Warnings: This chapter contains actual use of the word "rape," content that might be triggering for eating disorder, and some things that might be seen as victim blaming (although the victim is the one doing it).
Chapter Twenty-five
It was early August before Norway was allowed to leave the hospital. He had been there for over a month, and still the other Nordics were worried he was being released too soon. He still seemed so frail, and it seemed that he had barely started to recover.
More than a year of barely eating or not eating at all had taken a severe toll on his body. He was past the point where his body had begun to break down muscle. That, coupled with several weeks of having been bedridden, kept him being able to get back on his feet easily. He was still only able to walk short distances unaided, and anything over a certain distance he was unable to walk at all.
In addition to that, he was still having bouts of lightheadedness from low blood pressure and there was concern that his heart rate was still too low. The doctor said that would probably improve once Norway had gained back some of the weight he had lost, but there was still concern about the consequences if he pushed himself too hard.
The rest of the family, knowing that it would be some time before Norway could handle the stairs, had rearranged things at the house in order to give him a bedroom on the ground floor. That would allow him to have access to all the downstairs rooms at least, and there was still the issue of whether or not he would feel safe upstairs.
He was not even well enough yet to be able to walk out of the hospital—and yet he was still being sent home. He was no longer in need of the constant medical attention he received in the hospital and there was no other options expect to send him home. His status made anything else impossible, or there was too much risk.
Just the trip back to the house from the hospital had left Norway exhausted, and the rest of the family had gotten him settled in the room they had fixed up for him. There were still a few hours before dinner, and they knew he needed the time to rest.
There would be time for talking later.
To the relief of the rest of the family, Norway did eat dinner. They had been a little worried that he would stop eating again once he was no longer in the hospital. They were all worried that something might still go wrong, since Norway probably would not survive another setback. He almost hadn't survived the last one. But so far he seemed to be alright. He looked like he was recovering from some serious illness, and he still flinched if someone tried to touch him when he wasn't expecting it, but he was no longer refusing to leave his room and he was eating again.
After dinner the whole family gathered in the living room—they had been advised not to allow Norway to be alone immediately after a meal, just in case.
This was the first time in several months that they had spent what felt almost like a normal evening together. It may have been the first time since before Scandia's visit, and it was certainly the first time since January. The times that they all been together in June had been overshadowed by the deterioration in Norway's condition, a deterioration which had been evident even the beginning of the month.
Norway was still distancing himself from the rest of the family a little. He had sat down on the edge of the couch and was holding one of the pillows against his chest—it was a position that had become familiar to the rest of the family. But unlike the more recent times, he did not seem quite as distant. Although he did not participate in any conversation, he at least seemed aware of it.
The next few days went much the same as the first one. Norway still did not say anything about what had happened, but as he was willingly leaving his room and eating regular meals, they did not want to press him for information he did not want to share.
It wasn't until one evening about a week after Norway had been discharged from the hospital that the rest of the family learned anything about what had happened to him. It started with a simple question. "Do you remember our mother?"
There was silence for a few minutes after that question. The rest of the family all knew that Norway had been blamed for his mother's death—and that he had been worried that his older brothers blamed him as well. They were worried that fear may have prompted the question.
"A l'ttle. We w're t' young t' remember much," Sweden answered.
Norway looked down at the floor before asking, "Do you remember what happened to her?" His voice was just loud enough for the rest of the family to hear.
"We knew that she was in accident and died because of that. Her death wasn't your fault, Nor."
"I met her," Norway said. "She showed me what really happened, and it wasn't an accident."
That was one of the first things Norway had said about what he had experienced while he was unconscious. They knew he had experienced something that had a big effect on him, but they had not wanted to press him to talk about it before he was ready. But it seemed that now he might be ready. None of them said anything, as they waited to see if he might say more.
"She wasn't there until close to the end," Norway said, after a few moments had passed in silence. "At first, there was nothing, but then . . ." He closed his eyes, as the memories threatened to overwhelm him. "Everything was dark, except for one path. I didn't want to follow it, but it was only thing that was solid. And, then far was there. He didn't do anything—he just talked. Then, everything went dark . . . The next thing I knew, I was in a room . . . Most of the time, I was alone, but other times, far was there. Sometimes he just talked, but other times he . . ." He wasn't able to finish that sentence—he never had been able to actually talk about what Scandia did to him. Even when it had happened in a dream, he still couldn't bring himself to say the words, to say that his father had raped him. His eyes were still tightly closed, as the memories played over again in his mind. He tightened his grip on the pillow that his arms were wrapped about, trying to use the feel of it to anchor himself in the present, but still he felt himself being swept under by the memories. And he hadn't even gotten the part that he was afraid to tell them about yet.
He could hear his family calling to him, but even though he knew they were right there in the room with him, their voices seemed to come from a great distance away. He could barely focus enough to hear them, even when he tried to. And he couldn't have responded then, even if he knew what he wanted to say. He didn't want to find out what they would think if he told them the rest of what had happened. What if his mother had been wrong and they really did think he was a burden and were unhappy that they still had to deal with him? Or what if they did blame him once he told them the full story of what had happened—it was only because they believed it to have been an accident that they didn't hate him after all. The combination of those fears and the memories was making it impossible for him to stay focused on the present, on the fact that he was in the living room with his family and it was supposed to be a normal evening. At the moment the only thing that existed for him was all the thoughts he did not want to deal with.
Norway did not know how much time passed while he struggled to deal with the thoughts that threatened to overwhelm him, but he came back to the present when he felt someone's arms surround him, pulling him into an embrace. He opened his eyes at last, and was not surprised when he saw who was holding him. "Anko," he managed to say, unintentionally using the old nickname. He wanted to say something else, but the only thing he could manage to say was the one thought that was uppermost in his mind. "Don't hate me. Please don't hate me." He just kept repeated those two sentences over and over, not even fully aware that he was doing so. He felt moisture on his face, and realized then that he was crying. On some level he felt like he should be trying to get away—after all the person holding him was the one who had controlled him for several hundred years and who might just be looking for a chance to get control over him again. And yet, he still felt safe.
After some time, he managed to get control over his emotions, and it took less time it had in April. Although the worry of how his family would react to the rest of the story he needed to tell them remained, he felt too drained at the moment to really be affected by it. He knew that he was still being held, but he made no attempt to free himself. Despite the lingering fear of having his independence taken away, being held like that made him feel safe and cared for.
"Nor, are you feeling better now?"
Norway drew back enough to be able to see that the rest of the family was also still in the room. He made no move to try to free himself from the embrace. "Yes," he said, after a few moments. The fact that he still made no move to try to free himself made the truth of that statement rather questionable.
"Why do you think that we're going to hate you?"
It was only then that Norway actually knew that he had said those words aloud. He drew back fully from the embrace, before answering. "Far hated me—he tried to kill me. Not just in the dreams, but before I was born. That was what really happened when our mother died. She tried to run away, and far punished her because she had tried to get away from him so I would be safe. It was my fault she died—if she hadn't protected me, she would have lived longer." And now that he had told them, he waited for them to turn against him, as he was sure they would.
Denmark pulled Norway back into an embrace. "Nor, we don't hate you for that. I always knew that she wanted you protected—we were allowed to see her one last time before she died, and I promised her then that I would protect you. She wanted to be sure that you would be safe. I just didn't know that our father was the person you needed to be protected from."
"You're our l'ttle brother, Norge. W' won't hate y' f'r something th't wasn't y'r fault."
"But it was my fault," Norway said. "She died because she was trying to protect me." He still couldn't believe that they didn't hate him. But, somehow, it seemed as they didn't. Both of his older brothers had told him that it wasn't his fault. He just couldn't believe it—he had spent so many years being convinced that they secretly hated him because of this. The fact that they didn't was just too much for him to be able to comprehend. He kept expecting the inevitable moment when they would turn against him. He just couldn't believe that they knew the truth and it didn't seem to have changed the way they thought of him.
"Nothing that's happened has been your fault. Scandia is the one who is responsible, and this is just one more thing that he is to blame for."
Despite having been told that a few times now, Norway still found it hard to believe. From his earliest memories, he had been told that his mother's death was his fault and that he had ruined the family by being born. Even once he knew that Scandia had lied about what had really happened, he still found it hard to stop believing that he was to blame.
That evening's conversation did not last much longer. Norway still did not have the energy for a long conversation that dealt with topics that were hard to him face, and the others could see how tired he was, even when he tried to hide it. They had all tried a few more times that evening to tell him that he wasn't to blame for anything, but they weren't sure if their assurances were doing any good.
The next day, Norway was still tired from what little he had managed to face the night before. And that fact that he hadn't gotten the best night's sleep didn't help—his sleep had been disturbed a couple of nightmares. The only positive side was that these nightmares had not been visitations from his father—they had just been ordinary nightmares brought on by the fear that his family would hate him if they knew the full truth. In these dreams, when he told them the full story of what had happened, they had blamed him and gone so far as to order him to leave the house. Then they had stood by the door and watched as he struggled to walk across the yard. When he had fallen, none of them had offered to help, and he was sure he heard them making comments about how it was what he deserved. He had woken up then, and thankfully he had managed to avoid making any sounds loud enough to wake up the rest of his family. Still, by the time the rest of the family came downstairs, he had been awake for a couple of hours.
It took him long enough to walk to the dining room, that they were all already there when he reached the room. He stopped for a moment by the door, not sure if he was ready to face them all again after the conversation from the night before. If he had been in better physical condition, he might have turned around and left the room, but instead he went in and took his seat at the table.
"You look tired, Norja," Finland said. "Did you sleep alright?"
"Yes." Norway suspected that they probably saw through his lie, but none of them questioned him at the moment. Instead, they focused on making sure he ate breakfast. Norway didn't really feel like eating, but he still managed to force himself to eat a decent amount of the food that had been set in front of him. He knew he would be in trouble if he stopped eating again. Plus, if he was at least eating normally, then maybe his family would not try to force him to elaborate on what he said that night before. He didn't want to be more of a burden to them than he already had, and he knew that he risked breaking down if he tried to talk about any of what Scandia had done. It was bad enough that he had lost control the night before and said more than he had wanted to.
After breakfast, he wanted to escape back to his room, so that if he did lose control over his emotions, he could at least do so without witnesses. However, he wasn't allowed to be alone for at least any hour after a meal. He knew why they did that, and he sometimes resented being treated like someone with an eating disorder. He may have stopped eating, but he didn't have an eating disorder—he just didn't have an appetite because of all the other stuff he was trying to deal with. It wasn't like he was going to do something like make himself throw up, which was what he suspected his family was afraid he would do if they left him alone after a meal.
It took him a few minutes to be able to stand up after he had finished eating. He still had bouts of lightheadedness if he stood up too fast, and his legs were still weak from the length of time he hadn't been walking. He hated the fact that walking between three rooms in the downstairs part of the house was the most he could do without help—it made it clear just how much of a burden he was to his family right now. He couldn't even leave the house on his own.
From his spot at the table, he could see a window that looked out into the yard, and he realized then how long it had been since he had really spent any time outside. He remembered that his family had tried to get him to go outside in the last few weeks before he had ended up in the hospital, but he had always refused—on the occasions when he had responded to them at all. Then, while he had been staying with Birger, he hadn't been allowed to go anywhere except to work and back to the house. There had been the week after he had run away from Birger's house, and that was it—other than that, the last time had been at the beginning of April. But he knew it would probably be a while before he got a chance to actually do anything like that again, probably not until he could manage on his own.
"Remember, you have a doctor's appointment this afternoon."
Norway had already remembered that. He still had to go every few days, so that the doctor could make sure that he was recovering without any more complications developing. And, he usually had physical therapy appointments on the same afternoons. He knew that meant he would probably be tired tonight, and hoped that this would allow him to put off the continuation of the previous night's conversation for another day.
The conversation had been put off for another day, as the whole family had seen how tired Norway was that night. They knew that, even though he was recovering, he still tired easily, and the trips to the doctor followed by the physical therapy appointments were something that especially tired him out. And, truthfully, they were all a little hesitant to bring up the subject again, as they had been worried after seeing how upset Norway had gotten just from having talked about a little of what had happened. And they were beginning to see that getting through to him might be more difficult that they had believed at first. They had no idea how to convince him to stop blaming himself for everything that had happened, or, most importantly, how to convince him that none of them blamed him for anything that happened.
However, by the next morning, Finland had come up with an idea. He did not tell the others exactly what this idea was, as it involved using a piece of information that Norway had revealed to him in one of their previous conversations. The only thing he told the rest of the family was that he was going to try to talk to Norway in private.
At breakfast that morning, he noticed how tired Norway looked, and he suspected it had been another bad night. So, not wanting to risk the situation deteriorating again, he put his plan into action immediately after breakfast.
"Would you like to go outside, Norja?" he asked, after breakfast that morning. He had noticed the way Norway had been looking outside over the past few days, and he suspected that being outside again might help Norway to relax.
Norway did not answer immediately, but there was something about how he looked towards the window that made it clear what his answer would be. At last, he answered, "Yes."
"I talked to your doctor yesterday, and he said it would probably be good for you to spend time outdoors, as long as you are careful and don't use up too much energy."
It took a few minutes to get outside. Norway had needed help walking out there, so the whole family had gone out initially. However, once Norway was settled, most of them had gone back inside—all with some excuse of something that needed to be done inside.
"I don't want to talk anymore about what happened," Norway said, once they were alone outside. "So if that's what you were trying to make happen by setting this up, it's not going to work."
"Actually, there's something I wanted to talk to you about," Finland answered. He hadn't expected Norway to figure out so quickly that this was a set-up, but then it was similar to what he had arranged after the world meeting at the beginning of June. "Do you remember what you told me about the first night of Scandia's visit?"
"Yes," Norway answered after a few moments of silence. "But I really don't want to talk about it anymore."
"You said that you let your father into your room that night after he threatened to harm Islanti. So, do you blame Islanti for what happened last summer?" He hated asking that question, but it was necessary in order to make a point that needed to be made.
"No," Norway answered, without even having to think about it. "I couldn't let far hurt him—I could go through it again, as long as I knew Island was safe and never had to go through any of what I did. No one else blames him, do they?"
The very real fear in that question was the reason that Finland had not told the others about this plan. He had known that asking that might upset Norway, but he still hoped to get him to see the parallel. "They don't know," he answered at last. "I never told them what you told me about that night. But I don't think anyone would blame him. You made a sacrifice in order to protect your child, just like your mother did to protect it—it was just a different kind of sacrifice. So if Islanti isn't responsible for what you did to protect him, then why are you responsible for what your mother did to protect you?"
"I don't know," Norway answered. "But far always told me that everything was my fault, and that Danmark and Sverige would hate me if they knew the truth. And I couldn't bear it if they hated me too—I already can't bear the fact that Island is ashamed of our true relationship. I knew you said that he isn't, but he acts like it sometimes. I'm afraid that you're the only one who doesn't hate me." That last sentence was spoken barely above a whisper.
"No one hates you, Norja."
"She told me the same thing, but I'm not sure I can believe it. Far wanted them to hate me." Since he had said as much as he had already, Norway finally talked about what his mother had shown him in the dream. It was clear that it was painful for him to talk about what had happened in those memories, even though they contained the proof that his mother had cared for him. That proof was somewhat canceled out by the fact that that same memories showed just how much Scandia had hated him. However, unlike the shortened version he had told the whole family, this time he still went into detail about some of the conversations between his parents in those memories. The only parts that Norway left out of the account were exactly how his mother had entered into the dream, and what had happened after she showed him those memories. It was obvious that there were still gaps in what was being said, but it was also obvious that Norway was not ready to talk about what else had happened.
"They won't hate you for any of that," Finland said, once the whole story had been recounted. He knew that this would probably have to be said many times before Norway would really believe it. But there was no question that the whole family would do whatever was necessary to make sure that Norway recovered.
"I don't know if I can talk to them about it, though," Norway said. "I don't want to find out that far was right. And there's more, too. I remember everything that happened with far now. At least, I think I do. Before I felt like there were gaps in my memory, and now there aren't as many. There're still a few things I don't remember . . ." He left the rest of the sentence unspoken, and it was clear that he stopped himself from saying more on the subject of not remembering. "But it's all there now—everything that he did. I want to forget again, but the memories won't go away. I was barely able to deal with what I did remember before."
It was unusual for Norway to actually say this much, but that had happened in most of their conversations lately. He seemed simultaneously to need to talk about everything that had happened and to want to hide everything behind the wall that he had always kept his emotions behind. The events of the past year had left him without his usual defenses and the amount of emotional pain that he was feeling right now could clearly be seen. It was clear that he was still right on the edge of breaking, but at the same time, the fact that was talking about this at all, showed that there was hope that he would find a way through it.
Finland carefully reached out and touched Norway's hand—that was the one kind of touch that Norway was least likely to have a bad reaction to. "Norja, we are all here for you, and we will do whatever we can to help you feel better. Nothing you can tell us would make us hate you, or turn against you. And, if you need to talk, and can't say this to the others, then we can talk privately like this. Or, if you feel you need to talk to someone who isn't part of our family, we can find a way for you to be able to do that. We all care about you, and nothing that your father did to you will change that. Let us help you."
"I don't know if I can," Norway whispered. "I'm still afraid of what they might do. And I hate being afraid all the time—it seems like the only thing I've felt for over a year now. Ever since far came back. I hate being this weak." There were tears in his eyes, and he could no longer keep them from falling.
"You're not weak, Norja. If you were weak, you never would have been able to deal with all of this by yourself for so long. Everything that you have been through and survived proves how strong you are." Finland tightened his grip on Norway's hand, trying to convey some measure of reassurance to the other man without making him uncomfortable.
For a few minutes, they sat like that, and eventually, Norway got his emotions back under control. He was still unable to completely hide them, but he had stopped crying at least. He was also clearly exhausted. However, despite the fact that he had not been able to reconstruct the wall that he usually hid his emotions behind, he seemed more at peace than he had been at the beginning of the conversation. If nothing else, it was a beginning.
Author's notes:
I didn't put a translation note in this chapter, since I've used the word before, but "far" means father. And that means that Norway actually does keep calling Scandia "Father." Exactly what that might mean at this point, I'm not sure, but it might not be a good sign.
At this point in the story, Norway's emotional state is about the same as it was after chapter eleven. Which means that from this point on, we will be seeing what would have happened if he hadn't had to return to Birger's house at that point. Last time, his condition got worse because he was trying to deal with everything alone, and had almost no contact with his family. Now that he is with his family, he might finally be able to deal with things.
In future chapters, more details about what Scandia did to Norway will be revealed—for example, what exactly is in all the memories that Norway had recently recovered? Also, had he repressed those memories himself, or was Scandia keeping him from remembering? (And, in an explanatory note: the gaps that Norway still has in his memory and doesn't want to admit to having deal with events that happened in chapters six and seven [split between the chapters] and chapter sixteen, as well as maybe a little of chapter seventeen.)
And there are other questions that have been raised in this story that still remain unanswered, and will be dealt with in future chapters or future stories in this series.
Among those question is the issue of whether Scandia is still any kind of threat. He can't do anything through the dreams anymore, and if he tries to visit again the rest of the family won't let him anywhere near Norway. However, if Scandia really hates Norway as much as he seems to, then it's only a matter of time before he finds a way to make another attempt. Also, there's the question of just how many attempt he's made to kill Norway—there are three that are known for sure: the one that led to the mother's death, and two attempts through the dreams. Were there any others during all the years that Norway lived with Scandia?
Also on the issue of potential threats, what about Birger? What exactly happened with him? Was he blamed for some of the more recent events—events which could have prevented if he hadn't been so dismissive of what Norway told him? And if Birger was held responsible, does he have any resentment towards Norway because of that? Knowing the way he seems to think, that seems quite likely—ironic considering that Birger started out as just wanted to protect Norway? At what point did that change so that by the end Birger was only worried about his job?
And, what is the event that happened during the occupation in World War II that has been hinted at a couple of times? Is that event what triggered the panic attack that Norway had at January's world meeting back in chapter one, or was that caused by something else?
Anyway, now that I've given hints at things I might address in future chapters or stories, I will conclude by saying that the next chapter should be out before the end of the month. In fact, I'm going to go so far as to give the 24th as a tentative release date for the next chapter.
This story is also available on Livejournal and Dreamwidth at the addresses given on my profile.
As always, reviews are appreciated, and I would like to thank my one reviewer from the previous chapter.