AND YOU WERE THERE, and YOU were there....

[conning]

He wakes up in the wrong place. That, he knows. He knows it the same way he knows his cheek is resting against stone, the way the air tastes like night time and high altitudes.

Slowly, he blinks his eyes open, staring at the wall of the alley for several long seconds until he realizes that's what it is. He's in an alley, with cobblestone paving, with architecture that he doesn't quite recognize. Everything aches, everything, from his crown to the bare soles of his feet.

He rolls onto his side, then it's onto all fours, onto one knee, stand. He doesn't walk so much as lose his balance in a forward direction, stumbling into the street in an emerald green suit that would be quite at home in 21st century Manhattan.

Comments

[conning]

Neal can feel his cheeks go slightly pink at that sound, but that's not the important part right now, no matter how much his body wants to focus on it.

"It's okay." He presses his palms gently against the other man's cheeks. "It's okay. You're okay, I am, we're okay. Where are we going? What are we doing?"

[withintenfeet]

This time, when Zerxus stares at him, it isn't with stunned regret; his gaze is bewildered, but in a tender sort of way.

"You - have barely been conscious for thirty seconds, and you're trying to reassure me." A bit haltingly, he reaches up to rest a hand on Neal's, and takes a slow, deep breath.

"Right. The Tower is still out, I think, at least for now. The safest place..."

Does he still follow that first instinct?

"It's not her fault."

There's a brief shudder, a ripple of tension, before his jaw sets. Whatever Evandrin meant, it doesn't - it can't matter, not right now. "We need to go underground. How do you feel, right now?"

[conning]

Confused. Light-headed. Desperately curious to find out what this man knows and how.

"Fine. I'm good." He glances over at the remaining wizard, who's mostly healed but still limp on the ground. "...Do we need to do something about...?"

[withintenfeet]

Zerxus knows what fine means, in this context, but he'll take it for now.

All traces of tenderness vanish as he glances at said wizard, his words a dark mutter. "Serves him right if we didn't."

But he pulls back from Neal - very slowly, at first, for entirely too many reasons - and hooks his arms beneath the mage's shoulders. He doesn't drag gently, but their fallen enemy gets tucked away in the nearest alcove. As Zerxus straightens, he pulls a stone from his belt and raises a finger to his lips.

It gleams blue as he says, "Captain Drake? I found a wizard on a bender."

The voice that echoes from the stone is an equal blend of aggrieved and amused. "Seriously? Please tell me this one isn't one of Hollow's."

Zerxus snorts, and it's the first time he's sounded almost playful. "No, they're College of Enchantment - I think whatever he got up to scrambled his mind, he'll probably be talking nonsense once he wakes up. But I can't stay, so - "

"More important things to do, I know, I know." There's no hint of the lieutenant's snide passive aggression; Drake sounds downright affectionate in her teasing. "Give me the coordinates, I'll send the person I'm most annoyed with right now. Anyone else you want me to call?"

For the first time, he visibly hesitates. Then, as casually as he can, "Archmage Por'Co might be interested."

"Okay, First Knight, but I'm dropping your name immediately."

"Fair." The moment they say their goodbyes, his gaze snaps up to Neal, and all of the grim urgency floods back into his voice. "All right, we need to hurry, because she's actually good at her job."

He offers his hand - then pulls it back, wipes the blood off of it, and offers it again.

[conning]

The shift is uncomfortably attractive, or possibly the uncomfortably attractive circumstances are just making this man's charisma better. Worse.

Whatever, focus.

He takes Zerxus's hand. "Archmage Por'Co? Why did you flag her if we don't want her to be good at her job?"

[withintenfeet]

"I..." He looks crestfallen, for a moment, before shaking his head, squeezing Neal's hand and starting to lead him forward, picking up the pace as they go.

"Patia is a friend of mine. But she's also - I don't know how entangled she is with this, yet. I don't know what kind of constraints she's working under."

I don't trust her curdles in his throat.

[conning]

He catches the disappointment, stomach tightening with a familiar anxiety he doesn't know how to mitigate. He keeps pace, confusion rapidly winning over curiosity.

"Was I not supposed to take your hand?" He thought they were going to do some kind of magical something or other. "Entangled with what?"

[withintenfeet]

He glances down at their hands with a glint of warm amusement before saying, "No, you were. So you don't fall over."

That said, he is going to cast Sanctuary on Neal now that he's thinking about it, because it can't hurt. It also gives him a few seconds to put his answer together.

"Patia is...very politically connected." Spoken with the rhythm of extreme understatement. "She's also one of the most skilled enchanters in the city."

[conning]

"Oh." To... all of that, really. The not falling over part (he does feel a little wobbly, the fatigue of a fight he doesn't remember starting to set in). But moreso the politically connected part. Which means whatever is going on with him--whatever those people had him for--it involves those in power, to whom this man is clearly adjacent but not able to entirely influence.

"I don't--" He hates saying it, he hates admitting it, but there's already so much he can't track about all this that he needs to take information where he can get it. "I don't understand what being an enchanter entails."

[withintenfeet]

"I'm sorry, I keep - there's a lot you'll need to learn very quickly." His voice is deeply sympathetic; that was overwhelming enough when he came here on purpose, fully supported and mind intact.

"Enchantment is one of the eight schools of magic - it deals with influencing minds. Like, for example, erasing memories."

[conning]

Goosebumps prickle uncomfortably up his neck and over his scalp, and his grip on Zerxus's hand tightens. Which is a good thing, really, because he steps wrong a moment later and teeters forward, overbalancing into exhaustion as the whole conduit thing also catches up with him physically.

[withintenfeet]

Zerxus, accustomed to being the last man standing, doesn't miss a step. The moment he feels Neal stumble, he moves to compensate, and then barely stops moving as he sweeps Neal into his arms.

"You're all right."

Really, this way is quicker.

[conning]

He makes a startled sound as Zerxus scoops him up with a motion so smooth it feels practiced. He's suddenly much closer to the other man's face, dizziness making him giddy on top of everything else.

"God you're beautiful," he says, the words impulse, and he can feel himself go red. He clears his throat lightly. "Where are we-- where are we headed?"

Not like he can do much about their destination even if Zerxus tells him. His bones feel like jelly, his body oddly numb. Is this shock? He thought he'd been in shock before, but nothing feels familiar. His throat hurts like he's screamed it raw.

He's pretty sure Zerxus is saying something.

He himself is also finally passing out.

[withintenfeet]

That...is about the last thing he expects to hear, even if it isn't the first time. (Look, sweeping a fae bard off his feet has predictable consequences.)

"Um. We're headed underground, I'm taking you to a friend, I trust her - "

On the bright side, his flustered stuttering doesn't matter that much. He can feel Neal going limp in his arms, and he knows better than to panic over it. Frankly, this might be better; it means that the poor man can rest, and that Zerxus can - just not think at all, as he dashes through the streets.

He knows every entry to the Meridian Labyrinth by heart. It was one of the first things he learned as First Knight, and it saves them quite a bit of time now.

[conning]

Neal doesn't so much as stir. He's still out when Zerxus finds the person he's looking for, alone and working, surprise.

She glances over as he comes in, goes back to work, then looks over again with sudden sharp interest.

"Why are you bringing me someone who looks like he needs a healer?"

[withintenfeet]

"Because we just knocked out three wizards and I'm not involving the Oracles in that."

There isn't a hint of shame or fear in Zerxus's gaze, but he does look raggedly overwhelmed, in a way he'd hide with almost anyone else.

He also doesn't ask before maneuvers - very delicately, despite the unconscious human in his arms - towards the cot Laerryn uses when she sleeps here. (Which is, he suspects, officially more nights than she doesn't these days.)

[conning]

Laerryn's eyebrows go up, interest immediately piqued.

"Who in the Ring knows? And what did the wizards want, and who is this anyway?"

She moves past Zerxus to pull back the blanket and sheets, giving them a quick and hardly surreptitious sniff to make sure they've been recently changed. They have, and she honestly didn't expect anything less, but you never know.

[withintenfeet]

"Only you, so far, but Tempus is out looking - he'll probably find Cerrit, at this hour." As he answers, Zerxus does two things: carefully settles Neal onto the cot, and steels himself for the conversation he's about to have.

"His name is Neal. I don't know much for certain, and what I do know is because of - he's connected to someone. Or possessed, maybe." Which should have him fiercely determined, as a paladin, but he sounds achingly uncertain. When he straightens and turns to meet her gaze again, his expression is balanced between desperate hope and crushing desolation.

She hasn't seen him look like that since Evandrin started fading away.

[apocaslip]

Oh. Oh no. Oh, oh hells.

Hells.

Her mind, busy at the best of times and chaotically busy at the worst, slams to a complete halt as she stares at that expression.

"N... H...."

'No,' cut off; 'how' unspoken.

It doesn't matter.

"We can-- He's alive, he can reach us, so that means... we can reach him. We can... we could-- we will."

She will get him back, for herself and for Zerxus. More than anything, to her own surprise, for Zerxus.

Her eyes blaze as she looks at Neal, unconscious on the cot, mentally shifting her project calendars and considering what research she'll need to start.

"First we need to find out if it's connection or possession or something else entirely."

[withintenfeet]

He knew that she would understand. He knew that it would be like looking into a mirror, seeing her process it.

He wasn't sure if she'd question his certainty, if she'd insist on hearing Evandrin herself before she believed him. That she doesn't, even for a moment -

His breath comes ragged for a moment, before he swallows hard and nods. His gaze shifts to Neal, too, and he raises a hand to rest it on his arm. "Evandrin sent him here, to Exandria. To us. But he was - " His hand twitches. He doesn't let his grip tighten. "They wiped his mind, Laerryn."

There's a protective growl to the words that he doesn't try to soften.

[conning]

Laerryn's gaze tracks abruptly over to Zerxus from her inspection of the stranger.

"Patia...?" Does she know, is she involved. Either or.

On the cot, Neal draws in a slow, deep breath, and exhales heavily as he settles a little more against the cushion. His eyelids flutter briefly. Laerryn leans closer, looking for traces of some working or tool.

Neal breathes, slow and deep. He shivers and curls onto his side.

"The wizards you fought. What did they want him back for? Did they hint?"

Academics can never resist a fucking hint at what they're working on, trying to entice anyone in earshot to ask about it.

Neal twitches in his sleep and then shivers again.

[withintenfeet]

"I - don't know." The words are fraught, in a way he knows she'll recognise. None of them are entirely honest with each other, are they? Not when it comes to their duties, to the city they've given everything to.

"They wanted information - to know how he got here and why. What gave him the power he has." He's looking at Laerryn again, thinking about anything else they might have let slip; he hasn't noticed that his hand is stroking Neal's arm, slow and soothing. Evandrin had had nightmares too, sometimes.

Finally, he shakes his head. "We didn't give them a lot of time."

[conning]

He might not notice himself touching the stranger's arm, but Laerryn sure does. She glances at that, then back at his face, eyebrows raised.

She has so many questions, but certain concerns supersede them for at least the next ten seconds.

"Who was involved that you know of?"

Neal, for his part, breathes a little deeper and starts to relax under the repeated gesture.

[withintenfeet]

His hand stills beneath her gaze for a second, and his expression turns - not guilty, but a little bit lost. He's felt so detached for so long, and now -

But none of that is important. The gentleness is helping, so his hand begins to move; Laerryn is asking a question, so he answers. His lips curl disdainfully around the lieutenant's name in a way that's definitely familiar; and he can name the Dean, but not the other wizard.

His eyes glint a little bit when he says, "Evandrin knocked down both of them."

[conning]

Oh, she hates that lost face, a lot. It reminds her of Quay in a way she doesn't want to think about.

She's relieved when Zerxus names the responsible parties, both because his mood seems to shift and because--

"Patia's not involved. That idiot has been jealous of her for years, if there's any way he can get what he wants from him," she jerks her chin at Neal, "without her? He'll try every other option first."

Laerryn's focus comes to rest on the stranger again, and for the first time there's a prick of jealousy that Zerxus got to see Evandrin and she didn't. Or at least, a part of her hisses, whatever is inside this man pretending to be Evandrin.

She steps closer and rests a fingertip against Neal's temple, starts to murmur a spell, and is taken abruptly by surprise as something bright and numbing floods her senses. Laerryn yanks her hand back and shakes it out like she's been badly shocked.

"What... the fuck."

Neal doesn't wake up. He does stir, just enough for Evandrin's pendant to slide out from under Neal's shirt and pool with its chain in the hollow of his throat.