Chapter 5 - What Me Worry?

Susan's conversation with Jonathon's aunt only lasted a few minutes, which time Myria and Jessica spent trying to one-up each other in soppiness. Myria did not understand why being happy should also make her cry. It seemed completely inappropriate, but she decided to go with it for the moment and attempt to puzzle it out later. They were interrupted when Susan finally let Aunt Rosemarie go to fuss over Jonathon, while Susan rounded on them.

She smiled a tight smile. "If you two don't stop, you will leave puddles on the floor to mop up." Her face softened. "Jessica, I am sorry to interrupt. May I speak with Myria privately for a moment? Thank you." She didn't wait for a response, though Jessica did get a nod in, as Susan took Myria by the arm and led her back downstairs.

Susan seemed very intent. Should she not be happy? The fact that she wasn't concerned Myria. "Is something wrong?"

"Perhaps. I have some things to check into. I will try to stop by later tonight or tomorrow to see how everyone is getting on."

"Is it serious?"

Susan frowned. "I'm not sure…" She gestured out the window at the men still hovering outside. "The fact that they sent four watchmen h-"

"Six."

Susan stopped and tilted her head at Myria. "Excuse me?"

"Six." Myria found she did not like correcting Susan. She could feel that it made Susan tense, but she couldn't stop herself. "There were two on the rooftops nearby with what appeared to be crossbows."

Susan was silent for a second, then took a slow breath. "As I was saying. The fact that they sent six watchmen tells us that something serious is afoot. And it involves you. Miss Rosemarie said they arrived as soon as the family reported Jonathon was missing, and they asked a lot of questions about you."

More of the joy at being back in the bakery fled. "Susan, am I endangering his family by being here?"

Susan sighed. "Oh do stop. What will you do if I say yes? Run away again so that poor fool has to hobble after you?" She shook her head. "You are not putting the Knäckes in danger from the Watch. The commander has a reputation for honesty and pig-headedness, and his men follow his lead." She took a breath. Let it out. "No, it is not Jonathon's family that is in danger."

Myria considered Susan's words as the two women looked at each other silently for a moment. "Yes. Yes I believe I understand. Thank you Susan, for all that you have done for me."

"Pray stop mentioning it. I could become weepy." Susan smiled grimly. "I will return tonight or tomorrow. Do not worry unnecessarily."

As Susan left the bakery, Myria considered. Do not worry unnecessarily. What an interesting turn of phrase. So she could worry, as long as it was necessary. That seemed prudent.

Now she just had to determine which things were necessary to worry about, and which were not. That… seemed much more complicated.

"I shall have to consider that carefully," she murmured to herself as she went back upstairs.

The Knäcke household as a group spent the next hour or so fussing over Jonathon as a group. Myria noted with some concern, though she opted not to worry about it, that his uncle was avoiding looking at her. His aunt on the other hand seemed somewhat reserved, but polite. Jessica was clearly overjoyed to have her back. There was one thing that concerned her there as well, and she determined to worry about it aloud.

"Jessica, you appear to be unwell, and I can see that you are unsteady."

Jessica rolled her eyes. "Gods Myria, you are as bad as my mother."

"Well it's good to see Myria has some sense, even if you don't." Rosemarie quipped. "Myria would you..." She shot a look at Pars, who seemed to tense but did not otherwise react. "Would you help Jessica to her room? Her legs are still unsteady, no matter what she says."

"Of course." Myria followed Jessica, who was still eye-rolling and snorting, out the door of Jonathon's room. As soon as they were out in the common area, Jessica leaned on her, and she could feel her trembling slightly. "Jessica, you are more unwell than you were showing."

"It's alright." She gave a wan smile. "I'm just tired now. I was so happy to see you, I may have overdone it some."

Myria, for the second time today, helped a Knäcke to their bed. It seemed to be becoming a habit, and both times were through her fault. She felt another wave of guilt. "Why did you not say something before?" She asked as she eased Jessica into her bed.

"I didn't want to steal Jonny's spotlight." She giggled, then sobered. "No seriously, my parents have enough to worry about, and I'm just tired now, not really sick."

"It is my fault, is it not? I am sorry."

"No! No this isn't really your fault. It was… something else."

"What do you mean?"

Jessica tensed, took a deep breath, and over the next few minutes told Myria about her exposure to the Auditors, and Susan's intervention.[1]

As she spoke, Myria felt a new emotion. She had felt upset before. She knew that one. And she had felt fear. And anger. This felt somewhat like anger, but she could taste something else flavoring it. There probably isn't a single word that sums up the emotion, really. It's the complex blend that someone who escapes from a cult feels when they learn that the group has gone after someone they care about. Or the emotions a person might feel after they rescue a sack-full of puppies from the river Ankh[2]. Probably the closest descriptive would be "righteous wrath". It's what turns formerly quiet and mousy humans into Crusaders for Justice[3]. Her eyes practically burned with it. "They dared? How dare they. I will… I will destroy them if they return. I will destroy them a-"

Jessica paled and grabbed Myria's clenched hands, prying her fingers open. "Please Myria. Don't!" She put her right hand on Myria's face to get her full attention. "I don't think I can handle thinking about… that… just now."

Myria felt the emotion drain away, replaced quickly by guilt again. Of course, the thought of me seeking retribution… "I am sorry. I did not think now how reference to that would affect you. And I am sorry for what happened. I was not myself."

Jessica gritted her teeth. "You're still talking about it. Stop. Let's just move on."

"How?"

Jessica looked at her, confused. "How what?"

"How do you move on?"

Jessica shrugged, glad to see the topic shifting. "I don't know. You just try to forget, or gloss over, or think about other things. Maybe it's selective memory, the brain walls things off that are too painful."

"I am not sure my brain works that way. I cannot keep from thinking about it."

Jessica frowned. "Well crap. That could be a problem down the road. Won't that make you nuts?"

"If you mean mentally imbalanced, I am not sure. I would hope not."

Jessica laughed. "Myria, you are one odd bird. But I like you that way. Definitely not boring." She yawned. "Now go see to Jonathon, I'm going to take a nap."

Back in Jonathon's room, Myria was glad to see that he was sleeping, with his aunt sitting next to him. He looked very peaceful and she stood for a few moments, enjoying the sight before asking her next question.

"Where is Jonathon's uncle?"

"Pars went downstairs. We need to see if we can salvage the lunch hour." Rosemarie cast a dark look out the window. "That is, if those men don't run off all the customers." She made as if to pat Jonathon's hand, and stopped herself. "I should go and help. I can't sit here watching Jonny the rest of the day, and we're shorthanded as it is." She stood and stretched her back.

"Would I be allowed to assist?"

Rosemarie paused in mid-stretch, slowly lowering her arms. She looked toward the stairs for a moment and chewed her lip. "Well. Well." She seemed to reach a decision. "Yes. Yes you will, and I'll welcome the help."

Myria noted that she used the singular, and not the plural. Jonathon's uncle, it seemed, would not be so welcoming. It hurt.

Watching Uncle Pars spend the rest of the morning carefully avoiding her, while still somehow getting work done with her, also hurt. But it was tempered somewhat by what she rediscovered in the bakery; a sense of belonging, of having a role to play. As she helped with the sifting and mixing and kneading, she felt that connection to humanity, one that she determined she would never give up again.

[1] For the full story regarding this, see Old Stoneface's previous story "From Dust to Flesh" chapters 23-25.

[2] Granted, no puppies ever drowned from being thrown into the river Ankh, though usually they ended up banged up from hitting the surface. It would take quite a bit more weight to eventually sink into that mess. But it's the thought that counts. Also, being cooped up in a sack with a half dozen siblings is a crime in itself.

[3] Capital letters included. No extra charge.

[A/N: I was struggling with the writing at the time of this chapter, the feedback from Sir Henry and the guest reviewers. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated regarding what you liked and anything that needs to be fixed. Thanks for your time!"