Chapter Text
Kadoc woke not in the bed for himself at the Wandering Sea, but with his face pressed against stone. His eyes blink open, his vision registering as a static filled blur. He made an attempt to lift his head, quickly finding out that was a mistake as a horrible pounding thumped against his left temple, and set his head down on his arm.
The scene before him came in patches. Even as the phosphenes clouding the edges of his eyes faded, his sight didn’t get much better. Wherever he was it was incredibly dark.
Is this…
His fingers brushed against the gritty stone ground, it pressed against his ribs where he laid on his stomach. Cold, yet he didn't feel the chill.
A meter ahead from where he lay was a row of metal bars running floor to ceiling. The only light came from beyond the bars, a flaming torch mounted to the right-side wall, flame flickering almost tauntingly.
…a jail cell?
"Are you awake?"
It's been a while since he's felt a jolt of fear, and the new voice from behind him certainly triggered it - he wasn't alone. Kadoc turns his head to look behind him; the back corner of the room, not too far from where he laid.
His cellmate was sitting cross-legged on a rusty bare bedframe. They were dressed in what he bet was another one of their Mystic Codes; a neat white button up blouse and light brown slacks. They look… fine. In the way that nothing looked like it would indicate a fight. Horribly untouched.
[Name] lifts their hand in a greeting. "Hi." The edge of their smile falters fractionally upon meeting his gaze.
Kadoc swallows back the building nausea and pushes himself up on his palms. There was no way in hell he'd let them see him lying on the ground like this. A thick fabric fell off his back as he rose up, a blanket maybe — leaving him with the chill of the tiny room to creep up his spine. Merely moving his body felt like a burden.
[Name] clears their throat. "I'm, uh, not sure what's going on. Or where we are."
They proceed to ramble, something that Kadoc blocks out as he gets his bearings of the room.
The concrete cell was practically bare inside. Inside a bedframe shoved in the back left corner with a simple table before it, upon closer inspection, was bolted to the ground. The front wall was made up of those bars, with a thicker vertical bar running horizontally on the top and bottom, the bars seamlessly without a visible key mechanism. The other three walls were completely flat with no hint of a former window patched over. The whole room was made for this purpose. Of what was yet to be seen.
It had only been a few weeks since they docked at the Wandering Sea. Of course, every mage knew how impossible the Baldanders was to find. It was the perfect base. Despite her quirks, Sion hadn't given him any reason to actively distrust her. Atlas mages weren't as notoriously selfish as the ones at the Clocktower.
By the time Kadoc turned his attention back to the young Master — what the hell, they're still talking. Their hands move quite animatedly, something about a… race? It's quickly filed away as inconsequential when there are more pressing matters at hand.
He cut them off with a pointed, "Did you call Chaldea?"
Their mouth shuts with a light click and a grimace flashes onto their face.
They roll up one of their sleeves to show the wrist where their bracelet communicator sat now bare. "It's gone." They announce with little fanfare.
Great. Trapped in a small cell with the Master of Chaldea. Certainly how he wanted to spend his last moments.
The ensuing silence buzzed in his ears. A minute passes. Maybe two.
From the corner of his eye, he snuck a look over at his cellmate. [Name] had zoned out, their eyes fixed to some imaginary point on the floor. The hand backed with Command Seals clutched the charm of a necklace, thumb running over the metal.
They did that a lot, he observed in the small number of times they were forced to interact. Tapping, drumming, playing with jewelry or their communicator, always something with their hands. Kadoc turns his gaze to his hands and the silver band clasped on his left wrist, hidden just under his sleeve.
After Russia happened — and that very narrow spat with Rasputin on the roof — he did what he said he would do. Moving past his pride, his life was now worth more than that. Kadoc was deemed not a threat and fully cooperative. However, that new Director (one of the Musiks no less) didn’t agree with Sherlock or Da Vinci’s prognosis.
Therefore, a compromise was made. One of the Chaldean Casters summoned a wrist cuff that effectively put a block on Kadoc’s ability to channel mana into his circuits. To satiate his own curiosity of its limiters, he privately confirmed channeling energy with the capacity to attack was… not a good idea.
Sealing away was worth it for the ability to roam the facility, though he mainly stuck to his designated room and the underground library. He was completely fine keeping relatively secluded on his own terms but the knowledge that he could practically go whatever he wanted was quite alleviating.
Sitting in the Shadow Border's cell for several days nearly made him go insane.
Alone with his thoughts.
Itching in the back of his skull.
A small part of him needed to break the silence. The prideful part couldn't concede. Kadoc couldn't let that go. He could hear the heartbeat thrumming in his ears; his breath now slightly labored.
But of all people, why is this happening? Why them?
Most of his time at Novum Chaldea was avoiding the Chaldeans. Things weren’t so tense that way.
Sion gave the impression that she wanted to pick apart his brain. The same could be said with Holmes. Da Vinci was busy but open to hearing how he's "adjusting".
Mash was… a no go. She would offer polite conversation in the library should they bump into each other but that was it. But he deliberately avoided [Name]. It was cowardly but he wasn't that self righteous to pretend it isn't.
His eyes flickered over their form once more before he noticed what they were holding. As they ran their thumb behind the bottom edge, open to view. An intricate rosary of muted grey metal. Thin swirls of scrollwork encased it like creeping vines. Truly interesting craftsmanship.
"I didn't know you were religious."
Kadoc cursed himself internally for blurting the question out. [Name] stilled, but their eyes stay on the floor.
"Not really." They respond, voice calm and measured. The knuckles around the cross go pale. "This belonged to a friend."
He decided to push no longer.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.
Seven steps made up with the width of the cell given his stride wasn't too long.
One. Two.
Being left in the dark was grating on his nerves. It must have been half an hour now and no peep of their potential captors nor anyone in the dungeon with them.
Three.
Damn it, this place is so small. Too small.
Four.
It's so…
Five.
"Do you remember going to sleep last night?"
Six.
Once more, the Master of Chaldea broke his thoughts. Kadoc stops in his march, turning on his heel to face the younger. They hadn't moved from their seat on the bedframe, only now reclining their back against the wall.
Kadoc raises a brow, folding his arms over his chest. "What do you mean."
"Do you remember going to sleep last night?" They assert again. "Do you remember what your day was like?"
Of course. He woke up early, stopped by the kitchens for breakfast. After that, he went down to the library and talked to Murasaki. Then…
Then…
His memory hit a brick wall. What happened? What book did he pick out? Did he make it to the afternoon?
[Name] took his silence as confirmation. "It might be another dream." They nod as if it's the most natural explanation.
A dream. "Another" dream.
He tried to bite back his true thoughts, only manifesting as one strangled question —
"How?"
The tone must have been lost on them as one of confusion. "Think of it as our consciousness Rayshifted." They explain. "At least our sense of self is stable. I'm still me, and you're still you."
Da Vinci said in passing that the two had an aptitude for Rayshifting in common, Kadoc remembered that well.
"It's probably my fault you're in this. It happens, ah… frequently." They shrug one shoulder. "It'll be okay."
Their casual nature served only to make his skin crawl. Kadoc stared at them, looking for some tinge of apprehension in their eyes. That's not normal, even for a Mage. How are you not freaking out? What the hell is wrong with you?
They must have spotted the sour look on his face. [Name] sits up straighter, quickly flashing up a painfully forced smile. "Don't worry! I'm glad to be with you, Senpai—"
"Don't call me that."
[Name] flinches, jolting back like he struck them; their big eyes blinking up at him like a startled deer caught in headlights. It's Kadoc's turn to duck their gaze.
"Um… Are you… mad at me?" They ask, voice dipping into a soft placating tone.
His blunt fingernails dig into his arms, dampened by the thickness of his long sleeves. If they can't handle a little barb, how the hell did they make it this far? That softness would get you fucked over at the Clock Tower.
"Is this about Russia?" They ask. After a beat of silence, they prod again. "I don't hate you or anything."
Kadoc closes his eyes and imagines the old Chaldea facility encased in ice, brought down at the hands of his Servant, and he knows they are lying.
"There was only one person I was supposed to hate." The old bedframe squeaks as they shift their weight.
Kadoc looks over.
They sit at the edge now, legs dangling over the side. He sees they've got that far away look in their eyes again. The corner of their mouth lifts and a small huff of a laugh leaves their nose.
"In the end, I couldn't even do that right."
Clang!
Both jumped, attention snapping to the front wall of the cell as the bars rolled open, clicking slowly like metallic wheels of a train down a railway. It settled into the other wall with another loud echoing clang, leaving the wall wide open.
"I thought that was locked." Kadoc took a step backward, trying to ascertain the potential danger.
"It was." They respond. The bedframe groans as [Name] gets to their feet. "Maybe something is inviting us out."
They briskly walk past him, stopping to pick up a thick fabric from the ground. They sling the discarded tan jacket over their shoulders and pull their arms through the sleeves. One look over their shoulder is given before they head left.
Kadoc's eyes flick between the previously occupied frame and the entrance, where the soft shuffling of shoes on stone can be heard echoing down the spacious cavern of a hall.
When faced with a life or death scenario, when every self-preserving instinct is screaming that this is a horrible idea… You have to be the type of crazy to challenge it. The former Crypter inhales and exhales before following after his rival. That was, after all, the person that taught him such a concept.