#i had to pause after the first episode bc i was getting shoulder cramps from getting so tense 😭🤚

[shivvroys]

started watching dead ringers and i’ll be honest…i would let rachel weisz do a fucked up little medical experiment on me that is so unethical it feels biblical

[moiraineswife]

The Expanse - A Clayleb Fic

OKAY SO I ASKED FOR WHUMP PROMPTS AGES AGO and have only done this one bc it got Long bc that is what i Do BUT SOMEONE SENT ME ONE FOR SHAKY HANDS BUT THEN TUMBLR ATE IT and my draft -_- SO I CANNOT TAG YOU OR REPLY TO YOUR ASK BUT I DID THE THING AND I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!! 

Title: The Expanse

Summary: Prompt: “Another character spots their hands shaking, so they hide them.’ Set between episodes 36 and 37. After Caduceus’ near death experiences from drowning, he finds that he can’t sleep, and moves up on deck. He and Caleb have a conversation, and face their fears together. Caleb’s POV. 

Teaser: He considered him for a moment. It would be so easy to simply sit up here in his hidden nook, reading, ignoring what was happening. But as he continued to watch, Caduceus moved to the rail of the ship and gripped it, staring down into the ocean. He seemed to be shaking. A year ago Caleb had been alone. As Caduceus had been for some time before they had found him. He was not alone anymore. Nor was Caduceus. And he did not want to be again.Closing the book, Caleb made his decision. 

Link: AO3 

Caleb’s legs were cramping.

He was perched in the crow’s nest of The Mistake. The ship swayed gently at ease in the in the midst of the endless expanse of ocean while they took a rest. It was oddly soothing. The vast, gaping nothingness was surrounding him like an abyss. Blackness reigned on all sides. All that differentiated the sky from the rest of the looming darkness were the stars, twinkling down at him like the watchful eyes of the heavens. Cold, and remote, and dead.

When he’d been a child, after his grandmother had passed, his mother had taken him outside that night, after a day of endless quiet crying, and pointed up at a particularly bright star he’d never noticed before.

She’d told him it was grandma’s spirit, watching down on him from above. She was always there, mother said, but in the day it was too bright to see her. Only the night’s darkness could reveal her, but she would always be there, and that the night was nothing to fear.

The story had brought him so much comfort as a child. He no longer believed that story. He no longer wanted to. The thought of his family’s spirits staring down upon the waste of flesh and air he had become did not the faintest hint of warmth or comfort to him now.

Taking a breath, he sat down his book and began to work the knots of pain from his leg. As he did so, he caught movement on the deck below.

Curious, he sent one of his little globules of light floating down slightly closer to it. With a soft breath of relief, he realised that it was only Caduceus.

Caleb frowned slightly. It was late, well beyond the point they should all have been asleep. He certainly wished he was. But he accepted that sometimes sleep refused to claim him, and when it didn’t, he knew it was usually wise not to force it. There was a reason for it. And he had learned to listen.

He considered him for a moment. It would be so easy to simply sit up here in his hidden nook, reading, ignoring what was happening. But as he continued to watch, Caduceus moved to the rail of the ship and gripped it, staring down into the ocean. He seemed to be shaking.

A year ago Caleb had been alone. As Caduceus had been for some time before they had found him. He was not alone anymore. Nor was Caduceus. And he did not want to be again.

Closing the book, Caleb made his decision. Stowing it in one of his book holsters, he stood and stretched. Groaning at the sudden aches in his body, he gave himself a little shake, then began to descend from the crow’s nest.

Nott had initially refused to climb up into it. The height had given her a sense of horrible, dizzying vertigo and she had clung to Caleb the entire time. Caleb himself had never been bothered by them. He actually liked the feeling of being on high, watching everything unfolding below him while remaining aloof and unseen himself.

‘No-one ever looks up’ his father had told him when he’d been young. This had led to the unanticipated consequence of Caleb sitting on the roof of their small cottage for long periods of time.

He shook his head, banishing the memories. He didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t deserve to get any sort of pleasure or enjoyment out of the gentler parts of his past. He focused instead of where he was putting his hands and feet to get back down. It would be just like him to fall and break his neck in front of the traumatised Caduceus while he was trying to help him.

Once he had dropped safely down to the deck he padded towards the ship’s bow where Caducus was currently perched, staring out over the dark ocean. He paused, not sure how to interrupt, sure the firbolg knew he was there.

Clay didn’t turn, however, which was unusual in itself. Caleb had never known him to be anything other than entirely polite.

Glancing down, he realised the firbolg’s big, gentle hands were shaking.

Startled, he found himself blurting out, “Mister Clay, are you all right?”

Caduceus still didn’t turn to him, nor did he answer. He was quiet for so long, Caleb nearly gave up and returned to his book nest. Then, just as he was about to leave, Clay said, quietly, “I never imagined it would be so big.”

Caleb followed his gaze out over the seemingly endless ocean. Cautiously, he stepped up beside him, Caduceus didn’t protest, so he settled next to him and gazed out, too.

“The ocean?” he prompted, quietly. Caduceus could be rather deep at times, and it was impossible to know exactly what he was thinking at any given moment.

“Mm,” Clay agreed, nodding his big head slowly.

“I thought the same thing when I saw it for the first time,” he said, softly, feeling a pressure to break the silence for Caduceus’ sake, who he saw was still shaking. “I grew up in a little farming town in the middle of nowhere. We had nothing, nothing like this,” he gestured expansively beyond the ship.

Caduceus nodded slowly again. “There are a few sailors at home,” he said, Caleb had to take a moment to rationalise ‘home’ with ‘graveyard’ and remind himself that, for Caduceus, they were one and the same. “They talked about it, but...”

“But that cannot prepare you for seeing it,” Caleb murmured.

“Nope,” Clay agreed emphatically.

“I read books about it,” Caleb said. “I thought I understood what it would be like, but seeing it in person...”he shook his head.

He remembered his feelings on that day, as he stared out at the endless expanse of shimmering blue that stretched to, and beyond, the horizon. It had looked like possibility, and freedom, and the opportunity to escape everything forever. It had been beautiful and alien all at once, and he had found himself unable to stop staring at it. He still felt the same way looking at it now.

“I never realised how big the world was until I saw it,” Caduceus said, softly, almost taking more to himself than to Caleb.

Caleb felt a little smile tug at the corners of his mouth. Caduceus seemed so wise and deep most of the time, especially compared to their current band of merry fuck-ups, it was easy to forget how sheltered his life had been before.

“Ja,” Caleb said, softly, “There is a lot of it out there. And I imagine it feels even larger for someone like you, who has stayed in only one small part of it your entire life.”

“Yeah,” Caduceus said, nodding again, his eyes growing a little distant. “We had people come to us from all over, but it was only words, the places they had come from. I never realised, I never imagined...” he trailed off, unable to put his thoughts into words.

Caleb patted him slightly awkwardly on the shoulder, but he seemed to appreciate it.

A slight crease formed between his eyes as a sudden thought struck him and he said, “Did you want to see any of it?” he asked. “Before we found your temple and you felt we were a sign to go with, did you ever dream of travelling the world beyond your home?”

“No,” Caduceus said, with that simple, genuine honesty he had.

“I loved my home, my family, my tea,” he added, and Caleb smiled again. “I had no reason to leave.”

“I was desperate to leave my home when I was a boy,” Caleb confessed in a low voice. “It was small, and backwards. The world beyond it seemed infinite, and full of endless possibilities and potential for someone willing to seize it. I was determined to take it, to escape the lowly peasant place I grew up in and become something great. I was so sure there would be so many great things to discover. And there were,” he said.

His voice had now fallen so quiet it could be so easily snatched away by the sea breeze rippling past his coat, but he knew Caduceus’ sharp ears would catch every word.

“But there were a lot of terrible things, too, that I did not anticipate.”

I was one of them he thought darkly.

“There have been a few things so far that have been, ah, a little unkind towards me, I will say,” Caduceus said. “I don’t think I fully anticipated them, either.”

“Ja,” Caleb agreed, thinking of Caduceus’ two near drownings in as many days. “You have had a rough time of it so far,” he said, patting Caduceus once more, still awkwardly, on the shoulder. “Do you ever regret leaving home?” he asked hesitantly. “Coming with us?” he added, curious.

He felt none of them had really taken the time to get to know Caduceus. He would not go so far himself as to get invested. Not after the world had so recently and brutally reminded him why that was never a good idea.

Still, a few gentle questions couldn’t hurt.

Clay mulled this question over for a time, then said, “No. I might have, even though my home is dying and I want to help it. I thought I might have misread the Wildmother’s signs. Or maybe I had just imagined them because I was so desperate for one. I’ll admit I was ready to leave and go home at one point.”

“Why didn’t you?” Caleb asked, genuine interest making him blunter than he would have liked.

Clay didn’t seem bothered.

“Jester had a little talk with me,” he said,” Reminded me why we have faith, and what that means. That helped a lot.”

Caleb smiled again. “She is good at that,” he murmured softly, nodding his head.

“Yup,” Caduceus agreed.

“She is a good person. Strange, in her ways, as we all are, I suppose. But fundamentally she is a good person. Sometimes I wonder what she is doing with the likes of-“ he broke off, abruptly, catching himself.

Caduceus had a way of putting him at ease. Some natural magic of his made it easy to be comfortable around him, even let his guard down a little. The ocean was the same. They both exuded a strange, similar sense of freedom and escape. Their combination was a dangerous one.

Fool, he snapped at himself.

He had to be more careful. Clearing his throat too loudly, he averted his eyes from Clay’s mild gaze and said in an overly casual way, “So, Jester convinced you not to leave, but you still can’t sleep tonight? And you came up here this late instead?”

“Yup,” Caduceus replied, evenly, apparently not bothered by the brusque subject change and obvious shift of focus back onto himself. “For much the same reasons as you, I imagine.” His tone remained light, casual, and friendly, but there was an intensity to him all the same. “Kind of hard to relax and sleep when you’re always afraid.”

Caleb shivered.

“’Specially when the thing that’s making you afraid is sort of everywhere,” he said, blandly, but his eyes locked with Caleb’s as he said it.

Mouth suddenly very dry, Caleb forced himself not to react to the implied double-meaning and said, firmly, keeping the spotlight on Caduceus away from himself. “The ocean?” he prompted, firmly.

“I mean,” he said, with such an easy smile Caleb almost convinced himself he’d imagined the hidden meaning behind the words, “It has tried pretty hard to kill me a couple times now.”

“So it has,” Caleb agreed. He swallowed with difficulty, coughed, then said, “Well, my father always said that the best way to conquer fear was to face it.”

“He sounds like a very wise man,” Caduceus said, solemnly.

“He was,” Caleb replied, very quietly.

“Did you follow his advice?” Clay asked, jerking Caleb sharply back to the present.

In spite of the relative invasiveness of the question, Caleb found himself grateful for it, as it stopped his traitorous mind from wandering along the cliff edge of his sanity, teetering dangerously towards the abyss that always pulled at him.

He scrunched up his mouth without thinking and shook his head in a sharp, jerky fashion, “I would have,” he said, quietly, self-disgust lacing his words, “If I had been stronger.” He bowed his head, shaking it and muttering, “But I was a coward, so...” He shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably, trying to act as though this was of no significance to him.

He didn’t believe it himself. He highly doubted Caduceus would.

The firbolg watched him for a long time in silence, then, without warning, patted him gently on the top of the head.

This was so unexpected, Caleb started in surprise. The ghost of something that might have been a smile almost flitted across his face.

“You regret not doing it,” Clay said, finally, “That means you’ve grown since then. Maybe next time you have the chance, whenever that might be, you’ll be brave enough.” A soft, sweet smile lit up his face and he nodded, looking suddenly certain, “I think you will. Whatever it is, I think the next time you meet it, you will.”

Caleb shook his head bitterly, but didn’t speak.

“But even if you don’t, it doesn’t make you weak, and it doesn’t make you a coward,” Caduceus said, gently.

“I think that it does,” Caleb said, jerkily.

“Nah,” Caduceus said easily, shaking his head. “You’re still here,” he continued, “You didn’t give in to it,” he considered, then nodded, “You don’t give in to it. Don’t think you can be a coward in those circumstances. Now,” he said, patting Caleb on the shoulder again before he could say anything.

With two long strides he stepped off the slightly raised platform at the bow onto the deck, leaving a somewhat stunned Caleb standing where he had been watching him numbly.

Caduceus took a deep breath, then, without a word of warning, began to shed his armour and clothes.

Momentarily stupefied, Caleb just stared at him for a long second. Then, giving himself a shake, he stammered, “What are you doing?”

Caducues, now wearing nothing but his trousers and the loose white shirt he usually wore under his armour, pulling off his socks as he answered, smile gently at Caleb and said, simply, “Conquering.”

His hands, Caleb noted as he stood up and walked to the rail, were shaking again. But he clenched them into tight fists at his side to control them. Then, without another word, he stepped right to the edge, and jumped straight into the ocean below.

Caleb cursed in Zemnian and hurried to the rail himself.

“That is not what I meant, you-“ he hissed.

Staring down at the ring of bubbles marking the place where Caduceus had disappeared.

Silence.

The light sea breeze ran gentle fingers through his hair. The sails creaked softly as the wind stirred them. The ship swayed rhythmically like a cradle. Caduceus did not surface.

Caleb gripped the wooden rail so tightly it hurt. Frumpkin wound around his ankles, peering down, too, and meowing softly, as though in concern.

Still nothing.

Caleb was on the verge of running below to fetch Yasha, certain he would not be able to rescue Clay himself when with a lot of splashing, coughing, and expelling of water, he resurfaced.

Caleb breathed agin, as though he too had just vanished into the depths.

“It’s deep, you know,” Caduceus observed, matter-of-factly.

“I thought you had drowned,” Caleb hissed, realising he was still gripping the rail too tightly and relaxing somewhat.

“Nope,” Caduceus replied.

He was flapping and flailing so much that Caleb asked, suspiciously, “Caduceus, can you swim?”

“Apparently, yeah,” the firbolg replied with another of his easy smiles.

“Apparently?” Caleb repeated, feeling like an angry dragon about to spit fire at an oblivious cow. “You dived into the ocean with apparently?”

“Sure,” Caduceus replied.

Caleb’s eyes bulged with indignation.

“I mean,” Clay added, “I can sort of swim. We had a little pond back home. One of my sisters taught me a couple things.”

“A pond?” Caleb repeated, faintly. Then he snapped back into a more pragmatic mindset, “Come around this way,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose and walking a few feet to his left, “There is rigging, you can climb back on board before you do drown.”

“I can’t do that,” Caduceus said, frowning slightly, “Not yet, at least.”

“Why not?” Caleb demanded trying, and failing, to keep the impatience out of his voice.

“I’m still afraid,” Caduceus said simply.

“You-“ Caleb began in frustration, “This is not the time, not-“ he broke off, composing himself, then said, bluntly, “You’ve proved your point, this is not necessary.”

Somehow, even while half-drowning, Caduceus managed to give him a stern look, “Not everything that happens is targeted at you, you know,” he said.”

“I never implied that-“ he began, but Caduceus interrupted.

“I’m not doing this to prove a point to you, I’m-“ he broke off, head briefly submerged by a wave, stuffing salt water into his mouth and smothering his words. “I’m doing it,” he ploughed on valiantly, choking a little as he spit up the water, “Because I need to learn and I need to not be afraid of this. ‘Specially since we’ll probably be in it again tomorrow.”

Caleb was quite impressed he’d managed to get any of that out at all in between bouts of coughing and spluttering while half-drowning. Not to mention more than a little humbled.

“But does it have to be done now?” he pressed, reasonably.

“No time like the present,” Caduceus said, “Something my father taught me.”

“No, there are better times,” Caleb insisted, “Times you can see, for example.”

“No,” Caduceus said, firmly, flailing stubbornly, “I could be in her again tomorrow with no time to prepare or practice. Or I could be struck by lightning and never get the chance.” He was ducked beneath another wave and popped up again, adding with a splutter, “Or I could drown tonight.”

Caleb cursed again under his breath in Zemnian. He was learning many things about the firbolg this evening. Prominent was the fact he had his own particular brand of stubbornness that nothing could overcome.

“Give me a moment,” he called irritably over the side, “And try not to drown.”

“Will do,” floated up to him amid splashing.

Still grumbling under his breath, Caleb stripped himself down to shirt and trousers, too, shrugging his coat and book holsters to the deck.

“Frumpkin, guard,” he ordered the cat.

Frumpkin sat himself down ostentatiously on the coat pile and blinked at him.

That would do.

With that, Caleb too jumped into the ocean.

The water was freezing as he plunged into it, and it took all of his self-control not to scream as the ice cold burned at his skin. It had always seemed strange to him. For all the ravishing, devouring power of a flame, it could not burn like ice.

He surfaced and gasped, but forced himself to take deep breaths and not panic or seize up. Caleb cursed again and shook his head like a dog to get the hair out of his eyes.

“Nice of you to join me,” Caduceus said, smiling for some reason, “The water’s lovely.”

“It is not,” Caleb spat, teeth chattering, “It feels like death.”

“Yeah,” Cad agreed, “I just always wanted to say that.

Caleb sighed and moved towards the still flailing firbolg. “Come here,” he said, floating close enough to touch him. “Stop flapping, you are not a bird,” he instructed, “Besides, all that flailing about will only tire you, which means you will only drown faster.”

“You’re good at this,” Caduceus said, so mildly Caleb almost missed the sarcasm. Almost.

Huffing, Caleb chose to ignore the jibe, noticing that, in spite of his words, Caduceus wasn’t flapping about nearly as much as before, though he was now beginning to sink, and seemed distinctly dissatisfied by it.

Every time his head dipped beneath the waves he desperately flapped his arms as though hoping to take flight and escape the sea altogether.

“Calm down,” Caleb said, trying to make his voice low and soothing. “And lie back, flat, as though you were on a bed,” he said, echoing advice that had been given to him a long time ago.

Caduceus glanced at him, not entirely with suspicion, more a deep uncertainty in his eyes.

“Trust me,” Caleb coaxed, “You are safe, I will not let anything happen to you.”

It had been so long since he’d said those words and meant them. He hadn’t been safe for anyone to be around in what felt like several lifetimes. In truth, he still wasn’t, not entirely. But in the moment, he meant them. Caduceus seemed to know that and, nodding he did as he was told, though he still looked distinctly uncomfortable about it.

Caleb bobbed closer and slid a hand under him, but it was far more a psychological support for Clay than a physical one, the ocean was doing most of the work for him.

“There,” Caleb said quietly, feeling Clay relax a little, realising that he was all right. “You will float naturally in this position, especially in the ocean, due to the salt,” he explained in a low, measured voice. “If you are in difficulty in the water, stay calm, and allow yourself to float.”

“Huh,” Caduceus said. Caleb carefully removed his hand and the big firbolg flailed in sudden fright for a moment before settling and continuing to float. “Well that’s neat,” he muttered absently, and Caleb smiled again.

“Your body will follow your head in water,” he said, gently tilting Caduceus’ head up towards the star-spattered sky, “Look up towards the sun and you should be okay.”

“Thanks, Caleb,” Caduceus rumbled, sounding much calmer and happier already.

“You are welcome.”

“You know, this is actually kinda nice,” Clay said, his eyes closed now, his arms outstretched as though he really was flying.

“Ja, it is,” Caleb agreed flipping onto his back and mirroring Clay.

He gripped his wrist with one hand and the ship’s rigging with the other to stop them becoming separated and drifting away into the depths of the ocean. But apart from his tethers, he simply let himself be.

“It feels like...Like freedom,” he breathed softly, not sure why he was telling Caduceus, but going on anyway, “If I close my ees like this, it feels as though I am no longer here, as though the world no longer exists and I am alone in an endless soft sky where there is no pain. There is only me. And oblivion.”

“Yeah,” Caduceus murmured, and Caleb felt him shiver slightly. “I don’t know if I’d want to live in a world with just me and...Nothing,” Clay said, thoughtfully.

“It has its merits,” Caleb said, bitterly, without thinking.

“Well, sure,” Caduceus said, “But I would miss some things. My home. My work. My family. My tea. I think I might even miss all of you, too, and everything that’s happened. Some of it was pretty terrible, sure, but a lot of it was pretty great.”

Caleb relaxed as Caduceus lapsed into silence. He had been tensed, waiting for him to push him on what he’d just said, but to his relief, he didn’t say anything more, and allowed the silence to stretch into a comfortable moment of peace between them.

After a long time of drifting together in the darkness, however, Clay said, “Who taught you all this? Fjord?”

Caleb huffed a soft laugh at that. “No, he said, “A good guess, but no, it was not Fjord. It was my mother, actually.” In spite of himself, he smiled, still able to hear her cool, measured voice instructing him. “She grew up in a coastal shipping town, and she insisted that I know how to swim properly. She said it may come in useful for me some day.” His mouth twisted into a slight smile at the thought. “I doubt she had all this in mind when she was teaching me.”

“She was right, though,” Caduceus observed, lightly.

“She was,” Caleb murmured quietly. “About so many things.”

He wished he could tell her that.

Caduceus once again, to his relief, allowed silence to blossom between them. It went unbroken so long that something like peace settled over Caleb like a warm blanket on a cold, winter night. He felt he could almost have drifted into sleep at last.

He no longer felt the frigid sting of the ocean. He felt calm, and quiet, and good.

Then he felt Caduceus jostling him.

“Come on,” he said in a low voice.

Caleb made an irritable noise halfway between a groan and a growl.

“We need to get out and dry off, “Clay coaxed, more insistently.

Caleb di not want to open his eyes. He did not want the world and all its horrors to be real once more. He wanted to linger in this sweet, dreamlike oblivion just a little longer.

“Caleb,” Caduceus said, sounding urgent now, “The water’s too cold, come on, we need to heat you up.”

Reluctantly, Caleb let his eyes flutter open. The world and all his pain flooded back. He reminded himself that he deserved it.

“Okay,” he mumbled, a little thickly.

He felt heavy, and sluggish, and Caduceus had to help him as they made their way back to the ship and climbed back on board. Now that he was out of the water he realised just how cold he was, shivering violently and uncontrollably as he spilled onto the deck in a heap.

Frumpkin trotted over, meowing and nuzzling him in concern.

“Here,” cad said, gently draping Caleb’s dry coat around him and picking up Caleb’s books from the deck. “It’s okay, I’ll look after him,” he told Frumpkin reassuringly. Then, to Caleb, he said softly, “Come on,” he said, leading him firmly below decks and into his cabin.

A fragrant aroma filled it from all the different teas and spices he had, but it was not unpleasant. Caduceus steered him towards the bed and nudged him down onto it, ignoring his vague, slightly slurred protests about soaking his blankets.

Then he leaned over him and cast a spell on the metal bed frame. At once, it glowed red hot. Caleb sighed and leaned into the warmth like a plant stretching towards the sun’s light.

“Careful, not too close,” Caduceus said, pausing in what he was doing to tug Caleb gently away from the metal.

A moment later, or so it seemed to him, Caleb had a steaming cup of tea in his hands. “There we go,” Caduceus said soothingly, wrapping another blanket around Caleb’s shoulders.

The fussing felt unnecessary, and he wanted to say so, but was feeling very lethargic and sleepy all of a sudden, and couldn’t summon the energy to do so.

“Sorry about that,” Clay said, sitting down next to Caleb with a mug of tea of his own. “Forgot you couldn’t last in the cold quite so well. No fur.” Caleb nodded vaguely in agreement, though this wasn’t making much sense to him at the moment. “You should be fine now, though,” he reassured him, patting Caleb gently on the shoulder.

Frumpkin jumped lightly onto the bed, purring loudly, and nuzzled closer to Caleb. Clay ran a big, gentle hand along his back and his purring grew louder.

Caleb nodded vaguely again, absently patting Frumpkin on the top of the head.

Some distant part of his brain was screaming at him to be more wary, to keep his wits about him. But it was very difficult to feel that way around Caduceus. At last, when he felt able to speak again he said, “You are a very good person, Mister Clay.”

The firbolg smiled gently and said, “Thank you. So are you, Mister Caleb.”

Caleb shook his head vigorously, “no,” he protested,” I am a piece of shit.”

“Well,” Clay said, apparently considering this, “Shit is technically pretty useful.” Caleb blinked at him, wondering if he was starting to hallucinate. “Great fertiliser,” he added, matter-of-factly.

Caleb stared at him for a long moment. Then he started to laugh, only a little hysterical. He only stepped when he ached too much to draw in the breath required to continue.

“I think I am going to like you, Mister Clay,” he said, finally.

“You don’t already?” Caduceus said with a half smile. Caleb replied with a crooked smile but said nothing.

“I think,” he said, hoarsely, feeling suddenly lightheaded and heavy all at once, “I am going to sleep now.”

He registered, dimly, that he was still in Caduceus’ cabin in Caduceus’ bed, and should move to his own. But his body felt as though his bones had turned to lead, and he was slumping sideways onto the pillows.

“That’s fine,” Caduceus said, a smile in his voice.

That was the last thing Caleb heard before sinking, finally, into his temporary oblivion.