#what happens when an insomniac gets stuck in a paranoid headspace and connects too many dots

[caseybanning]

(major late game ambition: nemesis spoilers ahead)

Over the last several days, Casey had spent long, quiet hours (and bouts of sleeplessness) in the study with their research. Occasionally the sound of their footsteps on the floor would echo, implying they’re relieving boredom--or perhaps a difficult thought--by pacing. The silence was interrupted by their sudden appearance at mealtimes, or when they were too frustrated to continue for the evening, but this night was different. The clock was ticking well close to supper, and it was only then when they finally emerged.

Their feet shuffled against the floor as they walked out of the study and out into their main living area, hands stuffed awkwardly into the pockets of their trousers. Something was off; their gaze kept straying from the floor to the wall, but nowhere else.

Roland had been giving Casey the space to work; past the point of getting them in the right direction for finding game contacts, he wasn’t familiar enough to help with this work. He smiled and walked over to them. “Is it a dead end? Or did you find out who?” He asked.

“What? Oh.” Casey was startled at the sound of his voice. Slowly, they shook their head and drifted past him, staring at the armchair for a few seconds and trying to decide if they should sit. Their legs were trembling as if they were ready to run at any second.

“We can eliminate the Great Game as a possibility,” They muttered, smoothing back their hair away from their face. “Not that the theory really bore much weight to it, but whatever clues I could find made it seem worth it. It was just a waste of time.” The tone of their voice was flat, almost forced into sound calm.

“Was it the Masters?” Roland’s voice is quiet, he almost seems to be checking to see if the Bazaar reacted.

Casey was struck mute by the question, giving Roland an aghast expression. They gulp and start shaking their head harder. “I was so certain,” They said quietly. “I was so certain that it had to be Hell. It would’ve made too much sense. What James studied, our lives, the things that led us here. The gaoler’s honey!” They yelp. “You--it--it involves one of Hell’s roses. It made sense! I’ve seen him--” They’re voice is getting louder. “In the mirror, I saw him and he told me: Brass, in my soul. How could it be anybody except Hell?”

Their arms are crossed over their chest, almost holding themself. “But then everything stopped adding up and the other clues started falling more into place, more… it’s…” They stop again, staring hard at Roland. Their eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, as if trying to quietly plead with him to finish their sentence.

Roland takes their hand. “If it’s them, then we can do something about it. What do you want to do?”

They answered with a tearful laugh of disbelief, slowly removing their hand from Roland’s grasp. Casey appeared to struggle between saying something immediate and thinking it over, and the result was another small stretch of silence.

“We?” They asked, their shaking arms dropping down to their sides.

“You… when we first met--” They stop abruptly, almost as if they can’t believe what they’re about to say. After a deep breath, they continue. “We first met, years ago. You were an agent of the Bazaar, for them. The masters. Can they hear this conversation now?” They step back, trying to put some distance between the two of them. “This house, this place--we’ve been sitting in the nest of the ones responsible this whole time! Did you know?!” Casey shouts, and opens their mouth to speak again. Instead, they stood before him in shock, their face in disbelief at their own words.

Roland is quiet for a moment. There’s a heavy silence, and his expression is neutral. “If I knew, I’d be dead. They never would have let me get close enough to help you learn.” His voice is quiet, fragile. “I don’t know if this place is safe from being listened to. But I’ve written enough in here, even if I’ve burned it, to be sure they wouldn’t have let me out if they could hear or see us in here either.” He looks down at the floor, and closes his eyes. “You don’t have any reason to believe I wouldn’t know besides assumptions. I’d have every reason to be lying to you, but you know me well enough to decide that for yourself.” He looks back to them. “I didn’t know. I don’t what want to think about what would have happened if I did.”

Casey’s shoulder’s heave as they sob, looking back down at the floor as they try to figure it out. They waver, and then finally wander over to one of the chairs to sit. “Nothing makes sense anymore,” They finally replied. “I do know you, I do--everything is… with what they do and how they scheme, I didn’t have a way of knowing otherwise and after figuring out it was them, I kept overthinking it--” They’re babbling now, wiping their face with the back of their hand. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, that wasn’t a good thing to accuse you of and I don’t even know where that came from; I’m just… really… tired. I’m scared they’re going to find out we know now.”

Roland walks over to the chair, sits on the arm, and hugs them. “I’m… I honestly would have been surprised if you never thought it.” he holds them close, rubbing their shoulder. “You don’t need to apologize. At all. We can go away for awhile; clear out everything you need to go from here and burn the rest. No evidence. Just long enough to get some sleep, and come back at this fresh.”

Casey falls against him and presses their face into his shoulder. “There’s some things I may need to keep if I plan to keep going with this,” They replied with a heavy sigh. “Creates more risk. God, the Masters.” Their hand reaches up to Roland’s shoulder where, underneath his clothes, they know that his scars are still prominent. Casey holds still, grimacing. “This feels more like a suicide mission than one of revenge or understanding.”

“You and I have done more incredible things than this and come out alive. What’s one more?” He kisses the top of their head, and strokes their hair. “We’ll take everything you need out to the zee-cottage. We’ll keep there for long enough to come up with an answer on what to do next” Roland listens for the sound of anything; bat-wings, feet outside the door, screaming, and is satisfied when he just hears his own breathing and Casey’s.

“What about your work?” Their head snaps up, alarmed. “Both of us--I can lay low for a time or get a head start if you need to tie things up here, but I don’t want you to put yourself in any trouble if we have to be out of town either. The animals, well--the aunts could help us too, we just need to send a letter. The letter could get intercepted..” They stand up, trying to restart their train of thought. “We’re quite outnumbered too, I mean it could’ve been any of them if not ALL…”

Roland hugs Casey again, pressing their head against his chest. “I’ll tell a contact I need to lay low. And the worst that will happen is they’ll give me cold tea the next time we talk. Disappearing and convincing cover stories are my work. We’ll be okay. I’m going to get the landau ready, and we’ll be gone in time for you to get some rest.”

Casey nods, sniffling and giving their face one last quick swipe. “You said I don’t need to apologize, but I’m still sorry. I love you.”

“Well…” He kisses them again. “You don’t need to, but I forgive you. I love you too.”