#he tends to drop the bluster as soon as he's reassured he's not going to be judged for his feelings

[clonecumber]

YEAH, WHATEVER, NINER

[starman-john-tracy]

Radiation Poisoning | Chapter Eleven

by @starman-john-tracy and @asteria-star

In which John Tracy gets exposed to uranium and nearly dies, The Hood is evil, and Star generally freaks out a lot.  

Chapters: [One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [Seven] [Eight] [Nine] [Ten] [Twelve]

Once it becomes very clear that John is asleep - and not about to wake up and catch them talking about him - Star slumps. One hand grips the edge of the bed until her knuckles are bleached white and the other snaps up to clamp over her mouth, cutting off a ragged, slightly hysterical laugh.

“Ooh my god, I think I’m going to be sick… I can’t believe that worked, oh thank god.” When she pulls her hand away, still grey faced, she’s grinning at Virgil. “I didn’t think I was going to be a match.” 

“Me neither.” Virgil huffs, deeply worn down by all the anxiety he’s been through recently, “Geez…”

“Well, that’s one good thing at least,” Star says. Virgil opens his mouth to remind her it's a choice, that she doesn’t have to do this, but Star’s already shaking her head. “Don’t start: of course I’m going to do it. There’s no way I wouldn't.”

Virgil just flashes her a tired, grateful smile, the words for just how incredibly grateful he is escaping him for the moment.

Star unclips the monitor from her finger, tosses it to the side, and eases back until she’s lying down on the bed with her head in her hands. She already knows the next words out of her mouth are about to start an argument, and they haven’t even told the other brothers yet.

“I feel fine, Virgil, so when can we get started?” 

She peeks through her fingers, and to say Virgil doesn’t look convinced is an understatement. 

“As soon as your blood work starts coming back clean.” He narrows his eyes at her, she might be able to bluster and bluff her way through how she feels, but the statistics don’t lie. “And that’s not just for your benefit, John needs the healthiest stem cells he can get, to reduce the risk of them being rejected.”

He pushes his hands hard against his knees, bones crunching back into alignment as he gets to his feet and stretches his arms above his head with a groan. Star knows it’s the truth, but she can’t help but feel like she’s being played, and that it was a low blow anyway. 

“I need you to eat your vegetables, take your tablets and get a lot of good quality sleep.” 

“Jesus,” She groans, pulling a face at Virgil. “Now I know how annoying I must sound to John.” 

Virgil just pats a hand the size of a dinner plate down on her shoulder. 

“I know it’s frustrating to wait, but in the long term, this is the best thing for him. Gordon’ll be down for his shift soon.” He adds, his eyes flicking over to John to check he’s still sleeping soundly. “Are you alright to keep an eye on John while I go up and update the boys with his treatment plan. They all need to be aware of what’s going on, so we can keep the Island as clean as possible.”

It doesn’t escape Star’s notice that Virgil wants to tell the other brothers their developments without her there, but she can’t quite bring herself to care mind. He doesn’t mean to intentionally exclude her, he just needs someone down here on babysitting duty.

Even with the tiny chance of a match, they should have tested her first, gone down by age or something, at least then Gordon and Alan would have been spared; even if that wouldn’t have kept Virgil off the table, and even though Gordon would have complained endlessly about the handful of days separating their birthdays. Sure, she might not have been the one to take off John’s helmet, and John looks set to spend an hour lecturing her if she mentions what happened on the station being her fault again, but she can’t help but think about how it is her job to keep John safe. That was what her freedom was spared for, and he’s her best friend, and they keep ending up in these messes.

“Yeah, I can watch him. Not like he’s going to be causing any problems,” Her eyes dart to John’s sleeping face. “Touch wood. And can you ask Fish Sticks to bring me a snack when he comes?” 

“Yeah, will do, anything in particular you fancy?” Virgil looks, somehow, even more tired than John. It’s starting to worry her, even though Virgil is usually one of the Tracy’s most likely to take care of themselves instead of working themselves until they drop- looking at you, John. 

“Come here,” she gestures at him until he complies with a sigh, grabbing his shirt once he’s within arms reach. No matter how compliant and relaxed Virgil tends to be, Star is pretty sure she’s about to get a resounding no. “Can you please take a nap? Or something? I’m worried about you, Virg, I think you need to take a break.”

“Hmm.” It’s hardly an agreement as he folds his arms around her shoulders and pulls her in close for a good, firm hug. “I’ve got a lot of work to do.” He lets what he thinks is a good point hang heavy in the air between them, “John’s health is just so delicate right now, and the family needs updating and…”

Star sighs, thoroughly frustrated by the damned Tracy stubbornness, as if unaware she herself possesses a similar trait. She lets Virgil have his hug without complaint, even if it isn’t entirely what she meant. Her arms come up to wrap around his middle and giving him a squeeze, careful of the still sore biopsy site. 

“Let Brains do something, or delegate. I’m sure even Alan can manage to disinfect the house, even though his room is a biohazard.” She rubs a hand between his shoulder blades. “Hell, set me to work. It’s what I’m here for. Just stop doing this all yourself, like this is all your responsibility, or I will make you take a break.” 

He sighs again, hot and heavy, into the top of her head, where he’s rested his mouth against her crown.

“...I’ll get something to eat and catch a few hours, but the hard time I’m having is nothing compared to what he’s facing,” He tilts his head a John, still sound asleep, “I can’t let him down.”

“Yeah, and he’s got all of us looking out for him,” Star murmurs in response, all traces of the underlying danger in tone usually, in place for anyone but John, gone from her voice. “This is me looking out for you too.”

She pulls back a little so she can see him, unsure how he’s going to respond. Virgil is so very different from John, and Star spends so much time with John alone, she’s nervous she’s going to overstep boundaries she’s forgotten are there. 

But Virgil just smiles warmly at her, the expression soft and fond.

"Now you really sound like part of the family." He points out, a little teasing but mostly incredibly sincere, as if he's really, truly pleased to fit her into the mad, chaotic family dynamic they've got going on down here on Tracy Island. Of course, he could just be grateful that she's offering her blood to save his brother's life but… there's a look in the young man's eyes that makes it very clear that it's more than that. "Thanks, Star." He reaches a hand out to give her shoulder another warm squeeze - the man is far more tactile than his sleeping brother, and it's a nice change to not have to chase him for it. "Just you look after him, like you always do." His fingers chuck her under her chin, as if she really is his little sister, "I'll be alright for a couple more hours on my feet, then I'll head to bed, alright?"

“Yeah, yeah,” Star grumbles, only half joking and shoving him away by his arm, a light grin on her face. “Off you go there, rip off the band aid, take the bull by its horns, all of that. Call me if you need backup, I may be able to call in some favours if you need to hide from the law.” 

Virgil is smiling at her, a fond tug on the corners of his lips that must run in the family, because Star is ever so in love with the expression on John. Virgil bids her farewell, still limping and tired but happier than he had been with four negative tests, and Star is alone with John. 

She sighs, rolling to her side on what she is sure is about to become her bed, to gaze across the room at the sleeping astronaut. 

There’s something we can do for him, she tells herself, when her eyes snag on IVs and monitors and bruises littering his skin. We’re not done for yet.

Very little happens until the next morning. The grim but hopeful news gets delivered with no problems and a little circle of avidly listening Tracy’s. There’s a lot of questions but Virgil is nothing if not diligent in his explanations, and he seems happy to try and reassure them all as much as is possible, in the situation. John sleeps peacefully through the night, fighting the radiation poisoning in his cells with good old-fashioned R&R. Scott finds Virgil passed out where he’d collapsed on the sofa, just as sound asleep as his brother downstairs, and had found a pillow and a blanket to fling over him, quietly thankful that Virgil isn’t as tall as he or John are, as if either of them had tried the same thing, they’d have a crick in their back for days. Gordon pops in to take over the shift from Star, bringing her a couple of roughly made ham sandwiches (he must have put them together himself), a packet of crisps and a warm, slightly flat lemonade - just in case her stomach needs settling after. 

The morning dawns altogether too bright and cheerful, the sun like a big, fat tangerine lazing on the horizon, and it brings Scott down to the beach for his daily jog, only to find Alan sat out by the tide - staring miserably into the sea and chucking in small pebbles, letting them to be nibbled up by the lapping waves. Ever the perceptive big brother, he takes the kid to see John, and so his and Star’s morning starts with a slightly rude awakening as John gets a warm ball of Alan Tracy bundled up against his side.

“Come on Allie, don’t wake him!” Scott hisses, but it’s altogether too late for that, and John strokes his fingers sleepily through his little brother’s hair. All in all, it’s not the worst way he’s ever woken up.

“Jesus Christ,” Star grumbles before her eyes are even open, woken by the sound hissed ‘whispers’ that are too loud for that time of morning. She’s ditched the sweater at some point, leaving her in a tank top and sweatpants, and one bare arm snakes out from beneath the sheets to scrub at her face. Bleary blue eyes peer out from her bird's nest of lank hair, landing on the gaggle of Tracy’s across the room. “Oh my god.”

John is smiling sleepily at his brothers, then at Star, looking none the worse for wear for his rude awakening, especially compared to yesterday. Star is more than happy to keep up slightly grumpy appearances on his behalf. She manages to push herself into a crumpled sitting position in the centre of her bed, frowning sleepily at the clock, and then them. Her skin crawls, like she’s intruding, which might have something to do with the frosty not-look Scott gives her.

John gives her a breathless chuckle.

“Good morning.” 

Star scowls, not heat behind it for him.

“This isn’t morning, this is the ars-“

“Language,” Scott scolds, looking meaningfully at Alan. “Please.” 

Star raises an eyebrow. Alan finds it hilarious.

“You good there, Johnny?” Star asks, clambering out of the bed and stumbling over to where he’s nodding sleepily. She runs a hand through his hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead and murmurs, “I’m going to take a shower before Virgil considers me a biohazard, and probably steal some coffee. You alright here with Alan?” 

He nods again. 

“Alright. I’ll be back.” 

Star tries not to be too obvious about the stiffening of her shoulders when she hears Scott move to follow her out of the room, or the way she tracks his movement. 

“I… uh… owe you an apology.” Well that’s not exactly what she’d been expecting to follow her up the corridor. Scott Tracy is loitering, stiff and awkward and thoroughly unused to apologising, a little way behind her - as if he thinks she might lash out at him and he wants to be well out of range. “For my behaviour, uh, you know, earlier.” It’s very vague, as if to prevent him from having to come out and explain, like a toddler, what the bad thing he did was and why it was bad. “Virgil explained what happened better and, um, what’s happening now,” Now that she’s the key to saving their brother’s life. “So, uhhh, I’m sorry. I guess….” His nose is all scrunched up, like that was hard. “Um, you know, I’ve been on a lot of rescues,” Scott doesn’t exactly laugh, but it’s clear he’s trying to make the conversation lighter. “Gotta admit, the two of you have been up there with some of the most… scared, when it comes to each other.” 

Star nods slowly, chewing on her lip.

“I mean, he’s… I’d do anything for him. I quite literally love him more than life itself.” Scott looks distinctly uncomfortable about that declaration, “But it’s also… different. Up there, I mean. If an alarm goes off down here or someone is hurt, you’re more likely to find them than not, and you can get them help. Up there, an alarm goes off and you don’t find whoever you’re with quickly, there’s a good chance you’ll never see them again. Hell, if there’s a hull breach or a leak or some kind of glitch… there's just never a lot of time, or help. It’s just us, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, not that we really have days either.”

“I… yeah.” Scott seems to be struggling with all-the-ways-his-brothers-could-die-in-space, but to his credit, he shakes it off pretty quick. “Sorry, I should let you go, I just… wanted to make sure you were ok.” And that might be the most honest thing he’s said to her since touchdown. The Ex-airforce pilot might have a terrible quick temper and a fierce overprotectiveness when it comes to his siblings, but he can see when he’s wrong about someone and maybe Carmen Daines isn’t all as bad as her paperwork had made her seem. Not that he’s been snooping on her GDF file because he… yeah ok he definitely has. But it was for John’s benefit really, so he doesn’t feel all too bad about that.

He’s read some pretty… grim things in that should-have-been-confidential file.

But the girl in the too-big jumper with wild brown hair and knobbly knees in front of him has just offered up her own bone marrow to save his brother’s life.

So she can’t be all bad.

“Uh, I should leave you to your shower, Carmen.” He waves a hand around airily, a lopsided half-smile on his face like he’s just done a great thing, and righted all the wrongs in the world with his apology, “Take care up th….”

Star is almost about to accept it, until that one, pesky little word came up. It stopped her in her tracks, a physical jolt like electricity that didn't come when it was spoken by John, and no one else knew or dared try. 

The name.

“I’m sorry,” Star smiled sweetly, words dripping venom. “Apology… almost accepted. But call me by that name again and I’ll break your nose.” 

Scott blanches white at that. She means that very literally and he’s not the kind of man to assume that just because she’s a girl doesn’t mean she hits hard. Both of his hands shoot up, defensive. 

“Ah!, Uh, sorry. Star?” He tries again, tentative, wondering if he dares ask why no one uses her real name. It seems like a nice, solid name to him at least. “Doesn’t John call you, um, that?” He points out, confused and, if he doesn’t lie to himself, a little afraid of a girl half his size. 

Star smiles slightly at him, like somewhere in the back of her mind she regrets the threat, but still wouldn’t take it back if she could. Part of her, the part that doesn’t feel entirely real, like she’s a name on a page and not a real person, wants to tell him everything for the sake of being known. It would bring the total number up to four, if you counted Colonel Casey, which seemed ridiculously low considering the infamy that had followed her around in the life before this one. 

“John’s allowed to, because he knows better than to call me that around other people… at least I thought he was, but he can be forgiven for the odd slip.” She eyes Scott off, eyes raking up and down from where she stood on the staircase, a handful of steps above him. “There’s a reason I don’t use it. That name belongs to someone you would be killed for knowing, and not by me. There are very dangerous people in the world who are hoping I am dead, but still sleep with one eye open just in case I’m not. Because-” There’s a thickness to her voice that surprises Star herself, and she has to look away from Scott’s wide-eyed staring. “-they ruined- they ruined the life that I had, and they know I could do the same to them. So it’s safer for everyone involved if we all just pretend the owner of that name doesn’t exist.” 

Star isn’t sure what Scott had been expecting, but she’s pretty sure it wasn't that. His face alone says that when she turns back to him, and she has to snort. His eyebrows have practically disappeared up into his receding hairline.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt anyone,” she slouches against the banister, looking down at the man. “But I am going to ask why you know that name. Because I know why Virgil knows it, and I know why John knows it, but I don’t know why you do.”

“Uh.” Says Scott again, very eloquently, as if suddenly realising he’s probably in big trouble. “It got, um, mentioned once.” He rolls his shoulders through a shrug, lying through his teeth because god forbid she finds out he’d been snooping where he shouldn't. Evidently though, he missed a lot back then. “Might have been John… in his sleep?” He offers, sounding like he can’t quite remember, when really, he’s making it up as he goes along. The idea that John might have been calling out for her in his sleep, while she was snoozing, is a heart wrenching one. Especially as it’s a downright lie.

Scott Tracy has bluffed some of the best councils in the world, for IR and for Tracy Enterprises. His power to lie is one he wield much, much lighter than his brothers ever would.

Must be a corporate thing.

“Speaking of John, I should probably get back and see what Alan’s up to…” He waves his hands around dramatically, excusing himself, “Enjoy your, um, shower?”

There is no good scenario Star can conjure up in her mind as to why John would be mentioning the name Carmen in his sleep, and the idea is tangled up with the speed with which Scott threw his hands up. She can’t stop thinking about it, not digging through John’s clothes for a clean sweater to wear with her own pants, not in the shower, not when she’s braiding her damp hair back again in the hopes of keeping the mess it was this morning from happening again. 

To her, and anyone else who knows, she supposes, the name Carmen is something violent and wild and so terrifying she hates it. But John uses that name like its synonymous with Star, like it’s something soft and precious to him to have the privilege, so does that mean-

Virgil is slouched at the breakfast bar when Star wanders past the kitchen, falling asleep over his mug of coffee. She considers him for a moment, picking a loose thread on her sleeve, before deciding to just bite the damn bullet.

“Hey, Virgil?” She asks softly, but he jumps at her arrival anyway. “Can I ask you something?” 

He grunts something that might have been a yes. 

“Do I scare people? Do I scare you and… John?”

Virgil moves his face from where it’s smushed against the hand propping it up, and raises an eyebrow, running his fingers backwards through sleep-mussed hair.

“No?” He sounds tentative about that, like he’s worried he might not be awake enough right now to say the right thing. A fist scrubs sleep from his eyes, “Where have you got that idea from?”

He gives her an appraising look, up and down, taking in the baggy sweater (emblazoned with a NASA logo in a way that strongly hints it’s been stolen) and her pale face and damp hair. 

“Are you alright?” The eyebrows crinkle, and he pats a big hand down on the bar stool beside him. “Hop up, I’ll make you a coffee.” She looks like she needs one, “Or, uh, a tea?” He seems suddenly uncertain, “What would you prefer?” 

Star raises an eyebrow at the offer, and the fact he’s told her no earlier. “Am I allowed coffee?”

She hauls herself up onto the offered seat, watching Virgil blink tiredly on his way around the kitchen. 

“John’s not, and it’d be best if you keep off the caffeine the day or so before the transfusion, but your heart rate was looking good last test, so there’s no reason that today you can't have something, if you want. No offense, but you look like you could do with it. There’s fruit tea or a milkshake if you’d rather though.”

He potters around the kitchenette, collecting mugs and filling Grandma’s old electric kettle. The coffee he’d made for himself had long gone cold during his snooze and it gets dumped unceremoniously down the sink so he can replace it with a fresh, hot cup.

“Now, what’s got you all worried about how scary you are?” He asks, distracted, but listening all the same. John’s not the only Tracy who's a great multitasker.

“I think I scare Scott,” she tells him in a way of explanation. “He was apologising and it was almost going well for him, and I really didn’t mean to tell him I’d break his nose but-“

She takes a breath, mostly in awe of the complete and utter dazed confusion on the brunette's face. 

“Scott knows my real name. Did you tell him it?” She doesn’t sound angry, just… wondering.

“No?” Virgil’s eyebrows go through a violent wiggle of emotion, leaving them high on his forehead. “I make a point of calling you Star, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable… or to threaten to break my nose.” She gets a look with that comment, “But I even document your medical records under your pseudonym, it’s just what we all know you as, so I don’t think Scott would have picked it up from me.... I can’t imagine John would have told him either though,” Virgil frowns, “unless he overheard you guys.”

“John doesn’t use it often enough…” Star muses, counting back all the times she’d heard him say it, most of which occurred on Thunderbird Five, and rest when they were alone. Virgil slides the hot mug across the table, and Star wraps her cool fingers around the warmth. “I suppose it doesn’t matter, was just curious.”

She sits in silence for a moment, gazing into the dark brew like it might be convinced to give up all of life’s secrets. Eventually she gives up, in favour of peering up at Virgil.

“Still strikes me as odd.” He comments, considering.

Star chews on her lip. With Virgil’s confirmation of confidentiality, she knows how Scott knows her name, and she’s not sure how bothered to be by it, or what else he saw.

 “So how are things looking? Does a normal heart rate mean we can… get started?” 

Virgil continues frowning, but it drops away as he’s distracted by her eagerness to get stabbed with big needles. He laughs, all teeth.

“Not quite yet.” He reaches out and pinches her skinny arm, making a point that she needs to get some nutrients in her first, “I got some more tests that still need to come back clean, there’s more than your heart I’m worried about.” He looks ever so apologetic. 

“And anyway, John got to start on the chemo conditioning first.” Virgil runs his fingers through his hair again - she’s starting to notice he does that a lot when he’s stressed. “I’m reluctant to begin when he’s already so ill, but it’s the sooner the better, in the long term. We’ll probably give him the first transfusion later today. I want to get him back to his own room first though, so he’s more comfortable. It’s a horrible process and it’s going to be a really stressful time, so the less he has to see that medical room the better, I think...” He takes a long swig of hot coffee, eyelashes fluttering as the caffeine hits his system.

“Grandma’s up there deep cleaning his room for us.” He smiles wearily at Star. “Once she’s done, do you want to help me get John up there?” Virgil wants to preserve his brother’s independence while he can, and won’t force him to use a wheelchair while he can still walk, but John’s balance has always been a tricky thing, so an extra pair of hands on his side would definitely help.

Star nods absently, staring in the deep dark depths of her coffee like it holds the answers to all of life’s questions. It won’t be the first time she’s hauled John around, whether from lack or sleep or food or injury; but being arguably good at it doesn’t mean she likes it any better. The image of sick John in his room makes her chest give a savage squeeze of anxiety. That’s not where he’s supposed to be, maybe when he’s had a little too much gravity or a handful of stitches, but not when he’s dying.

But she knows John would prefer it, and whatever makes him happy wins.

She takes a long drag of her coffee, and tells Virgil, “yeah, of course I do.” 

She pushes the half empty mug of coffee across the table and stands, only wobbly the tiniest amount. “I take it there’s going to be a lot to bring with him, and I think they’re having a party down there, so we should probably-“ she makes an awkward gesture in the direction of the stairs, as if looking for permission, “-go?”

Virgil laughs at her keenness; it warms the cold, tired parts of him that, though he’d never admit it to anyone, just want to give up and go to bed. He downs the rest of his coffee in one, enjoying the burn. There’s a heavy, satisfied sigh as he slams the big mug back down on the tabletop. 

“Alright, you win.” He smiles, flicking open his Comm. “Grandma?” They both watch the little holographic representation of the woman startle as John’s bedside holocomm flashes on, “Are you ready for us up there?” She’s got big yellow rubber gloves on and a pinafore over her purple jumpsuit, the wispy grey strands of her hair all twisted up in pin curls.

“Virgil!” Her voice is full of scolding, but it softens when the idea of John being brought up comes into the mix. “Yes dear, everything is dusted and disinfected.” She sounds very proud of the accomplishment. She’s had to put a lot of his things into storage boxes though, just to keep the amount of objects that could be holding germs to the minimum, and she feels a sort of weary melancholy about it. It makes it feel almost like he’s already gone, and she’s having to pack up his things. Ruth shakes her head, forcing those thoughts out. “John won’t even recognise how clean it is up here!” It’s a joke, but her voice wobbles at the end in a way that makes Virgil’s heart clench.

“I’m sure he will, Grandma.” He says, very soft, but he knows that with the amount of time John spends in space, his bedroom is probably as unfamiliar to him as the med room is anyway. Maybe he won’t even notice the changes she’s made. “Thanks for this. Give us ten minutes and we’ll be up there with Johnny boy.”

There’s a warm FAB on the other end, and her mop-armed figure flickers out. Virgil slings an arm around Star’s shoulders.

“You need anything to eat before we go down?”

The answer should probably be yes, but Star shakes her head anyway, loose strands of her fringe brushing up against Virgil’s chest from where she’s pinned beneath his arm. Her stomach is tying itself in knots at everything, and she honestly doesn’t think she’d keep anything down if she had to eat and then move John… which is unlikely to be an entirely pleasant experience. She feels very small standing next to him, in a way she doesn’t next to John, even though he’s almost a good head taller than his younger brother. Leading the way to the stairs means Virgil can’t protest, so that's what she does, taking them back the way she had only just come from, following the sound of voices. 

Both Scott and Alan are still there, and miraculously John is still awake, smiling lazily around the room and whatever Alan was chewing his ear off about. When he sees her, she smiles back. 

“I’m here to perform a prison break,” she tells him, “how about it?” 

[themisadventuresofmomtiri]

Here we go, Part 2 of the Tangled Sibling AU! I actually cut this in half because it was proving to be way longer than anticipated, but the good news is I should be able to get the next part up yet this week! Enjoy~!

It took a second for the words to sink in before Rowena and Quirin bolted for the wagon door. Kiera jumped off the steps, making way for them to enter. The thee sisters shared a look before running in after their parents.

Literally nothing had changed about the interior of the wagon since Rapunzel had left it merely an hour ago, but somehow the air felt more oppressive, thick with a tension that was ready to snap at any moment. Ruddiger chittered, wringing his little hands nervously as Rowena and Quirin reached their son’s side.

“He’s burning up,” she said, worry thick in her voice.

“Rapunzel, can’t you heal him,” Catalina asked, voice barely above a whisper.

If it were Dad or Kiera, Rapunzel wouldn’t hesitate. She’d managed to successfully heal them from colds and other ills in the past. Kiera always came down with a cold at least once a winter, and Catalina usually got sick for a week or two come spring and fall if she spent time outside--- for some reason, Rapunzel’s healing magic was only ever a short-term fix for Catalina. Mom’s working theory was that it was the pollen in the air making her miserable, and it wasn’t like Rapunzel could cleanse the air of the little irritants, so Catalina had taken to spending most of the fall and spring in the wagon until Mom could get a hold of the ingredients needed to make the only medicine that seemed to offer her any relief. Dad would get sick sometimes, though it was rare and tended to come after Kiera recovered from her cold if it came at all. Mom never got sick, but that was probably because she wasn’t human so mortal ills likely didn’t affect her.

Varian and Rapunzel, however, had never caught so much as a sniffle in their lives.

And unlike Kiera and Catalina, Varian had a lot of magic. Rapunzel had been able to handle cuts and scraps in the past, but it took a lot of effort and Varian needed to be able to help her out.

Instead of answering, Rapunzel swallowed hard and stepped forward. She undid her barrettes, letting her golden hair fall loose around her shoulders. 

“Mom? Dad? Do you think maybe I could…” she trailed off, holding up a thick lock of her hair as a visual cue.

“Rapunzel, I don’t know if---”

“Row, we have to let her try,” Quirin cut in, somehow managing to keep his voice level.

“What if she gets sick, too,” Rowena worried. If there was an illness that could take Varian down, it wasn’t too much of a leap to think it might get Rapunzel, too.

“We have to try.”

Rowena bit her lip, but nodded, moving a bit to give Rapunzel room to join them.

Varian looked terrible. He was paler than usual, almost ashy, and it looked like he was soaked in sweat. Rapunzel radiated heat like the sun---a comparison Kiera had made once and refused to let go of the second she realized the pun---and sure, six people sleeping in the same area meant for a lot of body heat (a godsend come the winter), but the nights were still fairly cold this time of year. There was no reason for Varian to be sweating so much. And his breathing…it was shallow and fast. He’d been perfectly fine last night.

She carefully placed her hair around him, deciding not to wrap it around him because the idea of jostling him and accidentally doing more harm than good terrified her. With any luck, this would do the trick and Varian would be back to normal. Rapunzel took a deep breath and started singing.

“Flower, gleam and glow; let your power shine.”

The faint tingle that was constantly humming under her skin grew stronger, concentrating in her scalp as it poured into her hair, the strands lighting up with the sun’s magic.

“Make the clock reverse; bring back what once was---”

Rapunzel always sang with her eyes closed; when they were little, Varian had noticed and asked her why. When he’d convinced her to sing without closing her eyes, they discovered that her hair wasn’t the only thing that glowed. Which explained why her eyes always burned a little anytime she used her magic. But since her eyes were closed, Rapunzel wasn’t able to notice certain things.

She wasn’t able to notice Varian’s hair suddenly glowing the strongest it ever had outside of him using his magic during a full super moon. And, since it happened so fast, neither Quirin nor Rowena were able to warn her in time. The resulting surge of power sent her flying back wards, snapping her out of the healing trance. The glow disappeared as soon as Rapunzel stopped singing, which was probably for the best.

“Rapunzel!”

She held her head, wincing as she recovered from the shock. Dad’s callous-rough hand gripped her arm and slipped behind her back to help her regain her footing.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she assured. “Is Varian---” Rapunzel caught sight of her brother and sucked in a breath.

He was still glowing, but it was violent, wildly inconsistent, and he looked as if it were causing him pain. Mom pulled him up to her shoulder, holding him tight and muttering under her breath. The longer she murmured, the more the glowing began to slow and smooth out, until finally it was a dull pulsing sort.

“I’m sorry---”

“Rapunzel, you have nothing to be sorry about,” Rowena replied. “Quirin, get Rapunzel and Catalina outside now. Kiera, come and help me with your brother.”

“Mom, what’s wrong with Varian,” Catalina asked, putting up a token fight as Quirin ushered them both towards the door.

“Just stay with your father,” Rowena ordered.

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

Kiera stumbled out of the wagon nearly an hour later, trembling from a combination of shock and the effort it took to not completely fall to pieces.

“Mom said she needs you,” she said, voice wavering a little.

“Go sit and get something to eat,” Quirin told her, giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Kiera just nodded, moving forward to join her sisters at the fire pit.

“How is he,” Rapunzel asked.

“He’s…not good. Mom doesn’t think it’s catchy, but…I know there’s more to it than that and she just didn’t tell me.”

Kiera dropped onto the ground, propped up against the log they’d commandeered for a bench when they first set up camp and next to where Catalina was seated. The redhead gently patted her sister’s head, setting up a soft stroking motion that had been known to soothe Kiera when she got agitated.

“I don’t get it,” she continued, curling up into Catalina’s touch. “He was just fine yesterday!”

“Maybe he wasn’t,” Catalina pointed out. “After all, the full moon was only a couple of days ago. If something was wrong, it probably wouldn’t have shown up until that extra energy started to go away. Remember two years ago after the winter solstice? Varian had to stay in bed for a whole week because he got that concussion and didn’t notice until after the full moon wore off.”

“Yeah, but he still woke up,” Kiera retorted. “I couldn’t even get him to twitch.”

There was a vulnerability in her voice that Kiera rarely ever let show. She’d always been the sort of person who liked to put up a strong and independent front, unfazed by anything and ready for everything. But underneath all the bluff and bluster, she was still just a kid. Her nineth birthday was still months away. And she’d already lost her family once; no doubt the idea of Varian being so sick terrified the heck out of her.

“Varian is going to be just fine,” Rapunzel assured her, joining her on the grass and putting an arm around her. “You’ll see. He’ll beat this bug and be right back to his old self in no time.”

“What if he doesn’t get better before the new moon gets here,” Kiera murmured. “New moons have been making him weaker lately. He acts like they don’t, but I’m not stupid.”

Rapunzel winced. The constant shifts in his energy levels had been hitting him harder than they used to, but Mom had said that was likely just a side-effect of Varian entering puberty and that it should stabilize as he got older. Not that the assurance made it any less worrying at this point. Before she could think of any platitudes to offer, the sound of the wagon creaking caught their attention, and the girls turned to see their parents stepping out into the daylight.

“Is he okay,” Rapunzel asked, immediately standing back up.

“For the moment, he’s about as okay as can be expected,” Rowena replied, sounding absolutely exhausted. “We’ll have to keep an eye on his condition, but things seem to have calmed for a bit.”

“Do you know what’s wrong?”

“Whatever he’s managed to catch, it’s interacting with the Moon’s power.” Rowena took a seat on the log, undoing her bun in order to tidy it back up. “Whether it’s for better or worse, I can’t say just yet. That being said, considering the reaction we witnessed, Rapunzel, I want you to keep your distance until I can figure out exactly what’s going on. Hopefully, this is just an aggressive illness that’s as short-lived as a cold.”

“And if it’s not,” Catalina asked, voice small and quiet.

Rowena took a deep breath. “If it’s not…well, we may have to bind his magic.”