What.

He doesn't have a body but that still hits like a fist to the gut. Why is- Arthur should know. Arthur should know where they are, he has the memories, just like John does.

He hopes-

Fuck, he hopes so fucking hard.

"We’re on a blackened coast." Arthur is still walking, stumbling, but he's well used to keeping a steady gaze despite that. "Beyond us, a violet lake of jagged rocks."

Maybe that's what he needs? It slips out-

"Don't you remember?"

Arthur will feel, contrary to what he probably expects, a deep well of sadness and distress; there's not an ounce of fight in him here, just dismay so deep John feels like he's going to be swallowed by it.

Like a man at gunpoint, reading a notecard:

"A soft purple glow emanates from the sky above, that stretches as far as the eye can see. The dark, mountainous range that surrounds the lake before us claws at the sky as if trying to escape the lands. The sand here is black, like crushed coal, and seems to cling to your pants."

A deep 'sigh' inside him.

"Arthur, it's the Dreamlands. Just like the flood showed us. Somehow or another, we fell off the Barge. Or... I suspect that you did and that I was just dragged along since I was ripped out of my body."

Arthur will feel it before John can find the words: a plunge of horror straight into despair, deep enough he might feel a certain amount of wetness starting to gather from his tearducts.

He doesn't remember.

He doesn't remember.

He doesn't remember.

He doesn't remember.

There's not a single way that statement doesn't absolutely destroy him and Arthur might feel his left hand starting to shake as the fingers curl into a fist.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!

John processes this very quickly. Exceptionally quickly. In fact, it's almost like he didn't process it at all and just jammed it down to deal with later. Who'da thunk it? But.

One more. One last hope.

"Arthur." So quiet. "Tell me who Nathaniel is."

There's a long, pregnant silence before John speaks again.

"...you should, yes. There's... there's a lot I need to talk to you about, Arthur. But we should- there's going to be rain soon. We should find you shelter- not under the trees if we can, though. We should avoid them if possible."

A sigh.

"Trees surround this lake, though they don’t look natural. Dark-wood - jagged, hook-like limbs hang loosely from the trees, as if they’re dragging their knuckles. All is dim here, Arthur. All feels cold and lifeless, as if the sun never fully rises... and yet, no doubt, you can feel the presence of others all around us."

"Yes, there's a building, off to your right, I remember now," because sorry, Arthur, he was busy having a depression spiral right inside your eyes for a minute, "a small, stone shack with a rusted iron top. There'll be some wood in there and a fur bed for us to wait out the rain. Keep going forward, veering right a little and in about ten feet, dip left before you knock into a tree. The opening is right there."

A breath out.

"Once we're inside, we can talk about... everything." Before Arthur can bring it up. "Including the ritual."

"Careful!" he'll hear before the left arm swings out to catch on a handhold, helps them keep upright. The left hand will reach over and start fussing over his shoulder almost immediately as he huffs in concerned consternation.

"Sorry. I'll- I just want to talk. I'll be more careful next time. Come on. Almost there. Before you get wet."

"I'm sorry," he repeats again, and he'll be careful to be more specific about the path to head into the little stone hut with it's rusted roof. They get in just as the rain starts, save Arthur wet clothes if nothing else.

He's going to direct Arthur to the fur bed to sit on, admit it's dirty but-

"...whoever was here isn't. They won't bother us. We have some time to talk."

Yes, this is definitely a discussion that he wanted to have twice. Fuck. He feels... weary. And sad. He won't hide those things from Arthur.

"That I'm sorry."

A short pause before-

"I was selfish, and I put finding out who and what I was, becoming whole again, before our partnership and before you. It was a shitty thing to do, and you didn't deserve that."

"It isn't," he says with a low huff, "and that wasn't the only choice I made. But you weren't 'unconscious'. You just don't remember."

He sighs and Arthur will feel him pad around on the inside of him, shuffling in displeasure.

"Do you want me to explain about the ritual or about the Barge first? I...

"I don't want to fight."

"Fine."

If he sounds a little belligerent about it, it's less about Arthur and more about just... everything. His discomfort. How much he hates feeling Arthur's emotions like this, directly angrily and suspiciously at him. He's had so long being trusted, being loved-

And no time to mourn it.

It matters to me, he doesn't say.

What I wouldn't give for your hand on my mask, your fingers entwined with mine, he doesn't say.

"When I looked into that mirror, I saw myself." The thunder punctuates the words for him, just as they did before. He hates it a little more. "For the first time in a very long time, I saw what I once was."

He immediately preempts-

"Not what I am. What I was. What I never will be again."

There's more to it, and they'll work through it, just as they did before, just with John more heartsick and feeling that much more lonely.

Arthur will feel the sigh.

"No. I really didn’t remember any of that, but I do remember what happened. Well... some, not all. I remember what the man said, about being severed. I remember exiting into your world… our world, through a portal that was opened by others. It was a powerful ritual, but more importantly, it was opportunity.

"When I took it, I found that there was fighting going on on the other side and in the chaos, something went wrong. A woman grabbed a book and tried to trap me in it, stop me from crossing over. But it was a book for a different entity entirely, so it only caught part of me, half of me. It tore me apart, leaving half in the Dreamlands and half in the book."

A pause.

"Me in the book."

The conversation proceeds as it had in the flood memories, as it had on the Barge in another form, until Arthur notes that the King mentioned that separating them was too difficult, that John had 'lost his way'-

"Correct."

This John feels the same. But he knows more.

"It won't work. But that doesn't mean he knows that." More quiet. "And no matter what he does, I will do whatever I have to do be with you. Don't forget that."