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The bunkhouse was quiet now compared to the energy that imbued it at breakfast and dinner; the bustle replaced with soft sounds of breathing and the occasional snore, the creaking of the wooden structure and distantly, the deep rhythmic thud of a giant bear's footfalls across a wintry landscape.
Oscar Wilde was awake. A side effect of his extended sleep after the resurrection, he supposed. Not that he hadn't always been a bit of a night owl, of course, and of late his sleeping pattern had been increasingly erratic while trying to find a way to fix the end of the world.
He was vaguely aware that he wasn’t the only one awake; Carter and Sassraa were also up and talking together somewhere. Zolf's suggestion that he might want to speak with them flitted through his mind but he dismissed it. There were more immediate things he wanted to sort out.
Such as the dwarf currently fast asleep on his bed.
Zolf, it seemed, had finally succumbed to the events of the last few days, the book he had been reading resting open on his chest where it had slipped from lax fingers. In the light of the low burning lamp, he noted that Zolf's brow was smoothed of the tension that had been increasingly present over the past eighteen months, setting the shape of a near permanent frown. Oscar’s fingers itched to trace the barely visible lines. He wasn’t entirely sure why.
It had been an altogether strange day.
He'd awoken from jumbled dreams to find Zolf sitting vigil by him, apparently lost in this same well-thumbed book. In the brief moment before Zolf had realised he was awake, Oscar had drunk in the sight of him. The frown had seemed deeper than he’d ever seen it, accompanied by dark shadows beneath his eyes. Zolf’s gaze had flickered over and when he spotted Oscar was awake, he’d looked so relieved , his face lighting up in a way that suffused warmth through his chest .
As they’d ventured outside, he’d slung an arm around Zolf’s shoulders instinctively. He hadn’t really known what was going on and frankly, Zolf had been acting a little mysterious but somehow it just seemed- right?
It hadn’t been surprising to learn that he'd died. Zolf's words had only confirmed something he had known subconsciously. He remembered the airship. He recalled waking here. The interim period itself was somewhat... muddled. He sensed that there'd been a familiar presence but whatever had happened? He'd just been left with a renewed awareness of Zolf and their closeness.
"Take some time. Think about it. You don't have to say anything."
Something about Zolf's face had been so open. He really wished he could remember the details of that conversation.
--
Zolf had seemed different at breakfast; lighter, happier in a way that Oscar has rarely, if ever, seen. The smile on his face had sparked that warm feeling in his chest again. He liked Zolf’s smile, the way it crinkled at the corners of his eyes. For the first time in a long while Oscar was content and allowed himself to just be present - without plans or paperwork nor desperately seeking a solution that might not exist to distract him. Content to just sit and listen to Zolf argue good-naturedly with Earhart, to covertly watch Cel flirt with a flustered Barnes, and to eat his breakfast as if he were entirely unaware of Hamid stealing glances at the pair of them when he thought they weren't looking. (He made a mental note to give the sorcerer a few tips in spycraft later).
"Earhart and me are gonna inspect the ship." Zolf stood a little awkwardly as he asked, "Uh. You can come with? If you like? Unless you want some, uh, you-time?". The phrasing seemed familiar but Oscar couldn't place it.
"I'll come. Time for me to see if this supposed bear really exists, hmm?" He replied lightly with a pat on Zolf's shoulder as he turned the phrase over in his head. A conversation they’d had in quarantine perhaps? Over drinks at the bow bar?
As they wound their way through narrow streets towards the dock, Zolf kept shooting him sidelong glances as they walked. Oscar touched at his hair, self-consciously. "Do I truly look so terrible, Zolf?" He’d thought it quite distinguished, really. It was the absence of the scar that had been more startling.
Zolf’s eyes widened. "No! No, you look fine. Good! You look-" He trailed off with a cough. "Um, healthy. It's, uh, good to see." He dropped his gaze, apparently very interested in his boots.
Ah. Oscar wondered how he'd looked after the crash. For a moment, his chest seemed to twinge painfully. Who had been the first to find him? He'd awoken in clean clothes, so someone must have tidied him up. They'd have to talk about that later.
Before he’d been able to come up with a way of restarting the conversation, they’d reached the docks. He'd stood out on the wooden boards of the jetty and gazed into the distant mountains and was overcome with an odd sense of deja vu. For a dizzying moment he was convinced that when he looked down there'd be nothing but mist and open air. When he screwed up enough courage to risk looking down, it had been disorientating instead to see broad brown-furred flanks of a massive creature crisscrossed with intricate webs of rope. Fascinating.
The ship itself was, quite frankly, a wreck. Oscar found his gaze drawn to a particular splintered and dark-stained spar sticking out from the hull that sent his gut roiling. He rubbed at the tight feeling in his chest and a hand on his arm drew him out of his reverie.
"Wilde." Zolf's tone was soft, as he tugged him away gently. "We should check the engines."
"Was that-" Oscar cut himself off at a shake of the dwarfs head.
"Best not dwell, yeah?"
As they continued the inspection, Zolf encouraged him to make a list in his notebook, directing his attention to various bits of the ship they'd need supplies to repair. He recognised it for the distraction it was, but appreciated the effort.
Afterwards, they left Earhart with the airship, talking plans with some of the kobolds and took a tour of the city together. Zolf's mood was light again, and Oscar even caught him chuckling a few times at groups of children playing with marbles. When was the last time they'd had time for themselves like this? He felt freer than he had in an age.
The city was fascinating; delicious but unfamiliar smells wafting through the air, alien languages being barked across market stalls. "You know, this almost feels like a holiday.” He mused aloud, as they wove between the crowds together, pointing out different sights to one other.
Zolf halted and cocked his head at that, giving him a long, searching look. "Do you-?" He cut himself off when he saw Oscar’s confused expression, his face slightly flushed as he muttered, "Never mind." He tugged on Oscar’s hand. "Here, look, is that Azu and Kiko over there?"
Oscar would have been offended at how obvious the redirect was if he wasn’t so damned curious about Zolf’s reaction. Today the cleric had been an intriguing mix of open and bashful that was entirely at odds with the usual gruff manner he exuded. ‘That really must have been some conversation we had.'
--
Oscar watched Zolf sleep. They'd sat together on his bed when they finally returned, talking quietly as Zolf filled him in on the last few days. His voice cracked as he described finding Wilde in the aftermath of the crash even as he skimmed over the darker details. Oscar had reached over and squeezed his hand.
Zolf had paused to take a slightly shuddery breath and squeezed back, seemingly reluctant to give up the contact as he continued. Oscar stroked his thumb lightly over the back of Zolf’s hand and he shifted closer so that his arm pressed up against the dwarf, offering a solid reminder of his presence.
"Thank you for bringing me back, Zolf." He'd spoken softly into the silence. "Thank you for giving me the choice ." He wondered if he’d have been half as strong as to not demand Zolf's return to his side if their roles had been reversed.
Zolf shrugged, as his gaze rested on their joined hands. "Didn't do much of anything. The spell was all Sohra and her folk. As for the rest- well, wouldn't be right to force you back." He lapsed into silence before he added in a whisper, "Thank you for coming back, Oscar."
Oscar squeezed his hand once more. "I'm here as long as you need me."
Zolf swallowed hard, blinked for a moment and cast his gaze up at the ceiling. It was a long moment before he spoke again. "Gods, I'm tired, Oscar. I’m just so tired." His voice was roughened from overuse. Oscar suppressed as shiver at the words that again seemed strangely familiar. Had he said that? When?
"You should rest, Zolf. We’re safe here, and we have no pressing business." He gently disentangled their fingers with some reluctance and smiled reassuringly as Zolf looked at him with what might have been disappointment. "Let me get you some water for your throat." He passed the book over as he stood. "Here, why don't you read some more of Jennifer's adventures to help yourself unwind? Perhaps she'll make better decisions on this read-through?" He smirked at Zolf's disapproving look at the slight to his beloved tale. "I won't be long."
He’d barely been gone for five minutes but when he returned, Zolf was already asleep, sprawled out with the book on his chest. Oscar huffed a laugh to himself. "I should have known you'd be one to hog the bed."
He leaned over, carefully removing the book, marking the page and placing it to the side before settling himself into Zolf's chair from that morning and resolving to solve the puzzle that is Zolf Smith.
"Take some time. Think about it. You don't have to say anything."
He was sure this would be easier if he only knew what they'd talked about in his afterlife. Zolf had been curiously tight-lipped on the details and Oscar suspected he was worried about influencing him.
Here's what he knew . Zolf was the ally he needed when he had no one left to turn to, the person he could trust to have his back and do whatever was necessary for the mission, the un-looked-for and unexpected friend he could confide in. The man he'd come to rely on above all others.
The real question, he supposed, was whether he loved Zolf? He wasn’t really sure, yet. Oscar had lost too many people to let himself become attached easily and had spent a lot of effort trying to maintain distance even between himself and his allies. Nevertheless, it seemed that Zolf had crept in when he wasn't paying attention and carved out a space for himself at Oscar's side as if he'd belonged there all along.
He certainly cared about him. He knew that he'd fight for Zolf in the same way Zolf would fight for him. Knew that he was drawn to the cleric's presence. Knew that he enjoyed both the comfortable silence they could exist in together, as well as the rather heated verbal sparring they were capable of when they invariably disagreed over matters of no consequence (such as Wilde’s supposed lack of self care).
He'd be foolish to try and deny that there'd been something building between them since that very first headbutt. (And hadn’t that been quite the first impression? Oscar could admit he’d been pleasantly surprised and even a little impressed.) Whatever conversation they’d had felt like it had settled something inside him. He felt more grounded, filled with a deep calm that had otherwise eluded him for months.
Zolf said he needed him. Did Oscar need Zolf?
He looked down and found his traitorous fingers entangled with Zolf's own.
He thought he rather did. Well. That seemed like a good enough place to start, didn’t it?