A/N: So, chapter 18 of Race Against Time is being difficult, so I wrote this instead. If you're coming here without having read at least up to chapter 16, you'll be quite confused. This is set during and immediately after the events of that chapter, and it's from Kíli's POV. I wanted to get inside someone else's head for a while, and I wanted you guys to be able to see what Fíli can't see. I hope you like it.

This will be a little bonus for those of you who follow me as an author or check my profile until I post chapter 18 of Race Against Time. Feel free to share it with others! :D

"Kíli! Kíli, calm down, darling!"

Kíli struggled to take in a breath, but he could not stop coughing. Every cough resonated painfully in his chest, and he cried out involuntarily; Dís cradled him in her arms, rocking him gently and speaking comforting words, but here was no comfort for Kíli in this excruciating pain. But as much as his lungs burned, his heart hurt even worse, for after all of the pain that Kíli had been through in the past three weeks, nothing had hurt him as much as his brother's words. He clung to his mother and sank into her embrace. Everything hurt, and he had no strength to fight the pain any longer; his body fought without him, trying to push the mucus out of his lungs and draw in some small amount of air.

Fíli was gone. The walls had shook after Thorin had pulled him out by the collar, his eyes burning with anger, and Kíli could hear him shouting. The first thing Kíli had felt was relief as he was rescued from Fíli's wrath, but then as Fíli's words sank in, he felt a desperate need to have his brother at his side, to apologize and promise that he would never again be so selfish as to leave his other half alone in this world. The pain was immense, but he wouldn't give up. Not this time. He had seen the anguish in his brother's eyes.

The coughing fit finally subsided, and a distressed sob escaped from Kíli's lips. Now he had a new problem: the spasm had robbed him of all of his energy, and breathing seemed to be an impossible task. He wheezed, panicking.

"Mu—mum…" he choked out, frantically clawing at his mother's sleeve. She kissed his forehead and pushed the hair out of his eyes.

"Just breathe, Kíli," she said. "Just try to breathe."

Kíli tried to take in another breath, but in his panic, he simply gagged and let out a high-pitched wheeze. He heard a thump outside the door.

Just then, Thorin burst into the room in all his fury and slammed the door behind him. The fire in his eyes died immediately as he turned his gaze to his youngest nephew, changing to deep concern. He rushed to the bedside, and Dís looked up to him.

"Thorin, help him," she said anxiously. "He can't breathe."

"Put him on his back," said Thorin. He climbed onto the opposite side of the bed and knelt beside Kíli as Dís moved him, laying him down on the mattress. Kíli groped for her hand, desperately needing some form of physical contact to remind him why he needed to fight. Thorin laid one hand on Kíli's chest and held his face with the other, his coarse thumb gently moving against his forehead. Kíli closed his eyes as the touch brought him some small comfort.

"Breathe in, Kíli, as deeply as you can," Thorin said gently. "Try to make my hand rise."

Kíli breathed in, stopping suddenly as he reached his pain threshold. He cried out, digging his fingers into the mattress and squeezing Dís's hand.

"Let it out slowly," Thorin said evenly. "Don't panic – you'll only make yourself worse."

Kíli did as he was told, his breath coming out in a long, pained wheeze.

"Good," said Thorin. "Now, make my hand rise again."

The pain was excruciating as Kíli breathed in again, but he forced himself to the very limits of his endurance – admittedly, not very far these days – and then slowly breathed out.

"Keep going," Thorin coaxed, his thumb still working on Kíli's temples. Once more, Kíli breathed in and out, biting back a scream as his lungs throbbed painfully. His body fought any action that brought him pain, which was everything, and frustration burned in Kíli's belly. He just wanted it all to end – but he was forced to stay in this world, forced to keep feeling this agony, forced to endure and suffer for the sake of others. He knew it was selfish to wish to die, but he could not help but desire a respite from the torture that the last three weeks had been. Why was he still fighting? Darkness filtered into the edges of his mind, creeping closer to him like ghostly fingers.

"Kíli! Kíli, breathe!" called Thorin's voice through the darkness. He gasped obediently – this breath was surprisingly easier than the last, and the darkness crept away once again and left him in the living world. He longed to call it back, but suddenly Fíli's face filled his mind.

What would Fíli do without him? What would he do without Fíli? No – they needed each other. He had forgotten that when he had given up, and he would not let himself forget again. The memory of Fíli's stricken face when he had tried to say goodbye came to him, and his heart wrenched horribly with guilt; never had he seen his brother look so lost, and he had been the cause of it. He hadn't cared then, but now his eyes filled with tears. How could he have been so cruel?

"Wh-where's Fíli?" he rasped.

"He can't come in right now," Thorin growled. Kíli could hear the anger in his voice, and he wished his uncle would not be so hard on his brother. Fíli was right to be angry with him. He didn't deserve Thorin's wrath.

"I want Fíli," he demanded, his voice barely higher than a whisper.

"Don't get yourself worked up again," said Dís gently. "You can see him later."

Kíli let out a pathetic sob and curled onto his side, his back turned to his mother. They were both angry with his brother, but Fíli wasn't to blame. He was. He had been the one that caused everything. Fíli was just reacting in the way that he always would: as a big brother. Of course he would be worried for Kíli – it had been the older dwarf's nature for as long as Kíli could remember. He had seen how Fíli's condition had deteriorated in the past weeks, and he had fought to get better from his brother's sake; but when the pneumonia had taken hold of him, he had lost his way, forgetting his brother and burrowing into himself when he got too tired of living. He had brought this affliction upon his brother with his own selfish actions, and now Dís and Thorin were angry with Fíli, and no one was angry with him. No one except Fíli, anyway – the one person he wanted most.

"Please," he sobbed. "Please, I want Fíli."

"Kíli, you're only making it harder for yourself to breathe," said Dís. "Calm down."

Kíli gulped for air, feeling lonely and wretched. They didn't understand. Thorin may have been the one who pulled Kíli back out of the darkness when he had sank into it so willingly, but it was not until now that he had decided to stay – and he had decided to stay for Fíli. Now they were keeping his brother from him, and he didn't know what to do. His sobs quieted as he despaired, replaced by short, shallow breaths that did not bring him the air that he needed. Darkness crept up on him once again, and in his misery he considered giving in to it.

"Kíli!" Thorin said frantically, his rough voice piercing through the shadow. "Kíli, don't give in, lad. Stay with us."

Kíli moaned despondently and attempted to push the darkness away, but it lingered. Kíli reached out frantically for Thorin. He needed someone to touch, someone to hold him, to keep him in the world of the living. He could feel himself slipping away, and he needed to stay – for Fíli. He wouldn't leave him.

Thorin slipped an arm under Kíli's back and pulled him up, and Kíli let his head fall against his uncle's chest. He gripped the sleeve of Thorin's tunic and focused on pushing away the remaining darkness, but it hovered stubbornly. Fear coursed through Kíli's body like an icy dart, and he shuddered.

"Help," he said weakly.

"I've got you, Kíli," Thorin said, holding his nephew's head to himself. "I won't let you go."

Kíli merely whimpered in response and tightened his fist around the fabric on Thorin's arm. The darkness was pressing now, and he could barely breathe at all; he attempted to scream, hoping to shoo away the shadow before it got too close, but all that came out was a faint wail. Already he could feel the dark ghostly fingers touching him, and his resolve was wavering.

"Breathe," Thorin commanded, and Kíli sucked in all the air that he could with a grating gasp. His lungs protested, but he forced himself to breathe out evenly. He took in another breath on his own, then another, and relaxed as the darkness trickled away; gasping, he released his clenched fists and sank into Thorin's chest. He could feel a line of spittle making its way down his chin, but he was too exhausted to care. He wished for a time when simply staying alive was not a difficult task.

"There, lad, that's better," said Thorin, still hugging Kíli close. "It's all right. You'll be all right."

I'd be better if Fíli were here, Kíli thought. He ached for Fíli's presence. He needed to apologize to him, to make sure that he was not still angry with him; he wanted to ask again for his brother, but he had too little air to think about wasting it on words, and he was far too exhausted to put the effort into signing anything. He could feel Dís's fingers gently scratching his back, and he made a small contented hum at her soothing touch. He resumed his normal pattern of breathing – normal for the past few weeks, anyway. It was painful, but he had learned to tolerate this level of pain. After the episode he had just had, it was almost a comfort to be at this familiar level instead of holding on to life by a thread.

"We should let him sleep," said Dís. "He needs rest."

Thorin grunted in agreement. Kíli could feel the rumble of his voice against his cheek; it was strangely soothing. He closed his eyes and listened as Thorin spoke.

"He'll probably need the draught," he said, and Kíli grimaced. He both hated and loved the sleeping draught. It let him sleep through the pain, but it tasted so absolutely horrible that every time he took some, he swore to himself that he would never let it pass his lips again, only for his determination to crumble as he yearned for an escape from the constant suffering.

"Do you think you need it?" said Thorin, addressing Kíli directly now. Kíli nodded reluctantly. He heard the clink of the glass bottle against the metal spoon, and a familiar stubborn feeling rose within him. They were going to try to put it in his mouth for him, as if he were an infant. Invalid as he was, he was no baby, and he shook his head as the spoon came into view.

"Kíli, don't start this again," Thorin warned. "Just take it."

Kíli was too tired to put up a fight. His stubbornness faded away as quickly as it had come, and he opened his mouth and allowed the disgusting draught to slide down his throat. The bitter, slimy liquid made him gag, and Thorin bent him over slightly in case he did more, but he held his own. Another spoonful came into view, and he opened his mouth again, allowing himself to be subjected to the horrible taste and the painful humiliation once more. He felt it work quickly, and soon he drifted away into sleep, grateful for relief.

"He's still not home, Thorin."

Kíli slowly opened his eyes to the darkness, his interest immediately piqued. Who wasn't home? It had to be Fíli. Where had he gone?

"Quiet, Dís. You'll wake him," Thorin said, his voice resonating into Kíli's head as he rested on his chest. Curious, Kíli closed his eyes again and forced himself to remain still and breathe evenly. There was silence for a moment, and then Dís spoke.

"It's been two hours, Thorin," she whispered. "It's bitter cold outside."

"Dís, he goes out on his own for hours all the time. Why are you worried?" Thorin whispered back.

"He goes out with Kíli for hours, Thorin, not by himself," Dís retorted. "You didn't see how ill he was. He could barely stand."

Thorin was silent, and Kíli let this news sink in. Fíli was missing, and he was ill… A twist of worry formed in Kíli's stomach. Fíli was always the levelheaded one, pulling Kíli back from rash, foolish decisions. What was he thinking, going off into the cold for hours in his condition? Something was very, very wrong. He listened hungrily for more information.

"Why would he run off?" Dís said.

"Perhaps he needed to cool off," Thorin said. "He was—"

"Cool off?" Dís said incredulously. "Thorin, you don't seem to understand. He could barely walk." She paused. "I don't think he's in his right mind. I think something in him snapped last night."

Kíli's heart sank, and tears sprung to his eyes. It took all of his resolve to keep from giving in to the emotion that rose in him – he knew that if they knew he was awake, they would stop talking, and he needed to know what was going on with Fíli. He needed to know what he had done to his brother.

"What do you mean?" said Thorin, his deep voice now tinged with worry.

"He had this… this look in his eyes, Thorin," said Dís, her voice wavering. "I've never seen him look like that. Like he wasn't even here. Like he didn't even know I was talking to him half the time."

Kíli bit his lip and forced himself to breathe steadily, but his chest had tightened, and it was hard to draw in an adequate breath. He could feel itch of a coughing spasm about to come on, but he fought it as hard as he could, fear gripping him at the thought of the pain and the struggle that would follow.

Thorin grunted thoughtfully, but he said nothing. Kíli felt a burn of frustration at his uncle. Why wasn't he worried? He should have been worried sick.

"I'm putting together a search party," said Dís. "I'm not going to let him freeze to death out there because you think he's fine."

"Dís…"

"No, Thorin," she said. "You are so worried for Kíli that you have forgotten about Fíli. He's your nephew, too, and you would do well to remember it." Her footsteps retreated from the room.

Thorin sighed, and Kíli felt him slump back into the headboard. He rested his chin on the top of Kíli's head and placed a hand on his hot temples. Kíli could feel the itch growing stronger, and he clenched his fists, his body stiffening in fear.

"Kíli?" Thorin said. "Are you awake?"

It was coming, and he couldn't stop it. He took in one harsh, frantic breath, trying to get as much air as he could before it started – his lungs felt like they would burst, and he cried out in distress. Not this. Not again. He half-screamed, half-sobbed as the pain ripped through him, and he began to cough violently, doubling over, supported only by Thorin's strong arms.

"Try to breathe," Thorin said, his voice low. Kíli took in half a breath before another cough forced its way out of his lungs. It was too much. He didn't want to do this again. He shut down, withdrawing into himself and leaving his body to do what it would. He could still feel the coughs wracking his body, but it was a distant pain, somewhere a ways away from his retreat.

"Don't give up, Kíli!" Thorin bellowed from somewhere above the surface. "Kíli, keep trying!"

I don't want to, he thought, but he couldn't say anything in this spasm. His coughs were weaker now as his body could not pull in enough air to keep them going, and he felt dizzy. The oily tendrils of darkness eased their way into his mind again, and he panicked. No – he couldn't do this. Not without Fíli. Never without Fíli. He pushed away from the darkness and back to the surface, forcing himself back into his burning body with a scream. Thorin held him tight as he sobbed silently, his hands desperately gripping at his uncle's sleeves. He needed to keep himself in this world, if it took everything within him and more. He wanted Fíli. He needed his brother at his side.

"Keep breathing, Kíli," Thorin said. "You're doing well."

"Fi… Fíli," Kíli wheezed through his tears.

"Later, Kíli. Just breathe."

"No!" Kíli shouted, surprising himself with the strength of his voice. "I – I need… him here."

Thorin was quiet for a moment. "He'll be back soon," he said.

Kíli knew he was lying – he had heard his uncle's conversation with his mother. He knew Fíli was missing, and he knew that there was no telling if or when they would find him. There were plenty of places he could have gone, and he had been missing for hours already. The frustration tightened in his heart, and he gritted his teeth angrily. You will not give up, he told himself. You will stay. For Fíli.

He had never been a patient dwarf. The idea of waiting in this pain was enough to make him want to hack something to pieces. He breathed harshly, but at least his body was cooperating for once, and he considered trying to sleep until Fíli came back. Instantly, the full weight of his fatigue crashed down on him, and he dropped his head onto Thorin's forearm and closed his eyes.

"M'tired," he muttered.

"Do you need—"

"No," he said. He tightened his grip on his uncle. "Don't… don't leave me, though."

"I'll stay until Fíli gets back," Thorin said. "Just… make sure that you stay, too."

Kíli could hear the thick emotion in Thorin's voice, and a wave of sympathy washed over him. He could only imagine what he was putting his normally self-possessed uncle through with this, and he wished that he could get better immediately and stop everyone from worrying about him. The thought brightened his mind a little – a welcome change from the despair he had accepted in the past days.

He would stay. And he would wait. He owed his family that much.

Still working on Chapter 18! It'll come soon. I'm halfway done with it, and now that this is out of my system, I'll be running back to Fili so we can see how he's doing. :) Please review! Goodies come to those who do ;)