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"Here, keep this on, okay? And keep quiet. Stay close to me."
Jane handed Cesare one of her cloaks, helping him pull the hood over his head. It was far too short on him, especially the sleeves, but as long as his face was obscured, it would have to do.
"I'll explain everything to Francis, and you can keep watch. Now that he knows you're with me, I have a feeling we might be followed."
Cesare nodded, although he didn't like the idea of watching for Caligari. He thought about the many times he opened his eyes after being asleep for a long time, only to see the yellowed teeth and piggish eyes staring back at him, or the greasy hands gripping his body until he went limp all over again. Just seeing him was bad enough, but actively watching for him?
Still, he owed Jane, both for saving him the previous night and for giving him his room, so he determined he'd do it. Maybe they'd get lucky, he reasoned, and Caligari would never appear. He didn't know it at the time, but by the time they got to Francis’ house, Caligari would be nowhere to be seen- except in the circumstances they were to find themselves in, this could hardly be considered a fortunate thing at all.
Cesare was grateful for the hood over his eyes, as not only did it help avert attention, they were out during the day, when he was hardly ever awake. He'd long grown accustomed to the night, and while the sun hurt his sensitive eyes, the only times he was out in daylight in the past was at the sideshow- and the sun, combined with the noise and the crowds of people outside, all gave him an odd feeling of sickening anticipation. He kept his head low, creeping along after Jane and staying close to the walls whenever he could.
As terrified as he was that someone would recognize him, however, it was Jane who attracted the most attention. When she passed, heads turned, and Cesare could hear faint whispering. He paused, listening to hear a conversation taking place behind them that caught his attention. He crept into an alleyway so he could hear it better, making sure to keep himself hidden.
"That's the Olsens' girl, isn't it?" someone said. "She's awful pretty."
"Yes," another man agreed, "but since this morning, people have been saying there's something wrong with her."
"Of course there's something wrong with her," the first man said. "She's got her pick from all of us, but they say she's terribly cold. Maybe I can warm her up a bit!" He laughed, as if he told a joke that was actually funny.
Cesare stiffened. He didn't know what that meant, but he was sure it couldn't be good.
"I wouldn't be so sure about that," the second man said. "I heard she's gone mad. A guest at her parents' dinner party the other night said she attacked him, when all he'd done was be polite to her!"
Cesare growled, knowing this was very much not true. He'd been there, and while Jane had indeed struck Caligari, it was only after he'd displayed his vilest, most horrendous, most abominable behavior that she'd done so- and to save Cesare’s life, no less.
"If that's the case, then, a bit of time in the asylum should do her good," the man said. "I have a cousin whose wife was sent there. The doctors there must do wonders! She had a spitfire temper, but when she came back, she was sweet and quiet as a lamb. I bet once the Olsen girl is treated, she'll be the one on her knees begging any of us to sweep her off her feet!"
That must be his plan, Cesare thought, watching in rage and disbelief. The men laughed as they walked off. He wanted to strangle them, but Jane had told him to stay quiet, so he stood there silently, his heart pounding as he began to piece everything together. Caligari wanted to convince everyone Jane needed to go to the asylum- where he was in charge. But why? Cesare yawned, suddenly hit with a wave of drowsiness as he stumbled towards Jane, struggling to keep his eyes open as his mind raced as fast as it could.
"Tell you... some...thing..." he groaned, swaying dizzily.
"What is it?" she asked. "We're almost to Francis' house; can it wait?"
He shook his head, his vision growing blurry.
"Here, sit down." She helped him to the ground, and he sat, his back against the wall and his head drooping down. It was hot out, and the cloak overtop his black leotard only made him feel more fatigued. "We can get you water when we're there. You've been walking a lot; maybe you need to rest."
He couldn't rest, not when they were in danger. But he felt far too weak to stand. "Plan," he managed to say, before slouching against the wall in a faint.
She gasped, brushing a hand against his forehead and finding it was burning. As light as he was, she wasn't strong enough to carry him by herself, let alone all that way. She looked up, noticing a woman looking at her, and waved.
"Excuse me," she called. "My friend is unconscious; could you help me-"
The woman shook her head frantically, backing away.
That's strange, Jane thought. Usually, people are always willing to help me. "It's Jane Olsen," she said. "My friend is unconscious; I need someone to help me carry-" she looked down, noting that Cesare was wearing the frilly women's cloak she had leant him. "-her? This is an emergency; I can pay you-"
"No sum you can offer will make me into an accomplice!" the woman said.
Accomplice? Jane thought, puzzled. Accomplice to what?
“Please,” she said. “My friend is overheated and exhausted; I just want to get him- I mean, her, to safety.”
“Nice try,” the woman answered. “That’s a body you’re trying to hide, isn’t it?”
“No! He- I mean, she’s alive, but she could be in danger if I don’t get her inside soon.” She took out a silk purse, thrusting it into the woman’s hands. “Here; take it all.”
“I already told you-”
“Look inside.”
The woman opened the purse, and her eyes widened. “Fine,” she said. “I promise I won’t tell anyone; where do you want the stiff again?”
“I told you, she’s not dead. That small house over there-”
“The triangular one that looks like it’s collapsing in on itself?”
All the houses on the street were triangular and looked like they were collapsing in on themselves, but Jane didn’t have time to argue. “Yes,” she said, picking up Cesare under his arms. “You take his- I mean, her legs.”
The woman picked up Cesare’s legs. “My, your friend is all skin and bones. Are you sure she’s not a corpse?”
“Yes, I’m sure! Now let’s go.”
They lifted Cesare up together, and began carrying him towards Francis’ house. Jane watched him carefully; she couldn’t see much under the hood, but his face looked even paler than usual. Despite the help, he was heavy in her arms, and twice she thought she’d drop him, but managed to hold on, even when she was starting to ache. She couldn’t help but think it was strange that she was carrying him, after the disastrous events of the terrible night that neither of them liked to think about, but haunted them nonetheless. Francis will set this all right, she thought, if anything, to distract herself. He’ll know exactly what to do.
Once they reached Francis’ doorstep, they set Cesare down. Jane thanked the woman, then knocked on the door. To her surprise, it swung open; it hadn’t been closed at all.
That’s unlike him, she thought, unless he’s been distracted with his work. I wonder what he’s up to; maybe he already knows about Caligari. And she was right, but not in the way she hoped.
As Jane stepped into Francis’ house, using the last of her strength to drag a limp Cesare behind her, she was shocked to see the place completely ransacked. Bookshelves were broken, with paper littering the floor, the windows were shattered, and drawers appeared to have been flung open, their contents scattered everywhere. What’s happened? she thought, although she had a feeling she already knew.
“Francis?” she called, but didn’t get an answer.
“Francis, where are you?” Still no reply.
Tears welling up in her eyes, she hauled Cesare to the couch, then collapsed beside him and cried. She’d been counting on Francis, but with him gone, and with nobody else in town to listen to her, there was only Cesare, who was splayed out unconscious beside her. She removed the cloak from his shoulders, wondering what to do next. Plan, he had said. What did that mean? She wished she had a plan of her own, but it seemed impossible to think of anything when Francis was missing. Neither she nor Cesare were the right kinds of people to go after Caligari- all she knew was how to be polite and elegant, and Cesare hardly knew much at all, other than what he had been trying to unlearn. They weren’t supposed to plan or fight back; they were there to be graceful and obedient and afraid. But we can’t be afraid anymore, she thought, not when Francis was gone and Caligari delighted in tormenting them. She dried her eyes, and looked over to see Cesare stirring, coughing as his eyelids slowly lifted.
“You’re okay!” she gasped, helping him sit up. “Here; be careful.”
He looked around groggily at their ruined surroundings. “Where… are… we?”
“We’re at Francis’ house,” Jane said. “He’s not here, and the house was like this when we entered. I don’t know what’s happened, but I know it’s not good.”
Cesare growled, snapping his teeth. He recognized this sort of destruction, and could vividly remember waking up to seeing the caravan in which he used to be kept in such a state.
“Wait here,” Jane said, getting up. A moment later, she returned with two glasses of water, and handed one to him. He drank, his hands shaking as he drained the glass.
“Before you passed out,” she said, “you said something about a plan. What did you mean?”
Cesare’s eyes grew even wider, and he twitched, scratching his fingernails into the couch. “Know… his plan,” he whispered, looking around at the broken windows to make sure they weren’t being watched.
“Caligari’s? What is it?”
Cesare closed his eyes and furrowed his brow, wishing he had all the right words to relay what he’d heard in the street. “He... told people… you-” here, he made a downward striking motion with his arms. “That you… must go-” he winced, clutching himself tightly- “to… asylum.”
“What?” she gasped.
“Lies,” Cesare hissed, grabbing at his throat. “He… lies. Always.”
“So, you’re saying he lied to people about why I attacked him,” she said slowly, “so that they’d think I’d need to be taken to the asylum? How’d you find that out?”
“People… talking,” he answered, his eyes still closed.
She remembered the woman’s reaction when she’d asked for help. That’s what she probably meant by accomplices, she realized. She must have thought I’d gone mad and started killing people! The notion was so absurd, she would have laughed if the circumstances weren’t so dire.
“Thank you, Cesare; you were a big help,” she said. “Now that we know what he’s up to, maybe we can come up with a plan of our own.”
Cesare blinked, unused to being complimented.
“Now, let’s think about this. What would Francis do?” she asked. Cesare shrugged.
“He’d try to look for evidence and ask questions. Like… how did any of this happen? Why would this place be destroyed?” Jane wondered, and turned to the ruined bookshelf. “Wait. Can you help me find something?”
Cesare nodded, getting up and heading over to her.
“That journal. The one Francis took from the asylum- you remember what it looks like, right? Do you think you could find it?”
Cesare didn’t want to think about that journal ever again, but if it could help them somehow, he’d be willing to try. He looked down at the pile of books on the floor, beginning to sort through them. There were a lot, in many different colors and sizes, but he was looking for a small, black journal that was worn around the edges. Jane went to help him, and before long, they had a pile of books on the floor- and none of them matched that description.
“Gone,” Cesare muttered.
“You’re right. Which means he must have been looking for it. And if he accused Francis of stealing it…” Jane didn’t finish the thought; both of them knew exactly what sort of conclusion she had come to. “I’ve already lost one friend,” she said quietly. Cesare reached for her hand, and she took his.
“He… will not-” Cesare made a stabbing motion. “Needs… me.”
Jane looked up. “I hope you’re right. Maybe that means Francis is okay… or at least, he’s unharmed. Do you think he’s somehow hidden him somewhere?”
Cesare clutched his hair, groaning, and Jane winced, having a dreadful feeling that she suspected what he was thinking.
“Asylum,” Cesare whispered, fear piercing the depths of his luminous eyes.