The first night is fine. He sleeps under the open sky, with only Caleb’s dome to block them. The second night is fine. Another day walking, another day camping. The rest of the Mighty Nein ease up on their ginger steps around him, and he sleeps, content and safe in the Mother’s embrace.
The third day, they return to civilization, and it’s fine. He enters the town, and he’s cheery enough.
The third night, they sleep at the inn, and it’s fine. He’s fine.
Except, there’s a mirror on the wall, and a body in the mirror, and it stares back at him, with those empty eyes.
“Caduceus?” Fjord asks, standing at the door, everything about him stained deep with worry.
There’s no longer a mirror on the wall. Instead, there are shards of mirror on the ground, on the wall, on his hands. There’s blood, on his hands. Blood on the floor.
“Well, that’s not good,” he says, staring at his hands.
Fjord sits him down on the bed, a gentle arm around his shoulders, tells him not to move as he goes downstairs to fetch the others. Caduceus sits still for a few moments, before walking back over to where the shards of mirrors are.
“Sit back down,” Fjord says, in the door. His voice is soft, and more than a little sad.
“You need to clean up broken glass as soon as possible,” Caduceus says. “In case someone else gets hurt.”
“I’ll do it,” Yasha says, her eyes a flash of sympathy when they meet, just a moment before she looks away. She kneels down on the ground, and starts picking up the pieces.
“Give me your arm,” Jester says, sitting down next to him. She pulls out the glass, slowly, and then presses a gentle cure wounds into his hand, the wounds closing up without a trace. She doesn’t let his hand go. “You know,” she says. “When I was taken, I thought the Traveller abandoned me, because I couldn’t hear him anymore, and I was really angry, and sad, but mostly I was just- but then you guys came, and you got us out of there. The Traveller never left me, he just guided you guys back to me, because he knew that when you’re at your lowest, all you need is your friends to be there for you.”
“You told me someday somebody would need help, and then I’d be there,” Fjord adds. “And I’m here. We’re here. We’re here to help, Caduceus.”
“That’s very considerate of you,” Caduceus says, not able to mask the small vein of pleasure in his voice at both of their obvious growth, “but really, it’s not necessary, I’m-”
“Fine?” Jester asks, raising Caduceus’ arm for him.
“People who are fine don’t punch mirrors,” Beau says. “I can speak from experience on that.”
“You went through a lot, back with-” Fjord says. “It’s okay that it left a mark. We all have scars.”
“But I didn’t,” Caduceus says. “I didn’t give anything up that I cared of. It didn’t matter. It doesn’t matter, not to me. I’m unhurt, unmarked, I didn’t lose anything of importance, it was more than a generous deal-” He cuts himself off, pauses, breathes in. “It’s nothing but a matter of bodies. Bodies live, and die, and return to the Wildmother, and what happens to bodies is unimportant.”
“Is it?” Nott asks, and she is Nott, well, she isn’t Veth, doesn’t wear Veth’s face for all she’s in a halfling body. She’s something in between the two, now, and she stares up at Caduceus with eyes that should burn, like all the eyes burn, but instead they’re soft.
“In the end, it’s all the same,” Caduceus says.
“All of this was for a body,” Nott says. “For my body. Getting it back. If bodies didn’t matter, then this wouldn’t matter, and none of it would have happened at all.”
“It matters to you,” Caduceus says. “You bear a great wound. And the only way forward was to heal it, and the only way I saw to heal it was to return you to who you had been. It’s the only thing that mattered.”
“Why would you want to help me?” Nott asks. “I’ve been horrible to you. I’ve never been kind, I’ve been irritable, and drunk, and I’ve killed you.”
“But now you won’t,” Caduceus says. “The wound in your heart has been healed. All of the wounds you all bear, they’re healing. And when they’ve finished, you’ll be alright, and we’ll save the world, and everything will be as it ought to be.”
“And you?” Jester asks.
“I’ll get to go home.”
The room is quiet, still, the only sound the slight clink of glass from where Yasha cleans, and even that grows even quieter, to match the stillness.
Nott wraps her arms around Caduceus, holding him tight.
“I don’t think everything can be fixed,” she says. “I thought it would be easy, but I don’t think everyone can get a magic sword and be alright. But you get better. It gets better.” She lets go, sitting next to him. “We’re going to get you home to your family. I promise.”
“You don’t have to just worry about fixing our problems,” Fjord adds. “We’re here to help fix yours too.”
“You going to punch any more mirrors?” Beau asks.
“No,” Caduceus says. “I don’t think I like it, very much.”
“If you want to get yourself hurt, as me to beat the shit out of you as training,” Beau suggests. “Cause at least then it’s useful, and I know how to control myself so that nothing goes too badly, or gets infected.”
“Beau!” Jester says. “You can’t say that-”
“I don’t think I’ll take you up on that offer,” Caduceus says, “but I appreciate it.”
“Get some sleep,” Jester says. “Unless you’d rather go camping, because I’m totally up to go camping, if it’ll make you feel better.”
“I’ll be fine in here,” Caduceus says, and slowly, they all make their way out of the room, with furtive, gentle looks in his direction. He sees Yasha almost say something, but reconsider it, and he sees Caleb linger, until he’s the last one, standing in the doorway.
“It’s better to put blankets over them,” he says, staring towards where the mirror had sat. “Or to take them down and face them against the wall. Do you mind our eyes on you?”
And there’s a thing he hadn’t noticed, hadn’t paid attention to. Caleb’s eyes haven’t been on him, since he first entered the room. They’ve always been turned aside.
He thinks that concept over for a few moments, as sour as it feels in his mind. “No,” he says. “I don’t mind it.”
“The loss of control leaves a very peculiar scar,” Caleb notes. “But it’s just a scar.”
And with that, he turns, and let’s the door be shut.
That night, he sleeps. It isn’t as restful a sleep as those he’d had deep in the Wildmother’s embrace, but it’s a rest all the same, as the dread curled up in his chest lets him go into the dark.
It may have been an easier path, he supposes, staying in the dark and letting it all pass over, but a part of him is glad that instead he takes the one where his friends guide him back into the light.
Fill: Treasure, Caduceus/Other, non-con whump, 3/3
The third day, they return to civilization, and it’s fine. He enters the town, and he’s cheery enough.
The third night, they sleep at the inn, and it’s fine. He’s fine.
Except, there’s a mirror on the wall, and a body in the mirror, and it stares back at him, with those empty eyes.
“Caduceus?” Fjord asks, standing at the door, everything about him stained deep with worry.
There’s no longer a mirror on the wall. Instead, there are shards of mirror on the ground, on the wall, on his hands. There’s blood, on his hands. Blood on the floor.
“Well, that’s not good,” he says, staring at his hands.
Fjord sits him down on the bed, a gentle arm around his shoulders, tells him not to move as he goes downstairs to fetch the others. Caduceus sits still for a few moments, before walking back over to where the shards of mirrors are.
“Sit back down,” Fjord says, in the door. His voice is soft, and more than a little sad.
“You need to clean up broken glass as soon as possible,” Caduceus says. “In case someone else gets hurt.”
“I’ll do it,” Yasha says, her eyes a flash of sympathy when they meet, just a moment before she looks away. She kneels down on the ground, and starts picking up the pieces.
“Give me your arm,” Jester says, sitting down next to him. She pulls out the glass, slowly, and then presses a gentle cure wounds into his hand, the wounds closing up without a trace. She doesn’t let his hand go. “You know,” she says. “When I was taken, I thought the Traveller abandoned me, because I couldn’t hear him anymore, and I was really angry, and sad, but mostly I was just- but then you guys came, and you got us out of there. The Traveller never left me, he just guided you guys back to me, because he knew that when you’re at your lowest, all you need is your friends to be there for you.”
“You told me someday somebody would need help, and then I’d be there,” Fjord adds. “And I’m here. We’re here. We’re here to help, Caduceus.”
“That’s very considerate of you,” Caduceus says, not able to mask the small vein of pleasure in his voice at both of their obvious growth, “but really, it’s not necessary, I’m-”
“Fine?” Jester asks, raising Caduceus’ arm for him.
“People who are fine don’t punch mirrors,” Beau says. “I can speak from experience on that.”
“You went through a lot, back with-” Fjord says. “It’s okay that it left a mark. We all have scars.”
“But I didn’t,” Caduceus says. “I didn’t give anything up that I cared of. It didn’t matter. It doesn’t matter, not to me. I’m unhurt, unmarked, I didn’t lose anything of importance, it was more than a generous deal-” He cuts himself off, pauses, breathes in. “It’s nothing but a matter of bodies. Bodies live, and die, and return to the Wildmother, and what happens to bodies is unimportant.”
“Is it?” Nott asks, and she is Nott, well, she isn’t Veth, doesn’t wear Veth’s face for all she’s in a halfling body. She’s something in between the two, now, and she stares up at Caduceus with eyes that should burn, like all the eyes burn, but instead they’re soft.
“In the end, it’s all the same,” Caduceus says.
“All of this was for a body,” Nott says. “For my body. Getting it back. If bodies didn’t matter, then this wouldn’t matter, and none of it would have happened at all.”
“It matters to you,” Caduceus says. “You bear a great wound. And the only way forward was to heal it, and the only way I saw to heal it was to return you to who you had been. It’s the only thing that mattered.”
“Why would you want to help me?” Nott asks. “I’ve been horrible to you. I’ve never been kind, I’ve been irritable, and drunk, and I’ve killed you.”
“But now you won’t,” Caduceus says. “The wound in your heart has been healed. All of the wounds you all bear, they’re healing. And when they’ve finished, you’ll be alright, and we’ll save the world, and everything will be as it ought to be.”
“And you?” Jester asks.
“I’ll get to go home.”
The room is quiet, still, the only sound the slight clink of glass from where Yasha cleans, and even that grows even quieter, to match the stillness.
Nott wraps her arms around Caduceus, holding him tight.
“I don’t think everything can be fixed,” she says. “I thought it would be easy, but I don’t think everyone can get a magic sword and be alright. But you get better. It gets better.” She lets go, sitting next to him. “We’re going to get you home to your family. I promise.”
“You don’t have to just worry about fixing our problems,” Fjord adds. “We’re here to help fix yours too.”
“You going to punch any more mirrors?” Beau asks.
“No,” Caduceus says. “I don’t think I like it, very much.”
“If you want to get yourself hurt, as me to beat the shit out of you as training,” Beau suggests. “Cause at least then it’s useful, and I know how to control myself so that nothing goes too badly, or gets infected.”
“Beau!” Jester says. “You can’t say that-”
“I don’t think I’ll take you up on that offer,” Caduceus says, “but I appreciate it.”
“Get some sleep,” Jester says. “Unless you’d rather go camping, because I’m totally up to go camping, if it’ll make you feel better.”
“I’ll be fine in here,” Caduceus says, and slowly, they all make their way out of the room, with furtive, gentle looks in his direction. He sees Yasha almost say something, but reconsider it, and he sees Caleb linger, until he’s the last one, standing in the doorway.
“It’s better to put blankets over them,” he says, staring towards where the mirror had sat. “Or to take them down and face them against the wall. Do you mind our eyes on you?”
And there’s a thing he hadn’t noticed, hadn’t paid attention to. Caleb’s eyes haven’t been on him, since he first entered the room. They’ve always been turned aside.
He thinks that concept over for a few moments, as sour as it feels in his mind. “No,” he says. “I don’t mind it.”
“The loss of control leaves a very peculiar scar,” Caleb notes. “But it’s just a scar.”
And with that, he turns, and let’s the door be shut.
That night, he sleeps. It isn’t as restful a sleep as those he’d had deep in the Wildmother’s embrace, but it’s a rest all the same, as the dread curled up in his chest lets him go into the dark.
It may have been an easier path, he supposes, staying in the dark and letting it all pass over, but a part of him is glad that instead he takes the one where his friends guide him back into the light.