#also some more subtle references to my take on joan's past and death owo

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Where The Lamb Sleeps Under The White Tiger’s Tail

some fluff but it’s actually lucid and angsty at first but turns soft

--------------

She knows there’s a lot that Joan isn’t telling her. There are dark bruises beneath her eyes, and she doesn’t sleep, not really. Bessie or Maria or Maggie sometimes say they come downstairs in the middle of the night to get a glass of water and find her sitting in the kitchen, a cold cup of tea nearby and her mind far away.

They say her eyes are distant. Glazed. Glassy.

They say she looks blind.

That is usually enough to set a worried stone in Jane’s stomach. Of course she’s going be concerned over Joan- she was her former lady in waiting and she was so young. But, damnit all, that girl was hard to figure out!

Joan was just as clueless, really. About knowing herself. She didn’t. She didn’t know who she was outside of the memories left behind from when she served under Jane. However, before and after the queen’s death...nothing.

She just couldn’t remember.

Did she have insomnia in her past life? She wonders that a lot. Because it’s been five days and you would at least THINK she would be tired (and she is, yeah, and it hurts to stay awake, yes, but she just can’t rest, y’know?) but...sleep feels impossible.

It isn't for lack of trying. She's laid in her bed hundreds of times, under the covers, lights off (but the dark is bad. the dark is smothering. the dark is agony), eyes closed for what feels like hours. Time tends to bend and twist when all she wants to do is close her eyes and rest. Seconds always feel like minutes, and minutes are hours, and honestly, just laying in her bed waiting for sleep seems to be making her more awake, and that is completely unfair. 

She should be tired. She should be exhausted. But she just...isn’t.

Anxiety. That’s what Joan thinks is the reason her insomnia is so bad. She’s always got things she has to do as music director and if she sleeps then she loses time, and if she loses time she doesn’t get stuff done, and if she doesn’t get stuff done then people get mad.

And that is not something she wants to happen.

But there’s something else, too. A fear worse than the anxiety. Something cold and painful.

So, so painful...

Micro-sleep has set in, she realizes. Short seconds of rest because she snaps awake with enough of a jerk to give her whiplash. Like now, and she rubbed her neck after the hard flinch her entire body did.

   “Joan?”

Joan blinked away black spots and then smiled at Jane, who was standing beside the chair she was sitting in.

   “It’s time to leave, love.” Jane told her.

   “Oh!” Joan jumped up, but that makes her head spin and suddenly she feels nauseous and her legs won’t work and- is the ground getting closer...?

   “Easy,” Jane murmured and Joan realizes the queen had caught her, “Easy, honey. I’ve got you.”

   “Sorry,” Joan said quickly, straightening up.

   “Are you feeling okay?” Jane asked as if she didn’t already know about the girl’s obvious sleeping issues.

   “Yeah,” Joan answered swiftly, almost getting prickly. She always hated that question.

   “If you insist,” Jane muttered, deciding not to push it. The worry was unbearable, though. She hated seeing her Joan like this.

That’s when a light bulb went off in her head.

   “Would you like to come over for dinner tonight?”

Joan couldn’t help but perk up. She always loved being able to spend time with the queen, so, of course, she agreed.

Jane’s plan was like a bear trap and she just fell right into it.

Bear...

Trap?

Bear trap

Bear trap

Bear trap—

the screaming the blood the cold the pain it’s the only thing the only thing the HELP SOMEBODY HELP only thing she can remember but-

Joan’s crying into the casserole Jane made and she would almost laugh at how funny that sounds if her lungs weren’t knotted up and her ankle didn’t feel like it was on fire. Her chest and neck, too, but the pain wasn’t the familiar burn a panic attack caused. No, this was different. This was worse.

Actually, the humiliation is probably the thing that’s worse because all the queens were staring at her.

By the way, when did she get to Jane’s house? How long has she been there? Was her brain that muddled?

A voice cuts through the fog in her mind and cotton in her ears. A strong, yet warm voice ordering everyone out.

Then, a touch on her shoulder.

   “I froze,” She tells Jane, barely a whisper.

Jane is silent. She’s crouched beside the dining table chair, kinda like a tiger waiting to pounce.

   “I froze,” Joan repeats. “Over and over, and it’s never really over, Jane.” Jane wants to reach out and hold her, but what if she recoils from her? “You know, I’ve… I’ve seen my brother alive again, and Edward gone, and you happy, but, sometimes, you’re a distant figure I never truly get to know. And I’ve froze and I’ve froze and I’ve froze.” She’s almost sobbing now.

   “I don’t know if I’ve made it this time, if I’m home safe. I can never really remember after it ends, but it all feels so real. Too real. It’s real, Jane, it’s real-” She chokes hard and Jane has had enough. She lunges forward and pulls Joan into her arms, tucking her head under her chin and just holding her there.

   “I’m tired,” She cries into her chest, “I’m so tired, Jane.”

   “It’s okay,” Jane said into her hair. She doesn’t know if that’s true or not, but she’s finally, finally talking about it. “It’s okay, you’re safe.”

   “Am I?” Joan sobbed and Jane feels her heart shatter at that.

   “I’m here,” Jane murmured. She began to rub up and down Joan’s back, rocking her in her arms and she realizes she’s feeling the same maternal affection she thought would only be sparked by Katherine. Because of this, she dares to try something, “Mum’s here, sweetheart. Mum’s got you.”

Joan froze, but then relaxed. She hiccuped and her voice pitched when she spoke again.

   “Mama,” She whimpered and, for some reason, that felt so familiar on her tongue. She couldn’t remember her own mother, and Jane certainly couldn’t have been her biological one, but...

   “I’m right here, sweetie,” Jane told her, “I’m right here.”

Joan cries steadily for around five more minutes, several days worth of sleep deprivation and stress and misery crashing down at her with force. Eventually, her heaving breaths and sobs quiet down until she’s just hiccuping softly.

Jane shifts the girl in her arms and looks down at her. Joan is snuggled up close to her chest, out like a light after she essentially cried herself to sleep. Jane’s heart swelled a little and she gently kissed the top of her head.

However, her mind was a complete whirlwind.

Frozen?

———

      Joan awoke to a daze of warmth and dull pain. She barely got her eyes open before thunder crashes loudly and her entire body lurches in fright. Her head jerks up from the pillow and she looks around the dim room before her  eyes settle on the woman sitting on a chair beside the bed.

   “Oh, you’re awake.” Jane set aside the weaving she was working on. “That...wasn’t a long time, love. Are you still tired?”

She was. She really, really was, but she didn’t think she would get that lucky again.

Joan tried to answer, but her words came out sounding more like a wheeze that turned into coughing. Pain contorts her face as her throat is scraped raw.

   “Here-” Jane reaches her hands out and helps the girl sit up so she could get a drink from the water bottle on the nightstand. “Small sips, sweetheart. Drink slowly. You don’t want to upset your stomach.”

The tone of voice she was using made butterflies flutter in Joan’s stomach.

   “You really worried me, you know?” Jane spoke again.

Joan nodded a little. She was still for a moment before laying her head on Jane’s leg, as she was close enough. The queen’s hands hover for a moment before stroking through Joan’s messy blonde hair, soothing her further.

Suddenly, other people are in the room and Joan tensed up and Jane is loudly shushing them. Joan pries her heavy eyelids back open to see the other queens peeking in. They smile at her and she tries to smile back, but it’s thin and lopsided. Jane notices and frowns.

   “Are you okay?” She asked softly, smoothing back a rather stubborn strand of blonde hair that wouldn’t stay down on the girl’s head. Joan just shrugs shyly. “You can tell me, honey.”

   “Just a little nauseous,” Joan mumbled.

   “That’s probably from staying up for days at a time,” Parr rattled off from the doorway, “Trust me, I know. Sleep deprivation tends to make you feel a little sick because your immune system weakens and-”

   “Who needs the sheep when you can just have Cathy bore Joan to sleep?” Anne tittered in a good-natured way.

   “Sheep?” Joan questioned, looking very confused. She couldn’t tell if she had heard that right, but then she saw the smirk on Jane’s lips and got a little nervous. “M-my Lady?”

   “Get the sheep.”

Katherine ran out of the room. Joan still has no idea what they mean (to be honest, she thinks it’s some kind of torture method as punishment for crying on Jane and calling her “mama” like she was child, like she was Katherine) until a stuffed sheep is suddenly hurled at her face.

   “I got it from a shop in town,” Jane explained, “It reminded me of what I used to call you, so I bought it. Now seemed like the best time to finally give it to you.”

   “Ah.” Joan nodded and nuzzles her face against the wool of the stupid thing when nobody is looking because it means so much more than a piece of fabric with some stuffing inside.

She sinks back against Jane when the other queens eventually leave them be, eyes half lidded and breath slowing. There’s a lump in her throat but it isn’t caused by her past panic attack. She quickly tries to swallow it.

The silence lasts a few more minutes before Jane starts to hum softly, her fingers finding Joan’s hair again, an suddenly the girl feels like she might cry all over again because she can’t remember someone ever caring for her like this. Loving her the way this queen does right now.

Tears drip from her closed eyes and splatter onto Jane’s legs, but it goes unnoticed for a while and Joan holds it tight, bites down on her lip and squeezes her eyes tighter. But the tears accumulate on Jane’s pant leg and the hand rubbing up and down her side stops moving.

   “Joan?” The queen whispers, leaning over in an attempt to see Joan’s face. “Little Lamb, are you okay?”

A whimper bubbles forth at the use of the nickname and Jane’s muscles tighten in worry at it.

   “What’s wrong?”

   “No,” Joan murmured. She sits up and the tears running down her cheeks glisten in the light from the lamp. “No, nothing’s wrong. It’s right. It’s all just so right.”

Jane almost looks stunned and it makes Joan laugh weakly. She’s trying to wipe away the tears but they just keep coming.

   “I just- Thank you for taking care of me today. I’ve never… I can’t remember having something like that and- it was nice. It was really, really nice.” She said, her voice cracking and pitching at the end and the emotions overflow.

Joan wasn’t sure it was possible to crack even further, but it was the sheep plush she was clutching, the tight hug from Jane, the soft kiss pressed to her temple, the “always” whispered in her ear...

Everything about it was perfect, and she didn’t even care about the tears anymore. She just clung to the queen, knowing she was protected in her arms, knowing she was loved.

Maybe, she thought, rest would come today after all.