Happy Cure-a-versary! [10th Year Celebration]

There are little feet pitter-pattering outside of Jeshan's room. There have been little feet pitter-pattering outside of his room for close to a half hour now, and he's begun to wonder if maybe he should call out to Lajila; usually she prefers to come at her own time on her own terms, but he's beginning to get worried. Of course just as Jeshan thinks it, his door finally quietly creaks open, and his little visitor tiptoes inside. He considers sitting up until he hears a poorly stifled giggle, and instead remains in his warm huddle of blankets with a smile. 

“Be quiet, Meep, we gotta be sneaky.” she whispers as best as she can, the sound loud in the quiet stillness of dawn. Jeshan loves this little one so very much. 

He hears her creep closer to his bed before leaping and landing on the mattress near him, but never near enough to land on him; that had been a painful, upsetting lesson for the both of them. Jeshan stays still and quiet as Laji bounces on the bed, calling his name amidst numerous good mornings as Meep and Trash Baby make their presences known in a cacophony of squeaks and croaks. His silence continues until Laji finally stops bouncing and crawls up the bed near his head. 

“Jeshan?” she whispers, peeking her head under the covers, and Jeshan swings his arms forward in a move that will make his shoulders ache later; it’s worth it to hear her shriek with laughter, giggling as he squeezes her tight for a moment. 

“Good morning, sweetie!” he says, barely keeping hold of her, Meep, and Trash Baby all at once. Laji manages to laugh out another good morning before she finally flops against his side as he sits up, adjusting the pillow as he goes.

Unsurprisingly she is fast asleep by the time he manages to locate his glasses (on the wrong shelf, again) and slip them on; as energetic and happy as Laji is during the day, it takes her at least two hours to wake up in the morning, and she most certainly had been up since at least five. 

Jeshan rearranges himself slowly, careful both to keep from waking the little child curled into his side and to keep his leg from screaming in pain. Once he is sitting up, he turns to the next problem at hand; his medicine box is across the bed on the opposite nightstand, and his shoulders are already beginning to throb from scooping up Laji.

Before he can even begin to worry over how he'll reach his medications, Meep squiggles her way out of Laji’s arms, leaving Trash Baby to cuddle closer, and pads easily to the edge of the bed. The pill box is delicately picked up in her mouth and deposited in his lap in the blink of an eye; in the next moment she drags his water cup to him, holding it in her mouth until he takes it. 

The cup itself is plastic, an oddity for dextroluma, but one that Jeshan desperately needs: countless glass and ceramic cups have already fallen victim to his shaking hands and sudden numbness accompanied by his grip going limp. Bahira’s sibling had brought it to him after hearing of his struggles, and it is a gift to have, especially with a handle on each side.

The water carafe by his side was specially made for him by Edur himself, large enough to hold plenty of water with spells for hot or cold carved in and activated by command; the greatest feature is the spigot at the base with a large handle, so that even when his grip fails he can still nudge it open. Now, Meep reaches over and gently bites it, turning her head until water flows through and into the cup. The moment he moves the cup and places it to the side, she closes the spigot. 

Jeshan counts pills into his hand carefully. One, two, three, four, five, six. One to soothe his joints and make walking feel less like needles stabbing through his leg, one for his ever-present migraines, three to help with all the broken glass in his head, the last to help the vertigo that is something of a constant companion in his life these days. 

Swallow them down, wait ten minutes. Drops in eyes, one, two, wait five minutes. Drops in eyes, one two, three four. Pray that today they are working to do their job, because the symptoms he has developed from the curing, starvation, and traumatic injuries he suffered have made an ungodly mess that none of the doctors or healers know entirely what to do with. Piece by piece, they put him together, and piece by piece he continues to hold in hopes that one day he will at least be crumbling pieces together again, if not whole. 

Jeshan wonders how long it has been since he was brought here, since he was cured and began to recover here. Meep dutifully fetches the small satchel of Theo’s trail mix that he can stomach even on his worst days and presents it to him the moment she sees him holding his last pill in his hand. Take with food, Pradeep had said, or it will make the side effects much worse. 

And so Jeshan takes it every day after a handful of whatever he can keep down that morning, and he wonders where this will all leave him. If the progress he has made is equal to the progress he has yet to make. If curing him was even worth anyone’s time, after all the damage Nirnasha had done to his body, after all the neglect he inflicted on himself. 

A dull pressure on his arm. Jeshan glances down and sees Meep’s jaw carefully pressing down, enough pressure to bring him back to himself without wounding him. He thanks her with a tired smile, and recenters himself as he glances down at Laji, still sleeping peacefully. 

This recovery has been worth it, to becomes something akin to a parent to a child as good as she is. Pradeep’s praise and smiles have made his long, difficult path worth it, and will continue to do so until he can stand alone. Theo’s love and compassion make the darkest nights worth continuing. He can’t remember when he started down this path, and he is far from reaching the end of it; but for now, he leans back beside Laji and begins the small exercises Batu taught him to do to ease his aches and pains. 

***

Lajila wakes in another hour, sitting bolt upright and staring at Jeshan with such big eyes that he has to laugh. She scrambles out of his bed and begins running through his room, collecting his cane, compression gloves, and foot-pads as she goes. 

“Jeshan we have to GO it’s an anniversary!!” she cries, and Jeshan makes himself pay closer attention, carefully swinging his legs out of bed one at a time. He accepts each aid that she hands him with a smile and a quiet thank you.

“An anniversary, sweetheart? What for?” he asks, and watches her foot thump against the ground in three swift movements: she doesn’t want to tell him but doesn’t want to upset him with silence.

“Well, no matter,” he continues, smiling at her to soothe whatever is worrying her, “I am excellent at celebrating anniversaries. I can cook us some lunch, make us a cake, how does that sound?”

Laji’s eyes go wide and sparkle ever so slightly, like they always do when he mentions cake, and then she bites her lip, little face screwing into exaggerated, adorable concentration.

“Um…yes. Yes, that sounds good, I’ll! Um I’m gonna go. Tell the kitchens. And you can meet me there. Okay bye see you soon I love you!” she calls as she hurries out of his room, and Jeshan smiles after her as she goes, Trash Baby and Meep in fast pursuit. It’s a lucky thing, too; dressing is always an ordeal on low energy, high fatigue days, and he managed very little sleep. 

Still, an anniversary, even one that he is unaware of, is a special occasion, and Jeshan intends to look the part however he can. Accessories, jewelry, and layers are all out, but the rolls of fabric Theo brought him from the Fairy Glen and helped him to prepare should still be respectable enough. 

One shift underneath, worn for warmth, covered in a beautifully flower patterned piece of cloth that drapes gently on his shoulders. A belt or a tied sash requires too much possible energy that may be needed for cooking or socializing, so instead he chooses the belt made of delicate metal rings that Sendoa bought for him, which can easily clip together. A gaudy, glistening shawl over all of it, temporarily laying across his arm, ready to be put on once any cooking is done. 

With one last glance through the room, Jeshan pockets his dose of the cure for the bell, and makes his way to the kitchens. 

***

By the time Jeshan manages to reach the kitchens, most of the breakfast baking has been completed, and all that is left to be cooked are meats, vegetables, grains, and eggs for the morning meal. He spots Laji easily among the steam and cooks, and makes his way over carefully. The station she has chosen is the only one with a table at a low enough height for him to sit at comfortably, and she seems to have acquired a chair for him from somewhere unknown. 

He sits carefully and smiles at her expectant look. “What would you like for this anniversary, Laji? What kind of food and cake?”

Laji hums, tapping her cheek in a motion clearly copied from Pradeep. “Well..what are your favorite foods, Jeshan? We make mine all the time, so. So we should try some of yours too!”

Jeshan sets his face in a smile, and refuses to let any of his pain or fears seep through. “Ah, well. I can’t remember most of my favorite foods, sweetheart. So why don’t we use yours?” he asks, and tries not to feel guilty as Laji’s face slips from confusion to sadness to determination.

“Um. Okay, how about! We check in some cooking notebooks!! I’ll. I’ll go do that, and I’ll be right back!” she calls, already halfway across the kitchen and waving goodbye before she’s finished speaking. Jeshan waves in response and sighs as she leaves the room. He certainly could have handled that better. A lie, next time, would do best.

The bell sounds in the distance, and Jeshan automatically pulls out his dose of the cure, unstopping the bottle and swallowing the whole mess down in one swift motion. The taste immediately makes him tear up, and as always the potion riots in his stomach the moment it hits. A wooden cup, carved in the form of a tankard but smaller and with two handles is placed by his side, and he sends a grateful smile to Chef Yavi as she passes him by. 

She had been the one cooking his meals from the very beginning, refusing to lose him to starvation first and the curing process second. Even now he remembers the teas and waters she created solely to guide him through his illness, and he is ever grateful that she sees to him even now. The tea this morning is far kinder than beef tea or toast-water, a lovely floral blend that soothes the burning in his throat and the pain in his stomach, at least as much as it is able to. 

They pass at least ten minutes in pleasant conversation with each other as Yavi sees to the many fires, both figurative and literal, in the kitchens, bringing him tools when she has a moment, now used to his presence in her space. A large cutting board, placed just so on the table, a knife with a handle that keeps his wrist straight rather than twisted, measuring cups and teaspoons that have thick handles that withstand his tremors, an apron that clips rather than ties and a kind, non judgemental pair of hands to help him into it. 

He is so very loved here, and it makes his heart ache with happiness every time he sees it, every time he realizes that he truly was never a burden, especially on days when the feeling is impossible to escape. 

By the time Laji finally makes it back into the kitchen, Jeshan has begun chopping potatoes and onions, staples in most dishes, and Edur has joined him at his table, sitting silently and forming lovely looking dumplings. She presses a journal to his side, and he takes it, looking at the cover for a long moment. 

It is leather, deep green and thrumming with a quiet sort of magic. The cover is embossed with an intricate print of a beetle, labeling parts of the anatomy in a careful hand. It is so familiar to Jeshan that it aches, but he can’t put a finger on why. 

Evidently he is taking too long to actually look inside the journal, as Laji gently tugs it back and flips to two recipes, written out side by side: one for lentil and volcano mushroom curry, and another for a red currant cake. It’s the most bizarre organization system for recipes that Jeshan has ever seen, though his brain is more focused on the familiar look of the handwriting. Laji pokes his side, and he shakes himself free of his thoughts to smile down at her. 

“Let’s get started then!” 

From that point on, cooking the anniversary meal is a familiar affair; collect the ingredients, prepare them, follow the recipe. A curry on the stove bubbling away, a cake in the oven smelling lovely, a fine broth with small chunks of vegetables for a delicate taste added to a pitcher, just in case. Different friendly faces flit in and out of the kitchen, each stopping to prepare something before continuing on their way. 

Three bells have passed before Jeshan finally surfaces from the calming, gentle sway of a cooking haze. It occurs to him as he is preparing the last carafe of fruit juice that decorations hadn’t once occurred to him, and he turns to find Laji lying on the ground, eye to eye with Meep. 

“Sweetheart, we haven’t done a thing for decorations. Is there still time for me to help you set something up?” he asks, and she scrambles to her feet, hopping to his side and reaching for something to carry. 

“Is okay. Are we ready?” Jeshan is fairly certain that it’s not okay, actually, but he is also fairly certain that it is too late to fix now. He carefully slips his arm under the bread basket, the only thing light enough to not cause additional strain, and picks up his cane. 

“We’re ready.” 

***

Laji skips and dances down the hallway, growing more and more excited as they walk on, and Jeshan finds himself smiling and laughing as she goes, her happiness as infectious as always. She moves with confidence down the many halls of the sanctuary, and Jeshan eventually determines that she is leading them out to one of the pavilions. The mountains out one archway and flower fields out another tells him that she has chosen the pavilion nearest to the lake that warms beautifully with the sun, but is shaded enough from it to not be blinding. 

As they step into the pavilion proper, Jeshan catches a now-familiar whiff of lilacs, and the recipes, handwriting, and journal all click into place a moment before he is caught in a firm but careful multi-armed hug. Theo, who is currently meant to be running exams at Foresthearth, walks himself and Jeshan further into the pavilion, and he looks around with a slowly dawning warmth flooding his system. 

Friends and colleagues from Foresthearth are intermixed with the friends he has made within the sanctuary, and a banner overhead reads-

“Laji,” he begins, processing the words “Happy Cure-a-versary!” that have been carefully scrawled out in a childish hand, “whose anniversary is it?” 

Laji beams up at him with all the light and warmth of the sun, bouncing in place. “Yours! It’s been a whole year since you were first cured and we always have little parties but I wanted yours to be SO SPECIAL so. Surprise!” 

Theo carefully braces him a moment before Laji hops into his legs and clings tight; Jeshan swallows around the growing lump in his throat and smiles down at her, running a hand over her head. 

“Sweetheart, this is absolutely wonderful. Thank you so much. All of you,” he adds, looking around the pavilion at those he holds dear, “I…wouldn’t have made it so far without all of you. And while I am worried for what the future may entail, I know that I can weather it all with you all on my side.”

Jeshan’s first year of being cured is marked like this: an enormous party with friends far and wide, with even his amma Salka arriving late and arm in arm with a lovely fairy. There is delicious food and drink, enjoyed wonderfully under warm sunlight and in gentle shade. There is companionship and love beyond what Jeshan had ever dared hope for in those dark five years he spent corrupted and hunted like an animal. 

The road ahead is no easier thanks to a party now; even as Jeshan enjoys his anniversary, he can feel the constant ache in his shoulder, the throb in his leg, the way the room begins to spin or darken at the edges if he stands for too long. But it is lighter for the reminder of this:

Jeshan is loved, and he is not alone. Whatever path he must walk, he can and will walk with the knowledge that should he stumble or fall, there will be hands to pull him to his feet, to set him to rights again.  Even on the days when his pains and health make it unbearable to do anything at all, let alone exist, he will never have to fight through alone.

He settles back against Theo and lets Laji crawl into his lap, Trash Baby and Meep in tow, and closes his eyes. Here amidst friends who love him, on the day exactly a year after first being administered the cure, there is the beginning of peace. 

And what a beautiful gift it is.