After Times of Tender Agony: Ch. 38

Title

Notes:

Just sending this in early since I won't have time to post and edit it later^^

I explain it in that first bit, but a week has passed between the previous chapter and this one :)

*****

The next week passed relatively normally, Nia, Artham, Sara, and Jebsun taking turns spending time by Janner's bedside while the others spent their time otherwise preoccupied outside or at the Bookstore or with the Shoosters or baking, the list went on and on. Jebsun said Janner was improving and everyone (including Janner) was very glad to hear it. Breathing was still an issue, but the fever was gone, and he was eating and drinking better. Everyone credited Nia with the turn of events, but she refused to take it. The likelihood of her having such a profound effect was unlikely.

*****

There was something oddly familiar and strangely specific about the way Janner found himself urged awake, what with the manner of first being pulled from sleep, then slowly hearing a tune and murmurs, and eventually the uncomfortable but strangely nostalgic notes, “And today we’ll celebrate you.”

Forcing his eyes open, Janner did his best to brush exhaustion and the struggle to breath aside. “Mama?” he whispered, her face blurred.

Leaning down, she kissed his forehead. “Happy birthday, Janner.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, wondering if he was delirious and imagining things again. There was no way it was his birthday—surely four moons hadn’t passed since they’d left Anniera? Or maybe he’d just heard her wrong, though he couldn’t think of anything else she might’ve said.

Nia laughed. “Janner, a mother is always sure. And I have Sara and Artham to back me up, too.”

Then it must have been four moons, four full moons since he’d been in Anniera. Wouldn’t the people wonder? Wouldn’t they grow suspicious? And if everything went as Jebsun preferred, they wouldn’t leave Skree for another two moons at the very least, and it would take nearly another moon to cross the Sea.

It was so long, far too long for Nia to be away from Anniera, for Artham to be away, for him to be away. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair to the people. If Kal had just let Leeli become Queen, it wouldn’t have been an issue, none at all. Maybe he wouldn’t have come to Skree for the conference in the first place, and if he had and still been kidnapped, it would’ve been just the issue of a missing Annieran lord. 

Janner closed his eyes, tired of thinking about what could have been, because the fact of that matter was that it wasn’t. He was tired of other things too, tired of imposing on everyone, tired of the constant background noise in his mind of fear and anxiety, tired of feeling awful, just as he always did–at least for the past few years—on his birthday. He wished it was in the spring or summer or even fall so everyone could actually enjoy it. As it was, his family usually spent his birthday worrying he would die, and he spent it miserable and barely able to breathe.

It seemed nothing was different that year.

“Can’t we just…celebrate in the spring like we usually do?” he finally mumbled after suppressing a cough. What he wanted now was to sleep again, because he liked to think that people worried about him less when he was sleeping. He couldn’t bear the thought of telling Nia that, though, because that fell into the category of imposing on people, and he did that quite enough.

Nia’s hand rested on his head. “We will, and it’ll be the best celebration we’ve had for you, but I still want to do a little something for you today. Just like we always do.”

He didn’t exactly want “the best celebration,” because it seemed strange to celebrate him when it was everyone else’s hard work and sleepless nights that kept him alive. But, again, he didn’t want to argue. He didn’t have the energy for arguing anyway. Opening his eyes a crack, Janner forced himself to stay awake. “Like what?”

“Something small, just a cake and a few presents. We’ll do it later; maybe you’ll feel a little better then. I just…wanted to wake you up like I always do.” He could hear the smile in her words, and he responded with a light, tired one of his own. 

Sighing, Janner whispered, “Thanks, Mama.”

“I’ll be here when you wake up,” she said softly, kissing his forehead again. “And if I’m not here, Sara will be.”

*****

Janner was certain the fever had mostly dispersed by the time he woke again of his own volition around lunchtime, and though his chest felt as though it was the heaviest part of his body and any fraction of a mis-timed breath could easily send him into a painful coughing fit, all in all, he didn’t feel absolutely terrible, which was certainly a win.

He wanted to walk to the sitting room where they would be having the “party,” but two obstacles blocked him, the first being Jebsun and Artham, who, for once, agreed, and didn’t want him expending too much of his strength and causing a setback, and the larger obstacle, which was that he didn’t actually have the strength to walk to the sitting room, even with the help of the cane—thank goodness, they weren’t forcing him to reduce himself to a crutch anymore—or the use of another person’s arm. That second obstacle technically derailed the first one, since if he didn’t have the strength to walk, worrying about causing a setback by wasting his strength was pointless. If he really thought about it, leaving the bed and going to the sitting room and staying awake and out there was far more likely to cause a setback than anything else. 

All that aside, he did not protest when Artham came in, smiled broadly at both him and Sara, and slipped one arm behind his back, the other underneath his knees—it did hurt, it did pull at the aching, but he didn’t complain, since pain was normal—scooping him up effortlessly.

As they headed toward the sitting room, he was sure he had never seen before, and Sara walked nearby, keeping pace and smiling at him, the sudden thought that he would likely never be able to carry her this way, in bridal style, flitted into his heart, and a measure of grief crashed over the day.

Nia looked so happy, thought, bustling in the kitchen, her cheeks glowing from the warmth of the stove and joy, calling out a greeting to him, laughter filling it. She had insisted on decorating the cake even more lavishly, in terms of dyes, than she would have had they been in Anniera, and though Janner didn’t really want her to go to so much trouble, he hadn’t the heart to tell her ‘no.’ Artham was clearly thrilled, he had already proven, as was Sara, and Jebsun, too, looked relatively optimistic as he tucked a blanket around Janner after Artham set him on the sofa gently.

“I’ll be going now,” he said quietly, smiling. “Just briefly,” he added, likely in response to Sara’s start of protest. “I think you can survive the afternoon without me, and I’m sure all of you want to spend the time together.

Janner wasn’t exactly sure how to respond, whether to insist Jebsun stay or allow him to leave, as he seemed to deem appropriate. Then he caught sight of Nia, out of the corner of his eye, and he saw the way her face fell just a little. The choice had been made for him, it seemed.

“Wait,” he said, halting Jebsun in his retreat. “Please, stay. You should.”

“Yes, please,” Nia added, sounding queenly.

Artham squinted suspiciously briefly, muttered something Janner couldn’t exactly catch, but he thought it sounded derogatory. “I suppose…you’ve kept Janner alive, and that counts for something.”

Jebsun snorted. “Well, Artham, thank you for your abundant faith in me.”

Giggling, Sara rolled her eyes. “Oh, stop it! Jebsun, you might as well stay, especially considering you’re coming back to Anniera with us.”

It sounded as though Artham begrudgingly admitted that was a good thing, Janner found himself not all that surprised, but Nia…when Janner glanced over at his mother, he saw shock, good shock, but shock nonetheless, written all over her face, shock that paused her efforts to decorate the cake. In a second, it was gone, and Janner almost thought he had imagined it but for the slightly darker shade of red adorning her cheeks.

“Cake’s ready!” she said suddenly, wiping her hands on her apron and brushing a few strands of hair out of her face. “Now, Janner, I know you don’t like it too sweet, so it isn’t, but are we doing cake, dinner, or presents first?”

“Dinner sounds great,” he responded, after thinking for a moment, because he realized that for perhaps the first time in quite a while, he was hungry want wanted to eat something, and other than a throbbing headache, the aching of his leg, the struggle to breathe, and the near-constant threat of a coughing fit, he honestly didn’t feel too terrible.

*****

The presents she and Sara and Artham had gotten for Janner were simple, thoughtful items that wouldn't be too hard to transport. Artham had bound a journal for him; Nia had nearly forgotten he knew how to do that. The cover was hide, gorgeously carved, and she knew it had taken time. Time was something they had, at least.

She had spent hours scouring the bookstore over the past week, looking everywhere and anywhere for a single volume. It wasn't until the day before that she had found it, You're a Gift to Me and the Maker, a children's book with pictures, one she had read to him and Kalmar and Leeli when they were all little.* Janner had nearly begun crying when he saw it, and while that hadn't necessarily been her goal, it hoped it would serve as a steppingstone to convincing him to open up. She still needed to work through that.

Sara had given him something she was sure he already had: a thin, gold chain with a small Annieran crest on it. "I found it when we were searching," she had said simply as he released it from the tissue that held it. Artham had leaned over and explained he had either lost it or it had been taken from him during his captivity.

As he had fingered it, looking at it as if he was unsure what exactly he was to do with it, Nia couldn't help but remember the sheer uncountable number of times she had seen him fiddling with it out of nervousness. He hadn't been free of anxiety all these months. What had he done about it?

She sighed at the memory. Even after she spoke with Janner, he was going to have a dreadful number of memories and thoughts and...and everything to work through. She prayed he wouldn't just pretend he was alright.

Nia briefly turned her attention back to the quiet of the kitchen and away from her musings. She was alone, or essentially so, as she washed the dishes from dinner and cake and tidied up the kitchen. Janner had gone to sleep over an hour ago, tired but not exhausted, and Sara and Artham had left for the Only Inn not twenty minutes earlier, the former offering to help her clean but met with a polite refusal, because, honestly, Nia loved cleaning. She did her best thinking then. 

That left Jebsun, of course, in terms of people being around, and he wasn’t even exactly there, he had either retreated to his room upstairs or headed to Janner’s room so he could monitor him and make sure he stayed alive.

As she scrubbed one of the pans that the crusty bits of the cake clung more stubbornly to, she couldn’t help but wonder if anyone had seen her reactions that evening regarding Jebsun. It’d been so long since she’d felt a desire to react in such a way, she’d forgotten how to camouflage it easily. If anyone had seen it, she supposed it would have been Janner. He had become so much quieter with each passing year, yet more and more perceptive. She wasn’t sure if she liked it all that much. She remembered when he was little, when it was impossible to get him to stop talking.

The person she was almost certain hadn’t seen it was Jebsun. Men never truly paid attention to women’s reactions to anything, unless it concerned them of the immediate, and even then, the changes of them noticing were slim. Not that she faulted Jebsun for it, goodness, no. Neither of them had made any indications of something that she would not dignify with a name, and therefore there was no reason he should have been watching her. 

“It almost looks as though you’re aiming to scrub the bottom out of that pan,” Jebsun said, the unexpectedness of his voice and presence making Nia jump and color. She was glad he couldn’t read her mind, though she hoped he wouldn’t be able to read her face as well.

She laughed his comment off lightly. “I promise, I’m not trying to destroy a piece of your good cooking ware.”

“Is it good?’ he asked, cocking his head, slipping one hand into his pocket. 

Nia smiled. “The make is Stonemen,” she replied, tapping the wet pan. “They made some of the best when my mother was a girl, though I don’t believe they’re in business anymore. Hollish, of course, though I’m not sure how it got over here, considering the lack of continental contact for the past while, at least until recently.”

Jebsun nodded and glanced around, as if he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do or say, but he kept opening his mouth, just a little bit, as if he certainly wanted to do or say something.

“How is Janner doing?” she asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. It was strange that she found it uncomfortable. Normally, the silence was a wonderful thing, specifically the silence of night, a cozy sort of silence blanketed in natural darkness. Right now, though, the silence was not comfortable, and she wanted to speak with Jebsun.

“Pretty good,” he said, nodding. “I mean, no worse than before. His breathing isn’t exactly painful to listen to, but the cough is, and knowing how hard it is for him to breathe isn’t the most pleasant. Other than that, he seems as though he’s doing as well as he can be.”

Smiling, Nia began drying the last few of the dishes. “As his mother and considering how he’s usually doing this time of year, I am very glad to hear that.”

Furrowing his brow, Jebsun came a bit nearer. “And how is he normally doing this time of year?”

Nia shook her head and stacked a few dishes. “Always much worse than this. We’ve done our best, but I must confess, I’m not the most proficient at using herbs and roots, and unfortunately no one near us is either. What herbs have you been using to help him?”

Jebsun’s gaze drifted upward, as if recalling what all he was giving Janner. “Elder, valaria, tulsi, and meric among others.” Then he came over and put away the plates she had just stacked. “In terms of finding a good healer, though, why not go beyond, further? To the Hollish or other cities and towns in Anniera?”

Sighing, Nia wrung out the rag she had been using. “I am, in fact, Hollish, and while I’ve spoken to a few  of my friends and asked them to speak to their friends in a non-disclosing manner, the issue is that most people who get as sick as he do are very young or very weak or very old, and they’re expected to die, so rather than putting time into healing them, people just find herbs to ease comfort while passing.” Nia had become increasingly aware of the way her anger rose as she spoke, and by the end, her words snapped with frustration. 

Jebsun only watched her, nodding, and she could see frustration and sympathy glinting in his eyes. “Well, I do know how to use herbs and roots to treat patients, not just to ‘ease their passing.’ I want people to live, if that’s at all physically possible.”

Smiling a little, Nia whispered, “Thank you.”

Jebsun nodded. Then their eyes met, a particular sort of meeting that send chills down Nia’s arms. She held her breath, wondering if the look on her face was the same as Jebsun’s. It was a manner in which another had not looked at her in years.

She came out from behind the counter, not worried but perhaps guilty, because Janner was still lying sick in bed, and here she was being selfish and trying to grab and opportunity for herself, and—

What might have been her uncomfortable refusal was interrupted by a vicious knock on the door, a terrific banging that wouldn’t cease once it began. 

Jebsun pulled away, and as she followed him, Nia could see the change in his posture, the rapid switch from relaxed to tense. He carried a candle, lighting the way. The lock clicked as he opened the door, and out in the night, Nia could make out a small, silhouetted figure—likely a child, then. 

“Dr. Jebsun,” the child—a boy, it sounded like—said nervously. “I did something horrible, and now one of your patients is in danger!”

“Calm down,” Jebsun said gently. “Come inside, alright? Let’s start off with greetings first,” he said as the boy shuffled inside, messy, brown hair framing his childish face. “Your mother told me you were missing again a month or so ago, Chathan. Is this the same trouble as then, or is it a new one?”

Despite the late hour, they headed into the sitting room and sat down on the sofa, and instinctively, Nia set the water to boil for tea and got out a plate holding the remainder of the cookies she had made for Janner’s small party. 

“It's the same trouble, and it’s bad,” Chathan whispered, mouthing Nia a thank you as she put the plate of cookies down. “Your patient, a horrible man is after him, and he’s coming, he’s coming soon. And it's all my fault.”

Jebsun furrowed his brow, and horror shot through Nia’s mind. “What is the patient's name, Chathan?” she asked urgently. At this point, she had viritually no reason to doubt or question it, but she wanted to be sure.

Chathan glanced at Jebsun, then her, then back to Jebsun. “Dr. Jebsun, did you marry when I was gone? If so, congratulations!”

Nia knew she turned a shade of beet red (Jebsun did as well, which made her feel less horrible), but Jebsun handled it. “No, Chathan, this is…my assistant. Now, what is the name of the patient who is in danger?”

Gulping, Chathan quickly forced out, “It’s Janner, Janner Wingfeather, the one who’s King of Anniera!”

*****

Notes:

*this is solely because my mother got me a copy of "Just in Case You Ever Wonder," by Max Lucado, for Christmas. I didn't even read the book, I just read the first page, and I started crying right then and there. I also decided right then and there that I wanted to put it into the story. Honestly, I wish I had more time to dedicate to writing the scene, but I don't 😭

Okay, so the reason why Nia hasn't revealed herself yet is because by Chathan's first words, it seems like he's saying the Overseer's coming for Janner. Chathan is saying it's partially his fault something happened to Janner. Nia is Janner's mother. Chathan is less likely to be truthfully forthcoming if he's aware that the mother of the person he indirectly hurt is right there. So that's why she's keeping quiet^^

Let me know if there's anything noncanonical!