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[b][u]Seventh Floor - Elevator[/b][/u]

Dylan collapsed against the wall, his entire body strained from having to drag Don out of the room and into the elevator. It was tougher than he had imagined, but he couldn’t just leave his Big Bro there, passed out from the gas. Reaching over, he gave the man a nudge. “Come on, Don,” he begged. “Please wake up. I know you’re still there. Please...” 



But there was no response. 

He leaned his head back against the wall, trying to fight the despair that had settled in his chest. This had just been too much. The nightmares, the reincarnations of old enemies, the way it seemed the entire town was trying to drag up the worst that he suffered through and make him suffer it all over again...and now this. Don and Marcus, both hovering there in a state that seemed so close to death. 

What had they done to deserve all this? 

He shook his head - he could dwell later. Pushing himself to his feet, he turned to Syed. “Thank you,” he said. “For helping me back that. I would have said something sooner but...” he glanced back at Don. “Thanks.” 

The elevator lurched to a stop, the doors sliding open to reveal the office of Doctor Dream, and the man himself. He stood silent as the wounded man raged, his gaze upon Marcus. No, there was no way that could be true. Sure, he had been surprised by the man’s power just moments ago, and the depth he’s must go to keep all that hidden, but Dylan still knew Marcus. And he knew that the man had a good heart. 


“He lied,” he said simply, after Doctor Dream had passed. “Or he was mistaken. This place... it lies to us. Makes us see our fears. The...fears that I lived,” he paused, eyes flicking towards Lucien, “the fears that I know now aren’t true.” He swallowed harshly. “He was mistaken. He had to be.”