Disclaimer: I do not own W.I.T.C.H. or any of its characters in any way, shape or form.
Note: Based on the cartoon, not the comics.
The purple stone glared at him and he glared at it with all the might his seven year old form could muster. It was small for a stone, barely the size of both the child's fisted hands together. It was also a lifeless stone possessing no consciousness to realise it was glaring or the wrong it had done to the boy.
Nevertheless, it continued to glare obnoxiously purple that had fallen with the cave-in over the only real beam of light from outside the cave.
Caleb did not like that rock.
He liked the cave even less.
Finally conceding his loss in the glaring match, the young boy backed up a step to press up the rocky wall. He thought he had heard a sound, a scratching somewhere above. It had not been a pleasant sound. In fact, it was what had driven him into the cave in the first place, sending the boy from his exploration into hiding… It had not been a pleasant sound at all.
Breathy shallowly, least the thing should hear him, Caleb began to edge around the cave to the tunnel at the back. The scratching came again. Caleb halted but did not cry out. He had learnt the importance of being quiet from his father. It had been a memorable talk.
"If you hear someone breaking in, if you see someone armed you do not know, if you hear men shouting about a raid, if you hear hissing of any sort…"
The list had gone on and on, but it had always ended with the same – "Hide and be quiet until I come to get you. Do you understand? You must be quiet until I come to get you."
The scratching came again.
Be quiet. Be quiet. Be quie-
Caleb stuffed a small fist into his mouth, stifling the involuntary sound that attempted to leap from his throat when the scratching came again.
The boy shot a look towards the tunnel at the back of the cave. He shot a look to the purple stone. It glared back at him, refusing to move.
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
Caleb bolted for the tunnel as fast as his little legs could carry him. The entrance to the tunnel seemed to be get further and further away as he ran. His feet slid across the rocks that had spilt across the floor and he bit his tongue, feeling the metallic warmth of blood flood his mouth as he prevented himself from crying out.
"Be quiet until I will come and get you."
Where was his father? He wanted his father... But he could not call out until his father was there.
Scratch.
Caleb tripped and suddenly the ground broke open beneath him. He was falling, falling, falling…
Caleb started as he suddenly found himself on the ground. He hurriedly pushed himself upright, reclaiming his seat back on the log from which he had fallen.
The sidelong look of concern that Aldarn shot him told the young commander he had not gotten away with the incident as unseen as he had hoped.
His friend quickly looked back to where his Queen was waving her hands, talking enthusiastically about her plans to expand the conservation site near the palace even further. With Aldarn taking more of an interest in the endeavor than him, Caleb had chosen to sit and doze for a while – an action he suspected neither present with him would deny him – in part to escape the unease that the place gave him.
He should have known that his light sleep would drift off into a nightmare. The only surprising thing was that it had not been about beastly snakes chasing him towards ever closing portals.
Caleb looked at his hands, imagining those of a seven year old in their place. He had not had that dream in years. In truth, it had thrown him somewhat off balance.
The young commander glanced up as his long time friend throughout the Rebellion, and now in this Paradise, moved to stand beside him whilst Elyon inspected a tree with several colourful birds nesting in it.
"Are you alright?"
Caleb rubbed his temples but did not answer. He did not need to.
"Nightmare?" Aldarn asked, sympathetic. "I've been getting them too."
Caleb smiled hollowly. "Just a dream from when I was a child. What are yours about?"
"Phobos, Cedric, and…" He glanced at his friend and thought better of his next words. "More Phobos."
"Ah." There was not much more that could be said.
The two drifted into a semi-awkward silence. It was broken by the delight laughter of their Queen as she watched a hatchling clumsily peak its head above the sturdy walls of its twig home.
"How she can stare at trees for hours, but complain about having to meet with the leaders of each district?"
Caleb smirked at his good friend's question. "Have you ever listened in on one of those meetings?"
"Well, I was going to." Aldarn shrugged. "But it was canceled an the Queen insisted that we take a stroll through the conservation forest. What about you?"
He grinned at Caleb's unimpressed glare. His grin grew even wider as the young commander ducked his head at Elyon's next words.
"I quiz him about them after," she said gleefully. "So he has to listen."
"Because we can't let our esteemed Queen suffer alone, can we?" Caleb muttered under his breath.
"Of course not," Elyon replied with extra cheer upon hearing him.
The girl went back to inspecting the trees for other signs of wildlife whilst her two guards watched her with misleading lazy expressions. Anyone who dared a closer look would note how their eyes tracked her every move, how their heads shifted at every tiny sound, how their hands were never too far away from their weapons. Despite their young appearances, they were every bit the trained warrior ready to defend their Queen.
Still, not even they could stay in one place for so long without growing weary. Or have still fresh nightmares dance their way inside their heads once more.
Shaking his head clear of the unwanted thoughts of purple rocks and scratching, Caleb groaned and stretched where he sat on the log.
"I hate sitting around and doing nothing," he complained. But it beats sitting around waiting to die. The former rebel leader had enough sense not to say the thought aloud.
"You did promise our Queen a day of relaxation," Aldarn reminded him. Elyon whipped around almost immediately to face them.
"This doesn't count," she said, pointing her finger at the sitting boy. "You are still guarding me, therefore you still owe me a completely work-free day of fun."
Caleb groaned, but it was half-hearted at best. Perhaps he could suggest to Elyon that Earth would be far more fun than anything they could find in Meridian… The flowers there were certainly more enticing.
Making to open his mouth least his reputation should be made subject to question, Caleb paused as a fast paced rustling – a sound clearly made by something larger than any animal supposed to have been in the conservation – moved towards them. Hand moving to the sword at his back, the young commander stood and moved in front of his sworn Queen. Aldarn similarly tensed, prepared to defend Meridian's rightful ruler from attack.
From the foliage burst a man they both knew well, one of the men who had helped lead one of the smaller groups in the first victory against Phobos.
"Eric?" Caleb asked, surprised.
The man did not respond other than a half strangled cry and spun around. He sighted the young commander and lurched towards him with another strangled sound, tripping forward in his erratic haste and latching himself onto Caleb's upper arms. The latter froze in shock as he met Eric's wild gaze that seemed to not see as much as it saw.
"Run! You need to run! He's coming!" the man cried. He shook Caleb. "Cedric is coming and he will kill us all!"
Caleb's mouth went dry. He remembered the way the snake-beast had chased him across Meridian, had chased him through this same conservation. He remembered being grabbed by the monster, his arms being crushed just as they were being crushed now. He remembered Phobos disappearing down a maw that hissed with laughter. He remembered screaming Blunks and flowers disappearing down that hissing maw as he slept. It was just a dream.
But was it? If Eric was right and Cedric had escaped, was it just a dream?
Caleb found he could scarcely breath. The pain of Eric's grip told him it was not just a dream. It has to be a dream…
"The horn would be blowing if he was on the loose," Aldarn said shakily even as he swung his weapon up once more. His reasoning, however, broke through the panic stupor that had gripped his friend and the young commander listened through Eric's rambling for the telltale lack of sound.
Aldarn was right. The horn had not been sounded. As far as they were from the palace, the magic that surrounded it would ensure they heard it.
Then why was Eric clinging to him in a panic over escaped snakes?
Unless they don't know that he's escaped…
"Please, we need to flee form here! He will find us!" Eric tried to set off in a run with Caleb in tow, but the young commander had regained enough of his wits to stand fast until he figured out what was happening.
"What's going on?" Elyon's voice was small.
Caleb caught her send a beseeching gaze towards him out of the corner of his eyes. Yet, he could
"Please!"
The sound of crashing through the forest moving towards them once more set all present on edge. Eric gave a loud sob and clung harder onto Caleb. Aldarn, at a quick look from his friend, pushed a pale faced Elyon behind him and lifted his sword, prepared to swing at whoever or whatever would attack them.
"Let go," Caleb ground out as he struggled to reach for his sword. "Eric, let go!"
"No! He will kill us!" the man sobbed louder.
From the edge of his vision Caleb saw Elyon raise her hands, prepared to use her power as Queen and Heart of Meridian. The crashing came closer. He needed to get his sword.
Danger! "Be quiet."
The thought leapt unbidden into his head, attempting distracting the former rebel from the situation at hand. Caleb grunted, trying to shake his head and arms free.
"Let go!"
"No!"
"Be quiet." Danger! Danger!
The crashing was almost upon them. Danger! This was ridiculous. He needed his sword and he needed it n-
Drake and his father broke through the trees. Caleb gasped silently in relief.
Elyon dropped her hands back to her side with a shaky gasp. Aldarn hurriedly lowered his weapon, instead turning eyes blown wide with anxiety upon them as he silently and earnestly beseeched their help to resolve the situation. The two men moved forward to where the third still clung desperately to Caleb.
The young commander winced when Eric tightened his grip round the youth's arms as the others tried to pry him away. Aldarn had moved to stand beside Elyon once more, the two unconsciously holding hands for morale support.
"Come on, Eric. Let him go," Drake was saying – almost distantly as though he were speaking underwater – somewhere to his right.
"It's alright. Cedric is not here. He's locked away in a cell," his father's voice came from his left, calm and soothing and rational.
"No! You don't understand! He's coming! He's coming…" the crazed man broke off into sobs, his grip finally loosening as he sagged becoming a dead weight and causing Caleb to stumble several steps back.
"It is alright. He is not here," Drake soothed. He took Eric gently but firmly by the arms and hauled him off Caleb. "He is not coming. He is under lock and key and Vathek's guard. He is not going anywhere."
The only reply was further sobbing, but the man's desperation seemed to have decreased significantly. Now he was more resigned than anything.
"Can you take him back to the palace like this yourself?" Julian asked the captain who now held Eric. Drake nodded, reassurances still dripping softly from his mouth. "Then I'll see to things here."
The man stood with the three youths beside him whose day had been interrupted, all four watching as Drake led the distraught Eric away back in the direction of the palace. Julian turned to the remaining beings.
"I suppose you would like an explanation."
Caleb inhaled, struggling inwardly to center himself, and raised an eyebrow at his father.
Julian obliged. "I was coming to fetch Elyon as the last members from the Southern villages arrived meaning the meeting could continue, and Drake and Eric joined me on their way back from keeping guard."
The man paused, looking over his son, his Queen and his son's best friend, and deliberated over how much he should tell them. Yet, it was an unfair thought to attempt to keep anything from them. What they had been through, despite their youth, had given all of them a right to not be fed watered down information like a child. So he continued.
"Eric stopped walking. I do not know what he saw or heard, but he suddenly just started shouting that Cedric was coming. Drake tried to grab him, but Eric shoved him to the ground and bolted. We gave chase and ended up here." Julian took a breath. "I do not know what caused this, but it seemed he was not in his right mind, that he was not comprehending of this reality. We were fortunate he was not armed."
Caleb blinked and ducked his head at his father's final words. The man's eyes had been wild, too wild. If he had of had a weapon in hand… Danger! But his instincts were warning him over something that was long over.
"Are any of you injured?"
The question started the young commander from his thoughts. He should have asked that same question as soon as Drake had convinced Eric to release him. At the very least he should have checked on his Queen whom he was supposed to be guarding.
Berating himself viciously in his head for being so caught up in shock, Caleb turned his head to discern the condition of the two who had been with him. The tension in his shoulders lessened as he saw they were both standing pale, yet tall. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to clear the fog of shock from his head. It was hindering his ability to think clearly.
"N…no," Aldarn stammered in answer to the question that had been posed. Elyon merely shook his head.
Caleb watched as his father studied them critically then, seemingly appeased by the truthfulness of their words, turned to him. Caleb blinked. The thickness in his head was still making his thoughts sluggish.
"I am unharmed," he managed.
"Are you sure?" Doubt leaked from the words in waves.
"Yes," Caleb replied, doing his best to steady his voice in a convincing manner. He was not entirely sure it worked, but his father seemed appeased for now.
The man regarded the three of them once more, taking in the tension in their stances, the paleness of their faces, the tightness of their lips. He studied Elyon's shimmering eyes and how her hands twisted in the folds of her dress. He noted the way Aldarn's hand seemed to keep drifting down to his sword with every other sound, his eyes still blown wide. He eyed his own son's hands critically.
"How about the two of you take the rest of the day off. I will take over guarding the Queen," Julian suggested gently to the two boys.
"Y…yes," Aldarn said. Julian flashed him a reassuring smile before looking to his son.
Caleb shook his head. By now he had hardened his voice believably. "I'm fine."
He was shocked, beyond shocked, almost scared out of his mind. He had seen several rebels crack under pressure before, but never had he witnessed something as potent as that. The Eric's eyes had been wild, desperate, and his iron grip had reminded the former rebel leader too much of Cedric. Caleb's arms still hurt from where they had been grabbed – he was almost certain they would bruise. But he was fine. He had to be.
"Caleb." There was a hard note of warning in his father's voice.
The young commander inhaled and set his jaw. "I'll finish both mine and Aldarn's shift, if you escort Aldarn home."
The stark authority in his voice left no room for argument. It expected to be obeyed and obeyed it would be. Elyon's next words sealed his fate.
"Please," came her dampened tones as she turned beseeching eyes on Julian. It was clear that she needed someone she felt close to and the closest person she knew intricately at that moment was Caleb.
Caleb watched as his father stood for a moment, jaw set in frustration, eyes containing an inner turmoil. He glanced to where Aldarn still stood shaken, then looked over his son once more with a hard glint in his eye. Finally, he conceded.
"Fine," the man said staring his son in the eyes. "But I wish to speak with you after your shift is finished. Anything else can wait."
Caleb closed his mouth and gave a stiff nod. If needed, he could always evade his father later on – he was apt at avoiding being seen – albeit that would make the conversation that much tenser when the man finally caught up with him. Sighing inwardly, the young commander turned to face the other whose shift he had taken.
"See you around," he said with a smile. He did not reach out a hand in reassurance, however, not in the least because of the concerning way they were currently conducting themselves. Caleb's smile stretched a little further like cloth over the barrel of a drum. "I am sure your father will be glad to have you home early. Don't let him convince you to do anything too strenuous, though."
Aldarn smiled back. "And see you, my friend. Perhaps you can take your own advice."
The look Caleb's father shot him spoke volumes on what the man thought was the likelihood of that occurring. Perhaps he would avoid the man once he had finished after all, at least until his anger had simmered down.
With another final frown aimed at his son, Julian bowed slightly to his Queen and then proceeded to walk through the forest towards the village, Aldarn following doggedly after him. Caleb turned to Elyon.
"Perhaps we should return to the palace," he suggested. His charge merely sniffed.
The pair stood there for a while more, Caleb waiting for the girl to steady herself and ignoring the flood of anxiety that was crashing through his inner self. A bird chirped somewhere off to his left. The almost silence was almost worst than the loud sounds of running feet, of hissing laughter…
"Are you sure you didn't want to go with your father and Aldarn?" Elyon finally asked timidly.
Caleb shook his head. "It is my duty to ensure that you are alright."
"Your hands are shaking."
"I am fine, Elyon," Caleb answered, forcing a reassuring smile across his face. He clenched the offending appendages into loose fists. "Besides, you seem to be more shaken than me."
The girl sniffed again. Her eyes, made wet with unshed tears, now allowing those same tears to cascade down her face. Caleb took her hand.
"Let's go and see your parents," he said. Hopefully they would know what to do for the girl.
Elyon followed her guard with a trust that made Caleb ignore the flood within him even harder. He would not fail her whilst she was counting on him, not like he had almost done minutes ago.
They walked through the forest, not hurried but not slow, one determined to get to his destination and the other trailing meekly but unquestioningly behind. Moving out of the conservation, they then took the stairs that led to the entrance of the palace. Elyon maintained her hold on Caleb's hand the entire time. That she did not comment on it was a point of relief to the young commander.
Eventually they reached the quarters in which Tom and Eleanor stayed. The door to their main room was closed, however, and, not wishing to intrude on a private moment – and with Elyon still in a timid state behind him – Caleb knocked on the door.
The youth stepped back and folded his arms, hiding the fact that his hands were still shaking as he waited. He glanced at Elyon out of the corner of his eye. Her posture was hunched, shoulders curving in as her head dropped down to her feet. Hardening his resolve, the young commander forced a smile on his face and nudged her shoulder.
"Hey, at least you get out of that meeting."
Elyon shot him a watery smile of her own. It had been a weak joke, but Caleb could tell that the girl had appreciated it all the same. Before he could say anything further, however, the door opened and Eleanor's face appeared out.
"Caleb, you look- Elyon! What is wrong, dear?" The girl's adoptive mother dropped to her knees in front of her, hands taking smaller ones up in earnest. "Are you alright?"
"She is fine. Just shaken," Caleb gave in answer.
"I am not hurt," Elyon reiterated.
"What happened?" Tom asked as he appeared at the door. "I didn't hear the horn."
"One of the men, Eric, had a break down of some sort. He surprised us before my father and Drake managed to calm him." Caleb clenched his hands harder in their folded position. "I thought it would be best to bring Elyon to you."
From the corner of his eye he could see Eleanor fussing over her adoptive daughter, ushering her inside the room where she could better give the girl comfort. Elyon managed a brief wave of thanks and farewell to her friend before disappearing into the room.
"Thank you," Tom said sincerely.
Caleb forced yet another smile. "It was my duty."
He caught the man's glance down at his hands. "Are you sure that-"
"I am fine." If the words were stiff it was not commented on. "If it is alright with you and the Queen, I think I will take my leave now and leave her in your capable hands."
Tom nodded and Caleb turned on his heel. The youth strode up the corridor and turned right, before wandering aimlessly along passing other palace workers and dwellers until he got to a less travel part of the place.
Now that he was alone Caleb gasped, dropping to the floor as his legs found they could no longer support him or the rampant flood within him. He continued gasping, unable to draw in a proper breath and his hands were still shaking no matter how hard he clenched them. He wished they would stop shaking.
The childhood nightmare that had plagued his mind earlier on came back with a vengeance. No purple rocks glared at him or scratching plagued his ears, but the former rebel leader felt like he was free-falling through the same abyss that Phobos had almost succeeded in sending Vathek down and Raythor had climbed out of. The sensation had stolen his very breath away, all but refusing air back into his lungs each time he expelled it.
The confusion that surrounded him on all sides seemed bottomless. The fall seemed endless. He was plunging forever through something that he did not understand, forever gasping on the verge of his last breath. And as he fell, his hands shook and shook and shook.
He clenched them tighter as he fell. They continued shaking. He clenched them tighter still. Even the insubstantial walls around him made of his stolen breaths and confusion shook violently in uncontrollable defiance.
This was it. It was all he would ever experience again, all he would ever see and feel: endless falling, endless shaking, endless, endless, endless…
A sound broke through the abyss of confusion as a voice almost recognisable and yet distinctly unfamiliar called to him. "Caleb?"
"Is he alright?" Another voice joined the first, just as familiarly unfamiliar.
"Caleb? Can you hear me? Caleb, it's Drake. Say something if you can hear me." The first voice spoke again, the concern in their tone growing at the lack of response.
Tremors still ran through the ex-rebel leader's fisted hands. If they stopped, then maybe he could get everything back under control. He would be able to understand where he was, what was going on, who was in front of him. He would be able to take in a proper breath.
By Meridian's Heart, he wished they would stop shaking.
The youth clenched his trembling fists tighter, only dully registering the pain of his nails tearing into flesh. He let out another ragged gasp, barely drawing in enough air to make his lungs expand.
"Caleb. Caleb!"
"Dammit, he broke the skin!"
Somebody swore. "Get Julian!"
There was the sound of running feet fading rapidly. The first voice spoke once more in front of him.
"Caleb, please. I don't know what is wrong, but you have got to calm down. Please. Don't you recognise me?"
He flinched away as hands tried to grab him. They tried a second time and succeeded, coming to rest lightly on his upper arms. Caleb jerked back violently, the back of his head hitting the wall behind him in his desperate attempt to wrench himself free.
Someone swore again and he was promptly released. "Caleb, it's me, Drake. I am not going to hurt you. Caleb! Caleb, calm down! You are going to injure yourself further. Caleb…"
There was a flurry of hurried feet and a rustling of clothes. Someone somewhere muttered a relieved thanks as another figure knelt down on the floor in front of him.
"Caleb, son."
The worried voice seemed far away, but it was familiar enough in a primal sense to send a jolt of recognition through the panic-stricken youth. He turned his face towards the sound. Through his fear, through his confusion, through the incessant shaking, through it all he knew that voice.
"Yes, that's it, son. Look at me."
From the blurry corners of his eyes he could make out two hands reaching towards his face. With alarm bells ringing in his head – Danger! Danger! – his instincts saw him press further back against the wall. The hands froze in place, but did not withdraw.
"I am not going to hurt you, son. I would never hurt you. You are safe here. No one will hurt you."
The hands moved forward once again, this time noticeably slower. All the while the familiar voice continued its soothing speech.
"It's alright. You are safe. I will not harm you, son. You are safe."
Caleb swallowed as the hands finally made contact with the sides of his face, resisting the gentle pull of them on his head.
"It's alright, son. Come on, look at me. You are safe. You are safe. Look at me, son. That's it."
Blinking, but still not truly seeing, Caleb gasped once more. He could feel the constricting thing that gripped his throat loosening at the soothing words, but it still stubbornly hung fast.
"Breath, Caleb."
He inhaled shakily, then let the breath loose in a rush of air.
"That's it, son. Breath for me."
He inhaled again, this time easier as his airway was opened up allowing a rush of air in. He exhaled. Then inhaled again in another rush. Then exhaled once more. In and out. In and out. That was all that he focused on as the voice continued to murmur reassuringly in front of him.
Eventually the hands on his face moved down to loosely encircle Caleb's wrists. "Come on, son. You need to relax your hands."
Fingers began to worry Caleb's own tightly clenched ones. They continued probing for a way to worm between his nails and bloody skin, but Caleb did not curl his fingers tighter. His hands were still shaking, but the soothing voice that had entranced him held his sole attention.
"Relax your hands, Caleb. It's alright. There is no danger here."
The fingers continued their worming and the voice continued its speaking, and soon enough the distraught boy's fingers gave way. His hands still trembled, but they were secured by another pair of familiar hands, the fingers from before discretely threading their way through the former rebel's own to prevent them from curling in again. Two thumbs began to make two separate circles atop his own.
"There you go. That's it. Just breath, son. Just breath."
Caleb blinked. A bearded face swum into view in front of him. The man smiled gently, lips tinged with stark concern. Caleb ducked his head to where his hands, entwined with his father's, were still shaking.
"Can you speak?"
Caleb swallowed dryly. His raw throat protested at the pain it caused. Why would the shaking not stop?
"Caleb, do you know what happened?"
The youth frowned at his hands as he tried to force them to cease their shaking by sheer will. If he could just get them to stop…
"Caleb. Look at me."
Young and haunted brown eyes finally met those of the speaker.
"It's alright to be afraid, son."
Caleb said nothing. He could not, because it was not alright at all. He had to be fine. He had to. To show his fear was a weakness he could not afford. To many depended upon him, too much was at stake. And yet it wasn't, not anymore. Not with Elyon as Queen, and Phobos and his traitor snake locked away. This paradise would not slip away again, but he had to be fine in case it did. He had to be fine. He did not know how to be otherwise.
Why wouldn't the damn shaking stop?
"It's alright, son. It's alright." A thumb gently brushed away the tears that were streaking afresh down the distraught boy's face. The hand moved back down to retake the trembling one it had released. "Caleb, it's alright."
But it wasn't. Not really. And both father and son knew it.
Julian glanced to where Drake and Tynar had stood to give some illusion of privacy as well as keep any others from intruding on the fragile scene. The worry in their faces was paramount.
He had no idea what to do in this situation, his son broken down in his arms and near completely unresponsive, with only meaningless comforts able to spill from his lips. But they were all he had and so he spoke them with his entire being.
"It's alright."
His son was too young, too young. Too young to have seen what he had seen, to have experienced what he had experienced. Too young to be forced into a position many grown man would not envy. Too young to have been traversing a dangerous world alone with even more dangerous enemies in pursuit. Too young to have been captured by psychotic tyrants. Too young to have been faced with death over and over again. Too young, too young, too young.
But what was done was done. All Julian could do was focus on the now where his son was alive and hurting, breaking.
Too young…
"It's alright, son. We are safe. You are safe."
The man could still feel tremors racking Caleb's hands in his own. It was worrying that they had not stopped since Tynar had brought him to his panicking son. Julian wondered whether they had ceased at all from Eric's confrontation with Caleb. The last he had seen of the youth at the time, his hands had still been trembling with unspoken fear.
The ex-slave and ex-rebel grit his teeth. He should not have let Caleb out of his sight.
"Son, you need to calm down."
The tears did not stop and nor did the shaking.
"Caleb, calm down."
It took everything Julian had not to let his own fear show in his voice. From the corner of his eye the man saw Drake make to speak. He subtly shook his head, refocusing his attention back on his son. The soundless way in which the boy's tears continued to streak down his face reminded his father all to well of those times in the depressingly distant-less past where a scared child had learnt to cry silently least he should fail to live to cry again.
"You must be quiet." His ancient words danced around his head like an uninvited and unwelcomed specter. The man blinked, clearing his head. He could feel guilt over his past actions later. He was needed by his son in the now.
"Caleb, son, you are safe." Julian's hands moved back up to his son's face. "Calm down. Enough. You are safe. Enough."
And slowly, slowly, as slowly as that snail paced sun all those mornings before Caleb obeyed, like any child, the insistent commands of his father. His crying ceased achingly slow and soon enough the boy had been reduced to a submissive, shadowy shell of silence.
"Do you-"
Julian glanced to where Drake stood with Tynar, cutting the other younger man off. He shook his head, tweaking one corner of his mouth up in thanks. "I can manage from here."
The man watched as the two left, returning Tynar's nod of farewell. Left alone, Julian turned back to where Caleb still sat withdrawn. He sighed.
"Come on," he said gently. "Let's get you back to your room."
He tightened his lips at the lack of response and carefully coaxed his son into standing. With the same level of care he guided the boy along the corridors and stairways, avoiding the potential curiosity of a stray passerby by taking the less common routes.
Eventually they reached the door Julian desired and he opened it, directing Caleb through the entrance. Closing the door softly behind him, Julian then led the catatonic youth to his bed and set him down on it. If he could get Caleb to sleep, then perhaps the less desirable results of the boy's descent into panic would dissipate.
The man removed his son's boots, then coat and then his sweat-soaked shirt, swearing softly in his head at the darkening finger-like bruises that encircled each upper arm. He berated himself for not ensuring that Caleb was injury free despite what he had claimed when he had known, when he had seen Eric grab the boy.
The ruined gloves were next to go.
Julian winced at the moderately deep half-crescent marks marring Caleb's palms as he peeled them off. It was a grim testament to the youth's previous state of mind that several were still sluggishly squeezing out blood. They would need to be bandaged, but the weary father could not bring himself to do so now. What was more urgent an issue was that Caleb still had not given any sign of life other than bland recognition and meek obedience. And his hands were still shaking… It was as if Phobos had shattered his psyche once again reducing the boy to some sort of waking unconsciousness.
Julian closed his eyes and inhaled. What he wouldn't give to be alone in the disgraced prince's cell… But anger would not help him now. Now he needed to fix his son. And, more than that, he needed to make sure that this would never happen again. It would not be a pleasant conversation, but nothing about the situation was pleasant.
They sat on the bed, the father's arms encircling his son as the latter leaned against his chest in a position neither of them had held for years.
"You should not have continued your shift guarding Elyon."
Caleb said nothing.
"Caleb." Julian pulled his son's chin towards him. Dull brown eyes met his own, resigned about the horrors they had been forced to face time and time again. Julian sighed. "You should not have kept it inside of you."
But those words were a lie. Had the youth shown the extent of his fear at the time instead of dealing with the situation, he would have provoked Eric further and more harm would have been done. Had he shown his fear immediately after, he would have scared his two companions more. Had he shown it if he had gone with Aldarn, the latter would have likely broken down completely as well, too inexperienced as he was in dealing with such scenarios. The young commander certainly could not have shown it when he was guarding his distraught Queen. And so he had bottled it up, kept it in much to his detriment.
Julian understood all too well why his son had done so. It was, after all, the trait of a good leader during war.
The man set his jaw. He would not lose his child to being a 'good leader'.
"Caleb," he began gently, but sternly. "You should not have claimed you were fine when you clearly were not."
That got a reaction.
The boy made to pull away, tugging his chin free of his father's grasp. He shifted on the bed in an attempt to stand. Julian held him fast, however, ensuring at the same time it was not so tight or sudden to cause the same panic Drake's good intentioned actions had before. He made a point of avoiding the fresh bruises on his son's arms.
"No, Caleb. Listen to me. Listen to me." The steel note in his voice made the boy still. "You must not claim you are fine when you are not. You must learn not to, especially when you are injured. Especially when it will cause you to panic like you did."
Julian took his son's chin again, gently but firmly guiding it to face him. A wave of frustration washed over the man as the youth refused to meet his gaze. "You were fortunate that Drake and Tynar found you, and that they had enough sense to fetch me when they did. You were fortunate that you did not do yourself any further harm than you did."
He was lucky that the incident had happened in the safety of the palace and not in the middle of a battlefield. The father closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose. "You are fortunate it was not worse."
There was still no response forthcoming. The man was growing weary of his one-sided conversation.
"You should not have gone with Elyon, Caleb. It is fortunate that it did not happen with her there."
Their Queen was strong for someone her age raised in as peaceful a place as Heatherfield, but Julian shied from the idea of what might have happened had his son – one of the people she thought to be as steady as a rock, and perhaps that was part of the problem, the constant assumption of others that Caleb would be there just when they needed him – broken down in front of her.
It was an underhanded tactic, invoking guilt in the young commander, but Julian had no illusions about it working. The boy was used to others relying upon him, depending upon him for their safety. That fact had not changed despite the tentative peace that had been gripping Meridian for just over a month. If it got him to speak, if it got him to say when he was hurting…
Perhaps it was too much to hope that a veteran warrior – a former rebel and spy – could change their ways, but he could and he would try.
"Caleb, you should have spoken to me before."
Wet brown eyes blinked up at him and then glanced away in shame. Julian sighed.
It's alright to be afraid.
By now the man knew those words had frustratingly little affect on his son. Yet, there was no other advice he could give. He sighed again, leaning his chin atop Caleb's docile head.
"I wish you would speak, son." But there was no use in pushing. It would do no more good than beating the boy for a response; it would only worsen the situation.
Silence fell between them. Julian was willing to stay silent the entire night if it was what it took for his only child to regain his center. He would stay silent forever sitting on that bed, his arms around his son, if that was what it took.
Not for the first time the man felt a mixed wave of anger and pity extend towards Narissa. She would never know the feeling of holding her child in her arms. She had ensured that she would never know the feeling of comforting her child. She, the mother that had given him birth, would never truly know, no matter what dreams she was caught in.
The former rebel locked his jaw. Any remnants of his infatuation with her cast no illusion over the responsibility the treacherous woman had played in the breaking of his son. The man inhaled deeply.
Focus on the now. Now my son needs me.
"I had a nightmare before it happened."
Julian stayed silent, unwilling to break the small raft the youth had managed to pull together in the stormy turmoil of his head. The voice was small, wavering, a far cry from the self-assured leader the man had come to know. Yet, he could not help the relief that washed through him at the verbal sign of life. Julian tightened his arms ever so slightly around Caleb, desperate to not lose the small piece of his son that he had regained.
"It was one that I had when I was a child."
The older man fought back a wince at those words. It was clear that whatever was going through his son's head, he no longer thought of himself as possessing that innocent state. Guilt gnawed at Julian's stomach. He wondered whether change in Caleb's thinking had occurred after he had been captured the first time. Or whether is was, the power of Meridian's Heart forbid it, before.
There is nothing that you can change about what happened now.
"I was a child again and I was in this cave. There was this purple rock and a scratching sound and then I was falling…" He trailed off either too caught up in the memory or too unwilling to go on.
Julian remembered that nightmare. It was held no candle to the monsters that existed, but it had been Caleb's most vivid at the time scaring young boy so much that he had refused to talk for almost a day – disturbingly like the moments just before now that he thought about it. The man had not been able to persuade the child to leave his side for a week. It took even longer for him to persuade Caleb to sleep in his own bed.
He also remembered it had occurred after the first time he had been late in coming back from a mission to steal supplies.
"I would never leave you, Caleb," the man promised earnestly as he had that same night that, despite seeming long, was far too short a time ago. It was a selfless father's promise that was all too selfish at the same time.
"But you did." Caleb's voice was not condemning. He simply was no longer a naïve child. He knew all too well the realities of the world, had lived through them. It meant that for all he wanted to believed his father's words, he could not. "It wasn't your fault – you had no choice – but you did."
A hand seemed to squeeze Julian's heart at the hollow tone to his son's voice. It was the same tone he had heard in many of the older men and rebels in the days when Phobos still reigned as tyrant over Meridian; the tone of those who had all fantasies and falsities stripped away leaving nothing but the harsh, undeniable truth.
Not for the first time Julian felt that he had failed as a father. But what could he do? He had been forced to raise his child, alone, in the middle of a despot's rule and a budding civil war.
The man closed his eyes. There was nothing that could be done about it now. Now he had a son who had seen too much, experienced too much, knew too much. Too much for one too young.
Focus on fixing the now.
"Caleb, son," he began. It was as good a start as he could manage. "I would never leave you by choice, and I would fight tooth and nail to keep you from being taken from me. If you were, I would give everything to get you back. But you cannot keep it all inside of you. You cannot just keep insisting you are fine."
He reached a hand out to tenderly stroke the face of his only son, his only child. He inhaled again, using the breath to boost his resolve.
"I know it is hard. I know you are used to keeping things hidden, but you cannot. Not anymore. There is no need to. We have won and we are safe. You are safe. But you are hurting. I can tell you are hurting. Yet, I cannot help you if you do not let me."
He paused, almost chocking on the rawness of his next words, on the rawness of all the memories that assaulted him and all the imaginings of toppled heads and bloodied figures and figures swinging from ropes in trees.
"Please, son. I cannot promise to never leave you, but I cannot lose you again. I would die before I lost you again. Let me help you."
Once again Caleb did not respond, but Julian could tell he had heard. It was all the man could ask, all he would ask in that moment. Silence was what the boy had been brought up on and silence was what he would revert to in his most vulnerable state. But even then, all those years ago, Caleb had surprised his father with his resilience.
"Why won't they stop shaking?"
It's alright to be afraid. It's alright to not be fine.
Julian's own hands were trembling where they touched his son. He focused on stilling them before continuing. He had to get the boy to understand, to see and accept what he was saying, but, for all his need, the man knew he would fail that night.
"Leave them be, Caleb. They will stop in their own time." And if they did not… Like that early morning days before, 'what if' didn't bear thinking about.
"But-"
"You need sleep, son." The finality of his voice was clear. Julian took his child's trembling hands in his own once more. "Please. Sleep."
He felt Caleb wilt against his chest at the softer tone. With a faint smile, one marred by concern, the man carefully shifted so his son was more laid out on the bed than sitting against him. The entire time he made sure to keep at least one of the boy's still shaking hands in his own, his thumbs making small stokes in circles over them. He would not leave his child, not again or, at the very least, not now.
Julian leaned his head back against the wall as Caleb's breathing evened out. His son might be asleep, but the much desired state of repose would allude the man that night.
He wondered if Aketon, Aldarn's father, ever experienced these nights, if Elyon's adoptive parents did. He wondered if the parents of the Guardians were ever woken by screaming and unable to decipher a reason for it or even give the basic comfort that came from simple understanding. He wondered if they felt as he did, helpless to help those who to them mattered the most. Helpless to protect the child they had sworn to protect.
He wondered if any of them would ever be wracked with the same near crippling guilt he was.
The former rebel tightened his lips in a bitter grimace. Shifting slightly, he circled his thumbs over his son's skin once more, a tender motion if there ever was one. He knew the boy could no long be called a child. A child was innocent; his son was too experienced to be such. He was a man before he was a man. The passing of his next birthday would be a celebration of age alone.
If Julian could wish for anything, he would wish that it would not be the case.
Sighing into the air the man closed his eyes. He would have to ensure Caleb went to a healer when he woke; his hands, though not bad, still needed tending.
It will be alright.
A small smile spun itself across Julian's lips, a genuine one this time. He breathed a soft sigh of relief as his thumbs circled his son's hands once more. They had finally stopped shaking and Caleb was still breathing. For now, that was all that mattered.
Caleb is 17 by the end of season two. I am assuming on Meridian 18 would be the age of manhood. I could be wrong, but it works well enough for this story, so…. Anyway, thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. I have another follow up chapter/second part to this (if anyone has any suggestions for what Caleb, Elyon, Blunk and the gang could be doing in Meridian that's fun I'm open to suggestions - I need an idea for the next chapter) which may take a little while depending on how my study goes. This one will have more CxC, for those of you who want to see more.
As stated at the end of the last chapter, I am accepting suggestions/requests.
Please review if you feel so inclined – I love hearing if my work is enjoyed (or even constructive criticism).