Chapter Text
Caleb's memory was perfect. The rest of him was rough around the edges, imperfect and hard to deal with, but his memory had always been perfect.
There are many things he wouldn't mind remembering in less detail. Remembering the exact moment his soul left his body was not a pleasant experience.
~•~
"Caleb, I've never really tried this before, not like this, but please come back. The Traveler can help you come back, yeah? We all love you. Even Essek, he needs you too. He's still passed out right now, but, he'd be here if he could. We all need you. You're our family. It… it won't be the same without you. I need you to polymorph into weird orange animals with me, and read us all stories, and play more pranks on Beau and Fjord and everyone. Please, don't… don't leave us."
~•~
"Caleb, we need you back. If you don't come back I'm going to find you in the Nine Hells, or the Astral Sea, or whatever and I'm gonna beat the shit out of your soul. I can punch ghosts, you know. You're… You’re like my brother. You're supposed to help me cut out the rot in the Empire, remember? Don't you dare fucking give up on that, you bastard."
~•~
"Caleb, you know I love you like family. You are family. You're my boy. You made sure I didn't die once and… and now you're going to let me repay the favor. You gave me my body back, my son and husband back, you gave me my life back. Please come back so I can help you. I want to give you the same closure with your own past."
~•~
A fluttering of raven wings. The smell of… lavender? A soft accented voice, “It looks like it isn’t quite your time yet.”
~•~
Caleb felt like shit.
He tried to think of a moment in his life when he physically felt worse, and found nothing. Emotionally, sure. But never had his limbs felt so sluggish, so weighed down. Never had each breath taken such effort. Even after every experiment of Ikithon's, even after every battle he’d been to death’s door and back, stepping through this particular door was apparently too much. Caleb was beyond exhausted, and couldn’t imagine moving, not yet.
But he could hear things.
He could hear Jester, stumbling over the Zemnian words in Der Katzenprinz, then giving up completely and retelling the story from her memory of what happened in Common, describing the pictures in great detail. She promised profusely that she’d actually found him a copy to read when they weren’t in the tower, and that she wasn’t drawing in the book, even though it wasn’t really his yet.
He could hear Veth, telling him to come back. He could feel her brushing her fingers through his hair, too tender and worried.
He could hear a set of footsteps, and then he could smell fresh flowers. Hyacinths, he thought, though his eyes refused to open so he could confirm.
He could hear Fjord occasionally, insisting that Caleb, and everyone else, needed rest whenever Jester or Veth stayed too long.
He could smell tea, wafting around the room almost constantly, no matter what voices or sounds he heard. He could just barely hear the padding of bare feet and the soft trickle as cups were refilled, any hour of the day or night. The smells changed with the time. Bright breakfast teas in the morning, around nine, less caffeinated green and white teas as it stretched on to midday, and then soothing fruity and herbal teas past five.
But there was another smell too, something more steady, deep and floral that went well with the flowers, but had an underlying, almost chemical scent. Like he’d stuck his nose in a laboratory, or a potions shop, or maybe a component pouch. It was deeply strange, but also familiar and comforting in a way.
Taking things in, he drifted.
Cycles seemed strange, disjointed. Bright breakfast tea skipping into the calming herbal teas of evening, then into afternoon green teas with no rhyme or reason. Time shifted and seemed to slip away from him. In the end, he really wasn’t sure how much time had passed at all, other than it being a lot.
When he finally opened his eyes, he was lying in a very large bed.
Bigger than any he’d ever owned, and far more comfortable than most of the places he’d slept.
The ceiling was vermaloc wood, painted that familiar maroon of the Xhorhaus. It was likely the guest room, since the space was a bit bigger than his own room. Well, at least the ceiling was.
He blinked once or twice.
He was safe.
He was safe, but he didn’t remember anything that had happened after his vision went black in that prison cell.
Essek.
His breath caught in his throat, wondering if the man had made it out, if the Mighty Nein had made it in time. Clearly they’d gotten him out, but they would have treated Caleb as a priority. They were sentimental like that. They were family. Who knew what happened after that moment? Having such a large lapse in his memory was deeply unsettling. He knew it was vaguely around two in the morning, but had no idea what day it was. How long had he been out?
Unsettled and caught up with worry, he tried to lift his head, sending the room spinning around him. He collapsed with a groan, but heard something shifting to the side of him. Very slowly this time, he turned his head to see a figure lying beside him, a fair bit away in the large bed.
In the dim light of the stars peeking through the window he could just make out the shock of white hair, matching the stark white bandages wrapped around the torso as the chest slowly rose and fell.
He let out a shaking breath.
“Essek.”
Right. Jester had said he was there, but unconscious. Gods, his head was swimming. Was Essek still hurt under all those bandages? His injuries were far too severe to get over in just a few days, if past experience held true.
The figure shifted again, wincing in pain a moment before moving closer.
Caleb still felt weak, but had to know this was real, had to know this wasn’t some strange dream. Could you dream if you were dead? It would make sense that you couldn’t feel this much pain if you were dead, though perhaps this was his own personal hell.
He reached out, cupping Essek’s cheek and finding it warm, alive. A little puff of breath ran across his hand as the purple eyes he’d gotten lost in too often flickered open. Not hell then.
He couldn’t stop the smile pulling at his cheeks. “You’re okay.”
“You…” Essek blinked again, a hand covering the one on his cheek before Caleb could pull back. Definitely not hell. “You’re awake. Are you alright? Should I get Jester or Caduceus?”
“Nein, let them sleep,” Caleb said, feeling some of his exhaustion begin to creep back and settle around him like a thick fog. He wouldn’t be up for long.
Still he kept his eyes open, watching carefully as Essek looked over him. “Are you sure? You look alright, but it’s been four days since Jester's ritual.”
“I’m sure, just tired,” Caleb said, repressing a yawn. Four days of lying here. “I’m glad you’re alright, my friend. What day is it?”
"Folsen. It's a few hours past midnight."
Caleb stared at the ceiling. Dead for five days, unconscious for four. There was no real reason for the gap, unless Essek had been alone with their captors for... "I'm sorry," he said, voice thick with an emotion he didn't bother hiding. No wonder the man was still wrapped up in bandages.
Essek’s eyes seemed to shine in the darkness. “Caleb,” he breathed, just staring for a moment. Secretly, Caleb was grateful to whoever turned their guest room into a sick room. He would have been fine in his own bed, but he would have had to wait hours to know if Essek was alive and safe. There was no way he would be able to move in this state, and he had no idea where his copper wire was, much less his spellbooks.
Then all of a sudden, his thoughts were interrupted and his arms were full of a trembling drow, holding him a little too tightly for the overarching ache in his bones. His voice shook as he spoke, “Please… Please don’t let that happen again. I don’t care if you think you can take more pain than I, or-”
Caleb shook his head and very gently wrapped his arms around Essek, feeling the warmth of his skin, feeling his heartbeat pressed against his own. Feeling that was worth the dull pain from moving his arms. He’d been through much worse there, at this point. It wasn’t enjoyable to be reminded of leaving Ikithon’s lessons, but that wasn’t what he wanted to dwell on. They were both alive, and it seemed like Essek was as grateful for that fact as he was. “I’ll do my best to keep us both out of anything like that again, and I assume you’ll do the same, ja?”
“That isn’t…” Essek paused, his breath almost hitched, “That isn’t what I meant.”
“And what did you mean?” Caleb asked carefully. This was already likely more physical contact than Essek had initiated in decades. Even just past the brink of death, he wanted to tread lightly.
The other man took a deep, shuddering breath. “I don’t know if I have it in me to watch you die again. Not like that.”
“Ah,” Caleb said softly. He didn’t really remember if he’d called out, but the cries of those you cared about dying was something which he was, regretfully, intimately familiar with. “Seeing loved ones… like that. I hope I didn’t scream. The screams are the worst,” he mumbled, completely lost in thought.
Essek’s soft voice broke through after a moment when he realized through the fire and brimstone in his vision that the man had frozen in his arms. “How… How did you know?”
Caleb blinked away the last of the flames licking the corners of his vision. “Know what?”
Essek’s voice was too small, too fragile for the Shadowhand of the Bright Queen. For a member of Den Thelyss of the Kryn Dynasty. Too broken for any vision that Caleb had of him. It was timid, almost too quiet to be heard if it weren’t for the absolute quiet of this moment. “That I love you.”
Oh.
Oh.
“I only meant loved ones like family. The Mighty Nein sees you as family,” Caleb said softly, eyes wide. He wished he could see Essek’s expression. “I… I did not mean to put words in your mouth.”
Was he imagining how Essek’s cheek seemed superheated against his chest?
He didn’t have time to wonder as Essek pulled back, feeling like a terrible loss, worse than the ache in his bones.
Essek took a slow, deep breath. “I should leave you to rest.”
Fuck.
He’d fucked everything up.
They’d been dancing around each other for months, and Caleb just tripped.
“Wait,” his hand shot out to grab Essek’s. He half expected to grab nothing, knowing the man could teleport away from him with little effort. “I’m no good at… at that. It has been over a decade, closer to two now.” Essek looked at him in confusion and his mind drew a blank. He wasn’t ready to say anything concrete, not really. “I don’t… Would you stay?”
Essek just watched for a moment and Caleb squeezed his hand, fighting the ache it caused even to expend that effort.
“You want me to stay?” Essek asked, voice again too timid.
Caleb nodded, and very gingerly brought the back of Essek’s hand to his lips. He didn’t want to lose this, not before he really had it. The aching pain the light movements caused were more than worth it.
Keeping their hands linked, Essek sank back down on the bed, keeping a few inches of separation between them.
Remaining quiet, Caleb kept his hand wrapped carefully around the slender, dusty blue fingers he’d watched trace over notes and weave magic more times than he could count. Essek’s hands were soft against his own calloused, scarred ones, save where the drow held a quill.
“It has been much more than two decades, for me,” Essek said in almost a whisper.
Caleb slowly traced runes on the back of Essek’s hand with his thumb. “The last person I had a relationship with dragged me to an asylum not a year later.”
“Were you actually mad?” Essek asked, eyes wide but not with judgement.
“Probably. I usually say I was broken. Watching loved ones die and all that. She still has quite a scar.” He swallowed, thinking about the burn scar across Astrid’s neck, the one he didn’t remember giving her.
Essek was quiet for a time. “She didn’t heal it?”
“Trent Ikithon was more a fan of lessons learned than lessening pain,” Caleb mumbled, unable to stop the reflex of scratching his arms.
Essek inched almost imperceptibly closer. Caleb might have done the same, if he felt he could move his body closer. He squeezed Essek’s hand once more instead. “We are rather… broken people, I suppose,” Essek said.
Caleb might have nodded, or perhaps laughed, if he hadn’t known it would cause pain. “I suppose so. A matched pair, so to speak.”
Chuckling quietly in the dark of the room, Essek turned to face Caleb. He only winced a little as he rested on his side, though it was hard for Caleb to see, out of the corner of his eye and in the dark. With all the lashes he’d seen Essek receive, that was probably more comfortable than his back anyways.
“I feel I should apologize for the state of us for this conversation. It could have been at a better time,” Caleb said, unused to such scrutiny, and unable to really face Essek without hurting his neck.
Essek moved closer, into his sight line. “I think we’re both too much of cowards for that.”
Grinning and risking the ache, Caleb turned a bit. “That we are.”
“I’m glad you’re alright,” Essek said, ever so gently moving a stray lock of hair out of Caleb’s eyes. He thought he might just melt into the mattress.
But before the exhaustion took him once more, he ought to do one thing more. He took the hand that wasn’t wound in Essek’s and put it at the nape of Essek’s neck. The shorter hair there was softer than he expected as he let gravity do most of his work for him.
Essek’s eyes flew wide as Caleb’s asked the unspoken question, then fluttered shut in a way that was far too attractive. He wanted to see more. Much more, when he was feeling less like literal death. But for now, very gently, Caleb directed Essek’s lips to meet his own. The kiss was slow and chaste, their lips still chapped, bodies worn out, and exhaustion creeping up on both of them.
Caleb couldn’t help but to smile, holding Essek in place for a moment, just to feel close as their foreheads pressed against each other. “Wanted to do that for a long time,” he murmured, closing his eyes, “wanted to do that before I fell back asleep.”
“It’s disconcerting sleeping so often,” Essek mumbled, moving to rest on the same pillow as Caleb, an arm slipping around him as he settled. “I’ve never had any experience so draining.”
Caleb was about to say something about dying taking a lot out of a person as well, but was cut off from his crude comment with a large yawn. Probably for the best, especially when he blinked his eyes open to see the absolutely soft look on Essek’s face.
Slowly, Essek’s hand drifted and brushed through his hair once more, cupping his cheek and tracing over some of the freckles. His hands were so soft. “You should rest,” he said, pulling back.
Catching his hand and pulling him closer, Caleb let his eyes close again. “Stay?” he said, knowing he couldn’t really do anything to stop him from leaving, weaker than the other wizard on a good day.
But Essek only settled back down, close and warm as he pulled a blanket more securely over them both. “I’ll stay. Rest now.”
He nodded into the darkness, relishing this closeness, this warmth he’d craved for so long.
Soon the Mighty Nein would wake up and bombard him with hugs and words and feelings that he wasn’t entirely prepared for. But for now, in this darkness, he could take this fragile blooming thing between him and Essek, and hold it close.