Chapter Text
Oscar laid down next to Zolf, thoroughly exhausted. He had spent several hours on the deck, keeping watch while Barnes slept. The time outside of the anti-magic field wore him down more quickly and the few hours he got to rest were only just enough to recover. He and Barnes had acknowledged their desperate situation and then continued on because they didn't really have a choice. Oscar relieved Barnes of duty for as long as he could stand to be above deck and Barnes for his part went on with very little sleep. After a few days stationary in the brilliant aqua of Rome’s glassy sea they had decided they couldn’t wait longer for Zolf to recover. Oscar had nervously called up a wind. It was erratic and blustery and only Barnes skill allowed them to harness it and journey onwards.
Oscar pulled the second blanket over himself and then fell asleep almost as soon as his eyes closed. Then sometime later, he jolted awake and out of the bed. His heartbeat sounded loud in his ears and a tune came into his head. It started to cross his lips. It was the song Oscar had used to mortally wound Bosie. He took a deep breath. He didn’t remember what he had been dreaming, if he even had been… he thought he’d have been too tired to dream; he'd a little bit been counting on it. Oscar took deep breaths to try to calm his shaking hands. It had been awhile since he had dwelled on that night. He dreamed of Bosie often, sometimes pleasantly, but more often not. And Ross had sometimes joined those nightmares.
Still trying to calm his breathing he looked at the bunk and it’s occupant. It wasn’t tossed the way that it was when he woke from nightmares but poking out from the blanket was Zolf’s metal foot. Oscar laughed, a little manically, if he had rolled over on that he might well have thought it an attack. Oscar hadn’t seen Zolf remove the prostheses more than a few times in their time traveling together and knew he only did so when he decided they were secure in their lodging. Oscar probably should have removed them earlier though he had been reluctant to touch Zolf more than necessary to care for him and removing his legs seemed to cross some line. He frowned, unsure and then after a moment decided it might be for the best.
He pulled the blanket from Zolf and then gently, gingerly rolled the leg back and forth trying to figure out how to disconnect them. They were not simple. He tested a few things and then… after his investigation was starting to feel too invasive there was the click of a latch and the piece slid free. The other was a match and came free as well.
When Oscar laid down again he was still full of an energy that made it impossible to sleep. Eventually he curled up at the foot of the bunk, Zolf, as broad as he was, was only half the length. The security of that little distance allowed Oscar to sleep fitfully. It was days before Oscar tried lying down beside Zolf again. As far as Oscar could tell, Zolf hadn’t moved an inch other than what the rocking of the ship had produced. Something twisted up inside him again, pleading him to flee, to turn around and face his certain betrayal, to stop the knife descending. Oscar lay there stubbornly. Knowing, knowing, that he was safe. Hoping. Maybe it was the Roman water that was cursed. Blue veins? Turquoise veins. The absurdity was beyond reasonable. He was so tired though that he pulled his notebook free of the coat that he had flung on the chair. Perhaps writing it down would bring him some peace. Oscar wrote himself a note to consider some of his more outlandish theories of transmission a second time. And then he crossed his arms and set one foot on the floor and closed his eyes. He was fine, he was safe. Zolf wouldn’t betray him because he wasn’t infected. He could trust him.
Zolf opened his eyes. His whole body ached, the sort of ache that belonged to hard labor, and long stillness. He lifted a hand and wiped at his face; his joints felt full of grit. He was staring at the upward curve of the inside hull, but the angle of a cross beam seemed wrong, different from how he remembered the arrangement in his own cabin. And then he concluded, this must not be my cabin. He didn’t remember why… Ah, a hangover. It felt very much like waking from the worst hangovers he’d endured in his life, many of which had been shipboard. His mouth was dry. His hand stroked down his beard, it was untied. He rubbed at his eyes again and sighed. But if he had been put to bed there was no reason it wouldn’t have been in his own. There was something solid and warm behind him. He felt the slight rise and fall of someone breathing, asleep at his back. In a small panic, he wriggled to turn over without touching whoever it was. Zolf found himself staring at the brown wavy locks of hair on the back of Wilde’s head.
Surprise swept through him, he must have made a sound because the man stirred, minutely. Zolf shifted away until he was pressed against the wall. The closeness of Wilde was unexpected though not entirely uncomfortable. He had no memory of the previous... he assumed night... and could think of no situation which would have put him here of all places.
Zolf sat up fully and was struck with a bout of dizziness. He lowered himself back down and scrunched his eyes closed, hands pressed against them as his head pounded. He tried to channel positive energy and found that his call wasn’t answered. Ah, yes, of course, Wilde’s bunk was squarely in an anti magic field.
Once the dizzy spell had passed Zolf took a breath and instead of trying to leave the situation he tried to figure out exactly what was going on. He was sharing Wilde’s bunk, the two of them squeezed into the too narrow space. Wilde was practically perched on the very edge, stiff, even in apparent sleep. It was as though he had been trying to give Zolf his personal space even though there was no room to actually do so. Zolf tried to remember what had come before but it was like trying to hold water with in his hands. The last thing he remembered clearly was the days long storm and fighting the kraken and going overboard. Then the water had changed, it had become turquoise and warm and he couldn't tell if that was a remembrance or a dream.
He tried to prop himself on an elbow but even that verticality only made him want to be sick so he gave up on that and instead laid on his side staring at the back of Wilde’s head. The only conclusion he could come to was that he had been gravely ill or injured in a way that only the anti-magic field could protect him.
Eventually Wilde stirred. He levered himself up to sitting and wiped sleepily at his face.
He glanced at Zolf and then away and then quickly back again after realizing Zolf was conscious and looking at him. “You’re awake!” His voice was full of relief.
“Yes, I… how long have I been out, I’m not sure I remember fully what happened.”
Wilde shifted so that he sat sideways on the edge of the bed to better face Zolf. “Ten days, I think… the first few days were difficult to keep track of. You went in the drink in Roman waters. We aren’t sure what was actually wrong but the little ability I have for healing wasn’t enough to keep you conscious. You would wake briefly but not remain so. We were worried it would get worse so that’s why you are here in my bunk.”
“Right, the anti-magic field.” Zolf understood, it was extremely sensible.
Wilde started to reach out a hand but returned it to his lap. “How do you feel?”
“Hungover, really very hungover.” Zolf said honestly.
Wilde stood, he was mostly dressed, though he wasn’t wearing a coat and his shirt was untucked and wrinkled. Then Wilde snapped his fingers impatiently and both his shirt and the tangle his hair were perfectly arranged. He crossed the two paces to the desk and picked up a flask and cup and poured some water. He brought it back to the bed and handed it to Zolf. Zolf propped himself up on an elbow and took it from Wilde’s hand. Their fingers overlapped briefly. Wilde stepped away again quickly.
“We’ve been sharing for ten days then?” Zolf asked after a long drink from the cup.
Oscar shrugged and nodded.
Zolf looked at him piercingly, “You don’t look like you’ve slept a wink.”
“I’ve been helping Barnes as much as I can.”
“Of course. Has it been getting worse then?”
“Do I look so terrible? It was strange in Rome and I never really recovered from that. In the field I can sleep but it doesn’t really get better now.”
Zolf nodded. He held out the cup, which was now empty. “More?” Oscar asked, taking it back.
“No,” Zolf sat up more fully, he paled briefly before swallowing. Oscar glanced around for his bucket, all too familiar with the signs of seasickness, but it passed before Oscar had it unclipped from it’s place. “If you can help me up I think I have a spell to cure whatever was wrong with me. I just have to get out of the anti-magic field.” He had a hand pressed into the thin mattress to steady himself as he swung his legs to the edge of the bed. Then he realized that his prostheses were missing.
“I hope it’s not an intrusion to have removed them, you kicked me once.”
Zolf laughed. “It’s fine, I usually take them off to sleep if I don’t fear needing to suddenly make a run for it. Which I mostly have the last few months.”
“They’re just here.” Oscar bent and pulled them from where he had tucked them behind the leg of his desk. Zolf fussed with the sockets until the connections were aligned and latched. He swayed just enough that Oscar extended a hand in support, though he left it hovering just by his shoulder without touching Zolf. After a moment's hesitation, Oscar moved his hand, offering it instead for Zolf to take if he liked.
“Sorry, a bit dizzy.” Zolf put his hand in Oscar’s and rose from the bed. As soon as Zolf took the single step necessary to leave the bounds of the field Oscar could feel it: healing magic soaked into him. The background symptoms that he had learned to ignore for the last ten days lifted. Oscar closed his eyes and took the little bit of joy he could in it. The curse at bay and his own magic thrumming in him. The reprieve was as short as the time Zolf remained casting his spell. When his hand left, Oscar, attuned now to the feeling of that miniscule leeching, recognized the return of his curse.
“Get some sleep Oscar.”
“I’m glad you’re alright, we were worried when you didn’t wake after a few days.”
“Takes more than a kraken to get rid of me.” Zolf smiled.
“Barnes will be happy. He’s been thoroughly discouraged by my progress in my sailing lessons.”
Zolf chuckled and left the cabin.
Oscar laid down and luxuriated in the return of his bunk, hard and horrible as it was. He was asleep almost immediately.
Zolf climbed to the deck and sighed. He had disspelled the distorted magic he had found and then cured himself of his exhaustion and few leftover physical symptoms while still in Wilde’s cabin. He’d spent as much on healing Wilde who was as near a wreck as Zolf had ever seen him.
“Oi, You’re up, about time.” Zolf turned to see Barnes at the helm.
“Leave off, didn’t see you swimming in Rome.”
“Wilde told you then.”
“Not much, and I didn’t press him, he seemed absolutely exhausted.”
“Yeah, he’s been worried about you. He’s barely slept, as far as I can tell.”
Zolf stopped a few strides from Barnes. Barnes had dark circles under his eyes and seemed to be holding the wheel to remain standing upright. He was swaying but it was difficult to tell how much of that was exhaustion and how much was the ship pitching in the waves. There was a strong wind and the sails were billowing and full.
“Are you alright?” Zolf asked.
“I wouldn’t mind sleeping for a week.” Barnes grinned lopsided.
Zolf shook his head, smiling grimly, “can’t give you that long I’m afraid.”
“Five hours? Gods, what wouldn’t I do to sleep five hours.”
“Go, take as much as you can. I’ll get you when I can’t continue.” Zolf stepped up to take the helm. “What’s the heading?”
“Due East, best you can.”
“Right. Come here.” Zolf reached out and laid a hand on Barnes arm. He didn’t wash away all the exhaustion with magic, Barnes would find sleep difficult if it all disappeared, but he took some of it.
“Gods, I missed that. Keep an eye. I think I’ve seen sails to our North and West. I don’t think I’d like to meet anyone if we can avoid it. Not with how previous encounters have gone.”
Zolf turned to look, peering across the horizon for the hint of a sail. “Right, nor would I. Have you let Wilde know?”
Barnes shook his head. “No, I’m still not even sure I’ve seen them. Or that they are even following. I just have a bad feeling.”
Zolf nodded solemnly. “I know what you mean. I guess get some rest while you can.”
Barnes had already turned away and raised his hand in acknowledgment as he started down the ladder, leaving Zolf on deck alone.