I kept listening to 'The Reason' while I wrote this, so pardon me if it's a little sad... I didn't mean to, honest!
-Janey POV-
The next few days passed quietly enough. There were a few minor squabbles, but nothing that compared to the first 24 hours. Knives spent most of his time in his room, coming out for meals and whenever I dragged him out to do his chores. The house remained standing, even when I left for work, and there were no signs of growth in Knives.He remained the same irritating seven-year old with an icy glare and a vocabulary that was far too large for his apparent age.
He also took little interest in what went on in the world around him. Though relatively co-operative when pushed, Knives' tone toward me had become decidedly glacial. He avoided me as much as possible, and responded tersely when talked to.
I lay on my back, staring up at the ceiling. The hands of the clock showed that it was well past 1 in the morning, but I couldn't sleep. There was a heavy feeling to the air, like that before a storm. With a sigh, I stood up and pulled on my robe. Maybe a cup of tea would help me sleep.
Warm vapor rose off the hot liquid, the tendrils finding their way to my nose and filling my senses with the herbal scent. I sighed happily and raised the cup to take the first comforting sip.
A piercing yell of pain suddenly shot through the air.
Startled, I dropped the cup. It shattered against the hard wood of the table, sending droplets of hot tea and shards of clay across the floor. The shout had come from Knives' room.
I scrambled up and ran down the hall, robe flapping behind me. I thudded against the door of his room as another yell rent the air.
"Knives!" I cried, fumbling with the door knob and banging my shoulder against the wood in an attempt to open the door."KNIVES!"
The door opened suddenly, nearly dumping me on the floor. I quickly gained my balance and ran across the room.
Knives was laying on the bed, having some sort of seizure. His body was almost completely rigid, but shaking violently. Even as I watched, his back suddenly arched, making it seem as if he was about to break in two. This was accompanied by another yell of pain. His eyes were wide and frightened.
"Knives, it's okay I'm here!" I cried, my hands fluttering back and forth over him, unsure of what to do. I knew I couldn't restrain him, but I hated seeing him in so much pain.
One of his hands suddenly shot up and grabbed my wrist. I jumped, surprised, then sat down on the bed. Knives continued to shake violently, holding my hand in a bone-crushing grip and keeping his eyes fixed on mine.
Time dragged on.
It could have been five minutes or five hours for all I knew.
But finally the shaking began to lessen, the rigidity leaving the small limbs.
Knives' eyes never left my face, his grip never slackened. I kept talking to him the entire time, just talking about whatever entered my mind so that he'd know that I was there, so that he could focus on something other than the pain.
Finally, the seizure completely stopped. Knives relaxed back onto the bed, still clinging to my hand, though without the extreme pressure. Hesitantly I reached out a hand and brushed his hair back. His forehead was sticky with sweat, and his breathing uneven.
"Come on, Knives," I said softly. "You're drenched. Lets at least get you a dry shirt, okay?"
After a moment, he nodded, eyes still fixed on mine. I smiled weakly and patted his hand before standing up. I chose a shirt from the dresser and brought it back to the bed. Knives' hadn't moved.
"Can you sit up?"
After a few moments of apparent effort, he shook his head. I smiled and shrugged slightly.
"Okay, not a problem."
As gently as I could, I pulled him up into a sitting position, removing the drenched shirt and replacing it with the fresh, dry one. Knives was relatively co-operative during the entire operation.
I was about to lay him back down, when I was struck with a thought. Frowning, I placed a hand on the sheets where his head had been. Just as I had suspected, they were damp to the touch.
"Well, putting you back down on that would completely defeat the purpose of changing you shirt," I said with forced cheerfulness.
Knives grunted tiredly, his head leaning against my shoulder. I smiled slightly and pulled his legs onto my lap, cuddling his head slightly as I did so. We sat like that for a few minutes.
"Well," I said finally. "You can sleep in my bed tonight, okay?"
Knives grunted again, eyes closed. Carefully, I stood up, making sure to keep him as still as possible. I padded softly down the hall. As we passed through the kitchen, I saw the mug shards scattered across the floor. I frowned, then mentally shrugged. I'd clean it up in the morning.
I put Knives down on my bed, careful not to jostle his head. He lay still as I pulled the covers up to his chin and firmly tucked them in.
"Okay... I'll be on the couch if you need anything, okay?"
He nodded, eyes still closed. I took a quick look around the room, then headed for the door.
"Janey?"
I paused at the quiet voice, and looked back over my shoulder.
"...Thank you..."
I smiled.
"You're welcome, Knives."
The next morning found me on my knees, reaching for shards with the hand broom. My back was sore from sleeping on the couch. It was amazing how a piece of furniture could be so comfortable to sit on and so uncomfortable to sleep on.
Footsteps from behind alerted me to the fact that Knives was up.
"Morning Sleepyhead!" I chirped, finally reaching the last elusive shard of mug. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine."
His voice was thick and sleepy. I grinned and stood up, dumping the contents of the dustbin into the trash can.
"So what do you want for breakfast?" I asked turning around. "Pancakes or eggsaAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"
The dustbin fell on the ground with a clatter.
Knives scowled at me, eyes squinted slightly from the light streaming in the kitchen window.
"That is hardly an appropriate morning greeting," he said sourly.
I stared at him wide-eyed, the sink faucet digging into the small of my back. His scowl darkened.
"What?"
"Y-you!" I stuttered, pointing a finger at him, Y-you're.. y-you're..."
"I'm what," he snapped.
"B-big!" I squeaked.
Indeed, the Knives that stood before me was no longer 7. Instead, he seemed to be about 12. He gave me a strange look.
"Yeeeeeah? And?"
"You KNEW?!" I shrieked, launching myself from the counter at him.
"Yes," he replied in a bored tone. "What did you think the seizure last night was?"
"YOU LITTLE RAT! GIVING ME A FREAKEN' HEART-ATTACK!"
Knives put his hands up in a placating gesture.
"I thought you knew," he said innocently.
"YEAH RIGHT!" I yelled, trapping him in a headlock. "You knew I didn't know!"
There was a faint gurgling noise by my ribcage as Knives tried to squirm out of the headlock.I held him where he was for a few moments, then released him. As soon as the pressure was gone from his neck, Knives scrambled out of reach.
"Well you know what this means," I said, cracking my knuckles.
"What," Knives replied warily, rubbing his neck.
"We have to go shopping for pants."
"...Oh bugger..."
--
Who feels sorry for Knives? -show of hands-
How about Janey? -show of hands-
How about me? -crickets chirp-... ingrates...after i wrote for three straight hours too...
haha just kidding, I love you all! I hope you enjoyed the latest chapter
I don't own Trigun. Nightow does.
