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Chapter Text

Essek had always associated the cry of seagulls with the ocean.  The scant few times he had been able to witness the majesty that was the endless water stretching into nothingness, the seagulls had flocked overhead, occasionally diving for a wayward unlucky fish.

Those were sad memories.  Memories of things he had lost, things he would never find again.

And yet, as he listened to the gulls' cries now, he couldn't help but smile as he looked over the lake he was now tentatively beginning to call home.

It was by far no means a massive body of water.  He'd heard tell of freshwater lakes further into the continent that were as large as seas.  No, this one had a very distinct view of the other side.  Green hills, a deeper patch of woods nestled further in, all just across this deep blue stretch that one could imagine simply swimming across in a single day.

A deceptive fallacy, he remarked.  It took a ferry several minutes to even get halfway across, and that was with good weather and a full throttle.

This side of the lake, there existed a small town.  Well, small by many standards that others within this land may hold.  It was, in fact, a hearty size, complete with a university, a thriving downtown area where tourists flocked to, and an enormous farmer's market.  Part of which brushed the edges of a rocky outlook that offered beautiful views of the western sunsets over the water, and on which he stood now.

It was still daylight, of course, the market bustling behind him.  The smell of food trucks and freshly squeezed lemonade mixed with the bright sunshine in a way that could only be described as "idyllic".

It was almost enough to quell the worries within Essek's heart.  But for now, he was on a mission.  And for some godforsaken reason, nobody in this market was selling any green beans.

Oh, squash, sure.  Tomatoes?  So so so many.  A mother and daughter were practically throwing extra zucchini at passerby, desperate to be rid of their excess, but all Essek wanted was a simple starter plant.  Something small, tiny, able to be cared for.

He had read it in a book.  Silly, really.  But when one is lonely, having something to care for can keep you going.

His nose caught the distinct smell of fresh herbs, and he found himself perusing large clusters of basil, their aroma sharp and warm.  They could make for a lovely garnish on the soup he planned to make tonight.  As would these peppers.  And ooh, a fresh shallot, now wouldn't that be delightful - 

Focus , he chastised himself, folding the hand outstretched towards a potato back into his pocket.  Find your target.

The sun was reaching its apex, and Essek winced.  He still wasn't used to this much sunlight - even in the summers back in his old country, the sun never shone with this much ferocity.  And on top of that, the dull ache within his weak legs was growing fiercer and sharper.  He was weary, and had about resigned himself to simply settling for some tomatoes and being done with it.

It was the flash of ginger that caught his eye, he thought.  The way it juxtapositioned itself to the luscious greenery around it.  There! A tent full of houseplants, with a small section of vegetables, and a man with a shock of red hair perusing the day lilies next to them.

"Those are some of my newest batch," the farmer manning the stall was explaining.  "Beautiful, aren't they?  Would make a lovely addition to your home."

The man with the ginger hair smiled apologetically.

"Ah, I am sure they would."  He carried a heavy accent that was distinctly not from this country.  "But you see, I have several cats - they do not take kindly to lilies."

The farmer shrugged, then spotted Essek.

"Would you be interested in some lilies, sir?" he called over.  The other man stepped gracefully to the side as Essek approached, and he had the briefest of moments to observe the man's tweed jacket and messenger bag before forcing his attention towards the farmer.

"I am actually in the market for these," he explained, gesturing to the delightful array of green beans, snap peas, and radishes that were nestled between the beautiful colors of the flowers surrounding him.  "Could you part with a few of the green beans?"

Faintly, he was aware of the man hovering nearby.  His fingers were observing the edges of a spider plant, but his eyes were occasionally glancing over to Essek.  The paranoia within him gathered into sweat at the base of his neck, but he shrugged it off with a smile as he dug out some change and exchanged it for his prize.

"Plant them somewhere cool," the farmer reminded him.  "They like the shade."

"I have just the place, I promise you," Essek said, then turned to leave, only to almost collide with the other man, who had stepped closer in silence.

" Verzeihung, " he mumbled, awkwardly attempting to navigate around him in an attempt to push to the front of the tent.  Essek gripped his newfound green beans and stepped to the side, only to find the man do the same, and the next thing he knew the pot was tumbling to the ground.

The sound of shattering pottery was nothing new within the atmosphere of the market, given the amount of planters around and the people prone to knocking them over, but Essek still winced at the sound like a gun had just gone off.  The ginger man's features grew fraught, and they both knelt to salvage what was left of the precious vegetable.

"I am deeply sorry, mein freund ," he said.  German, that was what he was speaking.  Essek had known the accent from afar, once upon a time.

"It is alright," Essek said.  Though the planter itself was a lost cause, the beans were barely scathed.  He looked up to find the farmer offering a new container, and between this newcomer and himself, they were able to right the seedling to a better resting place than before.

"There," said the man.  "No harm done."

Now that he was standing still, Essek could take a better look at him.  His ginger hair, though wild in color, had streaks of grey running through it into a neat ponytail, from which several hairs were now loosely curling outwards.  His outfit did, indeed, look like a scholar's, as did the bag, clearly laden with books.  His eyes, however, reflected something deeper.  Bright piercing blue to match the perfect sunny sky.  They were full of wisdom, those eyes, and something told Essek that there was something more than just a bag full of books to this man.

"Ah, I am Professor Widogast," he said, as if an introduction was not his first thought of action.  He held out a hand dirtied with chalk.  "Again, apologies for - "

"As you said, no harm done."  Essek took his hand and found it well worn with callouses.  "I am Doctor Thelyss."

The professor raised an eyebrow.

"Doctor?  You do not look like the kind for the hospital."

Essek smiled.

"Not that kind."  He looked around the market and spotted some seating in blessed shade.  "Would you care to get a lemonade with me?  I believe I saw a stall offering some mixed with maple syrup."

"I would be happy to," Professor Widogast replied.  Essek ensured his newly potted green beans were safely secured underneath his arm before moving towards the seats.

"What do you teach, professor?" he asked as they walked.

"Advanced mathematics.  On the graduate level."  He answered as if bored, and Essek took note of his tone.  "My student body is small, but mighty."  He paused.  "Are you well?  I can slow if needed."

Dully, Essek realized his walking speed was not level with his partner's.  It had been some time since he had been expected to walk evenly with another, and he had forgotten how exhausting even a few steps beyond his comfort levels could become.

"I am…alright," he managed, though the pain within his muscles would plead to differ.  "If we could, ah…take things slow."

He expected a rebuttal at best, an active shaming at worst.  Instead, Professor Widogast stepped back to meet him and smiled.

"On your own time," he offered, and they walked together.

When they finally reached the shade, two maple lemonades in hand, the exhaustion of a day spent wandering around a market practically made him collapse with zero dignity onto the dirtied park bench. He managed to maintain resolve, his fingers curled around the cup in his hands.  Its cool condensation was a blessing, and he sipped the sweet drink with relish.

"You mentioned you are a doctor?" Widogast queried.

"Ah, yes.  My speciality lies not with the human body but with our souls."

The professor looked curiously confused.  "A psychologist?"

Essek laughed.  "I wish.  No, I observe and calculate something which I believe has always made us human - the stars."

The professor's eyes widened.

"An astronomer."

"Quite."

The confusion was back.

"What are you doing here, if I may ask?  The university does not have an astronomy program."

Essek took another sip of his lemonade.

"Do you know of the lighthouse by the edge of that small island, a few miles to the southwest?"

Widogast nodded.  "Though as far as I am aware, the settlement there was sold back to the state over a decade ago."

"It was sold again," Essek provided. "Through private auction."

The professor raised an eyebrow, impressed.

"It must help your work tremendously, to be worth so much effort."

Essek smiled.  "Exactly, professor.  An isolated area, with a tall structure, naturally elevated, far from the mainland's lights, and no distractions.  Perfect for research."

"And apparently a well-tended garden." He gestured towards the green beans.  Essek chose not to correct him - "well-tended" was barely a phrase that could be said about his own person, let alone an entire garden.  "What is the subject of your research?"

"It is…complicated."

"Oh?"

"You are an expert in mathematics, then?  You are aware of how even miniscule changes to an equation can affect the result drastically?"

"Of course."  Again, he did not seem particularly interested in his own work, and this time Essek saw within his eyes something more than that - dissatisfaction.  He could very well be entirely projecting, but he hoped he wasn't.  For he was about to propose something unorthodox.  And in his line of work, a miscalculation could end in…

He blinked away horrible images, and found the professor was still waiting patiently for him to respond.

"Would you be interested in a side project, professor?"

He saw the man's lips curl into a delighted smile.

"I do not see why not."

Essek hoped with everything he had within him that this Professor Widogast did, in fact, never get to see why not.

He raised his half-empty plastic cup of maple lemonade.

"Call me Essek," he said.

"Caleb."  He tapped his own cup against Essek's, then took a long sip.  "Now, please enlighten me as to how your research justifies me stepping aside from my duties at the university."

"Because you were shopping for houseplants and own multiple cats," Essek observed, and Caleb chuckled.  "And I have a feeling you might want more out of your career than yet another impossible equation."

"The only impossible equation here is you, mein freund ."  Caleb was smiling at him from above his cup, and only now was Essek noticing how much the ginger continued in full brilliance into his scruffy beard.  "But I am listening."

Chapter Text

"A planet?"

"Well, less of a planet." Essek waggled a hand in indication of the nuance. "More of a satellite moon orbiting another."

"Is that…possible?"

They were now seated by a pebbly beach, overlooking the sunset as it painted the sky gold and rose. Their lemonades had been long spent, but their conversation certainly hadn't.

Caleb was brilliant. He brushed his knowledge off as nothing, natural talent blossoming into brilliance, but Essek knew a savant when he saw one.

He had asked the time, a few minutes ago. And without looking at a watch, almost instantly, Caleb provided him with it, down to the minute.

So here they were, the day winding to an end, discussing science, all while Essek was quickly realizing how grateful he was that he knocked over that pot.

He smirked at Caleb's question.

"That is the thought, isn't it? An impossibility, waiting to be discovered."

"Not impossible," Caleb corrected. "Just highly unlikely. I can break down the statistics but I doubt you would like to listen to an extensive decimal."

Essek laughed.

"It's beyond the constellation of Cassiopeia," he provided.  "I've finally managed to pinpoint it on my charts, but…well, this is what I asked you for."

"Oh?"

"This type of discovery…it requires precise measurements. Finite details. And an extra mind that I haven't been able to find since…"

He found himself trailing off. The seagulls were retiring for the night, but some still cried from above, and for a few short moments he was on the edge of the ocean, panting and shivering, heart pounding from his desperate running, muscles spasming and screaming in pain, knowing he couldn't -

"Essek?" Caleb's voice pierced through the terrifying spiral of Essek's thoughts, and he blinked himself back to the present.

"Ah."  He caught his breath.  "For some time.  So, if you are not too busy with your university duties - "

"My classes are few and far between," Caleb interjected.  "I have plenty of time."

The sun was officially dipping below the horizon, and a nighttime chill was settling in.  Those who still remained on the beach were gathering their things and heading inland, and Essek moved to do the same.

His body, however, seemed to have other ideas, as despite the rest he had maintained for the past hour his muscles remained aching and exhausted.  He stumbled slightly on the pebbles beneath his feet, only to find a firm hand grasping his arm, supported him from below.

"Slowly, mein freund ," Caleb said, offering a supportive smile, and Essek returned the gesture.  There was pain, but there was comfort in this man's patience, and he managed to right himself fully and follow Caleb's guiding hand.

"Is…" Essek braced himself for a rejection.  He was moving too quickly, putting too much faith in this man he had just met, but this man was also granting him more compassion than he'd ever received in a very long time.  "Is tonight too short notice for you to come by my observatory?"

Caleb smirked.

"So forward," he remarked, and Essek looked down in shame.  He shouldn't have asked, he should have been content with the assistance and been done with it.

"I apologize," he mumbled.  "You have been a wonderful conversation partner, but I did not mean to be - "

"That was not a nein , doctor."  His hand was still supporting Essek's arm, though now that they were back on solid ground, Essek felt more stable on his own.  "I am simply remarking that is not every day that one gets an invitation from a handsome stranger to accompany them to an isolated island in the middle of the night."

Essek's shame rapidly made way for embarrassment as he felt his face grow hot.  He withdrew his arm from Caleb's grasp on instinct and attempted to compose himself, all while the professor looked at him with amusement.

"I - " Essek stammered.  "I simply wished to show you - "

" - your observatory."  The man's features held a cool demeanour, but his blue eyes belied a deeper curiosity.  Alongside a flair for the flirtatious, apparently.

Essek sincerely wished that would not interfere with his plans.

"If you are inviting me, then certainly I would be interested.  Do you have a boat?"

Essek still was having trouble shrugging off the implications of Caleb's earlier statement, but he managed to speak.

"Yes.  It is docked further south, though."

"That is alright.  I do not mind the walk."

The night's fauna were beginning to emerge, and a serenade of crickets began to follow them as they walked down the streets.  The sidewalk was well illuminated, but Essek's nerves still couldn't help but flinch at every other shadow that crossed the corner of his eye.

What was he doing ?  Bringing this absolute stranger into the lion's den, hoping he could somehow help him claw his way out again.  He had a brilliant mind, sure.  He was kind, he was open to new ideas, he was dissatisfied with old ones.

But he was entirely unaware of the danger Essek was putting him in.

Why would you care? his inner voice spat at him with vitriol.  It wasn't that long ago when you would have been happy to use such talents and dispose of them.  Why is this any different?

It was this cynicism that he clung to as they walked, and he listened quietly as the professor regaled him with a tale of a particularly troublesome student who kept insisting that the standard deviation was an entire decimal off of its axis, eventually resulting in the literal overturning of a desk.

"Their work was thrown to the ground in a mess," Caleb continued.  "And only then were they able to see the proper equations side by side.  I'd seen theories click together in the minds of many a pupil before, but theirs was a sight to behold.  Ah, this is your harbor, ja?"

They had reached the entrance to a small loading dock, several boats moored along it.

"Yes."  Essek stepped past the first four and presented the fifth to the professor.  It was a tiny vessel, barely big enough to hold people, for the majority of its makeup was devoted to secure storage, not seating.  The paint on the siding was peeling, the motor to the rear on its last legs, and the metal fastenings keeping the various storage spaces shut had long since begun to rust, but the vessel was his .

Caleb peered over it, then caught the name on the side, painted in purple script.

"The Luxon Beacon ?" he asked.  "Quite a regal title.  What is the significance?"

"It is what I hope to name my finding, one day," Essek explained.  "A beacon of light.  Of hope."

He stepped carefully into the boat and settled onto the driver's seat.  The sensation of the rocking floor beneath him gave him comfort, and he managed to extend a hand to Caleb.

"Apologies for the lack of space," he said as the professor took it and stepped gracefully into the boat.  It shifted significantly with the extra weight, but Caleb found his seat quickly.

"It is not a problem.  Do you use all of this space for supplies?"

"Mostly."  Essek made sure to secure his newly acquired green beans within an appropriate receptacle, then made busy with getting the boat ready to sail.  "One finds it difficult to transport astronomical equipment to and from a deserted island without adequate space."

Caleb laughed at that, and Essek was finally able to maneuver the boat out of the harbor and further into the lake.

It was a cloudless night, the moon shining brightly, and as they both sailed away from the lights of the town, one by one, cluster by cluster, the stars began to shine bright.

"Doctor," Caleb sighed.  "This is quite spectacular."

"This is my daily commute," Essek laughed.

There was a gentle silence as they glided across the water, and eventually the island came into view. Large enough for the small settlement that perched on it, now mostly covered in greenery, but at this point in the night it was cloaked in enough shadow that it seemed so tiny. Almost non-existent, if it weren't for the lighthouse.

It stood tall, several feet above the highest treeline, a tower of fading white paint and cracked railings. Though the beacon on its apex glowed softly in the night, there were no other lights on the island. No signs that a man lived there. Simply shadow.

Caleb immediately noticed.

" Mein freund, " he asked slowly. "Would there be a reason for your home to be shrouded like this?"

Essek drew in a sharp breath.

"It is much easier to see the stars when there is not a brilliant light shining into your telescope," he explained, and it was not a lie.

The professor, however, was more insightful than Essek thought.

"Forgive me for my bluntness, doctor," Caleb said. Essek noted in a slight panic that they were still a good ten minutes away from the island's dock.  "But you seem to be keeping something from me."

Essek blew out a long and shaky breath.

"I promise you that I am not luring you out to murder you and dump your body into the lake," he offered with a hesitant laugh.

"You do not seem the serial killer type," Caleb said, smiling slightly. "Quite the opposite."

"Oh?" Essek's fingers were shaking as they gripped the wheel.

"Are you in trouble, doctor?"

It was the way he said it, with such kindness and concern.  This man would not harm him.

He slowed the boat and turned fully to the professor.

"I…it is complicated." He took a deep breath and let it out. "My research. The theories I have. I do not strive towards them simply for the joy of the work."

Caleb remained silent, prompting Essek to continue.

"There are…people. People I once knew. Once worked for. They wished for such knowledge, but for unsavory goals."

"What unsavory goal can be found in a simple satellite?" Caleb asked innocently, and Essek almost wanted to laugh.

"When you are in possession of a powerful revelation, you have a lot of political leverage. Entire governments would kill to be the one to claim first discovery of such a rarity. I know you are not of this country, but surely you remember your history. The way the world almost destroyed itself just so a man could walk where no one else had?"

Caleb was listening with rapt attention, but nodded.

"Well, I did not want it. The power, the spectacle, the potential political upheaval. I simply wanted to find the impossible. So I ran away. And I hid."

There was more to the story, violence and betrayal and complicity. But for now, even the basics were giving Essek nausea.

The boat had all but stopped now, leaving them floating in the moonlight, and he could see Caleb slowly processing the information.

"A small town like this seems like an odd choice for a sanctuary," he finally said.

"It was the best choice," Essek countered.  "Peace and quiet and a chance to disappear into the darkness."

He gestured towards the island, still a distance away.

"Then by all means," Caleb stated.  "Show me the quiet."

Essek let out a nervous laugh, but gratefully took the moment to begin moving the boat again.

"Thank you, Caleb," he said, after a few minutes of silence.

"For what?"

"For listening," Essek explained.  "It has been a while since I have had a…partner in this."

He had hesitated on the word, but it was suitable for the situation.  Certainly did not have any double meaning.

He pointedly ignored the way the moonlight caught the professor's ginger hair in such a fashion that caught Essek's breath.

"Of course," Caleb responded, and they sailed the rest of the distance in comfortable quiet.

Chapter Text

When they finally arrived at the dock, it was pitch black outside, save the starlight above them.  By muscle memory, Essek found the nearest lamp, and soon a wooden pathway leading inland and up the side of a hill was illuminated brightly.  Caleb let Essek lead the way, and the Luxon Beacon was left moored behind them as they stepped cautiously up a set of stairs that curved along the island's edges, Essek lighting lamps as they went.

The steps eventually opened out onto a flatter area hosting a small settlement nestled within the thick greenery surrounding them.  A humble cottage stood near the treeline, its age prevalent from the holes in its roof and the occasional broken planks in its walls.  There was a smaller storehouse a few yards away, but the key focal point was the lighthouse.  From this perspective, its size was even more immense, and the steady light at the top seemed like a secondary sun.

Essek lit the last of the lamps, bathing the clearing in warm hazy light, as Caleb stepped towards the center, looking up at the lighthouse and marveling at its beauty.

"Do you live there?" he asked, gesturing towards the broken house.

"I can if I want to," Essek admitted.  "But to tell you the honest truth, I very rarely leave my research during the night.  I often wake up to the morning sun shining through those windows."

He nodded towards the lighthouse above.

"Shall we take a look?" he asked, and Caleb smiled.

The main door to enter was hanging slightly off of its hinges, ill-repaired but sturdy enough to lock.  Essek produced a key from his pockets, and after a moment of fiddling with the old padlock the door swung outwards.

Inside, the base of the lighthouse contained nothing more than a table and chairs, with an entrance to a tiny kitchenette that Essek had always made good use of.  The stairs leading upwards were heavy, carved of stone and shale, with a cracked wooden railing curving along its edge.

Essek stopped at the base of them, looking up, and took a deep breath.  Caleb noticed and paused, turning back.

"Are you alright?"

Essek grimaced.

"Despite my dedication, despite my passion…each climb still intimidates me."

He could already feel the pain, the way he would inevitably fall into the plush chair waiting above whose upholstery was falling apart at the seams but whose cushions worked miracles on the exertion he had just drilled into his body.  Some days, the climb was bearable, and he was able to move around freely within a few moments.  Other days, he doubted he would even be able to reach his telescope.

"It is no matter," he said, shaking off the dread.  "I told you I would show you my observatory, and here we are."

Caleb seemed as if he wanted to say something, but he stopped and nodded.

"Take your time," he reminded Essek, and the two of them began to climb.

The stone walls were cracked, the ivory paint barely present, and the railing possessed more splinters than proper wood, but Essek knew what promises awaited them both at the top, and he found charm in all of his home's idiosyncrasies.

His legs were beginning to scream at him as they crested at last into the upper level of the lighthouse, and he heard Caleb take a small gasp.

"Oh, doctor…this is most wonderful."

The stairs emptied out into a grand circular room, large windows running along the entire perimeter granting a stunning view of the lake around them, and the horizon beyond.  The lighthouse beacon sat rotating in the middle, every once in a while illuminating them with blinding light before swiveling back out again.

Throughout the space were signs of a researcher hard at work.  There was a small bookshelf absolutely bombarded with texts and tomes, some of which had taken Essek hours to lug up the stairs, but had been worth it.  A large dining table stood covered with large sheets of paper, half of which were full of the scribbles only a scientist would decipher.  The table had been missing a leg, which Essek had replaced with a perilous stack of milk crates.  And to the north, there was a wide array of star charts, pinned and taped meticulously to the glass of the window and extending beyond to both floor and ceiling.

Essek had long since collapsed in his armchair, massaging his legs, as he watched Caleb take it all in.  The professor's eyes, however, had not lingered much on the contents of the room itself, but on the true reason why Essek had chosen this place as his home.

The roof of the lighthouse featured a large skylight.  Meant originally as a ventilator for the old-fashioned source of the beacon, Essek had repurposed it as a permanent observatory, through which his telescope had full view of every star in the sky.

Said telescope currently lay dormant, last left facing east.  It was by no means one of the masterpieces that lived inside the halls of what he left behind, nor was it at all as powerful as what he dearly wished it could be.  It stood proudly, a shiny and newly polished remarkable thing amidst the decaying debris surrounding it.

"It is not much," Essek said, still recovering.  "But I have made it my own."

Caleb turned in a full circle, then tilted his head curiously.

"Where is your garden?"

At that, Essek laughed.

"Come, let me show you."

He moved to rise, but pain cut the action off, and he felt himself falling backwards yet again.

Then, Caleb's hand was there, gripping Essek's arm and pulling him firmly to his feet.  He silently offered himself as a support, and Essek smiled gratefully, before leading them both towards the outer door to the balcony outside.

The circular balcony was usually buffeted by strong winds and a fierce chill, but today it was calm and tranquil.  He found the raised bed of dirt and mulch that lay nearby the doorway and took an unsteady seat next to it.  He produced the green bean seedling, which he had been dutifully carrying beside him the whole climb, and quietly folded its roots into the earth.  He brushed its leaves with the gentleness of a mother, then turned towards Caleb.

"Small yet mighty, yes?" he asked, and Caleb smiled warmly.  He waited patiently as Essek gave the seedling a drink from the watering can that had been waiting all day to be of use, then offered another hand to pull Essek to his feet.

"Shall we begin?"

Chapter Text

Professor Caleb Widogast was smart.

Beyond that, he was intelligent .  Anyone can memorize a textbook or an equation.  This man took facts and figures and painted masterpieces with them.  He could see things, connections that had never been visible before, ideas of looking at things through an entirely different lens.

That first night, Essek had spent a majority of their time filling in Caleb on his research.  The professor listened quietly, occasionally asking a question, internalizing everything, and Essek could already see the gears moving within his mind.

It was practically sunrise by the time they sailed back to the mainland.  Essek felt wired with excitement, not wishing to sleep, but he could tell that drowsiness was taking Caleb, and he did not wish to disrupt his restfulness before classes resumed in a few days.

The Luxon Beacon touched the dock gently and Caleb climbed out.

"When can we next meet?" he asked, and Essek felt pure joy.

"You still wish to?" he asked, hopeful.

"I do not see any reason not to."

"Then how about Monday night?"

" Ja. That sound good."

And so their research began.

Between Caleb's classes - which were few and far between, as a small student body and higher learning meant long breaks for study - the professor would make nighttime trips to the island.  Essek would pick him up at sundown, and by the time they reached the top of the lighthouse, the stars were shining bright, ready to be studied.

Essek found the climbs to the top less taxing, now that he had Caleb to support him, both physically and psychologically.  And with the assistance of his partner, more books and tools were introduced into his study.  The star charts that clung to the glass with tape were instead secured to a corkboard Caleb had managed to drag upstairs, and with that new space came more room to grow their theories.

A week passed this way, then two.  Though it was not every night that Caleb was physically present, it was indeed every night that Essek felt him there.  He would find himself staring up through the skylight, gazing at the world he called home, and his thoughts often drifted towards Caleb's face.  The distant stars seemed to reflect the blue within his eyes.  He knew he should retire to his proper bedchambers in the house next door, but he truly never wanted to leave his imagination behind.

What if this was it?  A random encounter turned a deep partnership, that would lead to the discovery of a lifetime?

He barely dared to hope.

"I don't understand it," Essek observed one night.  Caleb was in the middle of scratching out the solution to an equation that he had just came up with not ten minutes ago.

"It is not as complex as it seems, doctor.  If you take a look here - "

"Not this, professor," Essek clarified.  " You ."

Caleb blinked and pulled away from his reverie.

"How do you mean?"

"You possess a mind built to bend the rules.  Manipulating old concepts and creating new ones from them."

"...yes?" Essek could tell Caleb was not used to such flattery.

"So why in all the stars have you found yourself teaching such a rigid and unmoving subject such as mathematics?"

He could see a rebuttal alight in Caleb's eyes, and it made him amused.

"There is plenty of malleability to be found in mathematics, doctor!"  His defensiveness was almost adorably false.  "Every day, my students and myself have a chance to create new ideas, to open up new possibilities, and utilize what we have learned to - "

"But you remain limited by such learnings," Essek interrupted.  "It does not matter how new those ideas may seem - they are still weighed down by the existence of old ones."

Caleb's face fell, and Essek knew he had struck a chord.

"...yes."  His gaze lost focus, staring at a thought Essek could not see.  "I…what I teach now is safe.  It is sturdy and predictable."

"Is there a reason you want to avoid the opposite, professor?" Essek prompted.

Caleb's eyes still seemed lost in another world, and he frowned.

"Unpredictability can lead to harsh consequences, doctor." He sounded haunted. Essek wanted to push him, to uncover what secrets lay behind that look, but he knew such actions were hypocritical at best .

"Yet you found yourself here."  Essek gestured to the charts in front of them.  "Why is that?"

Caleb's focus finally snapped its way back into this reality.  He stared at the papers, then walked over to the array of charts and sketches that were plastered on the wall.  He traced a single gossamer silver thread that led between the central diagram of Cassiopeia and a seperate paper - a theory they had been discussing about the potential axis of the subsatellite.  His fingers brushed the paper gently, himself lost in thought.

"What I teach is set in stone.  Grounded and real.  But when you proposed this venture, it gave me hope."

"Hope for what?"

"Hope that I can find peace in all of this.  One day."

Chapter Text

The next time they met, it was a bad day.

Despite Essek's newfound hope and happiness, somehow his body was not receiving the message.  By the time he even managed to get into the Luxon Beacon , he was resisting the urge to scream.

He managed to find his way to shore through a daze of reddish pain, and when Caleb saw him, the professor immediately knew.

"Hold steady, mein fruend ," he said, putting his hands out to stop Essek as he attempted to rise from his seat.  The pain was like fire, and he had forgotten how much it hurt .

Caleb's arm wrapped around his chest and he managed to pull Essek onto the dock.

"We should get going - " Essek attempted, but Caleb shook his head.

"We are not going anywhere but a nice warm fireplace and lots of pillows," he said firmly, and Essek could not argue.

He found himself in the passenger seat of an old vehicle that had clearly seen better days but somehow matched the aesthetic of the professor completely.  He was slipping in and out of alertness, grateful for the lack of movement, but his head was splitting and his legs seemed non-existent.

They arrived at the front door of a small cottage towards the edges of the woods surrounding the town, its outer walls made of chipped wood and painted a lovely shade of pale green.  Caleb was practically carrying Essek at this point, but they managed to make it to the front door.

They were greeted by an empty hearth and, as promised, many pillows, in which Essek immediately sank down on with a grateful sigh.  Caleb made busy with lighting the fire when there was a tiny mrrpph .

Essek looked down to find a bengal cat winding its way along the edge of the couch.  It bumped its head onto Essek's limp hand and meowed again.

"Frumpkin," Caleb said without turning around.  "Be a good cat and tend to Essek, would you?"

The cat, almost as if it understood the words perfectly, immediately jumped onto Essek's lap and began to make biscuits.  The small kitty massage was the greatest of small blessings, and where it pressed its small paws, comfort grew.

The fire started without fuss, and Caleb stood and pulled up a chair next to Essek.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, and Essek knew the question was made with full awareness of his situation, unlike other empty sympathies he had once received.

"Awful?" he said with a wretched smile.  "I thank you for your aid."

"There is nothing to thank me for, doctor.  I am just sorry that you felt the need to come to shore at all in this state."

"I…" Essek winced as Frumpkin shifted, but sighed as the biscuit-making continued.  "I did not wish to go through this alone."

He was surprised at his own vulnerability, but Caleb didn't seem phased.

"Can I make you some tea?" he asked.  "One of my students is excellent at growing just the right brews for such occasions."

"Yes, please," Essek said.  He repositioned himself slightly to better make way for further kitty biscuits.  "What is their secret?"

Caleb had already stood and made for the kitchen, but he called over his shoulder.

"Their softest answer was 'composting'."

"Softest…?"

Caleb had ducked out of sight, and he heard the clacking of mugs and the flow of water as he put the kettle on.  In a few minutes the pot was whistling, and Essek was handed a "#1 Best Professor" mug with a tea that smelled strongly of ginger and chamomile.

"They claim they harvest their leaves from the remains of the long buried.  Does that frighten you?"

The long grateful sip was all the answer Essek gave as he inhaled the soothing aroma.  The warmth of the water and the flavors of the herbs instantly began washing away some of the remnants of the pain that Frumpkin had not been able to knead out.

Caleb smiled and took a sip of his own tea as well.  He held a cup shaped like a cat, and Essek wondered exactly how many of those he had.

"Thank you, Caleb," Essek said after several moments in peaceful quiet.

"Of course."

By the time the tea was finished, Frumpkin had curled up on Essek's lap, purring loudly, and Caleb had added an additional log to the fire.  Essek noticed each time the embers flared up, the professor would flinch, then quickly hide the motion.  Essek blamed the murkiness of his pain, accentuating his vision, but he caught him doing it more than once.

Caleb was near the front window, about ready to shut the curtains for the night, when he uttered a small gasp.

"Essek," he breathed.  "You must look."

The idea of moving was beyond him, but Caleb seemed excitingly insistent.  He managed to push himself upwards, leaning towards the window, careful not to disturb the cat.

The night's stars had been washed away by a sea of colors.  Greens and blues and purples all danced above them.

"The aurora," Essek breathed.  "I…I hadn't realized it could reach so far south."

Caleb took a seat next to him as they both gazed upwards.

"We spend so much time looking at the other stars," he mused.  "I forget what wonders our very own can create."

Caleb was so close, sharing this space with him, that Essek hadn't noticed that his hand was brushing his own.  He took it and squeezed as much as his weak body could.

"I haven't been entirely forthright with you," he said quietly.

Caleb looked over to him, tilting his head.

"How do you mean?"

"I spoke to you about running away from those who wished to utilize my work for nefarious purpose," he reminded him.  "Well, it was more than that.  I wasn't just some nobody scientist with a silly theory.  I was…"

His breath hitched in his throat as his thoughts began to fade from the comfort of this house into that night on the beach, panting, shivering, in agony.

"Essek."  Caleb's warm hand pulled him back to the present.  "You do not have to tell."

"I owe it to you," he admitted, then took a deep breath.  "I was part of an organization.  Shady government types, the kind holding onto a cause that has long since died, yet still they persist, determined to bring it back again."

He closed his eyes.

"They valued my theories.  My work.  They promised me much - money, fame, further life prospects.  I was vain and arrogant, and I was blinded by those feelings.  I had convinced myself that they were telling the truth."

Caleb moved so that Essek could rest his head on his shoulder in comfort. Frumpkin shifted in his lap but settled down once more with a yawn.

"One day, it all shattered.  I overheard my supervisor discussing their true plans for me - steal my work, then throw my body into the nearest harbor.  So I ran."

He gripped Caleb's hand tightly.

"I was armed with only a duffel bag full of notebooks, a change of clothes, and a passport three years expired.  And by the time I had reached the outskirts of the city, they had found out my betrayal.  I fled until my legs couldn't take it anymore, then ran some more.  Eventually, I found myself by the shoreline of a sea, and I bribed a local fisherman to ferry me across.  I thought for sure they would find the boat and destroy it.  But somehow, I survived, and found my way here."

There was a lull in the conversation, during which they both gazed up at the aurora outside, which continued to dance and weave its way through the skies.

"I am sorry you went through such hardship, mein freund ," Caleb eventually said.

"It was of my own making.  Some days I can almost convince myself I don't deserve it."

"I share the same feeling," Caleb said, and Essek looked up at him.

"What do you - "

"You asked me why I find myself stuck within the rigidity of mathematics.  It is because I have seen what happens when reality becomes chaotic.  Unpredictable."

He gestured weakly to the fireplace, where the logs were all but burnt up, embers nestling into slumber.

"I grew up in a much smaller town than this, though not too far away.  The isolation was comforting, until I realized how long it takes for emergency services to arrive."

He instinctively reached out for Frumpkin, who bumped his head against his palm.

"It was nothing but an accident, or so I tell myself.  A candle left unattended.  A bedsheet splayed out in an unmade bed.  The drought from the sun over the summer.  But within less than an hour, chaos and ruin had taken my mother and father, and I never wished to see anything without order again."

He shuddered within the memory, and Essek squeezed his hand tightly.

"They would have wanted you to do all of this," Essek finally said.  "To step back into that chaos."

" Ja .  I like to think that."

It was then that Essek realized how close Caleb was.  Their hands were intertwined, and from his perspective, the man's beard was brushing against his forehead, exposing his chin.  A few inches north, his lips.

It was like pursuing the north star, he thought.  Always there.  Always waiting.

His body protested as he moved upwards, but the tea's effects were still flowing through him, and this pain he didn't mind.

Caleb made a small noise of surprise as Essek kissed him, and he drew back.

"I'm sorry," Essek whispered.  "I shouldn't have - "

"You have done nothing wrong, mein freund, " Caleb smiled.  He brushed aside some of Essek's fraying hair and tipped his chin up.  "I just wish to see you better, under the light of our star."

Essek closed his eyes as they met each other again, and though the aurora was nothing but the result of disturbances in the Earth's magnetosphere, caused by enhanced speeds of solar wind - a trick of the light, a distant illusion - he felt the warmth of its majesty as he held his partner beneath its glow.

Chapter Text

Essek awoke slowly, gentle sunbeams tickling his face through the hazy veils of curtains. He reached out for Caleb and found him missing, and he had a moment of brief pure panic before he recognized the sounds of dishes clattering and a kettle simmering.

Caleb poked his head around the corner from the kitchen and smiled warmly.

"Good morning, schatz ," he said, and the affectionate nickname filled Essek with joy.

"Good morning." Essek went to stretch out his body from slumber, a usually painful task, but despite the agony of yesterday, it seemed kitty biscuits, dead people tea, and sweet kisses under their star had left an impression. There was still achiness, but dull and tolerable, and he smiled as he realized that Frumpkin was currently curled up next to him, his forehead burrowed under Essek's arm.

Caleb eventually walked out with a tray of wonderfully smelling breakfast, bacon and toast and scrambled eggs, all completed with another mug of tea, this one smelling of bright lavender.  Caleb settled next to him with his own tray, and they ate breakfast in comfortable silence.

"I was thinking," Caleb said as Essek finished the rest of the tea.  "If you're feeling well enough to travel once more, I had a theory I wish to test."

"Oh?" Essek straightened up.  The usual ache in his legs had long since fallen quiet, and he certainly felt well enough to continue their studies.

"The aurora last night made me realize something," Caleb mused.  "Perhaps we are looking at things the wrong way."

"I should hope not," Essek sighed.  "We have spent so much effort already."

" Nein , this should only expand on what we have learned," Caleb reassured him.  "My thoughts were on the origins of said aurora.  Of how it is a distinct phenomena of our own star, its light echoing around us in all its beauty."

"Yes?" Essek could listen to this man speak for hours.

"What if we looked for such things out there, in our own theories?  What if the best way to find what we are looking for isn't to find the thing itself, but to find its light?  Find the way it reflects that love back out into the cosmos?"

The double meaning of their own situation was not lost on Essek, and he curled further into Caleb.

"That sounds like a brilliant idea."

The drive back to the harbor was full of the most loving quiet Essek had ever experienced.  No longer was he alone with his thoughts, no longer was he cursed to never have anyone he could trust.  He had finally found a home here on the ground, one that would bring him to the stars but would always call him back into his arms.

The Luxon Beacon seemingly purred beneath Essek's direction, Caleb still slightly squished within the limited seating capacity, but this time he laughed at the predicament.

Essek was still smiling when they rounded the final corner of his island, and the destruction came into view.

The dock was splintered, torn apart by what could only be machinery.  The long pathway upwards had been torn into nothing but rocks and sand, and though any remaining smoke had long since dissipated, Essek could still smell the horrible scent of charcoal and burnt wood coming from further inland.

" No… " he whispered, guiding his vessel as carefully as he could to any safe landing he could find.  The dock was a non-option, so in a panic he drove it directly into the small rocky beach nearby.  Before it could even stop, he was on his feet, running .

" Essek!" Caleb called after him, but he didn't stop.  The pathway was practically non-existent, but he didn't care, he needed to get to the top, he needed to see, he needed - 

Twice he slipped and almost fell, but his fingers dug their way spitefully into the dirt, pulling him upwards.  By the time he reached the summit, Caleb was also there, supporting him from below, and they both crested the hill, out of breath, to take in the scene.

The cottage was destroyed - burnt into a carefully controlled husk that Essek knew was designed to emit as little smoke as possible, so as not to alert authorities on the mainland.  Some of the embers were still burning hot, and the charcoaled remains smoldered.

But Essek didn't have a care in the world for the house.  He instead turned his focus to the lighthouse.

The main structure was completely intact, save the door, which had been split open and currently hung loosely on broken hinges.

"Essek, we must be careful," Caleb was warning him, a hand carefully reaching for his shoulder, but Essek ignored him completely, running straight for the entrance.  His previously quiet aches had returned in full force, but he didn't care, he didn't care about anything other than what awaited him at the top of those stairs.

He climbed them two at a time, scrambling at the wall, and as he got closer, he saw pieces of equipment scattered across various steps.  A sextant here, a container of sketching pencils there, and all the while he climbed.

The resulting sight was worse than he could imagine.

His entire study area was in ruins.  The table had been overturned, the crates holding it up now smashed into pieces.  The bookshelf had been crushed and shattered, the books within it shredded and scattered across the floor.  And within the mess, Essek's worst nightmare had come true.  The corkboard was scraped of its contents, as was the entirety of the wall.  All of his careful research, the thing he had tried to keep a secret for so long, was gone .

"Essek, we have to be - " came Caleb's voice, before he, too, crested the final stair, and his voice stuttered to a halt.

The ache within Essek's legs grew too much, and his legs buckled underneath him, sending him to his knees.

" It's gone ," he sobbed.  "All of it.  They took it.  It's gone."

Caleb was beside him in an instant, an arm around his shoulders, holding him tight.

"Essek, we cannot stay here," he implored him.  "They may still be here, wanting to take you as well."

"Why does it matter?" Essek asked in grief.  "They've taken what was most precious.  How could my life matter more?"

"Because you are my life too!" Caleb insisted, and though his voice was strong, Essek could hear his tears.  "And I cannot let them take you away."

Essek looked up at him, Caleb's eyes full of terror and worry, and he allowed himself to be pulled upwards.

"We need to get back to your boat," Caleb breathed heavily as Essek leaned on him for support.  "We need to - "

There was a loud bang from below - the sound of the door being shoved off its final hinges.  Essek's breath hitched in his throat.

"They're here," he whispered in horror.

Caleb faltered by the steps and took a step back.

"Are there any places to hide?" he asked.  Essek shook his head, and Caleb's wide eyes narrowed towards the descending staircase.

"Then," he growled, "I say we create some chaos."

He lowered Essek down nearby the main light in the middle of the room, which was currently automatically off in the daytime.

"Wait for my signal," Caleb told him, pulling the controls within reach.

"What are you planning?" Essek asked, fear still running within him, but something about the confidence the professor was showcasing now gave him reason to believe that everything would be alright.

"We are going to show them the brilliance of our star," Caleb said with a soft smile.

There were now audible footsteps coming upstairs, and Essek gripped the beacon's controls for dear life.  Caleb positioned himself just out of reach, behind the railing guarding the way down.  He held up five fingers, counting down.  Essek breathed heavily.

There were three of them.  None of whom he recognized, but Essek figured that would be the case.  These were the type of people who would never show their true faces, always hiding behind nondescript goons to do their dirty work.

Caleb waited silently behind them, his hand counting down to four.  The look in his eyes was distinct - trust me .

Essek did.  With everything he had.

The three figures spotted him almost instantly, incapacitated as he was, lying in the middle of the room.  One of them raised a club-looking weapon.  The other was reaching into their jacket for another.

Three .

Essek clung to the controls, his finger hovering just above the control.  He saw one of them grin.

Two .

Far away, in another life, this would have meant the end.  A body dumped in a harbor, research used against the world, terror and conflict wreaking havoc once more.

This time around, Essek was smart.  As was his partner.  And as the other goon drew out a gun, Essek could see the large amount of papers that had been haphazardly stuffed within the same pocket.

One .

Essek pressed the button with all the strength he had left, and above him, the lighthouse whirred to life.  The brilliant beacon, full of light and life and promise, blazed with glory, and their assailants threw up their arms to shield their eyes, yelling in pain and dropping their weapons

Caleb moved with a swiftness Essek had never seen, coming from behind, grabbing the club, and swinging forward.  It hit their backs with force, and in a few scant seconds, there were three unconscious bodies on the ground, and a winded Caleb, panting and shivering.

He looked over to Essek, who was wide-eyed and wishing nothing more than to break out into a fit of hysterical laughter.

"Their…their pocket…" he managed to gasp out, pointing.  "I think…they still have it."

Caleb dropped the weapon in an instant and crouched low, rifling through their jackets, while Essek turned off the beacon and slowly but surely pushed himself to his feet.

Caleb managed to scrounge up several hastily snatched papers, and handed them to Essek.  He desperately looked through them, but he knew in his heart it wasn't everything.

"Did they destroy the rest?" he asked morosely.  Caleb shrugged helplessly.

"We need to leave," he urged him.  "Whatever happened is done."

"They've won, Caleb," Essek said, gripping the torn pages in his hands.  "Even if they didn't succeed in stealing it, they've succeeded in destroying it."

One of the persons on the floor groaned and shifted, and Caleb grabbed Essek's arm.

"We will figure it all out on the safety of the mainland, ja ?" he said.  "You are safe.  I am safe.  That is all that matters to me.  Your body is here, alive and breathing, not floating in a harbor.  Who cares about our work, who cares about our studies?"

"I do, Caleb," Essek said softly.  "I care."

Caleb looked him fully in the eyes, then, and saw the tragedy of the wreckage around them reflecting back.  His face fell, and he embraced Essek tightly.

"Let us go home," he whispered.  "Let us find safety."

Essek allowed himself to be pulled along, back past the burned wreckage of the cottage, down the precarious bank, and onto the Luxon Beacon .

He was going to name his discovery that.

Now he never could.

Chapter Text

There was a grief stricken silence as Caleb closed the door to his home.  Essek knew that whoever those people were, they would never suspect this place.  They never saw Caleb's face, and besides - he had always worked alone.  Why on earth would he have a partner?

The reassurances of their safety did not help unload the heavy weight on his heart.  The entire route back here, he had clung to the papers they had managed to salvage.  A star chart, ripped in two.  An array of severed mathematical equations, completely useless without their counterparts.  Notes with ink that had been smeared into illegibility.

He had thought, for a moment, he had reason to hope.  But now, as he collapsed once more into the couch, as Caleb once more commenced on making tea and Frumpkin busied himself with making biscuits, even that flicker of hope had faded into nothing.

Caleb eventually settled in the seat across from him, offering the tea.  Essek took the mug but did not drink, staring at the floor.

"You were quite the athlete back there," he eventually remarked, desperate for another topic, and Caleb chuckled.

"The lighthouse did all of the work. I merely…acted as I could."

Essek let out a hollow laugh.

"Thank you for saving me."

"I would not leave you to them," Caleb said firmly.  "Chaos was finally on our side."

Essek was still gripping the shredded papers.  Caleb held out tentative hands.

"May I see?" he asked, and Essek relinquished them sadly.

"There is nothing to be gleaned.  It is all partial equations and incomplete notes."

Caleb tilted his head, examining what little remained.  He pulled the coffee table closer and spread them all out, moving each piece around like a puzzle.

" Mein freund ," he said.  "Things may not be as hopeless as you think."

He gestured for Essek to look.  He leaned forward, not understanding.

"For once, do not use your mind," Caleb instructed.  "Use your eyes."

Essek blinked once, twice, attempting to empty his mind of grief and anxiety and fear.  He found himself drifting, the images before him blurring, before sharpening back into place.

It was like a beautiful painting come to life.  The severed stars on the charts blended with the middle of the fractured equations.  The ink smears became numbers, the numbers became stars, the stars became words, and all of a sudden, there was magic.

Caleb was right - it didn't matter if their work was destroyed.  They were safe, and within both of them lay the solution.  Right beneath their fingertips.

"I told you I wanted to try to look at things through a different lens," Caleb breathed.  "A different way of thinking.  A way of viewing the entire problem with nothing but the naked eye."

He stood, as did Essek, and between the two of them, from this overhead perspective, the shattered and splintered remains of their work had turned into a whole work.  An answer.

"The aurora you mentioned," Essek said.  "It would have to come from here."

He pointed to Cassiopeia, trailing his finger along the curve of the constellation's course, eventually shifting into an equation that spelled out the proposed rotation of a potential satellite.

"And it would reflect here ."

The equation ceased, to be followed with smeared ink through which he could glimpse scattered words.  Notations, messy and inconsequential on their own, but pure and true within this beautiful new way of perception.

"'The heart of a star will show the way'," Essek read aloud, then turned to his companion.  "A bit melodramatic, don't you think, dear?"

Caleb was grinning.

"We didn't lose anything ," he said, smiling.  "It was all right here.  We just didn't see it before.  We never looked ."

"We never needed to."  Essek reached out and grasped Caleb's hand.  "Do you wish to now?  My star?"

" Mein stern ," Caleb protested.  "That's my affection."

"Then you are my beacon," Essek responded.  "I am saved by you, Professor Widogast.  I thank our discovery and all the stars that you made me drop that plant."

Caleb looked about ready to protest the true fault of that fateful day, but Essek cut him off with a kiss.

"Are we ready to share this with the world?" Essek asked, partially relieved, partially terrified.

"Perhaps," Caleb answered.  Their foreheads were together, each holding the others' hand.  "Or perhaps we can continue our study.  Figure out more.  Discover more."

"I would like that," Essek sighed.

They both collapsed into the couch, never straying from holding each other, as they continued to look over their research, and Essek's body had never felt more content.

He was far away from his old life.  He didn't need to run anymore.

He was exactly where he needed to be.