Work Text:
"You can't sleep either, can you?" Jane asked, standing in the doorway to Cesare's room.
He nodded, relieved to see her there. He wasn't sure how he was going to make it through the night alone after the events of the previous evening, and welcomed her in with a dip of his head. Caligari had not only resumed his position as head of the Holstenwall asylum; he also knew Cesare was hiding at the Olsen manor. When he tried to infiltrate it at a dinner party, Jane and Cesare had just barely managed to fend him off, but both knew he wouldn't stay away for long. After all, he was the sort to mark anyone who so much as inconvenienced him for death; they didn't want to think about what he'd do to those who had managed to escape his clutches, had he the chance.
"Bad... dream," Cesare muttered, sitting on his haunches atop his bed. "Back... with him."
"I had a bad dream about him, too," Jane said, shuddering. "In it, I had to marry him. I don't think I could imagine anything worse."
"Box," Cesare hissed.
"You're right. It must have been horrible for you, living with him for so long and doing whatever he told you. I could barely stand a few hours with him, let alone however long you were there."
Cesare was silent. She was right, he realized; it was horrible- but he couldn't remember thinking it was horrible at all, not until now. Sometimes, he could faintly remember days that made him happy- but now, he knew those were probably the worst days of all, because they were what made it hardest to leave, even more than the threat of the cane on his back, or the hands around his throat, or the dark, cold confines of the box.
"He... hurt me," he whispered. "Hurt... you. I... did not... fight back."
"I know how that feels," she said. "Don't feel too bad; it can be hard to stand up for yourself, especially against the people who taught you everything you know. I knocked him out with his own cane because he was going to take you away, but I could never talk back to my own parents, even though they're nowhere near as horrible as him."
Cesare bowed his head to thank her, and she smoothed his hair. He blinked in appreciation of the gesture, although he feared a day would come soon in which his head would be touched in a far less pleasant way.
"Will... he... come... back?" he asked.
"I hope not. Maybe we can ask Francis for help; I know he'll believe us if we tell him what happened. He's very persuasive, too; he can help get people on our side. Besides, he'll do whatever it takes to protect me."
Cesare perked up. Although he knew Francis didn't like him at all, he sounded like the perfect person to ask for help- brash, inquisitive, and forceful, he possessed none of Jane's timidity or Cesare's lack of stamina. Caligari wouldn't stand a chance against him, Cesare thought. But while he didn't know it at the time, he couldn't be more wrong.
But for now, the thought put him at ease, and he sighed, closing his eyes. Everything would be taken care of, he thought. They'd be safe at last. Had he known what was actually happening that night, as he sat quietly beside Jane, he wouldn't have felt at ease at all, but for now, he felt a long-awaited sense of relief wash over him, as if everything was really going to be okay.