Claus rolled a tiny, white pill between his thumb and index finger, eyeing it suspiciously. He'd been doing this little dance off and on since the day before: getting a glass of water, taking out one of his new pills, and then hemming and hawing over putting it in his mouth before finally returning it to the bottle and tossing away the water. This time was no exception.

Screwing the cap back onto the pill bottle, Claus berated himself for his indecision. This would be a lot easier if his mom and dad would sit him down and force him to take his medicine, but no. They said this had to be his decision. He had to want to get better. Of course he wanted to get better! That didn't mean he was going to swallow anything prescribed by that butcher, Dr. Andonuts, though.

The house was quiet, as it always was in the middle of the day. Mom and dad were out running errands together. Grandpa was dozing in front of the fire with Boney passed out at his feet. Lucas was the only other person both home and awake. He was sitting at the kitchen table with a book. It was a relief, actually; Claus hadn't had any time to himself since that night at the castle.

He began to pace around the room. Being cooped up like this was the worst for somebody like him, who wanted nothing more than to be outdoors. That day they spent fishing was nice, but too short. Fuel and his dad came along, and after some initial awkwardness it was like old times again.

He eyed the bottle of pills. The doctor said they'd make him feel better, but he had his doubts. Could a little pill really do that? If it did, would he want it to? Remembering everything that happened was painful, but it was also real. Without the pain, he feared those memories would lose their meaning, and he'd lose himself all over again. On the other hand, maybe the person he was now wasn't so great. He was angry, resentful and suspicious all the time, but to him it seemed justified. Maybe it wasn't. There was no way he could tell, and thinking about it made his brain hurt like it had been shoved through a sieve. That was his problem these days: he couldn't trust himself.

Normally he would turn to Lucas when he didn't know what to do, but his faith in his brother was shaken when he learned that Lucas had kept the truth of what happened to him a secret. Unfortunately he didn't have anyone else to turn to. "Hey, Lucas?"

Lucas put his book down and turned to look. "Yeah?"

Claus bit his tongue, dodging his brother's gaze. "Um . . . what'cha reading?"

"Overcoming Shyness," Lucas answered casually.

"Is it any good?"

Lucas's reticence to answer said it all. ". . . It's okay." If he was being honest, he'd been reading over the same page for the last twenty minutes or so without processing a word of it.

"Good." Claus nodded affirmatively before resuming his pacing. ". . . Good."

Sensing his brother's pent-up energy, Lucas spoke up. "You seem bored. Do you want to do something?"

"Like what?" Claus asked. "We can't go anywhere." He wasn't allowed to wander the countryside the way he liked anymore, alone with his thoughts and the fresh air. It was for his own good, his parents said. He understood that, right? Right?! Oh, he understood perfectly. That didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

"I'm sure we can come up with something," Lucas said with a gentle smile. "We could talk, or play a game, or, uh . . ." He looked around thoughtfully in hopes of finding something to keep his brother occupied.

As much as he'd changed after that night at the Castle, Claus was reminded that his brother had changed too. Lucas was so much more like his old self these days, rather than the brooding, isolated person he'd become. There was nothing like seeing somebody else happy to make Claus feel worse. "Have you learned anything new about the Dragon?" Claus asked provocatively, knowing it would get a rise.

"Not really," Lucas responded calmly. "I haven't given it much thought."

Claus was visibly irked, but resolved to keep pushing. "So you're finally taking my advice, huh? Good. It's about time you listened to your older brother." That was sure to get a reaction.

"Yep," Lucas answered placidly. "You were right all along."

"Okay, what gives?" Claus demanded with a scowl.

Lucas shrank back, not expecting such an outburst. "Huh?"

"Are you going to smile and nod at everything I say now?" Claus asked.

Shaking his head, Lucas sighed and tried to get his brother to relax. "No, I'm agreeing with you. That whole thing with the Dragon was only making me miserable."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better," Claus said accusingly, his arms folded in front of him.

"Can we not do this?" Lucas asked quietly. "I don't want to fight."

Claus ground his molars. "Why not? Do you think I can't handle it? Is one wrong word gonna push me over the edge?"

"Haven't we fought enough already?" Lucas asked. "Let's get along for once."

"Stop that!" Claus snarled. "It's bad enough that mom and dad treat me like a little kid, but now you're doing it too. I don't need a babysitter, dammit! I'm older than you!" The redhead hated the idea of needing his younger twin to come to his rescue yet again.

Lucas took a breath before answering. He was not going to let himself be goaded. "Tell me what's wrong."

"You know what's wrong," Claus hissed.

Lucas looked his brother in the eye and repeated: "Tell me."

"Forget it." He was stupid to even bring it up in the first place, Claus thought.

"I can't help if you won't let me know what's bothering you," Lucas reminded him. "But if that's how you want to do this, I could always try to guess. Tell me if I'm hot or cold, okay?"

"Don't get cute with me," Claus grumbled.

Apparently turnabout was not fair play as far as Claus was concerned. Lucas composed himself and tried again. "What makes you think we're treating you like a little kid?"

"Because I can't even go to the bathroom without somebody hovering over me!" Claus snapped. "What, do you think I'm gonna stab myself with a toothbrush?"

Lucas was about to tell his brother that they were simply worried about him, but thought better of it. "So you want us to give you more space?"

The blonde's new non-confrontational approach was both refreshing and grating, but Claus had to admit it was nice to be listened to. "Exactly! Don't you think things will go back to normal a lot faster if we can at least act normal?"

Lucas again held his tongue before responding. "Do you think that would help?"

Claus was less amused by his brother's approach this time. "What gives, Lucas? Can't you answer a simple question?"

"I'm—" He cut himself off almost as soon as he began, then tried again. "Help me understand what you want."

"Okay, now I know you're jerking me around," Claus told him. "Where'd you get that line from?"

Lucas averted his gaze before sheepishly answering: "It's from a book I read." Specifically, it was a pseudo-psychological book on conflict resolution that Dr. Andonuts recommended. Lucas had been devouring such tomes since his brother had regained his memories.

"Well knock it off," Claus warned him. "I don't want to talk to a book. I want to talk to you."

"I'm trying," Lucas assured his brother. "Sorry if it's not working."

Claus was in a forgiving mood, now that he could tell his brother was speaking from the heart. "Whatever. Just don't be fake with me."

"I do want to hear what you're thinking, though," Lucas added. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but it might put my mind at ease."

"Look, it's real simple. I know I'm kinda screwed up, and I can't be sure that I might not try to kill myself again someday," Claus confessed. "But today isn't that day. Neither is tomorrow or the day after. Keeping me under lock and key twenty-four seven isn't helping. Treating me with kid gloves isn't helping either. I want things to go back to normal, to be able to walk around on my own and have a real argument with you instead of getting a bunch of half-baked mumbo-jumbo."

Lucas sighed, recognizing how reasonable the request was but needing to address something more important. "If it won't be today or tomorrow, then when?" he asked. "How would we know? Would you fill us in? Could you even tell when it might happen?"

"Well it's not gonna come out of the blue!" Claus exclaimed. "You get why I did it, right? For the first time in three years I had control over myself again. Even if everything I'd been through and all the stuff I'd done weren't bad enough to want to die, I had no idea how long my freedom would last. I couldn't risk losing myself again. But I don't have to worry about that anymore." At least that was what he told himself. Deep down, it still scared the hell out of him.

"So you wouldn't have done it if you knew you wouldn't fall under Porky's control again?" Lucas asked.

"No," Claus told his brother. "Maybe. I don't know." Even having lived it, those few fleeting moments were a jumble in his head. All he was certain of back then was that he needed to die. "You wouldn't have done the same thing if you were in my shoes?"

It was an impossible question to answer without going through that himself. "Do you want me to tell you that you were right to do it?" Lucas asked. "Do you want me to say you were justified? Because I'm not going to do that."

"Like you'd even know," Claus snapped. "You didn't have to go through that."

"You're right. I didn't," Lucas admitted. "But I'm never going to tell you that it's okay to kill yourself. I can forgive you for doing it, and I can understand where you were coming from, but you'll never have my permission to do something so . . . selfish."

Claus bristled at his brother's accusation. "Selfish? I was trying to save you! If I lost control again I might have killed you. Or you might have been forced to kill me."

Lucas looked at Claus sadly. "Is that the real reason you did it?"

Unable to return his brother's gaze, Claus answered honestly. "It was one reason."

"I'm sorry," Lucas apologized suddenly. "I'm probably not doing you much good, am I? Here you are, already depressed, and I'm only making things worse. Some help I am." He gave a half-hearted chuckle before looking away.

Thinking back to his conversation with his father, Claus summoned up the nerve to keep going. "I shouldn't have used you to do it." Even if he believed he was right to do what he did – and he was questioning even that much – Claus truly regretted using his brother to make it happen.

Lucas winced at those words, the nerve still raw even months after the fact. "No. You shouldn't have," he agreed.

"You're still angry with me," Claus realized.

"I'm not angry," Lucas lied.

"Yes you are. Just admit it," Claus persisted. "You can't expect me to tell you how I feel if you won't give a little bit in return, you know."

"I'm trying really hard to not make things worse," Lucas insisted. "But there's nothing I can do if you keep looking for ways to make yourself miserable."

Claus couldn't help but laugh at the irony. "Didn't I tell you the same thing?"

Lucas gave an awkward grimace. "Something along those lines."

Shaking his head and smiling, Claus sat down in the chair next to Lucas. Something had changed in the air, and they both knew it. "Well, it was good advice. Too bad you suck at following it."

"You think you could show me how it's done?" Lucas suggested hopefully.

With an exaggerated sigh, Claus acquiesced. "Fine, if you insist. I've got to set a good example for my baby brother, after all."

Torn between laughter and disbelief, Lucas snorted. "Dork."

"I know you are, but what am I?" Claus asked as he ruffled Lucas's coiffed 'do.

Lucas batted his brother's hand away, but he was too late to save himself a few minutes of combing. "Y'know, for somebody who doesn't want to be treated like a little kid, you sure do act like one," he pointed out.

"Well if that's how you're going to treat me anyway, why shouldn't I?" Claus asked. "It'd be nice if you'd treat me like a little kid who gets to play outside though."

Lowering his voice, Lucas let his sibling in on a little secret. "You didn't hear it from me, but mom and dad might consider it if you start taking your medicine."

"What a drag," Claus whined. "Have you seen the side effects on this stuff?" He picked up the bottle again and toyed with it. "I mean, it says these can give you both diarrhea and constipation. How's that work?"

"Poorly," Lucas guessed.

"Hyperactivity," Claus continued. "Mood swings. Dry mouth. Sensitivity to light. Hot flashes. Nausea. Skin rash. Erectile dys—oh; that's a bad one. If I had even half of these I'd have a real good reason to be depressed."

"So is that a 'no'?" Lucas wondered.

"I'm not saying no," Claus clarified, "but I wanted to warn you that these might make me a little loopy."

"I can put up with it," Lucas assured his brother. "But it's your call. I've got your back either way."

Lucas was annoyingly supportive sometimes, Claus decided. It made staying mad at him too much of a hassle. "You really think mom and dad might let me go out if I start taking these?" he asked.

"Well, maybe," Lucas hedged his bets. "Mom would probably throw a fit if either of us wandered too close to the river, but I don't think walking to Fuel's place would be out of the question."

It wasn't wandering the countryside like he wanted, but it was a start. "Thanks for talking to Fuel, by the way."

"I don't know what you mean," Lucas answered, feigning ignorance.

"C'mon, you and I both know Fuel wouldn't have done anything without a push," Claus said slyly. "He's dumb like that."

"Hey, you're the one that likes him," Lucas noted.

"Yeah, well, dumb can be cute," Claus admitted. "Seriously, though. Thanks."

Lucas nodded. "Any time. If you want, I can see if he's free to come over tomorrow. It might break up the boredom a little."

Claus was engrossed in reading the label on his pills. "Maybe not tomorrow," he said. "Let's see how hard these side effects hit me first."