Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You realize this is fucking stupid, right? Dairon is going to kill you for getting back into all of this.”

Beau doesn’t bother responding, just continues shoving wraps, gloves, mouth-guards, robes and sports bras out of her locker and into a duffle.

“This is Ikithon we’re talking about.”

“Yep.”

“And his lackeys.”

“I know, Fjord.”

“They’re the ones who fucked Caleb up so-”

Beau rounds on him then, finally looking up from her bag, “I fucking know, okay Fjord? Why the hell else would I be doing this?”

Her hands are clenched tight on the zipper so Fjord can’t see how much she’s shaking. She’s told herself exactly how stupid it is over and over again for the last few days. Since she saw Eodwulf duck out of the back room of the library and found Caleb in there, sheet white and making that awful gasping noise he makes when the panic sweeps in.

(“Caleb, hey man, you’ve gotta work with me here, just for a minute,” but his eyes were glassy and his nails were rasping over the material of the shirt covering his arms. She caught his hands deftly, and he barely resisted when she pulled them apart from each other.

“We’re getting you home, okay? And then I’m calling Veth. And Essek honestly.”

“N-no, n-not home. Don’t… don’t call her. Him… either of them, they- worry and-”

“News flash dude, I’m worried. And Eodwulf is a reason to worry.” Caleb shuddered at his name and Beau squeezed her grip on his arm in apology.

“They weren’t supposed to find me.” He whispered, almost to himself, sagging and Beau guided him down into the rickety chair in the backroom so she could start gathering his stuff and hers.

“I know. We can handle this.” Beau tried to sound more sure than she was. Caleb had sunk, forehead to the desk, curled in on himself. There was a snap! and Frumpkin appeared in his lap. He immediately started purring and nuzzling up under Caleb’s chin and once Beau could see his fingers buried deep in the fae-cat’s fur, she turned away and whipped out her phone.

To: Jester

Grab Y&Z and then call F&C. And Veth. Everyone meet at the backdoor of the tea shop in 30. We’ll call E. I’ve got Caleb. It’s not good.

She fired off the text and then shoved her phone back in her pocket. Caleb’s research was strewn across three tables, pushed together end to end and Beau did her best to organize it the way he liked before tucking it in a file folder. Her phone buzzed. Jester.

how bad? scale of hour of honor to (flame emoji)?

Beau huffed a little and then tapped out, ‘Rexxentrum’.

shit. Came the response.

Yeah. He’s got the cat but we’re getting out of the library.

see you soon xo

Beau pocketed her phone again and threw everything into Caleb’s satchel. He was still pressed nose to nose with Frumpkin who was purring up a storm. Slinging both their backpacks over her shoulder, Beau centered herself for a moment, scrubbing blunt nails through the undercut above her ear before stepping up to Caleb’s side. She settled a hand on his shoulder and took it as a good sign that he didn’t flinch.

“Come on, we’re heading out.”

“M-my r-r-research,” His breathing was still unsteady and Beau squeezed a little.

“It’s all packed up. We’re done for the day, man. Let’s go.” She got a hand under his elbow and hoisted him up. Frumpkin scampered his way up and draped himself around to scarf Caleb’s neck. The librarians shot them a look as they made their way through the front lobby (familiars weren’t generally welcome in the library) but one look from Beau and they let it slide. Just this once. Thank the Gods for Dairon’s sway within the library.

Caleb was shaking and Beau kept her hand clamped tight around his arm until they’d made their way across the parking garage and she had him settled in the front seat of her shitty old Jeep. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing up the entire time, even with her head on a swivel but no one seemed to pay them any attention.

She blasted the AC as high as it would go, even though it didn’t work very well and the summer heat of Zadash was oppressive. Caleb still wrapped his ratty cardigan tighter around himself and stared blankly as she whipped out into the remarkably light afternoon traffic.)

“They have magic, Beau,” Fjord still hasn’t let it go, “And you’re a hell of a fighter but-”

“Thanks for that, jackass,” Beau grunts, turning back to her locker, even though it’s mostly empty. Just a couple hair ties and a cartoon-ish drawing from Jester remain, “I know I’m not special like the rest of you but I can still punch ghosts. That counts for something.”

“No. Shit, Beau, that’s not what I meant.” Beau ignores him as Fjord attempts to pull his foot out of his mouth and instead gently plucks the drawing from its place of honor on the back wall of her locker. It’s the only decoration, an ink drawing of Beau smirking and winking as she throws a flying kick into the face of one of the obnoxious higher level fighters from one of the other martial arts schools around Zadash. It was her first (legal and sanctioned) fight and Beau had the dude on the mat in the first round. It’s Beau’s favorite drawing.

She folds it gently and places it in the side pocket with her deodorant. Fjord is still talking himself in guilty circles.

“Not to mention how upset Jester is going to be that you’re going up against actual fucking magic users.”

“It’s not like I haven’t done it before.”

“Not alone you haven’t, not in a while,” Fjord shoots back and Beau rolls her eyes.

“Well then, this is why we aren’t telling her, Fjord,” she snaps, slamming the locker shut and not bothering to lock it, “You, me, Cad and Zuala are the fight team, remember? Yasha, Veth and Essek are on Caleb duty to make sure he doesn’t find out and Jester stays in the dark too.”

“Is that really what you want?” Fjord starts, “She’s your best friend and if you got hurt-”

“I’m gonna get hurt, dude. It’s a foregone conclusion. I don’t want her to…” Beau doesn’t know how to finish, doesn’t know if she could handle being in the ring, knowing that Jester’s watery purple eyes are watching as fire and acid and whatever other magic is being hurled at her. Doesn’t want Jester to see if they actually managed to-

“She can’t know.”

“What if she already does?”

Beau freezes and slowly her eyes slide shut, “Are you fucking KIDDING ME, FJORD?”

"She was coming up with this elaborate plan with her duplicate and…” His eyes are wide in panic and he’s throwing his hands around as if that will help his case, “It was just ridiculous and even more dangerous than this, somehow, so I may have let it slip that you had a plan and-”

“Is that why you’re suddenly so against the plan? Because Jester sent you to try to stop me?”

“Not solely, no! I’m still not sure this is a good idea but-”

“I can’t go home now.”

“That where your good fighting clothes are.”

“Yeah, I know, I’ll ask Z to bring them with her.”

Fjord’s quiet for a moment too long and Beau sighs heavily.

“Jester took them and hid them, didn’t she?”

His continued silence is the only answer she needs.

“Shit.”

Chapter Text

There’s a cacophony of crashing from the kitchen when Beau lets herself into the townhouse she, Jester, Yasha and Zuala share. Fuck. Jester tended to bake when she was upset and by the smell of it, everything’s been coming out burnt. Double fuck. Beau shuffles toward the kitchen, cutting through the living room first. Zuala is perched on Yasha’s lap on one of the easy chairs. They both look thoroughly uncomfortable.

“Fjord told her?” Beau asks, just for confirmation. Yasha nods and Zuala smirks a little.

“Folded under questioning,” she snarks.

“He meant to be noble and it just fell apart,” Yasha amends.

“No, I think Z’s got it right on the nose,” Beau grunts. There’s an especially loud clatter from the kitchen and Beau winces. At least it didn’t sound like breaking glass.

“How long’s she been like this?”

“You left for the gym around 11. Fjord left just after noon. I came down around 1 for lunch and there was already a batch of cinnamon rolls so…” Zuala shrugs, “You do the math.”

“Shit,” Beau groans, “Any idea where my clothes are?”

“Be surprised if she didn’t chuck them in the oven with the first pan of muffins,” Zuala mutters.

“She wouldn’t,” Yasha nudges Zuala’s leg gently in admonishment.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Jester’s voice is like venom and they all jump to find her standing in the doorway to the kitchen. It should be hard to be afraid of her, pink, lollipop patterned apron and the small green spatula in her hand, but the glare on her face and the wafts of icy air radiating off her are more than enough.

“Jessie-” Beau starts, taking a few steps forward and dropping her bag safely next to the chair Zuala and Yasha are occupying. Zuala subtly kicks it around the back as an extra precaution.

“Don’t ‘Jessie’ me, Beau,” she’s spitting mad and even as Beau gets closer, the temperature around her drops a good 5 degrees, “What the hell are you thinking?”

“It’s funny, Fjord basically said the same thing earlier.” It’s feeble at best and Jester doesn’t even deign to acknowledge it. She spins on her donut-socked heels and stalks back into the kitchen. Beau doesn’t even realize she’s following until a staggering amount of baked goods are piled in front of her. The kitchen table is all but buried under cookies and donuts and biscuits.

“It’s bad enough that you’re going up against the people who hurt Caleb but you lied to me about it!” Jester whirls on Beau and, like a punch to the solar plexus, she sees tears in Jester’s eyes.

“I was trying to protect you from-”

“Did it ever occur to you that I don’t fucking need protecting, Beau?” She all but shrieks and Beau winces because of course she knows Jester doesn’t need protecting. Jester with her muscles and her smiles and her belief so strong she made a god. Hell, she’s been the one to remind the boys that Jester can take care of herself on more than one occasion. But Beau’s always been an idiot where Jester was concerned.

(It was the last night of their annual beginning-of-summer Nicodranas trip, just a week and a half ago. Just like every year, they planned it so they can leave the morning after the High Season Street Festival. Jester explained its origin once, the first year, but they were all too drunk to remember exact details and then too embarrassed to actually ask about it again. Beau thought of it as similar to the Harvest Close Festival in Zadash, just a fun summer version with better booze and a beach. And no Victory Pit, though fighting sea monsters would be so cool.

They caroused, shopped, ate street food, got a little too drunk for public decency. (Jester laughed and dragged Beau around by the hand, sipping a milkshake the whole time. Beau tried not to read anything into the way Jester’s fingers laced so delicately between hers. Nope. Just Jester being Jester. Didn’t matter that she was only holding Beau’s hand), and eventually ended up on the Lavish Chateau’s private beach as the sun was setting pink and gold on the horizon. Jester’s nose and cheeks were tinged sunburn purple as she turned and laughed at some crack Zuala had made about Fjord and the fish market and Beau felt her stomach flop when Jester caught her eye, hoping to share the joke. She could only stare.

“I’m going to go get Mama, okay? She always likes coming out for the fireworks part.” Jester was saying when Beau shook herself out of the trance of watching her.

“Oh yeah, cool. I’m glad she wants to come out for it.”

Jester beamed again and squeezed Beau’s hand (when had she taken it again in the first place? Had they ever let go?), “I’m really excited.”

The grin melted onto Beau’s face. The alcohol had faded to just the faintest buzz in her system and if it had been any more she might have given in to the impulse to lean forward, close the gap between them and-

“Yeah. It’s gonna be great.” Beau squeezed Jester’s hand back before the other girl trailed her fingers away and went racing up the rickety stairs to the Chateau.

Just as Jester disappeared up to the street, something heavy swung over her shoulder and Zuala pulled her into a soft noogie, “Man, you’re such a soft bitch.”

Beau wrestled herself away easily and popped Zuala lightly on the shoulder, “Shut the hell up, you’re the married one.” This was Zuala’s first time on the summer trip with them and she’d spent most of it trailing after Yasha like a puppy dog, and sighing in adoration whenever the sun caught the arch of her cheek bone or the silver of her hair ornaments.

“I mean, can you blame me?” Zuala instantly softened, staring over at where her wife is knelt in the sand, letting Luc talk her ear off about something or other and helping him mold a small castle of sand.

“No,” Beau teased, “You know how much I flirted with her before I knew about you two.”

“Yeah,” Zuala snorted and returned Beau’s punch, “So I’m entitled to giving you shit about Jes.”

“Dude, it’s never gonna happen.” Beau tried not to sound put out. She really did.

“Yeah because you’re too scared to make an actual move! Beau. She held your hand like. All. Day.”

“She’s just naturally touchy.” Don’t even hope.

“Didn’t see her holding onto anyone else like that.”

“I’m her best friend.” She probably doesn’t even like girls

“For the whole day?”

“I was drunk.” She felt bad for me. It was a pity thing.

“You’ve been sloppier.”

“Why the hell would she feel that way about me anyway!” Beau finally exploded, knocking Zuala’s hand away and glaring out at the ocean.

“Good Gods.” Zuala muttered, throwing her hands up and walking away, “You’re just set on being a miserable idiot then? Fine.”

“Like you were any better with Yash!” Beau bluffed after her as she walked away toward where Caleb and Essek are setting up a picnic blanket mid-air to watch the fireworks, “I’ve heard stories!”

“Please, I was the one making all the moves,” Zuala shot back over her shoulder.

She was right, Yasha would definitely have been the awkward one in that situation, “Dammit.” Beau muttered, scuffing a toe in the sand and watching Zuala nuzzle up against Yasha’s back. Yasha just carried on with talking to Yeza and Caduceus, Luc busy destroying the sand castle with his wooden sword, but she patted her hand gently over where Zuala’s snaked around her waist.

Beau blew out a sigh and stared out as the last slices of the sun began to disappear over the horizon. The water started to go from blue to purple as the sky darkened. There was the distant slamming of a door and a melodious laugh that they’d all come to know as Marion’s. She was always a gracious host when they came to town. She invited Beau to tea when she and Jester took it on her patio in the afternoon sometimes. She genuinely seemed interested in everyone her daughter had brought home.

Being in Nicodranas had done exactly nothing to quell the crush that Beau had been nursing for the better part of six months. Jester was always a little happier here, a little more excitable and seeing her like that sent Beau’s heart flying and her imagination ran wild. It was ridiculous, Beau kept telling herself. Jester was her best friend and her roommate and… C’mon, she was Jester. Someone like Beau would never be good enough for her. Whatever pleasantries Marion put on when they all came to visit, it would be different if- Not even saying that Jester would bring her home in any other capacity because there was absolutely no way that-

“Yes, Caleb and Essek did the thing!” Jester’s excited voice broke Beau from her contemplation and she turned. Marion had on a loose pair of high-waisted cotton pants and a flowing shirt. Her horns curled delicately out from a sun hat, even though it was nearly dark now and she beamed as her daughter jogged the last couple of steps to the three huge beach blankets, suspended 6 feet off the ground.

“Ja, I have washed sand out of my hair enough times during this trip, we deserve a little something fancy tonight.” Caleb smiled softly at Essek as he spoke and the drow (in a sunhat very like Marion’s) nodded.

“Yes, I thought this could be just a small thank you for the incredible hospitality and kindness you have shown me, inviting me on this trip to join you and-”

“You’re part of the Mighty Nein, Essek,” Veth interrupted, “Don’t be weird about it.”

They all chuckled and started to clamber their way up. Essek looped an arm around Caleb’s waist and levitated them both up onto one, Yasha and Zuala giving Luc, Yeza and Veth a boost onto another. Caduceus, Fjord, Yasha and Zuala took the one in the middle with Caleb and Essek.

“Oh Mama, watch,” Jester reached out to take Marion’s hand and with a poof! and a puff of pink smoke they disappeared, only to reappear moments later, on top of the blanket. Marion pressed a hand to her chest in surprise, a bit winded and surprised to find herself somewhere new.

Beau chuckled under her breath. Dimension Door with Jester was disconcerting even when you were expecting it.

“Oh, my Sapphire,” Marion gasped a little, “That was… very impressive. But perhaps, next time, a little warning?”

Jester deflated a little bit but nodded, “Right, yeah. Sorry, Mama.”

“Oh no, do not look sad, I was just surprised is all.” Marion tucked a lock of hair behind Jester’s ear.

“Yeah, Jester, even when I know it’s coming, it surprises me,” Beau wasn’t sure why she spoke up but Marion’s soft look told her it had been the right move, “It’s still super fuckin’ cool though.”

“Thanks Beau,” It was bashful in a way Jester usually wasn’t.

In the distance, a band struck up, music wafting gently over the water to their cove. It was the same song as every year, signaling that the fireworks would be starting soon.

“Oh, Beau, come up here with us,” Jester chirped, reaching a hand down and Beau let herself be hauled up onto the blanket. Jester wriggled between Beau and Marion, settling the skirt of her sun dress and dropping her sandals off the side of the blanket. Caleb sent up a few globules of light for them all to see by as they unpacked the picnic Jester had insisted on and made themselves sandwiches and opened chip bags and containers of fruit.

“Picnic was a good idea,” Beau muttered around a mouthful of sandwich and Jester, cheeks bulging, wrinkled her nose in place of smiling.

They finished eating in the relative quiet that the private beach afforded and Beau took one quick swig from a bottle of her family’s wine before tossing it over onto the blanket where Fjord, Caduceus, Caleb, Essek, Zuala and Yasha were cramped together. All but Caduceus took a bit but Beau refused it when they tried to hand it back.

“Nah, y’all keep it, I’m good.”

There was an upswing of noise, surprise at Beau refusing booze, but she sent them all the finger, laughing it off and they quieted down. She couldn’t risk it. Jester looked so pretty, the cream sundress complimenting her blue skin and the little tints of sunburn and-

And they were holding hands again. How and when the hell had that happened? Jester’s cool blue fingers were interlocked with hers, settled on the blanket between them. As Beau watched, Jester’s thumb even trailed lightly across the line of Beau’s index finger.

There was an explosion and a gasp from everyone around them. The sky lit up in a shower of green and purple sparks as the show began. Jester squealed and squeezed Beau’s hand.

“It’s starting!” She laughed, leaning her head on Marion’s shoulder for a moment before wiggling her way even closer to Beau.

Another explosion, strobes of blue and gold. The concussive force hammered in Beau’s chest and she was squeezing Jester’s hand back. A brocade that started red but faded to a sunny orange. Showers of sparks, successive echoing booms as one after another, temporary stars flared in the sky. Beau couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. The excitement got to her every year and the added electricity of Jester holding her hand was zipping through, making her feel tingly all over.

 After a particularly bright purple and blue willow, Beau’s eyes shifted back to Jester like gravity, only to find that Jester was already watching her.

“It’s a good one this year.” Beau couldn’t think of anything else to say because for the first time in a long time, there was something in Jester’s face that was foreign.

Jester leaned in close and murmured into Beau’s ear, “I need to show you something, can you come with me?”

Mouth dry, Beau rasped back, “Now? Don’t you wanna see-”

“We’re not going far, it’s just- Please, Beau?” As if Beau could ever deny her anything.

Beau nodded mutely and easily slid off the side of the blanket. Jester followed, not bothering to put her sandals back on and then reaching out for Beau’s hand. It hung there in the air between them for a moment too long and Jester looked crest-fallen as she started to pull back but Beau quickly took it again, weaving their fingers together and trying to slow her breathing. It wasn’t working.

There was no smile on Jester’s face but her eyes were light as she tugged Beau back toward the rocky cliffs and outcroppings behind the blankets on the beach. The rest of their family continued to watch the show, Zuala with her head in Yasha’s lap, legs dangling off the side of the blanket, Caduceus’s arm crossed low behind Fjord’s back, Luc cheering at every explosion from Veth’s lap and peppering his parents with questions that Yeza could barely keep up with. Essek was resting in the V of Caleb’s legs. Beau glanced back at them one more time before turning to find Jester pulling them into a secluded area between rocks. It was dark enough now, that only the explosions of fireworks really let Beau see her face.

“Jes, I can barely see over here, I forgot my goggles up in the Chateau. What did you want to show me?”

“I just. I wanted to do this away from everyone else.” Jester’s voice was almost never that soft and then her eyes were fluttering closed and their hands parted so both of Jester’s could come up and frame Beau’s cheeks and then-

A silver chrysanthemum firework lit up the sky as Jester pressed her lips against Beau’s and Beau only saw it for a split second as her eyes widened. Upon realizing that holy fuck this is happening Beau let her eyes drift shut and took a step in, closer.

 After that, her entire world shrunk, only composed of Jester. Jester’s hands on her face, Jester’s hair blowing across her cheeks, Jester’s lips pressing again against Beau’s, Beau’s own hands sliding around to hold Jester’s waist, Jester’s unsteady step in the sand forward that pressed their fronts together and the way her cool arms draped around Beau’s burning neck. The nip of a fang, the swipe of a tongue, pastry and strawberry and a giggle as Beau bent her back in a dip.

“Wow.” Beau gasped, parting for just a second to press her forehead to Jester’s.

“Yeah,” Jester breathed back.

“You wanted to show me-”

“Come back, I wasn’t done kissing you.”)

“I… I know you don’t need protecting, Jes. I didn’t mean it like that.” Beau grinds her back teeth together, trying to think back to that beach and remember how Jester looked at her then.

“Did you think I was going to stop you?” Jester huffs, “When have I ever been the one to say no to something?”

“Well… never.” Beau’s ears feel hot and she suddenly can’t bring herself to look up at Jester.

“That’s right, never. I’m always on your team, Beau. And you shutting me out is- it’s just-” Jester sputters in indignation for a moment and Beau hasn’t felt so small and so idiotic in a long, long time.

“It’s bullshit,” she mutters.

“Yeah, it is!” Jester bursts, “I thought… After Nicodranas, and… I thought we were kind of on the same page, you know, and then you go and get all cagy and weird again. It’s like when we first met you and you were still fighting… And now you’re doing it again! I don’t want you to be fighting again. We were all so scared all the time and. It just really sucked. And you can’t do that anymore.”

Beau can hear the tears in Jester’s voice but the coward in her won’t look up and see the pain in Jester’s eyes that is definitely her fault. She feels like she’s gone mute. There’s nothing she can say to dig herself out of this hole she made. Jester’s right but… it doesn’t change the fact that she’s doing the fight. It doesn’t change the fact that this feels like the only way to get Caleb out of this insane deal. The only thing worse than the gnawing anxiety of what if I lose, is the fact that she might have fucked things up with Jester before they’d even started. This is why you said you weren’t going to act on it. You fucking idiot.

“Beau, don’t you have anything to say?”

“I… What do you want me to say, Jester?” She’s addressing her shoes, scuffed and worn and old, “I’m sorry. Okay? I’m so fucking sorry, I wasn’t thinking clearly because I was scared for Caleb and I fell back on old habits and I didn’t take anything else into consideration. You’re just… You’re you and I always want to keep you safe. Especially from things about me that I don’t like.”

The icy draft in the room lessens somewhat and Beau continues, “I didn’t want you to get hurt by something from the outside, but I ended up being the one that hurt you and I’m really sorry. That just like...tracks for who I am as a shitty person I guess. And I’m not ‘fighting again’. It’s one and done. I don’t want to go back to… to all of that but this is our chance to keep these assholes away from Caleb for good. So… if you burned my clothes, I get it, I guess. But I need to get ready.”

Beau still doesn’t raise her head but scratches through her undercut, eyes fixed on Jester’s toes, wiggling in their socks.

“You’re not a shitty person, Beau.” Her voice is gentle and it catches Beau off guard, “You’re so good. You’re-”

“Oh, Jes, no, don’t- I didn’t say that as like. No. I’m-” Her tongue still feels too big for her mouth and there’s a ringing in her ears, “I’m really fucking sorry, Jester.”

There’s a cool hand on her forearm and Jester’s so close suddenly. She doesn’t say anything but they stand in a kind of stalemate, Jester’s thumb stroking the brown skin of Beau’s arm and Beau just at a loss. Then there’s a hand under her chin and Jester’s tilting her face up so they’re eye to eye as she says-

“I’m coming with you.”

“Jester, no-”

“Yes. If you’re doing this, I’m doing it with you.”

“Caduceus is coming, we have a healer.”

“Tell him to go stay with Caleb or something. I’m coming.”

“Jes, these underground fights are gross and there are shitty people there and-”

“And so are like half the places we’ve been. My dad basically runs the mafia. A mafia we’ve done jobs for and I almost died because of. Plus we’ve all already been there before. Next argument.” Jester’s eyes are dry now and Beau swallows back the tide of memories and feelings.

“I can’t- I…” Beau’s chest lances hot, because Jester shouldn’t be there but there is fire in her eyes and a hand still under Beau’s chin.

“I’m guessing Fjord is going as your coach. And either Yasha or Zuala is the muscle?”

“Z. Caleb’s calmer when Yasha’s around. I… made up this whole ‘split the party, keep Caleb distracted’ thing.”

“And you didn’t even ask me to be a part of team distraction?” Her voice pitches up again but it’s not angry like before. Beau feels herself wince anyway.

“Beau, you know that’s what I do best.” She says Beau’s name in that way that always makes her heart skip a little; drawn out and a little exasperated Bowuh! It’s very cute even when she’s genuinely annoyed.

“I know but you’d have wanted to come if you knew and now we’re back to square one.”

“I recognize it, yes.” Jester sighs. They come to another stalemate, eyes on a level and Beau tracks all the constellations of freckles across Jester’s cheeks and counts those lucky stars that Jester’s still even talking to her.

“You’re not the only one who wants to protect people, you know?” Jester whispers, tilting her head closer until they’re almost nose to nose.  And somehow, that thought had never occurred to Beau. Never in a million years and a thousand situations had it made sense that someone, Jester, would want to protect her. Even after years of friendship and adventures and that kiss it seems like such a foreign concept, people giving a shit about her in that way.

She opens her mouth to say something along those lines but there’s a knock on the front door. Instantly, Jester tenses and her cheeks go pale.

“Oh shit.”

“What, Jes?”

There’s a creak from the living room as Zuala and Yasha vacate their chair and one of them goes toward the front door.

“I was just,” Jester starts to babble, “I was really scared and so mad and I didn’t know what to do so I called-”

“Beauregard.”

Beau’s blood runs cold as the voice of her mentor calls from the front door.

“Jes.” She squeaks, letting her head fall forward to rest against one of Jester’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry!” Jester squeezes Beau’s arm, “I didn’t know where to turn.”

It’s your own fucking fault. Beau groans.

“Oh, I’m in trouble.”

Chapter Text

Jester’s rambling. It’s the nerves. It’s adorable.

“I can go talk to them and explain everything like ‘oh hey Dairon, it was just like. A huge misunderstanding and yeah, Beau’s totally fine and definitely not going to an illegal fight or anything.’”

Beau huffs out a laugh as Jester’s voice kicks up a couple octaves and she fights the urge to press her lips against Jester’s shoulder as she talks. It would be so easy and honestly, if anyone could charm Dairon, it’d be Jester but-

“No, no. I… I made this mess. I’ll go talk to them.” Beau starts to pull out of Jester’s grasp and toward the door when Jester’s hand on her arm pulls her back.

“I’m going with you. Tonight.” And Beau wants her close so bad and her selfishness wins out so quickly that she nods.

“Okay,” She whispers back, feeling a little defeated and a little bolstered. Jester’s lips twitch in the barest hint of a smile and she leans forward to kiss Beau just off the corner of her lips.

“I’ll go get your clothes.”

“You’re not gonna tell me where your hiding spot is?” Beau hedges, even though she knows they’ve already left Dairon waiting too long.

“Nope,” Jester pops the ‘p’ in Beau’s face, smiles and skips toward the oven.

Beau huffs again but then forces herself to turn toward the door. Zuala’s leaning casually against the wall next to where Yasha is holding the door open. Dairon stands on the threshold, bald head gleaming in the sun, in billowing grey-blue pants and matching shirt.

“Thanks Yash,” Beau mutters, sliding between her and the door. Yasha nods, touching Beau’s shoulder once as she and Zuala turn back toward the living room.

“Let’s talk outside.” Dairon’s tone leaves no room for discussion and Beau groans again, internally this time.

Beau closes the door behind her and follows Dairon down the steps. She tries to keep herself in control and not fidget but her fingers start to twist slowly into the hem of her shirt.

Dairon doesn’t say anything. They stand and watch Beau with a critical eye sharp enough to cut glass and Beau takes a deep breath and meets their gaze.

“I know what Jester told you but it’s not what she thinks.”

“Then please explain yourself, Beauregard.”

They already sound so disappointed and Beau tries not to let herself get bogged down in the fear of letting someone else down.

“My friend Caleb, you know, Caleb. He used to… he had this mentor, Trent Ikithon-”

There’s a slight curl to Dairon’s lip, “Yes, I know Ikithon.”

“Right. So. You know what a dick bag he is and- well there’s a lot of history there and some other people who trained with Ikithon and it’s Caleb’s business and I don’t want to- He ran away from them, is the point. And they found him. So basically, I challenged them. And if I win, Caleb stays with us. They stop coming after him. He’s been a wreck since they found him and…”

“And what happens if you lose?”

Beau’s jaw locks closed. She hasn’t even told Fjord what she’d offered. It’s maybe not the most idiotic thing she’s done but it’s definitely up there and if it’s the only way to keep Caleb safe-

Her silence seems to be enough of an answer for Dairon who sighs heavily and drops their head forward to knead their eyebrows, “Beauregard. Has all of our training meant nothing to you?”

There’s a flair of defensiveness in Beau’s stomach, “It’s meant a lot to me. You know that. It’s because you’ve trained me that I know I can beat them.”

“And what of my instructions not to get attached? Or have you conveniently wiped that particular lesson from your memory?” That was always the constant refrain with Dairon, even though when they’d pulled Beau from the underground fighting where they’d found her, she’d had already been forging bonds with the Nein.

Beau bristles, “It doesn’t work like that for me. You might find power in isolation but I-”

“Your connections make you vulnerable. They expand your weak spots beyond your body, beyond your control.”

“Then I’ll just have to fight harder to cover them.” This isn’t the first time they’ve had this talk but it makes Beau feel sweaty and short of breath every time. This family she found, the one she made is everything she has and keeping them safe is the only thing that’s important. And yeah, maybe that makes her vulnerable but it also makes her fight a hell of a lot harder than when she was just fighting for herself.

“It would be such an unfortunate waste to lose my best pupil to Ikithon because she could not see past this child-like need for validation.”

“It’s not child-like,” Beau shoots back, angry now that Dairon is minimizing the most important parts of her life, “And it’s not a need for validation. I owe them everything-” and after a sharp look, “Almost everything. I am doing this fight. I’m protecting my family and if that means you no longer want me to follow your teaching…” It hurts, it hurts, please don’t make me choose, please don’t make me leave, “I’ll leave.”

Dairon stares at Beau in silence. As ever, their eyes are unreadable and Beau feels like they’re looking deeper than she really wants them to. She’s shaking and heaving for breath but this is one thing she won’t back down from. The Mighty Nein is the only thing she’d ever choose over Dairon.

“I am proud.” It’s grudging and quiet and Beau wouldn’t believe it if she hadn’t seen Dairon’s lips move.

“What?” 

“I may not agree with your decisions, but I am proud of your convictions and that you choose to stand by them. These people are lucky to have you.”

Beau doesn’t know what to say. This isn’t at all what she was expecting and she can’t do more than open and close her mouth a couple of times before Dairon continues.

“Ikithon is a competent teacher and a ruthless mentor. I’ve heard of some of his methods-”

“Caleb’s got the scars to prove it.”

“So you know that he will stop at nothing to gain power, no matter who he crushes along the way. You should expect his fighter to be the same. Do not underestimate them.”

“I won’t.” Beau straightens her back, raises her chin, tries to give off the impression of surety and strength. And the way Dairon is looking at her almost makes her believe it.

“Good. I have one more thing for you then.”

Surprised, Beau follows them down to where their car is parked on the street. Dairon pops the trunk of the car and reaches into their own duffle to pull out a deep, grey-blue silk robe. Beau’s breath catches. She knows about this robe, has seen only a handful of people around the gym sporting them, only handed down directly from Dairon themself.

Dairon pulls it out slowly and without ceremony, holds it out to Beau, “As I said. I may not always agree with you. But I know an Expositor when I see one.”

Numbly, Beau reaches out and takes the robe. It’s plain except for the insignia of Ioun, a stylized eye, stitched into the cuff of both sleeves. The material runs like water over Beau’s fingers and her breath stutters again.

Dairon watches her, softer now than they were earlier, “Do me proud.”

Beau’s throat feels tight and she has to swallow back a million questions. Are you sure? Do you think I can do this? Why are you giving this to me? Are you sure?

Instead, Beau nods, once, curt, “I will.”

XXX

Beau isn’t entirely sure how she gets back inside. The robe is still clutched in her hand and she stares at it in awe. Whatever she had been expecting from Dairon, becoming an Expositor definitely wasn’t it.

There’s a clattering on the stairs to her left and Jester appears, out of breath, with Beau’s ring clothes in one hand and a hairbrush in the other.

“You’re back!” She chirps, “They weren’t upset?”

Beau shakes her head and then holds up the robe to show Jester, “I… They were for a second and then…”

Jester gasps and reaches out to brush her fingertips against the robe, “Oh my gosh, Beau!”

She flings herself into Beau’s arms, tilting her head so as not to smack Beau with her horns and squeezing around her neck. Beau’s free hand comes around Jester’s waist to return the hug as Yasha and Zuala peek their heads out of the living room.

“Not dead then,” Zuala tries to joke before she sees what Beau’s holding, “No fucking way.”

“They made you an Expositor?” Yasha asks quietly.

“I’m as surprised as you.” Beau mutters around Jester’s hair, handing the robe over as Jester pulls away to look into her face.

“No one is surprised, Beau.”

“Well-” Zuala starts.

And Jester aims a blind smack back at Zuala’s arm with the hairbrush that completely misses, “Okay no one but Zuala is surprised but she thought Dairon was going to kidnap you or something so that doesn’t count.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not proud,” grumbles Zuala, inspecting the sleeve and the Ioun symbol.

“Thanks,” Beau mutters, an arm still around Jester’s waist, “I wasn’t expecting it.”

“We all know you’ve worked very hard, Beau,” Yasha murmurs, holding the robe back out to her, “It’s a great accomplishment.”

Beau’s cheeks burn and she nods a little awkwardly. All three of them are watching her and she’s not entirely sure what to do so she does what she does best. She deflects.

“What time is it? Fjord’s supposed to bring Caddy here around 6 so we can go to the ring.”

“I told Caduceus he’s not going anymore,” Jester chirps, “But he was going to ride over to Essek’s with Yasha, if that’s okay with you, Yasha?”

“Of course.” Yasha raises an eyebrow at Beau for the apparent change of plan and Beau can only shrug.

“It’s almost five now so you can get ready and have a snack and listen to all your loud angry music,” Jester flits away, flinging Beau’s clothes over the side of the couch and the hairbrush over to the easy chair where Yasha and Zuala had been sitting. Yasha follows after her.

Zuala has the robe now, running her thumb over the Ioun symbol one more time before holding it out to Beau. Her honey colored eyes are sparkling and she smiles one of her rare, genuine smiles.

“You’re a badass.”

“Don’t go soft on me,” Beau teases back, taking the robe with shaky fingers and letting her head be looped up in Zuala’s sizeable bicep again as she pulls her close. A kiss smacks on the top of Beau’s head.

“Never.” She drags Beau into the living room, still in a gentle headlock. Beau laughs and puts up a fight for show but lets herself be yanked around and gently noogied until Zuala drops her right in front of where Yasha’s sitting on the chair again.

“Sit still and let my wife do your battle braids.”

Beau sweeps her leg out as Zuala turns toward the kitchen but the other woman just leaps over it and Beau sighs as she hears Zuala start peppering Jester with questions about all of the baked goods that are currently overrunning their kitchen. With a shake of her head, Beau turns to where Yasha is already waiting expectantly, hairbrush tucked up against her thigh.

“Ready?” She watches Beau with her mismatched eyes and smiles and the anxiety Beau hadn’t even realized was mounting, starts to recede a little bit. Yasha always had a weird calming effect that Beau forgets about until it comes around again.

“Yeah.” She lets Yasha pull her down to sit between her knees. With careful hands, Yasha unwinds the ribbon from the top knot of Beau’s hair and gently brushes through the knots until it’s silky and smooth across her back. It’s a ritual any time Yasha does her hair and it’s almost enough to make Beau want to wear it down. 

With practiced fingers, Yasha parts Beau’s hair into two pieces, tucking the right one forward over Beau’s shoulder and separating the left chunk into three more pieces that she begins to twist delicately into a tight French braid. It pulls at Beau’s scalp, but not in an unwelcome way, like when she was a child and her mother would wrestle a comb through her hair and it hurt which made her squirm more and her mother would do that annoyed sigh. It’s a pull that lets Beau know she’s there and taking care of her, never painful. It’s very Yasha. The tail of the braid hangs low, past the bright green tattoo across her upper back. Yasha uses a small black band to keep the first braid tied and then starts on the next one.

“I’m making some bacon but since you got that fancy new robe, I’ll put it in my pocket for you,” Jester chirps, skipping out of the kitchen and pressing an only-slightly-burnt cinnamon roll into Beau’s hand.

“I don’t know if you’re supposed to eat pastries before a fight, Jester,” Zuala points out gently, following behind with a couple water bottles and stowing them in Beau’s gym bag.

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Beau comments, taking a huge bite and biting back a moan. Burned or not, Jester makes damn good cinnamon rolls. The icing is just heavy enough that it doesn’t drip off but isn’t like full-on frosting.

“She fights weirdly better with sweets in her system,” Yasha finishes for Beau, whose mouth is very full, wrestling the second braid a little bit tighter.

“I keep forgetting this is the first one of these you’ve been around for,” Jester sighs, “It seems like you’ve always been a part of the Mighty Nein.”

The air of the room goes a little stagnant, as it always does when Zuala’s past, or Yasha’s for that matter, gets brought up. They can all feel it and Beau leans her shoulder against Yasha’s knee to ease some of the tension she can sense building in her friend.

Zuala smiles, a little sadly, “Thanks, Jester. I wish I’d been around sooner.”

No one speaks again for a moment and the memory of Yasha, tacit and quiet and sad, of all of them lost and broken and angry finding one another. Losing Molly. The ghosts of who they used to be, before, drifts in, as always, with a pang. Beau feels Yasha’s fingers stop braiding and rest against the skin of her tattoo and she knows Yasha is thinking about her best friend. The deep jade ink on Beau’s upper back and neck is one of the only tangible links to him that they have left. The air of the room feels sharp and Beau can almost hear Molly laughing at them, at their melancholy. So sue us. We lost you, asshole, that doesn’t go away.

She’s imagined what he’d say to her if he knew what she was doing. She’s imagined it a lot in the last couple of weeks. She’s pretty sure he’d be on her side. The whole plan is chaotic and stupid but for a good reason which was always his basic M.O. And he’d loved Caleb just as much as the rest of them. He would understand. You are always full of surprises, unpleasant one.

Beau clears her throat, “Better late than never, Z.”

Jester wraps her arms around Zuala’s middle. Yasha strokes a finger down Beau’s tattoo one more time before she picks up braiding again.

“Better late than never,” Zuala echoes, eyes locked on Yasha, something indiscernible in her gaze. Yasha is intent on Beau’s hair again. The focus feels mildly forced and Zuala sighs a little, hugging Jester back.

Chapter Text

One more hair tie and Yasha squeezes the back of Beau’s neck, “All done.”

Beau shoves the rest of the cinnamon roll into her mouth and licks the icing off her fingers, “Thanks, Yash.”

Yasha doesn’t look up as she nods, busying herself with the hairbrush and extra hair ties. When she gets like this, it’s best to leave her to Zuala, who looks like she’s itching to slide in next to her wife. Beau pats Yasha’s knee as she stands and makes room.

“Did you say something about bacon, Jes?”

With a grin, Jester motions to the pocket of her dress and Beau wastes no time reaching in to snag a piece and folds the whole thing into her mouth. Zuala shakes her head and lets go of Jester to join Yasha again. Jester holds out a second strip of bacon.

“Mmm, you’re the best.”

“I know,” Jester beams and Beau is suddenly acutely aware of the smear of bacon grease on her chin. She wipes it away hastily, trying not to blush and then makes herself turn away to grab her shorts and sports bra from where Jester had flung them on the couch.

“Be right back.

Beau changes quickly, pretends that her hands aren’t starting to shake as she pulls on the deep blue shorts and bra that represent the Cobalt Soul. She refuses to look herself in the eye as she turns toward the mirror. She knows she’ll find the fear she’s been biting back all day there. It has nowhere else to go anymore. There’s only so far she can shove it down before it pops like a bottle of soda.

The fear is something new. With fights, it used to be a release when she was mad or something fun for when she was bored and needed a reason to burn off energy that didn’t involve another woman in a bed (although a couple of times it had worked out that way after…). There hadn’t been anything to lose those days. Now… now there’s everything.

Shaking her head, she inspects the braids Yasha wove into her hair (flawless as always) and brushes a hand through her undercut before hitting the light switch with more force than necessary and wandering back toward the kitchen.

Jester’s in there again, puttering around and putting everything she baked into containers to save or bring to their friends or the tattoo shop where she works sometimes. As Beau watches, she sets aside the biggest box they have and calls to Yasha.

“Hey Yasha, you should take the tupperware with the blue lid to Essek’s tonight. It’s got everyone’s favorite cookies in there.” Yasha’s answering hum is quiet and Beau is certain that Zuala is occupying most of her attention.

“That’s really nice of you,” Beau’s voice cracks like an adolescent and her cheeks flood with heat. What is with her today? Jester doesn’t seem to notice though, thank Ioun.

“It’s not a big deal really. They’re not as good as they usually are.” She snaps the lid on tight and looks up as Beau approaches. And then back down. Beau’s mouth goes dry and she’s suddenly aware of exactly how much of her skin is showing and the feel of Jester’s eyes dragging upward is-

In a rush, she tugs the tank top over her head and tries not to see the momentary look of disappointment that flashes across Jester’s face. The thin material of the cropped shirt does little to control Beau’s… feelings.

“I’m sure they’re delicious.” Distraction, yes, baking, “The cinnamon roll was-”

She trails off as Jester reaches out, a little hesitant and lets her fingers trail down the braids. Beau freezes and casts her mind around wildly for anything else to say because it feels really nice and she does not have the mental capacity for all of these emotions right now.

“Yasha did a good job.” Jester’s voice is low and soft in a velvety way that Beau isn’t used to. It’s not her sultry-for-the-joke voice. She’s not even sure if it’s intentional. Which makes it way hotter.

“She always does,” Beau croaks.

“You look super badass,” Jester’s closer now and Beau’s breathing hitches. Her brain goes to static and she doesn’t have a response. She just kind of swallows, shrugs awkwardly.

“Beau?”

“Yeah?” Jester’s so close now and Beau’s stupid heart is hammering so hard it’s amazing Jester can’t hear it. Or maybe she can. She’s getting light headed and fuck, when was the last time she took a breath. She gasps and realizes that they’re basically breathing the same air now and Gods she’s so pretty and soft and good. Look at her. Look at all you’d be giving up if you lose the fight.

“I’m gonna kiss you again.” Beau thinks her heart actually stops. Jester continues.

“Because I’m pretty sure you won’t want me to do it at the ring… And I’m pretty sure I’m going to want to.”

Beau jumps as two cool hands find the strip of skin at her waist between the bottom of her shirt and the top of her shorts. About 12 more emotions pile up in Beau’s throat and she does her best to swallow all the bad ones back. Instead, she reaches up to tuck a lock of hair behind one of Jester’s horns. Jester smiles and turns to kiss the palm of Beau’s hand as she pulls back slowly. It’s too much.

“Jes” she rasps out but that’s as far as she gets because Jester closes the distance between them and if the kiss on the beach was fireworks this is… another beast entirely. There’s a harder edge to it; a little biting, maybe even a little angry still and a hint of desperation that sends Beau’s stomach through the floor. She catches Jester’s cheeks, runs a hand through her hair and when Jester sighs as Beau’s thumb skirts her horn… It’s enough to kill a woman, honestly. The kiss doesn’t soften any and eventually Beau loses herself to the sheer bliss that kissing Jester is.

And she absolutely does not whine as Jester presses up against her, walking forward until Beau’s back hits the wall. Nope.

There’s a smirk on Jester’s face, Beau can feel it but she can’t bring herself to care. Jester’s strong and Beau knows it and Beau knows that Jester knows that she loves it and it’s all roiling into this happy good times feeling that Beau still isn’t sure she deserves.

Jester’s thumbs swipe up under the hem of Beau’s shirt and Beau actually gasps as a shock of pleasure sparks down her spine and she can feel Jester’s tongue and-

Jester’s hands don’t go any further but she strokes her fingers again, and Beau does her best not to groan as Jester pulls away slightly.

“Beau?” she ducks her head, kisses just under Beau’s chin and then again, lower down on Beau’s neck.

It takes all of Beau’s mental energy to get out, “Yeah?”

“If you win the fight they leave Caleb alone, right?”

The static in her brain is too thick and why the fuck are we talking about Caleb right now? Because Jester is pressed up so close and their legs are slotted together in the best way and- Focus.

“Uh-huh.”

Jester brings her head up, looking up at Beau from under her lashes, pupils blown wide, and Beau tries not to think about gravity and the pull she feels toward Jester and-

“What happens if you lose?”

The question hits Beau like a bucket of water and she pulls back as far as she can, the back of her head knocking into the wall. Her chest is still heaving from the kiss and Jester is still painfully close but the buzzing in Beau’s head takes on a new quality that she’s familiar with but isn’t nearly as pleasant.

Panic.

(“We have a meeting, Ikithon.” Beau didn’t bother with introductions as she slammed her way into the conference room of The Camaruth Cottage, an inn just down the street from the library. Caleb had been safely tucked up in Essek’s ‘book nook’ (as they’d taken to calling it) since the day before and Beau had barely slept three hours before working herself to a jelly at the Cobalt Soul for hours and then making her way to the inn before her brain could tell her to stop.

The room’s nine occupants stared up at her with varying degrees of annoyance, and Beau brain finally caught up with her body and the fact that she’d essentially gate crashed a meeting of the three most powerful magic users in the Empire. But there was no going back and the fire in her belly swelled as a spark of recognition in Ikithon’s eyes sent a sneer momentarily across his face.

“The young lady is correct,” his voice was as oily as his hair and Beau clenched her back teeth to tamp down the actual growl that started in her throat, “I apologize, it must have slipped my mind and the appointment book. Ludinus, Oremid, if you will excuse us, I’ll be available later this morning to continue this session.”

She had the sense to bow her head and mutter a “Martinet. Headmaster,” as they and their four underlings stepped around her, laptops, phones and tablets tucked under their arms. The door shut sharply and they were alone.

“To what do we owe the pleasure, Ms. Lionett?” Beau didn’t bother asking how he knew her name. It didn’t matter.

“You need to leave Caleb alone.” And if that didn’t sound childish coming out…

A smile crept across his lined, yellowing face and he turned to the other two. Eodwulf, Beau saw, was fucking massive, a good seven inches taller than her and about as many wider, intricate maze tattoos spiraling up and down his bulging forearms, hiding, Beau knew, deep scars that matched the ones on Caleb’s arms. His jet black hair was cropped close to his head and his expression was hard to read. He did not share Ikithon’s leer.

Neither did Astrid. She didn’t look exactly as Caleb described but she was still unmistakable. Sharp features and dirty blonde hair, short in the back with longer locks in the front framing the sides of her face. Her wiry arms bore the same marking as Eodwulf. Her brown eyes were just as unreadable as his. As she brushed some hair behind her ear, Beau could see another scar that ran down the side of her face, eyebrow to chin and down onto her neck. A weird sense of pride flashed through Beau’s chest at the idea of Caleb using any means necessary to get away from these people.

“You know our Bren, then?” Eodwulf’s voice was rougher than Beau was expecting.

“Caleb,” Beau shot back with intention, “has no idea I’m here. I came of my own accord. I know all about what you did to him. To them,” Beau gestured at Astrid and Eodwulf, “and I know why he’s so fucked up about it.”

“What Master Ikithon did is nothing short of-” Astrid started, taking a few steps forward but Beau held up a hand in her direction.

“I don’t have time for you, Stockholm Syndrome.”

She huffed but fell silent as Ikithon too waved a second (less dismissive) hand in her direction. The other woman looked imperiously down her nose at Beau, even though Beau was taller. Beau fought the impulse to roll her eyes.

“I am simply trying to bring Bren back to people who understand him. Who can help him. Heal him.” Ikithon simpered, “He was not in his right mind when he left and I do not believe he has been so since.”

“And whose fault is that?” Beau growled.

“Weaker minds tend to break under-”

“Don’t give me that bullshit. You tortured him, fucked with his mind but his heart was too good for you to corrupt.” Fuck that sounds dumb.

“His heart?” Ikithon arched an eyebrow, “What can you know of his heart? Do you know what he did?”

“I know what you forced him into.”

“I assure you, everything he did, was of his own free will.”

“Yeah, after you indoctrinated him and altered his memories.”

“My teachings are always for the good of the Empire. That is all Bren ever wanted. To serve his King and Country.”

“His name is Caleb.” Beau snarled, “And you took a smart eager kid and turned him into a murderer. More than one kid, in fact.”

Astrid and Eodwulf didn’t react, stoic and still, shoulder to shoulder and Beau started to think about exactly how stupid this plan was.

“We are getting nowhere with this line of conversation. What is it that you want? I’m a very busy man.”

It sounded like her dad and a whole new wave of anger washed over Beau.

“What I want, is you three away from my friend.”

“Don’t you think this should be his choice?”

“Given his reaction to your protégé over there,” Beau swung a hand toward Eodwulf again, “I think his choice is pretty clear.”

“Assumptions are-”

“I’ll fight you for him.” It was out of her mouth before she even had a chance to think it through.

Ikithon actually laughed at that, “Fight me for him?”

“Or one of them if you’re too old to fight your own battles.”

“I assure you, young lady, I am perfectly capable.”

“Prove it then. There’s a ring, underground. Butcher shop off of 6 ^th street. Street fighting rules. If I win, you never come near Caleb again. You forget he ever existed and you stop tormenting him.”

Ikithon raised a patchy eyebrow, “And should we prevail?”

Beau cast her mind around in desperation. She hadn’t thought this far ahead. She had almost no sway in the Cobalt Soul yet, her connection to the Gentleman was next to useless and-

“Me. You can have me in place of him.” Fuck, WHAT? “I’m just as smart,” Not technically true but pretty damn close, “I’m tougher than him physically and you haven’t already broken me yet. You’re welcome to try.”

Ikithon’s face betrayed his true emotions for the first time their whole talk. Surprise. He hadn’t been expecting a full kamikaze then.

“What could I possibly get from you that I could not from him?”

“You know my last name which I’m sure means you know who I train under. With the state of the world right now, cults rising, the war with the Dynasty, I think you’ll gain more from having someone with my training under your thumb than another magic user. Plus I’m banking on you being a little bit of a sadist.”

“That’s bold of you.”

“That’s not the first time I’ve been told that.”

Ikithon considered her for a moment. Another. Beau tilted her chin up and held firm. This can work. I can do this.

 Another sneering smile crept across his face and he held out one yellow-nailed hand.

“Ms. Lionett. You have yourself an accord.”

Beau tried not to flinch as she took Ikithon’s paper-dry hand and they shook.)

Beau’s hands are definitely shaking now as she brushes Jester’s hair down from how she’d mussed it during their kiss. The tips of her ears are going numb and there’s a roaring building. No, focus up, come on.

There’s a knock at the door and a glance over at the stove tells Beau it’s a little before six. Fjord and Caduceus are early. She runs her fingers out of Jester’s hair and then over the tattoo across her shoulders before using them to push Jester back a little. There’s the sound of the front door opening and Caduceus’ low voice, greeting Yasha and Zuala.

“Beau?” Jester ducks her head, trying to get Beau to look at her but Beau can’t do it. She’ll break. It’ll be bad.

“It doesn’t matter.” Beau murmurs, “They won’t be getting it.”

She can’t help herself and leans in, presses a short kiss to Jester’s mouth before she can argue and then she’s gone, swallowing back tears and heading to the door.

Jester catches up a moment later, weaving her fingers into Beau’s and trying to pull her back, “Beau.”

Her voice is a different kind of soft that Beau never could deny and she slows a little, lets Jester pull her back around to face away from the door, almost back into the kitchen.

“You’re supposed to talk to me and- oh.” Jester reaches up to catch a tear that sneaks past Beau’s control and embarrassingly rolls down her cheek.

“Beau, what did you offer?”

“Nothing that will get any of you hurt. You’ll all be safe.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” Jester tries to glare but there are tears in her eyes too and Beau swallows hard. Stupid fucking anxiety. She can’t remember if she took her meds this morning. Or even the last couple of days. Beau gulps again, takes a deep breath and tries to smile at Jester. She’s pretty sure it doesn’t work.

“I’ll tell you after this is all over, okay?” Jester looks like she wants to argue and Beau lets honesty take her tongue.

“Jes, if I tell you, you’ll get more upset, I’ll get more upset and I don’t know if I’ll go through with it and this is… this is our chance to get them away from him for good. I have to try, I have to- And-” It starts to build in chest her again, the lying, the falling back into the world she left behind, the possibility of losing and losing everything, it’s filling her lungs like sea water and it’s closing over her head.

Beau shuts her eyes hard, two more tears dripping out of her eyes and Jester brushes them away hastily, shushing her gently. Breathe. Your feet are on the ground, Jester is in front of you, and you are not going to lose. She starts to steady a bit. Opens her eyes to find Jester watching her with quivering lips. She’s so close and it’s so good.

“You don’t have to come with me.” Beau whispers. This is what she’d been trying to avoid by not telling Jester, Godsdammit.

“You are not going without me,” Jester murmurs back and something double edged takes Beau’s chest. Relief and regret.

“I’ll tell you after,” Beau promises again. It’s a fight for another time. Another time with Jester that she will have.

“They’re not gonna win, Jes.”

Beau watches Jester swallow hard before she nods and brushes her own cheeks dry, “I believe you.”

They stand and stare at each other for longer than should be allowed but it gets Beau’s breathing back to something close to normal at least and Jester’s hands are still stroking against her cheeks, even though the tears have long since dried up.

A thought strikes Beau, “Wait, did you just kiss me like that to distract me enough to see if I’d answer?”

A purple tinge floods Jester’s cheeks, “That wasn’t my intention at first. I really wanted to kiss you again but then… well when I backed you up to the wall and you made that-”

“Look, I’m only human, and you’re… Jesus, Jes you-”

“You two done making eyes at each other?” Zuala yells from the front, “Because I’m pretty sure we’re on a schedule.”

Jester giggles, hides her face in Beau’s neck and if that doesn’t fuck up her heart beat again... Beau huffs and tries to think of a comeback to sling back at Zuala but as she gets it to her mouth, Jester kisses just under her jaw again and the retort dies a blissful death.

“Come on.” She mutters to Jester instead, taking her hand again and leading the way to the front door.

Yasha, Zuala, Caduceus and Fjord crowd the front hallway by the door, watching as they round the corner of the living room and Beau fights the urge to pull her hand away from Jester. As if she can sense it, Jester holds on a little tighter.

Caduceus has a small backpack slung over his shoulders and his chin rests on top of Fjord’s head, arms slung loosely around the front of his body. The half-orc in question looks mildly perturbed by it but leans back comfortably against his chest anyway. Zuala has Beau’s gym bag in one hand and the other arm is wrapped around Yasha’s.

“Everyone in this house is very touchy today,” Caduceus notes, looking around at the rest of them and smiling a little, “I like it.”

Beau does her best not to blush and turns to Caduceus, “Thanks for being okay with like. The switching and whatever.”

Caduceus smiles back at her easily, “We’re here to support you, Beau. It’s a very noble thing you’re doing.”

Her face burns and Jester squeezes her hand, “I… It’s probably just stupid. Let’s go before I change my mind.”

Fjord stands forward off of Caduceus’ chest and kisses his cheek (Beau used to tease him about having to go up on his tiptoes but honestly it’s pretty cute). Zuala passes Fjord Beau’s bag and kisses Yasha goodbye.

“Take care of them,” Yasha murmurs, brushing her wife’s hair back over her shoulder and smiling down at her, “And yourself. Don’t you start any fights.”

Zuala smirks up at her, “Please, I’ll leave the underground fighting rings to you and Captain Dumbass McBig-Heart over here.” But she winks at Beau as she follows Fjord out of the house toward his car.

“Take care of our stinky wizard,” Jester chirps, letting go of Beau’s hand and skipping out of the house. Beau quickly snags her phone, keys and headphones off the table next to the door when a hand lands on her shoulder. Yasha.

“I do not know what you offered them. And you do not have to tell me. But I know the price was very steep.”

“Yasha. Don’t-”

“We have been in our fair share of scraps together and you are one of the best fighters I have ever seen.” Beau finally meets her eyes and they’re blazing. She looks ready for battle and Beau tries to siphon some of the feeling, save it for later, when she needs it.

“Make them pay. And then come back home.”

Swallowing hard, Beau reaches up and squeezes Yasha’s hand, “I will.”

Yasha smiles at her, soft and close lipped like usual and then releases her, “See you soon.”

Chapter Text

The drive across town to the butcher-front for the fighting ring is quiet. Beau has her headphones in, blasting the loudest, angriest music she can find to drown out the drone of panic undercutting every thought she has. Fjord, Zuala and Jester leave her be, making conversation only a little awkwardly.

Finally, when she can’t take it anymore and the pistoning of her knee is shaking the whole car at every stop light, Beau yanks the earbuds out of her ears and says, “Stop the car.”

They’re less than a mile away by now and on instinct, Fjord’s foot slams on the break, “What, are you going to be sick? I can get some-”

“No dude, I’m fine. I’m just gonna run the rest of the way. Warm up or… whatever.”

Beau’s out of the car before Fjord or Jester can protest and she sets off at a pretty fast clip, running maybe half a block before she realizes someone is keeping pace with her.

“What the fuck?” Beau sputters, whirling around to find Zuala jogging just behind her, “Dude, what are you doing?”

“I’m supposed to be muscle right? Fjord’s supposed to be your coach, Jester’s the healer and I’m here to be muscle. I’m meant to watch your back.”

“Yeah, at the ring.”

“That’s where we’re going, isn’t it?” Zuala’s not dressed for this at all, dark ripped jeans, combat boots, a band tee that hangs off her shoulder. She doesn’t even have a hair tie to keep her long auburn hair out of her eyes. But Fjord’s already driven off.

“I… yeah, okay.”

Beau takes off again, faster this time, tries to leave Zuala behind, but again she keeps up, never more than half a storefront behind and Beau should be impressed but she’s just mad. This is the thing she’s supposed to be good at, quick and nimble and smart and here she is, barely faster than her friend and leading two more of them into uncertainty and danger. Because she couldn’t sit still long enough for them to come up with a better plan together.

The summer heat is waning as the sun begins to sink in the sky but sweat is dripping down Beau’s face or maybe she’s crying again. She can’t entirely tell. Her brain won’t shut up and she can see the butcher shop dead ahead, busier than one might expect on a Thursday night, though Beau recognizes several familiar faces from the old days, milling around. Fjord’s car is parked around back, Beau can just make out the corner of it and the trunk being slammed closed as he or Jester gets her bag out of the trunk.

She skids to a stop, the gravel driveway of the hardware store kicking up around her tennis shoes. Zuala skitters to a halt at her side, huffing and puffing just a little bit.

“Everything okay?” She asks, propping her hands on her hips and obviously trying not to seem as winded as she feels.

“I have to tell someone and I think you’re the only one who can handle it.” Beau turns her back to the butcher shop and drags Zuala a little ways into the empty hardware store parking lot.

“What is it? Beau, are you crying?” Zuala reaches out to take her arm but Beau bats it away and wipes hastily at her face.

“Maybe but it’s fine.”

“Dude, no-” Zuala tries again, eyebrows knitting together and she backs Beau further behind the building. Beau pulls away again, feeling almost manic in her desperation.

“No, Zuala, listen. Just. Just listen because someone has to know what’s going on and you…”

“Okay, I’m here, I’m here, what’s going on?”

Beau heaves in a breath and lunges onto Zuala’s forearm for support. Zuala grips her back, chipped purple nail polish, the same color of one of Yasha’s eyes, Beau notices and her heart swells.

“Gods, I’m so fucking happy you and Yasha found each other. She thought you were dead for so long and that it was her fault and… It’s just really good knowing how loved she is and that-” She realizes how insane she must sound, bouncing from topic to topic and still, apparently, leaking as another tear drips off her chin.

“You’re actually starting to scare me, Beau, what’s happening?”

“Sorry, sorry it’s just. Like. Okay.” Beau takes a deep breath. Another. It’s a lot harder than she anticipated, even just telling Zuala.

“So… So the deal with Ikithon. If I win, they leave Caleb alone forever. He gets to be free of whatever the fuck they’re trying to do. But… But if they win…”

The gravity of what she’s agreed to settles like a lead weight in her stomach all over again. What if that was the last time you saw Caduceus and Yasha? You didn’t even say bye to Veth or Caleb. She chokes on her tongue and Zuala squeezes her arm. No. No, it’s worth it. It’s definitely worth it.

“Beau, what did you do?” Zuala is serious in a way Beau has never seen with her. Her eyes are dark and she leans in close, “Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it.”

“Me,” Beau whispers, “I said if they won, they could take me in Caleb’s place.”

Zuala freezes, silent and still as she stares down at Beau.

“I know how stupid it sounds but I know things, Dairon has taught me things and… He took it as a fair trade so-” Zuala opens her mouth to speak but Beau shakes her head, “No. Okay. I know. I’m… losing my mind a little bit and I need you to be the one who knows because if I lose, I don’t know how this is going to go down but…You have to watch out for the rest of them and explain-”

“Are you trying to break Jester’s heart on purpose?” Zuala hisses, “Or Yasha’s? Caleb’s? Really, any of us?”

Beau closes her eyes, “Zuala.”

“And you’re leaving me to explain it to them? What the fuck, Beau?”

Beau’s shoulders quiver and swallowing hurts, “I’m… fuck, dude, I’m scared. But I was more scared of telling them and seeing their faces and-”

Zuala sighs and pulls Beau into her chest, “I get it. I really, really do. But Gods.”

“I just need someone to know.”

“It’s not going to come to that.”

“It might.”

“Shut up. We are not going to lose you to this.”

“But Caleb-”

“Or him,” she cuts Beau off, furious, “No one is going anywhere for a long time. Okay?”

Beau feels herself nod into Zuala’s shoulder and clings to her for a moment. She’s sturdy like Yasha but softer. For all she’s been through, Zuala’s retained something gentle that she shares much more openly than Yasha does.

“And then we’re going to have a big family meeting about no more self-sacrificing, like an idiot, okay? Not to mention, my wife will kill me if I leave with three and come back with two.”

Beau laughs wetly and leans on her friend, “That’s fair.”

Zuala gives her one more squeeze and then pushes Beau back by the shoulders, “I’m glad you told me. You can always tell me when you do stupid shit for noble reasons. I’ll probably yell at you about it but I’ve still got your back.”

“Thanks,” Beau ducks her head and brushes her cheeks hastily.

“You good?” She claps a huge hand on the back of Beau’s neck and turns her toward the butchery again.

Beau takes a deep breath, “Yeah.” And she actually is.

“Let’s get this shit over with then.” Zuala squeezes down on Beau in that comforting way she has and then gives her a little shove, “Lead the way.”

Beau laughs shakily, feeling lighter than she has all day and takes off toward the butcher shop at a dead sprint. Something about knowing that someone else knows, that if she royally fucks up and they… they take her, then someone would know why. Would explain to the others… She feels better. The familiar adrenaline and excitement that precedes a fight is starting to spark in her veins and then she sees Jester turn and smile as she skids up at top speed. Her heart flutters.

Yeah. I got this.

XXX

The basement of the butchery is just as Beau remembers. At the center, a raised platform with four steps leading up to it where a four sided cage of chain link fence sits. The floor is solid concrete and set at opposite corners are two gates, one for each fighter’s team. A faint magical glow shimmers around the edges of the cage.

On either side, higher up, there are two large decks for viewing the pit from top down. Stairs lead from the ground floor to those as well, though they’re more closely watched by two beefy half-orcs - sons of the woman who runs the butcher shop and fighting ring. Wooden banisters line the two open sides of the decks to ensure that no one falls over the edge, whether out of drunkenness or rage over a fight.

Beau shakes out her hands as they walk in. Fjord leads the way, chest puffed out and confident. Jester and Zuala flank her, Jester a little ahead and to the left, Zuala a little behind and to the right. Not that Ikithon is there yet.

Jaquel, the half-orc proprietor of both the butchery and the fighting pit catches sight of their group from across the room and her face splits into a huge smile. She excuses herself from her conversation with the barkeep and approaches with open arms.

“Beauregard.” she cries, jovially arms open wide. She pulls up short when Zuala takes three wide strides and places herself between the woman and the rest of them. Jaquel isn’t subtle with her once over of Zuala and really, who could blame her. She’s only a little shorter than Yasha but that doesn’t mean much when Yasha towers over everyone except Caduceus.

“Your new muscle, I presume.” Jaquel says appreciatively, “You’ve come a long way from a little shit, fighting old men, eh?”

Beau winces internally, but nods, “Sure.”

“Well it’s good to have you back, girl. The ring isn’t the same without-”

“I’m not back.” Beau cuts in, feeling both Fjord and Jester tense, “This is a one time thing. For a friend.”

It’s obvious Jaquel doesn’t believe her.

“Sure,” she winks, “Just one more, eh?”

“This is it.”

Jaquel laughs and waves toward the ring, “Well you’re kicking us off tonight. We have your old corner set up. Do you need anything? Drinks, food?” She’s laying it on thick. Beau’s mildly uncomfortable.

“We’re fine. Thanks.”

Jaquel seems to deflate a little bit but she nods and hitches the grin back onto her face, “Well, just holler when you change your mind. Good to see you again, girl.”

“Yeah, you too,” Beau mutters out of obligation, feeling the unease still radiating off of her three companions. Jaquel leaves with one more appreciative glance over Zuala.

“I forgot how much I don’t like her,” Jester grumbles, hitching Beau’s bag higher on her shoulder and starting off toward their corner of the ring.

“She’s something,” Fjord agrees, following behind, an eye still on her retreating back.

“Seems like she’s glad to have you back?” Zuala mutters.

“Yeah I… was kind of a draw for this place for a while. Human girl going up against pretty much anyone, big or small, old or young.” Beau ducks her head and tries not to let herself get overwhelmed by the memories just being in this space brings up in her.

“With no sense of self-preservation,” Jester bites out, only a little bitter, “She was like. High risk, high reward. Even if she lost, it was a pretty badass fight.”

“And she rarely lost.” Fjord started dragging stools closer to the corner. He sounds proud and Beau’s chest swells a little bit. She’d only been friends with the Nein for a little bit when Dairon pulled her out of the underground fighting world and she couldn’t remember how they’d even come to know that it was something she did. Either way, it always sparked a weird love for all of them when she remembers the days where they’d sneak in to see her fights. Jester always wanted to go a round after she was done (and the one time they’d actually done it, Beau, still full of adrenaline, had put Jester on the floor in less than 30 seconds. Not one of her prouder moments.) Fjord would change his voice to whip up a betting frenzy and Caleb would try to pretend he wasn’t amused. Nostalgia was a fickle thing here.

“Well, this is the last time they’ll see her,” Jester claims, setting Beau’s bag down next to one of the stools and rifling through it to find her hand wraps.

“Yep, one night only.”

Beau pulls up the hem of her shirt, discarding it into the open duffel, toes off her shoes and socks and then starts to stretch out her wrists, cracking all her knuckles and rolling her shoulders. The noise in the basement begins to pick up as people stream in. Drinks are flowing and Jaquel starts to establish places to bet on the fights. It’s all too familiar and Beau can feel herself reverting a little bit to who she used to be. With a shake of her head, she takes in a deep breath and calls up Dairon’s voice in her head, their remembered instructions leading her through a few Sun Salutations. Her body is stronger now, honed and weapon-like. She’s a better protector now than she ever could have been before.

After the bit of yoga, she drops to the ground, pressing her way through a handful of push-ups. Fjord and Zuala make conversation above her but it’s little more than white noise. Not wanting to overdo anything and exhaust her arms prematurely, Beau stands and turns toward Jester but she’s already watching. Her eyes are wide and she watches Beau’s every move closely. If Beau didn’t know better she’d say Jester was-

No, she’s definitely blushing Beau thinks in utter delight. The purple in Jester’s cheeks deepens when she catches Beau’s eye. The flutter in Beau’s stomach is back and she winks.

“Need something, Jes?” She murmurs, taking a step closer and trying not to lose her gay mind when Jester bites her lip and tries to look away.

“Maybe later.” Her voice does that thing again, the low, quiet burning that sends heat shooting straight through Beau’s stomach. It’s definitely on purpose this time.

“You sure? Because we can-” Beau tries not to groan in frustration as Zuala’s hand closes on her arm and whips her around. A second later, any excitement in Beau’s system is flushed away.

Ikithon, Astrid, Eodwulf and a Halfling fellow (Beau thinks she remembers him from the inn) are settling themselves in the opposite corner. All wear identical, unremarkable grey cloaks and burgundy masks that sit over the upper half of their faces, but Beau would know Ikithon’s creeping gaze anywhere and Eodwulf doesn’t exactly blend in. As if he can feel her watching, Caleb’s old mentor turns and raises a wizened hand in their direction, lips peeling back in a smile to reveal his yellowing teeth.

Beau stares back, jaw set. She jerks her head in acknowledgement and then turns her back, clenching and unclenching her fists a couple times before reaching out to Jester. For a second, Beau thinks Jester is going to take her hand and she’d so much rather she did but…no. Jester places one of the bright blue wraps into Beau’s hands, thumb loop out and Beau nods in thanks.

“I don’t think you’ve told me which one of them you’re actually fighting,” Fjord mutters, “I feel like as your coach, I should know-”

Beau tamps down a mean instinct to snort at ‘coach’ (which he technically is. She’d asked him to be here as coach. She was the one that used that word with him specifically. Though it doesn’t mean much. You’re just scared. Don’t be a dick just because you’re scared) and continues wrapping her hands.

“I, uh… I’m not really sure. I kind of challenged Ikithon himself but I didn’t think about the fact that he might send one of them in to fight for him.”

“Beau,” Fjord groans, “They’re all going to fight drastically differently from one another. You didn’t think it was best to-”

“I think we’ve established I didn’t think, period, when I did this,” Beau snaps, securing one of the wraps and reaching for the other one. She catches Jester’s reproachful eye and mutters a quick, “Sorry.”

Fjord doesn’t even acknowledge the snippy remark, nor the apology and Beau loves him for it. Instead, he casts a look over his shoulder at the group and Beau follows his eyeline. They’re all huddled together still in their robes, heads bowed in close. No indication whatsoever.

“That’s probably part of the plan then,” Fjord sighs, rubbing at his forehead, “Which you could take as a compliment. They want you on your back foot.”

“I feel like a prom queen.” Beau deadpans, tying off the other wrap. They’re a little tighter than she meant them to be but they’ll loosen during the fight. The pounding of her pulse in her fingers is helping keep her mind in the present.

“Well they’ve all got magic, so stay light on your toes for those big area spells. You’re fast as fuck so use that to your advantage.” Fjord still hasn’t looked away from them.

“If it’s Astrid, stay in close if you can. She’s smaller than you and you might be able to grapple her or take her hands out of commission. That’ll limit her spellcasting. If it’s Eodwulf, do the opposite. He’s fucking huge and he’ll crush you if he gets the chance.”

“And if it’s Ikithon?” Beau mutters.

Fjord doesn’t answer for a long minute. His lips are pressed into a thin line, pale green with pressure. Not a great sign.

“I honestly don’t know, Beau. I’d say the same as Astrid because he’s a frail old fuck but… I just don’t know. Something tells me that would be the wrong move.” And Fjord’s instincts were usually right.

“Great,” Beau blows out a sigh, “Thanks for the pep talk.”

Fjord looks like he wants to say more but he just shakes his head instead.

Something cool touches Beau’s fingers and she jumps to find Jester taking one of her hands and pushing the wrappings around her fingers further up toward her knuckles. Beau opens her mouth to say something, anything but her head is filled with that buzzing again and something in Jester’s posture makes her pretty sure that whatever she came up with wouldn’t be good enough.

So she lets Jester tend to one hand, and then the other, and as she goes to pull away, Beau catches her hand and squeezes her fingers until Jester looks up. Her eyes are cloudy with emotions that Beau can’t entirely decipher. It hurts. Having her here. But she’s pretty sure being here without her would hurt more.

“Thanks.”

Jester’s lips twitch up in a smile that doesn’t make it to her eyes, “Do you want your gloves now?”

“Yeah, that would be great.”

“I got ‘em.” Zuala jumps off one of the stools, rooting around in the duffle until she pulls out the wooden case that Essek had made for Beau. Jester’s still holding Beau’s hand. She can’t bring herself to let go.

Jester hangs on too, letting their linked fingers swing gently between their bodies until Zuala cracks open the box and gestures for Beau’s right hand. With a sigh, Beau squeezes Jester’s fingers then lets go to hold out her hand. The shimmering black sleeve of the Maelstrom Gauntlet slides easily over Beau’s pre-wrapped hands but hangs loose around her arms, devoid of their usual magical essence

“Why aren’t they doing the thing?” Zuala asks, holding out the other gauntlet and chuckling as Beau’s thumb gets caught and she has to wrestle her way into the glove a little violently.

“No magic outside of the ring. There’s a field as soon as you come into the basement. That’s why healers can only do non-magic first aid between rounds,” Beau mutters, “Keeps things fair. Not everyone knows the top cleric of their religion.” She winks over at Jester who tries to smile back but it’s tight. It hurts. Beau’s jaw hurts from clenching her teeth.

The next thirty minutes pass in a haze of pacing and wall push ups. Fjord keeps an eye on their adversaries but still no indication about who will be fighting is apparent. Beau can feel both Jester and Zuala watching her but she’s shoved her headphones back in and turned the music up loud enough to hurt. It still doesn’t drown out noises of drinking and betting.

Beau lets her mind drift to Caleb. She’s never had a brother before (Well, that’s not strictly true. She does technically have one, TJ (because she’ll be damned if her dad gets to have any more claim over anything as good as that kid), but she’s only met him once and he’s like. Not even three years old.) but Caleb feels like what she imagines a brother would be. Someone she could count on to back her up and give her shit in the same breath. It’s a relationship she’s needed for her whole life.

Every long study session with him in the library, every polymorphed ape, even his silent support when they’d gone to visit her family to help Veth plays over in her mind. This is why we’re here. For Caleb.

Beau starts as a hand closes over her shoulder. It’s Zuala again, her eyes shuttered as she squeezes. Beau pulls her earbuds out and watches Zuala take a deep breath.

“It’s time.”

“Okay.” The anxiety has disappeared. Only rage and adrenaline are left. It’s time to end this for good. Caleb deserves that peace. One way or another. Beau follows Zuala back to their corner and drops her phone into the duffle at Jester’s feet. She glances up and Jester gives her a wobbly smile and nods once. Beau’s mouth goes dry and she almost wants to lean in for a kiss but… No. There will be time for that later.

Chapter Text

Fjord steps up behind her as they wait at the corner of the ring. Ikithon’s side still hasn’t risen from the stools and Beau tries not to let it ruffle her. The din of the gathered throng is an unintelligible roar and Fjord’s hands come up to rest on her shoulders as Jaquel swings her way through the gate of the fenced off ring. She raises her arms jovially and gradually, the crowds quiet down. She laughs and glances between the corners, winking heartily at Beau before speaking.

“Well, well, well! Looks like a grudge match tonight folks,” Jaquel shouts, hands cupped around her mouth, “Out-of-towners have some kind of a beef with our old home favorite. And she’s come back to us to show them a thing or two about Zadash, eh?” A cheer erupts from the crowd. It seems that people have noticed Beau’s return and there’s a buzz of excitement building even higher than before.

“In the eastern corner, comes our out-of town rival! He’s taller than a tank and broader than a barn. Wulf!” Jaquel waves her arm toward the far corner and the gate swings open. Eodwulf’s mask is gone. He shucks his cape with a grace belied by his frame and steps, barefoot into the cage. His hands are bare and he wears a thin, grey cotton top and pants. His tattooed arms are just as massive as Beau remembers and her stomach sinks.

She realizes that, subconsciously, she’s been planning for Ikithon or maybe Astrid. She knows how to weave around magic users and butt her way up against fighters but Eodwulf is somewhere in between and none of her usual rules feel like they apply, even after Fjord’s suggestions earlier. Fjord’s fingers clench in the meat of her shoulders, and she hears him swear under his breath.

“Distance. Get in and get out. Don’t let him get ahold of you.”

Beau nods numbly as Jaquel wheels around to sweep an arm toward her. Beau’s vision tunnels as Jaquel begins again.

“Now, our girl needs no introduction, eh. She’s been away for a few years but something about these new-comers was enough to bring her back home. The grittiest, gutsiest Beauregard!”

The noise after her name is deafening - a distant sound of whistles, shouts and claps. An old part of Beau preens at the attention. These people like her, they respect her, they admire her. But it feels wrong now, dirty. Built on their perception of a broken girl who had nowhere else to turn.

Fjord’s fingers dig into her shoulders one more time, bringing her back down to Earth, “You can do this. We’re all here for you.”

With that, he nudges her forward and Beau propels herself into the ring. There’s a crackle of energy at her sides as she steps across the magical barrier. It radiates across the surface of her gloves and the Maelstrom gauntlets magically tighten and form fit around her arms. She can feel the electricity buzz into her system. They’re not activated fully yet but something about having them on and the faint smell of ozone that they automatically put off sets her on a new level.

The noise for Beau continues and Jaquel has to shout three times to be heard above the noise. Eodwulf is pacing his corner like a caged animal, head bent low, lips moving silently. Beau shakes her head and looks down at her hands. They’ve stopped shaking now and she opens and closes them, putting her full energy into knowing her body. Her feet on the cold ground, the flex of every tendon in her arms.

Jaquel keeps going, hyping up the crow, before finally introducing their referee, a middle aged Dwarven man, Drummond. There’s a mixture of boos and applause as he walks in from Beau’s side, joining Jaquel from the center. She smiles, claps him on the shoulder and calls out.

“Well, enough from me. Let’s give old Drum here the floor, eh? Don’t forget to place your bets with Enric at the Western Bar and get ready for a fight you didn’t know you’ve been waiting for!”

Jaquel throws one last wink toward Beau as she exits and Drummond waves to call both her and Eodwulf to the middle. He stretches out a hand to Beau and she places first one, then the other wrapped fist into it. He prods around her knuckles and checks down the wrists for shivs or packs. He glances at her feet but they’re bare and unwrapped so he doesn’t question anything. Finally, he plucks at the maelstrom gauntlets.

“These your one item?” Every melee fighter is allowed one magically imbued item during a fight with a magic user.

“Yeah.”

“Nothing to do with planeshifting or-”

“Nah, man, I know the rules.”

Drummond doesn’t look too pleased at her attitude and his eyes spark with arcane light as he glances over them. Beau recognizes the spell from the number of times they’ve had Caleb use it. Seemingly satisfied, the ref turns toward Eodwulf and gives him the rundown. No spells with ‘death’ or ‘kill’ in the title, no extra-planar beings, no shifting between planes, spells requiring concentration must be dropped between rounds, yada, yada, yada. Beau’s heard it all before and instead watches the other man’s face.

He’s painfully blank, eyes vacant, expression smooth as Drummond goes over the rules. He nods where he’s supposed to, murmurs a quiet assent and skulks off back to his corner as quickly as the referee will let him. If Beau didn’t know better, she’d think he was upset to be in the ring, but no, she thinks, he’s probably just bored. Thinks he’s too good for this.

“Three rounds of a minute each with a minute long break for water and healing between. If no one’s gone unconscious by the end of the third round, you just keep going until someone goes down. Understood?”

Beau grunts her assent and Eodwulf nods. His eyes are like granite and he doesn’t even turn to check in over his shoulder as he backs into his corner again, though Ikithon and Astrid are watching him intently from under their masks. Beau doesn’t take her eyes off of him either but turns her head enough to track Fjord, Zuala and Jester in her periphery. Jester’s fingers are hanging off the chain link and Drummond shoos her away. Beau can just barely make out Jester sticking her tongue out at the dwarf’s back, even as she puts her hands down.

“Save Maelstrom for if something goes wrong.” Fjord murmurs under his breath when her back hits the corner.

“That’s what I was thinking too.” Beau answers. Eodwulf’s eyes are still glued to the floor.

“He won’t look at me.”

“Maybe he’s scared.” Jester suggests quietly but Beau can’t help but snort.

“Not likely.”

“You’re very intimidating when you want to be, Beau,” Jester mumbles, and Beau can imagine the pout on her face. She’s saved from forcing a tongue-tied reply past her lips, by Zuala.

“Or maybe he’s just a dick.”

Beau’s lips twitch in an approximation of a smile.

Drummond approaches the center of the ring, his hand raised. He glances first at Eodwulf, who nods again. His eyes find Beau.

“Tear him apart, Beau,” from Zuala is the last thing Beau hears before Drummond’s hand drops and she feels her body take over.

Eodwulf moves much quicker than Beau expected. A flaming bolt of magic shoots out of his fingers before she can get more than a few steps forward and Beau dives out of the way, feeling the heat of it skim past her heels. Coiling her muscles, she springs from her position on the floor, ducking forward to crack her fists once, twice into Eodwulf’s solid form, first in the jaw, then the solar plexus. With a jolt through her body, she summons her energy and focuses on surging it into his, taking over to stun him for just a moment. There’s a pulse in response from him but she pushes harder and feels the moment she over takes him. The tension of his chest under her hand gives and he staggers where he stands.

Feet and hands fly as Beau lashes out, delivering two body shots in quick succession before clipping him on the chin with her foot and spinning a backfist across his face. She immediately darts away as he manages to shake off the effect she caught him in.

His eyes are blazing when he looks up, still not meeting her eyes. An incantation leaves his lips, too quiet for Beau to hear. Drops of spittle, tinged red with blood fly out as he flicks her fingers out toward her and six arcane missiles zip in her direction. Beau relaxes, knowing there’s no way to avoid them and that tensing up will only make them hurt more.

They impact like little explosions, four hit her in the chest, knocking the wind out of her. One drives into her temple and another one catches her cheek hard enough to snap her head to the side. Something warm trickles down her face and Beau doesn’t bother to wipe it away. As the magic dissipates around her, Beau once again dives forward, strafing around in an attempt to get to the side of him before unleashing a front kick to the side of his knee which he just barely dodges. Grunting with exertion, she cracks an elbow into his ribs, pushing to stun the breath out of him again but he pushes back harder this time and it doesn’t take.

With a huff, Beau back pedals away from Eodwulf, dipping under the fist he swings wildly in her direction. His eye is swelling quickly and a cut on his lip leaks blood. He’s ginger on his left side and for a moment, Beau’s hopeful that she cracked a rib. 

Spitting another spell and throwing his hand out in her direction, Beau’s still retreating when the sickly black ball of energy hits her in the gut. A thin, sparkling arcane line connects him to her. There’s a jolt and all the air in Beau’s lungs feels like it’s being sucked out through the tether. Ice creeps through her veins, sharp and cold and the tether between them glows. Whatever energy was siphoned from Beau moves up the tether and sinks into Eodwulf’s form.

He glows darkly for a moment and in horror, Beau watches as the cut on his lip stitches back together and the swelling around his eye goes down. It’s almost enough to make her start the gloves up but no. Not yet. Her legs feel a little wobbly just from watching the transfer but there’s still plenty of fight in her.

Beau darts through the tether, though it doesn’t dissipate and pushes off the fence with her feet to get some extra height, bringing her elbow down on the bridge of his nose. There’s a satisfying crunch as it breaks. Beau sends yet another wave of energy into him in an attempt to stun. There’s barely any resistance this time. Her ki sweeps through him and he goes limp again.

With relief, she feels the tether between the two of them snap and she sends another punch into his nose before whipping an open palm to his throat and then solar plexus. Finally, she spins a sidekick into his gut hard enough to send him to the floor. She stumbles back to her side a little less gracefully than she would like but with the significant bonus that when Eodwulf shakes the stun off, he has to clamber to his feet and spit the next spell through a bruised throat and a waterfall of blood.

The elation is short-lived, however, as Eodwulf reaches into his pocket and then drags his other hand through the palm. Beau catches a whiff of something familiar but it’s the hand motion that sets her mental alarms off.

“Fuck,” Is all Beau has time to mutter before a wall of fire, erupts at the center of the ring. She throws herself backward and part way up the chain link but the angry flames still lick up the side of her body, singeing her shorts and already short undercut. The metal under her fingers heats up and Beau has to drop back to the small, five-foot space within the ring that isn’t currently on fire.

It’s hot but no longer scorching her like the original burst of flame and Beau knows better than to try to get through it. Eodwulf stands on the other side, chest heaving, blood dripping down his face and-

And he’s looking at her. Finally, for the first time, their eyes meet and oh. The look in his eyes is enough to push her another step back into the fence again. His eyes… they’re sad. Where Beau had expected anger or hatred or even indifference, there’s a profound heartbreak that she’s not even sure Eodwulf is aware of. It’s a look she’s seen in Caleb more times than she’d care to count. His eyes are so damn sad it actually hurts. The pieces start to fall together in that moment.

Chapter Text

Beau’s not sure how long they stand in stasis, eyes locked, the fire roaring between them, until there’s the violent clang of a bell and it’s like someone turned the volume up in the basement. People are screaming and cheering and suddenly a hand closes over Beau’s burned shoulder. On instinct, she bats it out of the way and turns, ready to punch-

Zuala. She dips out of the way of the punch that doesn’t come and then herds Beau out of the ring. It takes more focus than she’s expecting to sit down on the stool and dial her hearing back into the sounds of her friends’ voices. Zuala stands sturdy at Beau’s back and Fjord presses a bottle into her hands. They’re shaking with left over adrenaline as Beau brings it to her lips for a long deep sip that she almost spits out.

“Is this Gatorade?” She’d been expecting water.

“It’s lemon-lime on purpose to piss you off.” Zuala shrugs.

“It’s working,” Beau forces a second mouthful of it before shoving it back in Zuala’s hand, “Shit’s disgusting.”

“I told you not to do it.” Jester bustles up, holding a piece of gauze covered in aloe. She doesn’t look up at Beau’s face, just smears the green goo over the significant burn on her left shoulder. It hurts more than Beau was expecting but she doesn’t pull away. Jester’s got the lower part of her arm, less badly burned, stabilized in one hand as she uses the other to spread the aloe. Her fingers are cool and gentle as she works but Jester still won’t look at her. Fuck.

Fjord thrusts Beau’s water bottle at her free hand and Beau tips it up into her mouth, washing away the artificial citrus taste and easing the scratch in her throat brought on by the wall of fire.

“The stuns are working really well,” Fjord pats the outside of her knee and then winces. He holds out a wet rag to her and the motions to the side of his own face. Flinching, Beau drags the damp cloth over her cheek, through the sizable cut opened by one of the magic missiles next to her eye. A few swipes and the blood flow slows.

“He’s just so godsdamn big,” Beau huffs, tossing the rag to the ground next to her bag, “And his spells pack a punch.” She raises an arm and shows Fjord the deep blue bruises already mottling on her side from the missiles.

“I know, but you’re holding your own. The stuns are the way, getting in and out quick. Playing smart enough that he doesn’t have a chance to get a hold of you.”

Something cool presses over the bruises Beau just showed to Fjord and she jumps in surprise, looking down. Jester’s palm rests over her skin, a much prettier blue than the one she’s covering and Beau’s brain short circuits at Jester and skin. Beau’s eyes follow up along the curve of her arm and she has to crane her neck back to look at Jester behind her.

“We forgot ice packs.” She murmurs, fingers flexing a little and Beau lets herself lean back against Jester’s chest. Just for a second.

“I can stop if you-”

“No, no. It. It’s nice, it-” Beau’s suddenly painfully aware of Fjord and Zuala very close by, “It helps. Thanks.”

Jester’s thumb swipes against her skin again and Beau loses most higher brain functions for a second, “You’re doing really good. Just… Keep being smart, okay?”

Beau’s mouth is dry again and she slugs back another mouthful of water before choking out, “Yeah.”

There’s a second clang of the bell and the din of the crowd picks up again. Drummond is motioning to both Beau and Eodwulf from the center of the ring.

“You can do this.” Fjord swats Beau’s knee again, “Let’s wrap it up, this round.”

Beau nods and goes to get up but is stopped. Jester’s arm is still around her middle. She’s glaring down at the apex of Beau’s shoulder. Beau brings her hand up to cover Jester’s which seems to shake her out of the trance. She blinks hard and then meets Beau’s eyes, hitching a mostly convincing smile onto her face.

Beau squeezes her fingers, smiles back and pulls away. Zuala just nods as Beau passes, a sparkle of teasing in her eyes and Beau tries not to roll her eyes. The gate shuts behind Beau and the fog of war closes in around her.

Eodwulf’s nose is still dripping blood, though the flow is stemmed slightly. He’s still favoring his left side, something Beau knows she’s going to exploit very quickly and he’s back to not looking at her. Something tells her he knows what she saw in him.

Drummond stands between them again, a hand raised and, once he gets a nod from both of them, his hand drops, a bell clangs and Beau is moving. She uses Eodwulf’s still-bent knee and rockets hers up into the underside of his chin. The stun takes hold quicker than before and she pummels her way down his left side with sharp knuckles, trying to crack the already bruised ribs before throwing herself back away from him and falling into a defensive stance.

Eodwulf draws an obviously pained breath and sends six of the missiles out toward her again and she takes them with a grunt - there’s no use trying to act like they won’t hit. As soon as the last one sinks in, she ignores the burn in her muscles and surges forward again, only to hit a magical barrier with both attacks. Godsdamn shields, she thinks, only just managing to force a kick through. It barely connects with his barrel chest and Beau retreats again.

A flaming sphere grows in his palms before he releases it at her. It detonates just to her left but she evades it easily and he actually growls. Another shield blocks her next two attacks and she burns through some of her energy to take two more, getting in close and whaling on his cracked rib before she stumbles back. He’s getting tired, Beau can see the sweat mingling with the blood on his face.

The next muttered phrase and hand motions are unfamiliar to her but translucent sphere for force releases from his hands and speeds toward her. On instinct, she dives and rolls out of the way and it dissipates harmlessly against the chainlink. The burns on her shoulder pull painfully as she rights herself, using the momentum from the roll to rocket back in toward Eodwulf. He looks surprised as she dips under his arm, clips his cheek with an elbow and then lands a roundhouse into his solar plexus. She shoves the ki energy forward, with more force than before, frustration over the shield spells zipping through her. He goes limp and Beau takes another punch into his gut. But as she hauls back again, a hand catches around her arm.

Fuck. Eodwulf’s hand is massive and hot around her arm and he was faking. He played me. Is about all she has time to think before he whips her around in front of him. One hand pulls back on her arm and the other comes up and shoves her body forward. There’s a horrific cracking pop! as her shoulder dislocates.

Beau sinks her teeth into her lip to swallow the scream down. The pain is blinding and she tries to breathe through it but just as her ribs are expanding, arms like tree branches close around her middle, pinning her arms to her sides. His chest heaves against her back as he bears down, pushing the breath from her lungs and squeezing hard enough that her ribs ache.

Blind fear takes over as he presses down. Her arms are pinned on opposite sides and there’s no chance to wiggle them to each other and ignite the maelstrom gloves, especially when one is dangling, basically useless, from the socket.

Beau squirms anyway, swinging her legs and catching Eodwulf in the knee. He grunts in pain, stumbles a bit but holds firm. Squeezes harder. Beau’s dislocated shoulder is pulled further apart and the next scream almost makes it out. She throws her head back, trying to hit his already broken nose but he’s too tall and has himself positioned off to the side so Beau just hits his chest.

Sickly blue-grey magic springs from his fingertips and snakes around her body and every point where it touches Beau feels electrified. Fuck.

Lightning lances through her, hot and cold at once. It steals what little breath she has and arcs through her bones. Eodwulf squeezes again and Beau feels one of her ribs crack. Dark spots are dancing in her vision so she uses the only weapon she has left.

“Eodwulf, you know this isn’t the way to get him back.”

“Shut up,” He growls, sending another current of pain into Beau’s body. She seizes, writhes, tries to master her muscles to squirm free but he’s fucking strong.

“Even if you win, I’m still the one coming back with you all.”

“I said shut up. He will come when he knows we have you.”

“No, he won’t. He’s not that stupid. They won’t let him be that stupid.” Beau jerks and pulls but Eodwulf doesn’t budge.

“Why would you be doing this for him then? If you really think you mean so little to him?” That’s definitely not something Beau wants to get into now so she switches tactics.

“He’s better with us. He’s safer. You know that. You have to know that somewhere in that brainwashed head. I’ll keep him safe.”

“I’m the one who keeps him safe. We are.” Another arc of lightning rolls through her and she groans out loud. Blinks hard to clear her vision. The little spots are starting to coalesce and her tongue feels heavy and slow. No, no, no. Stay awake.

“You can’t anymore though. You had your chance and look where he ended up. An institution.”

More electricity pours through her body and Beau’s not sure if she’s getting used to it or her body’s shutting down because she only barely twitches and blinks blearily.

“He has someone who loves him. He has a family.”

Talking hurts, breathing hurts, being hurts but she is not going down. Not now. Not like this.

“He has all that with us. He used to. He can have it again.” But he doesn’t sound certain.

“He also has pain and suffering and memories and nightmares that he still wakes up from screaming. You all do, don’t you? I’ve seen the look in your eyes. Astrid hid it but you still know, don’t you?”

There’s a hitch in Eodwulf’s breathing and everything is so godsdamn clear now, even as Beau’s vision blurs further.

“We want the same thing, dude.” Beau wriggles, half-heartedly, just enough for the pain to keep her eyes open, “It’s just… you don’t like the truth of it.”

The last jolt of energy is mostly for show, it doesn’t even hurt that bad. Eodwulf’s chest is heaving, arms still a vice around her but frozen otherwise.

Beau finally gives one last great heave, pulls and twists and somehow miraculously slides from Eodwulf’s grasp and lands splayed on the concrete like a baby deer. The blue energy still tethers them as she limps back to her side, and Beau has just raised the fist of her good arm to protect her face … when the bell clangs and she almost collapses in relief.

Chapter Text

Zuala is through the gate and half carrying Beau to Jester before the bell’s stopped ringing. There’s a familiar buzzing in Beau’s ears that blocks out most sound. She watches them all flutter around her like moths to a flame, like she’s seeing it from underwater. Fjord doesn’t even bother handing her the water bottle, just tips it up into her mouth. He’s saying something but the buzzing is fluctuating like an old radio so she only catches every few words. She thinks he’s asking if she’s okay. She tries to nod. Zuala’s holding onto Beau’s dislocated arm, keeping it aloft and Jester. Oh. Jester’s coming in to hug her. Something like Caduceus’ voice murmurs in her head, That’s nice.

Beau automatically puts her other arm around Jester’s back as she swoops under both of Beau’s arms, petting her hair and opening her mouth to speak but Jester smiles (Beau gasps and immediately tries to play it off as a hiss of pain. It doesn’t work) and looks up at her with wet eyes.

“What’re you doing?”

“Hug?” She gets out, the tips of her ears burning because she sounds like a godsdamn moron but her pulse is pounding through her entire body and the black spots are still waltzing through her field of view. Her brain feels like pain soup.

Jester giggles (Beau’s heart skips, like, eight beats) and she shakes her head, “No, you dummy, I’m wrapping your ribs.”

“Oh.” She tries to check herself but between Jester being so close and her own swimming vision it doesn’t look like much, “’S it bad?”

“Nothing I won’t be able to fix when we get the fuck out of here.” Jester growls and Beau thinks about just letting herself melt into a puddle of adoration.

“Oh my gods, Jes, you’re my best friend.” There’s a bandage, Beau can feel it now, winding around her torso and Jester’s so close in (Gods she smells so nice and I’m like… a hot pile of garbage.) that Beau goes to hug her again but Fjord catches her other arm.

“Well I hope I’m more than that,” She whispers back, making another pass around Beau’s torso, oblivious to the fact that she just rocked Beau’s very foundation.

“Holy shit really? You want that?” she breathes, watching the shitty fluorescent light catch the charms on Jester’s horns and the way locks of her hair keep falling across her face. If Fjord and Zuala didn’t have her arms…

“Beau,” There it is again, that huffy, drawn out pronunciation that she loves, “We literally made out before we came here.”

“I know but like. I don’t want you to hate me.” It seems like a plausible situation for a moment.

Jester stops wrapping her ribs, takes her cheeks in her hands and waits for Beau’s (admittedly unsteady) gaze to meet hers, her face extremely serious, “You’re delirious. I could never hate you. Why would I kiss you if I hated you?”

Beau tries to shrug but it hurts and she whimpers a little but manages, “Weirder shit has happened.”

Jester’s fingers are stroking her face now and her cool skin feels nice against whatever swollen mess her face probably is. Beau leans into it, feeling slow and stupid from the pain.

 “I don’t hate you. Pretty much the opposite.”

In that moment, Beau’s pretty sure she leaves her body from pure elation and when she gets back to herself, she babbling like a fucking idiot, “Holy fuck. You’re like a princess. You’re like my moonlight princess and your freckles are the stars. I’ll be the tides, I can follow you and holy fuck I love yo-”

A huge pale hand claps over her mouth, “Oh my gods, Beau, get your head in the game.” Zuala, one arm still cradling Beau’s mangled one is holding her mouth shut but she doesn’t want it to shut. She wants to tell Jester this, has to tell her. This might be the only chance to-

Beau reclaims her hand from Fjord and scrabbles to pull Zuala’s away from her mouth, “Z, look at her and tell me she’s not a princess. I have to tell her that I-”

“Obviously Jes is a princess, we all know that. But not right now you don’t. There will be time later.”

“But what if-”

“Shut the fuck up. And tell her after the fight.” Her usually amber eyes are nearly black as she looks down at Beau and she recognizes the same kind of fire from Yasha’s eyes earlier.

The fight. Fuck, there’s still one round left.

“The fight. Fuck.” It’s sobering enough to bring Beau back to herself, even as she sways, another wave of dizziness crashing over her. Jester finishes wrapping Beau’s chest and ties it off.

“We need to reset your arm.” Jester grimaces and glances up at Zuala. Fjord interrupts again, pushing more water into Beau’s mouth.

“You need to light those puppies up as soon as the bell goes,” He mutters, tapping the sides of her gloves, “Keep a damn distance.”

“I know. He fucking played me, the fucker.”

“I know.” Fjord lets out a shaky sigh and cups the back of her neck, “Scared the shit out of us.”

“I’m still kicking.”

“You’d best stay that way.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” He smirks at the nickname and looks like he wants to say more but Jester takes Beau’s face in her hands and all attention is immediately diverted.

“Hey Beau, can you look at me a sec, I just want to check your pupils, make sure you don’t have a concussion.”

“Why, I didn’t get hit in the hea- FUCKING SHIT, ZUALA.”

As Beau had been looking up into Jester’s face, Zuala took her shoulder and essentially rammed it back into socket. It clicks and grinds and shoots through with pain but… it is back in place.

“Sorry,” Jester whispers, feathering a kiss to Beau’s forehead so light that Beau’s not even sure it’s real.

 “No, no,” Beau presses her eyes closed and tries to take a deep breath before she remembers her busted ribs, “’S good. It’ll work.”

Jester strokes her thumbs on Beau’s cheeks one more time and then releases her face to takes her bad arm and help her rotate it. It aches something awful and feels dangerously like it’s about to slip out of place again but it stays and that’s honestly more than Beau was hoping for.

The bell clangs just as Jester goes back to the bag for tape and she crinkles her nose in frustration. Beau tracks every movement as she stands, wavers. Zuala takes her elbow and Beau swivels her head. The world’s spinning a little. Fuck.

“I’m not telling them,” She hisses, tugging Beau a little closer, “I’m not telling her. So get your ass out there and stay fucking standing.”

Beau swallows hard, nods and tries to think of something to say, fails. She looks back at Jester one more (Not last. Not last.) time. She’s elbow deep in Beau’s bag but, like she can feel Beau’s gaze, she looks up. She’s chewing the insides of her cheeks and the lines around her eyes are tight, but when she catches Beau watching she smiles, so soft and so pretty that Beau’s heart lurches even as the gate slams closed behind her.

Chapter Text

Eodwulf is adjusting his shirt as they come together in the ring again, and Beau catches sight of the end of a bandage around his torso. His ribs are as fucked as hers then, and he’s avoiding her gaze again. Good to know.

Drummond’s hand comes down between them and Beau’s exhausted body surges to life. The pain in her ribs and shoulder fades to a dull throbbing that does nothing but invigorate her. It’s a motivator, to prove just how much more than him she can take. Beau’s never been one to back away from a challenge.

Once again, she’s quicker on the draw then Eodwulf. In a practiced move, she taps the sides of her wrists together twice.  There’s a spark between her gauntlets as they ripple to life. The black material is suddenly shot through with white. A pattern lights up brilliantly over both her arms, lightning crackling down her arm, through her wrists and into the tips of her fingers, all the way up to her shoulders. It sends a tingling through the bones and the smell of ozone is sharp in her nose. It reminds Beau of when Yasha is fighting at her side and something about the comforting pseudo-presence bolsters her.

Beau darts in quick, pressing her advantage and hauling her fist back to crash into Eodwulf’s already sensitive left chest and he wheezes as first her fist and then the lightning from her gloves rocks through his body.

“See, I can do it too,” She snarls, before slipping under his waving arms and retreating far enough that she’s not in his immediate reach.

Eodwulf’s body twitches but he rights himself, wiping spittle and flecks of blood from his lip. He throws out an arm in her direction and their eyes lock. A warm sensation floods through Beau at that moment, and she can almost hear Eodwulf’s voice in her head.

“Give it up,” it says, and it sounds friendly, “You should just lay down right now and let me win.”

And Beau’s knees start to buckle. He’s right. I can just- But something catches the corner of her eye. Fjord is glaring up at her, lips pressed together so tightly they’re the color of limes. Fjord. Something isn’t right. Beau feels floaty and dope-y and charmed.

Motherfucker, she thinks and then presses her eyes closed. One deep breath. Another. Cleanse it out. The waves of Nicodranas start to crash in her mind and she can almost feel the sand, warm between her toes. Memories start to flood through suddenly, strengthening her connection to herself and fighting through the fog of whatever charm spell Eodwulf is shoving down her throat.

(Yahsa’s face when they left the house for the fight, battle ready and worried at once. Caleb laughing and throwing a wadded piece of paper in Beau’s face while they slogged through old texts, sleep deprived and punchy. Veth scolding Beau and Luc for starting a food fight in the dining room of the Lavish Chateau though it was mostly for show and she had definitely thrown at least one spoonful of seaweed salad. Quiet mornings and tea with Caduceus, before the rest of the Nein managed to get themselves out of their tents on camping trips. Fjord teaching her how to sail and how to actually talk to people without being a complete dickhead. The two of them promising to check each other and use what they can do for good. The look on Zuala’s face when Beau finally pinned her in the wrestling matches the girls had done instead of joining the boys at the theatre. Jester’s eyes sparking as fireworks exploded in the sky above Nicodranas. Jester’s laugh when Beau tripped over the rug outside her room. Jester’s nose, Jester’s mouth, Jester, Jester, Jester.)

The tether of the charm snaps and Beau’s mind is her own again. She rounds on Eodwulf, teeth bared and leaps forward. He tries to conjure a shield but Beau is in past his guard and whirling. A back fist connects with his nose and lightning zips down his neck. He grunts as Beau spins again, a hook kick to his ribs that sends him to his knees. Even down and injured he takes a swipe as she falls back, clips the center of her chest enough that she can feel the bones of her ribs move. The pain swells to blackness at the corners of her eyes but she beats it back, staggering a little and putting her hands up in defense.

Eodwulf pulls a single feather from the pouch at his side and lets it fall as he begins to rise. There’s a smug look on his face as he ascends, five, ten, fifteen feet, all the way to the top of the cage, some 30 feet in the air. He leers down at her, a burst blood vessel in his eye as his nose gushes again.

But Beau smirks back. Raises her gauntleted fists and unleashes a torrent of lightning up at him. He tries to dodge out of the way but it catches the edge of his leg and radiates up his body. He’s frothing at the mouth and seizing but he manages to stay aloft, though he dips a few feet.

“Can’t get away from me that easily,” Beau spits, trying not to lean too heavily on the chain link.

Eodwulf recovers a bit, hisses a spell and waves his hand wildly in Beau’s direction. Small magic missiles, six of them again spiral from his fingers and toward her. One hits her fragile shoulder and she bites her tongue as it subluxes. Another two burrow into the barely-closed cut on her cheek and it opens again, pouring blood. The other three aim right for her bad ribs and she feels two more crack. The black spots are doing a fucking jig in front of her eyes and she knows she can’t take another hit. So Beau does the only thing she can.

She runs up the wall.

With one hand, she propels herself upward, the other clutched to her side. When she hits the apex, she digs her toes into the links of the fence and shoots herself backward, flipping over parallel to the floor so that when she makes impact with the flying Eodwulf, it’s feet first. His flight pattern is thrown off wildly by her impact and he starts to plummet as the spell fails. Beau hauls back her fist one last time and sends electricity rocking through the center of his chest. In the back of her mind, she’s terrified it’ll stop his heart but more than anything she just wants this over. For her but mostly for Caleb.

Eodwulf hits the ground with Beau crouched on top of his chest. She rolls off gracelessly and stumbles to her feet.

He doesn’t move.

Through what feels like cotton-stuffed ears, the bell clangs and Drummond sprints to stand between them but there’s no need. Beau is already shambling her way back to where Zuala, Fjord and Jester are all crashing through the gate, beaming. They swoop in as one, bundling Beau into the center of them to the point where she can’t tell who’s holding what but it doesn’t matter. She won.

Relief washes through her at the feeling of all their arms around her. She doesn’t care that she’s bloody and battered and covered in sweat and neither do they. Zuala is screeching and Fjord is laughing and Jester is burrowed up close against Beau’s neck, talking a mile a minute, things Beau can’t hear but feels in her chest.

The celebration is short lived. Drummond descends upon them, yelling about protocol (Honestly, this is an illegal fighting ring. Lighten the fuck up.) and shooing them away. Jester reaches for Beau, diving magic already crackling at her fingertips but the dwarven referee has the audacity to slap her hands away and Beau’s about ready to start a fight with him too. But Jester flips him off and rolls her eyes and blows a kiss to Beau, accompanied by a soft “We’re right here, Beau.” that carries just a touch of healing magic, just enough to stem the flow of blood from her cheek.

Beau opens her mouth to respond but there’s a flash of a bald head behind them, outside of the ring, quickly hidden under a familiar grey-blue silk. Through the chain link, Dairon catches her eye and actually smiles before disappearing into the shadows. Beau’s heart thuds and finally the sound turns back up in her brain.

People are fucking screaming. It’s loud enough to hurt Beau’s ears. Across the cage, Eodwulf’s healer is putting him back together. He looks like a bloody mess and Beau watches his nose crack back into its original position. Mostly. His dark eyes fly open, spinning wildly until they alight on the Halfling gentleman manipulating one of his ribs out of his lung. That’s as far as the healing gets. Drummond escorts Eodwulf’s healer back out of the gate. Ikithon stands, expressionless under the mask, and when he sees Beau watching him, he inclines his head slightly. Her brain is too foggy to decipher any meaning behind it. Astrid’s eyes are glued to Eodwulf, watching him pant on the ground, tension thrumming through her body.

Beau sighs and limps her way over to Eodwulf. He’s blinking hard, breathing gently and doesn’t notice her until she extends the hand of her good arm down toward him. The beginnings of a glare start on his face but he stops himself. Beau keeps her hand out.

“I’ll keep my promise.”

He stares at her and then slowly extends his massive hand to take hers. She pulls him up with more effort than she’d like to admit. They both sway once he’s vertical but she keeps a grip on his forearm, waiting until he meets her gaze again.

“Make sure he keeps his.”

There’s not a moment of pause. Eodwulf just nods.

“I will.” His voice is rough and Beau remembers that she throat-punched him. Whoops.

“Tell Bre- Cal- Just tell him-”

Beau raises an eyebrow, half a challenge, half curious but after a moment of silence, Eodwulf shakes his head.

“Never mind,” he drops Beau’s arm, “You’re a good fighter.”

“You too.”

He turns away and hobbles back to the gate. Astrid is at his side as soon as he’s down the stairs, looping her arm around his waist. His arm falls instinctually over her slim shoulders but it looks like a significant amount of his weight is resting on her. Beau watches at the four of them slink out of sight, quickly swallowed by the gathering crowd.

Chapter Text

Jaquel skids to a halt in the middle of the floor, “Well, well well! What a fight, eh! We knew our girl would-”

Her voice peters out as Beau side-steps around her and out the gate. Fjord’s already got her bag over one arm, keys in hand.

“Shall we get the hell out of here?” He asks.

Beau’s knees are knocking by the time she reaches the bottom step and Zuala and Jester are at her side in an instant.

“Fuck. Yes.”

She starts to lift her arms to drape over Zuala and Jester but her left shoulder makes a horrific crunching sound as it subluxes further and she grits her teeth.

“Fuck,” she gasps, blinking hard to stay conscious, “Z, can you-”

“Hold on to Jessie,” Zuala takes Beau’s arm again and waits until Jester has her arms looped around Beau’s waist.

“Hi,” Jester whispers, still beaming up at Beau, “Fancy meeting you here.”

Beau opens her mouth to respond at the exact moment that Zuala shoves her shoulder back into place and all she manages is a garbled grunt, sinking face first against Jester’s shoulder. Of course, Jester holds her up.

“I’ll heal you as soon as we’re in the car, okay?” she promises, rubbing the small of Beau’s back gently.

“I’m good, ‘s fine now.” Beau lies, unconvincingly.

“Sure,” Zuala laughs, rubbing the back of Beau’s head, and then grimacing when her hand comes away wet.

Jester leads the way out of the building and Beau’s in such a haze of relief and pain that she barely registers Zuala and Fjord glaring and sometimes shoving past patrons on either side. Beau’s tennis shoes, half on her feet, flop loudly against the concrete floor as they head toward the back door. Jester’s tail is wrapped around Beau’s waist in extra support, the spade tip wriggling up under the bandages to rest over the worst of her broken ribs, the skin surely mottled a deep blue now.

“Tail’s nice,” Beau slurs, her head bobbing.

Jester giggles and the rush of fresh air as they make it outside is accompanied by a rush of affection that kind of hurts Beau’s chest.

“I forgot how loopy you get when you’re fucked up.” Jester strokes her thumb against Beau’s hip and Beau can’t fight the hum of contentment at the gesture.

“Wait, wait,” They all stop to look at her, Fjord halfway through stowing her bag in the back seat, Zuala still holding the back door of the butchery open. The sun has fully set by now and something about the shadows the streetlamps are making reminds Beau of-

“Dairon was at the fight.”

“Yeah,” Jester heaves Beau a little further out into the parking lot so Zuala can shut the door, “They watched from like. Behind a pillar but when they realized I saw them, they came to stand with us.”

“The whole time?”

“Pretty much. They’d go back to hiding between rounds.”

“Fuck. They saw him grab me and-”

“Yeah. But they also saw you win. They looked pretty proud.”

“Wow,” Beau breathes, swaying again.

Jester giggles and leans her up against the side of the car, pressing both hands to Beau’s ribs. Pink and blue energy wafts off her fingers and sinks, warm and light into Beau’s chest. There’s a hot sort of taffy feeling as Beau’s ribs untwist and reshape themselves back in place. It sinks down into her stomach and sweeps through Beau’s aching hips and knees. She groans, tipping her head back to rest against the car.

“Better?” Jester whispers and Beau cracks one eye to see her catch her bottom lip between her teeth. The yellow street light shines through locks of her hair and catches her cheeks and Good Gods.

“Much.” Beau can’t help but stare, doesn’t stop her bruised finger from reaching out to tuck Jester’s hair behind her ear. Jester sighs and Beau’s breath catches again.

Fjord sticks his head out of the driver’s side window. Beau doesn’t even remember him getting in, “Am I taking you home? Beau, you probably need a shower and some re-”

“No. No, I want to go see Caleb.”

“Beau-”

“No, look I’ll take a baby wipe and deodorant shower in the car, I want to see Caleb.” Though her chest is aching far less, her panicked foggy head hasn’t cleared much.

“We could all hang out at Essek’s for a while!” Jester pipes up, “Everyone else is already there. It could be fun!”

Fjord sighs but nods, ducking his head back into the car and starting the engine. Still a little stiff, Beau crawls her way into the back seat and Jester goes to the other side. Fjord pulls out of the parking lot as soon as they’re all buckled in and Jester presses another healing spell into Beau’s shoulder. The burns close over but the bones don’t stop grinding when she moves. Jester assures her that over the next few days and a couple more healing spells, it should be good as new. Beau opts for a butterfly band-aid over the cut on her face and Zuala rolls her eyes dramatically at Beau’s talks of a new scar.

Essek’s house is on the nice side of town, far enough away that Beau manages to wipe down all of the accessible parts of her body, even scrubbing at her undercut, with a couple lavender scented wet wipes (Jester insisted the lavender scented ones were the best and Beau was too much of a softie to disagree, throwing them in the cart and following after her with a dopey smile last time they were at the store) and dousing herself in more deodorant that was probably healthy for her pores.

The music was low on the radio, some of the folky stuff Fjord usually listened to and Beau felt like a weight had been lifted off of her chest. She’d done it. She kept her friends safe. The amber of the streetlights passing illuminates Zuala and Fjord singing along quietly in the front seat, windows down. The cool summer night is refreshing and Beau feels like she’s about to wax poetic about how beautiful everything is right now when Jester’s hand skitters across the middle seat and tangles with Beau’s on her lap. The words die in her throat. She doesn’t need them.

“Oh!” Jester squeaks as they turn down Essek’s street and starts rummaging in the pockets of her dress, “I almost forgot.”

Zuala turns around in the front seat in time to see Jester produce an only slightly lint-y piece of bacon.

“Sweet!” Beau smiles, reaching for it.

“Oh, come on no, that’s gross, it’s hours old and it’s-” Zuala’s words peter out as Beau folds the whole strip of bacon into her mouth at once, “Gods, you’re perfect for each other.”

Beau wipes the back of her hand across her mouth, trying to staunch the blush in her cheeks but Jester just smiles and squeezes Beau’s fingers.

Essek’s house looks like someone took a brownstone apartment, tripled it in every dimension and set it at the end of a long driveway. Which, Beau had reasoned the first time they came here, was entirely possible. The lights are off except for the porch and the ones on the second floor that they know are in the library. There’s a balcony on the far end of the room, the French doors flung open and light pouring out. As Fjord pulls in, they watch Yasha wander out through the doors, face tipped up toward the stars. Zuala is out of the car before it’s stopped moving. Beau smirks and shrugs her shirt over her head as the rest of them clamber out of the car.

“But soft!” Zuala’s calling up, down on one knee and gesturing wildly, “What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east. And Yasha is the sun!” Even from twenty feet below, Beau can see Yasha’s cheeks go pink and she smiles fondly down at her wife.

“I’ll come let you in,” She murmurs, turning back toward the library and calling out to Veth and Caduceus.

“And I’m the soft bitch,” Beau teases, knocking her hip against Zuala’s shoulder as she passes.

“I’m sorry,” Zuala hops to her feet as Yasha disappears and rounds on Beau, “Do you want me to play the recording of you babbling like an idiot at Jester between rounds? Fjord was filming it.”

Beau can’t entirely remember what she said in those lost moments of pain and exhaustion but she whirls around to look at Fjord, “You didn’t.”

“No, nope, of course not.” He says in the way that means he absolutely did.

“Fuck, dude!” Beau’s about to say more but cool fingers slide between hers and, like always, Jester gets her attention with almost no effort.

“Wait, Fjord, send it to me! I wanna watch it again!” Jester swings their linked hands and skips up close to Beau, “I want her to remember calling me a starlight princess or whatever.”

“Moon light. Moon light princess, it was,” Zuala corrects, laughing.

“Yeah, your freckles were the stars,” Fjord joins in, chuckling too.

“I didn’t say that!” Beau’s cheeks are burning. Jester drops her hand, only to slide her arms around Beau’s waist while they walk, hugging herself against Beau’s side.

“You did and you can’t take it back now!” She sings and Beau drops her face between Jester’s horns, her good arm looping around Jester’s shoulder.

She’s saved the embarrassment of answering by Yasha opening the front door.

“Wife!” Zuala exclaims, sweeping in to kiss Yasha so fervently that it makes it seem like days since they saw each other, not mere hours.

“I take it the fight went well, then?” Yasha asks, a little breathless when Zuala pulls back.

“Beau was amazing!” Jester gushes, still pressed close under her arm, “She was like. Super fucked up too but I healed her.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Yasha motions on her own face where Beau’s black eye and split cheek would be, “Well it is good to see you all. The others are in the library.”

Everyone kicks off their shoes into the pile already stacked by the front door. There’s a distant clattering from the kitchen and a tea kettle begins to whistle. Yasha leads the way up the stairs, Zuala right on her heels and Fjord breaks off toward the kitchen.

“Caduceus, would you like a hand?”

There’s a muffled response and Fjord hurries his pace a little bit. Beau heaves a big breath, once again basking in the glow of no longer dreading something on the horizon. Jester looks up at her as they take to the stairs. She’d pulled away from Beau when they were taking off their shoes but comes back now, wrapping her arm around Beau’s waist and snuggling in when Beau drapes her arm back across Jester’s shoulders.

“Are you okay?” She asks softly, fidgeting with the bottom of Beau’s shirt in a way that sends Beau’s brain into soft focus.

“Yeah,” Beau manages to get out, “I’m…” She searches for the word, trailing her free hand up the smooth, cool banister of the stairs. Zuala and Yasha have disappeared around the corner ahead of them.

“Happy.” She finally gets out. It’s easier to say it when they’re alone. Saying it out loud at all scares the shit out of her. Like the universe will hear and think “Hmm, Beau is happy, time to wreck everything.” But Jester’s beaming at her and bounces up on her toes to kiss Beau’s cheek so maybe everything’s going to be okay…

“Good,” She murmurs, still so close to Beau’s face, “You deserve to be happy.” And before Beau can get lost down that emotional rabbit hole, Jester tugs her the rest of the way up the stairs and to Essek’s library.

A classical music record is on the turntable and the lights are low, the way Essek likes it. Four little globules of light hang around the table where he and Caleb are bent low over old textbooks and a handful of ancient tomes. Caleb’s eyes flick up as they enter but they’re a little far away. He’s still lost in whatever magical theory he’d been reading. He only really registers familiar figures, waves a hand in indiscriminate greeting before he’s back into the book. Veth is curled into a chair, cat-like, at the far end of the table, her own notebook out, flipping idly through the pages of an alchemical text. She looks up as Beau and Jester shuffle in and hops off her chair.

“How’d it- I mean,” She starts, cheeks flushing a little bit, “How has your perfectly normal evening been, Beauregard and Jester?”

“Subtle,” Beau grumbles, tugging gently on one of her braids, “We’re all good.”

“And by all good you mean…?”

“All good.”

Veth stares up at Beau in awe and then throws her arms around Beau’s waist over top of Jester’s, “Thank you Beau.”

Beau ducks her head and looks away, “I- Don’t thank me, dude.”

“Why’s your face still messed up?” Veth asks, brushing at her cheeks to catch the tear that escaped her eyes, “I mean. More so than usual.”

“Beau’s face is beautiful, Veth!” Jester admonishes.

“Oh is it now, Jester?” She asks, taking in how closely Jester is wrapped around Beau, seemingly for the first time. Her eyebrows shoot up and Beau’s getting real sick of this “blushing” shit.

“Ohhhh.” Veth’s face splits into a wide grin as she draws out the word and wiggles her eyebrows, “So you finally told her?”

“Told me what?” Jester asks, trying and failing to hide her smile. Beau aims a kick at Veth’s shins which, of course, she hops out of the way of.

“Shut up, you said you wouldn’t tell!”

“I don’t think it matters much anymore!” Veth sings, dancing out of reach and scrambling part way up one of the rolling ladders Essek had installed for Caleb to navigate the library’s higher shelves. She glides off toward one of the corners of the library, cackling loudly.

Jester’s arm tightens around her waist as she laughs too, preventing Beau from chasing Veth. She looks like she’s about to speak when Caduceus and Fjord round the corner of the library door. They both have trays held out in front of them, one piled high with Jester’s cookies and the other, a teetering tower of teacups, surrounding Essek’s ancient teapot. Zuala stands from her position on the couch next to Yasha to help unstack the mugs so they don’t fall.

Caduceus smiles his usual sleepy smile and sets about making tea the way everyone likes. He has to physically take Caleb’s hand and curl it around the handle of his teacup, the wizard’s eyes still fixed on the page, hand groping blindly in mid-air.

“Thank you Caduceus,” Still distracted.

“Maybe a break for you two. You’ve been hunched over an awfully long time.” He sets Essek’s drink down in front of him, a little louder than necessary but it shakes both wizards out of their book stupor long enough to mark the page and close their books. Caduceus turns to Beau next, still drizzling honey into her mug.

“Oh, Beau your cheek,” He says like he’s just noticed, even though Beau knows better than to underestimate his observance. At the last word, a puff of light green energy wafts off Caduceus and settles over the cut on Beau’s face which gently stitches itself together.

“Aw no, man, I was trying to get another cool scar!” Beau whines without any real energy behind it.

Caduceus chuckles, “Plenty of time for that later.”

“Say thank you, Beau,” Jester nudges, tickling the exposed parts of Beau’s stomach. She squirms away half out of ticklishness, half out of gay panic. Jester laughs brightly and Beau’s cheeks are flaming.

“Thank you, Caduceus,” She grumbles, peeling the bandaid off her face and stuffing it into her pocket.

“Beauregard, why were you injured? I thought you and Fjord and Zuala were helping Jester with inventory at the tattoo shop this evening,” Caleb takes a slow sip of tea, watching her and Beau feels like she’s been dunked in ice water.

No one else in the room moves. All eyes are glued to her, ready to follow her lead whatever the next move might be.

“I… I did tell you that, didn’t I?” Beau unravels herself from Jester and takes a few steps away.

“What’s going on, Beau?”

She sighs and turns away, out toward the open French doors. For a split second, she thinks about vaulting over the balcony and just running back home. The thought passes.

“So… You don’t need to worry about Ikithon or Eodwulf or any of them anymore.” Not her most eloquent but it gets the job done.

She turns back to find him pale faced, jaw clenched. Essek has a hand in the small of his back and Caleb is staring at her with a mixture of horror and hope on his face.

“What have you done?”

“I… would you believe we fought for you?” She laughs weakly. He doesn’t.

“What does that mean?”

“It means I made a deal. I won and you’re… safe. You’re free.”

“You made a deal with him?” His voice is definitely brittle now and he’s holding onto the table for support.

“I- Yeah, a little bit. We fought at-”

“You went back to-”

“For one night, I’m not back back, you know and-”

“-was very stupid, Beau, what were you thinking!”

“I was thinking I’m sick of you waiting for the other shoe to drop all the time, man. Looking over your shoulder and living in fear and- You deserve more than that.”

He’s quiet for a moment, still clutching the table, then, “What happened? At the fight? Who did you-”

“Eodwulf.”

His face goes pallid again and he actually sinks into a chair, “And you are unhurt?”

“Well. I wasn’t. Jes had to fix me up.” And she points to the bottom of the bandage that’s still peeking out from the underside of her shirt.

“So… So they’re gone. They’re done with me? Forever?” There’s more hope that Beau’s ever heard in his voice and her throat closes up a little.

“Yeah, Caleb. You don’t need to worry about them anymore.”

There’s another beat of silence before his face breaks out into a massive grin, “Oh… Beauregard.”

“I just… I just wanted you safe. You’re… Important to me. All of you are.” Beau can suddenly feel all of their eyes on her again and her neck feels hot. 

“That was a very noble thing to do, Ms. Beau.” Caduceus hums, chin back on top of Fjord’s head.

“And stupid,” Veth calls from her perch.

Beau huffs, “Yeah… maybe a little.”

“What was the cost?” Caleb asks, now holding Essek’s hand on his shoulder. Beau’s stomach swoops and she swivels back around to wander to the other end of the library, away from everyone.

“There wasn’t one, I won, it doesn’t matter.” It’s too much to hope that they’ll drop it.

“Beau.” It’s Zuala, low and quiet and when Beau glances over her shoulder, she’s closer than the rest. Just past Zuala, Beau can see Jester leaned up against Yasha, forehead crinkled, watching her.

Beau sighs and kneads at her eyes with her fists before turning quickly and striding across the room to grab Caleb by the arm.

“You know I would never do anything to intentionally put you in danger, right?”

He levels her with a painfully blank stare.

“Yes, Beau. I know that.”

She sighs and clears her throat. The room is painfully quiet and Beau stares down at her own knuckles, going pale against Caleb’s arm. There are still flecks of blood and burst blood vessels. Minor injuries that wouldn’t have taken the brunt of Jester’s focus. They’re kind of a good reminder.

“I… look, he’s a fucking sadist, so having something he’d already tried to corrupt wouldn’t have been as fun. But something new. Someone new…”

“No,” Veth whispers, sliding down from the ladder and coming up to tangle her fingers in the side of Jester’s dress.

“And I work with Dairon so there’s a lot of insider secret stuff that I know and...” It’s hard to breathe or look at any of them so she just keeps squeezing her hands into Caleb’s coat, “And he already has a ton of powerful wizards so I thought that even if I did lose, you would still be safe and-”

Caleb surges forward and wraps her in tight to his chest. She clings back, fisting a hand in the back of his shirt. She can feel him shaking. Maybe she is too.

“Do not ever make a deal like that for me again. Please.”

“No promises,” She mutters and she knows it’s not the answer he wants but she’s done lying to them. He clutches her closer and shakes his head.

“Du bist ein dummkopf, schwester.” His voice quavers and she laughs shakily into his shoulder.

“Yeah, I know.” Beau definitely thought her body’s reserves of adrenaline were running on empty but another spike races through her and Caleb turns to kiss the side of her head.

Beau’s about to say more when there’s scuffling behind her and the doors to the balcony click shut. Veth’s hand is still suspended where she’d been holding onto Jester but Jester is gone. 

Chapter Text

Beau’s heart skips a beat. Oh no. Oh fuck. You idiot.

Caleb feels her tense up, pats her back and pulls away.

“Go talk to her.”

Essek is still hovering at his back, literally now, just a few inches off the ground and as soon as Beau’s pulled away, he wraps his arms around Caleb’s shoulders and nuzzles against his neck like Frumpkin.

“We’re okay?” She rasps, torn.

And he smiles, easy and gentle and… Beau almost starts crying right there. Worth it. It was worth it.

“Ja, Beauregard. We can talk more later but we are good.”

She swallows hard, nods once and makes a beeline for the doors, refusing to look at any of her friends on the way. They still haven’t moved or spoken and her cheeks feel like they’re burning. The night air feels good on her face as she steps out onto the balcony and closes the door behind her.

Jester doesn’t look up from her place at the railing, facing away from the house. Her head is bowed a little bit and Beau catches just the tail end of her speaking under her breath but she stops as soon as the doors open. Sounds like when she usually talks to The Traveler.

“Hey Jester.” Beau’s mouth feels dry.

“What are you doing out here, you should be in, talking to Caleb.” Her voice is full of forced cheer, a bite under the surface and Beau winces. She’d much rather take outwardly angry Jester from earlier than this… sharp, fake happiness.

“We’re good now I think. He kind of sent me out here actually, unless…” Jester’s still facing away from her looking out toward the front lawn, back straight, fingers clenched on the railing. The only thing moving is her tail, lashing back and forth. Never a good sign.

“Unless you want to be alone?” Beau hedges, dread sending her stomach through the floor.

There’s a too long moment where Jester stands motionless, shoulders tight before, jerkily, she shakes her head.

“No, you can stay.”

Beau closes the distance between them, taking up residence next to her at the railing, hands resting just a few inches away from Jester’s but she can’t bring herself to reach out and touch.

She doesn’t know how long they stand in silence. Long enough for the tension between them to set up an itch in her skin and for her fingers to start drumming on the railing. Finally, she spits out.

“I’m sorry that’s how you found… This was why I didn’t want to tell you before because-”

“You just told me you were happy, not even an hour ago, and you were willing to give that up!” Jester hisses, finally rounding on Beau. It’s like magic missiles to the chest all over again. Her eyes swimming, hands clenched, jaw tight.

“No. I mean- I didn’t- Jester-” The words are getting chopped up in her head and none of them are getting to her mouth right.

“What do we need to do to convince you that we love you? That we care about you? That we want you here with us, to stay, always. We’ll do it, you know we will.” Jester sweeps forward, impatiently brushing a tear off her cheek and grabbing Beau.

“Whatever you need. You can’t keep trying to sacrifice yourself for us. First Veth and now Caleb and-” Her hands are like ice as she holds on to Beau’s arms, trying to press as close as she can and still see Beau’s face.

“Okay, I know. I’m sorry. I get it. I just… I don’t know!” Beau’s throat starts to close up and she tries to breathe deeply but it’s not working, “I don’t know how to do this happy thing. The stable thing, it’s new and I… I’m really fucking scared I’m going to lose it suddenly in some stupid way that’s out of my control. So, if I lose it in a way that is under my control… I don’t know, maybe it’ll hurt less. At least I can pinpoint the exact moment it went bad and know for sure that was it. Make sure it’s my own fault instead of something I could have prevented.”

“That’s just… Stupid!” Jester’s voice kicks up an octave and she shakes Beau a little,  
“Why would being in control of it happening make it easier? You’d be miserable either way!”

“I know, I don’t know! Being in control of it has to be better than the alternative.” Beau’s leaking again, tears tracing hot tracks down her face. She hasn’t cried this much in a day since they went to Kamordah.

“But the alternative could be happiness, Beau! You don’t know it’s going to go away. We all want to stay together.” Jester’s voice drops to a low and soothing timber as she releases Beau’s arms and reaches up to cup her cheeks.

“You can’t promise it won’t happen though, Jes.” Her voice is breaking but she’s crowding as close to Jester as she can get because the happiness is right there. Right in front of her and through the balcony doors.

“You don’t know that it will though,” Her fingers are cool on Beau’s face, stroking her thumb across her cheeks, wiping the tears that won’t fucking stop.

“It will. It always does. I fuck things up by accident all the time so if I ruin them on purpose-” Her breath is whistling in and out of her lungs.

“We didn’t talk about this enough after Isharnai,” Jester whispers, sudden clarity coming to her face, immediately followed by heartbreak, “Oh no, I’m so sorry we didn’t tell you this enough after that. You should never have to sacrifice your happiness for any of us.”

“I’m an asshole though. I’m used to feeling like shit. I’d rather do it myself, it’s better than one of you.”

“You are not an asshole. I mean, you are but you’re our asshole. The good kind of asshole. And we don’t want you to be alone. We want you with us. You deserve to feel good. You make us better.”

Beau snorts but Jester tugs her chin around so they’re eye to eye. There are tears streaming down Jester’s cheeks too but her voice is steady. Almost reverently, Beau brings up a hand to catch her tears and Jester leans into the touch, turns and kisses her palm again.

“You do. You are so good Beau. And you make us happy. You make me so, so happy and it kills me to see you do things like this or throw yourself in front of us when there’s danger.”

“That’s my job.”

“Not always. It doesn’t always have to be your job. Not all bullets are meant for you.”

“But-”

“No. You are allowed to feel safe. You are allowed to feel happy. You are allowed to want things. You’re allowed to ask for help. It doesn’t make you bad or selfish or weak or any of those things. You are a good person and you are loved. Okay? I know it’s not easy to believe all the time but that’s why you have a family to remind you. That’s why you have us.”

Beau lets out a quiet sob as the words sink in. She closes her eyes and tries to turn away from Jester but she doesn’t let it happen. Jester moves with Beau’s head, squeezing herself between the railing and Beau’s body.

“You can’t get away from me that easily, Beau.” And Beau feels herself chuckle wetly, curling forward to wrap herself around Jester.

“You don’t have to talk about it right now or even to me but I just want to make sure you know how important you are and that we don’t want to lose you.”

“Thanks Jes.” Beau croaks. The words she wants to say are on the tip of her tongue but… It’s not the right time. She swallows them down again and instead just breathes in the smell of her best friend and lets Jester hold her up for a moment. Which, of course, she does.

XXX

The car ride home is uneventful. After Beau and Jester, significantly less teary and hand in hand, rejoined the rest of the Nein in the library, the fight had been recounted, snacks and tea had been partaken and the atmosphere lightened considerably. It almost felt like a party. Caleb looked like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Not all of it (Beau was pretty sure that was never going to happen), but there was a noticeable difference. He laughed quicker, leaned into Essek more, even teased more easily. Beau’s heart hurt with the happiness of it. She hadn’t wanted to leave but when she started nodding off against Jester’s shoulder in the middle of conversations, everyone decided it was time to go home.

 Yasha and Zuala are quiet in the front seat, Yasha’s arm stretching across the console to rest on Zuala’s leg. The music is low enough that they only hear every few notes of guitar. Beau’s head lolls against the window, her eyes drooping. Jester’s holding her hand again. And then-

“Oh,” Jester jumps a little.

“You okay?” Beau murmurs, sitting up a little straighter.

“Your phone buzzed. I forgot it was in my pocket.” Jester whispers, dropping the device in Beau’s lap before curling up against her shoulder. Beau opens it with one hand, the other trapped, entwined in Jester’s. Two texts, both from Dairon.

The first one reads “See you at the gym on Monday, Expositor.”

And the second : “Good job tonight.”

Beau’s stupid throat feels tight again as she tips the screen just far enough to the right for Jester to see.

“Oh,” She breathes quietly after flicking her eyes across the messages. Nothing more is said, Jester just holds onto Beau tighter and kisses her shoulder as she tries to get a handle on every emotion she’s felt over the course of the day.

Feeling Jester pressed up against her in the back seat, it’s getting harder and harder to swallow back the words she’s been fighting for months now. She’s pretty sure they don’t actually need to be spoken but… she’s been wrong about things before and Jester deserves to know all of the-

No, not here. However much Beau loves Zuala and Yasha, professing her feelings to their mutual best friend in the back seat of the car on the way home isn’t exactly the way Beau wants to do this. Instead, Beau settles further into the seats and lets the words scroll through her brain, trying as hard as she can to project them down through her cheek and into the top of Jester’s head.

They arrive home to a blessedly dark and calm house. Beau takes the first shower, Zuala and Yasha hustling each other into their room and Beau is endlessly grateful that her bedroom is at the opposite end of the hallway from theirs.

The hot water feels like heaven sluicing down her aching muscles and washing away the leftover blood and grime from the ring. It feels like a fresh start. Beau’s not one for religion really, but it feels like she’s being… washed clean of whatever was holding her back before. Or she’s fucking exhausted and got a concussion and, yeah, a little horny on main for her best friend who might just have feelings for her too… yeah, that seems more likely.

Jester’s door is shut when Beau gets out of the shower and she almost goes to talk to her or kiss her again or something but dripping wet and appearing at her door in a towel might send the wrong message. Clothes. Yeah, clothes first. 

Beau ducks into her room and throws on a pair of old, soft shorts and a crop top (if she’s hoping Jester touches her abs again, who can really blame her). As an afterthought, she runs a brush through her wet hair and pulls it up into a bun again so it’s not dripping down her back.

It doesn’t take her more than three minutes but even so, when she sticks her head back out into the hallway, Jester’s door is ajar and she can hear the shower running. Beau tries her best not to be disappointed. Maybe it’s for the best, she thinks, It’s been a stressful day and… yeah, we don’t need to do this now. There’s time. And holy fuck there is time. It’s not something that has to be rushed.

With a sigh, Beau flings herself back on her bed. It’s over. Holy shit. She tries not to think about it too much. It’s been taking up so much real estate in her brain over the last few days that to wipe it away is a relief. Instead, her mind drifts over the little gathering they’d had at Essek’s. Caleb’s quiet laughter. Yasha’s quiet huff as Zuala whispered something the rest of them couldn’t quite make out but definitely made both of their cheeks pink. Jester pulling Beau’s legs over her lap on the couch. Fjord chasing Veth around when she snuck pepper flakes into his last (favorite) sip of tea, Caduceus watching on calmly.

Beau’s eyes have just fallen closed, heavy and slow when there’s a soft knock at her door. She jolts up, running the back of her hand across her eyes and stumbling to the door.

It’s Jester, barefoot with wet hair and wearing a set of matching pink pajama top and bottoms. She’s got a pillow clutched in front of her and a nervous smile on her face. She looks gorgeous. Beau’s mouth goes dry.

“Hey Jes,” she croaks.

Jester smiles up at her for half a second before dropping her gaze to her feet. “Can I… is it weird if I stay with you tonight?”

“I- no yeah, please. I mean. If you want to. I would also. Like that.” She stands to the side and Jester sweeps into the room, flinging her pillow onto Beau’s bed and setting her phone on the bedside table. Beau closes the door and tries to shake the jitters out of herself. Just because you kissed a couple times doesn’t change anything. This is just like every other sleepover you’ve ever had.

At least, it is until 3 second later when Jester opens her mouth.

“You never told me what Veth was talking about earlier.”

Beau sucks in a breath and drops her gaze to her own bare feet. Well fuck, we’re just going for it, aren’t we?

“Does it really need saying?” She can’t even bring herself to be embarrassed by the fact that she’s been doing a shit job of hiding her feelings since Nicodranas.  

Jester’s lips curl up and she bats her eyelashes, “Might be nice to hear it.”

Beau sucks in a breath and chews her lips before she gets out, “I … like you. A lot.” Play it cool.

“Is that all?” Jester’s smile widens.

Fuck, Beau forgets how perceptive Jester actually is, especially when she’s usually so disarming, “Well no but I don’t want to freak-”

“Just say it, Beau.” She’s doing that gentle thing with her voice that Beau can’t resist and she feels herself melt.

“I love you.” It feels like magic, breathing those words into existence, or as close to magic as Beau is ever going to get. And even if Jester doesn’t feel the same way yet, or ever, Beau’s glad she-

“I love you too.”

That is not what Beau was expecting. Her brain goes to the pleasant static again and she gapes at Jester, opening and closing her mouth before clearing her throat and trying again.

“I… I mean, are you sure?”

Jester giggles and glides closer, closing the gap between them and wrapping her arms around Beau’s waist, “I thought kissing you during the fireworks was a dead give away for sure.”

Oh yeah, dumbass, grumbles a voice in her head that sounds suspiciously like Zuala, you definitely should have known sooner, “I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah, I knew you were never going to do anything about it so I had to.”

“Can you blame me? On what planet would you want to be with someone like me? Still doesn’t make sense.”

Jester’s face fell into a pout and she pulled herself even closer, “On every planet, Beau.”

“No, Jes, I didn’t mean it like-”

“Beau, shut up and just kiss me, it’s been like. Forever.”

Beau’s mouth feels like chalk again, “I mean, it’s just been a few hours and-”

“Oh my gods, Beau!” Bowuh.

“Right, sorry.” Beau swoops forward and presses her lips against Jesters. It feels like there are balloons in her chest and she can feel Jester smile against her mouth. She hums a sigh and moves her arms from around Beau’s waist to twine them behind Beau’s neck. Beau realizes her hands are just hanging limply at her sides and brings them up to rest on either side of Jester’s hips.

Jester angles her head, nips at Beau’s bottom lip and runs her fingers through Beau’s undercut and Beau… well Beau loses it a little. She surges closer, eliminating any space between them. The hem of Jester’s pajama shirt rides up and she slips her hands underneath, reveling in the cool, soft skin of Jester’s stomach.

Jester gasps, high and soft as Beau’s rough hands skate up her sides and Beau comes back to herself for a moment. Immediately, she yanks her hands from under Jester’s shirt. She doesn’t pull away completely, just back far enough to talk, foreheads still pressed together. It’s something of a comfort that they’re both heaving for breath.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Is that okay, I didn’t mean-”

“Beau, it’s fine, it feels really nice.” She rubs her nose against Beau’s, “Makes sense why you were all squirmy earlier now.”

Beau huffs a laugh, “I mean you had me pinned to a wall too so like. I was-”

“Oh yeah, you did like that, didn’t you?”

“Look, you kissing me just about anywhere is going to be more than enough for me to-”

“Oh my gods, Beau, you’re already being so sappy.”

Beau ducks her head, nudging up under Jester’s jaw to trail kisses down her neck. She can feel the groan in response vibrating under her lips and chuckles a little, nipping at the skin gently, “Look, I’ve been thinking about this for longer than I’d care to admit, you don’t have to be teasing me about it already.”

Jester nudges Beau back by the shoulders and there’s a smirk on her face when Beau finally looks up.

“How long exactly, Beau?”

Beau groans in embarrassment (it’s a common theme for the day apparently) and pulls Jester in close. She teeters backwards until her own knees hit the side of the bed and she sits down, pulling Jester in to straddle her lap.

“Answers later, more kissing now,” And then, because she feels weird about it, “But only if you want to. Obviously we can talk and-”

Jester’s hands are on top of hers, pulling them back up under her shirt, before she takes Beau’s face in her hands and presses their lips together.

“You can definitely stop asking that now, Beau.”

XXX

Beau wakes in the morning, pressed against Jester’s back, to the sound of her own raspy, battle weary voice calling Jester a princess and Jester giggling quietly in the bed next to her. It’s about as close to perfect as life can get.