Unlike his sister, Gemini didn't exactly have a light sleep – actually, it could take a while and a lot of noise to wake him up, especially when he was really tired. Then again, she supposed anyone would wake up with someone shaking their shoulder hard enough to almost make their teeth clatter…be she apparently was wrong. She shook him a bit harder.

"Five more minutes, mom," he muttered, turning on the other side, but his only eye snapped open and he yelped when someone suddenly poked his side right on a rather sensitive spot that never failed to make him wince if pressed…and there was only one person who knew about that.

"What the…?" he said groggily, reaching up to rub his eyes – well, his only eye, for he had only one eye to rub and one hand to do so. It took him a few moments to remember where he was and why again, and when he did his face twisted into a scowl. "Was that necessary?" he grunted, shooting an angry glare at his sister as he sat up. His body still ached, but it was more bearable than it had been the previous day.

"Yes," Dr. Director said, looking rather amused "five more minutes? Mom?" she mocked him.

Gemini folded his arms, a little embarrassed. "I was still sleeping," he pointed out sulkily "what time is it anyway?"

"Five in the morning."

"What?"

"I don't usually have to go this early, but I have to get rid of the jet that brought you here," she said. She would probably set up the autopilot again and send it crashing somewhere, maybe on a desert mountain range – it would open up the hypothesis her brother had been killed in the crash, which could help her to interrupt the search for him sooner. "And of course, there is going to be a lot of extra work at Global Justice since we're officially looking for you," she remarked "and I have to supervise the search, obviously. Ironic, isn't it?"

Gemini instinctively opened his mouth to tell her to not say 'Global Justice' in front of Pepe, but the words died in his throat as he realized that Pepe wasn't there to hear. He felt a sudden pang of concern – how was he doing? Were they treating him properly? He surely had to be terribly tense all the time, surrounded by people in GJ uniforms, he thought uncomfortably. Gemini shook his head, trying to ignore the thought for time being – he better not remind her just how worried for his dog he was: last thing he wanted was giving her another weapon to use against him. "Yes, ironic. And you woke me up because…?"

Dr. Director shrugged and handled him a mug. "Here's you coffee," she said just a little stiffly – it was clear she was trying to be somewhat civil around him since they were going to have to endure each other's presence for a while.

Her brother tried to think of something sarcastic to say, but nothing came to his mind. He just reached for the mug. "Is it…?"

"Straight black, no milk, no sugar," she said with a shrug "I still remember how you like your coffee."

He nodded. "Right," was all he said before sipping some of the hot, bitter liquid "don't tell me you just woke me up to give me coffee."

"Not really," she handled him a pen and notebook "I want you to write down under what names you have at least a couple of your bank accounts: even minor ones, it doesn't matter. We already blocked the one as Steven Smith, by the way – really, you kinda lack of imagination when it comes to fake names."

He raised an eyebrow, ignoring her remark for now. "And I should do so because…?"

"Because this way everybody will keep their attention on them, waiting for you to try retrieving money," Dr. Director just said "and when they'll see you're not showing up, it will be easier to convince them you either died in the crash of the jet you stole, or that you had other sources we didn't know about and managed to elude our controls. Either way, after a while without any sign of you, there will be no suspicions on me when I'll loosen the surveillance on your acquaintances and let you slip lower in the 'most wanted' list – the sooner that can happen, the sooner you can get out of here. But until then, they need at least to have something to chew onto. They must think we're trying."

Gemini stared at her for a few moments. "You'd make one heck of a criminal," he said without thinking.

"I guess I'll take it as a compliment," she said coldly, clearly not liking the idea…even though it really was the closest thing to a compliment she had heard from her brother in nearly two decades "now write."

Her brother grimaced a little, but he eventually complied and he scribbled down a few names – those were just minor accounts he could do without after all. "Here," he said, taking back he mug and taking another sip of coffee.

She glanced at the names he had written and blinked. "Bertram Wooster? Bertram?"

"I had been watching some television series before I opened that account," he said somewhat defensively.

"I see," Dr. Director frowned as she read the other fake names – Gabriel Raymond sounded fairly normal, but that other one… "Do I even want to know about where this Sasha von…something comes from?"

Gemini shook his head, grinning almost sheepishly. "No, you don't want to know about that one."

She decided to keep her curiosity and just nodded. "Fine. I got you some stuff yesterday, unless you want to keep wearing that," she said as she grabbed the keys, barely turning to glance at the prison uniform he was still wearing "just so you don't forget, don't try contacting anyone, don't open the curtains and don't get out. And I'd kinda like to find my home still standing when I get back, so don't…are you listening?" she asked, stopping in the doorway, her hand on the knob.

He didn't reply for a few moments, his gaze fixed on the framed picture on the table in the middle of the living room. He could vaguely remember thinking that picture was somewhat familiar before he fell asleep the previous evening, right after getting inside, but he hadn't really taken a closer look. Now he could see why it looked familiar: it was because he knew when that shot had been taken, and because he was in it.

It was the picture of their high school graduation, with their mother standing behind them – he was mildly amused to see how taller than her they both were already – and he felt an odd pang of something he couldn't exactly define as he looked at it. That had probably been one of the best moments in their lives, he thought. Things were so different when that picture had been taken: they had just graduated, got a scholarship for college and felt like nothing could ever go wrong again – damn, it had felt like just everything life could offer was within their reach. It had been before his accident, before college, before they…well…

"Why do you keep it here?" he finally asked, turning to look at her.

Dr. Director's only eye narrowed. "It's none of your concern," she said, but she avoided his gaze, looking rather uneasy.

"Isn't it odd, keeping the picture of your worst enemy in your living room?" he sneered.

She glared at him. "That wasn't my enemy – that was my brother," she said coldly before stepping outside, slamming the door shut behind her. Gemini kept staring at the closed door for a few moments, mouth agape, then he glanced back at the picture just for a moment before turning his gaze away, putting down his coffee mug with a grim expression. He didn't feel like finishing it.

Gemini had expected the time they would have to spend in the same house to be like hell, but he definitely hadn't expected to find out that the worst part would be having to just sit there doing nothing while his sister was away to pretend she was looking for him. Infuriating as dealing with her was – and it was infuriating for both of them, actually, which brought both of them to get even more annoying to each other – the infinite boredom while having to stay alone there with pretty much nothing to do was worse. He had considered getting back to sleep, but he didn't have many chances to fall asleep again anytime soon after taking the coffee…besides, he had slept through most of the previous day already.

Taking a look around the house had only taken ten minutes – it would have taken less if only he hadn't to walk slowly because of his aching body – and he had found nothing interesting. Well, not that he had been looking very hard, but he was sure he wouldn't find anything anyway. While it was clear that whoever lived there didn't spend much time home since everything was very functional and almost impersonal, one would have never thought that was the home of the head of a powerful global organization.

For a moment he had considered trying to read something, but since he had found no books around he had come to the conclusion she probably kept them in her bedroom – and that was the only room in that place he had no intention to get into. Trying to use the computer he had found in her study (it was locked, of course, but that hadn't been much of a problem) hadn't turned out any better since it required a password and a retinal scan to get working – she surely had no intention to share whatever she had there with anyone, let alone with him. And anyway, what could he do with it? It wasn't like he could try contacting anyone, even though he was itching to do so: it would be too risky.

He had eventually decided to just eat something and take a shower before he began thinking of what the heck he could do while stuck there. Breakfast hadn't been anything special, considering that there wasn't much in the kitchen. He had been tempted to just eat the eggs he had found in the fridge, but he had decided to keep them for lunch. He had tried to eat some of those cereals Betty apparently had for breakfast – why would someone have breakfast with cereals anyway? Eggs and bacon would be much better in his opinion. He had eventually thrown away that stuff despite the hunger and went to take a shower, his mood getting worse and worse with each passing minute – but at least, a hot shower would serve to soothe his nerves. Maybe.

The again, maybe not. Gemini scowled as he put on some shirt Betty had given him – yes, it was definitely too tight on his shoulders. He seriously wondered if she had done that in purpose or something to make him uncomfortable – and damn it, he had nearly forgotten how difficult it was buttoning up a shirt with only one hand! Now he did remember why he hadn't worn any shirt with buttons until he got a prosthetic hand, he mused as he finally gave up and decided to leave the last few buttons unbuttoned – tight as it was, it probably wouldn't be comfortable to keep it buttoned up. Still, the fact he couldn't do something as simple as that bothered him. He gave an annoyed glare at his stump.

His mechanical hand had obviously been taken away as soon as he had been captured – nobody would be stupid enough to leave him a potentially dangerous weapon – and they hadn't even bothered to replace it with anything else. Not that it surprised him in the slightest, but he hated it how oddly lost he felt now, with only one hand. It simply made no sense, of course: he could live with one hand, he had done so for years, and in time he had eventually stopped to think of himself as crippled. He did well with one hand, and that was enough.

Yes, it was enough…until Betty saved the lives of something like a hundred people and became a heroine to everyone: with everyone treating her as if she were some kind of goddess while you were pretty much flushing your own life down a toilet, your resentment towards her grew even more. And you began to feel crippled again, to think that you could have done even better than her in the same situation if only you had two hands, if only you could get enough money to afford it. Do you even realize how much you let her affect you?

Gemini shook his head. "No," he said aloud "she never had anything to do with it. I was given a chance to make money, and I seized it. Nothing more," he muttered, but he didn't sound convincing at his own ears "it had nothing to do with her!"

Don't try to fool yourself, the point was never the money alone – you decided to go against everything you had ever been taught to value so you could use the money to get a prosthetic hand…and the main reason why you wanted to have a hand back was to show everyone you could be better than your perfect little sister, to show her and everyone else you could be better than her if only you weren't one hand short.

"That was just the beginning," he muttered "I had…other reasons."

And indeed, after accepting the job Jack had offered him he had found out illegality isn't that bad after all if you can get a profit from it – damn it, after a new hand he could even get an actual car rather than that old excuse of a pick-up held together with spit, duct tape and prayer he had. For the first time in his life he could get all the money he wanted without having to struggle with some stupid part-time job. It was a good deal.

And still, the point wasn't money – you did it all because it gave you back all your confidence, and because you wanted to prove yourself better than your sister. And then, after the fight that costed you your eye, you kept going down that path because you wanted to make things harder for her. You wanted to humiliate her, to defeat her on her own ground, to put her in her place. This is how you ended up as the man you are.

"No."

She was right: everything you did in your life revolved around her one way or another.

"NO!"

There was a sound of breaking glass and then a sudden bolt of pain exploded in his only hand, and he had to grit his teeth together to not scream, his only eye tightly shut. As the pain subsided slightly, he realized what the cause had been: he had punched the mirror without even realizing it. The mirror had broken – seven years of bad luck, he thought for a moment, and he almost laughed for no actual reason – and his hand was bleeding, some small pieces of glass sticking out from his knuckles. He withdrew his hand to take a closer look, the pained grimace of his face turning into a surprised and somewhat worried expression as the realization sank in mind – he had punched a mirror with no reason.

What the hell was I thinking?

You weren't thinking at all.

Gemini swallowed before looking around for something he could use to stop the bleeding, then he picked up the shirt of the prison uniform he had discarded before taking a shower, somehow ripped away a sleeve – it was so easy to rip that he wondered if they made that stuff out of paper – and managed to wrap it around his hand, yanking it tight with his teeth. At least it was already stopping bleeding: those were just minor cuts that would heal in a couple of days. The thought of removing the pieces of glass didn't even occur to him: how could he do so without another hand anyway?

He was going to have to ask Betty to either get him some prosthetic hand or to remove the glasses herself, and the thought made him feel nearly sick. As if having to hide in her house, sleep on her couch and eat her leftovers wasn't humiliating enough. Gemini sighed and leaned against the wall, waiting for the pain in his hand to subside. What in the world had gotten in him? It wasn't alright losing control like that, it wasn't alright at all. He snarled. "It's her fault. It's all her fault!" he muttered to no one in particular.

No, it's your fault: you let her affect you. Again.

Sheldon Director couldn't think of anything he could retort to that.

He was sitting on the couch, boring himself to tears while watching some stupid commercial and seriously considering the idea to try eating some piece of furniture to make his stomach stop grumbling when she got back home. Gemini stiffened as he heard her unlocking the front door and walking in, but he didn't turn to look at her – he just kept staring blankly at the TV and pretending he was interested in some Smarty Mart discount of…ladies underwear. What a wonderful timing, he through with a grimace.

Dr. Director, however, didn't even noticed what was going on the screen: she had been glaring at her brother, expecting some to say something, and her gaze had been drawn to the makeshift bandage around his hand. "Sheldon," she said slowly "what happened to your hand?"

He shrugged. "You happened to be there when it was blown up," he said casually, pretending to not get what she meant. He tried to casually hide his hand behind his back, and he winced as a slight brush against his back pushed one of the shards deeper. Alright, maybe it hadn't been such a great idea.

She didn't seem in the right mood for his comebacks. She never was, really. "Your other hand."

"I had an accident. You might need a new mirror in the bathroom – it depends on how much you like looking at yourself every morning. And from what I can remember, you're far from a pretty sight early in the morning," he taunted.

Dr. Director took a deep breath, mentally counting to ten. "What kind of accident?"

"Uh…" Gemini thought quickly "I slipped, and hit the mirror. I had raised my hand to stop the fall, and here it is," he lifted his hand, still wrapped in the ripped sleeve of the prisoner uniform "what the heck do you make this stuff with anyway? It took a moment to rip it."

She didn't seem convinced, but she simply shrugged. "I didn't recall you being so clumsy," she said sharply, then she glanced at his hand "and you could have bothered to use some proper medication. Did you at lest remove any splinters you got?"

"And how, exactly?" he snapped, holding up his stump.

Dr. Director gritted her teeth in annoyance, trying to keep herself from replying to his rough retort – if they were to start arguing now, there would be no stopping it – but she had to admit he had a point. She took another deep breath. "Alright," she finally said before stomping upstairs, grabbing the first aid kit and getting back in the living room "let me take a look."

Oh, no. Not from you.

"It's doing fine," Gemini protested, trying to take his hand away from her grasp.

"Oh, really?" her hand shot out quickly to roughly grab his injuried one, causing him to let out a pained yelp "this doesn't seem fine to me. These shards aren't going to evaporate, you know."

Her twin glared at her resentfully, but he didn't say anything and he didn't move as she sat next to him, unwrapped the cloth he had put around his hand and threw it aside.

"Will I still be able to play the piano?" he asked sarcastically.

Dr. Director frowned as she finally took a look at his hand – it wasn't as bad as it could have been, still… "It wasn't an accident," she scowled, turning to glare at him "what in the world made you think punching a mirror would be a good idea?"

He blinked. How could she…? "I didn't--"

"All the cuts are on your knuckles," she pointed out "if you had actually slipped at used your hand to stop the fall, they would be on your palm. What the hell were you thinking?" she asked, and for a moment she almost seemed more worried than enraged. Almost.

"I…" he hesitated, trying to think of some plausible excuse and finding none "it's none of your business," he finally said somewhat weakly.

"Don't be stupid, you're my--" she abruptly trailed off, and she bit her lower lip before correcting herself "you smashed my mirror. I guess it is my business."

"It's not!" he retorted, pulling away his hand "if that mirror is your only problem, I'll pay for it as soon as I get away from here, alright?"

Dr. Director stared at him for a moment, startled by his outburst, then she regained control and reached for his hand again, this time a little more carefully. "Don't be a stubborn idiot," she said quietly "let me take a look."

Gemini blinked and opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He shut his mouth and silently turned away as Betty took his hand in hers again and examined it for a few moments. "It shouldn't take much," she finally said as she began to carefully pull out the shards of glass from his hand, taking care of the biggest ones first.

"Ow! Watch it, that hurts!" Gemini protested.

"I thought you were a tough guy," she snapped, and he grumbled something intelligible before turning back to the other side – one point for her. "Now keep still, or it will hurt more. It's your fault anyway: you got the splinters deeper with that bandage," she bit her lower lip "why did you do it?"

"If you can tell how else was I supposed to stop the bleeding, go ahead," he retorted sulkily, forgetting that making her angry while she was pulling out the pieces of glass from his only hand wasn't the smartest idea ever.

"That's not what I meant," Dr. Director replied quietly while pulling out another splinter, still focused on his hand "why did you punch that mirror in the first place?"

Gemini hesitated only for a moment before sneering. "Maybe I just wanted to break some of your stuff – like when I cut off Baby Curly Locks' hair, remem-- ouch!" he yelped as her grip on his hand tightened, mentally cursing himself for reminding his sister about that stupid doll.

She forced herself to relax her grip, taking a deep breath. "By punching it? It would make you even more stupid than I thought."

Gemini merely snorted at her remark.

"Why did you do it?" she insisted.

"Because…" he began, and for a few moments he tried to think of anything he could say – he definitely wasn't going to let her know until what point she could affect him, make him lose control – then he scowled "just because," he finally snapped "and now, if you don't mind, I don't feel like getting through an interrogation. I already told you I'm going to pay that darn mirror back."

"Forget that stupid mirror, it's you I'm worried about!" she nearly shouted, taking him by surprise. He opened his mouth to speak, but he didn't know what to say. It happened awfully often lately.

Dr. Director sighed, shaking her head somewhat awkwardly before turning her attention back to his hand. Gemini expected her to ask again why had he punched that blasted mirror, but much to his surprise she didn't ask anything: she just kept removing the splinters, more carefully than he had dared to hope. He winced a little a few times, but he made no other move. Neither of them spoke for a while.

"I saw your dog," she finally said "it's fine, aside from the fact it's neurotic."

"He's not neurotic – he suffers from PTSD!"

"What?"

"Post-Traumatic Stress--"

"I know what it is, it's just…it's a dog, Sheldon!"

"Well, dogs can suffer from PTSD too!" he protested "check if you don't believe me! And it was your fault!"

Dr. Director nearly groaned, though taking a mental note to check if dogs could really suffer from PTSD. "And how was that my fault?"

"That guy you sent in one of my bases as a mole – do you remember what a mess he did to get away when I caught him communicating with you?"

She grinned a little before turning her attention back on his hand and pulled out another splinter. "You mean when he blew up half of your base in Alaska before fleeing with your helicopter?"

"Yeah, that," he grunted, not really wanting to dwell into that episode that much "but whatever – the point is that Pepe was still a pup, and he was nearly caught in the explosion! It traumatized him!"

"Hey, you should have known better than keeping it there. A dog shouldn't be in the base of an illegal organization meant to bring chaos in the whole globe, you know. Why didn't you leave it with its mother at mom's place anyway?"

Gemini was about to reply, but he caught himself just in time – there were a lot of things he didn't want her to know, and one of those was the fact that after spending so many years with at least a dog with him he would feel lonely without. "That's beside the point! If you hadn't sent that mole, nothing would have-- ow!"

"Almost done," Dr. Director said as she pulled out the last splinter "keep still, this will burn a little."

"I know how that works," he muttered before grimacing as she pressed some peroxide-soaked wadding on the cuts. He forced himself to not wince.

"I hope you're not going to do anything that stupid again," she finally spoke and reached for clean bandages "especially since it's the only hand you've got."

He grunted. "Yeah, I noticed."

"I might be able to give you another hand in a day or two. Without weapons, obviously, but it would be better than nothing," she said as she finished wrapping the bandages "and I'll also make sure you dog is taken elsewhere so it won't have to see people wearing GJ uniforms all time…if you stop smashing my stuff, of course. Deal?"

Gemini glanced at her, but he quickly turned his gaze away. "Deal," he said somewhat grudgingly, though making no real effort to pull back his hand this time.

She merely nodded before releasing his hand and changing subject. "Did you eat something?"

Her brother snorted. "Barely. Your fridge is emptier than your head," he said sharply, as if to made up for that earlier moment of weakness.

Dr. Director chose to ignore the childish insult. "You know, in case you didn't notice I'm rather busy most times. And there is a reason why I didn't have time to get groceries lately – you," she pointed out, sliding aside so she would be sitting on the opposite side of the couch from him and glancing at the TV "you have no idea of what a mess you caused with the whole Ron Factor thing. And now your escape is giving me a heck of a lot of work that I could easily avoid by just handing you over. I wouldn't be complaining if I were you."

Gemini was about to retort, but he eventually shut his mouth without speaking. He stayed silent for a minute or two. "I didn't ask you to get me out," he finally said somewhat sulkily, turning to glance at the TV again, but there was nothing interesting going on – just commercials.

"Yeah, right – but you accepted the offer," she pointed out.

"It's not like I had much choice, did I?"

"Well, you could have gone to prison," she suggested with a smirk.

He grunted. "And losing the chance to get you back later? You wish."

There was a brief silence as they absentmindedly watched some commercials and then the news – it looked like Drakken had tried once again to take over the world…predictably enough it hadn't worked because of Team Possible, and he had only avoided imprisonment because his sidekick had dragged him away just in time. Go figure.

"Sheldon?"

"What?"

"Are you going to stop giving me the silent treatment to ask for your dinner, or I'll have to listen to your stomach's rumblings until you faint or something?"

"You don't have to stay here to listen to anything, you know," he snapped, slightly embarrassed – he hadn't thought she could actually hear his stomach rumbling. But what the heck, he was hungry…!

"Hey, we're on my couch and that's my TV. If I want to stay here and watch TV, I'll stay here and watch TV – just be thankful I'm not kicking you out of my living room," she said sharply, and Gemini noticed she was chewing something. Before he could speak, she handled him a brown paper bag. "Your sandwiches," she just said, faintly hoping he would have enough sense to just eat it without any further discussion: she was dead tired and definitely wasn't up for a fight.

Thankfully he didn't seem up for it either, or he was just too hungry. He just took the paper bag with a sulky expression, which actually became much less sulky as he took a bite of a turkey sandwich, but he tried – with very little success – to hide it, causing him to chuckle in mild amusement. "You could at least try to keep your mouth shut while you chew," she muttered, but he didn't hear her, or pretended he hadn't. They stayed silent throughout the rest of the news.

"…pull out bed."

"Uh?" Gemini blinked as he realized his sister had just spoken.

"The couch – it's a pull out bed," she repeated "I bet that would be more comfortable than just sleeping on the couch as it is now. I'll give you a pillow and clean sheets later."

"What? Why didn't you tell me yesterday?" he protested, thinking of the way his back had ached that morning.

"Considering that you tried to attack me, I wasn't exactly in the mood," she remarked. Gemini grumbled something, but he didn't protest any further: he just shrugged and glanced away. "You know, I wouldn't mind getting a 'thank you' out of you sometime," she said with an odd mixture of annoyance at his attitude and amusement at his grumpy expression upon knowing he could have spared himself a backache.

"When you'll start treating me as your older brother, I will," he replied.

"Yeah, right. Keep dreaming," she paused "does that mean you'd really thank me if I treated you like an older brother anyway?"

"Well, no. But it was worth a try."