Archive of Our Own ^beta

when they're throwing stones,
there's a place i know
i can always go—to my sanctuary, baby,
where i run. and when the streets are burnin', baby,
and i know if they come with torches
'cause they don't like the truth,
they can't hurt me when i'm with you.
you're my sanctuary, baby
and i know i'm home (i’m home).

/

i.

.

They kill him in Whitestone.

It feels anticlimactic, to kill him anywhere other than Rexxentrum. But with the end of the war came the collapse of the Cerberus Assembly, and Trent was always too smart to get caught with them. He fled to Whitestone a few weeks before anyone came calling, whether it was the Mighty Nein or other parties he had wronged. By the time TravelerCon was over and they had a moment to consider their next move, he was gone.

It wasn’t terribly difficult to get there. Beau has enough clout within the Order to use the teleportation circles at any Cobalt archive. They’d had to leave their ship and make a few jumps along the way—Port Damali to Zadash, Zadash to Rexxentrum, Rexxentrum to Westruun. From there it was a journey of a few weeks on horseback, and Beau knew that everyone was wondering whether Trent would still be there when they arrived, even if no one spoke that fear out loud. Caleb looked troubled enough that no one wanted to add any more onto the pile.

She stuck as close to Caleb as she could without overwhelming him. It’s just how they’ve worked once they got over their differences. Beau and Caleb are always there for each other—across a room, within arm’s reach, beside each other but never intrusive. Beau took watches with him, diverted anyone else’s attention when she could tell he wanted to be alone.

She asked after his motives, his methods and plans, but never questioned.

Beau noticed that everyone else supported him in their own ways. Jester and Veth were the most obvious about it, of course—constantly making sure that he wasn’t spending too much time in his own head; just sitting near him as quietly (or as not-quietly) as they were able. Even Fjord made a visible effort, though Beau knew she only noticed more than others because she was actually looking.

Beau knew what a rough time Caleb was having when he crapped out on a watch with her, fell asleep against her shoulder and didn’t wake up until Jester and Veth came to tap them out.

Jester had walked up to Beau first, placed a hand softly on her free shoulder. Veth was already at Caleb’s side, shaking him gently, but Beau stopped her from fully waking him up.

“I’ll get him back to the dome,” she murmured.

“I can do it, Beau,” Jester offered, still yawning.

Beau shook her head. “Nah, you’re still waking up, Jessie. If you can help get him on my back, I’ll take him. He’s basically a stick anyway.”

“So are you,” Veth quipped.

“Hey.” Beau pointed a finger at Veth while Jester arranged Caleb on her back, draping his arms so she could grab onto them. “I’m the kind of stick that can cut you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Veth slunk off into the high grass, stealthing a loop around their camp.

“Are you sure you’re good?” Jester asked as they watched Veth disappear.

“‘Course I am,” Beau promised. “I’m always good.”

Jester gave her a look but didn’t press any further. She leaned to the side, checking to see if Caleb was still asleep before she spoke again.

“Do you really think we’ll find Trent?” she asked softly. “It’s been a few weeks since Rexxentrum; maybe he left Whitestone a while ago.”

Beau thought about that for a little before answering. It wasn’t like she hadn’t thought about it before, but after weeks of mulling it over she’d decided it doesn’t matter. “He might have left,” she admits. “But we’ve traveled a whole bunch of places for everyone else. If Trent isn’t in Whitestone, we just keep going.”

Jester had looked at her strangely then, sadness and confusion and something tender swirling in her eyes. Beau felt her heart clench but she didn’t say anything, waiting for Jester to explain it away.

Instead, Jester had nodded—patted Beau’s shoulder just a little too heavily, lingered just a little too long. “Okay,” she whispered. “Make sure he gets some sleep.”

Beau saluted silently and walked back to their camp, arranging Caleb’s bedroll next to hers and wrapping him tightly against the cold night wind.

The rest of the journey passed just as monotonously, in cold days and nights where they rarely spoke. There was a solemnity to their travel as they let the chaos of the peace talks and TravelerCon drift off of them. Some grew lighter once that weight was gone; others found another burden to take its place, draped over their backs like a blanket.

On a few quiet nights, Caleb lifted his up and let Beau share.

Trent was in Whitestone after all, working in an abandoned lab underneath the city. From what Beau could piece together between Caleb’s memories and the information they’d learned from research, an old student-turned-colleague of Trent’s had fled Wildemount to wreak havoc on Tal’Dorei, most of it centered around the ruling family in Whitestone. She sent residuum back to Trent to support his experiments while she worked on concoctions of her own.

Beau knew the history of Whitestone a little, at least in terms of recent events. The city had been on her list of places to visit for a while, even before the Mighty Nein. It was a place steeped in lore and myth, and Beau wanted to know for herself which of the legends were true. Stories of vampires and giants roaming the streets; an unnameable beast with horns razing a mansion to the ground—if they weren’t on a mission, Beau could easily have spent weeks here.

(Whispers about the Lady of Whitestone reached her ears as well—she was a vision to look at, and positively lethal with a bow.

Beau could have visited for shallow reasons as well.)

The tunnels underneath the city were dank and slimy, though not as long as the ones they traveled through to reach the Ashguard Garrison. Trent eluded them more than once, sending them on a chase through the tunnels and above ground, culminating in a battle in the forest surrounding the city.

It was a nasty fight, even by their standards. Trent had packed his pockets with residuum and mined from them magical feats and abilities that stymied even Caleb. But he was still one person against seven, and they managed to take him down as he fired off one last spell of desperation.

Trent Ikithon died in Whitestone.

So did Jester.

//

ii.

.

Beau skips down the stairs, rubbing the back of her neck and resisting the urge to jump completely from the fourth-to-last step. She’d done that on the first day here, carelessly rushing around the castle, and landed on an unfortunate housekeeper. It seems no matter where she goes, she’s given more chances to hone her apologizing skills.

She finishes her descent with a vault anyway, after making sure that no one else is within arm’s reach. Her landing doesn’t even echo on the marble floor, and she chuckles as she jogs the rest of the way to the kitchen. A few members of the staff wave to her as she passes; some offer her an expression only slightly nicer than a scowl.

Beau takes a deep breath, considers what someone better than her would do, and waves back to all of them.

The kitchen is busy when she gets there, even though it’s still early afternoon. Beau swings through the double doors, catching herself as a cook rushes past with a pot of water. She makes her way over to the far stove, where Varon, one of the senior chefs, is tending to a gigantic pot of stew.

“Sup, Varon.”

He simply grunts, the noise rattling in his throat. Beau watches the loose skin at his neck jiggle.

She leans over him to peer into the pot. “That smells....really meaty. You know Caduceus is a vegetarian, right?”

“Yep.”

“Is that dinner?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Beau wrinkles her nose at the thick smell of fat. “The fuck is it?”

Varon sighs and puts down his spoon. “It’s the official dish of Whitestone. Please don’t make me say its name.”

“Why not?”

He picks up his spoon and stirs it again, silently. “The man who...commissioned me to make it is visiting today. He’s requested that it always be on hand, should he get hungry.”

“Is he staying for a couple weeks or something?”

“No.” Varon cuts Beau off before she can ask any more questions. “Your plate is near the oven, as it always is.” He turns his back to her as she walks to get it. “Once again, Expositor, you don’t need to talk to me every time you come down here.”

Beau balances her plate of food with one hand as she uses the other one to flick Varon off over her shoulder. “I’ll quit it soon as you call me Beau,” she says. Then she kicks the doors open.

Beau can hear him sigh from the hallway.

She walks back upstairs, slower this time. The upper floors of the castle are quieter, mostly comprising residence rooms for staff and guests. Beau doesn’t run into anyone in the hallways, though she does hear a bit of chatter from behind closed doors. She likes Castle Whitestone—it looks like it used to be very dreary, and the shadows at night still seem to be a little too dark. But it’s on the mend, reminding its inhabitants that it’s alive by the way it’s getting better.

Her room is quiet, as it has been since they got settled. Larger than the bedroom in the Xhorhaus, and exceptionally more ornate than her quarters in Zadash. Beau had rolled her eyes the first time she saw it, because there’s nothing stuffy nobility love more than an overdressed guest room. But she’s glad for its expanse now, for all of the places to rest and corners she can hide in.

She sets the food on a table next to the oversized bed. She hasn’t told anyone, but Beau doesn’t sleep in it. The housekeepers don’t even know, since they’re not allowed to clean in here. Beau tries her best to make this a room that feels lived in, as close to a home as it can get while they’re still here.

More than anything she wants this to be a comforting place to wake up.

Even in warm weather there’s a chill to the air. Beau closes the window, sighing as she feels the sun on her cheeks. Maybe she’ll get outside for longer than fifteen minutes today.

For now, she crosses the room and carefully sits on the foot of the bed, taking up only as much space as she needs.

“Hey, Jes,” she murmurs. Beau reaches for Jester’s hand—her fingers wrap around cool skin, alive but only just. She’s in a sort of stasis, the same way she has been for almost three days. Beau has wondered often in that time if Trent was aiming for Jester, or if he just got lucky. She’s not sure which she prefers—there’s no way someone should be able to take Jester down with just dumb fucking luck.

Caduceus was able to use Revivify on her almost immediately after the battle. Beau is pretty sure that’s the only thing that saved her from being completely dead—not just because of Caduceus’s spell, but because of Trent’s. From everything Beau knows and everything Caduceus and Caleb have told her about healing magic, there’s no reason why Jester should still be unconscious. She should have been able to sleep it off, at least until she felt well enough to be awake again. Maybe she’s still doing that, and everyone else is overreacting.

Beau doesn’t believe that for a second.

She scoots the plate closer to the edge of the table. “Got you some pastries,” she says, swiping a thumb across the back of Jester’s hand. “Apparently Lady de Rolo—Vex, ‘scuse me—owns a bakery in town and they sell bear claws there. I’m working with the kitchen here to make them as good as the ones in Nicodranas. Probably impossible without your help, but.” Beau sweeps a lock of hair from Jester’s face. “Gotta have something to do, I guess.”

She updates Jester on what’s been happening, even though it essentially boils down to ‘not a lot’.

Beau only sort of remembers the immediate aftermath. She isn’t sure how they got to the castle but she thinks a few guards on patrol might have run across them in the forest. They were definitely escorted back to the castle in a less than welcoming manner, but Beau barely noticed.

She thinks it was a coincidence that Vex was near the entrance when they arrived. She was talking to a few kids—her kids, Beau would later learn—and she frowned as the group walked in, her expression immediately shifting to concern as she clocked Yasha holding a very unconscious Jester. The rest of the day is a blur for Beau—Caleb and Fjord did most of the talking while Caduceus and Yasha helped the few healers work on Jester.

Beau isn’t sure what Veth did. Hopefully it was more than just sitting near Jester and focusing very hard on not throwing up.

Whatever is wrong with Jester is something beyond Caduceus’s capabilities, beyond what even the healers of Whitestone can fix. Caleb and Vex left a few days ago to collect some of Vex’s friends; from what Beau could gather, one of them is a very powerful cleric who is responsible for bringing a god back to the Exandrian pantheon or something.

Clerics and their gods, man.

Beau relocates to the loveseat under the window and stretches out, hanging her legs off the side. The sun is warm as it covers her entire face. She closes her eyes and relaxes into it, grabbing a few minutes of quiet before the interruptions begin.

It’s mostly Caduceus and Yasha—Caduceus to try healing a little more, and Yasha just to sit. Or stand, sometimes. Like Beau, she finds comfort in just being near Jester, in being able to see her breathing and cared for even if she should have woken up by now.

A few minutes of quiet becomes twenty, and Beau is just on the cusp of dropping into a deep sleep when a knock sounds at the door. She sits up, rubbing at her eyes, as Caleb, Vex, Caduceus, and two gnomes file into the room.

“Party in Whitestone,” she croaks groggily.

“And soon to be even larger,” Caleb says. “Can we pull you away for a moment?”

Beau rolls her neck, stretches her arms until she hears popping. “Yeah, sure.”

Caleb waits for everyone else to leave, stopping Beau before she joins them. He doesn’t say anything—perhaps he’s reached his word limit for the day; Beau doesn’t know how much talking he did on his journey with Vex. He simply rests a hand on her shoulder, asking with a look if everything is okay, relatively speaking. Beau pulls him into a quick hug. If he makes an effort to squeeze a little tighter, she doesn’t say anything.

They walk down the hallway to another empty room, almost a clone of Beau’s except that it has a substantial table instead of a bed. Everyone sits down near each other; Beau installs herself at the far end and kicks her feet up.

Vex laughs softly as the gnomes settle in; Beau can barely see their heads.

“Percy rigged these to accommodate height,” she says, bending down to look at the underside of the chairs. “There’s a lever somewhere...ah!” She pulls something and one of the chairs shoots up, sending the gnome in it grasping for the edge of the table.

“Whoops!” Vex fiddles a little more and the chair sinks until it puts the gnome at eye level. She reaches to do the same to the other chair, but the other gnome stops her.

“Don’t worry, Vex,” he says haughtily, “I think I can handle this.”

He shoots up even higher and Beau barks out a laugh.

“I’m sure you’ll pick it up eventually, Scanlan,” Vex teases. She turns her attention to Beau and offers a small smile. “You look like you’ve rested a little, Beau. How are you feeling?”

Beau shrugs. “Fine.”

The look in Vex’s eyes tells Beau that she can see every part of Beau that isn’t fine.

She doesn’t say anything about it though, just nods and clears her throat. “Well. These are some of my dearest friends and former adventuring companions.” Vex gestures to the gnome on her right, beautiful and smiling with white hair and kind eyes. “This is Pike Trickfoot, a cleric of Sarenrae, and her husband, Scanlan Shorthalt.”

Scanlan bows as much as he can in his chair. “Scanlan Shorthalt, at your service.”

“You a cleric, too?” Beau asks.

Scanlan grins widely. “I’m many things—entertainment in dark times; a comfort for sadness and solitude; a grand storyteller, ready with thrilling tales when you’ve run out of words—”

“So, no,” Beau interrupts.

Scanlan shakes his head. “Oh, absolutely not. Mostly just along for the ride.”

“And what a ride it was,” Caleb mutters, garnering Beau’s first smile of the day.

“Yeah, you guys were gone for longer than I thought.”

“We had a few stops to make, and I can only teleport a few times a day,” Caleb explains. “Allura should be arriving with the rest soon, if she hasn’t already.”

“More healers?”

“A few,” Vex answers, “plus one of our other friends.”

“You weren’t kidding about it being a party.”

“Well, we rarely get together as a group these days,” Scanlan adds.

Beau’s lips thin as she glares. “Real fuckin’ glad you can use this opportunity to socialize.”

“We’re only here to help, Beau,” Pike says. Her voice is soft and soothing, and Beau is immediately reminded of Jester, of how she makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world when she talks to you. Beau feels herself mellow as Pike speaks.

“We’re very powerful people, alone and together,” she continues. “But I think laughter and friendship heal just as much as medicine does, when things are difficult.”

“Sure.” Beau looks down, clears her throat a few times. “Friendship.” She taps her fingers on the table and sighs. “So what’s the plan?”

“Ms. Trickfoot, Caduceus, and I are going to work together to see if we can’t come up with some more creative approaches to this problem”—Pike interrupts to correct Caleb with a quiet ‘Pike, please’—“and Vex thought you might benefit from a bit of a break.”

“Caleb…”

“I find it interesting that I’ve told you it was Vex’s idea and yet you’ve decided to scold me,” Caleb replies. Beau is ready to go in for round two, but she catches the faintest twinkle in his eye. He’s comforting and playful, in his own way. Perhaps these are things he would offer to anyone he was close to; perhaps he’s only like this with Beau. Either way, she appreciates it.

“I’ve known you longer,” Beau retorts. “Vex still gets as many manners as I can manage.”

“Oh, I can assure you they’re wholly unnecessary, darling,” Vex winks. “You’ll change your mind after I tell you a few stories of our adventuring days.”

“We never did anything with dignity,” Scanlan says. Vex smiles fondly at him and Beau catches a wisp of nostalgia and affection in her cheeks.

Beau will count herself lucky if she feels that some day.

“I guess it’s pretty nice out,” she concedes. “If she wakes up…”

“We’ll tell you immediately,” Pike assures. “I have Sending.”

“Okay. Should we go now, or…”

“Might as well catch the sun while it’s out. It fades so quickly here,” Vex sighs.

“Sure.”

Beau gets up, adjusts her pants as she and Vex leave. Caleb sends her off with a wave—Pike and Caduceus, with warm smiles; and Scanlan, a wink.

Beau is charmed despite her best efforts not to get attached.

Her stomach flutters as Vex leads her out of the room with a hand on her back, and Beau wonders if she’ll ever quit being helpless around older women. It’s (mostly) only because Jester’s around that Beau forgets to be distracted by Marion.

She breathes deeply as they exit the castle. It does feel good to be outside, even if she’d rather be close to Jester. But that’s a feeling that’s never going to go away, even while they are in the same room. Jester is just...Beau will never get enough of her.

“I can hear your mind whirring,” Vex says, clasping her hands behind her back as they walk out of the city. Every citizen they pass recognizes her, but none of them drops to a knee or offers anything more formal than a quick bend of the head. Beau thinks the de Rolo family might be noble in a different, fuller sense of the word.

“Can’t help it,” she says. “There’s a lot to think about these days, and that’s what I was trained to do.”

“An academic monk?” Vex smiles. “That’s a new one for me.”

“Well, academic when I’m forced to be. I’d much rather punch something. A lot of somethings. Anything, really.”

Vex laughs, the sun glinting off of her dark eyes and reflecting a flash of amber. “You remind me of Allura’s wife, Kima.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Vex nods. “Restless when indoors, lethal with a warhammer, and always ready to fight—whether she was starting or finishing them.”

“Sounds like my kinda woman,” Beau smirks.

“Does she?” Vex smiles slyly, a knowing twinkle in her eye. “Perhaps Allura will bring her—Kima never liked them to be too far away.”

“Yeah,” Beau whispers. “I get that.”

The sun fades as Vex steers them closer to the forest, slipping behind the thick crop of trees. Beau furrows her brows but doesn’t say anything, preferring, as always, to assess a situation on her own before asking anything.

“Did you know I was quite a capable ranger, in another life?”

“You’ve lived more than one life?”

“Metaphorically, darling,” Vex smiles.

“Oh. Because I know people who can do that.”

“You do?”

“Not well,” Beau shrugs. “But yeah.” The forest darkens as they creep further in, dead and dry leaves rustling around their feet. “Anyway. You were saying about being a super badass ranger?”

Vex nods, chuckling. “I don’t think anyone’s put it so bluntly before, but looking back on it now, they should have. It was out of necessity at first,” she explains. “My brother and I had to flee our hometown after a dragon destroyed it.”

“Oh, shit.” Beau thinks back to the dragon they faced in the Happy Fun Ball and wonders if it would have been capable of taking out an entire town. If it couldn’t, just how large was the dragon who could?

“The rest I picked up out of curiosity,” Vex continues, “and a considerable amount of talent.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Beau grins. “You should talk to Cad; he’s, like, all about animals and nature and shit.”

“Is he? Interesting, for a cleric.”

“He follows the Wildmother. Fjord, too, but”—Beau waves a hand dismissively—“I dunno really how it works; I’ve never been one for religion.”

“Did I also mention,” Vex smiles, “that I’m a champion of Pelor?”

Beau takes a moment to regard her and finds nothing but a sly grin. “Okay. Couple of things: 1) what? 2) how? 3) and this is just a general thing, but I feel like there’s a lot of ground to cover in between ‘ranger’ and ‘champion of the Dawnfather’.”

“Well, my friends and I got up to quite a lot in our glory days. Vampires, dragons, archliches...they’ve written books about us, you know.”

“Hold on.” Cogs start turning in Beau’s brain, forgotten stories and knowledge from her training at the Cobalt Reserve. She never focused too much on history, preferring instead to take a political and martial approach to her studies. But a base of knowledge was required of all monks, including learning a general history of the continents, up through relevant recent events.

Beau continues her analysis. “The vampires of Whitestone, I assume, which makes total sense.” Vex nods. “I dunno about the dragons but I’ve only ever heard about one archlich.” Vex raises her eyebrows, prompting her to continue. “You and your friends took down Vecna?”

“Banished him,” Vex corrects, “after an awful battle. It’s been the quiet life for us since then, mostly.”

“Holy shit.”

“Indeed.”

“Holy shit.” Beau scratches at the sides of her head, mind racing. “Holy shit, I have so many questions.”

“Well, we’ve got nothing but time, darling.”

“How many vampires were there? Do you have to have wood to kill them? Did they have anything to do with the coup here? You know, you should talk to Caleb about this if you can get him in the right mood; the guy we killed definitely taught someone who fucked up a bunch of shit over here.”

Vex straightens immediately, her face growing stern and tense. “Who?”

“I don’t know; Caleb’s pretty tight-lipped about this stuff, and he might not even know. Why? Do you think they’ll come back?”

“No,” Vex sighs. “I’d just love for them to stop haunting us.” She takes a deep breath and turns her face away; Beau can see prominent worry lines on her cheeks before she does. “Anyway. Would you like to have some fun?”

“What kind of fun?”

Vex walks over to an old tree, roots around in a knot that hasn’t yet been covered up, and pulls out a quiver of arrows. Only now does Beau register the bow strapped to her back. She slides it off in one fluid motion and nocks an arrow, testing the pull of the bowstring. Beau’s never had any desire to learn archery but this bow might change her mind—the wood is sleek, a smooth brown that bleeds into platinum tips. There is glittering mithral running from either side of the handle up the length of the body in elegant whorls and coils. Vex spins it twice in her palm, her body loosening as it turns.

“Nice bow,” Beau comments. “You could have told me; I would have brought mine.”

“You’re an archer?”

“No, not a bow but a bo—it’s a staff, I mean. Got a bow on it, my name’s Beau; it’s a whole thing.”

“I see,” Vex smiles. “Well, I’m sure you’re quite capable without it.”

Beau cranes to look at the arrows in Vex’s quiver, counting at least half a sheaf. “You won’t hit me with any of those,” she challenges.

“No?” Vex abruptly fires one, and Beau smirks as her hand instinctively shoots up to catch it.

She has to duck to avoid the second and third.

“Pretty dirty, shooting without warning!” Beau calls as she darts behind a tree.

“Pretty impressive, catching it out of the air!” Vex calls back. “But I’m afraid I can’t go easy on you now.”

“Yeah, well, me either!”

Beau sprints up the trunk of the tree, barely using her hands. She settles on a branch at the top, leaning down very carefully to judge whether or not she’s still in range.

An arrow whizzes past her nose.

Beau laughs as she looks around, scanning for the best path across the treetops. It feels wonderful to be out here—to feel the adrenaline of a chase, the wind as it whips her hair out of its ribbon and into a frenzy. She takes a deep breath and crouches, aimed toward a tree on her left. She’ll have to expose herself for a moment, but she can probably make it if she’s fast.

It’s a close call; Beau can feel the arrow as it grazes the back of her shirt. She thinks about catching more of them but speed seems a better asset, and she spends the next ten minutes evading a barrage of arrows. Vex clearly had more than she thought, or maybe she’s got a second stash hidden in another tree.

A poorly timed leap sends Beau crashing down a few boughs, forcing her to dangle from a small branch with one hand. Vex is at the base of the tree almost immediately, nocking and firing an arrow with incredible speed. Beau’s eyes widen as she watches the arrow split into three separate ones, all of them hurtling quickly toward her face.

She takes a deep breath and channels her ki, thinking of Jester, of the terrifying concept of her being in danger. Beau slaps the first two arrows away with the back of her hand and catches the third, hurling it back at Vex just as quickly.

Vex winces as it grazes her shoulder. As soon as it does, there’s an absolutely thunderous roar from a nearby copse of trees.

Beau drops from the tree at the shock of the noise, but Vex turns around with a fond smile.

“Trinket!” she yells. “I’m not actually in any danger, you silly boy!”

The trees rustle and twigs snap under foot as a hefty brown bear lumbers into view. Trinket is almost five feet from his shoulder, and clearly in his later years—if bears could have beards, he would have one. Beau stands and backs up against the nearest tree, but Vex walks closer to him, slinging her bow back over her shoulder.

She scratches at his cheek and nose before burying herself in his fur. Beau watches incredulously as he drapes an arm over Vex’s back, rumbling low and almost friendly.

“Hey, buddy,” she coos, scritching at his chest. “Don’t worry about Beau; she’s just a little cranky right now. You like cranky people, right?”

Trinket grunts again, watching Beau with one eye as she approaches, though he doesn’t move.

Beau kicks the ground and looks up at him. “Well, that explains the statue.”

“Trinket’s been a part of the family since he was a cub. He even took down a vampire or two,” Vex says, reaching up to scratch at his ear. She stands up and looks back at Beau. “He makes for a very good pillow.”

At that word, Trinket drops onto his hind legs and arranges them so there’s enough room for Vex to sit down, which she does.

“Room for two,” she says, patting the space next to her.

Beau sits down, rolling her eyes. She scoots closer to Vex when Trinket shifts his leg; part of her is sure he did that on purpose. Vex is right—Trinket is comfy as she stretches her legs and sinks back into his fur.

“Pretty cool pet to have,” she says. “Jessie’s got a dog and a weasel, but I only like them okay.”

“Trinket’s a friend,” Vex corrects. “He stopped being a pet once we learned to talk to each other.”

Beau looks over at Vex, studies her face—serene and serious, any wrinkle or worry line erased from her smooth elven skin. Beau isn’t sure when she did her adventuring; before the kids at least, so she probably doesn’t look too different now. But there’s a gravity to her eyes; Beau has caught glimpses of weariness in the short time they’ve been here.

She rests her arm on Trinket’s leg as if he were a chair. “My bad. Friend’s even better.” She doesn’t comment on the sag in his ears, how low his fur hangs off of his chin. Vex knows loss more than she does probably, which doesn’t bode well for Beau and her friends.

“Are Jester’s animals here with her?” Vex asks.

“Just the weasel. Nugget’s with her mom in Nicodranas.”

“Is that where you’re all from?”

Beau shakes her head. “Just Jester; Caleb, Veth, and I are all from the Empire. Fjord is from Port Damali, Caduceus is from some woods in northern Wildemount, and Yasha’s vaguely from Xhorhas.”

“And yet you found your way together. Funny how that happens,” Vex smiles. “I’m afraid we haven’t gotten to see too much of Wildemount, just a few trips to visit some friends in Deastok.”

“No shit.”

Vex turns to look at her. “Have you been there?”

Beau thinks back to traveling with her father’s wine, trying to set up a trade route to convince him it was a good idea. There were certainly enough inns and taverns to do good business, but. It didn’t turn out.

“A few times,” she says. “My parents make wine near there, in Kamordah.”

Vex narrows her eyes. “What label?”

“Lionett,” Beau answers. “Why?”

“Oh.” Vex relaxes, settling back against Trinket. “Percy and I were sent a few bottles of wine from Kamordah for our wedding, but I believe it was another winery.”

Beau nods. “Stassman, probably. They’re okay, but they overcharge and that whole family’s into weird shit.”

“I believe that. The wine was fine right up until the poison hit.”

“You got poisoned on your wedding day?” Beau blurts.

“Well, technically it was just a ceremony for friends.”

“Oh, okay. That totally makes it better.” Vex kicks her foot a little and Beau wonders where this familiarity came from, why Vex seems to have taken a liking to her.

“I can’t imagine getting married anyway, poison or not,” Beau continues.

“No?”

Beau shrugs. “I don’t really think about the future much. Day-to-day is hard enough.”

Vex hums at that—in reminiscence or sympathy, Beau’s not sure. She lays her hand out next to Beau, her palm more weathered than the back of it. Beau thinks back to the early days with Jester, before they were as comfortable and as close with each other as they are now. She remembers days in carts, nights crammed into the same bed, where Jester would hold out a hand and wait for Beau to take it, if she wanted to. Jester never complained if she didn’t.

Vex’s skin is pale against hers, soft as she threads their fingers together.

“If you did think about the future,” Vex muses, “what would it look like?”

“I dunno.” But her response is too quick and Vex gives her time to think, time to decide which impossible dreams she wants to say out loud. “I like—I like the way things are now, I like traveling with my friends. Mostly I just want to keep doing that.”

Vex nods. “I used to be like that. It’s an absolutely wonderful time, when you feel like you’re saving the world with your favorite people in it. But—” She sighs, adjusts her hand in Beau’s. “After a while, it becomes too easy to lose those who are dear to you. There’s comfort in settling.”

“I can handle loss,” Beau scoffs. “I’ve kind of been preparing for it my whole life. I know this is gonna end sometime.” She squares her shoulders and digs into Trinket’s chest. “I’m always ready for it.”

“Are you?” Vex prompts softly. “Loss is not just leaving, dear.”

Beau looks down, squeezes her knee with her free hand. She feels the long scar on her chest twist as she squirms, thinks of how similar it might be to Molly’s if he were still here.

“I know,” she whispers. “We lost someone that way.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Beau swipes at her nose with her free hand, shakes her head. “It was a while ago, you know; I changed and now it’s over. Don’t need to dwell on the sad things all the time, right?”

“Of course not, but. They’re worth considering, I think; worth trying to find ways to avoid.”

“Right, that’s—” what adventuring is, she wants to say. But it feels like a trap.

“What would you do,” Vex asks carefully, “if we couldn’t heal Jester?”

Beau sucks in a sharp breath. She’s seconds away from crumbling, only this time she doesn’t have a warm blue hand at her back to calm her. “Don’t—say that,” she stammers. “Pike brought so many healers and you’re all powerful and we have Caduceus and Caleb—”

Vex lets go of Beau’s hand to wrap an arm around her. “I’m not trying to upset you, darling,” she placates. “But you’re not adventuring now, and you might not be for a while. Perhaps this could be a time to think—to prepare for other things, whatever they might be.”

Beau lets herself fall against Vex, rest her head on Vex’s shoulder.

“I know how you’re feeling; I almost lost Percy once. Well,” she clarifies, “more than once. But it was the first time that really mattered.” She moves her hand to comb through Beau’s hair, part it off to one side rather than let it hang. “It’s hard to think that anything good might come of this. But I promise it’s not impossible.”

Beau nods, shivers as a breeze blows across her arms. She closes her eyes and sinks into the nearness of Vex and the softness of her huge fucking bear-friend.

“Nicodranas is really nice,” she mumbles. “Have you ever seen the ocean?”

“And traveled it,” Vex confirms. “I could tell you more than a few stories.”

Beau falls asleep halfway into the first one, dreaming of beaches and laughter so resonant it sounds like a song.

/

A bone-shattering reverberation wakes her sometime later, when the sun is low and wide in the sky.

“Wh’s happnin’?” she grumbles.

“I’m not sure,” Vex answers, gently lifting Beau by her arm. “Trinket, could you…?”

Beau hears him huff in response, bending down and nudging Beau’s back until she clambers onto his. Vex slides in behind her as Trinket pushes toward the castle at a pace that probably constitutes a run for him.

Beau rubs her eyes and stares at the giant pillar of light rising from one of the smaller towers, definitely the one that her room is in.

“Vex…”

“I’m sure everything is fine,” she replies immediately, but she sounds distracted. She reaches in front of Beau to give Trinket an encouraging pat on his shoulder.

It’s not a long trip, even if Trinket is slower than Beau would like. Truthfully, anything slower than a Teleport is too slow. She follows Vex’s lead of a brisk walk as they’re deposited in front of the main gates, even though every muscle in her legs is screaming to sprint. She’s faster than Vex, vaulting up the stairs and using the railings basically as springboards.

It’s no wonder that everyone in the room looks at her like she has three heads when she flings open the door.

“What,” she says, in between large, gasping breaths, “the fuck?”

“No reason to be alarmed!” Pike says, raising her hands and stepping in front of the bed. Jester is still unconscious, though the column of light is gone. “We were just, um, testing something.”

“Okay. Did it help?”

“It didn’t hurt her,” Caleb answers diplomatically. Beau crosses her arms and glares at him as hard as she can.

“It seems there are a few spells or effects afflicting Jester,” Caduceus adds. His low, ambling voice is doing more to calm Beau than she would have thought. “We’ve had a bit of an idea that we could use your help for.”

“I will do literally anything.”

Caduceus smiles, serene and supportive. “That’s good.” He leans on his staff as he cracks his back. “Jester’s body is still healing, but her mind, her spirit—there are a lot of names for it, actually; I’m not sure which is your preferred term—”

“Caduceus!”

“Right, sorry.” His ears flop as he shakes his head. “Her spirit is somewhere else. We’re not sure where, but we think”—he holds up his hands to quell Beau’s spluttered protests—“we think she might be stuck on a transitive plane of existence.”

“He banished her soul?” Beau blurts.

“Not...it’s a matter of semantics, I guess,” Caduceus frowns.

Caleb is quick to step in. “Jester’s consciousness is not on this plane of existence,” he says softly, “but neither is it gone completely. We were, ah, wondering if perhaps Caduceus could cast that spell on you again, the one that lets you see beyond the limits of the physical world.”

“That trippy one?” Caleb nods. “Fuck yeah, cast it on me fifty times if you have to. Can we, like, keep switching up the plane it lets me see?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Caleb answers. “It is limited to the Ethereal Plane only.”

“Damn.” Beau shrugs, scratching at the back of her neck. “Okay, well, let’s do this.”

“You do not want to wait?”

“After three days? You couldn’t pay me enough.”

“Ja, okay. Okay.” He smiles at her, just a little, and steps back to let Caduceus in.

Caduceus seems more careful than he did the last time, perhaps because of how the spell had ended up affecting her. He crushes a few ingredients in a small bowl and looks up at her with a beatific grin.

“You’re ready for it this time,” he says calmly.

Beau nods and takes a deep breath. “Yeah. Hit me.” She rolls her eyes as confusion washes over Caduceus’s face. “Not—don’t actually—let’s just do this, man.”

“Okay.” He scoops up the paste in his fingers, dividing it evenly between his hands. It’s cold and a little lumpy as he rubs it in three circles on her face, one between her eyes and two on her temples. Beau’s skin tingles, crescendoing to an itch as he mutters a spell.

She can feel the trip from last time as she teeters on the edge of losing control. The urge is there, at the corners of her mind, but she pulls it back and focuses on making good use of this opportunity.

She opens her eyes and scans around the room, unable to suppress a laugh at the way the hazy ghost fish swirl around her head.

“Are you okay, Beauregard?”

“Yep.” She takes another deep breath. “Totally great, not as freaked out as last time.”

“Okay.” Caleb bends to study her eyes, checking for himself. “Well, can you see her? Do you think we should start walking around the castle?”

Beau blinks, her eyes heavy and slow in her head. “I think everyone should leave, actually.”

“What? Everyone?”

Beau looks around at their cluster of helpers. “Pike can stay.” She shrugs, then shakes her head. “Sorry. Pike, can you stay?”

“Of course,” Pike nods. “It’s okay,” she says, directing her attention to everyone else. They file out after a few moments of hesitation, Caleb at the rear.

“You’re fine?” he asks, one hand on the doorframe.

“Promise,” Beau insists. She tries to nod but her head feels like it’s made of iron.

“Okay.”

Pike closes the door quietly behind him, and Beau turns around.

She looks at the other side of the bed, the one where she would be sleeping if she really slept these days. Her voice, when it comes, is barely a whisper.

“Hey, Jes.”

//

iii.

.

Jester doesn’t make any imprint on the bed, even though she’s sitting on it. Her tail is going crazy against the pillows and Beau can hear it thumping, can see the imprints it leaves in the soft down. But the imprints are hazy and tinged with blue, and the fabric doesn’t actually move.

“Can you see me?” Jester asks tearfully.

Beau turns to Pike. “Did you hear that?”

Pike shakes her head slowly. “You can see her, though?” Beau looks at Jester and nods. “Maybe you should sit down,” Pike suggests.

“Beau.”

“No, I’m too amped. You take the chair though, I wanna—it’s good that you’re here.” She flicks the tips of her fingers together. “Sorry I keep telling you what to do.”

“Beau…”

Pike squeezes Beau’s hand. “It’s okay, Beau. I’m not taking it that way.” She hoists herself into the loveseat and sinks into it, her feet just hanging over the edge of the cushion. “I’ll be here the whole time.”

“Beauuuuu…”

Beau finally turns to Jester and tries to make her smile seem as normal and not-sad as she possibly can. “Jeez, Jes; gimme a sec, will you?”

Jester rolls her eyes. “I’ve been so bored for, like, two whole days! I’ve given you so many seconds.”

“Sure, my bad.”

Jester gets up from the bed and walks close to Beau, peering at her face and eyes. “You don’t look as fucked up as you did last time,” she determines, “but you’re kind of fuzzy at the edges.” She holds her arm out and reaches down to pull Beau’s into a similar position. Her fingers pass right through Beau’s wrist.

“Oh.” Tears well up in Jester’s eyes and she immediately deflates. “Well, that sucks.”

Beau holds up her arm next to Jester’s anyway, close enough that they would be able to feel each other if Jester weren’t a ghost or whatever.

“It’s cool, Jes.” She clears her throat. “It’s good—god—how do you feel?”

“Weeeelll, you know, mostly fine, just—” She gestures to her transparent, ethereal body.

“Yeah, that’s a trip,” Beau says, circling around Jester. “We’ve got people working on how to fix it, though.”

“I know, I saw.” Jester reaches out again but stops herself, remembering that they can’t touch. She looks between their bodies and wraps her tail around Beau’s forearm anyway.

Perhaps Beau’s memory is just that strong, or maybe they’ve done this enough in real life, but—Beau swears she can feel it.

“Thank you for staying,” Jester murmurs. “I’m sorry that you’ve been so worried.”

“Fuck, you don’t ever have to apologize, Jessie. This is all Trent’s fault.”

“Sure.”

Beau scratches at the back of her neck, taking a moment to focus her gaze and try to repel the fish floating past her eyes. She tries so hard that she sways on her feet a little, and Jester instinctively reaches out to try to catch her.

Beau holds out a steadying arm, widens her feet and regains her balance. “I got it, I got it.” She smiles up at Jester, really takes a minute to look at her—she doesn’t look tired or sad (except for the tears); Beau can’t see a trace of the last few months on her, the exhaustion and occasional futility of trying to fix other people’s problems. Jester looks like a smoother version of herself, more like she did the first time they met.

She isn’t the Jester Beau loves, at least not all of her, but it’s nice to see her without any burdens.

Beau will work as hard as she can to make sure this Jester gets a chance to come back.

“I know I don’t have anything on my face, Beau; what are you looking at?”

Beau shakes out of her thoughts and feels tears well up in her own eyes, though she smiles to put Jester at ease. “Sorry,” she whispers, swiping them away. “Just, you know, I think the past couple of days are catching up with me and I, uh—”

She jumps at the hand on the small of her back. “Beau,” Pike interrupts, “maybe you should sit down.”

“Yeah, sure.” She lets Pike lead her to the loveseat; Jester follows and sits next to her.

Beau starts crying in earnest. It’s definitely the drugs.

“Did you want me to stay for a reason?” Pike asks.

“Oh.” Beau wipes her nose on the back of her arm. “Fuck, sorry, yeah. Can you—I don’t know if you can, like, sense anything when Jester talks or something, about—like, is there a connection between her mind and her body—I mean I know there is, all the time, but like specifically now, is that something we can do anything about, or—”

Pike rests a hand on Beau’s wrist. “Let me take a look,” she soothes.

Jester props her head on her fist and rests her elbow on the arm of the chair. “What’s she looking for?”

“I dunno, Jes, but Pike’s a super powerful cleric. Maybe she’ll find something.” Pike waves a hand in appreciation as she peers down to look at Jester’s body.

“Maybe,” Jester says, though she sounds skeptical. “She seems nice.”

“Yeah.”

“Beauuuu, don’t you think she seems nice?”

“Of course, Jes, but I’m not gonna talk about her when she’s right here and literally examining your unconscious body.”

“Oh, that’s okay!” Pike says brightly. “You and I can talk about Jester, if you want.”

Jester gasps. “What would you talk about? Does Pike know things about me?”

“Of course not.”

Pike shrugs. “Okay, that’s fine. But keep talking to Jester; I know you’ve missed her.”

“No, that’s—I was talking to Jester—” She’s too high for this. “I’m too high for this.”

“That’s alright,” Pike reassures. “Can you—” Pike cuts herself off and looks vaguely at the space next to Beau on the chair. She’s looking about six inches too far to the left, but Jester leans until the angle is right. Not that Pike would know.

“Jester,” she continues, “can you help me try out a few things?”

“Sure!” Jester chirps.

Beau repeats that with considerably less enthusiasm.

“Great. I don’t know what your relationship with your god is,” Pike says as she kneels next to the bed, “but mine...I kind of just do what I think she’d like and if she doesn’t, she’ll tell me. So I haven’t had any kind of formal cleric training, but I have noticed a few things over the years.” She straightens Jester’s skirt and beckons for them to come closer.

“Sometimes,” Pike continues, “people look blurry to me when they’re badly injured or affected by a spell, kind of like when the sun is so hot it makes the air move. If I can heal them, their edges coalesce. I was thinking that maybe I might see something similar if you touched your body.”

Beau can’t help grinning at Jester’s immediate smirk.

Pike smiles, too. “That came out a little wrong. I just meant—oh!”

Beau can almost, almost see what Pike’s talking about as Jester touches her own hand—there’s a shimmering, a spark of something for just a second. It flashes a radiant pink and Beau feels an unexpected lump in her throat. Suddenly she misses those goddamn hamster unicorns.

“Oh, I definitely felt something,” Jester says, flexing her fingers. “I’m all tingly now.”

“Have you tried that before?” Beau asks.

“Duh, of course. But that never happened before; maybe having another cleric here makes a difference.”

Pike looks up to Beau. “Did that do anything for her?” Jester scoots down to the end of the bed and snorts.

Beau glares and decides not to mention it. “Yeah,” she answers. “She said she felt a tingle.”

“That’s encouraging.”

Jester puts her ghost-hand through her real hand a few times and Beau gets dizzy from watching all the almost-sparks. She can see them more clearly the faster Jester moves, but it’s like trying to watch a swarm of fireflies, and it sends her eyes spinning.

“Jes,” she says, putting out her hand. “You gotta stop that.”

Jester looks at Beau and notices how large her pupils are. “Oh. Sorry. I have an idea though, of something we could do.”

Hi Pike, this is Jester. You look very pretty and thank you so much for helping me, and I’m sorry that I can’t hug you.

Beau isn’t sure where to look as Jester attempts a Sending spell: at Jester, who is cocking her head and scrunching her nose the way she always does with this spell, and Beau didn’t realize how much she’d missed that; or at Pike, who goes still immediately and glances quickly between Beau and where Pike thinks Jester is, which still isn’t anywhere near spirit-Jester.

Pike shakes her head when Jester stops speaking, blinks very quickly as she silently mouths a few words. Beau can see her fingers twitch in a count before she replies.

“Good to hear from you, Jester,” Pike says slowly, still counting. “I’m glad I can help, even if it’s just a little. I know this spell too, for the future.”

You don’t have to use spells to talk to me, I can hear you! This will probably make it easier for Beau though.

“It sure fuckin’ would make it easier for me,” Beau grumbles. “Jes, maybe we should have Cad cast True Seeing on Pike next time, since she’s the cleric and all.”

“Hey,” Jester scoffs. “I’m a cleric, too. In fact, I seem to remember you telling me once that I was the cleric.”

“I mean, you are, but also you’re—” Beau catches Pike looking at her curiously and turns away to hide a blush. “We need a better system, is all I’m saying.”

“What if I use Sending whenever I need an answer from Jester, and otherwise I can just talk out loud like normal?” Pike suggests.

Jester nods, but Pike doesn’t react. It’s a better idea, but still flawed.

“She’s nodding,” Beau explains after a minute of watching Jester and realizing Pike still can’t see her. It’s a shame—she’s missing a good show, what with how fuzzy and blue Jester looks and all the ethereal fish floating around her. Beau wonders if Jester can see those, too; she reaches out and tries to corral a few of them together, pushes them in a group toward Jester’s eyes.

“Okay, I assume you’re doing something because of that spell that I just can’t see…” Pike says.

“It’s super important, I promise,” Beau replies, concentration never leaving the fish.

Jester frowns. “It’s super not.” She cranes her head and sends Pike another message. “It’s super not!” she basically yells.

Pike, to her credit, only jumps a little.

“Jes, quit it,” Beau admonishes. She swats a scolding hand toward Jester and inadvertently scatters her school of fish. “Ah, fuck. I was so close.”

“To doing...what….” Jester chuckles.

But Beau is saved any explanation by a knock on the door. To be honest it almost sounds like someone is trying to break down the door, and the only possible reason they haven’t is that Percy must have had the wood reinforced. Which, Beau supposes, makes a certain amount of sense—he and Vex are very important people in Tal’Dorei. Then again, this is just a conference room.

Beau guides another fish back into the group.

“I know that knock!” Pike gasps excitedly. “Beau, Jester, do you mind if I—”

Beau is too preoccupied to answer and Jester couldn’t if she tried. Pike graciously waits longer than Beau would have before opening the door.

“Pike!”

The loudest, deepest voice Beau has ever heard booms out a greeting and it’s no exaggeration to say Beau almost shits herself. The reverberations of Pike’s name seem to ripple out even longer under the effects of the spell. Beau twists a finger in her ear and ignores the way Jester starts to gently laugh at her.

More important right now is the fact that Pike seems to have disappeared somewhere in the arms of a man who could make Bluud look small. He’s big and grey and he keeps being big and grey as Beau cranes her neck to look at the whole of him.

Suddenly, she’s on the ground and Jester is leaning over her; her hair would be touching Beau’s face if she weren’t a ghost.

“Beauuuuuu...are you okay?”

“That dude is fucking huge,” is all Beau says.

“Thanks!” the man in question says. Beau blinks and suddenly Pike is on his shoulders; her wide smile makes her look considerably younger. “Sorry if I’m interruptin’ somethin’.”

“It’s okay, Grog!” Pike reassures quickly. “This is Beau, by the way.”

“Sup.” Beau raises a hand in a wave and just kind of leaves it there. Seconds later, she’s pulled to her feet by a very strong hand with a surprisingly gentle grip.

Grog rests what he can of his hand on her shoulder to steady her. “Alright?”

Beau puts her hands on her hips and exhales slowly a few times. “It’s been a weird day.”

“I feel that,” Grog says. “Lots of my days are weird.”

“Sure. Yep.”

“Beau, I know you only have so long with that spell. Do you want to stay here with Jester and I can…”

“You probably weren’t gonna do much today anyway, right?” Beau shakes her head at the way Pike’s smile falters for a little. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—just, today was fact-finding. And we did that, so. Go catch up, or whatever; I heard Varon’s cooking up something special in the kitchen.”

Pike barely has time to yell her thanks before Grog is running back into the hallway, cheering about something that sounds a lot like ‘profiterole’.

“I hope he’s not expecting cream puffs because that is definitely not what Varon was making,” Beau mumbles.

“I thought he said bowl-kibble-poo. Which doesn’t sound like anything, but if it did it would be super gross.” Jester sits on the bed at the feet of her body and pats the empty space for Beau to join her.

Beau hesitates. “I dunno, Jes; you don’t think that’s wrong or weird or something?”

“I want to try something,” she says instead of answering.

Beau, because it’s Jester, acquiesces. She plants herself on the very edge of the bed, as far away from physical-Jester as she can get.

“By the way,” Jester adds, a little brighter, “you don’t need to keep bringing pastries up. It’s very sweet, Beau, but obviously I can’t eat them.”

“I know, it’s just—I dunno what else to do. I hate feeling useless.”

“Beau, you’re not useless. You’re trying so hard to help me.”

Beau scoots back until she can lean against a few pillows. “Yeah, I guess.” She pulls her knees up to her chest and rests her elbows on top of them. “What did you want to try?”

“Scoot over.” Jester waves her closer, her gesture more and more emphatic the longer Beau waits. Eventually, she can resist no longer, and she inches closer to Jester’s body, as close as she can get without touching her.

The Jester who exists in the Ethereal Plane moves to sit on top of her physical body, leaning back to align herself properly. “Okay, well, this is weird,” she frowns, “but I want to try it anyway.”

“I thought you already had.”

“Duh, like, so many times. But I don’t know, today feels different.” She stretches out her spirit-legs to match her physical ones. “When I lay down, will you hold my hand? Like, my real one.”

Beau pauses for a moment—not to refuse, but to prepare. “Yeah, sure,” she replies quietly. “Here, why don’t I—” She inhales deeply and takes Jester’s hand, squeezing a little harder just in case she can feel it. “Go ahead.”

Jester adjusts herself one more time, then leans back until she’s lying flat inside her own body. Beau watches her the whole time, her eyes following the line of Jester’s arms as they settle inside themselves. When Jester curls her fingers to mimic the shape of her hands, Beau squeezes again.

“Anything?”

“I don’t feel any different,” Jester huffs. Her spirit-legs kick up but her physical ones stay still. “Are you touching me?”

“Yep, holding your hand just like you asked.”

“How does it feel?”

“I dunno.” Beau takes a moment to answer thoughtfully because Jester deserves it. “Like your hand usually does? Maybe a little colder than usual.”

Jester wiggles her spirit-head, digging deeper into pillows that don’t move. “I don’t want to look just in case me being like this is actually gonna do anything but could you, like, I don’t know, describe what you’re doing? Is that weird?”

“A little weird,” Beau concedes, “but I can do it.” Beau picks up Jester’s hand and tries not to focus on the ephemeral one that stays behind. She clears her throat. “Okay, well, I’m picking up your right hand with my left. Your skin feels...you know that feeling when your leg falls asleep and you go to poke it but it only sort of registers? It feels kind of like that, like it’s missing something important.” Beau picks Jester’s hand up and turns it over, smoothing the skin of her palm. “You’ve still got little scrapes from the fight on the inside; I’m trying not to press on them too hard but I guess it wouldn’t really matter.” Beau touches each of Jester’s fingertips individually, giving Jester ample time between each just in case it sparks something. “I just touched the tips of your fingers,” Beau whispers. “Still feel like fingers.”

Beau very deliberately uses her other hand to wipe away a few stray tears.

“Beau…”

Beau sniffs, composes herself before she turns to look at Jester. “Yep.” She sniffs again. “Hey.”

“Beau.” Jester is sitting up now, her mission to reunite her selves presumably paused. “Can you pick up my hand?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“And then, you know—” She mimes putting it on her cheek. “But on you.”

“Jes—”

“Please, Beau.”

Beau sighs and does it, nestling her cheek in the curve of Jester’s hand. She rearranges Jester’s fingers until they feel somewhat natural, until she can close her eyes and pretend to feel the life pulsing through them that is, instead, unsettlingly dormant.

They sit this way until the spell ends.

Afterward, Beau sleeps.

//

iv.

.

The worst part about existing outside of her body, Jester learns, is that there are still rules.

Maybe it’s something she can talk to the Traveler about, when her friends figure out how to put her back. She’s not dead but also she can’t talk to anyone, not even the god she worships, and it’s so boring.

She’s not as fast as the rest of the group so she makes it to this manor a few minutes after they do, which is probably good because nobody needs to watch one of their best friends carrying their recently-dead body. The forest is pretty and Jester hopes they have time to take a vacation once she’s healed and linger here for a while. She deserves to pet all the squirrels and woodland animals she’s been able to observe but not touch on her walk back toward the castle.

It’s only when she gets to the massive doors that Jester thinks she might have a problem.

Try as she might, she can’t get her body through the heavy wood, even though she’s not really made of anything and she should be able to pass through. She adds this to her list of things to address once she’s back in her body. Caleb will probably be more than happy to research the mechanics of whatever plane she’s on.

Jester tries going through a few different points on the outside of the building but nothing lets her in. She jumps, hoping that maybe this plane isn’t restricted by gravity, but that doesn’t work either. It isn’t until another patrol leaves the castle half an hour later that Jester is finally able to get inside. She darts through quickly even though the door is wide open, not wanting to miss her chance.

Just for giggles, as soon as she’s inside, she tries to go through the closed door again. This time it works.

Jester tips her head back and groans dramatically. “That’s duuuumb.”

No one around her reacts, which is also dumb.

The rules of her current existence, she learns over the next three days, go like this:

She can’t move up and down, even though it would be so fun if she could.

She can’t move through doors or walls into a room she’s never seen before, but:

Once someone opens a door and she goes into a room, she can move in and out of it through any solid barrier, anytime she wants.

Jester spends most of the next few days exploring because sitting with Beau in their room would be too sad.

There are so many rooms in this castle, though most of them are empty bedrooms. Jester spends a lot of time wandering the corridors, looking at the portraits that line their walls. Most of the people depicted look very stuffy and serious, but there is a mischievous glint to the portraits of the current residents. The kids look happy and their parents look tired, which Jester has always found is the secret to a close-knit family. She sees that reflected in their real-life counterparts, as the younger ones run around and elude their siblings and parents.

Jester misses her momma very much.

There is one room that remains locked to Jester for a few days, one that she doesn’t gain entry to until she specifically camps outside of it and waits for someone to open the door. It’s flung open in the late hours of the night, wisps of smoke curling around the legs that fumble heavily over the threshold.

Jester is rewarded for her quick movement, as this time the door starts closing very quickly.

She’s very glad she has dark vision when she gets inside, otherwise it would be impossible to see anything. There are no torches burning, and for good reason—Jester can’t see any in reach, but the whole room smells like black powder. An errant torch in here might take out the whole castle.

Mostly what she can see, when her eyes finally adjust, are piles and piles of gears. Gears and screws and thin metal pieces. What she had originally thought would be a treasure trove for Veth instead reminds Jester of Beau and her old jeweler’s kit. Jester lets that sit in the back of her mind, wonders if maybe there’s a way she can maneuver Beau down here so she doesn’t get too sad waiting.

Jester spends the better part of the next twenty minutes putting her arms in and out of precarious piles, and giggling at the way nothing topples over.

She visits Percy’s workshop a few more times in the ensuing days, and she’s even in there when Pike shows up. Jester jumps as much as Percy does when Pike attempts her first healing spell—she doesn’t see the massive pillar of blue light but god, the noise it lets out—and that’s all she gets to see of his reaction before she’s transported back to the room with her body.

It’s not quite a teleport but it’s not not a teleport—Jester doesn’t feel any of the collapsing, blinking sensation she does when Caleb casts his spell, but she is in her room one moment the same way she used to be in Percy’s.

Caduceus, Caleb, and Pike are all standing around her body, hair waving slightly as if there had recently been a medium-sized explosion.

“You guys,” Jester huffs, even though she knows they can’t hear her. “What the fuck.”

For a second—just a second—Caduceus’s ears perk up.

“Caduceus?” Jester tries again. “Caduceus, can you hear me??”

But he doesn’t respond and Caleb is speaking urgently with Pike, his voice hushed and extra Zemnian the way it gets when he’s excited.

“Something should have happened, ja?” He nervously pulls his hair back from his head. “Something more than the boom, I mean.”

“Something should have, yes,” Pike confirms. “But it almost feels like there’s a block between Jester’s body and her mind.”

“Before Beau bursts in here and yells at us too much, did whatever just happened hurt Jester?”

“No, of course not,” Pike reassures. “It was just a healing spell. The problem is that healing spells rely on some kind of cohesion between the body and the spirit. Right now it seems like Jester is...separated.”

“That seems ominous,” Caleb mutters.

“No shit,” Jester adds, just for her own benefit. It seems like Caduceus’s momentary awareness was just that.

“It’s not that bad,” Pike gently corrects. “I mean, it’s definitely not ideal, but it could be a lot worse. I actually have something you can help me with, if you want.”

“Of course, anything.”

They both cast Detect Magic on Jester’s body; the aura from Caleb’s spell is smaller than Pike’s and a little dimmer. Still, Jester appreciates the effort, and the combination of the shimmering white from Pike’s spell and Caleb’s muted orange is lovely to look at.

“What do you see?” Pike asks.

“Probably less than you,” Caleb quips. He clarifies immediately with a gentle smile. “Lingering effects from three spells,” he explains, pointing, “though one is mostly faded.”

“That’s about what I see,” Pike confirms. “But I think I can see a few more tangles than you can, and the way everything overlaps concerns me. We might have to undo all of this one at a time rather than together.”

Caleb points to a particularly shiny point near the top of Jester’s head. “Does this look strange to you?”

Pike steps closer, though she doesn’t have to bend as much as Caleb to get a good look. “Maybe a little—” She passes her hand through the white light which, to Jester’s surprise, seems to put up some resistance. “It reminds me of auras people give off after interplanar travel.”

“Have you done much yourself?”

Pike smiles fondly. “More than you’d think.”

“If Jester’s mind has been separated from her body,” Caduceus drawls from the corner, surprising everyone, “we might be able to find out where it is, at the very least.”

Caleb is about to ask a question but Beau chooses that moment to burst through the door. Jester instinctively moves out of her way.

“What,” Beau pants, “the fuck?”

Three words and Jester’s on the verge of tears. She hasn’t been spending time with Beau in their room because Beau is sad and quiet and that’s not Jester’s Beau; that silent, sullen presence isn’t anything like her brash and insistent best friend. But here she is, animated and pushy again, desperate in the way she gets when one of their group is in danger. Jester blinks back a few tears and settles next to herself on the bed.

Jester listens to her three sleuths explain the situation to Beau, and when Caduceus casts his spell on her, Jester is ready to greet Beau with a wide, calming smile.

/

Their options open up after that, or so Jester can surmise from the conversations she eavesdrops on. Once Allura shows up, dragging even more clerics with her, the amount of high-level magic users at their disposal means that someone always has True Seeing cast on them, possibly more than one person.

(One of them is always Beau).

It’s a little frustrating that even with all these powerful wizards and clerics, they haven’t yet figured out a single spell to fix her. Jester doesn’t complain about it, of course, but she definitely thinks it. It’s slow-going, just like Pike predicted—Trent’s magic was weird and tricky, and even though Pike seems to be the fastest at unraveling it, she’s still only one cleric. Apparently Jester’s spirit is very tangled and confused, which feels very appropriate, given the circumstances.

“Hey.”

Beau has gotten better about not reaching out to touch Jester anymore. Not that Jester wouldn’t want her to, but it’s just so sad when she does and obviously she can’t. Having this downtime, even given the circumstances...Jester has learned that sometimes, looking truly can be enough.

(And other times, like now, Jester notices a crumb near the corner of Beau’s mouth and itches to flick it away.)

“I know we keep checking in on you, but you’re really okay? You don’t need us to, like, kick it up a gear and fix you tomorrow?”

Jester shrugs. “I mean, I don’t want to stay like this forever, Beau, but I’m okay, really. I know everyone is working so hard to help me and that’s enough. Plus it’s fun to mess with everyone while I’m still technically invisible.”

Beau laughs and scratches at her cheek. “I bet. This is basically your ideal pranking situation, huh?”

“Mhm.”

Jester still hasn’t told Beau yet the rules about her current state, even though it might be helpful to. It feels kind of nice, to have one solid piece of knowledge that no one else has an opinion about. She cocks her head and thinks about it—maybe if she did tell Beau, she could find a way to open the rest of the castle rooms that Jester hasn’t gotten to yet…

“So, Pike and Allura had an idea.”

Jester turns her head to face Beau, smiling at her familiar tired, freckled cheeks. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. There’s a spell that either of them can cast that would allow people to exist on the Ethereal Plane for eight hours.”

“Oh! Can they cast it on me and, like, I don’t know, reverse whatever Trent did?”

Beau shakes her head. “Doesn’t work like that, I asked. But they’re powerful enough that they can cast it on a few people at a time. I think Allura said up to six extra, if they do it right.”

“Six people? That’s so many.”

“Yeah, well.” Beau shrugs. “It might speed things up, if there were clerics working on both sides of this thing, you know? You can, um, you can interact with things on the Ethereal Plane. As part of the spell, I mean.”

Jester’s hand twitches forward involuntarily. “Clerics, huh.”

“Clerics, wizards.” Beau turns her eyes up to Jester’s; her mouth, perpetually smirking, falls into a serious line. “Best friends,” she whispers.

Jester wraps her tail around Beau’s ankle, sadness be damned. “Best friends,” she repeats.

“Yeah.”

Jester takes one more look at her tail on Beau’s leg and closes her eyes. She squeezes them shut, remembers the feeling of her smooth tail on Beau’s skin, bumpy with scrapes and welts but firm and strong, a steady heartbeat thrumming beneath honed muscle. Beau is always warm and Jester has learned that has as much to do with her personality as it does how much she works out.

“Maybe,” she murmurs, keeping her eyes shut, “maybe we can just start with one person. Have Allura cast it on Pike tomorrow, just to make sure that it’s actually useful.”

Jester creaks one eye open, glancing curiously at Beau.

She would feel better, Jester thinks, if Beau looked even a little disappointed.

But she smiles instead, nods and breathes deeply. “Yeah, absolutely. That makes a bunch of sense.” Beau stretches her arms, playfully sticking her right arm through Jester’s transparent head, wiggling her fingers as they stick out of Jester’s ears. “I think there’s about forty minutes left on this spell. You wanna talk about anything?”

“No, thank you.”

“‘Kay.”

/

Pike knocks on the door to their room relatively early the next day, which is very nice if not a little unnecessary. Jester hasn’t slept since Trent because she doesn’t really need it, and Beau hasn’t slept because…

Jester doesn’t actually know why Beau hasn’t slept. She could guess, or ask, but the idea of that kind of question sets her heart beating fast, even in its ephemeral state.

Anyway. Pike knocks on the door and Jester watches impatiently as Beau answers it. She jumps up from the loveseat in that restless Beau way she has, jogging toward the door even though Jester knows Pike isn’t in any rush.

“Hey.” Beau opens the door wide as Pike walks in. Jester waves, invisibly. “Thanks for coming over so early.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem; I was up already anyway.”

“Sure,” Beau nods, “cleric stuff, right?”

“Yep.”

“If you ever wanna start your morning with some exercise instead of prayer, I have a pretty rigorous workout routine.”

“I’m not sure I could keep up with you; it’s been a few years since I’ve done any kind of adventuring.”

“I dunno.” Beau pauses to appraise Pike. “You look pretty strong.”

“Oh my god,” Jester huffs. “Beau, she’s married!” she yells. It’s kind of cathartic, to say everything she wants even though no one can hear her. Jester is going to have an even bigger problem with volume control when she gets back to her body.

“I can feel you rolling your eyes, Jes,” Beau smirks, and Jester shuts up instinctually.

“I am pretty strong,” Pike says, chuckling gently. “I might take you up on that sometime.”

“Yeah, dope.” Beau yawns and scratches at the back of her head. “Do you, I dunno, need to prep anything or do like a ritual or…?”

Pike shakes her head. “Just an incantation and a few fancy gestures and I’m good to go.”

“How will we know if it worked?”

“If you can’t see me anymore, it definitely worked.”

“I can also tell you,” Jester adds. She huffs and then pulls out the ethereal piece of copper she luckily had in her pocket when Trent hit her with his spell. “I can also tell you,” she repeats, sending Beau a message.

Beau flinches back like she’s been struck. “God, Jes!” She wiggles a finger in her left ear. “It’s so early and you’re so loud. Thanks, though.”

Jester giggles and settles on the bed, trying not to bounce her tail too much as she waits for Pike to cast her spell. She watches and wonders if there’s one set of words and gestures for everyone who casts it or if this is just Pike’s particular brand of magic. She’s not too graceful about it—Jester has overheard stories about Pike clanking around in plate armor in her younger days, and sometimes she moves like she still wears it. But there’s a confidence to her motions, a certainty to the flow even if it isn’t fluid. Jester watches with wide eyes as Pike’s form shimmers and fades, not to a translucent blue like she is, but a wispy silver, glimmering white at the edges.

Pike hasn’t moved by the time she finishes speaking, but Beau looks around the room as if trying to find her.

“Woah. Okay. Success, then?”

Pike and Jester lock eyes and, silently, agree to message Beau at the same time.

Her ensuing yell wakes up at least one de Rolo kid.

“Cool, great, you guys both suck. I’ll be around when you’re done; message me if anything goes wrong.” Beau lingers for a moment more—she opens her mouth as if to say something else, but shakes her head and decides against it, jogging out of the room.

“Hi—”

“Oh my gosh, Pike!” Jester scoops her up in a hug before Pike has the chance to say anything. “I know I’m not fixed yet but thank you so much for everything you’re doing and for being here; it is so nice to, like, touch someone. I thought I was maybe going crazy for a second there.”

“You’re welcome, Jester,” Pike laughs. She gently extricates herself from Jester’s arms. “I have to say...I don’t really have a plan to heal you from this side of things. I just thought it might be kind of helpful.”

“Oh, totally. Even if it doesn’t fix everything, it’s, like—people by themselves are helpful, you know? I mean, I grew up very isolated so I can definitely handle myself but I guess...I’ve gotten used to not having to do that ever since we became a group.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Pike puts her hands on her hips and turns in a circle, stopping as she catches sight of Jester’s body on the bed. Jester knows how it looks, how everything that doesn’t exist on the Ethereal Plane is kind of greyed out and seems far away even if it’s right next to them. “Well, that’s weird.”

Jester expels a huge breath. “Yeah, I try not to think about it too much. I’m not usually even in the room, really; I’ve found some super cool places exploring this castle. You’ve probably seen them all though.”

Pike smiles, gentle and wide and kind and everything Jester tries to be for her friends. “But I haven’t seen them with you,” she says.

Jester practically floats.

/

They make it to a few secret spots but Jester feels like they’re wasting the spell the longer they explore, and it’s a pretty powerful spell. She and Pike settle near the kitchen around midday, because there are few things Jester finds as comforting as the smells of cooking food, whatever it is that’s being prepared. Today it smells meaty and tangy, like someone is making a marinade.

Jester sprawls out in the middle of the floor because she’s incorporeal and she can. Pike stretches out next to her.

“You really don’t have any ideas about healing?” Jester asks.

Pike sighs and rustles to get comfortable. “I have a few ideas about helping, but none of them are healing spells specifically.”

Jester turns on her side, resting her hands underneath her head. “What are they?”

Pike turns to mirror her. “Talking, mostly. I know you’re eager to get back to your friends, but maybe there’s a little bit of this separation that you could use to your advantage.”

“Okay!” Jester giggles as her tail bounces behind her. “This feels like a sleepover; like, we’re hidden away from everyone else and we’re about to stay up all night, braiding each other’s hair and talking about boys or something…”

Pike smiles mischievously. “Do you want to talk about boys?”

“Hm, not really,” Jester decides. “But your hair is so long and beautiful; I definitely want to braid it.”

“Absolutely!” Pike sits up and slides to sit between Jester’s legs. “What about girls?”

“What about them?” Jester replies absently as she chunks Pike’s hair into sections.

“Wanna talk about them?”

“Oh.” Jester’s hands still for a moment, then she restarts her ministrations with renewed vigor. “How many braids do you want?” she asks instead.

.

Pike returns the favor eventually and they swap positions, finding Pike a few books to sit on so she has a better angle on Jester’s head. Hours pass and Jester and Pike trade adventuring stories, laughing themselves silly about everything they’ve gotten themselves into with their respective groups of friends. Jester thinks that maybe she’s even close to persuading Pike to get back in it, or at least to find a festival and a low-stakes fight club and join them the next time they decide to have a fun night out.

But the deadline for the spell looms and they walk back to Jester’s body. Jester takes every staircase three steps at a time, relishing in the fact that even if she falls over she won’t fall down the stairs.

On the top of the last staircase, Jester overshoots the landing and crashes into the wall. Just for a moment, she feels a twinge of pain as her shoulder bounces off the corner.

“Hey!” She looks down the hallway and notices two torches flickering from the impact. Jester points at them excitedly. “That hasn’t happened before!”

Pike smiles bashfully, blushing a little. “I’ve been healing you all day,” she admits, fluttering her fingers. “I guess there are certain things I can still be sneaky about.”

“Well, that’s very impressive. I don’t think Artie would let me do magic like that.”

“Artie?”

“Do you not know about the Traveler?” Jester cocks her head and winks. “I thought you were supposed to be, like, the best cleric in the whole world, but you don’t even know the Traveler.”

“Do you know everything about Melora?” Pike counters. “Or the Raven Queen or Kord?”

“Nooo, but I’m also not a super-powerful champion of the Everlight. I’m just a leetle blue tiefling.”

They both close their eyes as they drift through the walls of the room Jester shares with Beau. It seems like Pike puts up a little resistance this time, which must mean that her spell is fading. Jester takes the time waiting for Pike to look over at the bed, where Beau is laying next to Jester’s body, eyes closed and hands clasped over her stomach.

Pike follows her gaze when she finally pushes through.

“I think you’re more than that, Jester,” she says gently.

“Sure,” Jester mutters, barely paying attention. “Are we doing this again tomorrow?”

“And any day until you’re back,” Pike confirms. “Hey, do I sound different to you?” She pokes and prods at her face and body. Jester giggles as Pike stamps her feet against the ground, her legs coming up higher now that she’s back in the physical world again. One ill-timed almost-kick sends her reeling backwards and into the bed, where she bounces off the mattress and tumbles to the floor.

Beau wakes with a start, almost vaulting out of bed; Jester wishes someone was around to hear her laugh.

She laughs for a long time.

//

v.

.

The longer Beau puts off being part of the Ethereal crew, the more disapproving Allura’s looks get. It’s kind of like being scolded by her mother again, except this time the swirl of guilt Beau feels is genuine and not just indigestion.

Her only line of defense is that whatever Pike is doing when she hangs out with Jester doesn’t seem to be sticking. Every so often Beau gets a glimpse of her—the shimmer of a blue foot, or a string of curses as she bumps into a piece of furniture that hasn’t been solid for her for weeks. But when the spell ends, or when they all wake up the next day, they’re right back at square one and any progress they’ve made is washed away.

Beau drops in on Percy in his workshop a few times. She can’t completely read his chicken scratch but she can gather from his blueprints that he’s trying to rig a device that will beam healing spells at Jester constantly so she never has the chance to lose any developments.

“If you’re going to mope in here, at least make yourself useful.”

Percy doesn’t look up from his desk. Any bit of skin not covered by clothes is scattered with grease, streaks snaking up his forearms and beneath his shirt, only to emerge again at his neck. Beau can even see dark spots in his hair, at the edges of his ears where he’s scratched them.

“‘M not moping,” she grumbles petulantly.

“Of course not,” Percy placates. “Hand me that mirror, will you?”

Beau eyes the mirror on the table next to her. “Nah.”

“And why not?”

“You drilled the supports in wrong. It’s gonna fire back on itself when you put the mirror in.”

Percy tilts his contraption from side to side. “No, it isn’t. I’ve built dozens of devices like this before; I know what I’m doing.”

“Okay. I just thought you might wanna know that you’re doing it wrong.”

Beau picks up the mirror and brings it to him anyway, standing in front of his desk with her arms crossed. Percy doesn’t look up, but if he did, he’d find a smirk waiting.

“See, this is—hm.” Percy rests the mirror on the supports instead of installing it completely, projecting a bit of light along the line he’s created. It doubles back, just as Beau predicted. “Oh, you are unpleasant.”

The way he says it reminds Beau of Molly, and she takes a moment to settle into the pleasant ache in her chest.

“I’m sure you have ideas on how to fix it?”

“At least three,” Beau nods.

“Care to share any?”

Beau vaults over tables and piles of parts in her way, throwing a peace sign over her shoulder as she goes. “Later, dude!”

The restless energy carries her through the castle and out one of its side doors that sets her on a path deep into the forest. It’s Allura’s day with Jester and for a second, Beau wonders if they’re out here, if they can leave the castle when they’re on the Ethereal Plane. She slows to a jog as she looks around, scanning the area for Jester (pointless) or maybe Caduceus. He could cast True Seeing on her and then she could at least talk to Jester, if not touch her.

But their tall pink friend isn’t anywhere in eyesight, so Beau continues her route toward the forest. She’s taken to using it as a makeshift gym in her downtime, scaling trees and leaping across branches. There are a few even large enough for her to sit in, where she can practice her meditation and have a few quiet hours free of worrying for Jester.

If those hours happen to consist of constant visualizations of the beach in Nicodranas, Beau doesn’t tell anyone.

Today she simply runs up her favorite tree—the biggest one with the best view of the castle, the one that took her at least a week to find the best route to the top. She skips up it with practiced ease now, nestling into the delta of a few sturdy branches near the top. Beau stretches her hands behind her head and braces one foot against the trunk of the tree. She looks up at the few boughs above her, catches the remainder of the morning dew on the underside of some pine needles.

There is a fluttering of wings and a bird settles on one of the boughs, sending a sprinkling of drops onto Beau’s forehead. She blinks to get it out of her eyes without having to move her hands, blurring her visibility of the bird above. It’s big and black; that’s about all she can tell.

Beau nods up to it anyway, throwing a casual ‘Sup’ in its direction.

She closes her eyes and lets the events of the past couple of weeks mill around in her mind. Nothing really lands and she doesn’t try to focus on any one thing; rather, she lets them drift apart until they cohere together on their own. Memories of Jester swirl together with what she knows about Trent—Beau settles her spirit while her mind works to solve their latest puzzle.

She could talk this over with Caleb but he has enough guilt to deal with. She could also consult Vex or Pike or any of Vox Machina about sneaky ways to beat sneaky wizards. But Beau feels partially responsible for this, for being so gung-ho about helping Caleb take down his former teacher. Obviously, the best thing to do is to put her formidable mind to work and solve everything herself.

When Beau opens her eyes again, the sun is low in the sky and the big black bird is standing over her face, its beak inches away from pecking between her eyes.

Beau pushes down any instinct of fear and doesn’t look away. “Caleb?” she tries. The bird cocks its head, no hint of recognition in its eyes. “No, Caleb’s too chicken to come all the way up here. ‘Scuse the pun.”

“Hel-lo,” the bird squawks. Beau shivers involuntarily; it reminds her of the stilted way Kiri speaks, using a limited number of other people’s words to express her thoughts. But this bird is just a bird, too small to be a kenku.

Beau sits up, careful to avoid hitting the bird, and flips around to lean against the trunk. “You can talk?” she asks.

“Repeat,” the bird replies, clipping the vowel sounds before it can properly say the word. “Can repeat...a few.”

Beau takes a chance, just in case. “You don’t happen to know Kiri, do you?”

The bird cocks its head in a very un-birdlike way. The gesture makes Beau think of Nugget struggling to understand one of Jester’s commands. Beau and the bird look at each other for a few long moments—it looks just like a raven but there’s something about its eyes, something deeper and more intelligent than even the smartest birds Beau has come across.

They’re still looking at each other when the bird starts making a new series of sounds, clicks and rumbles and a few detached notes in a staccato melody. It isn’t a song but it isn’t just noise either. Beau feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and her heart roils in a pang of yearning.

The bird goes silent and cocks its head further, as if waiting for a reply. Beau finds herself drawn in, tilting her own ear to the sky. She leans forward in an effort to hear better and inadvertently shifts their combined weight on the branch. Beau just manages to catch herself from falling but the bird tumbles out of sight. Beau leans over, hoping to grab it before it hurtles too far downward; she even reaches her hand out halfheartedly before she remembers—

Birds can fucking fly.

But there are no traces of the raven or whatever it is, and Beau frowns. She sits back on her heels, absently whistling some of the bird’s song. She whistles and looks up at the sky, watching to see if she can catch it in flight.

It’s not her fault, then, when an arm slings itself over the branch and, catching her off-guard, sends Beau careening off the other side. She hits a few thorns on the way down before wrapping her legs around a thick bough and steadying herself.

A head peers over from above, a curtain of red hair hanging down. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

“What the fuck!” Beau yells back. She secures herself with her legs and adjusts herself, tightening her topknot and brushing burrs and leaves from her shoulders. Beau leans back as far as she can to assess the best way back up top, closing the distance with efficient jumps and well-placed handholds.

Waiting for her back on her original branch is a half-elven woman, teetering as she struggles to balance her slight frame with the massive fucking antlers she wears on her head. She seems like she’s Beau’s age everywhere except the eyes, which look too old to belong to one person.

Beau balances herself near the end of their branch, letting the woman back up to the safer bit near the trunk.

“You picked that up fast,” the woman says.

“What?”

“The song.”

“Huh?” Beau shakes her head, puts an arm out behind her to stabilize herself. “Song? The so—you mean the bird? That...you? Were the bird?”

The woman cocks her head in a gesture so familiar that Beau decides yes, in fact, she was the bird. “Haven’t you ever seen people turn into animals before?”

“Sure,” Beau answers, “they just usually don’t also talk or fall out of trees. You know ravens have wings, right?”

The woman blushes, an exaggerated pink thanks to her fair skin. “It’s been a while,” she admits. “I forgot I could fly.”

“That’s great. Hey, who are you?”

“Oh, I’m—I mean—” She points back at the castle.

Beau catalogs the relevant details—the castle, the antlers, the elven ears and awkward aura she still hasn’t shed even though Vex swears she’s gotten better.

“Got it,” Beau says, cutting off the stammering and incomplete sentences. “Keyleth, right? Everyone’s mentioned you a bunch. I’m staying at the castle,” she offers as an explanation.

Keyleth stops talking and smiles. “Of course you are; why else do you think I flew over here?”

Beau hums and hooks her ankles around the tree. “Sounds like we’re both getting talked about, huh.”

“Guess that’s what happens when people care about you.” Beau doesn’t have anything to say to that that wouldn’t sound super self-pitying, so she simply swallows. “Hey, do you maybe not wanna be in this tree anymore?”

Beau shrugs. “Sure, I’ve been here long enough.” She unfurls herself from the branch and perches above it, looking down at the ground to find her perfect landing spot. Beau turns around, winks at Keyleth as the wind tries valiantly to loose her hair from its bun. “Race you!”

Then she jumps.

It’s an invigorating feeling, to fall knowing she’ll be okay at the bottom. Only halfway down does Beau think that maybe she should have warned Keyleth, just in case her instinct to panic overrode the rational part of her brain that insists that surely anyone who jumps from that high knows they’ll survive the fall.

Beau is momentarily surprised, then, to look over and find Keyleth falling with her.

She gathers herself before she hits the ground, easily tucking into a roll and letting the forest floor slow her down. Before she makes contact, Beau gets a glimpse of Keyleth turning back into a bird, fluttering enough to slow her descent, then turning back into a person and gently landing on her feet.

Druids.

Beau unfurls herself from the ball she’s rolled into, stretching out on the forest floor. Her legs feel like they’re humming the way they always do after she’s worked up enough adrenaline. She hears Keyleth come over before she sees her, feet crunching against dried leaves and sticks.

“Kinda risky,” Keyleth says, leaning over Beau and blocking the sun, “when you can’t turn into something that flies.”

“Kinda risky when you take that long to turn into something that flies,” Beau retorts.

Keyleth laughs, barely a huff of breath. She straightens up again and Beau closes her eyes, catching her breath and waiting for her heart to calm down. A moment later, she feels the shifting of the brush as Keyleth lays down, her head next to Beau’s.

Beau peeks an eye open. “You and your friends seem to be pretty familiar, pretty fast with our ragtag bunch of foreigners.”

“We were that group, once,” Keyleth simply says. “We’re familiar with you because...you feel familiar to us, I guess.”

“Makes sense.” Beau closes her eyes again. “Vex said something like that when we first got here. Nice to think about—for us, I mean.”

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno, that maybe twenty years from now Caleb could have a castle that we all visit a bunch and maybe some idiot adventurers will stumble upon us looking for guidance and some super fucking cool magic.” Beau rustles her hand in the sticks and leaves near her body, looking for something good to fiddle with. “It’s nice to—I dunno. It’s nice to think about being whole, when it feels like we’ve spent our entire time together being broken.”

“We’re not whole,” Keyleth immediately rebuffs. “Or, I mean, we’re still broken? You never...stop...being broken. Wait. This isn’t coming out as uplifting as I wanted it to.”

“You think that was uplifting at all?”

Keyleth scoffs. “I’m really better at this when it’s dancing,” she grumbles.

“I think maybe someone told you that to get you to stop talking.”

A pebble bounces off the bridge of Beau’s nose.

“You’re kind of prickly,” Keyleth teases.

“Only kind of? Dang, I gotta step it up; I’m losing my edge.”

Beau mostly means it as a joke. But she quiets and thinks of Jester unconscious in the castle, or smiling by a fire, or cackling as she pulls some dick-related prank—

There are some people worth softening for, Beau decides.

“Hey, listen.” She flails around with her left arm, trying to see if she can find the pebble Keyleth threw at her, just to have something to fiddle with while they talk. “Not that I wanna rehash any painful memories for you, but we’re clearly dealing with some weird shit here, and from what I’ve read, you and your friends made weird shit your job for a few years.”

Keyleth laughs, a breathy chuckle that stops just shy of veering into a snort. “That’s an understatement.”

“Got any tips?”

Beau hears Keyleth try to turn her head only to be thwarted by her antlers. She’s glad for it—Beau isn’t sure if she could handle the stare of someone just starting their journey of becoming ancient.

“A lot of my tactics were to turn into animals or mist, with mixed results,” Keyleth eventually says. “If you’re looking for a weird magical solution, you should talk to Scanlan.”

“I dunno what exactly people have told you about me, but I’m an Expositor of the Cobalt Soul. My main skills are kicking ass and getting dirt on the people whose asses I’ve kicked. I could probably pull together an itemized list of all the cool shit you’ve done that isn’t animals or mist.”

“You could?”

Beau rolls her eyes and turns her head to look at Keyleth, even if Keyleth can’t do the same. “I’m just saying, if I was asking about weird magic, I would be talking to Scanlan. But I’m not, so. Hit me with your thoughts.”

“Okay, well, most of the time when we tried to plan anything, our plans went to shit in about ten seconds.”

“Yep. Very familiar with that.”

“We tried to be clever about stuff and I can really only remember it working twice. The first time I dug a bunch of trenches and we hid some goliaths right before we fought an ancient black dragon—”

“Dope, dope; I wanna hear all about that sometime.”

“The second time—” Keyleth stops for long enough that Beau props herself up on her elbows, raises her eyebrows as Keyleth stumbles over whatever she’s trying to say. “You ever seen a goristro fight an ancient white dragon?”

“I kinda already knew this, but you guys really have a thing for ancient dragons, huh.”

Keyleth shakes her head. “I wish we didn’t. It would have—it’s exhausting, really. It’s like, you have this really big nail, and you talk for hours about the best way to strategically defeat the nail—maybe you could melt it down, or break it into a bunch of little nails, or turn it into something a lot squishier than a nail and hide it away forever, and what happens instead is that you find out the best way to defeat a really big nail is with an equally big hammer.”

“You want me to...beat it out of Jes?”

Keyleth laughs, airy and ringing. “No, I’m saying that—your friends are probably trying to think of tricky ways to heal her, right?” Beau nods and stretches back out. “I don’t know if you need to do that.” Keyleth shrugs, leaves crinkling underneath her splayed hands. “There isn’t much that a high-level Dispel Magic or Greater Restoration can’t fix.”

“Could you do that?”

“I know the spells. It would take me at least two days and there are clerics here who would probably be better at it.”

“And that’s all we have to do, right? Just cast these spells and she’ll wake up and I don’t have to wait anymore?”

“It’ll take some time. This is big magic, Beau.”

Beau lifts her legs, first one and then the other, and lets them thunk noisily against the ground. “I hate waiting.”

Keyleth scoffs, and it’s so slight that Beau can’t tell if there’s any malice in it. “People are capable of waiting for longer than you think. Sometimes you wait so long for something that you think you’ve actually stopped waiting for it, and then forty years later it comes back to you out of the blue. You think waiting is hard? Try getting something back after spending your whole life crafting an identity around the anger you felt because you didn’t have it.”

“Hm.” Beau pauses for a few moments to let that sink in. “It sounds like you’ve got a lot of feelings wrapped up in...something? Someone? You wanna talk about it?”

“No, thanks.”

“Jes always tells me I’m a good listener.”

“You’re too young to understand.”

Beau frowns. “I’m only, like, half your age.”

“Exactly.”

“Okay.” Birds scatter above them in a flurry of chirps and Beau thinks about looking at Keyleth, checking to see if she’s joining them. “That doesn’t...really tell me anything.”

Keyleth doesn’t turn back into a raven or anything, but the wind picks up underneath Beau’s body, so fast and strong that it actually lifts her at least a foot off the ground.

“Okay!” she yells, trying and failing to ‘swim’ her way back down. Keyleth lets her drop once she stops moving her arms. “Okay, gods.” Beau blows a tuft of hair from her face and fixes her top knot. “Slow and steady. I got it.”

Beau stays on the ground, unmoving, until Keyleth calms down enough to turn into a giant eagle and fly them both back to the castle.

Fuckin’ druids.

/

Beau finally gives in and lets Allura magic her into the Ethereal Plane. She closes her eyes as it happens, hopes that Jes isn’t in the room because now that Beau has the ability to touch her, she wants it to be a surprise.

Allura looks around fruitlessly as the spell kicks in and Beau disappears.

“All good?” she murmurs through Sending.

Beau laughs to herself a little as she looks over her body, the way she knows it’s solid because she’s occupying some kind of space, but she can see right through herself, too. She steps closer to Allura and passes a hand through her shoulder, just because she can. Allura doesn’t react.

“I’m all see-through and shimmery, got all my fingers and shit,” Beau replies. “Hey, where’d all the fish go?”

Allura sighs and presses her fingers against the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know what that means,” she says out loud. “Please don’t get into any trouble.”

Beau scans the room quickly and, not seeing Jester anywhere in it, slips quickly behind Allura as she opens the door. It’s wild, to walk around the castle she’s come to know so well without actually making an imprint on it. Beau tries her hardest to jump through the floor, or the ceiling, or any of the walls, and even though she knows she should be, she doesn’t make any noise doing it. (She also doesn’t succeed, which is understandable. Whitestone is made of sturdy stuff.)

Beau wanders through the castle, genuinely enjoying the fact that she can walk through whatever furniture she wants with just as much ease as she can sit on it. Caleb would have a field day trying to figure out how that’s metaphysically possible.

Beau takes a full thirty minutes to do a bunch of fucking flips off some bookcases.

Eventually even that novelty wears off and she realizes she’s got a time limit on being like this, so Beau resumes wandering, her feet eventually leading her to the kitchen.

She waits until someone flings the double doors open and darts inside.

Varon is at the stove frying some onions when she walks in, and Beau flicks her fingers in a salute before she remembers he can’t see her.

“Sup,” she mumbles anyway, then she tries to kick a table.

“Beau??” Jester’s pops into a view a few seconds after she shouts. “What are you doing in the kitchen; I told you you didn’t need to get me pastries anymore.”

“I know,” Beau smiles. “I’m looking for you. Here, lemme help.” She reaches out a hand, giving Jester something to hold onto as she steps over and through crates and pantries on wheels.

“Thanks,” Jester says, taking her hand absently. Beau will cherish the gasp that follows for a long time to come. “Oh my gosh, Beau!” Jester squeals. “You’re here with me, you did it, you let Allura cast the spell! Does that mean you’re close to changing me back or did you just miss me too much?”

Beau shrugs. “Both, I guess. Mostly the first one.” She can’t help but laugh as Jester pinches her shoulder, two times just because she can. “Talked to Keyleth, you know the druid of Vex’s party?”

“Oooh, is she super cool?”

“I mean they’re all hella cool, you know? Keyleth seems like...I dunno, like she’s still working out some shit. Anyway, she thinks we should just cast Dispel Magic and Greater Restoration on you at really high levels.”

“That’s it?” Jester frowns. “I mean, that’s so—I feel like if that’s all it took, we would have done it already.”

“Sure, maybe. But we haven’t, so—”

“Might as well.”

“Might as well,” Beau repeats quietly.

Jester laughs—really laughs, the kind that travels in waves down her body and out through the air to anyone near enough, which is always Beau. The sound of it is so bright and cheerful that Beau is momentarily surprised that Varon isn’t reacting to it, because it obviously has to be the best thing he’s ever heard.

Something clogs up Beau’s throat as she realizes she’s the only other person who can hear it at all.

“You could have just told me all this in a Sending or something, you know,” Jester teases.

“Yeah,” Beau nods. “But I think—I haven’t talked about it with any of the wizards or clerics, but I just have a feeling that when they do the Dispel, you might not be in the Ethereal Plane anymore. And I guess I didn’t wanna—” She shakes her head, climbing on top of a counter and swinging her legs back and forth. “It sounds dumb when I say it out loud.”

“How do you know; you haven’t said it yet.”

“That’s fair,” Beau mumbles. “I dunno.” She shrugs again. “I know we’re getting you back in a few days so it really doesn’t matter, but at the same time it does, you know? I didn’t wanna miss—it was a dick move,” she says, huffing a large breath, “not letting Allura do this before. You’re like, you shouldn’t have to be as alone as you are right now. I coulda done better.”

“Beau…” Jester’s voice curls around Beau’s name in the way only it can, sad and tender and touched in equal measure. “It has been super lonely,” she continues, “and you could have done this earlier, but I’m not mad at you or anything.” She wraps her arms around Beau, tucks her horns into the bend of Beau’s shoulder. Jester isn’t as warm as she usually is, but if Beau concentrates she can close her eyes and tune that out and just bask in whatever way she’s able to touch Jester again.

“I want to, like, burrow underneath your clothes,” Jester mumbles into the ghost of Beau’s skin.

“Um.”

“You know?”

“Absolutely not. Absolutely no, I don’t know.”

Jester giggles. “Beauuuu-wuh! I’m trying to say that I missed you.”

“Okay.” Beau adjusts her arms, clasps one wrist in the other hand and lets her loose fists settle against the small of Jester’s back. “I haven’t heard that one before. I’ll remember it for next time.”

“Wanna sit on the stove with me? Sometimes I swear Varon can sense I’m there and it makes him angry.”

“Hell yeah.”

“In, like, five minutes or something.”

“Sure.”

Beau closes her eyes, imagines for a moment that they’re in the Chateau and any moment, Marion is going to come into the kitchen and ask the chefs to start baking Jester’s favorite pastries. It doesn’t take long for the savory smells of Whitestone to be replaced by the sweet cinnamon and butter of Nicodranas. Beau tightens her grip on Jester and she swears she can feel the sea breeze waft in through the windows.

Jester leans her full weight against Beau. Beau can’t decide if she dreams the small, contented hum Jester makes a moment later.

“Said it already but, I, uh. Missed you too, Jes.”

//

vi.

.

Beau’s suspicions are confirmed when Keyleth casts Dispel Magic the next day. Whatever spell was trapping Jester in the Ethereal Plane dissipates, which is good for Jester, but bad for the rest of them, as it takes another five days before Pike can try a restoration and they can’t even talk to Jester while they wait.

Beau would never admit to it, but she’s grumpier than usual for those five days. Rude, even, but how is she supposed to be anything different when this is the longest amount of time she’s been separated from Jester since they met. It’s—Percy or Scanlan would say it’s agony, but they’re melodramatic assholes. Obviously there are worse things people go through.

(Beau wouldn’t correct them if they said it, though.)

The best thing to take her mind off the waiting is sparring with Yasha and Grog. It’s really hilarious, to see the three of them together—like looking at a physical representation of the various stages of shrinking. Beau isn’t too much shorter than Yasha, but the difference in their builds makes it seem like she is.

There aren’t any fighting pits in Whitestone like Beau has encountered in other cities, but Percy and Vex have crafted a designated area large enough to accommodate their goliath friend. Beau and Yasha spend their mornings getting thrown around by Grog and giving it back just as good. He delights in the thrill of fighting, in the activity of it, his laugh booming in the air whether he’s taking a punch or throwing one. Sometimes Trinket even wanders in at the end of the day, grumbling happily at his new friends and flopping on top of Grog’s chest.

That’s where Beau finds herself, three days into waiting, sprawled out on Trinket’s back as he spreads out on Grog.

“You know, you’re not so bad, for a bunch of old dudes,” Beau huffs, still feeling the exertion of their sparring session.

Trinket and Grog protest in unison. Beau grips onto Trinket’s fur as he tries to shake her off.

“‘M not old,” Grog mutters.

“Your beard’s all grey, man.”

“Maybe it’s s’posed ta be like this. You know I’m the only goliath who even has a beard?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s cool. Still old, though.”

Grog launches a stick up at Beau and it falls on her stomach with the weight of a log.

“Alright, alright.” She pushes it back to the ground. “Hey, can I ask a question?”

“Shoot.”

“All of your friends kind of paired off, right? Except you.”

“Yeah.”

“Does it—are you lonely?”

“Sort of.” Grog shifts at the bottom of the pile, the effects rippling through Trinket and up to Beau. “But it’s not all the time, and I can usually find someone to help me through the tough spots. I’m always around Pike and Scanlan and that’s good. If it’s not, I know a few ladies. Or I just come here, or go visit Zephrah or Emon or somewhere else.”

“It’s that easy?”

“S’not easy,” Grog clarifies. “But it’s not nothin’, either.”

“Sure.”

“You don’t have to worry about that, though. You got a lotta years to go.”

“Yeah, but I mean—if it’s just gonna be me for most of them, might as well start prepping now.”

“Well, that’s just nonsense.”

Beau slides up Trinket’s back until she can lean over and look at Grog. “Nuh uh!”

Grog scratches Trinket behind the ear before threading his fingers behind his head. “I’m not super smart,” he says, scrunching his nose as if concentrating very hard on what he’s saying. “But I’ve been around for a while and I know some stuff. All of my friends did get together, and almost all of them lost their other half at least once. Now I’m not sayin’ the little blue one’s not gonna pull through, ‘cause from what you’ve told me she can put up a good fight. But I’ve seen my friends and I know what it looks like, that kind of visceral absence. You look like that.”

Beau smiles in spite of her sadness. “‘Visceral’, huh? That’s a good word.”

“I know all the fancy words for bloody things,” Grog beams.

“The rest of it was kind of a downer, though.”

Grog pats a space on his chest not covered by Trinket. “This sun’s perfect for a nap,” he yawns. “Gets real cozy if you squeeze in between me and the bear.”

Beau twists around, squints to assess the sun. Even if she doesn’t fall asleep, it might be a nice way to kill a few hours waiting.

She slides down Trinket’s side, giving him a pat along the way as he grumbles a low roar. Trinket helpfully lifts up his left side and, between his shifting and the way Grog repositions his arm, she’s able to situate herself in a little nook that is indeed very cozy.

Grog hums as she gets settled, a deep rumble that she can feel vibrate through his chest and into hers.

“You’ll be alright,” he promises sleepily. “Don’t worry about it too much—I never do.”

Beau peeks an eye open, watches how quickly Grog slips into actual sleep. His cheeks go slack, free of tension but riddled with scars and lines from hard years of battle. His beard scratches pleasantly at the top of her head, and his arm splays protectively—respectfully—across her back.

For a few hours, Beau listens to him, and doesn’t worry a bit.

/

After five days, Pike determines it’s okay to try Greater Restoration. It goes even smoother than Keyleth’s Dispel Magic had, as if Jester can’t wait to get back to her friends. Beau supposes that after almost a month asleep—or at least, not fully awake—that’s probably true.

Still takes two fuckin’ days to wake up after that, though, and Beau spends every second in their room, just in case.

Jester stirs just before midnight. The sky in Whitestone isn’t the same as Nicodranas—not as blue, or at least that’s what Beau decided the second this place became one Jester couldn’t experience with the rest of them. They’ve got a lot of missed time to make up on, for a variety of things.

But Jester wakes up and brings the color back to the sky. Beau smiles, watches from a nearby chair as her breathing changes and she tries to lift her arms. She’s stopped by weeks of disuse and the very tight blankets Pike had tucked around her halfway through, when a cold spell hit the city.

Beau walks over slowly, light steps and fluid movements. She loosens the covers around Jester as gently as she can, taking care not to touch her body before she’s ready. Beau props up the pillows on the other side of the bed and climbs in carefully, scooting back against the headboard and stretching out her legs.

“Trying to be gentle?” Jester croaks from beside her. She coughs a few times and Beau passes her a glass of water, angles a straw down so she doesn’t have to tilt her head.

“Yeah,” Beau answers. “Always, with you.”

“That’s funny.” Jester huffs the barest hint of a laugh Beau’s ever heard. “The way you said it, it kind of sounded like you meant you were always gentle with me or just always with me.”

“Well, yeah. It’s definitely both; I totally did that on purpose.”

Jester coughs again and takes another long sip of water. “How many days has it been?”

“Just about a month.”

“Whoa. Holy shit, that’s so long.” Jester tries to open her eyes but only succeeds in raising her eyebrows a little bit. “Did someone tell my momma?”

Beau smiles at Jester’s concern, thinks about messing with her and then checks herself. “Yeah, we messaged her. I can run and grab Pike right now, if you want to let her know you’re back.”

“No, don’t go.” Jester manages to shake her head a little. “Thanks for not pranking me, by the way.”

“I’m not gonna lie, I definitely thought about it.”

“Of course you did. Hey, Beau?”

“Yeah.”

“I love you so much.”

“Yeah.”

“I know I just spent so much time sleeping but I’m still very tired so I’m going to go to sleep again soon. But before that happens, can you please do something for me?”

“‘Course, Jes. Anything.”

“Can you pick up my hand? And then, you know—” There’s a pause for a few moments where nothing happens. Beau thinks that maybe something should happen, but Jester’s body is too tired to obey her. “Okay, well, apparently I can’t mime anything right now,” Jester eventually huffs. “But, you know. On you?”

Beau grins. “Yeah, I got you.” She peels back the covers and reaches for Jester’s hand, so alive and warm after such a tepid month. Beau can’t help pressing a kiss to Jester’s knuckles before she arranges Jester’s hand on her cheek, the same way she had a few weeks earlier. She holds it there and shuffles around, twisting to lay on her stomach so she can look right at Jester.

Jester, after a long, fluttering struggle, opens her eyes and beams to see Beau gazing back at her.

“Exactly,” she breathes. “You do know.”

“Totally.”

“One more thing,” Jester whispers. “Quickly, I’m sleepier than I thought.”

“Hit me.”

“Say it back,” Jester says—and then, oh-so-faintly, purses her lips.

Tears spring to Beau’s eyes, a lump to her throat, but she pushes all of it back to grant Jester’s request. She presses her mouth to Jester’s, cautious of leaning anything close to her full weight on Jester’s body. Jester is soft but cracked and Beau kisses her for a little longer than necessary, if only to cure some of the dehydration. She brushes a piece of Jester’s hair from her face, clicks her tongue at the tears that trail down Jester’s cheeks.

“No need for that,” Beau whispers, “because I’m here, okay? And I love you, too; more than anything.”

Beau kisses her one more time and, smiling, follows Jester into sleep.