Work Text:
Caleb could not sleep.
Not a strange occurrence, that. Even when he was a boy, his mind would whirl and twirl through problems when he should have been asleep in bed. The quiet had never brought with it peace.
The ship was not exactly quiet, to be fair, but he had become accustomed to noise these past several months. Caduceus’s snores were not the least of the sounds that he had found himself missing, that first night in the Xhorhaus. They had lived in each other’s pockets for so very long, it had been a shock to the system to be apart. Most all of them had gone to breakfast that first morning with deep circles beneath their eyes, evidence that it was not just Caleb who had had a restless night.
Strange, now that they were once again huddled together, prepared for disaster with Fjord at their center, that Caleb would find himself restless once again.
Or perhaps not. It was not noise, after all, that kept him awake this night. No, that… honor, went to the man who was not here in their little huddle, whose absence was a missing tooth, tender to prod at.
Essek’s absence should not have felt so all-consuming, he thought, sighing and rolling away so that he might walk out the restless energy in his legs. There was no bubble tonight, for which he was grateful. He could let his thoughts carry him through the ship and not fear for the others. He nodded to Caduceus, whose body curled around and over Fjord’s, a shield from the terrors of the sea. Caduceus nodded back and closed his eyes once more, curling even closer to their sleeping friend. Caleb watched them for a moment, and part of him ached to see that comfort so freely given. The rest of him noted the pattern and considered it in an analytical way, measuring risk and benefit and the worth of it all.
Caduceus had proven himself quite capable of murdering his way through enemies to get to Fjord. It would not be a problem.
“Scheisse,” he hissed, turning himself away from the scene and carefully opening the door so that it would not squeak and give him away. The bitterness was clawing its way up his throat, and if he did not leave now, soon it would escape. No one needed that.
He had no right to make those kinds of judgments, not for Caduceus and not for Fjord. They would all die for each other, kill for each other – nothing could break that.
Not for them.
His mind, traitor that it was, supplied him with his true dilemma.
Not for us, but what of him? What would Essek Thelyss do, faced with your deaths?
For surely, soon, he would be. The Cerberus Assembly had shown them the new Beacon, the one that had never been in the Dynasty and would remain in their hands for now. They knew too much, were a liability that the Assembly could not afford to preserve. They might have some use right now, with whatever status they held in these upcoming talks, but once the talks were finished, their safety was all but guaranteed to dissolve, and his… family would come for them.
And they were not powerful enough to stop them. Not yet. Not if the Assembly had the numbers, had any advantage, any amount of luck.
If they were attacked now, they would almost certainly die. And what would their friend do then?
Caleb breathed in the harsh sea air and closed his eyes against the burning that threatened in them.
He only got close to us – to me – to ensure that we would not discover his treason. He would choose himself. Hadn’t he all but admitted that, the night of the party? He did not want to be forced to choose them over himself and his goals.
And that burned too, because was Caleb not praying for the very same dilemma to pass him by? Would he not jump at the opportunity to achieve his most secret desires, and damn the world, including his new family?
Wouldn’t he? Some days, he found the answer would not come.
He stared out at the ocean, calmer tonight, at the ship where he knew Essek should be sleeping comfortably. He would not be kept awake with the doubts that surely did not plague him. Caleb remembered that time, remembered having no doubt that he would do anything if it got him what he wanted. He thought he had slept better then.
Sometimes, the universe plays little tricks on people when they are too sure of themselves.
“Caleb,” came the voice, and his eyes closed again. “Are you awake? I apologize. May we speak face-to-face?”
Ten words. It was odd, when he was so used to Jester’s need to fill the spaces of silence.
“I… am awake,” he said. “Where do you wish to meet?” He let the silence fill his mind, staring out at the ship on the dark sea. Even as calm as tonight was, even with the moons high in the sky, the water still shifted to its own rhythms, unfathomable as it had always been. Perhaps that brought peace to Fjord and Caduceus, but Caleb had always needed to understand the world around him, so it was only unsettling.
“Am I welcome on your ship? I doubt my… coll—co-conspirator would appreciate your presence. After this morning.”
Caleb snorted. This morning – early enough to still be last night, truly – the nearest of the fleet had responded to the alarm bells that had rung out across the stormy seas of man overboard and intruders! By the time they had arrived, the intruders were dead, and in one very gruesome case, strung up by their innards on the prow of the ship by Yasha.
They hadn’t known, to be fair, that the Scion would revert to its prior, more human, form upon death. The screaming had been unpleasant. Yasha had snarled back, and – well, no, Caleb did not think any of them would be welcome on the Blue Heaven now.
“Come aboard, then. I will be in the crow’s nest.”
Better that this be private, or as private as it would likely be in this place.
He Flew up to the crow’s nest, startling a dozing Shelda, who glared at him and cursed all wizards but shimmied down the mast after just a moment. Caleb dropped his spell and settled in to wait for Essek to appear.
He did not need to wait long. With no sound and only a faint shimmer of air, there he was, standing in the crow’s nest. For a moment Caleb was confused, but he realized quickly what was strange; the last time he had seen Essek, he had been in his Thane disguise and barely glanced their way while the crew of the ships had been screaming at each other. Now, though, Essek looked like himself, short hair white, skin dark, eyes a pale silver that reflected the moonlight if one looked at them in the right moment. He wore no mantle, was dressed as casually as Caleb had ever seen him, in just a shirt and sleep pants. His shoes looked incongruous next to the comfortable fabric, but Caleb supposed his did as well.
He smiled, a bit, then looked away.
“Is Fjord well, truly?” he asked, and Caleb blinked. “I know what you told the crew, but I could not check for myself. Are you all alright?”
Caleb laughed, and if it sounded hollow, that was simply the quiet, the air up here sucking the noise from him. How could it be anything else?
“Fjord is as well as a recently-dead man can be,” he said. “Sleeping, now. We are… as well as we can be, with everything that’s happened.” He glanced up, and Essek was staring right at his eyes, as if he could divine truth that way – and perhaps he could. There were spells that could grant one that ability, at least in the Empire. He did not know if the Dynasty taught such magic… but, then, the Taskhand, the one who was to be given to the Empire, had had his memories manipulated by the man in front of him.
If anyone would know the spell, Essek Thelyss would.
“And you? I do not think I woke you, with my message. Are you well, Caleb?”
He could not help it, the scoff that left his mouth. Essek’s mouth turned down, and Caleb wanted to flinch away, to explain away his thoughts, to wring a smile from him… but that was what he wanted, wasn’t it? To find a way back into Caleb’s – into the Nein’s graces. Manipulation, surely, was all there was behind the frown, behind the question.
“I am… fine,” he said. He did not look at Essek’s eyes, pinching at the fabric of his sleep shirt instead. It needed mending, unlike Essek’s, was worn and loose. “Why are you here, Essek?” His name felt torn from his throat, like he could not have said it any other way, and Essek flinched, now.
“I told you, earlier, that I have no loyalty to the Dynasty, nor the Empire, and far more loyalty to you and yours, and you ask that?” That was… that was hurt, in his voice, and Caleb tried, truly, not to let the anger in him shove its way out. But… he had always burned, had he not?
“How can we trust those words, Essek? You lied for so long, how can we tell what is the truth and what is a lie?”
“Why would I lie? I knew you were going to kill me when you took me to your ship, and I went anyway! How is that not enough to prove to you – no, no, you…” Essek looked away, mouth pinched. “You are right.”
Caleb stared. How could he not, on hearing those words? Because yes, he had threatened Essek, and Yasha, too, had stood like a mountain between him and freedom… but to do it would have ripped his heart in two. For Essek, and for himself.
“I told you that I saw myself, looking in your eyes,” he said, and those eyes looked back now, tears once again forming in them. “I could have… perhaps I could have killed you, once. But then? You were broken, and I saw myself, before the Nein ever changed me. I couldn’t—”
“I didn’t know that.” Essek cut through his words like a knife, a snarl breaking onto his face. “How could I know that? You paralyzed me, you tried to shackle me, and I deserved it, I know that much, but, gods, Caleb, what else was I meant to think?”
“You could have run, left us behind.” That was the sticking point. Essek could have turned tail and run, fast enough, far enough away that they would never have found him. He was clever enough to do it, surely.
“I told you, Caleb, I am a danger to you. They would have come for you – might come for you even still, and I cannot even protect you when I stay away.” Essek threw a hand out and down, pointing to the ship. “Even here, surrounded by an armada, one of you died. What kind of friend would I be if I let that happen and never even thought to check? I may be irredeemable, and I may be callous, but you people, with your constant badgering and your curiosity and your infernal kindness, you have wormed your way under my skin as no one ever has. And that will kill you.”
“And what of you? The Assembly are many, and you are one. They will kill you and leave your body for the deep to take, and you still would stay away?” Caleb could see it too easy, lifeless eyes plucked out by seabirds, clothes rotted away, clawed hands and mouths and teeth destroying what was once a life.
Essek… smiled. Just for an instant, a bitter smile that said more than a thousand words could.
Caleb could only sputter, then, before the rage filled his belly once more.
“You infuriate me!” he shouted, voice catching in his throat. His eyes were hot and sore now. “How dare you! You, verdammt, you idiot, can you not see that that is not the way?”
“What other way is there for someone like me, Caleb Widogast?” It was quiet, and perhaps some other time that would have calmed Caleb, but not this night. He poked Essek right in his chest.
“Let us help you, you fool,” he pleaded. “We are not bad in a fight, and you need friends, Essek, or you are going to die.”
The calm on Essek’s face disappeared, replaced by something like agony, something like fury, and one part of Caleb delighted in it. Yes, let him rage, let him prove he is mortal after all.
“Why do you care?” he shouted, “Why can’t you just let me die?”
It was too much, and Caleb could not control himself, his reaction in that moment. He grabbed Essek by the shoulders, thinking to shake him, but the moment their eyes met before he could complete the action, Essek glanced down, eyes wild, mouth open and panting, and instead, Caleb kissed him.
For a moment, all Caleb could think was how oddly warm Essek was, and how strangely short when he did not float, and then he could not think at all because Essek kissed him back. All there was was wet heat and sharpness, a surging need that had gone unacknowledged for so long that, now in the open air between them, he thought he might die from it.
He could not be gentle, not now, with so many truths unspoken, silent between them. It was a burning thing, caught beneath his chest, and he thought he might be breathing fire from himself into Essek’s waiting body. It would explain the shuddering, pained gasps the man made when Caleb broke away, the wild need in his eyes.
They could lose themselves up here, tucked deep in the nest Caduceus made for comfort. Caleb wanted that, suddenly, to pull Essek to the ground and make him come undone, hold him here for once, solid and real.
But then where would they be? Still broken, still with no trust between them. His body might not care about trust, but the rest of him…
“I want you alive, Essek Thelyss, for so many reasons that I could not list them in a night.” Now his voice was soft, hoarse from shouting as it was. He let himself wipe the tears from Essek’s cheeks, let himself be gentle for once, because the gods only knew when he would have this opportunity again. Essek turned his face into Caleb’s palm, pressed his mouth to Caleb’s pulse point. “I want to see what you can become, and I want to see what you can do, and I want to see you make the world a little less shit than it has been. And none of that can happen if you are dead. So please, please do not push us away just so that you can run into the fire.”
Essek’s eyes were wet but honest, when he nodded his assent.
“I will,” he promised. “Gods help me.”
The gods were not for them, but Caleb did not say that. Instead, he held Essek there, and for that moment, let that be enough.