27
Healing Wounds
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Three weeks later
Jason had regained consciousness a few days earlier, though he was in a stater somewhere between catatonic and furious. It was difficult to tell, and even more difficult to manage for everyone concerned. Physically, he would eventually recover and be a fully normal human being with all of his organs intact and running normally. Psychologically, he was severely wounded, perhaps even broken, by his experience.
Difficult to deal with before, and prone to bursts of frustration and anger, he had become single-mindedly intent on refusing to admit weakness, take advice, instruction, or acknowledge weakness, fault, or the need to consider that others might know certain things about himself better than he wass able to reliably report at that moment.
Helen reported to everyone that was worried about his mental well-being that he was going to be difficult to deal with for some time, and refused to put a timescale on his recovery. She also warned the others that the very last thing Jason needed was anyone treating him either like an invalid, like spun glass, or reminding him that he was not the only one down there to suffer. She had admonished everyone in advance that Jason was not someone who had shown the classic signs of narcissism, but that his self-centred attitude was going to get worse for a while, as he came to terms with what happened. Telling him that it didn't mater what he felt was strictly off limits, she had told them, looking significantly at Edward and John as she reminded them.
Edward was not about to ignore such advice. Before Jason's disappearance, he had been furious at the boy for refusing to work with the other settlers, for stealing what he wanted despite plenty being available to go around, for trying to rebel for the sake of being contrary, and for lying to him and using his sister as a weapon to get what he wanted.
During his disappearance, Edward had worried for the boy, even if he still felt anger that Jason had behaved so poorly.
And when he had heard the extent of the torture that Jason had suffered at the hands of those monsters that had taken him, he broke, utterly and completely. It no longer mattered what Jason had done in the past. What had happened was far beyond anything that anyone in the settlement had deserved to have visited upon them, and at the last, he was both heartbroken that his boy had suffered so much, and proud that he had resisted every attempt to break his spirit that those monsters had visited upon him.
It hurt Edward to know that Jason was still hostile toward him, but he was not prepared to push the issue. He would make it known that he would be there any time Jason needed to talk, but he would not make him do so.
So, on the third day, as he planned on making another visit to the newly-constructed medical pre-fab at the settlement, Edward spoke with Leila about her brother.
"Are you going to try and visit Jason today?" he asked her.
She had been unusually vocal recently, given she had been so naturally quiet for most of her life. The look she gave him was almost condescendingly that of a long-suffering mother. "Dad, he's angry at the whole world right now," she told him patiently. "It's not fair, what-" She stopped, raising a hand, gathering herself from that momentary slip in her composure. "Sorry dad."
"Why are you sorry?" Edward asked, surprised.
She looked toward him, her expression full of sorrow. "I should have tried harder to stop him from stealing. If he hadn't taken anything that day, he wouldn't have been arrested and locked up, they wouldn't have kidnapped him, and he'd-"
"Hey," Edward gently admonished, forestalling any further words. Leila looked guiltily down at the hands in her lap. "You cannot blame yourself. I certainly don't blame you for this. None of us were to know what would happen." Edward waved his arm out toward the holding facility where the surviving remnants of the insurgency were now safely sealed away, under extremely heavy guard. "Those monsters over there, they're the ones to blame. They robbed him of his humanity, his... They came very close to destroying him. They're the ones who should be sorry, Leila, not you. Never you. You didn't make them kidnap prisoners, and you certainly weren't holding a knife to anyone's throat. Don't take guilt for what was never your fault to begin with."
The vehemence he had spoken the last sentence shocked him, and momentarily silenced Leila's protests. A moment later, she leapt up out of her chair and strode to him, wrapping him in a hug and squeezing him tight. In turn, he wrapped his own arms around her and let out a deep sigh, releasing all of his grief for his only remaining son, thankful that his daughter was safe and well, and that she had such compassion for her brother.
"You go visit him," he told his daughter. "He's still angry at the world, and seeing me will only upset him further... But if he asks to see me, let me know right away."
Without lifting her head from his shoulder, Leila nodded, rubbing his back. "I will, dad."
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Janet sat with Stephen on a long cushioned bench, up on the roof of one of the residential blocks. In a desire for privacy, many of the residents of these blocks had requested, and were granted, access to roof sections of the pre-fabs so that they could go out and enjoy the sun, while being separate from other people. Dividers had been set up between each block on the roof, giving the whole thing an open balcony type arrangement with walls between each living space.
One of the perks of being in the core group of humans at the settlement was that Stephen and Janet both had first pick of the available units, and they also had a relative modicum of privacy from others. This was advantageous, as both had selected the units adjacent to each other, and when the partitioning went up for the roof balconies, they had combined their own two zones into a single balcony space, giving them plenty of room.
It wasn't like moving in together, at least not entirely, and nothing official was said. However, it did allow them both to spend more time together and see each other more frequently. Ever since the day Janet had revealed her feelings for Stephen, they had spent nearly every day together, and most nights.
"How's John?" Janet asked Stephen; he had just come back from visiting him at their new medical facility, as he was having his dressings changed.
"He's keeping together as well as he can," Stephen told her carefully. "That wound looks tender and sore. He's been cautioned about letting it be exposed to the environment in case of infection."
"That's gotta hurt," Janet replied absently, before re-iterating her question. "But it's also not what I meant. He's not himself, and I'm sure you've seen it," she insisted, though her voice was soft, her tone careful. "And I don't think it's all down to that wicked neck wound either."
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Stephen allowed his head to fall back against the bench, letting out a rather explosive sigh. "I've never seen him so down, honey. It's like he's mourning the loss of something close to him."
Janet curled up on the bench and sat back against his shoulder, searching for his hand and tucking it around her stomach. He squeezed her gently, stroking over her shirt, momentarily distracted at the indentations between her abs. "Maybe that's what he's missing?"
Stephen frowned, giving Janet a sideways glance. She frowned at him in puzzlement. "I don't know," he said eventually. "He's not one to make attachments and I'm sure he would have said something to us by now if it was someone he had been seeing."
Janet could not have agreed less. "I've been watching what's gone on for months now," she began slowly. "John's been seen a lot with one of the more senior security officers in the settlement. They would talk about patrols, her day, his day, often over coffee or while grabbing lunch."
Stephen shrugged. "Sure, that's normal for colleagues and friends," he commented.
"Or that's normal for two people who are trying to keep something private," Janet retorted, looking out toward the landscape. "You haven't seen the cues I have, the glances in each others' direction, the deliberate distance they'd keep in public, the carefully phrased statements, the fact that one would seem to exit a building at least half a minute after the other, as if they didn't want to be associated together."
Stephen poked Janet in the ribs, causing her to turn to him, startled, and she almost giggled at the pole-axed expression on his face, his jaw slack, his eyes wide. "They've been seeing each other?"
She nodded, unable to suppress an amused smile. "Right under everyone's noses," she quipped, then felt her expression relax, as she realized that this was probably what was going on. "Or... They had been seeing each other. I don't think that's going on any longer."
Stephen frowned. "Shit," he said quietly. "Poor guy," he added after a moment. "And he's said nothing to anyone about it either."
Janet shook her head. "He's been down ever since they were both injured and taken to the ship. I think that something happened and one of them broke it off. He's pretty cut up about it."
It was strange to talk about John in this fashion, especially as the relationship between herself and Stephen was getting stronger every moment, and had ignited a fire in her that she had long thought dead. There were times even now where she didn't know if she could keep her hands off of him, and even though there had been some occasions during the throes of passion between them where she had a sudden anxiety or panic attack, he had always handled it with care and patience. Her heart saw fit to burst just remembering the last time it had happened, because although the sense of overwhelming panic at the time felt awful, remembering how they had both dealt with it after the fact made her feel warm and fuzzy inside. It was one of the first times where a trigger for one of her panic attacks had barely made a dent in their night-time activities, something that she could never have thought possible a few months ago.
Feeling like she was about to melt, she sank deeper into Stephen's torso, and wriggled in pleasure.
"What has gotten into you today?" Stephen asked, his face clearly amused.
Grinning from ear to ear, Janet looked back at him. "Nothing," she said in a playful tone. "Just remembering how sweet you were the other night."
He kissed the side of her head, squeezing her where he held her waist. "You fancy getting a beer?"
She leaned forward, surprised. "I thought you wanted me all to yourself tonight," she said playfully, then thought about it a little more. "John?"
Stephen nodded. "I'm a little worried. I wanna make sure he's OK."
A trip to the clinic on the way to get a beer or two sounded like a good idea then, Janet thought. "Let's do it," she said, standing and stretching her body to work out some of the taut muscles she had felt kink up while they had sat. "I want us back here before the sun sets and we lose the warmth!"
Stephen gave her a playful wink, and she gave a silent chuckle as she joyfully bounced over toward the door leading to the ground floor.
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Jason had never felt more vulnerable. Sat in a hospital bed with nothing to protect himself with, he felt naked. Being in the clutches of a bunch of thugs intent on causing suffering and excruciating pain for nothing more than to break a person down was an experience he wished on no-one else on the planet.
He was still angry as well... An anger that had settled deep within, and one borne of a deep seated need to resist attempts at breaking him. It had helped keep him from capitulating to their ridiculous demands, but even he could see that it had changed him, and not necessarily for the better.
There was a time when he never would have screamed at the top of his lungs at his own sister, as much as she was a typical little kid sister who annoyed their older siblings. He would once have been disgusted and ashamed of himself had that ever happened.
He was still disgusted and ashamed... But he had done it anyway. Literally screamed at her to get out, and might have thrown something at her if he were strong enough to do it.
She had changed as well. Jason had no idea how, when or why, but she had become more. She didn't stay silent, didn't hang back in the sidelines. Now, she stood up for herself, and for others, and when he had near tore his own throat out screaming at her earlier, she had read him the riot act on how he was being insane and cruel to their father.
Just thinking about him was like pouring gasoline onto a flame.
A part of Jason that wanted to hate everyone and everything was screaming about how unfair the world had been, how he had seen too much, had witnessed an alien life-form rip a human's being to shreds and then co-opt their flesh for its own ends, had been made to feel punishment for defending another, and made to feel like a criminal for getting food to store for later use, and had been tortured by inhuman monsters who were doing it to use him as cannon fodder, had to risk his own family getting captured and tortured to make him capitulate.
That part of him screamed loudly.
The part of him that realized he had fucked up badly, that he had no real reason to steal from a settlement where more than enough existed to go around, had no axe to grind with a guy who had been good for their leader, and had beaten the shit out of him because he hadn't bothered to check his facts first, that part of him was drowned out by the one that wanted to strike back at the world in retaliation for his pain.
It left him unstable, which just made him more angry.
He was afraid of what he might do. He was terrified of who he might hurt, and more than that, he was petrified that the next person he hurt would be the very last person who deserved any pain in their lives at all.
And he could not see any way to deal with the terror that it caused other than to be angry at everything.
The door opened to his private room in the hospital, and he resisted the temptation to scream at his sister to get out again. Instead, he glowered at the wall as she stepped in to the room, dragged a chair from the other side and set it next to his bed, sitting in it quietly, and sitting down.
She said nothing.
Jason frowned, not knowing what was happening, not knowing how to deal with it. He didn't say anything, because he didn't want to lose his rag again.
Still, Leila said nothing. Instead, she pulled out a data tablet and tapped it so the screen came to life. Making herself comfortable, she sat back, and began reading silently.
How was he supposed to argue against this? She was sat there, seemingly doing her own thing, ignoring him, yet still present. If he started ranting at her to get out, she would probably ask him what he was going on about, since she'd said nothing and was just minding her own business. While he no doubt had a right to be left alone, he would be seen as unreasonable to demand someone leave the room that was otherwise not bothering him.
He sighed and looked away, not noticing that she was quietly observing him. He was so absorbed in himself, he wasn't seeing much of anything outside of the misery he was wallowing in. He tried to block it all out, his mind roiling in turmoil, until eventually, exhausted past his brain's ability to maintain consciousness any longer, he fell into an exhausted slumber.
While he slept, his sister stood, walked quietly over to his bed, and curled herself into her brother's side, careful not to dislodge him. She too, slept.