Jane slept soundly and deeply for hours. Then, once her body had mostly caught up on the missed rest and refreshed itself from the prolonged stress of watching over her Pack alone, she began to stir. She surfaced enough to dream those half-awake, troubled dreams that disturb the slumber of those who go to bed full of anxiety. In her dream, she was walking around London, down dark alley after dark alley, looking for her Pack. They were all missing, every last one of them, and she was a horrible alpha who failed them utterly, and there was a deep feeling of doom. No violence, no scenes of blood, no one dead, nothing to startle her awake with a cry…just an unsettling feeling of everything is wrong, and she was alone, and no matter where she went her Pack was gone.
It was a bit of a relief when a hand grasped her by the shoulder and shook her awake.
The dregs of the dream stayed with her, but even before she opened her eyes, she calmed. She could smell her Pack around her, knew she was in her own territory and that no strangers had invaded, and that went a far way to settle her frayed nerves. And she wasn't fully rested, not really, but she had slept well enough that she was ready to face another day, or rather night, as the sun had already set.
That it was Bert waking her was a bit surprising. She had rather thought he'd been part of a dream as well.
Then she had to wonder why he was waking her, particularly as it was dark out, and she looked at him, suddenly very wide awake, and waited for him to speak.
"Jack has a fever," Bert told her calmly, but seriously. "I've asked Ellen to call for the doctor again."
Jane turned in the bed. Jack was still present. He was still asleep even, but restless; Michael was holding him still to keep him from twisting onto the worst of his wounds and hurting himself. Even asleep, Jack looked like he was in pain, his face tense. Jane reached out a hand to feel his forehead and was distressed to find that Bert wasn't exaggerating the need for the doctor. Jack wasn't just too warm; he was like a furnace.
"When did this happen?" Jane demanded, only in a whisper to avoid disturbing Jack further.
"It came on suddenly," Michael whispered back, sounding stressed but not defensive, clearly worried himself. "We were letting him sleep. Then he started to move about and I came to keep him from hurting himself and…and that's when we realized."
Jane moved her hand away from Jack's forehead, and Jack whimpered, tilting his head towards her, searching out her touch even in his sleep, and she quickly brought her hand back, this time to stroke against his hair.
"He wants you," Bert remarked. "This is the calmest he's gone since he started stirring. He wants his alpha…and that's no longer me."
"But he isn't mine…not really," Jane said, sounding miserable to admit it. "I mean…he wanted me to claim him, I know he did, but I…I never…I was…"
"You were afraid," Bert said, finishing her sentence for her with such gentleness that it almost hurt. Jane looked over her shoulder towards him, her body still facing Jack, her hand in his hair. Jack was so warm beneath her fingers it rather terrified her. Jack had stilled when she'd reached for him again, and that almost scared her more than the thrashing had done, because he was so still, and he was fevered and at least when he moved she knew he wasn't actively dying. She had allowed an omega in her pack to come to this, and now Bert was there, the next best thing to being Jane's uncle…to being Jack's father…and surely he would be furious at what she had allowed her fear to do.
But he didn't sound angry, and he didn't look angry. He looked like he understood and sympathized.
"He mentioned you in his letters, you know," Bert said. She hadn't known Jack had written anything to Bert, but just then didn't seem the time to discuss Jack's correspondence. Jane continued to look towards Bert, and Bert was kind enough to move about to Jack's side of the bed so she didn't have to crane her neck. Or perhaps he just wanted to be closer to Jack too. From there, Bert continued to make his point.
"He said he was happy to know you. And he didn't care if you ever bonded or married. He was just happy to be in your pack. He's rather fond of all the Banks family, I think you'll find."
"If I had bonded with him, that alpha would never have dared to touch him. He'd know Jack was claimed."
"Perhaps," Bert agreed. This earned a look from Michael, no matter that he was now the one who had to twist his neck around to manage it. "But any alpha insane enough to think it's okay to hurt an omega like that…who doesn't hear 'no', who stalks an omega…that isn't the sort of alpha who is going to respect a claim. See, I know his type. In his mind, he's already claimed the omega as his, never mind biology or laws, and as his property it's his right to do whatever he likes with his omega. Even beat him to death. If anything, you claiming him would enrage him worse, and who knows what he'd have done in his rage."
At the words 'beat him to death', Jane shuddered and Michael inadvertently tightened his hold enough to make Jack squirm again.
"You're okay," Jane half crooned to Jack as Michael quickly loosened his hold to something gentler. Then, in the same half crooning tone, she said, "Where is the rest of my Pack?" Because it was only the four of them in the room.
"I sent the children to keep an eye out for the doctor," Michael answered. "Ellen is with them."
"And Angus?"
"Oh…is he Pack now?" That was Bert, sounding amused in spite of everything. "Poor Chalky, losing half his Pack in one go. Angus went to light the lamps."
"Alone?" Jane asked, her voice deceptively calm as she continued to stroke Jack's hair.
"He's a grown man, and it is his job," Bert pointed out gently, knowing she couldn't help her instincts but that didn't give her the right to become her Pack's jailer, particularly as Angus hadn't actually agreed to be in her Pack yet.
"…There's a mad alpha still out there who has already attacked one omega leerie…and now Angus is doubtless doing Jack's route…alone…"
Well, when she put it like that, perhaps it would have been a good idea to have held Angus back. Bert actually flushed a bit and tilted his head, submissive to another alpha's reprimand. Michael, on the other hand, was having none of it.
"What exactly could we have done differently?" he demanded, voice low and soft enough not to disturb Jack, but clearly displeased. "Stop every omega leerie from doing their job until the mad alpha is destroyed? Make them double up when they are already stretched too thin? Or I suppose next you'll be saying omegas shouldn't have such a dangerous job as lighting lamps. As far as we know, the only leerie the wicked alpha is interested in is Jack. And he's here, with us. So you can stop growling at Bert."
To which Jane and Bert shared a look, alpha to alpha, that acknowledged that Jane was right, but they were going to humor Michael, because he was sort of right too. Michael noticed the look, and might well have responded to it to share his displeasure, but at that moment there was a cacophony of cries from the other room.
The doctor had arrived on their lane and the children sang out the alarm. The noise was followed by clear attempts to shush each other, and then came a respectful and quiet knock at the bedroom door.
Bert opened it because none of them wanted to shout to allow them entry in case it disturbed Jack.
"Aunt Jane," said Annabel, "the doctor and his omega assistant are here. May we open the front door to let them in?"
"Yes, thank you for asking first," Jane answered softly and sweetly, and then gave Bert a significant look over Michael's head, and she didn't even need to ask before the older alpha headed for the front door after them.
Michael noticed the looks anyway.
"I don't actually mind you being protective of my children," he said, sounding perhaps grumpier than the situation called for. "If you want an alpha to open the door for them, you can say so."
"Tetchy," Jane answered with a sort of smile (she was too anxious still for a full smile).
"Well…you got to sleep half the day. I've had three anxious children to entertain indoors, along with a sore omega who doesn't like being in bed and likes to pretend he's fine, and an anxious alpha who spent the day trying to pretend he wasn't anxious in the least. Why everyone in this house has to pretend all the time…"
"Pretending is fun," said Georgie as the children walked back into the room in front of Bert and the doctor. Michael rather ate his own words with the speed in which he tried to arrange his face into something less anxious and irritable so as to keep his children at ease.
The doctor waited in the doorway politely for Jane to invite him in, which she did.
"I'm happy to see you did find another alpha to help guard your pack," said the doctor, eyeing Bert as he walked past him into the room, the omega assistant at his heels. "Now, let me see how our young man is faring."
And while he said 'let me' in the authoritative sort of way all professionals got, he meant it literally as well, because alphas are not always reasonable in the protection of injured or ill pack members. Jane rather found she wanted to growl at the intruders, in fact, but she had enough sense to allow the doctor closer instead.
Bert had a worse time of it, not actually knowing the doctor, but this wasn't his territory and, love for all of them aside, it wasn't strictly his Pack, so despite being older he bowed to Jane's authority and had plenty of self-control to refrain from doing more than glaring. The omega's presence helped, too. He stayed in the background, but his clear alliance with the doctor went far towards easing the tension.
With some reluctance, Michael disentangled himself from the sick omega on the bed, then ushered his children back out of the room, to the children's equal displeasure. It wasn't even completely about protecting his children from the reality of exactly how badly Jack had been hurt, either. The fewer vulnerable pack members in the room, the less anxious the two alphas would be about the non-pack members' intrusion.
"But, we want to help…" Annabel protested, while John tried, "We can stand out of the way," and Georgie said, "We can sing to Uncle Jack and calm him down again."
Michael, with long experience, didn't even bother to argue but had them out of the room and the door closed in moments.
The first thing the doctor did, upon being allowed to approach Jack, was to lean over him and pat at his cheek.
"Jack?" said the doctor in a gentle but firm tone, and Jack made a distressed noise but didn't open his eyes. Jane growled at the doctor. The omega assistant was quick to intercede.
"It's okay," she crooned gently. "The doctor only wants to assess him, not hurt him."
"It would be better if he were able to wake up," the doctor explained gently. "I'd prefer to be able to talk to him. And if he can't wake up, taking his temperature will be unpleasant for him."
Still glaring, Jane nonetheless acknowledged the doctor's words, and turned to Jack herself, gently patting at his cheek (the one that wasn't all bruised, of course).
"Jack?" she said, soft through habit, then reminding herself she wasn't meant to be soothing him back to sleep she tried again, more loudly. "Jack? Can you answer me, please?"
Jack made more distressed noises, but he didn't open his eyes or even make an attempt towards a coherent answer.
"His temperature appears to be very high," the doctor observed. "It's not a good sign if he's unable to become coherent."
"Jack?" Jane tried again, louder yet again as she felt her own heartbeat speeding up with worry and concern. "Jack, wake up."
"Ja…" Jack said, what might have been an attempt at her name or might just have been more noises, but Jane was desperate enough to take it as a good sign.
"That's it, Jack, wake up, come on. The doctor is here to take your temperature and he's going to make you feel better."
But Jack still didn't open his eyes. His face did sort of scrunch up, like he was aware at least on some level of what was happening and he didn't like it, but he didn't attempt anything else resembling words, just more distressed noises.
"Jack?" Jane said again, pleading and terrified.
"This isn't entirely unexpected," the doctor said, his tone gentle but all too serious to be reassuring. Of course, it wasn't his job to be reassuring; it was his job to find out what ailed Jack and do his best to help him. So, to that end, he said, "Help me undress him. I need to take his temperature, and I need to find out what is causing the fever in the first place. If there's an infection in his wounds, or if his weakened body picked up an illness or it could simply be the stress of everything. We need to bring the fever down, whatever the cause."
The first time the doctor had examined Jack had been uncomfortable and awkward but necessary. This time, with Jack not even coherent, it felt almost like a violation. At least they were able to leave his pants on this time as they already knew there were no significant wounds hidden there (and it turned out Jack was coherent enough to hold the thermometer in his mouth…at least he was when Jane begged him to not spit it out; he still didn't open his eyes but he responded to her).
Even as they waited on the thermometer, the doctor had his assistant unwind the bandages and he himself dug in his bag for a needle and some drugs. Jane worked hard to not panic, if only because Jack was definitely responding to her voice and she didn't want to upset him.
"106 degrees" was the pronouncement when the thermometer was removed, and as though in attempt to contrast, Jane felt like a shard of ice had pierced her heart. Too high was an understatement, and the doctor didn't even attempt to console them that Jack would be fine.
Bert hovered, probably rather in the way. He had gone quite pale, in fact, and the pronouncement of the temperature was only partly to blame. It was the first time for him to actually see the damage done to Jack's torso.
"No infection here," the doctor remarked, as if it were perfectly healthy for a back to look like that…black and blue and yellow and sewn shut in a few places and…and Bert was going to kill the alpha who did this. No matter that technically Jane had prior claim, that even Chalky currently had greater claim than Bert at the moment. He was going to kill him.
Just as soon as Jack was better. Jack had to get better.
The doctor looked far too serious when he directed the closest tub to be filled with cool water, as he prepared an injection, as he quietly explained that they had to get Jack's fever down right now, or there could be permanent damage. He didn't say, or Jack could die, but it was rather telling that he also didn't reassure anyone that that wasn't an option.
That wasn't an option.
They stripped away the remains of Jack's clothes after all, because there was no point in modesty in a medical emergency and they were in the way in the tub.
They rather wished that Jack would open his eyes and protest. He wasn't even whimpering anymore. He'd gone utterly limp, even as Jane lowered him into the water.
For the longest five minutes of any of their lives, Jack lay still, and his fever burned, and Jane and Bert watched and wondered how it could have come to this so quickly.
And then Jack started to shiver, and made a whining sort of protest, and he opened his eyes.
"Well," said the doctor, "This will make taking his temperature again much easier. Jack looked at him, blinked a few times, then turned to look at Jane and Bert, as though waiting for an explanation.
Jane would have felt better if he'd actually ask why he was sitting naked in a tub while they all watched him, but the fact that he was awake at all felt like a blessing.
"You had a bit of a fever," she explained, despite the fact that Jack hadn't actually asked. "We had to bring it down."
"I believe he can come out now," the doctor said. "The medicine seems to be doing its work."
And when his temperature was taken again, it was a not quite so alarming 102. Half an hour before, if Jane had learned that Jack had a fever of 102, she'd have been alarmed. Now she felt relieved.
"Well young man," said the doctor, as they redid his bandages and helped to settle Jack back in the bed. "You gave us quite a fright. I would feel better if you could answer some questions. Verbally."
Jack looked at the doctor, then at Jane again, who gave him an encouraging sort of look, then at Bert, who hadn't quite lost that mixture of murderous rage, horror, and worry that had entered his expression when he first saw Jack's naked back. Bert nonetheless also tried to offer an encouraging look. From the slightly alarmed way Jack stared back, Bert suspected he'd missed the mark.
"Is everyone alright?" were the first words Jack said since the entire ordeal began. Not quite as clearly as he'd normally say the words; there was a slight slur and a slight hoarseness to his voice, but he was perfectly coherent.
It probably didn't reassure Jack in the slightest that his question was met by Jane bursting into tears and Bert, looking seconds away from following suite. The doctor patted Jack on the arm.
"They've just had a trying time," he said gently. "Do try to get some rest. Rest will do you a world of good."
The doctor stayed with them until Jack's fever had dwindled to 99.8. He left them with more medicine, and many whispered instructions.
"But what caused the fever?" Jane wanted to know. "Is he sick?"
"Not as such," the doctor answered. "The simple answer is stress. Omegas are naturally weaker than alphas or betas, and the stress of being attacked and injured was too much for him to handle." It was probably just as well that Michael was still outside the room with the children; he wouldn't have taken that well. Jane wasn't sure she accepted such a simplistic explanation either. Jack spiked a fever just because he was weak? Jane glanced at the doctor's omega assistant. If she had been anything like Michael, she'd be taking offense at that moment, but she merely smiled kindly and sympathetically, doing her job of calming the stressed alphas in the room and not seeming to care what the doctor implied about omegas.
"It has been known to happen in similar cases," the doctor added, clearly sensing her dissatisfaction with his answer.
"Jack didn't seem stressed before all this," Bert said, frowning as well. "He was just resting, in fact."
"Well…it could also be he picked up some minor ailment, and in his weakened state it spiraled out of control," the doctor suggested.
"And is it likely to happen again?" Jane wanted to know.
"He responded well to the medicine," the doctor said, which wasn't a yes or a no and not at all reassuring.
The doctor and his assistant were repacking his bag and preparing to leave when Bert dragged him aside.
"How likely is this to kill Jack," he whispered, not wanting anyone else to hear but needing to know.
If he had hoped for the doctor to say "Not a chance" then he was disappointed.
"He is in a precarious position right now," the doctor said instead. "Another fever like that and…it wouldn't be good. His body is weakened, and he is stressed. He was…stalked, yes? By a rival alpha? And beaten. Omegas are fragile; I can see you don't like me saying that, but they are. If he had simply gotten his injuries by accident…falling maybe…I wouldn't be so concerned, but the stress of being attacked…there have been similar cases in the past, as I said, and they did not all end well. Having his Pack around him will help. If he can be kept quiet and resting…he is already healing some and nothing in the way of his wounds is fatal. I would like to say he will have a full recovery but…I cannot tell you that death is not a possibility. Not yet. Keep to his medication schedule and stay close to him. I do not think he will die, but I cannot tell you he won't."
The doctor left and the rest of the pack was allowed back in the room. The children were surprisingly quiet, subdued even. They clearly sensed the seriousness of what had just happened, even if they didn't know the details. At least, the adults were fairly certain the children didn't know the details. Sometimes, they seemed to have a supernatural knowledge of everything going on.
"Is Uncle Jack alright?" John whispered as they gathered close to him.
"I'm fine," whispered Jack right back.
"You are supposed to be resting," Jane scolded gently.
"Am resting. Look, my eyes are closed and everything."
"Do you want us to sing for you?" Georgie asked.
"That would be lovely," Jack answered, so the children did, and slowly the tension eased from the entire room. At least it did, until there came yet another knock at their front door.
"Is it the doctor coming back?" John asked.
"Perhaps it's Angus," Michael suggested, "Or one of the other leeries."
"It's a policeman," Ellen announced. "Shall I let him in?"
This time, Michael held the children in the room and Bert went to answer the door alone.
Author's Note: All that trouble I went through in my 'Sickness and Health' story to change Fahrenheit to Celsius…and I've just looked it up and discovered England hadn't converted to Celsius yet in that time period. Oh well. I'll probably fix my other story later. Maybe. For those who prefer Celsius and are curious, 106 degrees Fahrenheit is the same as 41.1 degrees Celsius. And 99.8 is 37.7.
Also, take all the doctor's talk of 'omegas are fragile and weak' with a grain of salt; he may be a professional but he is a bit of an unreliable narrator here. Which isn't to say he's wrong…just I'm also not saying he's right.