The Longest Nap Ever

A cart squealed somewhere in the hall. Sunlight poured in making pale rectangles on the floor. The sheets smelled of detergent and dryer sheets, and something cool tugged at his hand where a needle fed into his veins.

“I think he just twitched.” someone whispered.

“No he didn’t,” someone else whispered back. “That was the tube falling down.”

“Pretty sure it was his soul returning from the afterlife,” a third voice offered, unusually solemn. “I would know, I've seen that before.”

"What the hell are you even talking about?" The first voice retorted.

Joren cracked an eye.

The ceiling was smooth and white. The second thing he saw was Willow’s braided hair dangling into his field of view as she leaned over him. Both of her arms were wrapped from wrist to shoulder in clean bandages, tidy and bright against her borrowed black shirt.

“Hey,” she said, voice low, like she might spook him into unconsciousness again. “Good afternoon princess. How did you sleep?"

On the other side of the bed, Gus sat on a stool that looked absurdly small under him, forearms speckled in yellowed bruises. He had a spoon and a cup of something green, and the skeptical expression of a man not convinced it could be trusted to help. “Huh. You weren't kidding, he did move."

A shape stood on top of the visitor’s chair. Bartholomew blinked, his coat touching the bottom of the seat, looking the least injured out of all of them. “Ah, the resurrection is complete. Excellent timing, I was about to ask the nurse for your belongings if you didn't ever wake up."

Joren groaned, trying to push himself upright, but the world tilted instantly. His right hand screamed at him, forcing him to remember why he was even here in the first place. The sound he made was pitiful enough that multiple hands pressed him back against the mattress at once.

“Don’t be stupid,” Willow scolded. "You need to take it easy."

Joren lay still, panting, until the stabbing in his hand dulled to a throb. “Feels like I took the longest nap ever."

"Well... you kind of did. It's been three days already." Gus responded.

That made Joren raise his eyes in astonishment.

“Three… days?” Joren rasped. His voice cracked from disuse, and he coughed to clear it. “You’re joking.”

Willow shook her head. “Nope. We had bets going on for whether you’d wake up today or tomorrow.”

“Today,” Bart chimed in proudly, raising his hand like he’d won something. “And I was right.”

“You bet on me being unconscious?” Joren croaked.

"Helps pass the time." Gus chimed in.

Joren blinked at them, unsure whether to laugh or groan. “You guys are terrible.”

“We were bored,” Willow defended, nudging the stool Gus sat on so it squeaked against the floor. “You try sitting around for three days with nothing to do but listen to Bart recount every cheese he’s ever tasted. I had to tune it out after the first ten minutes.”

“You weren't listening?” Bart protested, one hand clutching his chest. “If you’d paid attention, you’d know the subtle difference between a smoked gouda and a aged gouda."

Despite the ache in his body, Joren let out a weak chuckle that turned into another cough. “Guess I missed a lot.”

“Not really,” Gus said, leaning back on the too-small stool until it creaked in protest. “Unless you count Bart trying to bribe the nurse with a wedge of cheddar he smuggled in somehow.”

Bart lifted his chin, unashamed. “And it would’ve worked, too, if she wasn't lactose intolerant. A cruel twist of fate.”

Willow rolled her eyes. “I bet if you just asked nicely, she would have given you new sheets without question."

Bart gasped, scandalized. “Asked? Nicely? Willow, please, that’s not how negotiations work. You have to establish dominance in the exchange."

Joren let out a weak laugh, wincing as his chest twinged. “I’m honestly impressed you didn’t get thrown out.”

“Thrown out?” Bart said, puffing up like he’d been insulted. “I was practically running the place! Patients from two rooms over came to listen to my lectures.”

"Interesting.” Joren added, “So how are you guys healing up? Was it as bad as me?"

Willow lifted one arm, flexing it carefully. The bandages crinkled, but she managed a half-smile. “Couple stitches and enough drugs to coast the first two days without a hitch. The cuts were pretty clean, so nothing too bad."

Gus shrugged, rolling his shoulders like they were still sore. “Check this out." He said, standing up. He lifted his shirt to show a repulsive amount of bruising. There were tons of black, touches of purple, and spots of yellow.

Joren grimaced. “Ew, that looks really painful."

"It was worse when we first got here actually." Gus muttered, tugging his shirt back down and easing himself into the stool again. "It's started to heal up already, but it will be a few days before I can leave the hospital."

Bart leaned in, peering with exaggerated seriousness. “If you squint, it almost looks like a map of the kingdom. That one bruise near your side? Definitely the border mountains.”

Willow groaned. “Knock it off, Bart."

The door banged against the stopper. All three of Joren’s friends looked up like children caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

Nyra Braye stood in the doorway, clipboard in hand, uniform pristine. Her eyes darted over the mess of bandages, bruises, and Bart perched like a crow on the visitor’s chair.

“What is going on in here?” she said, her voice very motherly "They told me this room was supposed to be quiet recovery.”

Bart cleared his throat. “It was quiet until someone decided to burst in without knocking.”

“Bart...” Willow warned.

Nyra’s brow twitched, but she chose not to satisfy Bart with a reply. She strode across the room, clipboard tucked under her arm, heels clicking against the tile.

Her gaze fixed on Joren. “Welcome back. I’m glad to see you all doing so well. I had requested the best team of doctors and nurses from Covinth to fix you up. It still took them over sixteen hours to fix up your hand. They said your bones were a mess.”

Nyra went through some of the work they did, bringing to Joren’s attention that they used a lot of metal to set it.

A cart squealed again somewhere in the hall, followed by the muted chatter of nurses arguing over supplies. The smell of antiseptic hung faintly, and every so often a cough echoed from another room.

The hospital was alive in its own way, a steady backdrop of small discomforts and quiet work, so different from the chaos he remembered. A crest on the outside of the door made it clear they were somewhere new.

“Sorry you had to endure all of that pain from Coral." Her thoughts trailed off as she became a little distraught. "You all have done an immense service to the kingdom, and I just want to let you know that I am so very thankful for all of your hard work."

Joren blinked at her, caught off guard by the sudden earnestness. For a moment the steady beeping of the monitor was the only sound.

He cleared his throat, still raspy. “You’re… thanking us? Usually you get so flustered."

Nyra straightened so quickly her clipboard almost slipped. “Don’t be like that!" She yelled, her cheeks blushing instantly. "Don’t misunderstand—this isn’t… I mean... gratitude is protocol in situations where civilians take on state-level threats.”

Bart leaned back on his perch, smug. “You hear that? State-level threats. We should have songs made in our honor."

Willow groaned. “Please don’t start.”

“Oh, but think of it!” Bart spread his arms wide. “A parade down Crownspire’s main avenue. Trumpets blaring, banners flying, me riding a wheel of cheese like a victorious general.”

Nyra pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like why me. Then, as though remembering she was supposed to be the responsible one, fixed herself with a steadier look.

“Regardless,” she said, softer now, “you all risked yourselves when you didn’t have to. The kingdom doesn’t forget things like that, so we can get you all those things we discussed with the king when you are feeling better."

The blush lingered on her cheeks, but her tone carried weight this time.

Joren shifted against the pillow, exhaustion heavy in his limbs. “Guess that makes it official. We’re troublemakers and heroes all at once.”

Images started to flow into Joren’s head, fuzzy and clipped. It was hard to remember much about what happened after those two big attacks he did. That gravity burst really did a number on him.

Joren let the smile fade, a more inquisitive tone taking over. “What happened after Coral was captured? I don’t remember much after he was handcuffed.”

She tapped her clipboard against her leg, thoughtful. “Coral is alive but stripped of his command. He’ll face hearings sooner or later. The others… well, they won’t be seeing daylight for some time. Continuity is handling the fallout.”

The group pondered on that some. “The King’s arrival swiftly dealt with the majority of the problems, and the fire was put out shortly after we left. Most people, even in the department ranks, haven’t ever experienced the King’s presence firsthand, so they were quick to do as they were asked.”

Gus exhaled slowly. “So, it’s over then?”

“For now,” Nyra admitted. Her eyes flicked to Joren. "Continuity is still sorting through the aftermath. Departments are blaming each other for the security failures and lack of attention to the growing unrest. Defense claims Coral acted alone, but others are starting to look at each other skeptically. It’s a real headache, to be honest."

“But you don’t need to worry about that!” She added quickly, hoping to alleviate their concerns. “Our departments can handle that kind of work, it's what we're here for."

Bart rubbed his chin. “So in summary: the rotten cheese has been scraped from the wheel.”

Nyra ignored him. She leaned on the bed’s railing, clipboard resting against her hip. “What matters for you is this: your job is done now, and you’ll be staying here until your bodies can recover. Rehabilitation, light training, proper nutrition. The works."

Joren managed to smile faintly despite the ache in his ribs. “Guess that means we’re temporary citizens of the capital now.”

“Exactly,” Nyra said, almost smug now. “Gives you a ton of time to explore the capital and do whatever you feel like. The shopping, the food, the activities, all of it is the best in the nation. Maybe I should bring you a brochure?”

Willow snorted. “You’re joking.”

Nyra tilted her head, perfectly serious. “I’m not. The Department of Trade funds some very comprehensive guides. They are color-coded, with maps and restaurant rankings, too."

Gus let out a chuckle, though it dissolved quickly into a pained hiss as he touched his ribs. “Ow. Don’t make me laugh yet.”

Nyra’s clipboard snapped shut with a sharp clap. “All right. I’ve done my part. Heal, rest, and when you’re strong enough, you can wander the capital to your heart’s content. Until then, let the staff do their jobs and stop testing the nurses’ patience.”

Her gaze softened just briefly as it landed on Joren. “Especially you.”

"Oh that reminds me now that you mention activities. Joren, your birthday is coming up in a few days, isn't it?" Gus asked, catching everyone else's attention.

Joren blinked at him, caught mid-breath. “Why would you bring that up now?”

Willow’s head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing with sudden mischief. “Wait, seriously?! You didn’t tell us?”

Joren groaned, tugging the blanket over his face. “I forgot about it with all the stuff we were going through."

Bart gasped, clutching his chest with dramatic flair. “A secret birthday! And here I thought we were comrades in arms. The beast of betrayal is named Joren.”

Willow leaned forward, grinning like a wolf. “Oh no, you don’t get to hide under a blanket and escape this. Nyra, you have to bring us a brochure. Also, you better join us." She said, turning her head to Nyra now in the doorway.

Nyra froze mid-step in the doorway, clearly having intended to leave without asking. “Join you?” she repeated, as though the concept were in a foreign language. "You mean it?"

Willow smirked. “You heard me. Birthday celebration is for friends and you’re invited.”

For once, Nyra looked almost cornered. She clutched her clipboard tighter, a blush creeping into her cheeks. “I— that’s not— I don’t have time for cake. Or… brochures...”

Bart leaned over the back of his chair, eyes gleaming. “Oh, but imagine the headlines: Department Head Attends Party, Bonds with National Treasures. History in the making!”

“Absolutely not!” Nyra snapped, cheeks fully red now. “This is… ridiculous.” She spun on her heel, then hesitated just long enough to add, quieter, “But… I’ll see what I can do.”

The door clicked shut again, leaving the group staring at each other in surprise.

Willow broke the silence with a grin. “She’s totally coming.”

"We better have some cheesecake." Bart added.

"I don't think we are imagining the same thing, Bart." Gus said, a perplexed look taking over.

As they laughed, the thought twisted strangely in his chest. A birthday. Another year passing him by. It felt surreal after all they’d faced: the King’s crushing presence, a giant alligator, duals and speeches, the weight of powers he barely understood. A birthday used to mean a cake at Hazel’s table back home. Now he would spend it with his friends.

Their laughter swelled again. It was ragged, uneven, pained by bruises and stitches, but laughter all the same. It filled the room, pushing back the sterile quiet of the ward.

Joren let his eyes drift shut, the pale rectangles of sunlight still glowing against the floor. He listened to the sound of carts squeaking distantly in the hall, the faint coughs from other patients, and the voices of his friends.

It had been a while since they were able to take it easy and enjoy the journey. A birthday party sounded quite nice, looking at it now.