Rather than Resenting: Ch. 13

Gentle Insistence

Notes:

This chapter was one way and then I said, "nah, let's do something else that's better." Or at least something that makes more sense. Also I decided Janner needed to sleep. So I decided to let him sleep. And not be miserable at that dinner. So this ended up being a sweet chapter with Janara^^

UPDATED: I forgot to have Sara taking care of his hand 😅

*****

In the end, Janner decided he would change out of his still-damp clothes. The chances of Sara scolding him about spending so much time in them in the first place was painfully high, but he was freezing and it wasn’t helping him manage to stay in a better mood. Granted, it was keeping him awake, but he had plenty of other things to do that job. Like his obnoxious mind that didn’t know when to quit. Like people asking him to talk about things when he didn’t want to. Like representatives and delegates who still needed to see the diplomatic side of him.

When he first slipped into their bedroom, he saw no Sara. At first he was puzzled, then relieved beyond belief. He couldn’t bear to answer her questions at that moment, he just couldn’t. And if she wasn’t there, there was a much better chance he would actually be able to force himself to go back downstairs and join everyone else for supper.

He rummaged through their bureau (divided in half so his clothes were on the left side and hers were on the right) for a collared shirt and a decently warm sweater vest, then searched through the drawers below it (again, his on the left, hers on the right) for pants and socks.

He set to changing, finished, and nearly made it out the door with his damp clothes that he could put in the laundry chute so Sara would be none the wiser, when her familiar, sweet voice addressed him. “Janner? What are you doing?”

He winced at the unfortunate circumstances and turned around guilty. Not that he thought it was unfortunate to see Sara, but he had hoped the many hours he had spent in damp clothes would go unnoticed. He didn’t want her to panic. It was the last thing she needed. And he didn’t want to be tempted to stay when he really couldn’t.

“Just changing, that’s all,” he replied innocently. The laughs and giggles of children from somewhere on the other side of the door she had come through seemed to make his words into a joke.

Sara didn’t seem convinced and raised one eyebrow, shifting Cerlon a bit in her arms. “Why do your clothes look wrinkled as if they dried after becoming damp and wet?”

“Because,” Janner faltered. “They…got wet at the port?” It wasn’t a complete falsehood.

She eyed him suspiciously for a second before compassion filled her perfectly blue diamond eyes. “Janner, I already know you didn’t actually meet the Skreean representatives, and I also know who wanted to speak with you earlier.” Her voice was soft, gentle, understanding, and so painfully inviting that it took all of Janner’s willpower he still had left to resist pouring everything out to her or at least to somebody in that very moment. 

“Yeah, well, I can’t do anything about it right now, can I?” He replied, his words coming out more harshly than he intended to and a bit more loudly. Cerlon fussed a little, and something strange flickered through Sara’s eyes. A wave of panic crashed over him and he began hastily apologizing. “Sara, I’m so, so sorry. I, I didn’t—”

“Hey,” Sara’s voice was calm and gentle, and she came closer, reaching up and cupping his cheek in her hand. “Janner, it’s alright. You don’t need to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He closed his eyes and let out his breath slowly, willing every single emotion to just slip into that bottle he had reserved specifically for it. Unfortunately the bottle had gotten too full for simply slipping, and he had to shove them inside before jamming the cork back on top. 

“You don’t know that,” he whispered, his eyes filled with tears that he did his best to blink back. “You don’t know the thoughts that raced through my mind just a few hours ago. And they haven’t left yet.”

Sara looked him intently in the eyes, and he saw nothing but love written on her face. Maybe there was a hint of concern, but she hid it well. “How many times do I have to tell you that those things don’t change how much I love you?”

Janner shook his head. There was more roiling inside his mind than she thought, and he was sure that if she really knew what it was, her words would have been different. It wasn’t like last time when he had only felt guilty because he had lost Kalmar. This time he was angry, he was bitter, he knew it, and he was too scared and too attached to it to give it up.

“I know how many times you’ve said it,” he replied quietly. He could count them. Sometimes he did. It never really helped reassure him, though.

“And you’re not going to forget?” Her eyes told him how intent she was and how willing she was to trap him in their room until he agreed, so he shook his head in response.

“No, I won’t forget it.” He was being truthful. He wouldn’t forget she had said it and he wouldn’t forget how many times she had said it. Believing it was the problem.

Stroking Cerlon’s cheek gently, she nodded with approval. “Good, then.” 

Sara was silent for a minute, and tired though he was, Janner made a point of searching her eyes and studying her face and trying to figure out what she was thinking about. When she spoke, he found out he had been correct.

“I think you should stay here and get to bed early,” she said softly, as gently yet as forcefully as anyone could.

Janner wasn’t sure it was possible for anyone other than Sara to manage both of those qualities in her tone simultaneously. “There’ll be questions though,” he protested half-heartedly, even though he truly did want to listen to her and just skip the evening meal. It wasn’t as though he was hungry, anyway.

Sara waved his concern off with her hand. “Let them ask questions. Tell them the truth: you didn’t get much sleep last night because you were awake worrying about the baby.”

Janner considered this briefly before shaking his head. “But what if—”

“Shh,” she hushed him gently. “Janner, you're about to fall asleep on your feet, and it's going to be just the same if not worse if you decide to actually go through with attending that supper.”

“But—”

She looked at him imploringly this time. “If you won't do it for yourself, at least do it because I'm asking you to.”

He sighed and bit his lip. He couldn’t resist if she asked him to. That would just be wrong. He wasn’t willing to take the chance of making her upset by simply checking off a line in the diplomatic box. “Alright. But only because you're the one who's asking.”

“Lovely!” Her smile was enormous, and Janner knew everything was worth that. “You get changed again while I'm taking these.” She motioned for him to hand her his wrinkled clothes he had been clutching tightly the entire time. He hesitated for a moment, wondering how she would juggle Cerlon and the clothes without dropping one or the other. Her eyes twinkled, though, and in an effort to assuage his guilt she said. “I have several little helpers, remember?”

Shrieks and giggles in the background confirmed her point, and he sighed and handed them over reluctantly. “Fine.”

“Thank you!” She seemed very proud of herself, and frankly, Janner thought it was adorable. “Now, I'll ask Mama to let Artham or Kalmar know about the change in plans.”

Janner gave her a half-smile at those words. Truthfully, he was dreading the questions he was going to be asked the next day, but he was willing to bear them since what he was doing was Sara's request.

“And let me take care of your hand, alright?” she added, walking towards the door before actually getting an answer from him.

He nodded, but the knot in his stomach still refused to go away as he watched her walk out the door.

*****

By the time she got back with a thin strip of bandages and mild healing salve, Sara wasn't too surprised to see that Janner had already gotten into his nightclothes. She wasn't even that surprised to see that he was only sitting on top of the bed, not underneath the covers as one normally would when they were planning on going to sleep. What she was surprised to see was a single tear rolling down his cheek, a few more becoming its companions. 

Nia had asked if she could take care of Cerlon for a little while, and unwilling to say, “no,” to the woman who was like a mother to her, Sara had agreed. Though she had been a bit reluctant then, she was thankful now. She hurried over, unworried about whether she would jar Cerlon as he was not in her arms anymore and sat down on the bed next to Janner so she could grasp his left hand. “Janner,” she murmured. “What's wrong?”

He shook his head. “I can't sleep now,” he whispered. “It's not going to work.”

Sara felt her heart breaking. The look she saw in his eyes was the one that appeared only after he had had a nightmare or when he was terrified of having one. She had a feeling it wasn’t just from what had happened to Cerlon that morning, which meant she needed to treat it as such. This was about Amrah and Kalmar and everything that had happened six years earlier, and although it grieved her to admit it, she had become rather proficient at handling things like that. 

She desperately hoped he was too tired to see how much the memories of when they had dealt with all of that mess hurt her when they resurfaced, because if he saw them, she had a feeling he would do his best to shove everything inside of him again. That was the last thing she wanted.

“Janner, I'll be right here,” she replied softly, massaging his hand with her thumb. “I'll sit in the armchair and if you start getting restless or have a nightmare while you're sleeping, I'll squeeze your hand to make it stop, alright?” 

A hint of relief passed through his eyes, but soon it was gone, replaced by more concern and worry. “Mama can't watch everyone alone.”

Sara resisted the urge to laugh at that. The fact of the matter was that Nia was a very capable woman, and even if she wasn't, she was a sacrificial woman who would be more than willing to bite off more than she could chew if it meant her son would actually sleep.  “I'm sure she'll be alright, but I'll ask her permission just in case.”

Floating through the door that Sara has accidentally left open came the words, “I can manage perfectly fine! Sleep, Janner, please.” Her voice was quiet enough that she would not make Cerlon fuss, but loud enough that they would hear her.

Sara smiled and looked at him, squeezing his hand again. “See? I can stay. Will you let me take care of your hand?”

Janner still seemed uncomfortable with the idea of her staying and shrugged in response to her question, but by the way he struggled to focus on her face, she knew it wouldn't be long before he was asleep, even if he kept trying to fight it. Maybe they would be really successful and he would wake up without dark circles under his eyes and without the cold she was betting on after he had stayed in wet clothes for so long. 

Though he might actually be forced to sleep if he caught a cold, she mused as she instructed him to hold his right palm open and applied some of the salve gently. In which case that could work in my favor.

She wrapped the cuts in the thin strip of bandage, and apologized when he winced as she tied it off. Hurting him truly was the last thing she wanted to do, especially since he hurt himself enough already, what with nearly always refusing to actually express his grief over Cerlon and not really telling her how he felt about Amrah actually being in Anniera.

Unfortunately the pain of that latest development was far too raw for her to consider addressing it at that moment, not to mention that what he really needed to do was sleep. Planning on making sure he did just that, she got up from where she was sitting and placed the jar of salve onto the nightstand before coming back to him.

“Now go to sleep,” she whispered, brushing his somewhat-mussed hair into place with her fingers to where it fell over the left side of his forehead again so it would cover the scar there. He preferred it when it laid that way. “Please.”

Smiling a little, he finally got underneath the covers and laid down, sighing contentedly without intending to. 

Sara sent a prayer of thanksgiving to the Maker as she watched him visibly relax. “I'll be here,” she whispered as his eyes fluttered shut. “I promise. Just trust me.”

*****

Notes:

I would say this was fairly happy! Or at least sweet^^

Anyway, I can't post two chapters today (as much as I would love to!) because I am kind of behind on writing and need to catch up on that...