George took a deep breath to try and calm his racing heart. Heat radiated off the lava in front of him. He'd been standing here so long that he was starting to wonder if Sam was pranking him, and the lava wasn't actually coming down, and he wasn't actually going to see Dream today. The thought was almost relieving.

He'd been running over what he was going to say all week now. Ever since he'd gotten Sam's permission to visit. He'd rehearsed quietly on the way here, getting some strange looks from Bad and Puffy who'd passed him on the Prime Path.

I'm not here for you, Dream. He would begin. I just want to know why you did. All of it. And then he would list out all the awful things his former friend had done and demand answers. Answers were all he wanted. Maybe then he could sleep soundly, something he hadn't done since Dream had been imprisoned.

And then the endless flow of lava came to an end, and the cell came into view. It was smaller than he'd imagined. Just a cauldron, a lectern, a chest, and some empty picture frames on the wall.

And there was Dream. At least George assumed it was Dream; he couldn't really tell. The person behind the cell bars had long, wild, light colored hair, and they were wearing a jumpsuit that was probably orange. They were sitting curled up in the corner of the cell, their back to the wall, and they didn't react at all to the lava receding.

"Is that Dream?" George asked, confused.

"Who else would it be?" Sam answered in the same dull voice he'd been speaking in since George got here.

"I don't know. I just… He looks different."

"Do you still want to see him?"

George hesitated. "Yeah... I do."

"Then try not to fall off the bridge."

"What?"

Sam flipped a lever on the wall, and the floor beneath George began moving. He gave a yelp of alarm as he almost lost his footing. The person in the cell didn't react. Dream would have laughed at that.

"The bars will retract once the lava is back down." Sam called after him. "Call me when you're ready to leave."

George gave him a thumbs up but kept his eyes on the prisoner. Coming closer, he could see Dream's mask on the floor near them, along with a pile of bandaging. He blinked. Why would Dream need bandages? And was that red on them? It blended with the rest of the colors in the light of the lava, so it was hard to tell.

The prisoner still hadn't looked at him.

"Dream?"

No reaction.

"What are you doing?" George asked as he stepped off the bridge. Behind him, the lava was coming back down. "Hello?"

Finally, the prisoner moved, but it was only to turn his back on George.

"So you're just gonna ignore me?" He asked, feeling a rush of annoyance. The bars dropped into the floor, leaving nothing between him and the prisoner. Emboldened by the silence, George stepped closer.

Now, in the light of the crying obsidian, George could see the jumpsuit was torn and stained with the same color that was on the pile of bandaging. It looked like… blood. Bandages were wrapped up and down the prisoner's arms, legs, and back.

Everything he'd planned to say, all his rehearsed berations, dried up in his throat as he stood in shock. Suffocating silence crept in to fill the room. He was hurt. Badly hurt.

"... Dream?" George finally managed to say. He took another step closer and knelt. Blood was soaking through the bandages, and it matted the prisoner's wild hair. "Is it really you?"

"What are you doing here?" Dream answered in almost a whisper. It was him. But his voice was different. He didn't sound like himself. He didn't sound hurt or angry or scared either. He sounded broken.

"I…" A rush of guilt came over him. "What happened to you?"

"Do you even care?"

"Did someone hurt you?"

"Why are you here, George? Did Quackity send you?" Dream's words were sharp, but his voice was shaking.

"Quackity? What does he have to do with anything? I haven't even seen him in ages."

"You should go."

"Why won't you look at me?"

Silence.

"Dream!" George reached for him, but Dream flinched violently away from his touch. George sighed and sat cross-legged, still facing Dream. "Look, I'm not leaving until you talk to me, so if you really want me gone, you should tell me-"

Dream interrupted him. "Why now?"

"What?"

"I've been locked up for months. Why are you here now?"

George gave a humorless half-laugh. "You're really starting with the hard questions, huh?"

"Did someone send you?"

"What? Why would- No, I just… It's kinda hard to see you after everything people say you did. I didn't know what I would say, and we weren't exactly talking that much before you got locked up anyway. I didn't want things to be… awkward."

"Awkward…" Dream echoed quietly.

"I mean you, uh, you dethroned me, and then you kinda stopped talking to us, and then you became a terrorist, and we didn't hear from you for ages, and then everything with Tommy and the discs and-" He sighed. "It's hard. You don't know what it's like for your best friend to turn into a super villain without… without…" He trailed off, unsure of how to finish his thought.

"And everyone still associates me with you. Even though it's been months, I feel like no one really trusts me to not go off the deep end and blow something up." He hadn't intended to say any of this; this wasn't what he'd rehearsed at all. It just came spilling out. Months of frustration and confusion. "So why, Dream? Why did you do it? Why blow up countries? Why lock up people's stuff? Why-" His voice broke. "Why did you leave us?"

Dream was silent.

George waited for what felt like at least five minutes before speaking again. "Sorry… That was a lot, and I don't think I actually answered your question." He laughed slightly, expecting Dream to respond.

Dream stayed silent.

"Now's the part where you laugh at me or call me a stupid idiot or… Y'know, say something."

He didn't say anything. Dream still hadn't said a single word.

"Are you… okay?"

Finally, Dream answered, but it was with a single word. "No."

"Why won't you tell me what happened? How'd you get hurt?"

"He's been torturing me." Dream's voice was flat.

George stared at him in horror. "Who?"

"Quackity."

"Quackity...? Why would he-"

"He wants the revive book."

He looked from Dream's injuries to the pile of bloody bandaging. "Why don't you just give it to him?"

"He did send you, didn't he?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You're working with him." No longer flat, bitter anger was rising quickly in Dream's voice. "What are you? Good cop? You're supposed to come in here and make me think you care- make me drop my guard, right? Then what? What else did he tell you to do?"

Taken aback, George didn't know what to say. "Why would I work with him if he's hurting you?" He asked slowly.

"Don't play dumb. If you really cared, then you would have visited- Even Sapnap found it in him to visit once."

George bristled. "I do care!" He snapped back. "Even though you make it so damn hard, I care, Dream. You're the one who went off the rails and started pushing us away. You're the one who cut ties, not me! Do you know how many times I made it to the prison gates before I decided you wouldn't want to see me? Do you know how often I stand out there wondering what I did to make you hate us?"

Tears welled up in his eyes, and he furiously wiped them away before they could spill over. At least Dream was still facing the other way, so he didn't see George crying.

"I don't hate you…" Dream answered softly. All the anger of moments before was gone.

"Then- then what did I do wrong?"

And then Dream turned to face him. Dream's face was bruised and scarred. His freckles had faded from months without sunlight, but his eyes were the same intense green, and they held a gentle look that George hadn't seen in them in almost a year.

"You didn't do anything wrong, George."

"Then why did you leave us?"

"It's… complicated."

"Tell me anyway."

Dream almost seemed to smile at that. "I honestly don't even know where to start."

"Usually the beginning works pretty well."

This time Dream did smile. "No duh." He thought for a moment. "I guess the short of it is after Tommy and the rest joined, things started changing… I didn't want that. I wanted things to stay just-"

He interrupted himself, pausing for a moment before he continued. "Stay like they were, pretty much. All the nations and wars… It made me want control? That's where I went off the rails, like you said. I didn't want people to control me. And attachments… That's how you control people. So I cut mine off."

"Your attachments?"

Dream nodded.

"So me and Sapnap?"

"And my house, my stuff… Spirit. Everything."

"That's so dumb."

Dream blinked at him, apparently dumbfounded by George's obvious statement. "What?" He asked after a second.

"It's dumb. If you wanted things to be like they were, then of course you'd need attachments of some sort. Otherwise what's the point of anything?"

"That's… Okay, I guess it sounds a little dumb when you put it like that…"

"That's because it is. I thought you were supposed to be Mr. High IQ, but that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"Shut up."

"Make me."

Dream almost laughed, but then his smile fell, and he looked away.

"What's wrong?" George asked quietly. "Do you actually still think I'm working for Quackity?"

"I- I don't know…" Dream fidgeted with the bandaging around one of his fingers. "I don't know anything anymore… I used to be somebody. Now I just spend every day wondering if- if it's the day he finally decides to kill me."

"Dream…"

"The worst part is, I don't even know if I want to live anymore. What am I doing by prolonging it? I'm never getting out, and Quackity- he likes it too much to stop now."

George hesitated, then, slowly, he put his hands over Dream's. "You're not gonna be in here forever, and I'm not gonna let him keep hurting you." He didn't know what he was saying or how he was going to follow through on any of this, but he couldn't stand how hopeless Dream sounded.

"What could you possibly do, George? It's hopeless."

"I'll figure it out." He gave Dream's hands a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "If you're not gonna be the most stubborn man on the server anymore, then I will."

"Why would you help me after everything I did?"

"Well you didn't do much to me specifically, aside from dethrone me and ignore me for months."

"I'm… sorry."

George shook his head. "It's not about me anymore. I just… can't stand to see you like this. I'll give you a good punch once you've healed up."

Dream chuckled. "I don't believe you but… I want to."

"Fine. I'll just have to prove it then."

"How are you-" Dream froze. He was staring in fear at something behind George.

George turned to see the lava was falling again. And standing on the platform on the other side was Quackity.