"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."

"The best plan would be for the Barge to pick us up again," he admits with some frustration, "but we have no idea of whether that will happen or when. So we have to get going."

There's a long pause before he speaks again.

"Not really."

Another, shorter.

"...you really don't want to know what the hell I'm talking about?"

"Yes!"

He grumbles irritably, frustrated at- at everything right now.

"Especially since if I don't explain, every time I know something you're going to question how I know it. You're probably already questioning right now how I'd know what was in here! And, for that matter, why I'm so-"

Quieter-

"...I feel different. I don't know if you can tell. Or if you just chalked it up to being because of the King."

But John can see it. Which is why the first thing that he says is-

"...fuck. Fuck!"

He pauses and tries to get a handle on himself.

"The forest came to us. It's surrounded us. Fuck."

"The trees move," he explains with a deep sigh, "so even if we start walking, no matter how far we go, we'll still be within the forest. There's only one way to leave the forest."

"...it sucks. And hurts. A lot."

Sullen silence before-

"...you have to bite off half your pinky."

"Why the fuck do you think I was trying to avoid this?! There's no other way out! You have to-" grrrrrr aaaaagh "we have to make an offering of ourselves. Yourself. Contribute to the forest."

A slight huff.

"...you're going to bite the one I'm controlling anyway so trust me, I'm not thrilled."

John will give him the minute. He won't say a word, in fact.

But he will gently try to comfort him, coil around inside gently and provide something warm and soothing.