Water.

Drowning.

It was dark.

Deep water.

Freezing cold.

Clay reached.

George was deeper.

Sinking.

Arms outstretched.

Bubbles from his mouth.

Water flooding in.

Eyes closed.

Couldn't breathe.

Cold all through his body.

Sinking.

George was too far.

Too deep. Too fast.

Clay was slow.

Reaching, kicking.

George wasn't conscious.

Couldn't swim.

Sinking.

Clay was failing him.

Reach for George.

Freezing cold.

Deep water.

It was dark.

Drowning.

Dead.

Clay kept trying to get to him through the black water. He knew he couldn't but he couldn't stop either. Maybe if he could get him to the surface-

But he was powerless, he couldn't hold him.

Please

Let me get him

Escape the water

Almost no air left

Save him just-

Escape together

Clay woke up gasping for air.

Slick with sweat, he was curled in a ball, shivering. He sat up in bed, still finding it hard to breathe. He could feel the icy water like he was still immersed in it. He could still see George floating under him when he closed his eyes. George looked so peaceful and still, hair and clothes gently rippling in the water, pearly skin in moonlight, faced upwards, arms outstretched like he was falling. The air leaving his lungs.

The nightmare felt so real.

He was numb to it by dawn. He got on the bus like a corpse. He had forgotten the mystery of the night before entirely and George occupied his mind even more than before. But now it was different; he kept seeing him dead.

Sapnap interrupted everything sitting next to him.

"CLAY- look at what someone sent me last night!"

"what is it," he asked tiredly.

Sapnap showed him his phone, "Someone texted me, I dunno who."

Lunch Friday. Go alone to the library. LDNRTR

"Oh." Clay was successfully distracted for the moment and showed Sapnap his phone.

"Same for me. I don't know who sent it."

Lunch Friday. Go alone to the library. EOACHAS

Sapnap took it from him to look close. "Nah this one has different letters. What does it mean?" He compared them.

"Some code, does it mean anything to y-"

Sapnap trailed off looking at Clay.

"Hey, hey. You don't look good. Feeling okay? Did you get enough sleep?" He put a hand on Clay's forehead. "You sick?"

"I'm fine," Clay responded.

"liar," a6d said from across the aisle.

"Shut up," Clay mumbled.

"no u," a6d answered.

"No you."

"no u."

Sapnap looked between them. Clay didn't even know why he was engaging in this dumb argument, maybe to hide.

"No you."

"No youuuuuu." Bad jumped in eagerly from where he was with Skeppy, having not been listening at all. It was unclear if he was with a6d or Clay.

"No U Bad," Skeppy tried to get his attention again by repeatedly poking his shoulder. "You're sus."

"No you're sus," Bad poked him back. "Stop iiiiiiiiit that's annoying."

"You're annoying."

And thus another pointless argument between Skeppy and Bad ensued.

Clay tuned it out.

At this amazing time most of the older soccer guys came on the bus, one of them asked if Sapnap wanted to join them in the back like usual.

He refused on behalf of Clay, "Nah, I gotta work with the Dream a few more minutes, be back soon though."

They shuffled on, laughing and shoving each other playfully.

Sapnap's near black eyes met Clay's dull green again; Clay pulled his away.

"You want to talk to me about it?"

Clay glanced around and shook his head. This isn't a good place to relive nightmares and bawl my eyes out.

"I'm good. Go ahead with what you were saying."

"Ok, so I was asking if this means anything to you, I think it's a backwards word but: SA-HCA-OE? SAH-CAO-E? Ummmmm S-AHCA-OE? I don't know. It's nonsense."

Clay shook his head. "I don't know what it means but I think it's from George."

"From George?"

"Yeah." Clay was almost positive. "He's finally... finally talking to me again. Don't you think so?"

"Oh," Sapnap hesitated. "I'm not sure-"

"-just look though. He said meet in the library. He likes to hang out in the library. You know how he likes books right? And he said come alone so he wants to talk to just me... but he also said that to you... oh so... maybe not. No, I was wrong. Nevermind."

"You could be right."

Through his words, Clay could see on Sapnap's face that he thought he was grasping at straws. He quickly rearranged his features.

"Let's try and figure it out this afternoon."

"This afternoon?" Clay's brow furrowed. "But it says at lunch."

"Lunch Friday, dude. It's Thursday."

Oh.

Clay had been looking forward to the chance of seeing George again.

Now he had to wait another whole day.

Sapnap eventually stopped hanging around to go hang around the back of the bus, leaving Clay alone.

He sat lost in thought until a6d gently tapped him on the shoulder.

"Can I see that you guys were looking at?"

"Oh yeah sure." Clay handed his phone over.

A6d frowned at it and tilted his heads sideways slightly.

"Did you try moving the um- letters around each other?"

"Oh, no. I didn't spend that much time on it. I thought, oh well I thought he would just explain when I saw him."

"E-O-A-C-H-A-S. 'Sac' um sack? 'Sack a coe- eeoc', euh, maybe 'a chaos e?' 'Caao eh?' 'O ha case.' 'Oh casea.' 'Ha so cae.'

No probably not right-" he gave the phone back to Clay- "maybe something with case or chaos. I tired."

"Pretty good for a French guy," Clay attempted his best thankful smile.

"Anytime," Vin half-smiled. "I'm here for you."

"Thanks."

"Bien-sûr." He gave Clay a little two-fingered salute and leaned back in the seat behind him.

Nothing happened until Clay found himself at the beginning of lunch halfway to the cafeteria. It was like sleepwalking; he just walked on autopilot and looked around in a new place.

"-Clay? You listening, mate?"

Clay blinked. Grian was talking to him. Where did Grian come from?

"Um, sorry can you say that again?"

"Yep I said I think I got a clue for finding George last night. I got a text from an unknown number."

He beamed, then said,

"Good news right? You look confused."

"Um yeah." Clay rubbed the back of his head.

"I just don't know why he texted all three of us."

"Who texted all who?"

"George texted me and you and Sapnap last night."

Grian was confused. "But it wasn't his number, we couldn't trace it."

"Oh. I- I thought it was him, but Sapnap didn't think it was. Who do you think it is then. If it isn't George?"

Grian pursed his lips, "I have a guess... but I'm not completely sure, so I'd rather have evidence before I tell you."

"Um ok. What did your text say exactly?"

"'Lunch Friday. Go alone to the library.' Yours?"

"Yeah same thing."

"Hmm ok. That's weird that he wants us to meet 'alone' at the same place and same time. I have to think about this more."

"Ok."

Why bother thinking about it when you can just ask?

Clay decided to ask, "Did you try texting back to George- or like whoever?"

"What- no, I didn't, he clearly doesn't want to give us answers or information that way. I highly doubt he would answer. I can try it, if you want." He started to pull out his phone.

"Nah, don't bother," Clay said. "You're right about him not answering."

He had essentially poured his heart out in reply to the message on the off-chance it was George last night, from everything to apologies and pleas to frustration at no reply and back to begging for forgiveness. There was no answer.

George would have answered me right?

Grian nodded and put his phone away. " Well then it looks like we just have to wait for lunch tomorrow. I'm going back to Hermitcraft; see you later!"

The day dragged on for Clay.

He had to wait through every long second and minute and hour.

Finally he left school, searched on his bike, found nothing, slept, woke up again, ate a little, went to school, and lunch came after years and years.

He was out of his class before the bell finished ringing and on the way to the library, trailed by Skeppy, Bad, and a6d. Their path intersected with Sapnap and they ran into Grian and Mumbo just outside the library door.

They all went in together.

It was quiet inside.

There was a librarian at her desk and a few students studying by themselves at round tables scattered around. No one looked up when they came in. Clay stopped, he didn't know what he had been expecting, but something.

"Let's split up," Grian said. "Look in all the aisles between bookshelves for George or anyone who recognizes you."

They quickly scanned the whole library but George was nowhere to be found. Neither did any stranger come up and give them a hint.

They reconvened at a round table.

"Ok, let's look over the messages again," Grian said. "Show me what they sent you both."

He got out a pen and paper from his book bag and wrote down the messages, adding on his own at the end:

Lunch Friday. Go alone to the library. LDNRTR

Lunch Friday. Go alone to the library. EOACHAS

Lunch Friday. Go alone to the library. YNOURI

"Okay... okay okay okay okay-" Grian picked up the paper. "Let's look at just these-" he circled the letters at the end of each message. Everyone else just watched him work.

LDNRTR EOACHAS YNOURI

"It's a scrambled message," Grian mumbled to himself.

He scribbled on the paper, rearranging them and then staring at what he wrote, rearranging it again in his head.

RTRNDLIRUONYSAHCAOE

"Oh," he breathed.

"If I-"

SAHCAOEIRUONYRTRNDL

He started to write again, but stopped and- dropping the pencil- took off speed walking into the bookshelves behind them. "Of course..."

"What? Um-" "Wtf's he doing" "where-"

The other five were confused but Mumbo just followed Grian without a word, gesturing them to follow.

Clay hurriedly grabbed the paper and pen and stuffed them in his bag rushing after the others.

The last thing on the paper was Sir A

That was it.

Clay caught up as Grian stopped in one of the aisles. Mystery.

Grian dove in, knowing exactly where to look. He stopped halfway down and pointed high on the shelf. "I knew it. Look."

There was a post-it note on one of the books. Mumbo reached up and pulled it down. "The Complete Sherlock Holmes: Volume 1," he read. Then looked at Grian, "Brilliant!"

"How did you know to look here?" Bad asked.

"Meet in the library. I figured it was for a reason, and when no one was here it means they left a clue. So a book; what book? The code they sent was in pieces: part to me and part to Clay and part to Sapnap. It was a skip code of three and easy to put back together if you look at it the right way. It said 'Sir Arthur Conan Doyle,' author of famous Sherlock Holmes stories, I should know; I'm a huge fan of them."

"Yeah yeah yeah-" Sapnap pushed between Bad and Skeppy to get to Mumbo and snatch at the post-it note- "what does the actual thing say?"

Mumbo was taller and read it before handing it over. "It's just a classroom number."

"Lemme see." Sapnap got ahold of it and verified what Mumbo said.

"I don't know where that one is," Grian said, "Any of you guys have that class?"

Most of them shook their heads except a6d said, "that's the easy English. You guys probably all have AP. I can show you."

"Lead the way," Grian said.

They stopped outside the designated room, it was silent inside.

Grian stood back for Clay, "You should be first."

Clay drew in a breath and gently unlocked the door.

He pushed it open.

They gathered inside.

There was one person sitting at the table.

Skeppy, Bad and a6d stood still, Mumbo placed himself before Grian and Sapnap put an arm protectively in front of Clay.

"What are you doing here, Techno?"

Technoblade smiled.

"Sapnap, Sapnap. What do you think?"

Clay was confused as to why everyone else was acting so defensively.

Techno put his hands on the table and stood up.

"Come in, guys, sit down."

Clay came forward and sat at the table; Sapnap slowly followed him, and after him the trio, but the other two stayed put.

Grian poked his head out from behind Mumbo, "You like Sherlock books?"

Techno kept smiling eerily. "I've perused a few. I know you do. I also know you've been looking into me. Your people aren't as sly as they think."

Grian walked up to him. "Neither are you."

Mumbo quickly rushed to his side and all eight of them were standing at the table.

A tense silence came, the only ones unaffected were Techno, Grian, and Clay because he was confused. Skeppy shifted in his seat and Bad glanced at him; a6d was silently watching the proceedings like he usually did; Sapnap had crossed his arms and was glaring at Techno; Mumbo was acting like Grian's bodyguard, and Grian was in his normal, relaxed state.

Clay wanted to ask Grian what Techno meant by "your people" but it didn't seem like a good time. He could only be referring to the Hermits, but it sounded strange the way he said it, as did the suggestion that Grian was spying on him. Grian hadn't told Clay anything about looking into Techno.

He was slightly numbed by the crushed hope of seeing George yet again, and his brain wasn't catching up on all the implications of the conversation or, in fact, Techno's presence in the room.

"Why are you here?" Clay echoed Sapnap's question.

Techno's eyes settled on Clay and he spoke after a half-second's pause.

"I've been-"

"-don't listen to him Clay," Sapnap cut Techno off- "he's not what you think he is." He spoke harshly to Techno, "What the hell are you playing at with the crocodile tears Wednesday and this calm and collected act now, huh? What is with your disappearance and the texting and WHY THE FUCK ISN'T GEORGE HERE?!"

He had tried to get in Techno's face, but Clay held his arm and kept him in place.

"Nick," he said. "We've made this mistake before. If someone wants to talk to us, we let them talk before accusing them."

Grian gave him a grateful nod and Sapnap shook his grip off and sat down angrily. The chairs scraped against the floor as the rest of them also sat down, Techno last.

Finally. Please be good news.

"Were you the one who texted us?" Clay asked.

"Yes," Techno said solemnly.

"Why?" Bad asked.

Techno's eyes flicked to him. "I wanted to talk to you, like Clay said. It's past time."

"Why the puzzle?" Grian asked.

"Oh, that was a last minute thing I just did for fun. The library's too crowded a place to meet. And I was testing to see if you would come alone or-" his eyes trailed over Bad, Skeppy, a6d, and over to Mumbo- "tag along. Teamwork, right? You stick together." There was something unplaceable in his tone.

"What do you know?" Grian asked.

Techno's eyes glimmered, "More than anyone else. There's things you don't know about George and me."

He looked at Clay, then dropped his eyes.

"I used to bully him."

Sapnap and Skeppy started shouting at the same time. Bad covered his ears. Grian and Mumbo didn't react.

Techno let them yell at him before speaking:

"It doesn't mean anything, but I regret it now. I was hurting and took it out on him. The longer he's been gone the more it's been eating away at me."

Clay stood up.

Walked around the table.

Punched Technoblade.

He stumbled back.

His nose was bleeding. He saw it and straightened up. He didn't hit back, just waited.

Clay wanted to simultaneously beat him into a mushed pulp for ever hurting George and fall apart forever because there was no point and nothing to do but cry.

He opted for neither. Just stood there a second. Until Grian suggested they take a second and gently pulled him into the hallway.

Clay was more aware of suddenly appearing there then traveling in between.

They left Techno inside.

Clay couldn't really hear what the others were discussing over the buzzing in his ears and growing hopelessness.

After someone's futile attempts to ask his opinion of something, the group apparently decided to hear the rest and ask for proof. Someone patted Clay on the back. Then they were back inside the room.

He glared at Techno.

Pieces of him wanted to scream. Techno was supposed to be his teammate, his friend. He had hurt Clay, and on purpose.

A small part whispered that Techno was still a person. Grieving.

But the rest of him had already sunk back into numbness.

Techno had stopped most of the blood coming out of his nose, and he was trying to make it better. But Clay couldn't look at him for long before he was overwhelmed thinking about George and his feelings of betrayal by the man across the table.

He should be listening to what he's saying now.

Clay pulled himself roughly out of his spinning thoughts and tuned back into the room just as Sapnap asked Techno another question.

"Is your dad really dead?" He had to know.

A little wave of shock ran around the table. Techno flinched and stopped to collect himself.

"Yes." Grian was the one who answered, to everyone's surprise.

His eyes were on Techno.

"How much did that affect you?"

"A lot," Techno exhaled.

Grian caught the other's confused how-did-you-know-that looks and shrugged, "The Hermits do more than you think."

Then Techno cleared his throat.

"But he and I weren't very close since I was a kid and he hasn't been a good father in years.

I hate him a lot.

And- and even more now."

"Stop messing around," Sapnap growled.

"Yeah," Skeppy jumped in.

"Give us answers."

Techno took a deep breath and started,

"My father killed himself last weekend. He walked out on our family over a year ago and wasn't right in the head anymore. We didn't know anything about where he was and we didn't necessarily want any contact from him. The police identified his body in another town and notified us. Otherwise we wouldn't have known.

I was hoping to never hear from him again. And I got my wish. I won't."

He had to take another breath.

"But I didn't expect to learn anything from his death.

He-"

Techno stopped. It was hard for him to talk.

Grian was watching him carefully.

"Take your time."

Sapnap narrowed his eyes. He mumbled to himself something about a letter.

Grian decided to help Techno find his words.

He spoke gently, "You learned something; if it's what I guessed, it's hard to hear. But now is the time to tell us, you know that, or you wouldn't have called us here."

Techno nodded.

"My father left me his note. He left me one before he abandoned us too, he was rude like that."

He pulled something out of his coat pocket. Sapnap's eyes widened in recognition.

"This is his suicide note," Techno said. "I'm the only one who's seen it."

Clay felt the silence pressing on his ears and coiling in his throat and nose.

Techno held the note, staring at him.

"He told me something in it:

he was the one who shot you, Clay."