#aftermath of captivity

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A week later and it still doesn't feel real.

The two humans tell Daero that he is safe and sound. That there will continue to be food and water, that their hands won't strike him. Their touches are soft, their voices quiet. They smell like citrus and cinnamon.

But still Daero flinches when either one enters the room. He still expects to wake in that damp dungeon, chained, beaten and starved.

Nightmares plague him, disrupting his much needed rest. On the worst nights, like tonight, his cries wake the humans and they are quickly by his side.

He is just awake enough to hear and feel them. One soothes him with kind words while wiping his tears away. The other holds a spoonful of pain medicine to his lips until he drinks. Then they sit on either side of him and wait.

Too good, they lately noticed. Too good that it was starting to make Medic worried. But just like every other day, Medic knocked the infirmary door in exactly same time, before opening it fully. Youngest was asleep in the hospital bed - Medic had said Leader that it was unnecessary, but Leader  brought one anyway - and at last drops of their IV.

"An hour," Leader muttered. At this point it felt like a ritual. So, without a word, Medic moved and changed Youngest's IV to antibiotics as Leader deserted the room silently. Probably to sleep.

Good, Medic thought. Leader needed it.

Medic made their way to the armchair, only to see Leader's office keys on it. For a moment, they considered giving it back. They respected privacy, but they were also curious. For the last one month and a half, all Leader did was looking for Youngest, caring for Youngest or staying in their office. The first two was understandable, but the third...

Now Medic could learn whatever Leader was doing in their office.

Medic hesitated. They shouldn’t invade Leader’s privacy—Leader had done nothing to earn suspicion, at all. And Leader never broke anyone's boundries, so Medic doing it to them was just wrong. But something had been gnawing at the back of Medic’s mind for weeks now, something beyond the usual worry for Youngest. Leader’s behavior, so single-minded, so intense, felt wrong. So wrong for someone almost obsessed with making the future better. And if there was something in that office that could explain it...

Steeling themselves, Medic turned and walked down the hall to Leader’s office. The key slid into the lock with an ease that almost felt too simple. "Where's Leader?" Medic shouted. Leader's room was wide open and Leader wasn't there.

"Went for a quick walk," Right Hand shouted back.

Medic took a deep breath. "Okay," they muttered. With a simple twist, the door creaked open. Medic slipped inside, shutting it quietly behind them slowly. The room was dim, the only light filtering through the half-drawn blinds, casting long shadows across the walls. At first glance, it looked like any other office—neat, organized, professional. Just like how Leader liked to keep everything. Medic opened the lights.

Notes. Dozens of them, pinned to a board on the wall, scattered across the desk, and even taped to the edges of the bookshelves, almost creating a wallpaper. Most were in Leader’s precise handwriting, detailing locations, names, dates, and other pieces of information that, together, painted a picture out of a detective's office. Medic’s gaze was drawn to a map on the wall, marked with pins and red string connecting various points. They moved closer, recognizing the locations as places where incidents had occurred—break-ins, disappearances, attacks. All related to Youngest.

Their heart pounded as they picked up a file from the desk. It had a picture, the person's face partially obscured, but there was no mistaking who it was. Medic had seen that face around Whumper—one of the underlings of them. The person had been found dead two weeks ago, the cause still under investigation. There were detailed reports about them, autopsies, locations, biographies... informations that Medic doubted Leader had the authority to kno let alone storing.

They set the file down, their hands trembling slightly. Leader had been gathering evidence, but it wasn’t just about finding Youngest. It was about something more.

Another photo on the desk caught their eye. Medic took it, revealing more photos, more notes underneath. Some were crossed out, others highlighted. A list of names—people connected to the kidnapping—each one with a note beside it: confirmed dead, under surveillance, possible lead.

Some of these people were no longer a threat because they were dead. Was it coincidence, or had Leader...?

The sound of footsteps in the hallway snapped Medic out of their thoughts. They hurriedly closed the folder and placed thr picture back on the desk, glancing around to make sure everything was as they’d found it. The door clicked shut just as the office door opened.

Leader stepped inside, looking tired but alert. They froze for a moment, eyes narrowing as they stared in the sight of Medic standing in their office.

“What are you doing here?” Leader’s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, a warning.

Medic tried to keep their expression neutral, forcing a casual shrug qs if they weren’t digging through the room for the last ten minutes. “You left your keys on the chair. Thought I’d drop them off.”

Leader’s gaze flicked to the keys in Medic’s hand, then back to their face. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, slowly, Leader crossed the room, taking the keys with a nod.

“Thank you,” they said, their tone polite but distant. “Please wait for my return next time.”

Medic nodded, feeling the tension in the air like a physical weight. They turned to leave, but couldn’t help one last glance at the desk, at the folder now lying innocently on the surface.

Leader didn’t miss the look. “Is there something else?”

“No,” Medic replied quickly, shaking their head. “Just... take care of yourself, okay? You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

Leader’s expression relaxed, a smile so soft and tender taking over. “Don't worry. Byt you should get some rest too.”

How could Medic be suspicious of them when all Leader did was worrying and caring for the team? Shoving the guilt down, they forced a smile and left the office.

-•-

Later that day, Medic was in the break room when the news broke. The television mounted on the wall buzzed with static before the anchor’s voice cut in, somber and urgent.

“We interrupt this program with breaking news. Henchman, a key figure in the recent string of criminal activities linked to the late terrorist Whumper, was found dead earlier this evening. Authorities are investigating, but details remain scarce at this time.”

Medic’s blood ran cold. Henchman—another name on Leader’s list. Dead. Just like the others.

They stood frozen, the room spinning around them. The timeline didn’t add up. Leader couldn’t have done it—they had only left the office for ten minutes, not enough time to cross the city and back. But the coincidences were too many, too pointed.

When Medic next saw Leader, they couldn’t help but study their face, searching for anything. But Leader looked even more drained than the last time, still trying to hold it together desperately. When Medic mentioned the news, Leader’s response was calm, almost indifferent.

“Tragic, but not unexpected,” Leader muttered, shrugging slightly. They weren’t even focused— they looked like they could just collapse and take a twenty four hour nap. “Agency was after them. It was only a matter of time.”

Medic nodded slowly, but the uneasy feeling in their gut only grew. There was something, something that was beyond their understanding. But as Leader walked away, Medic knew one thing for certain— Leader was doing something wrong. It was either their sleeping habits or the team had a huge problem.

-•-

Ed still seemed groggy, but nodded. <<Where are we going?>>

Castor tried to keep his voice calm, to pretend he knew the answer. <<This was the safest plane I could think of. I think the only place we can go from here is back home. The material plane. We don’t have to go back in the same place we left from.>>

*******

Breathe, Ed thought, Keep breathing. Stay calm.

<<Where on the material plane?>> he asked.

It was only a moment later, as Castor averted his eyes, that Ed realized there wasn’t an answer. Castor didn’t know. He felt stupid. Why should he have expected anything else?

This could be good. It could mean he could go home. Or it could mean nothing. Anything.

He was less confused now than he’d been before, when Castor came for him. He was less frightened. If Castor meant to torture him - well, there wasn’t much point even arguing against it. He didn’t. He wouldn’t. He was just an idiot. Impulsive.

Ed’s mind might as well have been Castor’s, or maybe the other way around, but either way, it felt empty. Hollow.

<<I thought I’d let you decide,>> Castor answered quietly. <<I - I thought if one of us knew how to get you home, it would be you. But not ->> Castor seemed to lose the words, but while Ed’s mind (both of their minds?) felt empty, his chest didn’t.

<<You’re afraid, too,>> Ed said, <<Afraid I’ll betray you.>>

The sorrow wracking his chest was probably his own. Did Castor think he didn’t know how much he owed him?

Castor shook his head. <<I was. But then I found out about ->> he waved at Ed’s thigh, where the old burn scars were. <<I might deserve it. Just - I’m not sure I’m as strong as you.>>

Ed shook his head as if that would be a distraction, as if the conversation they were having had anything to do with words. He pushed hard on their connection, trying to force himself into Castor’s mind enough to just stop talking at all.

<<You’re lying.>>

<<Not about that last part,>> Castor said, not bothering to pretend Ed was wrong, but not letting him any farther in, either.

<<You’ve been in my head as much as I’ve been in yours,>> Ed snapped, backing off, <<You know I can’t. Not - like that.>>

Now he sounded like Castor, last night. “Like that.” What did that even mean? He snorted through his nose. <<I’m afraid I’ll choose wrong.>> Ed continued, his thoughts firm. <<But before that, I was afraid you would, so I guess it doesn’t matter.>>

There was a lot he didn’t say, but his emotions were still all stirred up. He was afraid, but not as much as he was tired. Tired to his soul. Tired like crying, back when he was a child, the kind of crying after dark that grown-ups said was fear of the dark, as if they couldn’t remember what it was to just be little, and worn down, and out of reserves. It might have been sadness, but he couldn’t be sure even of that.

His mind was empty. Echoing. Maybe it was just early. Maybe he wasn’t awake yet. Maybe he was dying, now that he didn’t have to fight so hard. So hard for what? How could he have slept so well and still feel so useless, so half asleep? It wasn’t even the pain, really. It was just - something. Something like the days before, in the basement. He couldn’t remember if the feeling had been before he told or after. He couldn’t remember when it was there and when it wasn’t.

His heart answered for him, his emotions still swirling and his mind still empty. <<We’ll find my sister,>> he said, <<The temple. They can’t ->> The words escaped him. <<They’re the temple,>> he concluded.

He could feel Castor wanting to ask which temple, or maybe which god. But then he didn’t. He just agreed.

********

Castor’s heart raced as he and Ed activated the amulet. They shouldn’t be able to do it together, not even with it pressed between their hands like this, and he knew as the world spun around them that whatever it meant to do this together was something he couldn’t come back from.

Castor felt the amulet’s magic drawing on his own attention and focus, but the destination was in Ed’s head, clear as day, a place as much felt as seen, and then they were tumbling into it, landing on the ground surrounded by wheat, both of them on their hands and knees.

Ed cried out in pain, but it wasn’t a new injury, just the jostling of their landing. Castor knew he shouldn’t know that without checking. He cursed lightly under his breath.

His patron’s voice was suddenly present, reconnecting faster and stronger now that Castor was back on the plane where he belonged. <<Ssssssomeone meddlessssss.>>

It was a relief to be closer to the source of his magic, but only a little bit.

<<At least the fields are still here.>> Ed said into Castor’s mind, as if he couldn’t hear Castor’s master here. That was - something, at least.

<<Wwwe will not ttttalk to him right nnnnnow,>> his patron informed him. <<He’sssss the onnnne who - invitessss Her.>>

<<Her?>> he asked.

<<Godddddddess,>> his master commented in distaste as he drew closer, giving Castor the old familiar feeling of something not-quite-him inhabiting the space behind one eye.

Whispering out loud to try to keep the conversations straight, he turned to Ed. “Who did you say we were going to a temple of?”

Ed laughed, without bitterness for the first time, but for only a moment before everything else covered the laughter over, dampening it to nothing. “Oh,” he said, “I forgot about talking. Chauntea. She’s-”

Castor nodded. “Agriculture.”

“Agriculture,” Ed repeated, but then kept going. “Life. Crops. New growth. Control. I dunno. Lots of stuff. Nature but - in rows.”

<<Sssshe does not thhhhhink she issssss the law,>> his patron supplied, sounding skeptical. <<She anddddd her kkkind never do. Exccccept the onesssss who say it.>>

<<Nature in rows,>> Castor answered thoughtfully.

<<Mmmmmeddling.>> his patron concluded.

“I, um-” Castor said to Ed, “Not that it matters, but when you said they were the temple, are you - I mean - Do you have -” He blew out through his lips, struggling for the words. “Are you. You know. Connected?”

“My sister is, uh - a Sister. There. Here. At the temple. But they’ll - I mean, they’re clerics. And she’d never hurt someone who helped me. So it’s - you’ll be safe either way. Both ways.”

<<Ttttttell her ttttttttto leave.>>

“And that’s your only connection?” Castor pressed. “You’re not - not connected yourself?”

Ed’s mind moved in toward his, and Castor’s patron twitched backward in his head, startled. <<Chhhheating.>>

Castor felt trapped, like he was trapped between both other minds.

“What about your magic?” he blurted, hoping if he were a little more clear, Ed would back off.

“Oh,” Ed said, retreating. Castor breathed more easily, relaxing. “No, that’s - I mean. It was only a couple of cantrips.”

Castor wrinkled his nose skeptically. “That thing you did with Amara in the castle was definitely a spell spell.”

Ed snorted. “Ok, but that’s one spell. It’s not like it’s anything. I just learned a little from my sister. And if you tell anybody I’ll kill you.”

The last part had no venom, like he said it out of habit and didn’t mean it.

“Well, did you tell Chauntea that?” Castor asked, B”ecause my patron says - uh.”

His patron hissed in disapproval in his head.

“My patron suggested otherwise,” he finished, hoping Ed hadn’t noticed him wince at his patron’s displeasure.

All of a sudden, a wall went up between them, completely. He didn’t know what was in Ed’s head, at all. He didn’t like it.

<<Stop that, I’m trying to listen to him,>> he said to his patron, <<You said he was a gift.>>

<<I diddddd not.>> the voice replied. But then Ed was there again, on the edge of Castor’s senses, and where before Ed’s presence had felt strangely light, a little bit of hope mixed in with the usual mess, now it was empty again, ringing with it, and he couldn’t tell why Ed’s feelings had gone hollow.

<<Telllllll him to mmmmake her llllllleave us alone.>>

Castor couldn’t, and he didn’t know why. Instead he pushed his thoughts outward, trying to figure out prayer on his own. <<Miss Chauntea - could you give us some space? I’ll - I’ll bring Ed to you like he wants. Or your temple.>>

He didn’t get an answer, not that he could hear like he could his patron, but a gentle breeze did blow over the two of them. Then something was gone that had been in the air around them, something he hadn’t even realized was there, and Ed’s emptiness rang even louder.

<That’ssssss not what Iiiiiii meant.>>

<<Sorry. I’ll, uh - I can check in later? Take him to the temple and then sneak out?>>

It was strange to hear a disembodied voice sigh, no matter how many times it happened.

<<Verrrrry well. But rememmmmmber whose conttttract you signed.>>

Castor nodded, then realized it probably looked odd to Ed, since the knight hadn’t been able to hear the other conversation going on.

He looked over at Ed and the man was looking down and away, studying his own knees.

Well, that was - something. Castor had given up trying to keep his head above water. If all of this was a little beyond him, he could live with that.