There are many abandoned buildings in Logstedshire. Most of them are occupied with teenagers needing a place to hang out, or the homeless needing a place to stay. They are usually situated near the walls that separate Logstedshire from the other districts or along the edge of the Ravine. Vermillion knew of their existence, and he had gone to some of them when he found clues pointing him towards trafficking rings or drug deals.

"We've been staying here for the time being," Unfound mentioned off-handedly, gesturing towards one of the crumbling buildings. It was made from sand-colored bricks stacked together with off-white filling. Tommy estimated that it was two or three stories, but the roof seemed to have collapsed on one side. Part of the roof smushed down the floors while other parts were stacked precariously to the side of the building. The door was painted red, but the color had faded with time. The few windows that were still intact were filled with cracks. The stoop leading up to the door was missing one of the steps and a large piece of the black iron railing. The entire building seemed dead and gray, the life sucked out leaving pale colors that reminded Vermillion of death.

"We were staying at a hotel in L'Manberg, but we decided to get closer to the Ravine," Combust said as he jumped up the steps without caring that he could slip. He pushed open the door, holding it open for the rest of his companions. He was smiling, and Vermillion wished it wasn't so familiar. If he focused on that smile and nothing else, he could convince himself that it was nearly two years ago. But Vermillion was never exceptional at focusing. He would always get distracted, especially by horrible memories that churned alongside the power in his head.

"You say that as if you were the one to make the decision to move. You wanted to stay at the hotel because of room service. I had to basically drag you from our room out here once Unfound and I found a good place to stay," Dream said. Vermillion tried to hide his flinch. Dream's presence remained steady behind him, but it still surprised Vermillion every time he heard that voice. A phantom pain sent a pang throughout his mind, reminding him that Dream's voice was the last he heard before the light dimmed. Dream turned to Vermillion, his demeanor never straying from positivity. "I wanted for us to be closer to the Ravine. That's where our opponent is, so it would be best if we didn't have to trek all the way through L'Manberg and Logstedshire to get here."

"So, you guys are after the Corrupted Cauldron, too?" Vermillion asked, pointedly looking away from Dream. Unfound had disappeared into the house already. Combust seemed to be staring into the house with a tense expression. He startled back to attention as Vermillion gripped the remaining parts of the railing to keep himself steady. He felt exhaustion inside his body, beating alongside his heart and flowing with his blood. It was terrifying to be in the presence of Unfound, Combust, and especially Dream while he was working on less than his best. His fear was partially diluted by the sheer weight of his sleepiness and the empty feeling that came from overusing his powers.

"The association sent us to investigate a couple of weeks ago. We were supposed to stop the spread of Impulse, and our mission evolved when things got more complicated," Dream said, his voice growing wispier as Vermillion finally came to the last step on the stoop. Vermillion found his way to the door, dodging Combust's attempt at helping keep Vermillion steady. The vigilante might be tired in every way someone could be tired, but he could walk with his own two legs just fine.

"I wanted to help with the red gas in the Badlands, but the association told us to remain in position," Combust grumbled. Vermillion understood where the anger in his voice was coming from. Combust's ability to create fire from his skin wouldn't have helped him in the contaminated Badlands, but the district was his home. He had been born and raised there. It was the Badlands where Halo found him, taking Combust in as a sidekick. Combust, like Vermillion, wanted to do everything he could do to save his home. It was their loyalty to their homes that framed the beginning of their relationship. Their similar interests and senses of humor allowed them to grow closer. Vermillion's actions are what drove them apart.

"The situation has been successfully taken care of now. Apparently, those inflicted with the mind control or disease from the mists were cured once the creature creating them was apprehended. He's been moved to an underground facility for interrogation, and soon he will be moved to Pandora's Vault with the rest of the Apex members," Dream explained, placing a reassuring hand on Combust's shoulder. Combust still seemed fidgety, but he didn't start complaining once more about being stuck somewhere else when his home was in danger. Vermillion didn't know if he would have been able to do the same thing in Combust's position, so he respected Combust's strength of will.

"Combust, Dream, we need to send a report to the association and get that copper golem hybrid to safety," Unfound said, as soon as the front door shut. The anteroom was dusty and dark, illuminated by battery-powered pods scattered around every surface. The anteroom opened up to a small hall with a staircase right across the anteroom's door and the two hallways with open arched entrances. One of the entrances was blocked off with yellow tape, but the other side showed a large room with bay windows. The room was filled with tables set up with electronics. A portable generator was situated in the corner of the room with a sticker clearly marking it as property of the association.

"Right. I'll write the report and send it to the association. Combust, you should see about the hybrid. Unfound, would you please show Vermillion around our little hideout?" Dream asked, stepping away before his sentence was finished. He walked into the room with all the tables and computers. Combust nodded at the order he received. He walked up the stairs, pushing past Unfound as he disappeared into the darkness.

Unfound stood on the third step from the bottom, staring down at Vermillion. His eyes were hidden behind white goggles with tinted glass, but the pressure of his glare was easily identifiable. It was clear that he was angry with Vermillion, and honestly? That made Vermillion happier than anything else. He had done so many shitty things, but everyone else seemed ready to forgive and forget. Even Beau, who had been the angriest by far, had agreed to help him almost immediately when he asked for it. He needed someone to be upset with him. He needed someone to hold him accountable for his actions. He needed to know that if things went south, someone would be able to deal with the problem. Vermillion purposefully frayed every relationship he had. He made sure that the one he had with Unfound was unsalvageable.

"That is the main room. We keep the electronics in there. Stay out of it," Unfound said, vaguely gesturing to the room where Dream was talking to someone with a pair of headphones. Unfound turned around, climbing up the stairs without waiting for Vermillion. The vigilante stifled a groan. He did not want to climb up the stairs. He was tempted to remain down here, but he did need to know where everything was. He needed a place to sleep and to steal some food. After he wasted some of their resources, he would be on his merry way to fight the Corrupted Cauldron without them.

Vermillion kept a tight grip on the banister as he pulled himself up the stairs. Gravity begged to take him down, and he was tempted to give into the hug-like embrace of the natural force. He felt his resolve strengthen when he saw Unfound's eyes in the darkness. The hero was standing at the top of the stairs, looking down with an impassive expression. Vermillion's grip on the banister nearly slipped, but he kept his hand steadily on the wood. He nearly hunched over, but he refused to climb up the stairs on his hands and feet. He might want Unfound to hate him, but he didn't want the hero to lose respect for him. Thankfully, they only needed to go up one flight of stairs. Vermillion pressed his shoulder against the wall once he stepped past the final step. He breathed out shakily, his hands falling to his knees to keep him upright. He tilted his head up when he heard footsteps across the wooden floorboards. Unfound was walking away from him like Vermillion had managed to hit a check-point. Vermillion rolled his eyes, keeping the amusement from pulling his lips into a smile.

"There aren't many rooms, and for the sake of safety, we've all been staying in the same room. It's this own," Unfound said, knocking on one of the doors in the hallway. He looked to the door on the other side, nudging it with his foot. The door swung open slowly, creaking until it hit a wall. "That's the bathroom. The water works. The heating does not."

The door to the bedroom swung open. Combust walked out of it with a smile on his face. He had changed from his hero uniform to a white shirt and black pants. His raven hair had been pulled into a low ponytail. The one thing that remained was his mask, hiding his identity from Vermillion. The vigilante still swallowed uncomfortably at getting to see Combust like this. It wasn't the first time technically, but all those other times, Combust didn't have a reason not to trust Vermillion. Now, a lot of things were going wrong, and Combust should be wearing the most protective armor he owned around Vermillion.

Unfound pushed past Combust, going into the room. He closed the door behind him, leaving Combust and Vermillion alone in the hallway. Combust looked between the door and Vermillion with a mix of emotions crossing his face. He eventually used his entire arm to gesture to the bathroom. "How about I heat some water up for you? You look like you could use a bath."

Vermillion looked down at his body. He hadn't showered since he was staying with Tubbo and Ranboo. It hadn't been that many days since then, but Vermillion's body soaked up a lot of nasty scents like blood, sweat, and mud. Plus, a warm bath would be amazing for his aching muscles.

Combust walked into the bathroom, and Vermillion followed him in. The overhead light didn't work, but there was a ball placed on the sink countertop that glowed different colors, bright enough to illuminate the room. Combust kneeled down by the bathtub. He turned the faucet on, letting water thunder down into the porcelain tank. Combust opened his closed palm, and a golden-red flame appeared in the air above his skin. Combust lowered his hand to the ground, sliding it underneath the claw-foot tub. Combust placed his other hand in the water, checking the temperature. Vermillion sat on the toilet lid, turning his feet to press into the sink cabinet. He looked in the opposite direction as Combust, but they were close enough for the hero to catch Vermillion's words. "Unfound is pissed at me."

Combust released a breath that sounded like an airy laugh. It was short and low-pitched, but it was enough to bring a regretful smile to Combust's face. "To be fair, you burned down his vacation house."

Vermillion looked down at his hands. Sometimes, he could still feel how cold the lighter was despite the burning heat of the flames. He hadn't meant to burn down the entire house; he just wanted to burn some of the yard. The fire had gotten out of control, and Ender had teleported them both away before Vermillion could stop it. The fire was eventually put out, but the house didn't make it. Vermillion regretted his actions, but he refused to apologize. He couldn't. Not when the heroes were finally looking at him like they made a mistake when they took him in, or the way the association banned him from their headquarters. The unintended act gave him everything he wanted, but the way the porch went up first, the way pieces of the house collapsed, the way the flames beckoned him to join them, haunted him to the very second he was living in.

"I killed your fish, and you don't seem pissed at me," Vermillion said. He didn't want to argue, but the words spilled from his lips without his intentions being taken into account. He supposed that he wanted Combust to stop acting friendly with him, but at the same time... he missed this. He missed his family every day he spent away from them. He could, if he wanted, have them back. He could make amends with Unfound, with everyone else, and he didn't doubt they would take him back. Not for the first time and not for the last, Vermillion damned Clara to hell in his mind for making him what he was.

"You killed my pet. I got over it. I'm still annoyed with you, but there isn't much I can do. It was a fish. It certainly isn't more important to me than you were," Combust told him, keeping his eyes trained on the water. Vermillion looked away from Combust's face, staring back down at his hands. Between the sound of the faucet and Combust's flame, Vermillion almost didn't hear him say, "It isn't more important to me than you are."

Vermillion sucked in a tight breath, and he felt like his entire world was going to crash down around him. He knew that he was a fool for the people he cared about, but he was usually able to harden his resolve. He had told Siren and the Blade, his brothers, that he hated them. He had told Crowfather, practically his father, to leave him alone. He managed to get away from Nemesis and Shubble without either of them coming after him. He gave into weakness with Ender and Kamikaze, but only for a moment. He quickly went back to his mission. Beau was merely convenient; that was the only reason he kept her around. Combust wasn't going to crack him. He was going to survive this encounter.

"The water should be good now. Just don't take too long or it will cool off again. The towels are over there. Someone will bring you some cleaner clothes," Combust mentioned, ignoring his own comments. Vermillion didn't look at the hero, waiting until he heard the click of the bathroom door. He dragged himself to his feet, locking the door. He ignored his reflection in the mirror. He just peeled off his mask, lowering his hood. He stripped off his outfit, feeling a lot weaker without the protection. He carried his daggers with him to the bathtubs. He placed them on the floor, keeping them at arm's length.

The water was warm bordering on hot when he stepped into it. He lowered himself down, bringing his legs to his chest. He leaned his head against the side of the tub, closing his eyes. He felt the tension in his body unravel, and relaxation soon took its place. A million worries that had been clinging to his skin like leeches fell off. Only the worries forming the noose around his neck didn't leave him, but it was hard to think about the tightening rope when he was half-asleep in the all-encompassing warmth of the water. He could convince himself in his addled state that everything was going to be fine.

He eventually had to pull himself back to awareness. He rubbed his body with the rag hanging off the side of the tub. He submerges his body in water to wash off the soap and wet his hair. When he comes back up, he uses one of the containers on the floor beside the tub marked 'shampoo' to wash his hair. He doesn't know whose it is, but he can't find it in himself to care. They'll have to forgive him. It was either using their shampoo or smelling like he's never taken a shower before.

He's reluctant to get out of the bath. The water is chilling, but he doesn't want to move. His relaxation has sent him deeper into exhaustion, and he was so close to just drowning himself in the water. He couldn't stay there forever, though, so he pulled the plug of the tub, watching the water level sink. He stared at the way the water spiraled down the drain. The cold began to cling to his body, causing goosebumps to roam all across his skin. He shivered, scrambling for a towel. His fingers lightly touched the hilt of his dagger, but he didn't grab onto the weapon, reaching his arm out further. He eventually grabbed the towel. He pulled it towards him, wrapping it around himself like it was a blanket. It was a feeble attempt to warm himself up, and an even worse attempt at drying himself. He remained shivering in the tub with a small towel wrapped around his upper body, hoping that warmth would eventually find him.

Someone knocked on the door. Vermillion stared at the wood, his brain processing everything a few seconds after they happened. He grumbles unhappily, forcing himself to stand up. He has to lean against the wall with how his body trembles. He maneuvers the towel around his body until it covers his waist. He steps out of the tub, reaching for the lock on the door. He unlocks it, letting the door crack open. An arm reaches in with clothes in its hand. Vermillion gratefully takes the clothes, keeping them away from his wet body. He sets them on the counter, pushing the door back shut and locking it. He dries his body off for real this time before slipping on the clothes he was given. He can tell who exactly each particle of clothing is from. The pants are from Combust. He knows because he was the one that usually put stink bombs in Combust's clothing drawers. Unfound's trousers and Dream's t-shirt are recognizable because Vermillion has seen them wear it before.

Vermillion places his mask on his face, wondering how well the mask actually worked with the assistance of the hood. He shrugged, refusing to look in the mirror to see. He bundled up his vigilante's uniform, carrying it with him as he opened the bathroom door. The towel hung over his shoulders, and he didn't know how to turn off the beacon. He just left them as he stepped into the dimly lit hallway. He would have stood at the doorway for a long time if he didn't hear Dream from the bedroom call out, "Hey, Vermillion, come here for a second."

Vermillion goes into the bedroom. Dream is sitting on a couch pushed up against one of the walls. The floor is covered in dozens of blankets of varying thickness and pillows of varying length. Dream is sitting cozy in a green hoodie and knee-length shorts. He holds a book in his hands, an open suitcase laid at his feet. Dream continues smiling, but his brow furrows. He eventually sighs, "Come here. I have an extra brush that we can use."

Vermillion frowns. He walks toward Dream as the masked man looks through his bag. He eventually pulls out a hairbrush still in the package. Vermillion raises an eyebrow at it, and Dream gestures to the ground in front of him. Vermillion nudges a pillow over before he sits down on top of it. Dream pulls the towel off of Vermillion's shoulders. He uses the towel and a little bit of his enhanced speed to wipe Vermillion's hair. He sets the towel to the side after a moment, and Vermillion can hear plastic being torn apart. He closes his eyes, his head falling back to Dream's knee. He should walk away. He should curl up in the corner to sleep, his wet and tangled hair be damned. He shouldn't be anywhere near Dream, especially not when his mind feels like malleable pudding. His powers could go off at any second, and he would be dealing with another incident. It would prove his point that he was dangerous to the three who foolishly decided to take him in, but he didn't want to watch another one of his family member's get so close to death that he could see the light fade from their eyes. Vermillion shuddered as the memory struck him.

Dream whispered something reassuringly, his hand going through Vermillion's hair. It seemed that in the year they've been apart, Dream hadn't forgotten the right way to make Vermillion relax. There was one spot that made his limbs turn to putty when it was lightly scratched. With how tired Vermillion was, he was half-asleep by the time Dream started to actually brush his hair. Dream talked about this and that as Vermillion succumbed to his aching body and exhausted mind, head lolling back into Dream's lap.

It was a familiar scene, Combust and Unfound both thought when they came back into the room later, seeing Dream and Vermillion cuddled together while asleep.