After Times of Tender Agony: Ch. 44

The Monster Appears

Notes:

Posting this early since I don't think I'll get another chance to! :DD

*****

The first week on board the ship had not been going well. Sara had hovered between keeping her distance and trying to approach him, and he hadn’t minded the latter, but anytime their conversation veered near what could accidentally reference the Overseer, he cut off the conversation. Every time he did it, he felt terrible. He should have simply changed the subject, he knew. But he was too tired to change the subject. His mind was exhausted, rent to shreds by the past months, and his nerves were shot and his emotions on edge. Anxiety roiled in his heart and mind constantly and made eating and sleeping miserable. Even Nia had tried pressing several times, but each time her question hit in places where if he were to answer them, the Overseer would be involved somehow.

Those conversations, too, he canceled before they could even begin. 

He was retreating, he knew, retreating more than he had before, when he had been with Jebsun before learning Sara was alive. He had responded favorably to Jebsun. He had reacted somewhat. Now numbness had crept over him, a vibrating numbness that wouldn’t allow him true peace. He wasn’t spending the days in bed, he couldn’t do that. He hid in a corner of the lower deck—the one their cabins were on, though fairly far away from them—that happened to have a glass-sealed port hole. The odd splashing and white and green and blue mass of foam and water became the subject of his fixation, though in reality he did not see it: he either chose not to think about anything or tried dispelling his thoughts. The latter unfortunately happened far more often, quite obviously after a stream of thoughts on which he did not want to focus. 

If he kept up with the routine for much longer, people were going to get worried, he knew. But what other options did he have? He didn’t have options. They could either be worried about him and angry with him or potentially slaughtered in the night. 

Initially he had wanted nothing more than to explain himself, then to be able to wipe the frustration and irritation off Sara and Nia and Artham’s faces by telling them just why he was doing what he was doing. Now he just wanted them to stop asking, because he was tired and spent, and he was scared that if they asked too many times, exhaustion and lack of will would win out, and the secrets would all come tumbling out, and then they wouldn’t be safe. 

He prayed that wouldn’t happen. 

Greston startled him one day, his head popping into his line of sight, passing over the barrels and crates creating a sort of barricade from the rest of the ship. 

“Have you made any wedding plans?” he asked gently, but Janner still jolted in surprise. “I’m sorry,” Greston apologized. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Janner took a shaky breath and closed his eyes. “You didn’t scare me. I just got startled.” It was true. Sort of.

“So, wedding plans?” Greston tried again. 

Running his fingers through his hair, Janner smiled bitterly. “We haven’t really made any.”

Greston arched an eyebrow. “Janner, it’s been four moons. I know there were some interruptions, but you haven’t made any? No wonder Sara’s upset.”

Turning his head, Janner shifted his gaze toward Greston and actually looked at him. “Is it that obvious?”

Greston shrugged. “I haven’t told anyone and no one's talking about it, if that's what you're asking. You know how it goes: if one member of the crew’s noticed, they all know, but I haven’t heard anyone talking about it.”

Nodding semi-gratefully, Janner went back to looking out at the sea. “Thanks.”

“Janner.” There was a new tone in Greston’s voice, one Janner had never heard before. “It’s been four moons. She won’t wait forever. Try talking with her about it. How bad could it be?’

It could be very bad. It could be terrible. She might be angry. She might insist on him talking about what had happened. She might force him to spill a secret that was keeping everyone on board alive.

At the same time, though, he owed her. He owed her so much. 

“Okay,” he finally said, wrangling the cane and forcing himself up from the deck with a bit of difficulty. Greston ended up helping him, and Janner found himself only minding a little bit. “I’ll go talk to her about it.”

Greston smiled and nodded as he limped off. “Maker be with you, Janner.”

That nearly stopped him in his tracks, and while it didn’t, he couldn’t stop thinking about it as he made his slow way past random crew members flitting about, down the stairs, around Artham who eyed him with concern, and to Sara’s room. 

Maker be with him. Why did he keep forgetting the Maker? Why did it take someone else’s mentioning of Him for him to even remember? Why did He seem so distant? Why couldn’t he feel His Presence?

Janner knew the answer without even having to process the question. It was his own fault, too. He hadn’t reached out to the Maker, not really. He hadn’t cried out to Him. He hadn’t begged for help when he should have, he hadn’t honored Him or thanked Him when it was quite obviously due. They’d grown distant, somehow, they’d grown distant over perhaps one of the most difficult times of his life. 

The cruel irony in it broke his heart.

He knew why he had done it, too. He felt guilty. He was guilty. He was guilty of doubting the Maker, guilty of harboring anger toward Him, guilty of doubting Him, guilty of very nearly cursing Him. In his stupidity, he thought the Maker had betrayed him, as if such a thing were possible. In his terror, he had failed to trust Him. He wasn’t even sure if he really trusted Him now. 

Maker, he whispered in his heart as he raised his arm to knock on Sara’s door. Please, give me the words. Help me. I don’t know what’s going to happen if I have a conversation, a real conversation with Sara, but please don’t let me lose her. I don’t know if I’ll be able to stand it.

Holding his breath, he knocked. The door opened, and half of Sara’s face appeared. The one diamond she revealed to him lit up in an instant. “Janner, please, come in,” she said tenderly, and she opened the door wider so he could come through. 

She gestured toward the chair at her small desk, and he nodded, then waited for her settled herself on her bed before he sat, leaning the cane against the desk.

“I was wondering,” he said after an awkward minute of silence, in which they looked at everything in the room, including each other. “Do you want to talk about wedding plans?”

Sara’s mouth dropped open, and she stared at him in surprise. For a few moments, Janner panicked, his mind racing as he realized he had said the wrong thing, he shouldn’t have begun with that subject, it had been stupid of him, so stupid. She wasn’t ready to talk about that; they hadn’t talked at all of their relationship in months, not really. 

Soon, though, the perfect circle became an upside-down rainbow, and her blue eyes sparkled. “Janner, if you think you’re ready, I’d love to talk about it. But if you’re not…we can go slower, alright? Talking about something simpler than marriage, that’s alright.”

Janner furrowed his brow. “Something simpler?”

She rose from the bed and came closer, moving to stand behind him. In a moment, she was leaning over him, her chin tucked over his shoulder, her hands clasped and resting on his chest. “Janner,” she whispered in his ear. “Are you ready to marry me?”

His lips parted in surprise; he cocked his head, uncertain how to answer her. “I was,” he murmured once he had gathered his thoughts. “When I put that ring on your finger, I was ready, Sara, I promise, I was. I wouldn’t have proposed if I wasn’t ready. I wouldn’t’ve given you that hope if I wasn’t ready. But now, now—”

She shook her head and unclasped her hands, moving her right and placing a finger over his lips. “Shhh. Janner, it’s alright. I’ll wait. I can wait. I’ll wait for you. I would love to wait for you.”

Janner’s throat burned, and as his eyes smarted, he blinked rapidly, trying to keep from crying. He didn’t want to cry now. Sara didn’t deserve to have to deal with him and his stupid tears and emotions. 

She leaned into him a little more anyway, the pressure soothing.

“We should start with why you think you don’t deserve my love,” she ventured after several minutes. 

Janner froze. He had never hinted at that. He had never talked about that with her. And that veered dangerously near the Overseer, far too near, far too dangerously. He had to stop this. He had to stop this conversation before he got the entire crew killed.

“Mama gave me a few tips,” Sara explained gently, when he didn’t speak. “She didn’t tell me everything, don’t worry. She left that for you. But the guidelines are very much appreciated. I suppose it really isn't a simple thing to talk about, but we need to.”

Janner shook his head rapidly, making himself dizzy. “No, you don’t get it,” he fumbled, all the words in his mind scattering. He couldn’t think; why did he feel like he was suffocating? Planting one hand on the desk, he pulled away from her, standing unsteadily. “I can’t….I can’t tell you why. I’m not allowed to.”

“Why not?” she asked, puzzled, her eyes flashing for a moment, some of the gentleness slipping away. 

He had to get away. He had to leave. He couldn’t stay there, he couldn’t risk hurting her by telling her the truth. But if he left, he would hurt her anyway. “I just can’t,” he whispered, burying his face in his hands. He couldn’t leave her, but he couldn’t stay, either. 

Light touch lit on his shoulder, and he flinched, the touch burning him. It’s only Sara’s hand, his mind told him, but it wasn’t the sort of action accompanied by thought. 

“Why not?” she asked him again, her tone desperate now. He hated hearing her desperate. When Sara was desperate, there was a fear, a grief, an anger in her words. They overflowed with everything not associated with her, with things that were the make of nightmares.

Shaking his head, Janner drew in a trembling breath and sobbed once. “I can’t.”

“Janner Esben Wingfeather, I deserve to know!” she whispered hotly, her words angry. 

Now she was angry. Sara was angry. Sara was never angry. His mind buzzed in horror, in terror, agony at the thought of Sara’s anger. And yet he deserved it. He deserved it more than anything in Aerwiar. The anger and the truth in the words only hurt more because of it. 

“I am your friend, I am your fiancée*, I am practically family,” she hissed. “And you say can’t tell me why you’re not willing to keep our relationship going forward? Janner—” her voice broke. “Janner, if you’re not willing to do that, I don’t know if we’re going to make it. We have to communicate to have a relationship, we have to talk to each other, we have to share our hearts. And if you can’t share your heart, if you can’t share what’s plaguing you, if you can’t share what’s tormenting you when I’ve asked you to, we…we might need to take a break. A long break. Maybe an indefinite one.”

“No,’ Janner said, his fingers slipping to his hair, tugging at it in panic, fire, fear, agony burning in his mind. “No, we can’t. We can’t do that. We can’t—”

“Well it seems like our only choice!” Sara cried, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Janner, I don’t know what to do! I’ve been trying, I’ve been trying all these months to show you that I love you, that you’re safe with me, that I’m here for you, and you keep pushing me away. You’ve done nothing but push me away, other than cut me off and shut me down and look away and ignore me and break my heart over and over and over again.” 

Now, tears streamed down her cheeks, and she didn’t wipe them away, and identical tears rolled down Janner’s face, and he wanted nothing more than to wipe her tears away, to pull her into his arms, to right every wrong he’d done to her, but he didn’t know if she’d accept.

“And I just don’t know what to do!” she wailed. “I’m at my wits end, Janner, I’ve prayed more prayers than I can count for more hours than I’ll ever recall, I’ve cried out in the night, in the day, anytime I’ve been breaking. It’s breaking me, Janner. I can’t handle this much longer, I can’t—”

All the while, horrible things had flooded into Janner’s mind and heart, horrible things he couldn’t name, horrible things without a title or address, but they were awful, monstrous, terrifying, breaking his heart and mind and filling him with anger and uncertainty and terror and taking over all sense or reason, and he stood, and he faced her, and he hated himself for doing it, but he couldn’t think. “He’ll kill you and them if I tell you!” he shouted. “He’ll kill you all, and it’ll have been my fault, and then they’ll be dead and you’ll be gone and everything will have fallen apart and—”

Trembling, shaking so much he couldn’t believe he still stood, he reached for her and pulled her into a suffocating embrace, her silky hair damp with tears brushing his cheek, because...because she thought he didn’t love her anymore. And it was all his fault, all this mess was his doing, it was going to get worse and worse and worse, but in this moment, in this desperate moment in which they both wept some of the tears they’d stopped and bottled up for months, maybe he could make just a fraction of it right.

Sara didn’t say anything for while, she just clung to him, her breath coming in shaky gasps, her tears mingling with his. “Who?” she finally choked, her heart resigned, her words trembling. “Who is going to kill us?”

“The Overseer,” Janner whispered, all his strength leaving him as he sank to the floor, Sara with him. Now he was tired, so, so very tired. He closed his eyes, not wanting to say anymore, not wanting to think about the Overseer, about the horrors, but when Sara laid her head against his chest and hummed soothingly, he knew she urged him to continue. 

Janner could do nothing but comply, because he’d been doing it for months, because he was too tired to fight her, because he’d already said the monster’s name, it was out, and they were all going to die. He at least owed her the truth before that happened. “He snuck on board. Said if I breathed a word about him, he’d start killing. One by one, until only you and I were left. And then he’d kill one of us and leave the other, grieving, angry.”

The humming stopped, and brief emptiness of ringing took its place. “Is that why—”

“That’s why I couldn’t tell you what I promised I would,” he murmured, tears filling his eyes. 

Sara relaxed against him once more, though how she could relax at such a time, Janner didn’t know. “Nothing’s stopping you now.”

So, taking a shuddering breath, he told her, he told her how he’d clung to the belief she’d find him, that she wouldn’t stop looking, that the Maker would help her find him, that everything would be alright in the end. He told her how as the days and beatings went by, the belief had faded and became a hope, then a fantasy, then a garish lie he’d toyed with once. He told her how he’d doubted her, how he’d cried out in the night, furious with her, angry, tormented by her memory. He told her how he condemned her failures, her betrayal. And then the Overseer had brought the dress. The dress she’d worn when he proposed to her. His heart had broken, his mind had shattered, twisted, fragmented, melded into some cracked form that didn’t really work right. He’d failed to avenge her by killing the Overseer. Even worse, though, he’d failed her. He had lost faith that she cared, believed she hated him, believed she didn’t love him anymore.

“And then you came,” he whispered, tears rolling down his cheeks, slipping into her hair. She pulled back so she could look at him, her eyes filled with tears, her brow furrowed in grief. “You came, and I couldn’t believe it, and it was such a relief. And then I remembered what I’d done to you, how near I’d come to hating you, how stupid I’d been, how cruel, how monstrous. No matter what you did, no matter how kindly you spoke to me, I couldn’t bring myself to give it back, because I thought I’d committed the greatest act of treason against us. I thought I didn’t love you anymore because of what I’d done, I thought I’d trampled our relationship in a way that it could never heal. Sara, I’m so, so sorry. You’re welcome to hate me if you like but—”

His words and breath were cut off when she flung herself at him embracing him chokingly, trembling. “Janner,” she whispered. “Janner, of course it breaks my heart you lost hope so miserably. But I don’t blame you. I love you. It’s alright. I forgive you, I forgive you for anything you think you’ve done or thought or said. It doesn’t matter. It’s alright. It’s finally alright.”

But Janner knew it wasn’t. Despite the warmth of her arms around him, despite the gentle murmurs of comfort in his ear, despite the temptation of peace, his heart and mind still shook with fear and horror and raced with panic and certainty of doom. 

And the next moment, his frantic worry was confirmed. 

“Now what do we have ‘ere, two former Tools gettin’ along? Well, this should be fun ta destroy.”

*****

Notes:

OH NO IT'S THE OVERSEER!!! The good news is that now Sara knows what Janner's been keeping from her so, hey, I did something right in this chapter! 😄

Please let me know if there's anything wonky (or noncanonical). I didn't get to edit this as thoroughly as I would have preferred 😅