Chapter Text
Caleb’s voice is steady, quiet.
“I couldn’t wait any longer.”
Essek matches his tone.
“You’re here to learn more?”
“All I can.”
Far too selfish to make himself leave, far too weak-willed to plead Caleb to stay, Essek only manages a terse sigh.
“I have nothing to offer other than what you can already grasp yourself.”
“You and I both know that isn’t true.”
It’s true enough.
“What is your goal?”
“Presently, to know why you are comparing yourself to my old teacher.”
“That is why- that is why, Caleb Widogast.”
A palm braced to the tabletop, Essek shifts forward into Caleb’s space as if that will put emphasis to his point.
Enunciating each word to ensure he is understood, Essek continues digging the grave of this joy.
“He is still your old teacher and I am unfit to be your new.”
Essek will not plead.
But Caleb leans closer as well.
“And how is that?”
His jaw is set taut as if putting forth a petulant defiance. Veth comes to mind for some inexplicable reason.
Essek keeps his voice level.
“I worry I will contribute to the very thing you have attempted to conquer by sealing him away. This isn’t even to mention a commonality of decades seniority spent practicing such deceit and-.”
Light, what are the words. None of these are right. None of this is right. Caleb should not be here because of Essek. Essek can’t keep him safe.
“My deliberate exploitation of you. All of you. The harm I have brought your way.”
Caleb stares, incredulity plain in his silent scowl.
What can he say? What point can he make?
Essek presses further extremes, words low and insistent. He will not plead.
“I easily could have brought about your ends, many times- many ways over.”
Then, a bitter slip that Essek can’t bring himself to entirely regret.
“You wouldn’t have been the first.”
He did not plead then, either. Verin would have. Essek banishes the unwelcome thought.
And now, head tipped, Caleb’s lips curve to a bafflingly soft grin.
It’s not mockery.
Worse, his pretty blue eyes rest closer to understanding.
“I easily could have been the one with loosened chains, in another time.”
At that, Essek retreats as far as the confines of his chair allow, voice stolen.
Has Caleb been aware of his tampering with the Scourger in the cell all this time?
And yet here he is, still. Here he has been.
Essek had safeguards against death, but has Caleb no self-preservation at all if he thinks that encounter could have lead to it?
No, Essek has seen how Caleb uses himself to protect the others, to offer chances. How he uses his mind to try bringing life back to them, freeing the lives of many, many, leaving choruses of golden gratitudes in his wake while figments of red-leaking chest-walls appear at the fringes of awareness and slip away like shorn silk, inaccessible. What is he thinking, what is Essek thinking? Discordant whispers scream silent static.
Expression still mellow, almost reminiscent of Fjord, Caleb loosely links his fingers under his chin and sets his elbows to his knees, making up the distance Essek created.
Though Caleb is looking up to him at this angle, Essek can’t help but feel he is the one cowering beneath that soft blue gaze.
“You could have attempted with your very own hands, Essek. Many times. You wouldn’t have been the first- not against me, nor the rest.”
Caleb raises one hand as if holding an offering, palm up and fingers lightly curled.
“Possibilities are not necessarily realities.”
He raises his other hand just the same.
“Thoughts are not necessarily actions.”
His fingers weave together again, now resting loose between his knees.
“I would think you, of all people, understand the former, at least.”
Essek only sits frozen within himself, higher thought beyond observation unwilling to catch.
Caleb goes on.
“Are you the same person you were when we shoved your missteps in your face, again and again, intentionally or not?”
The statue of ice cracks.
“How generous of you, ‘missteps’.”
Caleb's lips press flat and he lets off a breath through his nose.
“How about this, then. Are you the same as you were the very first time we met, or the next, or the next, every single instance up until this very moment?”
Thawed awake as Caleb’s patronizing words burn their way into his shameful ears, Essek scoffs.
“I have the same head on my shoulders, the same weight on them as before. This has not changed, regardless of any amount of acceptance.”
“No, enough of that.”
And despite what sounds like deep determination in his voice, Caleb rests a gentle, grounding, impossibly incendiary palm against Essek’s shoulder. Luckily, Essek manages to hold in a hiss, but a grimace not so much as Caleb leans closer and presses on.
“You are not getting out of this by talking about past sins, Thelyss.”
At least he didn’t settle on Essek’s arm.
Caleb does not need to feel how Essek trembles with recollection- a confession, his Den name speared through him as though he were again seated upon a crate, unearned clemency presenting as condemnation and wrapped as absolution.
Though, there’s no Jester to hold his hand through this instance.
A fingertip burns two featherlight taps to Essek’s sternum.
“What about this?”
What about what?
Seeming dissatisfied with silence, Caleb’s grip on his shoulder grows firmer as he presses a nudge, and Essek bites back a wince. The pressure scorches.
“What would Beauregard say of you now? Are you the same?”
Why her?
No, Caleb’s reasoning is obvious: this is her work, to make these distinctions, these decisions.
Essek knows her most recent assessment. Of course he does.
It has played at the back of his mind continuously all these past months.
Where did it go earlier, then?
Caleb’s heat unbearable, Essek shrugs from the touch and tucks his arms away.
He says nothing.
Caleb narrows his eyes, sits up, but thankfully, regrettably, does not reach again.
“Even simpler, then. Yes or no.”
Not answering at this point feels as though it would be needlessly petulant, so Essek grits it out.
“No.”
“Then don’t insult my current company with that of my past.”
Self-sabotage continues to move Essek’s tongue in a thick whisper.
“I know your name.”
Caleb seems unperturbed.
“Many people do, and I know I’ve said it in front of you.”
While Essek rifles memory for further current endangerments, Caleb settles aside with a slow sigh, arms crossed and head lolled to a slight tilt. Not as imposing as Yasha can be, but cutting a close figure.
“You can draw similarities wherever you like- faults and connections will show up anywhere if you look long and hard enough. But if these last months dealing with the very beginnings of fallout have shown me anything, it’s the deliberate differences that matter so much more in the present.”
If these last months have shown Essek anything, it’s to acknowledge and decline a responsibility when it lies outside of his capabilities to maintain the safety of others.
But Caleb goes on, leaving Essek no room to get a word in edgewise.
“You have proven again and again that you are willing to peel yourself from a festering shed. Any resemblances of you to him are inconsequential in light of that key fact, as he took no opportunities to change his ways and you readily grasp every one we throw yours. This conversation is only further evidence.”
There’s a slight cadence to Caleb’s words that his usual lilt does not carry, an aspect metered, rehearsed. It’s strange enough to catch the barest hint of curiosity in Essek’s mind.
Clumsy words escape his mouth before he can swallow them.
“Do you even believe what you are saying?”
Caleb’s gaze hardens. Essek supplements with ship’s-belly memory in an attempt to placate.
“You sound as though you’re delivering an especially wordy recitation straight from the mouth of Caduceus.”
Caleb relaxes just slightly. Maybe Essek guessed correct.
“Perhaps I am, perhaps I’m not. Does that make it untrue either way?”
Receiving no response, Caleb dips his head, keeping Essek’s eyes.
“Would you rather my words over those like his for this?”
Does Essek even have a right to a preference?
He gives the tabletop his gaze and stays silent.
“Look at me, Essek.”
Caleb’s voice is too gentle, and Essek can’t decide what’s worse: the fact he is willing to give this man everything in this moment, or the fact he truly doesn’t mind the thought.
Essek looks.
“Who do you see?”
He holds those blue eyes, looks between them as if he can find some answer other than the only one he can give.
Had Caleb asked ‘what’, Essek could have easily, poetically, said ‘the expanse’ as it rests at home within every beacon. The branching of every thread of impossible potential, awaiting its inevitable precipitation via intent. A subtle force embedded in the fabric of the universe itself, guiding its shape into something inhabitable. Something worth reaching for. Something worth working for. Something worth learning and knowing and cherishing and.
And how unlikely it was indeed, for them to have found themselves in this exact moment.
But instead, Caleb asked ‘who’ and the only response to ‘who’ is the one Essek still dares to wish he could match.
Tension hemorrhages with his strained voice, a bleed he cannot stop.
“I see you, Caleb Widogast.”
And Caleb sighs, heavy, his words a mumble.
“I am making my own person.”
Exsanguine, Essek matches Caleb’s breath.
“You are.”
Caleb can flourish in a half-year surrounded with the warmth of the Nein, lighting a pride in Essek’s heart, while Essek still stagnates in the cold, shying away from the heat in the dark-
As if he knows exactly what Essek is attempting to think, Caleb cleaves the thought as it forms.
“You are, Essek. The other side of the coin- that’s the key, with you, and I.”
It’s too much.
Essek lays his head in his unholy hands and breathes, shakier than he’d prefer on both counts.
At least it doesn't burn.
“I want to believe you.”
If he can’t believe Caleb, who can he believe? No one that is currently present, at the very least.
Essek attempts to continue the line of thought fueling his concerns, to pontificate the validity of his anxieties if only for the stabbing catharsis of it, but they all slip, unable to catch sharp again.
Surely he has been entirely unreasonable, if this mental silence is such a relief.
So he does actually believe Caleb.
They are here, now. They are different from before.
Caleb’s voice carries soft to his ears.
“These past months have been difficult.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
A slight chuckle.
“I don’t mean for myself. Well, I suppose I do, but.”
Essek looks up to Caleb, discovering his face just as soft as his voice.
Ah-. Something has snagged in Essek’s ribs. It is not sharp.
Essek sighs in resignation, accepting his calmed mind.
“We all have burdens.”
“That we do.”
But what is he to Caleb if not what he has been?
That role is too heavy for Essek to claim and carry alone.
Unable to stop himself, Essek blurts.
“Colleagues, then. Peers.”
Caleb arches a calm brow as if awaiting clarification.
What is Essek thinking?
Can he really ask so much, positing that he is capable of elevating himself to truly stand alongside Caleb?
But he will not know if he does not ask, if he does not propose a goal.
“No instructor, no pupil. A level shared as curiosity and relevance dictate.”
Caleb’s eyes travel Essek’s face for a long while.
Some regretful, longing thing builds in Essek’s throat, chilling his fingers, his limbs, drawing him to seek shelter from sight. But he stays put under Caleb’s apparent analysis in hopes his intent is read as sincere.
The verdict arrives.
“You look terrified.”
Essek musters a joking drone, startled at being read so thoroughly.
“Facing death is easier than changing a lifetime’s expected standing.”
Caleb’s face does not even begin to inch a grin.
So Essek drops his eyes to his hands, holding still to keep them from worrying at the hems of his sleeves.
He gives a subdued chuckle.
“It- it sounds much worse in translation, I realize. My apologies.”
He hears Caleb sigh.
“Why lie about that, being consecuted?”
So they’re going to talk about this now?
Essek slumps a shrug, unsure how his spine is still holding him up.
“To blend in as part of the tapestry, to seem authoritative. I don’t know. It’s foolish in hindsight.”
“We knew next to nothing when we arrived.”
“Evidently.”
Caleb shifts in his seat, and Essek glances up to see him tipping his head, maybe even a ghost of a smile on his lips.
“There’s a snipped thread, then. The web has untangled some.”
“You think?”
“I know.”
Holding Caleb’s eyes a moment, Essek then casts his gaze to the notes scattered across the table.
He nods with pressed lips.
A rustle, and then Caleb’s hand appears directly in Essek’s line of sight.
He’s holding his lucky stone.
“That said, if things were to go- very, very bad, would you want me to try fixing them?”
Oh. He turns his face to Caleb.
This is why they are talking about it.
“I know my first attempt probably doesn’t inspire much confidence, but….”
Flicking his eyes between Caleb’s, Essek remembers the resignation, the wilting defeat they held in that dying city.
He never wants that in their blue again.
“Would you want to try?”
“Without a moment’s hesitation.”
Caleb says it as such as well.
Words clotted in his throat, all Essek can do is knot his brows in reply.
Caleb’s face marginally warms with a half grin and upturned brows, a slight crinkle around his pretty blue eyes.
“You have so much good left to do.”
That elicits a wry huff of a laugh and Essek expels his stuck response.
“You grant me too much credit, Caleb Widogast.”
“Not for you to decide, Essek Thelyss.”
Though said in a wholly different context, a wholly different tone, Essek can’t stop a shiver as dread cradles his stomach.
“Are you still cold?”
Essek peers at Caleb.
Eyes are tight, lips flat, brows together, upturned taut now. Concern seems genuine enough.
So Essek huffs a chuckle.
“No, just. What have you done, making me fear my own name on your tongue.”
No, that is far too close to the truth. Maybe humor will distract.
“‘Still cold’, though? I should be asking you, after the mold.”
Caleb’s brows only grow tighter.
“I am kidding. More bad jokes.”
Gods he needs to work on this.
“Essek.”
How much warmer that sounds.
He sighs.
“Yes?”
“Are you regretting it? Spending your time this way?”
A ridiculous question.
“It is hard to bring myself to regret time spent like this. There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”
“Because you’ve nowhere to be?”
No, Essek wants to be here.
“I could be at the outpost, still.”
Caleb's expression softens a bit.
“I suppose.”
Essek chose to be here.
“I’m capable of my own decisions.”
The half grin returns.
“You are.”
He is.
So he gives another low sigh, not bothering to raise his voice above muttering since Caleb is close enough to hear regardless.
“I suppose if it came down to it, I would prefer to be alive than not.”
There is something that catches in Caleb’s eyes, something bright.
Essek does not know what it means, but it does not seem unkind.
Caleb heaves a sigh.
“Keep standing with me, then, ja?”
There is a shift in Essek’s ribcage. A twinge.
Something resting deep turns in its sleep.
“We are friends, Caleb? Genuinely?”
Light abound, where did that come from?
A split second before Essek can bury his face in his mortified hands or disappear himself entirely, Caleb’s response warms the air.
“I would certainly like to think so by now.”
That line between Caleb’s brows must mean worry, concern.
“Have I done something that’s led you to believe otherwise?”
Essek watches his own fingernails.
“It can be…”
He musters up some semblance of courage, eyes raised and narrowed to Caleb’s.
“Challenging, to tell the difference between intent and turn of phrase, sometimes.”
A short puff of breath and Caleb nods his gaze down. He only seems to be considering.
“Then if it is any reassurance, I may throw the word around at times, but….”
His eyes flick up, burner blue catching a direct line into Essek, a filament of gravity drawing him in and making it impossible for him to look anywhere else.
“To my memory, I’ve only ever intimated that earnestly with you.”
To his memory. His incredible memory.
Essek’s face is inexplicably warm, his hands ice.
“Thank you, I-. I appreciate that. Very much.”
Caleb gives him a pressed smile under upturned brows.
“If I may ask in return?”
“Of course.”
Caleb breathes a slight grin, heavy gaze softening.
Essek pauses, waits.
“What do you want to ask?”
A brief hold, and then Caleb laughs. Not a sunburst, but it rings a little richer, a little fuller, than it had previously.
Good, this is what Essek wants, even if he must have said something half-witted.
And then Caleb poses his question.
“We are friends, Essek?”
“O-oh I-. Ah, ha.”
So Caleb thought that ‘of course’ was Essek’s answer. His confidence isn’t set so firm quite yet.
“I- I would just as gladly assume so.”
Caleb bumps another laugh, his smile returned warm.
“Don’t assume, know it.”
Something chilled clicks, cracks, shears in Essek’s chest, spilling through the rest of him like a torrent. It doesn’t hurt, and he is very cold indeed.
Though, an interesting note: not a shiver to be had.
Unsure what to do with this, he packs it away for later.
Essek nods.
A moment more of a held gaze that begins to grow awkward, and then Caleb turns to his notes with a little more animation than strictly necessary, palms pressed to pages.
“I think I’ve just about finished my first attempt at noodling, by the way, if you would like to run some tests soon.”
A distraction, perfect.
Unable to fully contain his surprise, Essek leans to the table to get a better look at Caleb’s progress.
“Already?”
It hasn’t been that long.
Caleb catches his eyes.
Ah, there is that confidence again. What a delight.
“A good explanation and a fair amount of interest go a long way. You’ve done the hard work, I’m simply following along and trying to keep up with the trickier bits.”
Why didn’t he ask if things were giving him trouble?
“They might have been easier to work through if I had expanded or rephrased them.”
Caleb quiets, but the shift in tone sounds less like a loss of confidence and more along the lines of sheepish.
“You’ve seemed, ah- tired, I suppose. More distractible, than you used to. I didn’t want to be a bother while you rested.”
Oh.
Caleb grins.
“Now you’re up, let’s see what else unspools. You can tell me the rest of your tangent on dunamis if you’re still so inclined.”
Essek manages to speak.
“We’ll see.”
A quick nod, and then Caleb gives his attention to his work.
He shifts aside slightly as he continues writing on the far page, and Essek is able to glimpse some of his puzzling: a focus on Arcane Lock.
Arcane Lock?
Will this work if there’s nothing physical for it to anchor to?
Caleb is extremely clever and this is no doubt upon him, but multiple sets of eyes are probably safer than a single pair. Maybe Essek can put some humor into it as well.
“Based on the mishaps I’ve experienced thus far, it’s better to be safe than sorry, so- may I check your work, before you attempt any casting?”
“Of course.”
Caleb’s tone, paired with a paused quill and a quirked eyebrow, sounds as if that is a given, or a silly thing to ask.
Maybe it is, but most joke setups tend to be, Essek finds.
“Good, I don’t want things to, ah.”
Keeping Caleb’s eyes, Essek tries flattening his voice.
“Blow up in our faces.”
A pause of pricking anticipation, and Essek’s small smile feels much more like a wince as Caleb watches him.
And then Caleb breaks to a quiet laugh and a light smile, a peek of sun through storm clouds.
“Ja, let’s not let that happen.”
Taking a moment to breathe in this warmth, Essek’s own grin fits much better.
A success.
But- wait. Maybe he can make Caleb’s brighter.
“Caleb?”
“Yes?”
Essek sets his voice low, serious.
“I have something I need to tell you before that, though.”
Caleb’s brows furrow.
“I was lying, before.”
The furrow deepens.
“About what?”
Hopefully Essek’s planned inanity will be enough to release this tension in a snap.
Solemn, Essek casts his eyes down.
“The other component is Detect Thoughts, specifically its copper conduit for the transfer.”
He meets Caleb’s tense eyes, attempting to level his tone confident and declarative as he shakes his head.
“Magic Missile doesn’t work.”
Essek has to bite his lower lip to keep a hopeful grin from splitting his face as he looks between Caleb’s eyes.
But not for long, as Caleb near immediately bursts a laugh.
Contagious as it is, Essek joins him, though quieter.
This, too, is power, he considers, drawing out joy like this. A hearty success.
Yasha would be proud, probably.
They settle, and Caleb takes a long breath.
He gives a sigh, but it doesn’t seem displeased.
“I’ll be sure to check my sources next time.”
A chill finds its way back to Essek’s hands.
Maybe he needs more cocoa, and maybe he’ll try it with cinnamon this time.
“Please do.”
Held blue eyes, a pressed grin, and then Caleb nods.
With a bump of a chuckle and his smile still present, he returns to his writing.
Just as warm, just as close.
Maybe this won’t be so bad, Essek thinks while kneading at his cold palms.
Maybe the chasm isn’t so wide, so deep. Maybe the bridge is hardier than he thought, not quite so weathered by time.
Maybe it’s been patched or, rather, rebuilt in some places at a different angle, a little more even.
Maybe the foundations have sunk in a little further, maybe falls will be a little more survivable.
Maybe he is simply unadjusted, and needs to become reacquainted with Caleb’s company.
Maybe he needs to keep his friends’ words closer to the forefront of his mind, to remind himself they are out there.
Perhaps it is as simple as that.
Then, time will tell if any of this is the case.
This is yet another beginning, after all.