Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They both stormed out of the studio, one after the other, mere moments after the meeting ended. Beau was likely mostly only storming after him, and although they both knew that, she remained a worthy ally when prompted. When the door didn’t slam as satisfyingly as anticipated, she opened it and slammed it again, throwing a lewd gesture at the security guard for good measure. Still, only a block later, Beau seemed to deflate and freeze.

“What, no…We were storming off! ” Fjord complained, stopping by the wall with her and folding his arms as she lit a cigarette. “Thought you were quitting," he grumbled darkly toward the lit end.

She glared at him and took a long drag.

“I just give up," she complained. 

Somehow, he didn't think they were talking about the smoking. "Don’t you? We always do this. We argue and fight with her, try to make her see reason, and then we go. It’s been that way the whole time. You don’t even remember.

Fjord sighed, reaching out to take her cigarette. She shook her head at him. “Nope,” she declared. “You did quit. I’m not helping you relapse."

"It's hardly 'relapsing' to just —" he started. 

Her signature glare, the withering gaze she didn't always know she was wearing, stopped him short. Even after all this time, Beau could be menacing if he wasn't careful.

"I'm done, too," he agreed. "But I'm not giving up. This has to be the last one, Beau. Even the most loyal fans are not going to keep coming back if she doesn't even want to write something new." 

She laughed at him loudly, making two people passing by look at them in confusion. 

“First of all,” she declared, “you know that isn't true.”

“I’m serious. I can’t keep organizing these fucking tours and pretending this is fine.”

“And second,” she continued, ignoring him as she pushed off the wall. “If you actually care about the variety of the shows....” 

But now it was his turn to interrupt. He righted himself quickly and literally covered her mouth with his hand. A moment after she licked his palm, he finally let go, wiping his hand on his jeans and cursing Jester for teaching her that trick. Beau had definitely not worked that one out on her own.

“Shut up," he whined. "Please. Stop. Right now. Let’s not do this. We are the only two not fighting right now, Beauregard.”

“Technically," she countered, "I don’t think Caleb even knows yet. And Nott is so much happier on the road that you know she won’t care.”

Fjord sighed, rubbing his temples. “So I'm the only one who cares? This is all because of me? Is that what you mean?" 

“No!” she shouted. “No. You...you did what you had to do! We all...we all appreciate you for that, you know that. And you’re probably right. The revenue is down. There’s been no new merch in like three years."

"Why do I feel like I'm already upset that you just said 'you're right'," he grumbled. 

"Well…." 

"Beau." 

"It’s such an easy fix! We can control everything," she insisted. 

“No.” Fjord grabbed her arm to make her stop walking. “That's what she wants you to believe. What he wants you to believe."

"We'll be there this time. It won't be the same." 

"Seriously, Beau. Out of the question.”

“It's two shows, Fjord,” she sighed. “Two shows in an itty coastal town no one cares about, and we're free from it all of it—”  

“I won't do it. At best, it's selling out. Vandren would kill me.”

Beau sighed at him, put a heavy hand on his chest, and put her smoke out at her feet. “Babe. Vandren isn't here.”

“Don’t I know it,” he muttered. She knew she'd won. He could already feel the tension building in his shoulders. She was right, and he hated it. There was no way they ended this without just agreeing to the original terms. She knew it the second she looked back at him. She smiled a sad, resigned smile. 

“If we do it, we can demand a proper roadie bus this time?”

“Yeah. Fine,” he sighed. "Can we at least pretend it'll be a coach and not a bus ?”

“Roadie Coach!” Beau tried to cheer. Fjord slapped her head gently before taking her coffee. He’d pay for it later, but right now, he needed it more than she did. 

Four weeks later, he was twenty-four tour meetings, seven-hundred-and-ten emails, and several thousand hours of phone deep into his regret. He should not have agreed to manage this one. His heart wasn’t in it, his mind was living six months from now when it was all over, and most importantly, there was dissent in the ranks of his most loyal crew. He didn’t want to do it without them, but he had to admit that if they didn’t work some shit out soon, he was going to have to investigate some replacements. 

He’d finally found some time between phone meetings to grab a shower in his own frigging flat, and the hot water had been primed through running it for too long to be eco friendly. He was going to stand under that stream until it ran out if it was the last thing he did. He’d paid so much in water tax in this stupid place and he was literally never home. A fact that was made clear to him five minutes into his shower when Beau stormed into the flat and directly into the bathroom. 

“Fjord!” she shouted, her unmistakable accent adding a twang to his name he still wasn’t tired of.

“Beauregard, a little privacy. For the sake of all that is holy. I’ll be out...soon.”

“Whatever,” she returned. A peek through the curtain informed him that she had settled herself in a signature crouch on the closed toilet and was going nowhere. He sighed loudly enough for her to look up. “What!? I have things to tell you, and it’s not like I’m interested in anything that’s going on in there. You just go ahead and do what you need to. Nothing I haven’t heard before, Captain .”

He scowled at her for good measure but relented. It wasn’t going to accomplish anything to try and get her to leave, and he was wasting the heat. “Alright, what’s so important.”

“Caleb’s agreeing to come,” she said loudly. “But he demanded his own set of noise-cancelling headphones because he says if he’s expected to work a tour and finish his dissertation, he can’t be—and I quote— ‘constantly awoken by you laut arschlochs’.”  

Fjord laughed. “I am pretty sure that can be arranged. I really don’t want to be trusting anyone else with the lighting and pyrotechnics. Does that mean Nott will come too?”

“She said if Caleb gets headphones, she wants a personal bar in her seat. And free access to every stage a full twenty-four hours before they’re performing. None of this ‘90 minutes for outside crew bullshit’.”

“I already got everyone on board with that,” Fjord growled, knowing he wasn’t loud enough to be heard over the water. “Fine. And Molly?”

“Still a no. Says they're not coming if Caleb is coming, and that they can’t leave their job right now.”

Fjord cursed loudly and gave up on peaceful showering. He washed the soap from his hair and ripped the curtain open. Beau innocently held a towel out to him and he pointedly rubbed it through his hair first. 

“I tried,” she said defensively. “I really did. Don’t fuck anyone on tour. It’s a simple rule. This is why.”

“Yeah, well…” Fjord grumbled. “Speaking of...Yasha?”

Beau’s face darkened immediately and she stood so violently that Fjord had to stop himself from backing up into the tub. He always forgot how dangerous it could be to piss Beauregard off until he was face to face with it. But she simply huffed out a hot breath, gave him the finger, and stormed from the bathroom.

“Unnecessarily low blow, asshole.”

“Yeah, fine. Sorry.” He wrapped his towel around his waist and followed her out. When she spun to face him, he held up his hands defensively.

“She’s going to meet us at the first big city. I can handle it until then. And stop making that face at me. I can. We managed without a motherfucking ‘ head of security’. And also—enough, with the Yasha stuff. It’s...it’s complicated enough as it is.”

He smiled sadly. “I know, Beau. I do. I really am sorry. Is Jester—”

Beau’s face brightened a fraction as she smiled back. “Yeah, positively pumped. Apparently, she redesigned the t-shirt again this week, but her majesty actually approved it so all the merch is in production and will be ready. And she’s making some sort of set banner.”

“So we get to play a game of ‘find the hidden dicks’,” he replied with a chuckle. “I’m so glad she’s around.”

“Yeah,” Beau smiled, the blush that hit her cheeks only evident because he knew her so well. He chose to ignore it. Regardless of whatever tension Beau was going to both create and then have to negotiate, he was very happy they’d have Jes along. She was secretly his favourite — very secretly, to the point where it was possible even she didn’t know, but that was beside the point.

“So like, not that I don’t appreciate the visit,” he said, drying his hair with a second towel, “but this all feels like it could have been a text message?”

Beau sighed, collapsing onto the sofa. “Yeah. That part, definitely. Go put on some pants and then I’ll tell you the rest.”

“Pants.”

“Pants,” she repeated.

He screamed gently into the air, already anticipating the worst, and pulled on the sweats he’d found before hitting the shower. “Alright, pants on. What did she do now?”

“Not her,” Beau winced. 

“Oh, God. No,” Fjord grimaced back.

“‘Fraid so. Q wants you to meet a new wellness coach. Swears he’ll be essential on the trip. Won’t come unless you put him on the roadie bus. You know. The usual.”

“And Ley is, of course, agreeing to this?”

“When has she ever said no when Q is involved. Shirt next. We’re going now.”

“Going where?” Fjord groaned. 

“The bus!” she offered. “You like the bus.”

“I like the bus when it contains only the people I hire,” Fjord moaned. “I dislike it when the bus is full of the weird hippies our esteemed bass player likes to befriend.”

“Ain’t our lives interesting?” Beau teased. “Shirt. Let’s go.” 

Chapter Text

Thankfully, the constant London drizzle that was October seemed to have decided to give them a break for the afternoon, so he and Beau were dry when they finally emerged from the tube and hit the rented lot where the coach was still parked. 

Even if he lived to regret every other component of this concert tour, Beau was right; Fjord really liked the bus. The coach might just be his biggest career win. It was only thirty feet long, meaning it was dwarfed significantly by the giant, violently purple monstrosity that the band travelled in, but both bore the silver lettering declaring The Bright Queen on tour , so he'd live with Jester’s frequent dick size-related jokes.

Despite the fact that the crew coach looked pedestrian by design, Fjord considered it every bit as perfect. There were spaces for all six of them to sleep, a tiny kitchen, places for them to sit, if not overly comfortably, at least all at once for when the time required it. He’d even managed to convince the studio to hire a driver, so he, Caleb, and Beau wouldn’t have to trade off the many hours of driving they normally did. It was miraculous. The luxury of the inside reminded him every time that his little trio band had actually made it; they were so far beyond the days of Beau managing the unruly Leylas Kryn and her incredible talent into every coffee house stage from here to the end of the continent. Fjord didn’t know where the time had gone.

“Stop it,” Beau said, punching him hard in the arm.

“Ow! Stop what!”

“You’re getting sappy. I can feel it from here. Stop being weird.”

“I’m not weird, you’re weird,” he mumbled, pulling open the door of the carriage and wincing as he heard the loud, abrasive laugh of Quana. He steeled himself and stepped up the two short steps. 

He found her sitting with her back to him, her long, dark purple hair shaking over the back of the bench seat as she laughed heartily at the man sitting across from her. The huge man sitting across from her. Even sitting, Fjord could tell that he had to be at least 6’6, possibly taller. He had a shock of bubblegum pink curls that flowed down a white, pirate-appropriate shirt on one side, and ended in a smoothly shaved undercut on the other. Fjord wouldn’t have been surprised to find a pink beard as well, though further quick glances found a clean-shaven face and wide, kind-looking brown eyes. Fjord was immediately aware of two things. One, he wasn’t entirely sure why this man, this giant , was agreeing to spend six-months on a cramped coach bus. 

And two, that the Nein would eat this poor, peaceful human alive. 

Still, polite to a fault, Fjord stepped into the bus fully, hand already extended. “Afternoon, Quana,” he said too loudly. “Hi, there...uh, sir. I’m Fjord.”

The man stood up, bending his head slightly to stand up fully and proving that he did, in fact, have at least a half a foot on him. “Caduceus Clay. Lovely to finally meet you, Mr Fjord. I’ve been hearing great things about the whole Bright Queen crew. Hullo again, Beauregard.”

“Hey, Cad. Hey Q.”

Q, who spent as little time talking to Beau as was humanly possible, merely inclined her head, barely acknowledging their presence as usual.

“Mr Clay will be joining us for the European leg of our tour. To take over from Mr Tealeaf.”

“Quana,” Fjord declared, letting enough of his authority out that she looked at him sharply. “Q, we’ve talked about this. If you don’t let me do the hiring, then—”

“Fjord here has gotten it into his head that he’s in charge,” Q sneered, looking back at Clay with a quirked eyebrow. He blinked at her, then smiled a strange, placid smile that didn’t seem to quite fit his face or quite reach his eyes.

“Forgive me,” he said innocently. “I thought you had said he was the band manager.”

“He is,” Beau supplied jovially, crossing her arm in a clear challenge. 

“Oh, then he’s right,” Clay continued, that same bland, unperturbed tone settled into his deep voice. “He does the hiring. It’s quite alright. I have my references if he needs them. I don’t want to cause any discomfort. You can go, Ms Kryn. I’ll call you later with that oat recipe.” 

Fjord waited on bated breath for Quana’s reply; he knew her well enough to know that there had been enough tone in the entire conversation to piss her off. No one ever dared talk to her that way. In fact, even Ley rarely interjected when it came to Q. She was too irritating to deal with when pissed off, though even Fjord had to admit she could really use some humility every once in a while. She opened her mouth a few times, as though trying to decide on a reaction. She studied Clay for a moment, then took a deep breath and nodded. She intentionally pushed past Fjord and sneered when Beau expertly manoeuvred herself out of the way.

“See you at practice tomorrow, you two,” she said sourly. 

“Now then,” Clay said the second she was off the bus. “Can I get you two some tea?”

“S-sorry, some...what?” Fjord hadn’t been offered tea since he was about eleven and sitting, against his will, in his adoptive gran’s grim flat, waiting for Vandren to pick him up from a late-night supply run. 

“Tea,” Clay repeated, apparently unbothered by Fjor’s confused fluster. “I brought some of my own blend. It’s quite good for hot days.”

Beau agreed immediately, vaulting herself over the back of the leather bench and settling in beside an unmoving window. She immediately looked at ease, as Beau often did when she wasn’t trying to talk to a pretty girl. Fjord took a deep breath and forced himself to sit. Better to get the interview over with quickly so he could move on with his day. There was no way he was taking a complete stranger with them for what was absolutely going to be his last tour, so he might as well make that clear right away.

“So, Mr Clay,” he began, “have you been on many tours?”

Caduceus laughed as he puttered about with the electric kettle on the sideboard. It was a deep, hearty sound, so intense and genuine that it seemed like it should be rattling the bus, even though it definitely wasn’t. Fjord found himself even more baffled. He’d asked what he assumed was the expected first question. Either he was really off his managerial game, or this man was completely nuts. 

After a moment’s chuckle, Clay cleared his throat. “Goodness, no. This is the farthest I’ve ever been out of Cardingham.”

“Cardingham?” Fjord repeated, his brain furiously trying to place and make sense of the new information. “You...but you, uh, you don’t have an..forgive me, you sound like you’re…”

“Canadian?” Clay laughed again. “Yes. I get that a lot. It’s...complicated.”

From someone else, Fjord might have been unnerved by this explanation-less explanation, but for whatever reason, he found himself smiling at Beau, who shrugged and smiled back. There was a possibility that Fjord was just going to have to take this whole interaction as it was. It was clearly not going to be an information-gathering mission worth much. He had no idea what was happening right now. This was not like him, especially when it came to the band. He didn’t get flustered. He didn’t stutter or hesitate. He tried again.

“Right. Well then. I mean...I can’t promise the glamour you’ve seen on the telly.”

“I wouldn’t really know what you mean by that. Never had one,” Caduceus declared, quietly placing a cup in front of all three of them. “Not much by way of electricity where I grew up. I met Quana at a retreat.”

“I figured,” Beau added genially. She grinned as Clay set some tea in front of them and went back for his own cup. “I mean no offence here, but...you aren’t the first she’s—” 

“Beau,” Fjord interjected. “Listen, she collects people, our Q. It’s innocent enough, but I’ll be honest with you, your job description will always remain vague at best. The pay is shit, and you’ll have to be comfortable living here . In this bus, for the most part. There will never be privacy or enough room. We do a few scattered nights in hotels, I guess, but mostly it's gruelling hours and not much downtime.”

“Understood,” Clay replied, sitting down from them. His knees almost touched both Beau and Fjord, as if to highlight Fjord’s point. He shrugged, lifting his tea to his lips. 

“Why would you want to do that?” Fjord pressed.

Clay set his mug back down and templed his fingers in front of his face. His eyes projected such a quiet, calm in their over-large deep brown way that Fjord was tempted to think he was currently meditating. 

“Adventure?” he finally settled on, softly dropping his hands to the table and fixing a firm yet encouraging gaze on Fjord. His small smile was still there, like Fjord was expected to answer a test question that had no correct answer. 

Fjord looked at Beau. For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t reading this situation very well. He felt uncomfortable and supported at the exact same time, content and exasperated in equal measure. He had no idea how to proceed. She grinned at him and he knew she had felt the exact same way upon meeting this man. She stuck her hand out to Clay and smiled at Fjord. 

“Welcome to the team, Cad. Prepare yourself for the insanity of the Nein.”

Clay’s face broke into a wide grin. This time, the smile asked no one of anything. Fjord realized, now that the tension was gone, that this gigantic, pleasant human had actually been nervous to meet him, and he almost felt guilty for a moment before remembering that he’d worked hard to build up this very important reputation. 

“Why ‘the nine’?” Clay asked a moment later. “I thought the band was called ‘The Bright Queen’?”

“Well…” Fjord began, looking to Beau for help. 

“You know, Cad—wait, can I call you that? Cad? Don’t do well with long names... Cad, it’s like this. There’s a story. It’s a long story. And basically no one remembers it. This tea is fucking amazing, man.”

“Thank you,” Caduceus said, as genuine as he had been since the beginning, but also seeming to have a slight blush that was only just creeping past his ears. He smiled at her again. 

“She means it. If you don’t tell her now, she will call you Cad for all eternity.”

“Cad is just fine by me,” he replied, taking another sip of his tea.

Fjord smiled; they had a crew. It was as bizarre as the crew had always been, and it was going to be just as disastrous as it always was. But, he looked around the coach that may actually be slightly larger than his apartment (for now, while it wasn’t holding six regular-sized humans and now this behemoth), he felt like they’d all survive this. 

At least one last time.

Chapter Text

Brunch was already in full swing when Fjord finally arrived at The Breakfast Club. Caduceus had waited quite comfortably outside, watching subtly as the scene through the window unfolded. He recognized Beauregard, of course, and the cacophony of noise that appeared as the other members of the crew showed up put him at ease. He could practically feel the love through the glass. He knew he was making the right decision, the perfect plan. He was satisfied that everything was okay. Which made it complicated for him that he’d waited for the manager before going in. 

He was swinging his keys in his hands when he noticed Caduceus was standing sheepishly in the door, watching his approach, trying not to startle him as he arrived; he was clearly distracted with a million tiny problems, his furrowed brow marring otherwise smooth face that made him seem younger than Caduceus figured he was. No doubt stress, lack of sleep, this job that relied on midnight shows and constant travel had taken their toll on the man, it’s just that they appeared to show up in other ways. Fjord, Caduceus had noticed in their brief greeting, had very tired-looking hands, grey hairs at the base of his neck where the green dye had faded, and a nervous jiggle to his leg that was likely just from too much caffeine. He’d earned his distraction, though, which forgave him missing the giant, pink-haired man who was quite clearly waiting for him.

“Oh, Mr Clay. Morning. Are they not here yet - oh no, they are. Come on in. Sorry, we’re you waiting long? I should have texted Beau...ran late. Car is not as reliable as it has been. Don’t exactly do a great job of keeping it up to service.”

Caduceus chuckled and held open the door. “I wasn’t waiting long. I just don’t always know how to introduce myself. Figured I would...wait.”

Fjord looked at him then, and there was such a look of complicated understanding there that he wanted to reach out and pat his shoulder. He only just managed not to, which even of itself felt odd. He didn’t usually refrain from his impulsivity. It had always served him well.

“Sorry, Mr Fjord,” he said. “I should have just gone in.”

Now, it was Fjord’s turn to chuckle. The tension immediately broke between them, and Fjord reached over to clap him on the shoulder.

“Just Fjord, please,” he replied. “There’s really no need to apologize. Trust me, you’re going to wish you had waited another ten years once you’ve me this lot.”

But he ended his very large breakfast of pancakes and mushrooms and a few extra slices of orange that he stole from the tops of people’s smoothies not feeling any regret at all. In fact, he sat back from the table and grinned.

“You know,” he said, possibly interrupting at least one squabble in favour of having them all turn to look at him. “I think we are going to have quite a good time on this adventure,” he declared. 

The tiny woman, the one called Nott, whose job description he did not really understand yet, sat up and raised her coffee mug to the table.

“You’re very strange, sir,” she said. “But, I think I like you. To a good time on the adventure!”

“Huzzah?” Caleb, the ginger-haired sad man to her left chimed in. 

As the table joined in and clinked glasses with him, Caduceus watched Fjord smile the first genuine smile he’d seen yet. 

“Yup. An excellent time,” he muttered to himself. 

Chapter Text

Caduceus, not used to having to learn new things about anyone, realized very quickly that he was going to be at a disadvantage for a little while while he got used to being on the bus. The realization came immediately and without preamble when he arrived at the meeting spot at eight in the morning the Thursday after brunch. 

He was met by Caleb, who was leaning on the side of the coach, with the luggage compartment open and a cigarette sticking out of his mouth. He looked almost like he was trying to be intimidating. It might have worked if it hadn't been for the nervous quiver of his hands. He lifted one in a half wave as Caduceus approached. 

"Hello, Mister Widowgast," Caduceus called instead of returning the gesture. 

"I must insist on Caleb," the man replied, stubbing out his butt and then, with what looked like a healthy dose of guilt, he stooped to pick it up. "Filthy habit," he said apologetically as he rose. "Keep meaning to quit. Will quit. Just need to finish the PhD, I think. Stress is…"

"I have some lovely teas that may help with the cravings," Caduceus offered delicately. 

Caleb smiled tightly, looking around him suddenly. "Would you like help with your other bags? Forgive me, I missed you pulling in." 

"This is it," Caduceus replied, gesturing to his pack.

When he'd left with Quana, he'd been embarrassed by the amount he decided was necessary to his continued existence for the next six months. So many material things would have made his father frown. His old, tattered army bag was bursting to the seams with his crystals and tea assortment, his many pairs of glasses, one extra pair of worn leather shoes, and — most shamefully of all — no fewer than six dog-eared, well-read paperbacks that he'd eventually decided he could not leave behind. 

"Really?" Caleb said, a look of utter confusion on his face. 

"I'm sorry. I can repack if there isn't enough space." 

Caleb burst into shocked laughter, the sound abrupt and disjointed. Caduceus found he liked it. It was so real , so unfiltered. It was the most genuine thing he'd discovered about the man yet, and it went a long way toward making it easier for him to like. 

Caduceus didn't really trust Caleb yet. It was clear that he had baggage, but it was even clearer that he wasn't ready to work through it yet. He was still forcing himself to atone for something, though even now, Caduceus could tell it was more complicated than he was allowing himself to realize. But it didn't matter. Everyone could come to their own person at their own pace. It wasn't his job to determine the paths of others. He simply had to remain on his own.

"No," Caleb said now, suppressing a second chuckle. "Nein, I am sorry. I was just imagining what it will be like when Jester finds out that's all you've brought. Prepare yourself, Baumann."

Caduceus smiled despite himself. "Tree man?" he asked innocently. 

"I meant no offense by— you speak German?" 

"Only a little. But don’t worry, I like it," Caduceus replied mildly. "I've never had a nickname before. Now I have two." 

Caleb smiled shyly and nodded. "Get used to that, I'm afraid. Come. I'll show you where your bunk is." 

The tour introduced him to everyone all over again. How a twenty foot by three foot space could require a tour was a mystery to him, but by the time the driver asked them all to find somewhere to actually sit, he had a better idea of the people he would be spending all his time with than he did of all the cubbies and secret compartments of the bus. 

For example, Nott. Fiercely protective, even from the first moment. Confusing in her own way, but definitely protective first and foremost. A mother, perhaps? She was running, that was for sure, though he'd not figured out if it was from or to. Not that it mattered.

Her position on the team was similarly opaque. He had gotten some vague answers from the crew when he'd asked, and Fjord had more than once jokingly said something about "powder monkey", but he was still baffled. She could very well have been there simply as emotional support to Caleb, pyrotechnics manager, and he's have accepted that as a necessary position. Particularly since Caleb was apparently also trying to complete a long-distance research project for his PhD. He'd explained the whole thing to him, but it was based on something complicated that Caduceus had already forgotten. 

Beauregard was the most transparent of the lot, though he could tell she didn't like to think of herself that way. Family issues wrapped in a complex identity problem and a sexuality that she'd only just decided to be secure in. She was also the most open to his help, so they'd get along fine, in the long run. 

This part was easy. Reading people took no skill or time. It was, at least for him, the opposite of what most people thought about the secluded or reclusive. When you don’t spend a lot of time around them, people become simple to understand. Subterfuge and camouflage are meaningless when the emotions and the energy you leave behind in a room are both screaming long after you are gone. 

It was the second step he tended to struggle with. The interacting, the responding . He got too lost in his own feelings about a situation, his own awe at the human nature or spirit of wills. He'd spend ten minutes contemplating how wondrous it was that someone could feel so much at once, and as he did, he'd zone out long enough that conversation and attention had rightly moved on. 

Dealing with the complexities of people was exhausting. 

Fjord stepped onto the coach last, and Caduceus wondered if it was an intentional habit to always be the last to arrive, or if the man was just one of those people that felt on time was early. Either way, it was intriguing in a person that seemed otherwise fastidious and measured. He was hiding something, but not the same way Caleb was. He wasn’t trying to cover up that he was hiding something, he just was. He dared you to ask him about it. Let you wonder who he was underneath the easy smile and quiet authority. Caduceus might have found that more interesting if he wasn’t doing the very same thing most of the time. 

“Alright, everyone settle, for the love of all that is holy,” Fjord called into the bus as he stepped inside. “Okay. So. I make this same speech every time we leave and no one ever actually cares. But I’m doing it again and you’ll all sit quietly while I do or so help me—“

“Beau,” Nott interrupted. “Does he think he seems intimidating when he does this?” 

“Unclear,” Beau replied, feigning deep consideration.  

Fjord sighed, bracing himself on the driver's window divider. “Guys. I’m just trying to…” 

“Sorry!” Jester called out, glaring back at the rest of them from where she was curled up on one of the normal bus seats that doubled as armchairs right at the front. 

In his quick assessment of his new crew, Caduceus had immediately liked Jester. He couldn’t even really say why. She seemed sneaky. She had double meaning in her mouth at all times, and he could tell he was going to have to keep an eye on her almost constantly. But beneath that, there was such genuine goodness, in a style that he had rarely seen in things that weren’t forest creatures. From her bright blue hair to her outrageous jewelry, she exuded a sort of barbed loveliness that warranted protection. She didn’t need his protection, he was pretty sure. She seemed to have been taking care of herself for longer than her age would suggest had been appropriate. But still. The others seemed to feel the same. She cared for them so aggressively that they did the same back. 

Fjord smiled at her and took a slow, deep breath.

“I just wanted to remind you that this is not a normal tour. We don’t have new stuff. We don’t have the openers. We literally serve at the pleasure of the Bright Queen insanity. We’re going to have fanatics. And I know we can handle that, but if anyone gets tired, needs a break, take it. I'm serious. Let’s not have a repeat of the whole...thing.” 

“I feel as though we need to be saying his name,” Caleb added quietly. 

Fjord nodded and cleared his throat. “The situation with Molly was...difficult. And we need to keep that in mind. And we aren’t going to rehash it all, because we are not going to repeat it. Right?” 

Despite the obnoxious, teacher-like tone with which the question was asked, Caduceus was surprised when it was met with nods and avoided gazes. Clearly, he was missing that story. He didn’t feel like he needed it. 

“Clay here is ready to talk to anyone about anything. He’s going to do meals while we’re on the road, because none of you ever fucking eat. And I tried to make the actual 'road' part of the schedule as light as possible. We’re in hotels at least every other night.” 

Nott snickered. “Beau will be happy about that.” 

“Fuck off,” Beau replied, throwing an obscene gesture and a smile to the other woman, who stuck out her tongue. 

“We don’t have Yasha until the next leg, so we’ll all need to step up and help Beau until then,” Fjord continued, ignoring the exchange. “I obviously hired back up for the front of house, but, we all know how Ley gets about outside staff, so…” 

“It’ll be fine, Fjord,” Jester said reassuringly. “We’ll always be backstage. Plus, look how tall the new guy is!” 

“Hey,” Beau protested. “New guy is not a thing we’re going to do. Cad is crew.” 

“I know! I love his hair. I’m going to braid it sooo often,” Jester said, bouncing a bit in her seat and throwing him a beatific grin. He smiled back. He’d be happy to have his hair braided. It had been too long since his sisters had left.

“God, Caduceus, sorry,” Fjord declared, as though suddenly remembering how little information he had. “I’m speaking Greek here.” 

“I’m a quick learner,” Caduceus reassured him, turning his smile to their manager. “Don’t worry about me.” 

Fjord seemed comforted, which made everyone else relax. 

“Well then,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get this the fuck over with, shall we!?” 

And, with no more preamble or consideration, The Bright Queen was back on the road. 

The first two weeks were completely unremarkable. Fjord was already exhausted by the end of the first set of weekend shows, but he figured that was a combination of age and being rusty in the whole ‘staying up till 5 am’ thing. He’d get back into the swing of it and they’d be fine. Though, he was grateful he’d had the forethought to book hotels as much as he could. As wonderful as it was having the bus available, he’d been right. They only just barely fit. The bunks were usable for day naps when they had to check out after three hours of sleep, but they may have murdered each other without a proper bed as often as possible. 

The immediate impact of being back together 24/7 was comforting, even he had to admit. Every other hotel night, he’d wake up to find a puddle of various combinations in the bed opposite him. Beau and Caleb often ended up there first, and he knew it was because neither of them did a very good job of sleeping alone. Even when Beau would mysteriously disappear for a few hours after a show, she’d end up back in the biggest bed to sleep the rest of the night. Nott, who usually ended up as close to Caleb as she could, would curl into the chair in his room. Fjord would grumble, wondering aloud why he’d bothered booking them all separate double rooms, but he not-so-secretly loved knowing where they all were even once the hotel walls divided them. He didn’t trust many people, so it was easier when all the people he did trust were within eye range. 

To his complete delight and utter lack of surprise, Caduceus seemed to fit right in. He was quiet and often waited a long time before adding an opinion to a conversation, but the others listened to him when he spoke — which was nothing short of a miracle. He’d make them bizarre and delicious lunches, which everyone ate without complaint, and there was always a carafe of hot tea available at any given moment. 

Even when Fjord found Frumpkin on board a week in and he’d been ready to fully attack Caleb Caduceus fixed it. Despite the fact that they'd had the conversation about how inappropriate it was to have the cat on board, no matter how small and quiet he was, Caduceus insisted that it was good for morale. For whatever reason, Fjord actually listened and managed to calm down enough to let it go. He was sort of like having a large, sentient teddy bear on board; even Jester was more subdued around him. Fjord quickly grew used to his stabilizing presence, though he’d never admit it to Q if pressed. 

Still, he was braced; he was almost always braced for chaos, in general, but on tour he was never completely capable of calming down. 

Which is why, when Mollymauk showed up right before the start of the Paris show, he was so unsurprised and prepared for shit to hit  the fan that the complete lack of shock almost left him aching.

Chapter Text

"...and I'll be honest with you, sir, though I hardly know you. I am afraid. Afraid of my own obscurity. I think that's why I came back. Well, not back, you understand." 

Caduceus nodded calmly. 

The person talking animatedly in front of him continued undeterred. "I've been in Paris for…many months. I was sure I'd sent a letter to Caleb. But, wait, what was it you asked me again?"

"Well," replied Caduceus, looking down at his chest to take a deep breath. “I merely wondered if you'd purchased a backstage pass."

"Ah, yes. I didn't, no. But I'm sure if you can just grab Yasha, she'll be able to vouch for me. Mollymauk Tealeaf? I promise to be a very good little fanlette and wait right here while you go ask her."

"It's not that I wouldn't, if I could, Mr. Tealeaf," returned Cad, letting his voice drop an octave in gravity. "It's just that Yasha is previously engaged and I had very clear instructions to keep people here unless they had a backstage—" 

"Oh for fuck’s sake. Let me talk to Jes then. Or, is Caleb around? It's not that I'm not impressed with how well you're doing your job, or how tall you are for that matter. But to be perfectly honest, this is fucking insane. I'm family. I'm crew." 

It was true that Caduceus still had very few details about what had happened with this particular purple haired, extremely tattooed individual. Yet he knew that he was making the right decision not letting him in quite yet. He knew the whole team loved Mollymauk; that half of them were at least a little bit in love with them, though even he could admit that his understanding of that was rocky at best. 

Still, he stood here in front of this attempt at an intimidating situation, where he had at least a two foot advantage, and was unsure what step he took next. His usual tactic had worked so far. Deep, slightly challenging voice. Firm insistence. Resolute refusal. It's what Beau had recommended. Her voice chimed in his ear now; 'anything gets more complicated, you call me.'

But, as he stood with his finger on the radio, poised to make the quick call that would absolve him, Mollymauk sighed. 

It was a sound that froze Clay to his spot for a moment. He hadn’t heard a sigh that disappointed and disapproving in many years. It chilled his spine and dragged him forcibly back many years. A time when his own father had wielded that sound like a particularly heavy weapon. Every time it happened, Caduceus could be sure he had done something unsatisfactory. He’d half completed a task before getting distracted by a particularly lovely butterfly. He’d finished dinner and was staring off into space, contemplating his favourite tree seed, when someone was trying to speak to him. He’d neglected a customer in favour of blending some herbs. Whatever the problem, he was sure that his father’s great, heaving disappointed breath would waft down on him before he’d had time to correct it. 

The particular tenure of this sigh now made him angry. He was completely and totally just doing his job. Regardless of what had passed before, there was a solid and indisputable fact in his favour; Molly was not on the bus and Cad was. Whatever else remained true, he knew that he was making the right decision. He needed to see this through, needed Beau— and Fjord, for that matter— to see that he had done his best to stop things from becoming dramatic in ‘the city right before they got Yasha’. The whole crew had been fretting over it for almost a week. 

"Why don't you come with me,” he finally said darkly.

He walked the purple person down the hallway at an unnecessarily quick pace. Which meant that when he found Beau lounging outside the greenroom door, she stood quickly to attention in surprise. He didn’t stick around long enough to find out if the surprise was for his anger or for Mollymauk. He nodded to her once and turned on his heel, walking away quickly. He needed to be outside. Now. 

He passed Nott in the hallway, carrying a multitude of microphone packs and muttering about bad sound guys, and when she looked up at him, he tried to smile back. 

“What’s wrong, Caduceus,” she asked, concerned. 

“Beau probably needs your help. I need some air.” 

She nodded at him solemnly, without asking any further questions, and his heart swelled a tiny bit for the small women and her secrets. 

He took himself to the parking lot, looked at the small bank of trees beyond and made the quick decision to not go there without some tea. Five minutes on the bus fixed that and he had calmed down significantly by the time the concert actually started. These were usually moments he took for himself. The feeling of being anywhere near the crowd and the noise just made him claustrophobic, and since his non-descript job title didn’t expect much of him during the actual shows, he ended up in many parking lots. 

Hours passed by. The concert goers eventually streamed past him, headed to the metro or their cars parked half a mile away. The bus was in a back, cordoned off area, but it didn’t stop the excited crowd from mingling in forgotten areas, drunken or excited French washing over him. He figured he probably needed to go and get to the hotel. It had to be late, and he would be needed in whatever the band decided was called morning. Quana demanded odd things the morning after a city show; whole kumquats on a plate, buckwheat smoothies. It was never hard to find the things he need to, but he’d need to be ready for it. 

He pulled his folding chair back to the bus and threw it unceremoniously into the luggage rack. He was still unsettled, but he was Clay; he could tuck that away. 

To his surprise, he found Fjord sitting in the lobby of the hotel, a mug held precariously balanced on the arm of an extravagant plush arm-chair. He approached quietly, sat down gently across from him. The look of frustrated contemplation he found begged not to be disturbed, and yet he couldn’t quite find it in himself to leave well enough alone. 

As though coming out of a trance, Fjord shook himself slightly and gave a tight, weary smile to Clay as he noticed him.

“Surprised to find you here so early, Mr Fjord. Show go okay?” 

Fjord shrugged. “It’s Paris. Nothing ever goes wrong in Paris.” 

“Glad to hear it,” Caduceus continued softly. He sat back in his chair and he waited. 

Fjord put down his mug and rubbed at his temples, leaning back as well. 

"I'll be honest, Clay. Molly turning up wasn't exactly what any of us needed right now."

“I kinda figured that,” he continued. 

Fjord closed his eyes. “A head’s up would have been appreciated, that’s all. I, uh, I ran into Nott screaming in the hallway five minutes to curtain instead.” 

“I...oh,” Caduceus replied. He was such an idiot. He had been so wrapped up in his own shit, he hadn’t even thought. “Of course. I’m sorry.” 

Fjord nodded and sat up. Picked up his tea again. He gestured to a pot Caduceus hadn’t noticed before and watched as he poured himself a cup. The terse offer was confusing, but it seemed that he’d been told to stay, and Caduceus wasn’t about to do anything to make the evening worse.

Fjord was being short with Clay and he honestly didn't know why. They hadn't even been on the road together, Clay and Molly. None of the tension in the air was because of the bubblegum man. If he were a good manager, he would be explaining as best he could and then reassuring the very new member of his crew. Truthfully, there wasn’t going to be any big drama; Mollymauk wasn’t staying, he’d see to that, and really, even the original leaving hadn’t been anyone’s fault. They’d all learned lessons on that last tour. It was going to be fine. Fjord tried taking a deep breath and sat back again. 

Clay took a long sip of tea. No one should look as relaxed as he did on a hotel lobby chair, across from an agitated manager. But then, Caduceus looked relaxed everywhere he went. He owned spaces. It made Fjord jealous sometimes, since he literally never felt that at home. 

"This Mollymauk seems to be complicated for everyone," Cad said gently. "I confess, I find it confusing. They seem a bit…did they leave you behind too?" 

Fjord considered the odd and perfectly Caduceus question. Was that was he was upset? He wasn’t even sure, if he was honest with himself. 

"I mean, in a way, they left us all behind." 

"No, I meant. Is your history here as complicated as Caleb's?" 

"What, with Molly? God...no. I mean, no. I just...uh, Mollymauk is—well, I mean, they're just not exactly my type." 

Fjord cleared his throat as quietly as he could. His mouth was suddenly dry and he desperately wished he hadn't finished his tea so quickly. 

"Well, that makes sense," Clay agreed, nodding sagely. "Beau told me about Avantika."

Fjord choked on what little spit he had remaining. "She what?"

"Well," Clay continued. "I think she just needed someone to talk to. It was last week. She couldn’t sleep. She worries about you, you know. She's like...well, if you're the captain, she's your first mate, right? She told me about Avantika breaking your—"

Fjord inhaled so sharply that his nostrils cried in protest, but it seemed enough to make Caduceus pause, so he spit out his objection before he lost the will. He had no idea how much or what parts of this story Beau had spilled out to Clay in one of her late night, insomnia-fuelled stupor, but he was confident that all of it was more than he’d wanted him to know. 

"Listen, Cad," he said as calmly as he could manage. "I'm not sure what you were told, but let's be clear here. Avantika is responsible for destroying Beau's career. And maybe also my reputation with the label. That's it. Nothing else." 

Caduceus peered at him with those tell all eyes, and it was all he could do not to drag him down to sit beside him on the floor of the lobby and spill out the entire story. They locked eyes for an eternity. Or, what amounted to a few seconds, in reality. 

"Okay," Caduceus returned finally. His normal nonchalance seemed to be missing. His cheeks had colour he’d never noticed before, and he looked at the ground right after he spoke. 

"Seriously," Fjord reiterated. 

Clay looked up at him, imploring. When he spoke again, his calm demeanor had returned. He was unreadable when he replied. 

"I should know better than to listen to gossip. So... Molly being here. Do we need to worry about Caleb?"

"...Yeah, probably," Fjord said more forcefully than he'd meant to. He was suddenly very, very tired. "Caduceus, is your room okay? You'll be comfortable and everything?"

"Of course. I'm not fussy about—"

"Excellent," he interrupted. "I'm pretty wiped. I'm going to turn in. G'night." 

"I...okay. Goodnight, Mister Fjord."

"I....yeah, okay. Goodnight." 

He backed away from the hallway, leaving a baffled member of his crew behind. But he couldn't help it. He needed to get away. Away from Clay, and conversations about Avantika, and the considerable concern brought on by Molly's sudden appearance. Not that he wasn't happy to see them. Technically, this was a good thing. The whole crew together again! But Yasha would be back any day, and the last time Molly had unceremoniously abandoned them... 

Fjord cursed quietly to himself all the way up the lift. He clenched his fists. He paced. He understood as little as Clay likely did about why he'd so abruptly abandoned their perfectly civil conversation about the well being of a dear friend. The undertones of whatever he'd said and done were not lost on him, but as usual, he'd misplaced all his suave smoothness when he fucking needed it the most. He was furious with himself that he hadn't even been able to recover from the Avantika conversation, let alone make things about someone other than himself.

"Why, you asshole," he muttered to himself as he closed and locked his room door. He kicked the door jamb for good measure, letting it ring out satisfyingly. 

'Why do you have to destroy everything that is good and right and...simple. Happy. Why can't you just be the person they need you to be, for five minutes." 

He found the envelope he'd stored in his suitcase, that day when they'd all gone to the venue before him. It had stayed there, innocently untouched, for weeks. Weeks of no temptation whatsoever. No problem at all.

He took it out. Put it on the dresser. Sat on the bed and stared at it. Crossed his legs. Steepled his fingers. And just.

Stared.

Finally, he found the will to pick up his phone. He dialed the number he knew off by heart. When a groggy voice answered, he murmured the code. 

"U'katoa."

"I'll be right there."

When she'd said right there, he hadn't anticipated the knock arriving less than 20 minutes later. She must have already been in France, which was less surprising than he would have liked. 

"You know, I am a little annoyed with you," she said the second he opened the door. "I thought it was going to be months before you called. I've lost rather a lot of money in the office pool."

"Ava," Fjord said wearily, stepping aside to let her into the room. He had to be quick. There could be Nein in the room at any moment. 

"Darling, you look like shit — if you'll excuse my crass language a moment. The road is not suiting you like it used to."

"Why thank you."

"So. Have you reconsidered my offer?" 

"You know I haven't. Three shows. You get Berlin, Rostock, and Warunde." She eyed him with laughter already in her eye. He took a breath before he lost his nerve. "Take it or leave it." 

Avantika chuckled at him. She swept her long red hair over a shoulder and perched on his bed. He sighed, rubbing his temple. He'd obviously known she wasn't going to make this easy but fuck. Did she have to do everything in such an obviously flirtatious way? It made every interaction painful. 

"Listen to you," she teased. "Take it or leave it. You always did think you had a choice in this, didn't you?" 

"Avantika, please." 

"Germany? You're giving me Germany and you think he'll be satisfied?" 

"A major city and a port town. Always her best crowds. Plus, the university. It's a good deal, Ava. At least ask him." 

She laughed again, leaning back further so that, if anyone were to see her now, the word 'lounging' would be the first that came to mind. 

"Fine. I'll bring it to him. The Orbs could certainly do with a show or two. In fact, I have a deep sense that even one show for them would result in the freeing up of some creative talent." 

"Even just one song," Fjord pleaded. "One song from the new album and I promise it would be beneficial to both of us." 

"You know she didn't have to sign that contract," Avantika chastised with an audible tisk. "Beau has only herself to blame. Well. That and her blind loyalty to you, I suppose. But that's hardly the labels fault.

Fjord sighed. "Yeah. Trust me. I am aware."

"Now, enough, darling. You know there's nothing more I can do tonight. You look exhausted. Come. Sit. I'll—" 

"Ava, just go. You have the papers. Call me tomorrow." 

She pouted at him in the least sincere way he'd ever seen a mouth move as she stood and marched herself to the door. He could say a great many thing about Avantika Tiffan, but she knew when a game was up. 

And this game had been up for too long. 

"Hey," he said softly as she grabbed the door handle. She paused to look at him, just as he'd known she would. "Its not personal. You know that right?" 

"Of course, captain. Different ships in different waters, and who knows. We could have been the ones who were really in charge, hey?" 

He smiled ruefully. "A guy can dream." 

"Never thought of you as a dreamer. I'll call you in the morning, darling. Get some sleep. You really do look like shit." 

Chapter Text

Caduceus woke up, bleary-eyed, to insistent knocking at his unlocked hotel door. He probably should have locked it, in retrospect. It was so unusual for him to even think about keeping things out. But this was the seventh night in a row he'd forgotten and he was unsure, still, how much he cared. He called for the person to come in as he dragged his shirt off the floor where he'd discarded it the night before. Right after he'd decided not to go after Fjord, in fact, but he was pretty sure he wanted to leave that particular thought process firmly in the midnight light. 

"Oh, Cad. Sorry. I thought you'd be up. You usually are." 

He chuckled. He usually was , and the thought of how much he'd changed of late made him feel light and somewhat carefree. 

"No bother, Beauregard," he replied lightly, swinging himself out of bed. "Everything alright." 

She beamed at him. "We need to go on a road trip. Want to come?" 

He looked at her, puzzled. "Aren't we already on a road trip?" 

 "You're right. Fine. This is more of a, uh, field trip, then." 

"Sounds like an adventure." 

"I assure you, it won't be. But Caleb is coming and I can promise you that you won't want to be around when Fjord finds Molly this morning." 

He grimaced, held up a finger, and found some new pants to throw on in the bathroom. Ten minutes later, they were careening around corners in eccentric Paris traffic, with Caleb nestled quietly in the back seat of the red rented convertible Beau had pulled up to the hotel exit. Caduceus sat beside Beau, trying his best to remain serene and not look like he was holding on. Which he definitely was. 

"So, where are we headed?" he asked innocently through partially clenched teeth. 

"I convinced Yasha to get an earlier flight," Caleb answered crispy from the back, only just loud enough to be heard. He had his hands clenched in his lap, and despite his open blazer and haphazardly carefree scarf, he had tension coiled in his whole body. 

Caduceus nodded but didn't press for details. In part because he didn't care, and in part because he didn't want to make Caleb expand. When they finally made it to the outside of the city, the open roads allowed Beu to settle down. They drove for 20 more minutes in the cool, airy sunshine before Caduceus managed to relax. Peering back, he found Caleb asleep, his arms finally at rest by his sides. 

"Don't think he got much sleep last night," Beau smirked. 

"He seems… tense?" 

"Well, tenser than normal, I guess. He's always a little wound." 

Caduceus nodded. He'd noticed that. "Is it Mollymauk?" 

"Absolutely. They left without a goodbye last time. But Caleb… I'm pretty sure Caleb hadn't let himself feel for anyone in a while. He took it harder than us. And I mean… wait, did Fjord tell you any of this?" 

Caduceus shook his head. "You don't have to either if you don't want to." 

"No, it's not that. It's just complicated. Mollymauk wasn't really given a choice. In leaving? They were trying to protect us all. We mostly forgave them. Caleb, though. He was heartbroken. And Yasha… they'd been through a lot together. She didn't understand. I think it's why Caleb got her to come out now. And Fjord…" 

Beau cut herself off, glancing sidelong at Caduceus. "Remember what I said about Avantika? The manipulation? The… the broken trust? Fjord doesn't heal from that sort of thing." 

"I've noticed." 

She sighed, running her hands across the wheel in agitation. "Listen, Cad. You know I like you. I trust you. You're… well, you fit right in here to be honest. But Fjord…" She shook her head and checked her blindspot, leaving a pregnant silence between them as she pulled into an exit lane. "What I mean to say is...you might be waiting a while. He's not exactly…available? You know?"

She eyed him as carefully as she could while driving. The experience was unnerving, and Caduceus inwardly shuddered.

"Trust me," she continued. "I know what it feels like to want the unavailable one." 

"It's not the same," Caleb murmured from the back.

"It's not the same as Yasha. She loves you. You know that. She's just not ready to understand what that means."

Beau's gaze flickered back to Caleb through the rearview, and she sighed a heavy, weary sigh that seemed out of place on her lithe, energetic frame. She nodded and signalled as she pulled into the terminal. 

"I just mean, don't get discouraged. He's worth figuring out. It just might suck at first," she finished a moment later. 

"Forgive me," Caduceus muttered, voice pitched low as they pulled into a spot in the arrivals lane. "I don't know what you're talking about." 

As she pulled the keys from the ignition, Beau smiled at him gently, reaching out to ruffle his unkempt hair. 

"I know. But you will. And I don't want to lose you in the meantime."

Uncharacteristically, he felt himself tear up. He smiled instead of acknowledging the emotion.

After a few minutes, the terminal doors opened again to reveal a woman almost as tall as him, intricate braids flapping in the sudden wind around a beautiful leather coat. She beamed as she saw the car, and hoisted a small duffle bag higher on her shoulder to wave. 

"Yasha," Beau called loudly. 

"Hello, Beauregard," she smiled back. 

Beau hopped out and approached with a strange amount of caution and hesitation. It was so unlike her, the weird, quiet meekness with which she approached. They conversed in quiet tones. Yasha shoved her hands in the pocket of her jacket, Beau scuffed her toe on the earth. 

"Caleb," Caduceus said, turning to the back to find the man in dark sunglasses gazing at the horizon to the left. "Why am I here?" 

He'd thought to perhaps surprise Caleb. Instead, the sound manager turned to him, removed his glasses, and gazed at him. 

"Come for a walk with me," he suggested. 

"But…the car?" 

Caleb chuckled. "They will stand there pretending they are talking for the next ten minutes. We have time. Bitte ."

Caduceus nodded and opened his door. Caleb jumped the door in a shocking display of athleticism. He wandered up and hugged Yasha tightly, his head resting across her sternum as she returned the embrace. He muttered something to Beau, who nodded and then gestured to Cad to follow him. 

They wandered across the traffic barrier, into the field of dehydrated and dying grass near a parking structure. Caduceus hated airports. They never signalled good things; someone leaving, someone arriving to tell him what to do with his life. Loud, noisy places. Full of anonymity in the worst way, devoid of nature in an even more terrible way. But Caleb seemed content, and he tried to take a deep breath and steady himself. 

"They don't really mean to not tell you things," he began. "I think they both enjoy having someone fresh around. Someone who doesn't know their …geschichten ? Their history." 

Caduceus knew the word. He knew it could mean history. He knew it could also mean stories. He didn't interject. 

"But I don't agree. They should have told you what you were into. It should have been your choice." 

"It's really okay, Caleb," Caduceus insisted. "Everyone has history." 

"Not everyone's history is illegal and full of violence," Caleb replied darkly. "You aren't surprised?" he noted at Caduceus' silence. 

"As I said, everyone has a story." 

Caleb nodded, reserved. He lit a cigarette apologetically and aimed it carefully away from Caduceus. "Fjord was a young man once. He made a…a bad deal. He met Beau. He brought her into the bad deal. There have been people involved in their story since long before we all ended up as a family." 

"Avantika?" 

He waved his hand at him. "A pawn. She is almost meaningless. Fjord believed she had more power than she does. He might still, to be frank. But she does not. The deal is almost complete, though."

"As complete as these deals ever are." 

Caleb made an exactly gesture at him with his smoke, exhaling slowly. "There's more. I don't want to get into that. It's for him to explain. But Molly…they're all angry at Molly. I understand why. They don't think I do. I do. It's just…I also understand more." 

"Can you…I don't want to push. But I don't understand why they're so mad at Molly." 

"Abandonment doesn't sit well with the Nein," Caleb said acerbically. "Usually I agree. Maybe I should here, too. Only…"

He exhaled and looked away. Silence passed between them. 

"Only, love," Caduceus said gently.

Caleb scrubbed the back of his neck, colour high in his cheeks. "That obvious, is it?" 

Caduceus shrugged. He didn't care. 

"Yes. I guess. Molly was…they were attacked. They were also stupid and rash and defending a thing that didn't need defending. They thought leaving would keep the rest of us safe. It was wrong. It was stupid to leave in the middle of the night. But. We all make choices." 

"And now? Is everyone safe now?"

Caleb nodded. "Now, yes. Money talks, as they say. Leylas was furious. Nothing more will happen. The Bright Queen's tours make enough money that not even The Orbs would dare — but again, not my place." 

"I appreciate your candour," Caduceus said honestly.

He appraised Caleb and his cigarette with a newfound understanding. Mollymauk was not everything that made Caleb who he was. The nervous energy, the fervent glances, the long periods of silence. Still, this, and their love, love was certainly part of it. The apprehensive ginger-haired man was slightly easier to read than he had a few minutes ago and Caduceus found he was genuinely grateful to know him. 

"Beau's right, you know, Caleb continued after a lapsed silence. "Fjord trusts you. It is not an honour he bestows on many. Almost no one, in fact. And certainly not this quickly." 

"What is it you and Beau are both so determined to warn me about?" Caduceus asked after a moment. "My role here is only to keep the crew as happy and healthy as possible."

Caleb laughed his stark and genuine laugh, once again stubbing out his smoke but this time linking arms with Caduceus as he led him back to the car. It was, Cad was sure, the first time the other man had allowed any physical contact between them. 

"And you do it well, my tall, pink-haired friend. I think, though, that you will understand when I remind you that yours was Mollymauk's role before you," he said meaningfully. "Beau and I have both been here before."

Fjord found Molly in their room, surprisingly alone. Nott had been sitting outside, on the floor, as though on guard. He knew Caleb had gone with Beau to the airport. It was as

good a time as any when he chose to knock and confront his life choices head-on. Mollymauk sat up abruptly when he bound in after a quick rap on the unlocked door. They were smaller than Ford remembered. Skinnier. Shorter. It was maybe just the fact that Molly always seemed larger than life that made their physical appearance less impressive when met. Fjord marched up to the bed and Molly stood uncertainly.

All the words he'd planned to use, all his anger, fled the second he saw the look on Molly's face. Fjord just he embraced them tightly, his whole body wrapped around Molly in a crushing hug. 

"Welcome back," he grumbled. "Don't you ever leave like that again." 

When he finally let them go. Ford found himself trembling as he stepped back. 

Mollymauk smiled sadly. "What? That's it? What will I tell the others about our reunion when they ask?"

"You tell him whatever you need to," Fjord returned grumpily. 

Mollymauk grinned more genuinely. "I think I'll tell them that you threatened me with an inch of my life. Told me if I ever left again, you would hunt me down and kill me. It's better for your ruthless leader image." 

Fjord smiled, sadness creeping into his eyes in spite of himself. "You tell them whatever you need to," he repeated. 

Molly's face suddenly fell, all jovial teasing relinquished as they looked at the floor. 

"I am sorry. I didn't—" 

Fjord waved them off. "Save your apologies. Yasha is coming. You'll need them." 

Molly's eyes went comically wide as they took a step back and sat on the bed. This was the appropriate response to hearing that Yasha was on her way to see them for the first time since they had left. Fjord chuckled darkly. 

Despite her often not actually being with the Nein, they knew what her reactions looked like. Quiet and gentle much of the time, they knew better. Sure, they had all seen her happy, dancing, singing jovially backstage. They had also seen her tired, sad, hungry. They watched her do her job, calm until action was necessary to stop someone backstage. They had seen her take a man twice Fjord’s size by the collar and remove him, bodily, from the stadium, had seen her stop someone from trying to get through when they shouldn't have been there. For every emotion Fjord had seen on Yasha’s person, Mollymauk had seen ten more. And he knew as well as anyone that Mollymauk was ready for Yasha's arrival, or else they would not be sitting here in the hotel. 

Fjord turned to leave the room, ready to get out of the hotel for the day. He was going to tell Nott to stop keeping watch, find Ley and remind her that they were moving on the next day. His mind reeled with the ten million little things he should probably be doing this afternoon. Just as his hand hit the handle, he thought of one other thing. 

Without turning back he said calmly, “Molly? One more thing. If you ever leave me with Caleb like that again, vulnerable and alone? I will find you. I will kill you. Rip your throat out with my bare hands.” 

Mollymauk sighed. “I suppose it means very little to hear it from me, but...I'm never planning on leaving him again.”

Fjord leaned his head against the cool wood of the door. “You’re right. It doesn’t mean much. Not yet,” he replied,  “but it will. Give it time.” 

As she always seemed to, Jester saved his day; she found him wandering five minutes after he’d left Molly’s room. Chattering a mile a minute, he’d been dragged to the flower markets at the behest of Leylas, who had demanded flower crowns for the evening’s show. She skipped her way through the colourful offerings, distracting him effectively until she convinced him it was time for pastries. Pastries in Paris, being what it is, turned into a whole afternoon of coffee and bistro patios, a long-winded adventure to find the wild cherry tart Jester had had in her last trip to the city, and getting back just in time for crowns to be made and stage checks to begin. 

He spent the night in the booth with Nott. The show was much smaller, a different venue. As soon as they took to the stage, he understood the desire for the crowns. The band were all wearing long, flowing frocks. They were effervescent and yet ethereal. Their set was quiet at first, spreading into noise and light and sound. Beside him in the tiny space, Nott expertly manoeuvred the cues she and Caleb had long ago perfected. It was a sight to behold. 

“Can I ask you a question,” she suddenly said to him without looking up from the board.

“Always.”

“Are we in danger still?”

Fjord stopped short. He was used to questions from Caleb. But Nott? He braced himself and shook his head. 

“I took care of it,” he said.

“When?”

“Germany.”

“Okay,” she said shortly, nodding. “Can I tell Caleb?”

“I’ll...I was going to tell everyone. We— I just decided.”

“Fjord,” Nott said with warning and anger in her tone. “She was here. Why didn’t you tell someone? Did Beau know.”

“Nott…”

She waved him off and turned back to the board. The band was prepping for their final song before the encore. The applause cut off whatever Nott said next. 

“Pardon?” he said as they started the first chords. “I said , you should tell Caduceus first.”

“What?” he said, baffled. “Why?”

“Because he’ll help you look less terrified when you tell the others.”

Fjord snorted. “Why do you think that?”

She shrugged. “Dunno. He just seems to have that effect on you. You tell me.” 

Chapter Text

From Paris, they moved southeast, towards Sweden, Austria, Prague. It was a predictable tour path, but Fjord was already antsy. Their caravan subtly picked up a third coach bus shortly after arriving in Lyon, and the fact that Mollymauk was the first person to notice sent a shiver of annoyance down his spine. The bus was feeling hot and small, and he finally threw himself into a bunk to try and sleep in the middle of the day. It wasn’t his strong suit. 

It was an hour before he gave up on his nap and threw open the curtain.

“Alright,” he announced into the moving apartment, far louder than the small space warranted. “Enough. Everyone, assemble.”

"Uhh, Fjord?" Beau replied, gesturing around her to the fact that everyone else was already gathered. "What's going on, friend? We’re barely able to step over each other. Don’t feel like the announcement is necessary." 

Still, the crew quieted. Caleb put down his textbook and, consequently, woke Mollymauk from their nap in his lap. Nott stopped sorting through the random cables she was holding and Yasha stuck her head out from the bunk below his, where she has been gently strumming her ukulele. Caduceus was the only one who didn't stop what he was doing. He stood beside the small sink, stirring something slowly in a bowl. 

Fjord hoisted himself down slowly and leaned on the back wall of the bus. 

"I don't know why I didn't tell you. It's not like you haven't noticed. We've got company." 

Beau stood up suddenly, knocking her notebook to the ground. "Why didn't you tell me you were calling?" 

Fjord sighed and shook his head. "It's two more shows. Then they'll release the music." 

"I told you," Molly muttered to Caleb, who swatted their head and shushed them. 

The coach sat silent for a moment before Yasha sat up and moved to grip Fjord's shoulder. 

"Do we have a choice?" she said quietly. 

He shook his head. "Not in the performances. And in what comes after? I don't know." 

Caleb looked back at him. "I…I have been thinking about it since last time…"

"Me too," chimed in Nott. 

"Guys, I appreciate it but I won't let you all be in danger for no reason. This is my mess. It's bad enough you're all as involved as you are." 

"They don't have the right. You paid them back years ago," Beau growled. 

"Interest is interest," he sighed. His shoulders felt heavy and his chest was tight. 

They were all watching him; they probably weren't waiting for an inspirational speech or reassurance. Not this time. But the urge to do it anyway was strong. He inhaled to say something when Caduceus suddenly huffed out a small chuckle. They all turned to look at him, mystified. 

"Sorry," he muttered when he noticed. 

"What exactly is funny?" Nott demanded. "You do know what we're talking about, right?" 

Caduceus shrugged. "I've guessed. Thugs. Criminals. Right?" 

Beau's head shifted just enough that Fjord could practically feel her coiled and ready to attack. 

"Doesn't take much to figure out," Caduceus continued in his normal, disinterested tone. "You assume I don't understand you all. Or that I don't listen. I'm not exactly simple, you know." 

They watched him stop stirring, pull down the pile of mugs that sat beside the sink, ubiquitous and always clean. He poured a dark, frothy liquid into them one by one as the rest of the crew looked on in silence. 

"So I figure, we need to do two things," Caduceus continued as he poured. "First, we let these shows happen. Now, I admit, I'm unclear about what is going on there. But you all seem very resigned to those so I guess we just continue as you are. And second…well, second, we stop letting a bunch of bullies push you all around. I think, as a team, we can figure that out. Don't you?"

The deafening silence of the coach made Fjord shiver. There was just so much simple determination to the statement. The tone was the same as if he had suggested they all go to lunch, but the feeling behind the sentiment was made of ice and power. Caduceus had never sounded so perfectly capable of doing exactly as he wished. It was frightening. 

It was fucking hot. 

"Caduceus," Beau said patiently. "It's not really that simple." 

"Oh? Why? What are they doing?" 

Nott interjected. "What are they doing? What are they doing? Look no offence, new guy, but you don't really get to walk in here and tell us we aren't handling our own stuff properly." 

"Nott," Caleb said calmly.

Nott glared at Caduceus but stopped speaking.

"She is just…" Caleb sighed. "Well, they have always been in charge. We are paid by them, Caduceus. Their 'band' appears for two or three shows a tour. It's not really a performance. They play a few songs on stage, and then they take the whole night's profit. It's…it's a sort of cleaning project. "

"Ah. Money laundering," Caduceus said with a nod. Caleb jolted. "Have they been paid back?" 

Fjord laughed humourlessly. "Like that matters." 

"I can make it matter," Caduceus muttered to the floor, not meeting anyone's eye. He picked up his bowl again and poured the last of the liquid. "If you'll trust me." 

Nott cleared her throat. The rest of the bus remained silent. 

"Mexican hot chocolate?" Caduceus finished, gesturing to the mugs.

Mollymauk suddenly burst into uproarious laughter. They all turned to look at them. 

"Why do I feel like he might actually be able to fix this?" Molly asked through laughter. 

Just like that, they were all off. The laughter made Fjord sigh. Caduceus stared at them all, shook his head, and — apparently giving up on them getting it themselves — began handing out the hot chocolate. 

Fjord took his mug but grabbed Caduceus by the wrist as well. The gesture caught them both off guard, and Cad’s eyes burned holes into Fjord’s soul. He immediately let go, his hand phantom burning where the skin had met.

"Look, I appreciate your positivity here, Cad, but these guys aren't… I didn't just walk out and forget to pay my bill." 

"I figured, yeah," Cad said with a smile, looking down at his wrist and sighing. He turned back to the generally gathered group.  

"Look, it's time I told you all something," he said carefully. "When I might Quana, I had just been released from prison. For extortion. Of a crime family." 

Beau laughed a short, disbelieving laugh into the room that had just quieted. She curled up in her seat with her hot chocolate and snorted again. "No offence, C, but if you're trying to hide your past from us, you're going to need to do better than 'extortion of a crime family' while we drink the cocoa you just made us. Be real, man.” 

"It is very delicious," Yasha added quietly. 

Beau smiled at her. “It is, which is why… I mean, crime? Come on. You have told us how much time you spent in the woods, dude.” 

Caduceus sighed a deep sigh that was very unlike himself. Like he was bracing himself for something. 

Fjord studied him, deciding he was being honest. 

"My father is part of a rather large syndicate family in the north of Wales,” he exhaled. His voice was no more than a growl. “He raised us away from it all, my sisters and I. We owned a small campground. Ten cabins and a shop. A few spaces for caravans. It turned into something popular. Like, a tourist attraction. My mother ran it and he was never there. I didn't know where our profits came from until the family showed up after he died suddenly to take payment." 

Silence fell around Caduceus for a brief moment. It was broken when Nott leapt up in her seat and threw her hands in the air in victory, nearly spilling what remained in her mug.

"I knew it!" She shouted. "I knew it. No one stays that calm without some ridiculous past. She thought you were some sort of forest monk.” 

Caduceus chuckled darkly. "Not many monasteries would be interested in my form of medicine." 

"Caduceus, you don't owe us a story. Though I, for one, appreciate your trust in us," Caleb interjected. "We trust you, too. Fjord just wants to have these last two shows happen and then we can all move on. Hopefully. 

Caduceus eyed Caleb carefully. Cocked his head to the side. Waited him out. When their gazes finally met, Cad nodded his head. 

"I would wager, Mr Caleb, that you know better than the others why that won't be enough. That isn't how these things work. They don't leave you alone." He turned to face Fjord. "You know it too, don't you?" 

Fjord looked at the ground. 

"I lost everything because I didn't act until it was too late," Caduceus said darkly. "I can do this. You just have to let me help." 

It was finally Yasha who broke the silence that fell over the bus. 

"I think, maybe, it can't hurt to try? Does anyone else feel like that?" 

"If nothing else," added Nott, "I'd personally love to never see Avantika again." 

"I won't let you," Fjord growled. "I will not let you all take on my danger or my debt. Right now, it only involves my job, and that’s bad enough . You can't confront them. I won't allow it." 

Caduceus gave a rare laugh at that and turned to clap Fjord on the shoulder. 

"Sir, I've been here for three weeks and I can already tell you this — you can't stop any of these people from acting like idiots if they want to. And I can proudly say that I am one of them."

Fjord sighed wearily. 

"Don't worry,” Cad grinned. “I have a plan." 

Chapter Text

The next two weeks of shows went relatively smoothly. Caduceus started understanding what the others had been talking about; the nights blurred together and there were few differences between the hotels. The schedule for the interior countries of Europe was intense. More often than not, they actually just slept in shifts on the bus, curled into bunks and chairs, running between venues. It was a pace that Caduceus had never experienced in his life. 

His childhood had been complicatedly idyllic; on the surface, it was clean and filled with nature. Weird mismatched schooling left him with enough ability to read, write, and compute, but more importantly, the ability to independently learn anything he needed to know when he needed to know it. He spent his time running the forest with his siblings, swimming in the lake with a variety of long-time guests, the children he grew up with constantly shifting. It was perfect, in its way. It was only when he thought long enough about it that he could punch through and find the gaps, the holes in the story he was fed.

Like the ‘uncles’ that would show up and make his mother cry before staying the night in the fancy cabin. Or the fact that they always had what they needed, always had workers and construction projects and new tools, even though by the time he was ten, Caduceus was sure that the campground could not be making all that much money. His mother, too, was strange in her way. She would insist to him and his siblings that their father loved them dearly, but as soon as he arrived — always without warning and transporting any number of ‘coworkers’ through his mother’s spotless kitchen — he would disappear into the converted trailer out back of the store and barely speak to any of them until he left again, invariably just a few short years later. 

Still, the attitude he carried into the world with him, almost by accident, was one of calm, peace. Tranquillity. He could always be relied upon to keep a level head. 

As the days wore on, with show after show including a new set of security that certainly wasn’t Yasha-approved, the others became visibly more anxious. Each day, with the extra bus always just at the end of everyone’s vision, the calm and level side of Caduceus got...antsy. He was going to have to do something. There was only so much tea he could make. 

When he ran into Leylas the day before they crossed into Germany, Caduceus was relatively convinced he was about to go crazy. He’d spent the day moving between every single one of the Nein in their tiny motel, putting out tiny fires they didn’t seem to know were burning. He’d talked Yasha out of fleeing the entire tour to go on a ‘walk’ by convincing her that his meditation playlist was actually really good. He’d managed to calm Nott down by feeding her lunch in the middle of the morning, a brie and fish sandwich that should have been disgusting but apparently was not. Caleb and Beauregard had been having a heated argument about...well, truthfully, about something that Caduceus had no understanding of whatsoever. But they’d been having it loudly . And in the middle of the parking lot. People had started gathering to watch. He’d stopped them with the simple suggestion that they go find some new snacks for the last leg of the tour. Beau was easily distracted by snacks, and Caleb was easily distracted from an argument he didn't think he was going to win. 

The only person he hadn't seen was Fjord, and since he wasn't entirely sure what to do with the dark, brooding fear that lingered over the man's head, he wasn't entirely disappointed by that reality. 

Leylas, however, was very much interested in where her tour manager was. Her hand on his shoulder weighed a little more than normal and worry furrowed her brow. 

"Have they told you?" she began without preamble. When he nodded, she looked down. "I should have been the one to…" 

"Don't. I signed myself up for—" 

"Not for this Mr Clay. Not for this." 

It was his surname that cleared up his hesitations, brought his plan to the forefront. It was simple, really. His name, as was so often the case, was suddenly a rusty old key at the bottom of a forgotten suitcase. Useless for an eternity, until the very moment it was needed. It was a name he rarely heard these days, though he never tried to hide it. A name that only a very specific crowd would even pause to hear. 

"Leylas…I have a feeling that you were going to ask me something, just now," he said, his thoughts confirmed when her forehead buried itself into an even larger crevice. 

"None of the questions feel like the right one. I hired you for the wellness of a crew that is now in danger. Do you have any idea what that — well, anyway. It's not important. I was actually just going to ask if you've seen Fjord. He's usually run show notes with me by now and I can't find him anywhere."

Caduceus shook his head. "Haven't seen him all day" he admitted, "which is also odd."

She nodded at him once and turned to go. 

"Can you get me in front of someone who matters?" he blurted at her back. 

She froze. Her hair was done up in intricate braids, messy as though she'd slept on them. They had Beau's signature handiwork about them, and it was clear that Leylas tried to save them, had haphazardly pinned fresh flowers to them this morning. She hadn't wanted to take them out. Everything about her today screamed delicacy and sensitivity, but one look in her eyes told you better. She was quick and ruthless. Leylas Kryn was a lot of things, but delicate was not one of them. Had that been the case, she never would have found him in that place, never would have known the right people to talk to or the right palms to grease.  They were only in this position because she knew the consequences of each action she made. He had a hard time believing that Fjord had ever acted alone. Which meant, of course, that she took the full and true meaning of his question on immediately.

As he had known she would. 

He owed her nothing, and everything, so now he would trade it for the truth. 

"Yes," she replied, simply.

"And?" 

"Not until Berlin." She turned to shake her head at him. It was clear there was no room for discussion on the matter. "Then, I will see what I can do."

"And in the meantime?" 

She turned to him once more. "Clay, in the meantime, I need you to find Fjord." 

The room was dark, and there was a pit to the left of him. Just as there always was. He assumed it was a pit, at least, because there was always a subtle current of air like there had been at the quarry he remembered from his youth. That had always been a pit, too.  He moved from unconscious to awake with a jolt, though he didn't open his eyes. He knew it was pointless. The outside of his lids would reveal the same thing he was seeing now. Darkness, with an undercurrent of intentional fear. 

He could smell Ava near him, which made him shudder slightly in disgust. He hated that he could pull that from the air, with so few external signals.

“Why do we do this,” he stated, not really a question. She chuckled at him. The dark thing groaned at him. 

There was a tiny point of light somewhere beneath his right eye. He tested opening it. He’d been right, though; he couldn’t see a thing. Ava was to his left, her warm weight ever-present. It barely pulled back on the panicked cold he felt. He would never admit it when he was...well, awake? But he was terrified. 

“What do you want, Ava?”

“Not me, darling.”

“Us,” rasped the voice . Fjord shivered again. “We want an audience with the leader of the band. ”

“We,” the second voice crumbled, "we want to hear it directly from you."

He suppressed his pain, his fear. He told himself the things he knew to be true, a trick from the panic attacks that had served him well.

Their voices must be masked, or fake. Or both?  You are safe. You are likely drugged. Or bound. Or both? 

“You think you can draw out the contract,” Fjord spit, suddenly aware that they were waiting for him. “That you frighten me. That the terms are flexible. They aren’t. We have paid you back, interest included. So what’s next? You kill me? Go for it. Hold the album up? You must be smart enough to realize by now, she doesn’t care. She doesn’t do this for the tour. She would stop tomorrow if I disappeared. They would all follow her. You'd be out of her revenue, so you’ll be screwed anyway. Take Germany, Zehir.”

“You dare to address me,” the voice rasped. 

“Yes!” interrupted Fjord. “I address you, you idiot. Because despite what you want to think, you are not a God. You are just a tiny part of a much wider world, one that will catch up to you, no matter how scary you make your names. Leviathan, Uk’atoa, great bloody serpents. It won’t matter if you can’t hold up your end of a deal. Have you honestly never watched a mob movie? You start breaking the deals now, you’ll end up with a stream of bodies and then you’ll run out of time. Besides which, you know as well as I do that you have to honour your contract this time—”

“I told you,” Ava drawled, interrupting Fjord’s fear-fueled rant. “He’s...different, somehow.”

“Hmm,” one of the voices rolled. “Fine. We will take Germany. We will release your precious little album.”

Fjord said nothing. There was a catch. He didn’t know what yet, but it would appear. It always did. 

“...and?” he finally pressed. 

“Nothing. Your contract will be finished.”

“Avantika has been very gracious in helping us understand your current...situation. Am I correct in thinking that no matter what happens next, you will not be with the band much longer?”

“I…” Fjord hadn’t told anyone of his decision to quit. Was he being obvious in some way?

“It doesn’t matter. You are right. You will be useless to us soon. And I suppose we always knew you would one day—”

But a terrible pounding noise interrupted the growling voice's monologue. The sound was sharp, intense. It split Fjord’s brain in two, made him grimace and curl into himself. The complete blackness turned inward, and he wanted to scream. He chose to vomit instead, feeling the disgusting heat as it left him and hit the floor. He was aware only of his name being called before he went unconscious once more.

“Fjord!” Caduceus shouted again, pounding with both fists this time on the thin metal of the old tour bus.

 He didn’t even know why he was here. Surely it wasn’t entirely safe, but somehow, having checked every possible place for him and texted him far more times than was necessary or appropriate, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he needed to check on this mysterious, rusted out coach that had begun following them so recently. 

“Fjord!” he called again, slamming his hands flat on the door. He so rarely spoke this loudly; it hurt his throat. He didn’t particularly like this level of alarm. It brought back rather unpleasant memories. 

A small, ginger-beared man emerged a fraction of an inch from the door. “Can I help you?” he asked, eyes narrowed.

“Do you know where Fjord is?” he asked quietly. “Tour manager? About, oh I don’t know, yay high. Bright green hair?”

“I assure you, I don’t know who or what you are talking about. Can I ask who gave you permission to knock on our door?” 

Caduceus rankled, his hair standing on edge as the man stared him down. He drew himself up to his full height, putting a hand in the crack of the door.

“Last I checked, you were in our caravan,” he murmured, his voice pitching dangerously low. He had dealt with far too many men of this type; small-minded, ego’s larger than their dicks. He would not be dealing with it. Not today. “Now, can you answer my relatively simple question? Please. ” 

The man glared at him, moving to pull the door closed. Just then a very familiar voice grumbled. Just loud enough that Caduceus held fast to the metal of the door.

“Think you’re going to want to let me in now,” he said lowly. 

The man scoffed but stood aside. When he stepped into the small bus, he immediately knew two things; one, he had been right to come. 

And two, he had never been more furious in his entire life. 

Chapter Text

Storming onto a bus at his height was not exactly easy, but determination made Caduceus bold. He watched as Fjord attempted to drag his listless body upright again, failing several times before a lithe and predatorial woman jerked his arm sharply and got him against the backrest of the bench seat he sat upon. She turned to Caduecus in surprise when he released the low growl that he’d held since opening the door.  “Let. Him. Go.”

“And you are...?” she purred, smiling at him in the least friendly way he’d ever seen. 

To her left stood two small men — twins, if appearances were to believed. They wore cheap, ill-fitting suits and had ridiculously over-coiffed hair. Whatever ounce of respectability they were trying to negotiate out of their dress had failed them entirely. Behind, with arms crossed and hulking bodies looming, stood what could only be described as bodyguards. One, whose long and unkempt beard looked out of place, was coiled as if he could pounce at any moment. The other, red-haired and lanky, seemed familiar. Almost as if… 

“Colton?” Caduceus exclaimed. 

The other man met his eyes and genuine shock replaced the feigned violence that had been there previously.

“Cad? What the hell...what are you...”

The woman cleared her throat, gripping Fjord’s arm just the slightest bit harder. When Fjord groaned, Caduceus dragged his attention back to the situation on the bench. Colton would have to be an afterthought.

“I presume you are here to collect your band manager?” the woman intoned, as though he was picking up a forgotten backpack. “We were almost done here.”

“What have you done to him?” Caduceus demanded. 

“Oh my, a feisty one,” she chuckled. The two small men wheezed in reply. Caduceus’ blood boiled hotter than it already was, his fists clenching against his will as he advanced two steps closer. “Now, now, my friend. No need for violence. He’s fine. A mild sedative with a psychotropic chaser. He just needs to sleep it off. You haven’t known him long, have you? He used to voluntarily take far scarier things.”

“ Voluntarily ,” Caduceus repeated. “Meaning it wasn’t exactly voluntary now.”

“Goodness,” she chided. “So dramatic.” 

“You drugged him .” 

“Perhaps, when you put it like that, the word suddenly applies. Many words can be used like that I find,” she turned back to Fjord, pushing hair out of his face and simultaneously making Caduecus’ stomach churn in anger. Anger? Maybe not anger. He’d have to work that one out later. 

“See, I see this current predicament as insurance. In our line of work, you can’t be too careful. Besides, we just came to a perfect new arrangement, didn’t we, dear Fjord? We won’t ever have to cross paths again. So, if everyone could just take a deep breath...”

“Caduceus?” Fjord mumbled, his voice weak and thready. 

“That’s you, I presume? Interesting name,” the woman said, lifting an eyebrow to Colton who stood a little straighter. His glare tore through the back of Cad’s head but he refused to turn around.

Several curses and bits of other vitriol went through his head. He forced himself to take a deep breath. He took another step toward the woman.

"You've made your deal?" he confirmed. She nodded, that same infuriating grin on her face. "Then you're not going to stop me from taking him back to the crew." 

"Unless the gentlemen have an objection?" 

The simpering tone she used as she turned to the small men made his eyes water in rage. He knew that tone. She wasn't playing a game, no matter what she believed in her own heart. They were in charge of her. She revered them. She may never admit it, but Caduceus had seen it enough; the descent into blind faith was always faster and more complete than anyone in it wanted to admit to themselves. 

He realized he was running out of time. The warring factions of him wanted two very different things. On the one hand, he wanted blood. He was irrationally pissed now. And hot. And stooped just enough that his back hurt. At the same time, he wanted to grab Fjord and get the hell out of here. He compromised and spun both of them towards the twins. 

Towards his brother. 

"I," he said in a low hiss. "Am Caduceus Clay. Yes. Of those Clay's. The heir and temporary holder of The Wild. Incorporated. Behind you stands Colton Clay. Not sure he shared that little detail, but I can promise you this. If he's here, you're already screwed."

He turned back to the woman, whose face had paled slightly. She stood straight, a last-ditch attempt to seem strong again. It didn't work. 

"Avantika, I presume." 

"Clever," she muttered with a sniff. 

He smiled humourlessly. "Very good at reading people. Which is how I know it's not too late for you. You could choose to get out. But, honestly, I don't really care."

The shorter, uglier twin suddenly decided to be affronted. He stepped toward the centre of the bus and puffed out his chest.

"How dare you threaten my operation. You have quite the nerve considering we have you surrounded." 

"Oh, I haven't threatened you yet," Caduceus interjected. "Sorry, I'm usually better at this. Let me restart." 

He cleared his throat. 

"This is how this is going to go. You are going to take your rusted down little caravan and go back home. No one from your crew will ever be in front of a Bright Queen audience again."

"And," he continued, holding up a hand to stop the angry protest that was already starting, "if we have a problem with returning interest from my friend here, I'm sure I can work out a payment plan with The Wild." 

The next step he took was to shake Colton's hand. 

"Have things really gotten so bad, Zehir?" he whispered, taking on the mocking tone that haunted his own nightmares. "Travelling in a second-hand coach bus? Drugging civilians for petty shakedowns? How the mighty fall, apparently." 

Zehir spat at his feet. Though clenched and seething teeth, Levi added, "He's no civilian. Clearly, you've been out too long." 

"For your sake," Colton declared, "Let's keep it that way. Come on, it's not worth it." 

Colton nodded toward the bench where Avantika still held Fjord's head up. 

"Take your man, get out of here." 

Caduceus shook his head, but couldn't find the words. Couldn't ask why. Why it was worth it, why they had ended up here, both of them. He just picked up Fjord instead. 

He inhaled and ducked under Fjord's shoulder, hoisting him up, adjusted his weight until his head was warmly resting on Caduceus's neck. 

He was shorter than Caduceus, and the angle was awkward, particularly since Fjord wasn't holding up any of his own weight. It's not like Caduceus hadn't noticed the height difference; he always knew that people were smaller than him, felt it really. It was admittedly difficult to match the Clay children for height. But this wasn't that. This was unnatural fragility. A vulnerability that was completely out of character. Zero fear, comfort. 

Trust. 

Caduceus looked down at Fjord, and in one breath, understood those words from Beauregard all those weeks ago at the airport. 

He's worth figuring out. 

He fought the ludicrous desire to scoop Fjord into his arms and fireman carry him off this damned coach. He wasn't actually convinced he could carry him, and his exit would not hold up against failed feats of strength. 

He manoeuvred the nearly impossible task of getting off the bus while dragging Fjord and blinked into the bright sunshine of late afternoon. He breathed out, releasing the pent up tension that he'd held.

As quickly as he could, all things considered, he charged into the hotel. He slammed them both into Beauregard's hotel door, half intentionally, half out of energy. When the door flew open a few seconds later, the surprise on her face only lasted two seconds before resigned sadness took it’s place. She ducked under Fjord’s other arm and hauled him up with her continually surprising strength. Yasha, who had been lounging on the sofa in her back-stage gear, quickly got up to help her. Released of Fjord’s weight, Caduceus’ body suddenly felt impossibly heavy itself. He floated to the couch she had just vacated, crashing down onto the seat and continuing his descent until his head was in his hands.

The dance that got Fjord to the bed, with his boots off and a pail beside his head, looked well practised and resigned.

“What did he take?” Beau muttered. 

Caduceus shook his head, his hands quaking with pent up adrenaline and rage. 

“Clay, do you know what he took?” she repeated. “You can’t shock me, trust me. Its safer if you just tell me.”

“No one is mad, Caduceus,” Yasha added in her quiet, calm way. “It’s just, we have seen him—”

Caduceus shook his head again and forced himself to his feet. “He didn’t take anything on purpose. It was them... her. They drugged him. I don’t know — I don’t know what they gave him, but...Listen, I need to go find Leylas. Can I leave him….can you…”

Beau’s mouth had opened and closed several times. She nodded once, looked back at Fjord, and ended up grabbing Caduceus’ arm as he passed her in her attempt to flee. 

“Clay, listen. Stop. Sit. Calm down. You’re no good to anyone right now,” she insisted. Her voice had taken on a seriousness he’d never heard from her before. She suddenly sounded far more like Caleb than herself. “Seriously, Cad. Just...take a beat. There are things you don’t know. I forget how little time you’ve...you just… I forget you don’t know everything.”

He tried to explain, opened his mouth to tell her what he’d seen, but she shook her head.

“Yasha, can you make the calls? We need Nott. Now.”

She nodded, picked up her phone from where it had fallen on the floor, and exited the room. Beau patted his arm once and gestured toward the wide bed.

“Lie down. There’s lots of room. He’s out. You look like you’re going to pass out.”

“There are things you don’t know about me, also. I think… I might have just made everything worse.”

“I very much doubt that.”

“Beauregard…”

“Listen, I know I’m not exactly the warm and fuzzy one here, but I can promise you this. You have made exactly nothing worse. You make...you make things better. Can’t put my finger on it, exactly, but seriously. I haven’t seen him so much as take a drink since you arrived. That may have nothing to do with anything, but it seems like a hell of a coincidence. So sit. Take a breath. Nott will help him. You did everything you could.”

“No, Beau, you don’t understand…” he started, but his voice caught. He sat heavily on the edge of the bed not occupied by Fjord. “I’m dangerous. Always have been.”

Beauregard chuckled at him as Yasha came back into the room. “Everyone is on their way. Apparently, Mollymauk has an idea of what they might have given him.” 

“Yasha,” Beau said gently, a tone of teasing that hadn’t been there before. “Our friend here seems to think that he’s dangerous.”

Yasha snorted. Cad tried to interject. She waved a hand.

“No one comes into the crew without Yasha knowing who they are,” Beau explained. Cad tried again to interject. They needed to know his secret. 

“You were raised in the Silver Wood, Wales. It’s had many names, but that’s the one that matters,” Yasha said, her voice taking on a volume he’d not heard from her. “Two sisters, one brother, a rather idyllic childhood setting with a strange undercoat made of the mafia. The Wild, if my intel is correct. Your father? Honestly, if you wanted to hide your past, you’d consider going by a different name. Clay is a bit conspicuous.” 

“Your brother,” Beau continued, “he chose a different path. He started going by Colton Dustin. Hid him a bit longer. And Fjord? Well, when he joined up with Leviathan, he dropped the last name entirely. I don’t even know it. He had already stopped using it by the time I met him.”

Caduceus had no words, had no energy left to fight them. He turned toward Fjord, laying himself out a good foot away from where the vibrant man lay unconscious. Maybe all people were dangerous. Maybe none of them were. 

“None of us are simple, Clay,” Beau finished, shrugging as the door opened and Nott rushed in, followed by Caleb and Mollymauk.

In the general flurry of activity that followed, Caduceus fell asleep; he didn’t do that often, fall asleep without having a wall to his back and a plan in his head for being awake before anyone else. For an instant, before consciousness left him, he realized that he honestly wasn’t worried. 

For a moment — and just a moment — he could let other people handle things.

Chapter Text

Caduceus woke up to an empty room. He wasn’t surprised, but he did feel the lack of the Nein keenly. It was a new sensation, missing people. He wasn’t this person, the one who noticed absences. It would be ridiculous to classify it as ‘missing’, since he’d likely only been on his own for a few hours, at most. Not to mention that they were not people he deserved to miss. But still. The painful feeling of loneliness was new and very much present. And also, unwelcome. 

He shrugged off the feeling and rolled over to find the other side of the bed that had been made while he was in it. He tried not to spend much time thinking about that, which was made easier by the fact that a piece of hotel stationery was lying on the pillow beside him. 

        Check out, then come find me.  

No signature; it didn’t need one, of course. The scrawled note could only be from one person. He sighed and figured there was no point in delaying the inevitable. This moment had always been the end game. Sure, he hadn’t anticipated this emotion at the endpoint, but that hardly mattered. 

He dragged himself from Beauregard and Yasha's room without a sound. He found the hotel as bright as it had been the night before. The corridor was too well lit, but the morning added that muffled silence of many people behind closed doors that made him so very aware of how many people were around. It had been years — nearly a decade, in fact — since he’d spent this much time around crowds. Yet, he’d never really had a moment of panic or overwhelmed anxiety. He chose, at this moment, not to examine that either. 

In his own room, his bag sat exactly where it had every night they’d stayed inside. The TV stand held the canvas rucksack as though it might be grabbed at any moment for a quick exit. It was so small he could hardly believe he still managed to fit his whole life. He picked it up and tucked his spare shoes into the outside pocket. 

At the desk, he handed in his key and turned to head back up the elevator. No one asked him any questions. They rarely did. Large, pink-haired men had a bit of an invisibility charm. No one suspected there was in a place he shouldn’t be, as they did with Nott. Or that his job was not what he claimed it was, as they did with Beauregard. It was a privilege. He’d never noticed until he’d been standing on that coach with Fjord. He felt his own cheeks heat up; those holes in his understanding, the moments he had to sit in his bias, had been so frequent since joining the tour. He found them uncomfortable. 

He also loved them. 

His knock at the suite where he knew Ley and Q would be waiting for him was more a formality than anything. He walked in without a reply. She smiled at him. 

“Ah, finally,” she said carefully. “Sit down, Caduceus. We’ve been discussing your victory.”

“Victory?” he said acerbically. 

Leylas smiled wryly. “You disagree? The way I hear it, three coach busses peeled out of the parking lot here in the wee hours on their back wheels, and there appears to have been a signed contract delivered at the London office just this morning. Something about a released negotiation agreement. 

“Indeed,” Q added. “I suspect you were successful.”

“Well,” Caduceus replied doubtfully.

“Told you,” Q quipped from her place on the sofa.

Leylas waved a dismissive hand. “Now, I know there is the business of your contract. If you’ll just leave your invoice with me, I’ll make sure we fulfil the terms. Do you anticipate it being much beyond your retainer? I mean, you’re finished early. You can go home! That was your concern, wasn’t it.”

“Leylas…”

“Told you,” Q repeated, more teasing in her tone than had been there before. 

He looked at Quana sharply. “She’s right,” he confirmed. “I’m not leaving. Not now.”

Leylas scoffed.

“You must understand,” Caduceus continued. “They left because I threatened them. And yes, it worked. Perhaps the contract at the office is a good sign. But we have three more shows, Leylas. There are so many opportunities for retaliation. Revenge . It doesn’t have to make sense and it doesn’t have to be worth it to them, financially.  I embarrassed him. He doesn’t go down easily. I wouldn’t leave now if you paid me twice my retainer.” 

Leylas stood up and tried to offer him a drink. He waved her off. She sighed.

“Your father warned me that—”

“With all due respect,” Caduceus growled, interrupting both her words and 11 am cocktail making. “My father does not get to warn anyone about me. My father might as well be dead.”

Leylas chuckled, turning around to face her wife. “Tisk. Daddy issues. My. You really did tell me, Q.”

Caduceus had to call on long practised calm and deep, internal breathing to convince himself not to respond.

“I will stay until the end of the tour,” he repeated firmly. “Until we are back in London, as was stated in my contract. Should you wish to negotiate the terms, then…”

“No, it’s fine,” Leylas sighed. “We were just testing a theory. So. What will you tell the others?”

Caduceus’ head snapped up. “Tell them? They already know all about my—”

“No, I meant about why you’re really here.”

His cheeks flushed again. “I’m their wellness manager. The position isn’t…new.”

“No, but the last one was also not really their ‘wellness manager’ either. At least they knew that  when Keg was around.”

“Still,” Cad said quietly, “I don’t see the need to tell them anything. If they knew before, then surely they can’t actually think that...” 

He couldn’t quite finish his sentence. Images of Beau and Yasha telling him everything they already knew about him flashed in front of his eyes. Then Caleb, in the car. And Nott.

And Fjord.

Leylas glowered at him. “I know you didn’t ask, but may I advise against continuing a falsehood? That’s not really the way forward with this group. If they decide you’ve lied to them...well. They don’t exactly forgive.”

Q cleared her throat. “Not strictly true,” she interjected. “There was the whole thing with Fjord…”

He forced neutrality on his face as he refused to look at her. He stood and took a step back toward the door.

“If that’s all?” he asked lightly.

“I still think you should take the out I’m offering right now, but yes. Technically, that’s all. We leave in an hour. Be a dear and make sure the others are on the bus? They tend to scatter when placed in the safety of a hotel.”

There was teasing in her words, but a fierce undertone of protective fondness accompanied Leylas’ tone. It was what had made him agree, made him take the job despite how little he wanted to be the Covert Heavy on this gig. He had, obviously, known that seeing Colton and having to use his connections would likely become a part of the whole debacle, but this expression on Leylas Kryn’s face was why he was standing here now. The Nein were her family. And as much as she loathed it, Leylas would protect them until the end of the earth. 

It was why he was here. And it was why he would stay. 

The bus was empty when he popped his keycard into the slot. It was messy, too. He could handle that. He needed the organization, the moments of silent contentment. He could be their Wellness Manager. The fact that he hadn’t really slept was weighing on him as he stowed his bag and got out his small bucket of supplies. The bus was an incredibly comforting place to organise your thoughts. Everything was tiny, contained. Everything had a place. It was satisfying to return it to order, especially because he was usually able to make his brain do the same. 

He stowed Nott’s complicated box of cables, tucked Beauregard’s journals back in their bag beneath the bench seat, sat Caleb’s pocket of weird trinkets in the seatback, piled the snacks into their cupboard. He lined up their tea mugs on the carefully enclosed shelf and began wiping down surfaces. The bed linens were next. Somewhere around the third bunk, it hit him. 

Caduceus Clay had seen his brother. Years had passed since that had last happened, and when it did, he’d been in a blind, white fury. Despite preparation for the moment, there was a classic list of things he hadn’t considered. 

He had not anticipated Avantika. Had not been ready for the brothers being there themselves. Things were worse than the rumours had even suggested. Things were worse than his father knew. He would have to do everything in his power to keep the knowledge from him. If there was one thing he knew well, it was that nature abhorred a vacuum. His father couldn’t know that there was a vacancy in the Families, that there was such a lack of funding that the brothers’ themselves were out after petty shakedowns on long-paid contracts. He’d take the knowledge to his grave. 

He hadn’t counted on Fjord. He hadn’t counted on Fjord being drugged, or Beau asking him what he’d taken, or Yasha knowing everything about where he’d come from. He should have been prepared, but he hadn’t been. 

He hadn’t considered how easy it was to redefine your purpose in life. He’d never even contemplated how quickly one could decide that some people were everything.

The door slamming open shattered his deep introspection and his cleaning meditation all at once. 

“Oh,” a voice said, stuffy and tired sounding. “Sorry, thought I was first. I...I uh, I was just going to sleep until…”

Caduecues gestured to the bunks. “Fresh sheets,” he murmured. 

Fjord looked terrible. Tired and ill, obviously, but there was something else there. Something likely only Cad would ever notice. 

He was also scared. 

Regardless, they moved around the coach in a practised ballet that was oddly comforting. Caduceus’ finished cleaning the kitchen. Fjord fished around in his overhead bin until he found a slightly cleaner t-shirt, then pulled it on over his head. 

When he lurched himself into the top bunk, Caduceus inhaled. There was less of a chance of meeting Fjord’s eye by accident if he was up high. He gathered up his rucksack and made himself a nest in the bench seats. He found a novel on his reader that he had neglected to start. He knew he was supposed to be gathering the others, but honestly, he couldn’t be bothered. If they were late, that wasn’t on him. Not today. They had some time to waste. 

There was a heavy silence that only lasted twenty minutes. 

“Were you going to tell me?” Fjord grumbled. 

The voice came out cracked, deranged. Angry. Their muffled quality from behind the thin bunk curtain did not hide their intended tone. 

“Would you have told me if I hadn’t found out?” Fjord repeated. 

The answer formed readily in Caduceus’ mind. He wasn’t one to pussyfoot. He didn’t lie. Never intentionally, at least. He knew he was going to say it, he just also winced as the word came out. 

“No.”

“Oh, fuck off, Caduceus. Not you, too. Anyone but you. I get it from Ley, but… you?” 

He’d anticipated the anger, based on what he knew, based more on all the things he didn’t know. But it stung, nonetheless, coming from Fjord. Coming from Fjord after the day before. The weight of him was sitting on his shoulders still, resting on his soul a little bit. A tiny bit of a ghost that he would likely carry forever; it was made up of seeing Fjord in that half-conscious state, of Beau’s face going pale and serious all at once, of the reality that Yasha had seen him before he’d ever seen her. 

His voice basically disappeared as he replied. “I had to make sure that everyone was—-“ 

“Save it.” 

“It is my greatest failure that I don’t know how to be truthful. I am honest, to a fault. But I don’t tell the truth.”

The silence returned for a moment. Caduceus sat in his little folded blanket space, waiting. There was a waiting atmosphere to the quiet. The understanding of silences was his best skill, he’d always thought. The forest taught you how to feel and listen with senses you weren’t always aware existed until you used them. He could sense the weight of a pause, the wariness of a moment, the drama of a quiet second. This one required his complacence, his patience. 

When Fjord stuck his head out of the curtain — his head and neck only, which might have been hilarious in any other circumstance, but was not now — Caduceus was already looking. He was ready, in a way he did not understand, for the question. 

“How do you do it?” Fjord asked quietly. “How do you remain...you. Knowing what you know. Seeing...what you’ve seen.”

There were spaces between the words that he instantly understood. He knew what we really being asked. There was the tone beneath it that was the same as Beau’s the night before, the one that had asked ‘what did he take’.

“Honestly?”

“No. Truthfully,” Fjord insisted. 

He smiled ruefully. “I identify things. Birds, if they’re around. Plants. Tea, in a pinch. He taught me. My father. It might seem foolish, to use him to forget him, but you’d be surprised. Understanding things, finding the quiet spaces between seeing and knowing. It’s calming.”

Fjord studied him for an uncomfortable moment. He nodded. 

“Will you teach me?”

Caduceus turned away, his face warming ever so slightly. It wasn’t a familiar sensation. It had to be because of the uncanny observation. The knowledge that this man had slept beside him the night before without so much as a flinch. No commentary, no recoil. That was all. The knowledge that held him bound by a gaze. 

“Of course, Fjord. If I am allowed to stay.”

Fjord sat up suddenly, his body appearing from behind his curtain, shirtless and foreboding. “What do you mean, if?”

He smiled down at his lap. A private, scared part of himself rejoiced. “Ley has suggested that my role is finished. That I should go.”

“Bullshit,” Fjord insisted. “She isn’t in charge of staff, no matter what she thinks. I signed your contract. You’re here until the end of the tour.”

Caduceus looked up at him. “I told her the same. But I wasn’t sure if—”

“You’re family, Cad. Shut up.”

“You should get some rest.”

Fjord’s gaze softened. He nodded once. “Are you going to be here for a bit?”

“Not going anywhere. Promise.”

Fjord nodded again and closed the curtain. Calmer, Caduceus resumed his watch.   

Chapter Text

Fjord didn’t actually sleep, though he did let himself fall completely silent as everyone filtered back onto the bus. There was going to be so much talking once they all saw him. He’d woken up this morning with an excruciating headache and that familiar feeling of utter disappointment and embarrassment. It didn’t really matter to him that this time, it wasn’t his fault. It had happened so many times before. In fact, it probably was now. He may not remember how he’d managed to find himself alone with Ava again, but it didn’t change the reality. 

It also didn’t change the fact that he’d be immediately forgiven. By Beau. By Yasha. They’d let it go. They’d probably be angry on his behalf, actually. They’d proven that before, when he’d intentionally put things into his body. When it hadn’t been violent, abusive, nonconsensual. He woke up and was forgiven, cared for. Loved. So what on earth would they do now? 

He already knew, and he wasn’t done punishing himself first. He was holding onto the fury, the rage. He remembered that. Why? Why did those thoughts carry through the fuzz of whatever he’d ingested? The moment his memory dropped off was when he was safe. Safe because he’d been removed from the bus. 

Not to mention the fact that he wasn’t ready to handle how nice it was to wake up in bed with someone. He did remember the feeling of Caduceus carrying him. No one had been able to carry him since he was about six. No one had tried, to be fair. He was six feet tall and had had green hair for a few decades. Not generally a person anyone thought to lift and move. But Cad, he’d not even given it a second thought. 

So, when he’d woken up in that bed, a respectful distance away, with no one else in the room, he’d felt no choice but to flee. An option he’d taken and immediately regretted. 

So he pretended to sleep. 

It was a short drive today, three hours max. And of course, traffic was on their side today. When the bus jolted to a stop, he sighed immediately. Beau’s face popped beneath the curtain a moment later. She poked his cheek. 

“Done feeling sorry for yourself yet?” 

“Not even close,” he retorted.

“Tough,” she declared, bouncing backwards. “Crew meeting!”

She gathered them all on the tarmac of the arena, smack dab in the middle of a mostly empty car park, waiting for them to all circle up. Caleb looked tired, Nott was bouncing from foot to foot, Yasha’s jacket was thrown over one shoulder and she looked bemused. He looked around at them, at his family, and found he understood everything that had happened until now. 

“Okay team,” Beau said. “This is it. You all know what happened. You all know why. We talked about it last night for a reason. We know he doesn’t need to relive it all, but I promised you questions.”

Nott cleared her throat. “Are we out of jobs now?”

“Nott,” Beau sighed. “Listen, questions for Fjord. ”

“I wasn’t complaining. It’d be nice to go home for a bit.”

“I have a question,” Caleb said quietly. Beau waved for him to continue. “Are you alright?”

Fjord nearly melted. This is what he knew was going to happen. He backed up a little from the circle. “No. I am not. I should have been honest with all of you. Something could have happened. Every time any of you went out. To the bar. The shops. Something could have happened.”

“Didn’t, though.” This was from Yasha, who shrugged. “We have always known you had...things. We can take care of ourselves.”

“But you shouldn’t have to!” Fjord interjected.

Caleb stepped toward him, arms folded. “Not the only one here with history. You know that. I do wish you would have come to us with trouble. We might have been able to help.”

“Pay them off, even,” Nott added. Caleb nodded.

Caduceus inhaled loudly. “Wouldn’t have worked.” 

“What?” Yasha said, turning to him. They were all facing him, in fact, this new person who was as much a part of them as anyone else. Fjord inhaled in a matching pace, knowing what was coming next.  

“It wouldn’t have worked to pay them off,” Caduceus repeated. “Not with...not for Fjord.” 

His voice had gone to the low place, the zone where you had to almost strain to hear him, and right now, it made Fjord want to crawl into a hole and die. How did they come back from this, the group? How did they have the places of safety and trust that they’d all had before?

“You can tell them why,” Fjord interrupted, quietly. “Please, you tell them.”

Caduceus nodded, staring at the pavement as he began again. “He and I have a shared history we didn’t know about. He was in it before he knew how to get out. The families don’t always advertise. I suspect that he would be willing to give you details, but it doesn’t really matter. This was never about some small debt. It was about control. Ownership.”

“Avantika,” Beau murmured.

“At first, yes. But he crossed her. She is just a cog. The band getting involved is what changed things.”

“Caleb knew first, didn’t he,” Beau asked Fjord.

“I think so,” Caduceus nodded. “When we picked up Yasha. I think he knew.”

“Knew what?” Nott demanded. 

“Cad is a ringer,” Beau chuckled. “Hired by Ley? Sound familiar?”

“I mean, sure, but…”

“For fuck’s sake,” Mollymauk rumbled. “You’re one of them, right?”

“One of them...well, yes. Not one of them . But. Yeah. Leylas thought perhaps I could...persuade some people. Using my connections.”

“Connections in crime families,” Molly deadpanned.

“The very same.”

“Man. We need to stop letting her hire people,” Molly sighed, shaking their head. 

Caduceus smiled, and the effect was depressing. Just sad enough that Fjord felt the need to stop this line of reasoning.

“No, I think that perhaps she got it right this time, don’t you?”

“Of course he did,” Yasha insisted. Fjord smiled at her gratefully. It was Yasha. She’d always understand. 

Nott looked at him with the narrowed eye look she always did when she was trying to sort out how much of what he was saying was trustworthy. He could never quite figure out how much of what she hated about him was real and how much was a front; at the end of the day, she always backed him up. 

“I have an idea,” Beau said suddenly. “There’s a show in three hours. It’s the first show in ages that we’re actually in charge of. The first one in ages where Ley could play literally anything she wants to. Do you think perhaps we could just make this one really, really good? You know. Like a celebration.”

“A ‘look Fjord didn’t get us all killed and now we don’t own money to the mob’ type of show?’” Caleb asked. 

“Exactly!”

“I have just the light set up,” he muttered and began walking away.

“I better go help him,” Nott added. 

“I’ll go get the setlist from her,” Jester announced, linking arms with Molly and dragging them along behind her. “Caduceus?” she called behind her. “Coming?”

Caduceus smiled at Fjord and Beau, but the smile had shifted; it was a new, unburdened thing. 

“I guess I can stay?” he declared as he started to follow her. Yasha reached up and ruffled his hair, following Jester. 

Beau chuckled as she turned back around. 

“Is that...is that all?”

“Guess so,” she shrugged. 

“I don’t understand.”

“I meant what I said. We talked about it yesterday. Not the first time. They don’t care. We all have our shit. They want you safe. They want you to be happy. Basically, that’s all they want.”

“I wish everyone would stop saying that. Everyone having other stuff doesn’t just forgive me putting you all in harm's way for basically the entire time you’ve known me.”

Beau shrugged. “I can’t make them not forgive you. We have three more shows, babe. Make it work.” 

She threw an arm over his shoulders awkwardly and slapped him on the back. She guided him into the arena. He spent the day dealing with completely normal, predictable problems. The types of tiny glitches that went wrong at every single concert on every single continent in every single band in history. Things like losing cables or having the wrong set of plugs. Things like Quana’s tiny meltdown about the loss of two flower crowns. Or like Nott deciding at the last second that they needed three smoke machines, not two. He was ready for each of them, and each thing got solved before it turned into anything worth noting. There was a moment in the middle of the chaos, as the lights went down and Yasha returned to the stage doors with the all-clear, where he realized he hadn’t looked over his shoulder all day. He hadn’t checked the coach lot for hours. He hadn’t turned his phone on and off obsessively to make sure he hadn’t missed any messages. 

As the completely regular openers took the stage, Fjord found himself exhaling fully for the first time in months. 

The show definitely wasn’t perfect. There were several moments where things didn’t quite stitch together, where cues were missed and lyrics were forgotten. Leylas abandoned the setlist near the end of the show, sitting down on a stool she’d pulled from under the keyboard and playing the quietest song she had on her repertoire. And the audience loved it. They sat in raptured quiet as she offered them new things, full of hope and longing and promise. 

Hours later, the crew all piled back onto the coach to drive straight to their second to last show; no surprise busses awaited them, no suspicious cars followed them as they headed out of the arena. Caduceus busied himself with cups of cocoa and newly washed blankets that he’d pulled from god knows where. They settled down in clumps and clusters throughout the coach, and an air of calm, safe, and settled exhaustion took over almost immediately. 

“Hm,” Nott mused as she accepted her mug. “You know what, Mr Clay? You are officially my favourite gang affiliate ever.” 

“Careful, Fjord will hear you,” Molly teased.

“I know what I said,” Nott replied glibly, winking at Fjord and cackling at her own joke. 

Chapter Text

Fjord basically jumped from his seat, where he had slumped into a weird, unrestful sleep. Clearly, he had been trying to write out a list of shit he had to accomplish in the next twenty-four hours if they were going to survive the last two shows. He also apparently had not made it to his bunk.

“Sorry, hope I didn’t wake you,” came the soft, low voice beside him that had been troubling him in sleep as well. Fjord tried to mask his second jolt of surprise with a slightly unnecessary search for his phone.

“Hey, Cad,” he finally managed. “Didn’t see you.”

“Yes, sorry. I didn’t mean to be...here. Only, Jester is stretched out across the front bench, and Caleb left all of his notes—”

“No, no,” Fjord interrupted awkwardly. “It’s— I shouldn’t be sleeping here. We have space for that. You...you’re not sleeping?”

Caduceus smiled his soft, open smile, his head rolling on his seat slightly. “No,” he answered simply.

His hair was braided, a Beau design if the twists on the top were any indication; Fjord always found it disarming when his pink curls were contained, the complex patterns shaved into the sides on full display. He didn’t like having the full force of Cad’s focused gaze on him. He wondered how he always seemed so mysteriously neat, despite the roughness of living on the road. Now, for example, he wore a soft white shirt, unbuttoned to his sternum, and the kind of loose pants that he apparently had in significant abundance.

 Fjord checked his watch. 

“Nearly three,” he muttered, trying to mask his delayed silence and observation.

“That it is. We’re apparently rolling in about half an hour late.” Caduceus shrugged with that small smile still pasted on his face. “Not that anyone else will notice. I am sorry I woke you, though. You just looked...unhappy.”

Fjord turned back to the window, heat rising to his face. “Weird dreams.”

“That’s not surprising, given the past two days. I assume having drugs forced into your body when you’re six months sober would discombobulate anyone.” 

As usual, the blatant observation, the open honesty of Clay, threw him and his thoughts reeled. In the daylight, he could somewhat protect himself from this effect of their resident wellness manager. Not at night, though. At night he was fragile and not great at pretending to be stoic. Fjord knew immediately that, against his will, his disturbed psyche was about to spill out before this large, pink-haired man who hadn’t asked anything. A man he was completely bewildered by. There wasn’t a thing he could do to stop it.

“Yeah,” he replied, “I, uh...I guess. Who..? Beau?”

He shook his head. “Just a guess, based on available evidence. Does make me angrier, though,” Caduceus said, brows tightening. “She had no right.”

“She rarely does, but I’m not exactly faultless.”

He nodded at Fjord, the gesture gentle and fuzzy, as he rested his head solidly on the headrest and his eyes fluttered closed. He looked so relaxed, so content. It made Fjord’s heart stutter slightly, seeing ease on another human so shortly after his head had stopped playing tricks on them. 

“You know, we just restart now,” he muttered. 

"Simple as that, hey?" Fjord replied, chuckling. 

“Yes. Also, I happen to be an excellent listener,” Caduceus continued. 

Fjord jolted a little. A listener is not what he needed, not that he knew how to explain what it was that he did need. All anyone ever did around here was tell him they were listening. When you rolled through the crowd you did, it was so boring and commonplace to struggle with addiction; he honestly didn’t need more open ears. He needed to… well, not be here anymore, but that was such a complicated thought that he wasn’t sure where to start. Particularly not with Caduceus, who both barely knew him and yet understood everything about him and made him feel vulnerable and exposed and held and loved and terrified. 

“I…” Fjord started.

“No obligation, of course,” Caduceus added softly.

Fjord sighed. “Not to make this more...dramatic than it already is. I have just been thinking too much. Lately.”

Caduceus opened one eye, a wry smirk replacing his placid smile.

“Fine. Always,” Fjord conceded.

“Understandable, given the circumstances,” Caduceus suggested. 

Fjord returned the smirk with a sheepish grin that felt odd and out of place on his face. It had been a while, he supposed, since he’d smiled naturally. Which was a sad state of affairs, to be honest? The thought made him immediately grimace. 

Unfortunately, Caduceus was still watching him. The change in his own face brought a pained expression to Cad’s that made Fjord squirm. He looked away, ashamed. He honestly was no good for anyone here. He’d known it for months. 

It was time to move on. 

“We do not choose what we are unsettled by,” Caduceus said gently. 

Abruptly, Fjord found himself the recipient of a friendly arm pat. It was a perfectly natural gesture, of course. The comfort of a friend. The comfort of a person who spent way too much time with another person. Comfort that had his stomach doing backflips, his heart stammering at the simplicity of the action. Fjord cleared his throat before he let his emotions run away with him and yet still, felt bereft when the hand retreated at a perfectly innocent interval. 

“I think it’s time for me to find a new job,” he exhaled, letting out the thought that had been with him for months. If anyone was going to hear him and actually understand , it was Caduceus.

 “Some people, they can do this forever,” He continued. “The road. The shows. The fans and the afterparties. The drama in all the middle spaces. I always used to think I would be one of them, despite everything. Despite my...connections. I loved it. I needed it.”

“To be fair, this hasn’t been a normal ‘tour’ by any stretch of the imagination,” Cad added, with his usual simplicity.

“No.”

“Yet, you still seem surprised by the feeling that you might have finished this chapter of your life.” 

“...yes. A bit. Can you blame me?” 

“Not at all. I’ve done it. Finished with them. It leaves you oddly bereft. You just have to make sure you know why. What’s changed, Fjord? What’s so different from the road before this all started.”

Everything. Nothing, Fjord thought. Both things were true. Both were answers that would simplify the conversation, if only because Caduceus wouldn’t prod for details. 

Unfortunately, neither was the right answer. 

“I think I did,” he finally whispered. 

He turned back to find Caduceus wearing Fjord’s favourite expression; the sad, soulful smile and furrowed brow that made him seem so real. That smile hurt Fjord to the core, made him want to desperately reach out and embrace. It was completely ridiculous, but he had also decided that he was probably the only one on the tour who even saw the expression for what it was. Caduceus Clay had constructed a carefully controlled character. He was a simple man. A hippy without care, easily placated and rarely emotional. But Fjord knew a mask when he saw one, having worn one himself for most of his adult life. Even before he’d known why, Fjord had seen straight through Caduceus. Even in that diner, all those months ago, he’d known the truth. 

The weight of the world sat in Caduceus' mask. It spoke of a loneliness and a fear that had been sorted through with a great deal of hard-ass work. And Fjord loved these moments, the ones where the real Cad seeped out just slightly. The times when he looked less like an ethereal, untouchable presence and became so wonderfully human that it made Fjord ache. 

“Change,” Caduceus replied, deep and low and vibrating Fjord’s every molecule with its intensity. “The most painful thing in nature. And also the most necessary.”

Fjord opened his mouth, hoping to at least agree and cut off this line of conversation. Instead, tears sprang to his eyes. 

He gulped and pulled his hands down through his too-long hair; he needed a cut. He needed to shave. He wanted a hot bath and a proper load of clean laundry that would smell like home. Any home, honestly, just so long as it masked the starch and no-name, bulk-purchased detergent. He wanted to live in rooms that hadn’t been bleached until the only essence remaining was sterile anonymity. He wanted to smell like softener he had chosen and the candles he always bought and never lit. He wanted to wake up and smell another person on his sheets.

He just wanted .

“It’s okay to want something more,” Caduceus said, as though Fjord had said it all out loud. 

He was watching the tears slide down Fjord’s cheeks, patiently waiting for him to find his centre again. Just as he always did. And Fjord didn’t have a response for that. Not one that wouldn’t just be humiliatingly truthful. Not one that wouldn’t be the cheesy words that hopped into his brain and told him to just tell Caduceus’ that he knew exactly what he wanted. So he nodded. He nodded and he wiped his face with his palm and he took a deep breath.

“It's just two more days,” Caduceus continued. “Two days and we fly back to London, back to your home. You can go to your flat, take a break. No harm done. You can figure out what's next then, once you’re back in familiar territory. The mess. It’s done.” 

The statement was true. And therefore it was also terrifying. He always longed for his shitty little flat when he was away, desperate for a bed that didn’t bump around as he slept, or wasn’t filled with one to three other people who he hadn’t invited in. But when he got there, he was always lonely. Always miserable that the place was quiet and uninterrupted and as neat as he'd left it. And he was able to remember that second feeling, for the first time ever, before he’d even gotten off the bus. 

Because Caduceus Clay was looking at him with so much desperate pain and longing and confusion. More confusion than he felt himself, which should have been impossible.

Even though they’d likely been headed here for weeks, Fjord only made the decision right then. He might be accused of having planned it, later. By Beau. By Jester. But he hadn’t. When he moved, it was so sure, so swift, with no trace of awkwardness; the comfort of confidence only lasted about five seconds once he had reached his destination.  

He’d straddled Caduceus’ lap in the wide bus seats. And instantly felt like an idiot. A teenager trying to recreate a rom-com moment that wasn’t based in reality. But when he dared to look down, he found openness on Caduceus’ face soothed just enough fear that he didn’t retreat; he was bewildered, shocked, but pleased. Hesitant in that aching way again. Fjord recognized the emotion immediately because he was pretty sure he looked exactly the same.

Caduceus didn't think he deserved this.

Fjord reached down and fingered the fuzzy hair at the nape of Cad's neck. He drifted a hand slowly across his earrings, taking a strange path with both hands until he found his fingers in a braid.

“I don't like this,” he murmured, so close to Cad’s face now that he could see the flutter of his eyelids even in the darkness. “Too hard to look away from your eyes when your curls are all corralled. I don't think we'll survive that right now.” 

He gently tugged at the end of the braid and found the tie. He dragged it out, not bothering to catch it because, at that moment, Caduceus seemed to unfreeze and decide he was going to act. 

Fjord’s mind and body were suddenly occupied, and his hands were left to their own devices. Luckily, his hands had been independently dreaming of unreserved stroking of the velvet hair beneath the curl and their path didn’t change. One tangled itself into the crown so it could pull at bubblegum strands and drag more of it into his personal space. The other caressed the smoothness of a freshly shaved undercut, unconsciously tracing the slightly shorter hair there in their intricate loops.

Caduceus' own hands had merely gripped his hips. He’d pulled Fjord closer until their foreheads touched. There, Fjord found his home. It was a dramatic thought, but it was there. Never had a person understood so much of him and so little of him at the same time. He’d spend the next millennia undoing all the walls they both had up, if Caduceus would let him. The man seemed frozen on a precipice, one Fjord had leapt down a week earlier. 

He hadn’t told him, of course; they’d had a few other things to deal with first, a few moments of trust to rebuild. He knew it because it was an essential step in forming a friendship, let alone anything else. But the story he wanted to tell Clay now wasn’t the one he’d told him on the coach the day after his life had been saved. 

The story he wanted to tell was the one where, in the middle of the night, he’d woken up from feverish, drug-fuelled dreams, to find himself safely nestled into bed with a very large man. A man whose curls had gone wild on the pillow, whose unguarded face was pained and scared, but whose eyelashes curled on soft, gentle cheeks. Fjord wanted to tell Cad about the innocence he’d witnessed, about how safe he’d been in that second. 

He wanted to tell Cad that he remembered the moments on the bus, remembered when Cad had lifted him with a strength that was both shocking and unsurprising. He wanted to explain how sexy it had been to watch him stand up to Avantika as he’d never managed to do himself. He wanted Caduceus to know that he’d been feeling this way since well before the bus. That it wasn’t some sort of saviour-complex fuelled boner. 

But he couldn’t tell him any of this, because Caduceus clearly needed a moment. He gripped Fjord’s hips again and inhaled. 

“You need to know something,” he whispered, causing Fjord to tense up. “One more thing. I’ve….I don’t tend to want this. People. Not, you know... like this.” 

“God, Caduceus, I’m sorry,” Fjord murmured. “I’ll move.” 

“Don’t you dare.” 

Fjord froze. 

“I just...I need you to be prepared. It's not that I haven’t...I...” Caduceus chuckled, the sound coming out as light and breathy. “But it never…” 

“Cad, what is it, please. You can tell me.” 

He exhaled. “What if you want something I can’t give you?” 

Fjord laughed this time. He cradled Cad by the neck, carefully adding pressure where their foreheads were still connected.

“Silly man,” Fjord replied. “You don’t have to give me anything . We don’t have to be defined by them, the world. By anything else. Haven’t both of us had enough of that?” 

“But eventually, you’ll grow tired of…” 

“What?” 

“Me. The way I am.” 

Fjord laughed loud enough that he was sure he’d wake up the whole bus. “You know what, Cad? Challenge accepted. Now. Will you please come sleep beside me so that we can both get some shut-eye?” 

“Sleep?”

“Yes. Remember sleep?” 

“But, don’t you...what about…” 

“Darling man. I read between those lines already. Do you know what I need from you? This. Trust. Listening. Nothing else. Nothing you don’t want to give.” 

“Caleb warned me not to hurt you. You need to hear it from me now. So I can’t hurt you.” 

“Caleb can suck an egg."

Fjord pulled himself up carefully, grabbing Caduceus' hand and dragging him behind him, towards a too small bunk that they would fill with tiny, whispered secrets.

Months later, when they had both found London too loud and too brazen and too full of pasts neither of them wanted, Fjord handed in an official resignation. They moved to the countryside, bought a small plot of land. They lived in separate houses, bordering the edges of a shared field. Most nights, Caduceus would show up at Fjord’s door with some sort of baked good or homemade cider or a new blend of tea. They would sit beside a fire, even on the hottest days, and eat in silence. They were free and they had love, not to mention a near-constant rotating door of ragtag musicians who looked extremely out of place in their little mud-filled fields. 

And, at the end of the days, they would wind up curled around each other in perfectly sized beds, talking of everything and nothing. They were together; they also were not. And it was so much more than enough.