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Part 7 of A thousand fingerprints on the surfaces of who I am
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2020-03-21
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Let it alone, it will surely grow

Summary:

'How do you give back to a man who – changes you? Who writes something new and different over the surface of who you are? Who gives you – ’

Essek stops. Because his voice is splintering, and because he could live a thousand lifetimes and never find words for what Caleb has done for him.

‘Hope? Well, you say thank you, for starters.’

(In which Caduceus and Essek discuss growth, and wanting things, and green beans. And Caleb.)

Notes:

I really want Caduceus and Essek to talk about... everything. So until they do in canon, here's something set in a hypothetical future where Cad's done some reflection on his own issues, and Essek's making a start on the whole redemption thing.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Essek has, historically, been wary of spending any time alone with Caduceus Clay.

And it’s not for the same reason that he avoids being alone with Beau, who still looks at him with seething, unforgiving eyes, or with Yasha, who carries a blade meant for mage-killing. Nor is it for the same reason that he avoided Caduceus in the months before the Nein learned the truth. Then, Caduceus was dangerous. Too perceptive, too intuitive, too familiar with what a liar sounds like.

Now? Now, Caduceus is too kind.

Thinking of Caduceus means remembering you’re a good man. It means remembering just say it. We’re all here. Remembering apology accepted. Thinking about Caduceus means thinking about kindness, and the question of what, exactly, Essek has done to deserve it. An uncomfortable question, seeing as he has very little in the way of an answer.

But here he is anyway, drifting down the Rosohna streets towards the Mighty Nein's home. To speak to Caduceus. 

The house's windows shine in the road ahead, the rooftop tree highlighted in gold under the strings of captured light. There's a pause, after Essek knocks; then the door swings open with a peal of chimes. Yasha's standing there, filling the entire doorframe - and of course she would be wearing her mage-killing sword inside her own house. Of course she would.

The silence stretches. Then Yasha says, ‘Hello?’

A promising enough start. Better than being asked what he’s doing here. ‘Good morning, Yasha.’

She blinks, and glances up at the sky. ‘I don’t know if it is. I mean, it’s pretty dark.’

Essek stares at her.

‘That was a joke,’ she says, and Essek makes a mental, grateful note that things are peaceable enough between them that she’s willing to mess with him. ‘I, uh. Is there something you need? I think Caleb is working on… things? In his study. If you wanted me to get him?’

And oh, it's a tempting offer. There's a hunger in Essek that he never noticed for over a century, an ache for quiet moments in which he is not alone. It would be so easy to satisfy that hunger, to say yes to Yasha and spend hours with Caleb surrounded by books, tracing spell-runes in the air. It would be so easy, and it would be so peaceful.

It would also make certain matters worse. Certain feelings.

‘Actually, I was hoping…’ He knows how strange this will sound. ‘Is Caduceus at home?’

Yasha’s eyebrows draw together. ‘He’s in the garden,’ she says – slowly, as if awaiting further explanation. When Essek offers none, she steps aside and gestures for him to follow her.

Yasha is content to make jokes around him. She is not, apparently, content to let him pass through the house alone. She flanks him like a bodyguard through the rooms and up the stairs, and when they emerge onto the roof she lingers on the top step, arms crossed. It’s more than a little unsettling.

Caduceus, though - Caduceus is kneeling at the edge of his garden, looking as far from unsettling as Essek has ever seen anyone. His tunic is rolled up to above his elbows, his arms and knees are soil-smeared, and he’s cradling a seedling in his hands as if it were an infant. He smiles at each of them in turn, says 'Hey,' and then, to Essek, ‘Haven’t seen you up here before.’

Essek nods back. ‘It’s an impressive garden. The tree was your doing?’

‘Oh, yeah. Though the seed was a gift from Caleb, and Jester helped me get all the lights going.’ Caduceus straightens up, dusting his hands on his trousers. ‘What do you need?’

‘I was – ’ Essek glances at the still-staring Yasha. ‘I was wondering – I see you’re busy, but if I could ask your advice?’

‘Sure.' Caduceus's smile spreads into something broad and warm and satisfied. Like he expected this. 'I can talk and garden at the same time. I mean, I was already doing that, I was talking to the beans, but I’m sure they won’t mind me giving you some attention as well. In fact –’ His eyes flick towards the vegetable patch, then back to Essek. ‘How do you feel about lending a hand? Got a lot of seedlings to move into this larger bed, and some of them are anxious about being re-homed. Might be good for them to know that someone else is helping out.’

Essek decides to not even approach the question of how beans experience anxiety. Instead, he takes a quick mental stock of his cloak (spotless), his clothes (not at all cheap), and his gardening abilities (minimal.) Then remembers that Yasha’s eyes are burning into his back, and that he needs Caduceus’s help, and that humbling himself has been the most painful and most essential part of this process. This… changing.

He’s still floating. And he should stop, so he drifts over to Caduceus and drops onto the ground. ‘You’ll need to show me what to do. I have only ever looked after houseplants.’

Though he can’t see Yasha’s face, he feels the intensity of her gaze lift a little. And a moment later she turns and heads back down the stairs.

Essek removes his cloak and jacket and drapes them over the rooftop wall, leaving himself in his still-expensive but less irreplaceable undershirt. There’s nothing to be done about his trousers except roll them up and hope for the best, but – well. Clothes can be washed. So he goes over to the side of the garden, and kneels in the dirt at Caduceus’s side.

(It’s hard. It’s still so hard. The humbling.)

(Maybe it will come easier, with time, and practice. With the warmth that fills him at the sight of Caduceus’s pleased, proud smile.)

‘So,’ Caduceus says, and holds out one of the seedlings, nestled in a handful of earth. ‘What did you need to talk about?’

Essek takes the plant from him, soil and all. The earth’s cool against his fingers, crumbly, and he can already feel it getting under his nails. ‘You recall that evening I visited you all? Before you learned what had been done?’

Something creeps into Caduceus's face, a hint of fond frustration – and Essek hesitates. Reflects on his words. Breathes in and tries again. ‘Before you learned what I did.’

(Humility. Responsibility. They’re close cousins, Essek is learning.)

‘I asked you – most of you – what you were working towards. You told me about your home, and Veth explained her... situation. Fjord and Jester talked about finding their places in the world.’ Copying Caduceus’s movements, Essek scoops a hole in the soil and slips the seedling into it. ‘I… didn’t ask Caleb. I find that I wish I had.’

He smooths the soil around the plant’s stem, and risks looking at Caduceus. Who is frowning, though gently. ‘If you’re interested in what Caleb wants, why don’t you ask him?’

When Essek hesitates, Caduceus holds out a watering can. Essek takes it, grateful for the few seconds’ respite as he waters the seedling, anchoring it into the earth. Why is he here? On the face of it, he’s here because Caduceus sees everything, because Caduceus will be able to answer this question and will answer it kindly. But Caduceus is also right. This is a question for Caleb. These things should not be discussed behind his back.

Then again, how would that conversation go? Good morning, Caleb, I’m interested in your ambitions. You mentioned once that they were like my own, so if I’m being honest with myself – a skill I’m finally adding to my repertoire – this is a selfish attempt to cling to the idea that you and I are alike. But from a less selfish standpoint, I want to be of service to you. Because I need to give something in return for all you’ve given me. Because I miss our hours of shared study, and I miss your trust, I miss living in a world where you felt able to pull me into an embrace along with Nott after research well-done, and I miss –

Essek closes his eyes. So many things that he misses, and yet most of all he misses something that never even was.

Caduceus is still watching him, still waiting for an answer. So Essek pats the soil flat around the seedling and says, ‘He would ask me why I wanted to know. And I would not know how to answer.’

‘Well, why do you?’

‘Because when you met me, I was –  well. You saw. And now, I know you all, and I’m –’

He can't end that sentence, because he’s not sure what he is now, except different and raw and painfully vulnerable. ‘I have a debt to repay. Don't think I'm not grateful to all of you, of course, but... you, Jester, and in time, the others - you offered me forgiveness. It was Caleb who offered me living proof that change was possible, and for that... well. It's ironic. I counted all those favours, but in the end, I'm the one indebted.'

‘I know a bit about that. Wanting to pay something back. Or…’ Caduceus stops, one hand on the watering can, frowning again. ‘Or telling yourself that’s what you need to do.’

Essek has never seen this man falter before. Or talk about his burdens. And if he talks about Caduceus it means he has a reprieve from talking about himself, so he says, ‘Pay something back to whom? Your friends?’

‘Our friends, yeah. They got me out into the world, protected me so that I could heal my home. And once I'd done what I set out to do, once I had a chance to go back... I, uh. I didn't.’ Caduceus collects another seedling, and squints at it. ‘Oh, we got a nervous one here. Come on, it's just different soil, it's not going to kill you.'

Essek waits, as Caduceus spends a few seconds muttering to the bean before lowering it into the earth. ‘See? No need for panic. Anyway, I told my family I was staying because I owed a debt to our friends. But I thought about it a lot, and then I tried to stop thinking about it, and that went terribly, and eventually I decided to be honest with myself. Solves a lot of problems.’ He's motionless for a moment, his hands still buried in the soil. ‘I mean, it also hurts a lot, sometimes.’

‘You’re not wrong.’

Caduceus pulls his hands out of the dirt, shoots Essek a smile, and passes him another bean. ‘It was an excuse. The debt. I wanted to owe them, so I had an excuse for wanting to stay. I was so used to having destinies, not desires. You never met my siblings, but they’re a lot, and I was supposed to be the reliable one who’d stay at home and not make demands. Turns out it's hard to want things, even the people you love, when you feel like you're, uh. Not allowed to. And it looks like that's where you've ended up: wanting things, and feeling like it's selfish, like you shouldn't.'

Ah. Of course. Of course Caduceus would only bring up his own troubles as a way to draw Essek's own into the light. Impressive, in a way; Light knows Essek wouldn't have brought up the whole matter of wanting, and wanting people, and the shame and guilt of it all, if Caduceus hadn't blindsided him so perfectly. 

He closes his eyes. Tries not to picture Caleb's face. ‘I did nothing but want for a hundred and twenty years. And now –’

‘Now you’re trying to be better. And you think that means you can’t want, because your old self wanted things, and you don’t like the person you see when you look back. And maybe you still don't feel too different from that person. Maybe you’re not everything you want to be just yet. But these beans won’t be fully grown overnight, just because we watered them once.’

Plant metaphors. They had to happen sooner or later. Essek isn’t sure why being compared to a bean is comforting, but, strangely, it is.

‘As for you wanting to do something for Caleb – you don't need to pretend it's about a debt, any more than I did. There's no need to make it all about favours for favours anymore. You don’t need an excuse for kindness, you know that?'

Essek swallows, and digs his fingers into the soil. ‘You all certainly never did, with me.’

Silence, as he stares at the dirt and the lanterns flicker. Then there’s weight on his shoulder, and it’s Caduceus’s hand, and it’s most definitely getting soil all over Essek’s shirt but it’s warm and soothing and Essek is so, so grateful that it’s there.

And that small, unnecessary kindness is enough. Enough for a barrier to snap inside him, enough for the words to spill out. ‘It feels – I feel that kindness is not enough. Not here. Not with him. How do you give back to a man who – changes you? Who writes something new and different over the surface of who you are? Who gives you – ’

Essek stops. Because his voice is splintering, and because he could live a thousand lifetimes and never find words for what Caleb has done for him.

‘Hope? Well, you say thank you, for starters.’ The hand on Essek’s shoulder squeezes before releasing. ‘But - Essek, he already told you what he wants, that night you came clean with us. There were other things he wanted once, but by the time we found out about you, he had very different priorities. And if there’s anything he wants now, it’s…’ He waves a hand, taking in the two of them, the beans in a row at Essek’s knees. ‘Well, it’s this.’

‘Green beans?’

‘Well, everyone should want green beans, but I meant you. Finding that better self. Becoming who you're meant to be.’

‘I know you’re a man of faith. But I’ve pulled the threads of fate many times, and I don’t believe in any meant to be. Chance is so easily manipulated. Timelines are so easily cast aside.’

‘That's fair. I disagree, but it's fair. All the same, this man here –’ Caduceus gestures to Essek, earth-smeared clothes and all. ‘Isn’t this someone you want to be, more than the one you were? I mean, look at you now. The man who lit the spark of war, kneeling in a garden and helping plants to grow.’

And Essek can’t speak. But he nods.

Caduceus places the last bean into the soil. ‘Then practice being this person. Keep helping things grow because you can, and because you want to. Let yourself want things, when they’re good things. That’s what you can do for Caleb.'

He gets to his feet, brushing his hands together. ‘There we go. They like you, by the way, they think you handled them very carefully. Thanks for helping out with them.’

Once upon a time it would have startled Essek, to be told that he had the approval of vegetables. It doesn't startle him in the slightest now, which goes to show how bizarre life with the Nein is. ‘Well… they’re welcome. As are you. And... thank you, Caduceus.'

Caduceus’s ears flick in acknowledgement. ‘Stay for dinner?’

‘I haven't been invited. I wouldn’t want to impose.’

‘I just did invite you. And as the designated chef, I think I get some authority when it comes to dinner.’

Essek almost offers to help in the kitchen, but he knows he'd be turned down. So nods his gratitude, and collects his outer garments from the wall. He doesn’t put them on. Let the Mighty Nein see him covered in dirt, and know that he’s been helping. Changing.

It’s as they’re heading downstairs, past the tree roots, that Caduceus says, ‘It won’t be soon. If it happens.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘With Caleb. He’s been hurt, and I don’t only mean by you. If it happens, it’s… it’s going to need time to grow. A lot of gentle handling. Plenty of water.’

Essek decides there has never been a better time to become fascinated by the root structure of sixty-foot trees.

‘But that’s the interesting part, isn’t it?’ Caduceus’s voice is soft, his smile softer still. ‘The growing towards something. The way there.’

And he leads Essek downstairs, to where their friends are waiting.

Notes:

Title from 'Grow' by the Oh Hellos (because that song is 100% Cad's internal monologue through all of this)