This is the final chapter of this story - for now. I really wanted this fic to also fill in the missing scene after the second attack but it's kinda taken on a life of its own and grown to three chapters just for the first attack... and I really need to move onto some other work. I think I will probably come back to this one later and add a further couple of chapters to cover the second missing scene. For now, however, this is it...
Hope you enjoyed it, all reviews and feedback gratefully received. :)
Teer had awoken to find the room cloaked in growing darkness, surprised to find that evening was already settling upon the Cloister; she had slept most of the day away. Her first thought upon waking had been of John and she had been filled with an irrational fear at having relinquished her guardianship of him for so long. Though she had known full well that Avrid or Hedda would have come and fetched her if there had been any problems, any change at all, she had still been unable to shake the urgent need to check on him, to see for herself that he still lived, still breathed. He was the One, the One who would lead them to Ascension…
Splashing water on her face from the washbowl on the dresser and hurriedly changing into fresh clothing, she had had to force herself to walk and not run the short distance from her home to John's temporary quarters. She had chided herself for her excitement, for allowing the rush of powerful emotions to overwhelm her so; she had spent her life in meditation and learning, in striving for a higher goal, to free oneself of the mundane, the humdrum of human concerns and emotions, to achieve a higher, purer plane of existence. She had learnt to centre and balance herself, to be at peace with herself and to accept her place within the fabric of the universe with calm and equanimity. John had been with them for barely a full day and yet he seemed to have turned her world upside down and left her giddy and unbalanced. She had taken a moment to compose herself, to school her features, before pushing open the door to his room.
She had been greeted by a wide smile from Hedda. Her sister had been perched beside John's bed, leaning forward to press a cool, damp cloth to his forehead, and her happiness had been innocent, free from even a natural pride at having been the one to save John's life, as she had cheerfully informed Teer that John was doing much better. Indeed, he had looked much improved, the terrible pallor of that morning already fading, a healthy colour returning to his cheeks. The blankets had been pulled up across his chest and he had looked relaxed and comfortable. He had been oblivious to Hedda's gentle touch and had seemed to be sleeping deeply and peacefully.
"He has slept all day?" she had questioned, moving around the bed to stand beside her sister, tousling the young girl's mass of curls affectionately.
"Mostly," Hedda had answered blithely. "He woke up once or twice.."
Teer had felt her heart clench in her chest at those innocent words, a disappointment that was almost painful filling her at the thought that John had been awake and aware and she had missed it, had not been there to welcome him properly to his new home. It had been a moment or two before she had realised that Hedda was still talking, her words jolting Teer out of her reverie. ".. think he was really aware of his surroundings though. He's still pretty woozy. Oh hey, there he goes again…"
Startled, she had turned her attention back to John to find those oddly-coloured eyes open again and seemingly gazing right at her. Unable to keep a pleased smile from her face, she had bent closer to speak to him, his name faltering on her lips as she had realised that his eyes did not track her movement at all; though lacking the fever-bright glaze of the previous night, his gaze had still been unfocused, staring unseeingly past her, through her. She had waved a hesitant hand across his face; not a flicker of reaction. John's eyes may have been open but he had not really been awake. Hedda had pressed the cool cloth to his forehead once more and his eyes had drifted closed, his brow wrinkling for a moment in seeming confusion, his lips moving soundlessly, forming indistinct, silent words. As his breathing had deepened once more in sleep, Teer had found herself holding her breath and had exhaled deliberately.
As evening had turned to night and night cycled into morning, John had continued to rouse periodically from his exhausted sleep, never really reaching wakefulness but hovering on the edges of awareness, opening drowsy, unseeing eyes, sometimes responding sluggishly when spoken to. Teer had taken Hedda's place at his bedside, watching over him as he slept, using cloth and cool water to bathe his brow, dabbing carefully at the healing cuts on his forehead; such small wounds had been left to heal on their own, Hedda having expended much of her energy on repairing the serious damage done to John's body. Avrid had returned from meditation in the early evening, bringing Teer a meal of fresh fruit and bread which they had shared companionably, chatting in low voices so as not to unduly disturb their sleeping guest.
Teer had again passed the night on the cot set up in John's room, reluctant to leave him alone, despite his greatly improved condition. She had sat for a long time at his bedside simply watching him sleep, feeling a great sense of wonder and gratitude at the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest. Now that the danger was over and his recovery was certain, she felt again the slow build of excitement at what his arrival foretold; the end of their journey, the achievement of their most cherished goal. After so many years of waiting, John had come to them and Ascension was within their grasp.
She had checked his healing wounds one last time before dousing the lamps and curling up on the low cot. Pulling aside the blankets, she had checked carefully for any sign of bruising to his torso and abdomen, any swelling or pressure that might indicate an internal injury. John had not stirred as she had rolled him gently onto his side, his body limp and boneless in the relaxation of deep sleep. She had run a hand lightly across his back, marvelling at the unblemished skin; there was no sign of the terrible wounds he had suffered, no swelling or redness, no reaction to her touch. The bone-deep gashes had healed completely with no evidence that they had ever been there. Teer knew from previous experience of Hedda's healing powers that the process could be physically demanding for both the healer and the patient, the accelerated healing drawing on the body's own energy as well as Hedda's, often leaving the patient exhausted. The severity of the trauma John had suffered had left him weak and vulnerable to begin with, making further demands on his store of energy. It was not at all surprising that he had slept so long and so deeply; more than anything he needed to rest, to allow his body to replenish its energy levels. According to Hedda, he was unlikely to awaken properly for at least another day or so.
But Teer had seen the strength of character in John as he had fought to protect her brother from the Beast, she had felt the power and determination in his muscles as, though weak and wounded, he had struggled in her grasp, pushing his body to the limits of endurance through sheer willpower alone. She had seen that strength in him, had read it in his eyes, even when fever-glazed and drowsy. With a rueful smile, she had suspected that their patient might just surprise them all. Trying to dress him when he was so utterly relaxed, a dead weight in her arms, had turned out to be very much a matter of trial and error but she had been content to do it alone; she had a feeling that John was a very private man and somehow the thought of asking others, even her brother, to come and help her clothe him had made her uncomfortable on his behalf. Better that she do it herself. It had been a simple enough thing to lift his head enough to pull the loose, woven smock over it and to take his arms one at a time and thread them gently into the sleeves. Somewhat harder had been raising his torso from the mattress enough to smooth the tunic down over his shoulders and back. She had resorted to pulling him up into a sitting position, bracing his limp body against her own, letting his head rest on her shoulder as she pulled the soft fabric into place. The smock was long enough to cover his undergarment and some of his legs and, after laying him gently back down on the bed, she had been satisfied that he would feel more comfortable to awaken wearing the soft, clean garment. She had tucked the blankets back around him and, with a smile, brushed an unruly lock of hair from his forehead before turning down the lamps, plunging the room into darkness.
The night had passed much more peacefully this time, John sleeping deeply for much of the night. Teer had risen only once or twice to check on him and had been awoken only once by a noise from the bed. She had found John dreaming, stirring restlessly under the blankets, mumbling some anguished protest, but his skin had been cool to the touch, no sign of fever or illness. So she had sat for a while beside the bed, taking his hand in hers and speaking to him in low, calming tones; talking of nothing, of the harvest, of the smell of the meadow in springtime, of the virtues of meditation and personal reflection, heedless that he could not hear her, until finally he had quieted, his head ceasing to toss on the pillow, the murmured, half-coherent words stilling on his lips. She had continued to hold his hand as his ragged breathing had evened out and the tension had faded from his body.
Dawn had found her dozing on the soft, padded seat beside John's bed, his hand still gripped in hers.
Avrid and Hedda had joined her for breakfast and the three of them had sat together in John's room, sharing their meal of fresh, ripe fruit and talking quietly as they watched over the sleeping stranger who had arrived so suddenly into their lives; who, Teer knew, had come to change their lives forever. The day had dawned cloudless and warm, the sky a clear, endless blue that seemed to go on forever. It was a day for new beginnings, a day for endless possibilities, and the sun was warm on Teer's face as she followed Avrid out into the Cloister, leaving Hedda to watch over John. Their friends and neighbours greeted them warmly and Teer found herself gazing at each and every beloved face, her heart swelling with the sure and certain knowledge that today was the momentous day that would mark the beginning of the end of their long journey.
Her conversation with Avrid was interrupted by Hedda's clear, childishly-high voice calling from within the house, "He's awake again!"
Fin... for now. ;)