So there isn't enough fanfiction of the legendary James siblings in this world. I thought I'd do you all a favour and write one. :D. As always, I ain't Lynette Noni and I don't own the Medoran Chronicles.
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Not a day passes where Jeera James doesn't think about her parents, but today, the ache for them is so intense she can physically feel it. Lying on her bed, curled on her side with her arms wrapped around her most favoured pillow and Nisha's ancient cat Gizmo snoozing in the crook of her legs, her gaze is distant and unfocused, indicating that she's lost to her thoughts.
Through the mess of the shockwave from the battle - the bloodbath - at Graevale, the grief of losing one of her closest Warden friends Dominica, the hurt and anger that Blake's acting like she's some idiot who can't possibly understand the pain of the death of parents (if she wasn't trying her very best to be a considerate girlfriend, then she probably would have marched through a Bubbledoor and kicked his ass to high heaven by now), and most prominently, the complete hysteria that's leeched through her ever since she and Nisha received word that Kaiden has disappeared without a trace.
Her little brother's missing, and that's likely what's upsetting her the most.
He could be hurt. He could be lying dead somewhere. Or, most horrifyingly, he could now be one of Aven Dalmarta's brain-dead Claimlings. Jeera has absolutely no doubt that if she ever encountered her brother at opposite ends of another battlefield … he could potentially destroy anything and anyone, doomed to obey Aven's bidding.
Screwing up her eyes, Jeera presses her face harder into her pillow, ignoring Gizmo's beseeching mrow. She knows that if she ever faced Kaiden, as her a Warden and him a mindless soldier of Aven's campaign, she'd have no choice but to put him down. He'd be too dangerous to do anything else with.
A choked sob tears from her throat. He's her brother. Her baby brother at that. The very one who she's been responsible for ever since their parents' passing. The same kid who she taught to swim and fight and shoot. The same kid who used to be the only person who could elicit a laugh out of her out of those stiff, stupid socialite events. The same kid who ran to her when he was helplessly unable to control whatever new ability his gift had taken on. The same kid who used to screw up his nose at mashed potatoes and yell at the projection screen like the players of whatever sport was being currently broadcasted could hear him. The same kid who was tone deaf but would still sing until even Nisha's patience wore thin.
Screw her duty. Screw Aven. Screw everything. She just wants to see her brother again. She can only hope that he's with neither her parents and Dominica, or amongst Aven's ranks.
And yet, either of those are what everyone's guessing. Even Declan Stirling, who's Kaiden's longest and closest friend, is doubting that Kaiden's still alive and in control of his own free will. Her knuckles had tingled to punch him in the nose when Declan had said - but even herself knows that she's grabbing at straws. Thankfully, Nisha's just as pathetically hopeful as she is, which is making Jeera feel a little better. Not much, but enough to keep her from lashing out at her aunt, like she used to when she was younger.
Gizmo yowls, a demand for attention - but agitated and overly emotional, Jeera sweeps out her leg in one deft motion, uplifting the cat from her bed and sending him soaring through the air. He lands neatly, but nevertheless directs a displeased hiss at her before scuttling from her room.
She mutters something uncomplimentary about the cat, before throwing herself back onto the pillows and resuming her huddled position under the bedcovers. Not for the first time, she considers slipping down to the basement gym and throwing herself at a punching bag for a couple of hours.
But hell, she has nowhere near that energy, thanks to the brutality of Graevale as well as more than one sleepless night now. Cursing her exhaustion, Jeera shifts around, lunging for her ComTCD sitting placidly on her nightstand. Right now, she'd really appreciate a shoulder to cry on. Numbly, she opens her recent contacts.
Blake - currently being a jackass.
Kaiden - one of the reasons she feels like bawling her eyes out.
Dominica - now six feet under.
Alan Drock - absolutely not.
Alex Jennings - she'd probably end up interrogating the poor girl.
And judging by her hollow, distant state in that war council, she's certainly in need of being left alone for a little while longer. But Jeera hesitates, frowning at the contact belonging to the dark-haired girl who'd so abruptly walked into her family's life, unknowingly carrying her brother's heart between her fingers. She hasn't been heard from in days. There was even a short period, during those awful twenty-four hours since crawling out of Graevale, when word spread that she'd been personally slaughtered at Aven's hands.
But then she thinks better of it, and settles to toss away the ComTCD. She's an idiot for not thinking of this sooner.
She takes a few minutes to shimmy into some pants and spraying on some deodorant, before retreating from the comforting privacy of her bedroom, padding through the house she's lived in ever since she was seven years old, in search of her aunt.
She locates Nisha a few minutes later, seated in the sunroom that overlooks the impossibly blue sea fanning out before them. She's looking unusually grave, and it's one of the few occasions where a practical barrette isn't tightly keeping her hair out of her face. It's also surprising to see a glass of bourbon in her palm, the other hand smoothing over Gizmo's coat.
"When are we due back at headquarters? On duty?"
She winces at the sound of her own voice, cracked and hoarse from both grief and hours of misuse. She's probably tilting in the direction of dehydration as well. Nisha's gaze doesn't stray from the cliffs and the sea, but a focus resumes in her eyes, indicating her acknowledgement of her niece's presence.
"Eight o'clock, sharp. We've got another council meeting at the palace."
Jeera swallows thickly, choosing her words carefully. "I … Shouldn't I be searching for Kaiden instead?"
"Jeera." Her aunt's response is low, but not reprimanding. She raises the bourbon to her lips and takes a brief sip before lowering the glass again. "I know you want to. Trust me, I do too. But our careers are strict, and our current duty in these times -"
"I know." The interrupting hiccup tears free from Jeera's mouth before she can filter her words. Suddenly willing away the urge to cry, she adds on in a broken whisper, "But I'll never forgive myself if something's happened to him, and if I never tried to find him."
Nisha shifts over on the couch, silently inviting her to sit with her. She hesitates before approaching, ignored Gizmo's displeased hiss - going so far to tuck her feet up under her and lean into her aunt. She hasn't assumed this position in years - with Nisha, anyway. It's usually reserved for Blake these days.
Her chest pinches at the thought of her boyfriend, and she pushes away those thoughts of him.
"Jeera," Nisha says quietly after a long moment. "We should be hoping for the best. But our enemy is dangerous and powerful, possibly beyond our comprehension, and your brother … if Aven Dalmarta discovered information about him -"
"Don't say it."
"Not even a gift like his can protect him from being Claimed. His will doesn't have that supernatural superiority -"
"He would have adopted Alex's by now, wouldn't he?"
A moment of consideration, then a shake of her aunt's head. "I've been reading up on willpower. It's more powerful than what it's usually ever given credit for. The whole point, of a gift like hers, is that she can't be manipulated or used. It's more powerful than any military mental protection. So no, I don't think he would have her gift in his arsenal."
"Don't talk about him like that," Jeera rasps, her hands suddenly shaking. She folds them into her lap before Nisha notices. "He's not dead, and he's not Claimed."
"It's a possibility."
"But it shouldn't be our first assumption. Maybe Athora's hiding him or something."
Nisha doesn't speak for a long moment, only observing Jeera carefully. "It's not only your brother that's unsettling you, is it?"
Not for the first time, the overwhelming urge to cry surges up through her, spreading out from deep within her core. She cries rarely, always has, and even less in front of other people. Despite knowing Dominica ever since first-year at the academy - Dom could have counted on one hand the amount of times Jeera had wept in her presence.
The words burst from her mouth. "Dom died at Graevale. And Blake's being a stubborn ass."
Nisha gazes at her, startled for a long moment as the realisation sinks in. And then her aunt folds her arms around her, pulling Jeera into the embrace, the comfort that she'd been craving enough to seek her out. And it is there, huddled against her aunt and allowing Nisha to soothe her, does Jeera break down.
Neither of them move from the couch for a long time afterwards.
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So I actually quite like this one. Let me know if you did too :)