A warning to those of you that don't pay much attention when reading, or are a little tired right now - this chapter contains an extract from the manuscript Arthur is working on, so don't freak out when there are suddenly characters you've never heard of. Things will all be clear by the end... I hope...

The Manuscript.

"Francis, let me use your computer!"

Francis looked up over his newspaper, the silence of his rare day off shattered as Arthur let himself into the house, laptop under his arm.

"Why, what's wrong with that one?" he asked.

"Nothing." Arthur admitted "But the more back ups I have of my manuscript the better. I've got one on my computer, one on Ivans and one on my external hard drive. If I put one on yours as well then I know at least one of them won't corrupt. I lost like two years of work last time my drive corrupted."

"You've finished already?" Francis wondered, putting his newspaper down "That was quick!"

"That actual writing doesn't take long." his brother admitted "Editing and ideas and details are what takes the time. Then the publisher gets involved and asks for rewrites so it takes even longer."

"Sounds like a pain." Francis sympathised, taking his laptop off the table and handing it to Arthur "Here, you can use it on the condition that I get to read it."

"Just don't change anything." Arthur conceded "Seriously, not even a comma."

"You have my word."

Francis went back to his paper as Arthur sat beside him on the sofa and transferred the file between the computers. While Francis had momentarily forgotten about it, it was only natural that Arthur would notice the bright pink envelope sat with the rest of the post.

"I didn't know Michelle was old enough to get post." he mentioned "That or Feliks is going retro."

"Hm?"

Francis looked over his paper to remind himself what Arthur was talking about, but quickly went back to it.

"That's from Michelles mother." he admitted nonchalantly "Her maintenance cheque, probably."

"Oh..."

An awkward silence fell. Francis knew Arthur was going to ask – single fathers were unusual afteral – so pretended to keep reading until he brought it up.

"So... where exactly is Michelles mother?"

That didn't take long.

"In China, I think." Francis answered "Last time I heard from her, anyway. What does the postage stamp say?"

"What happened?"

"Nothing, really."

Francis put his paper down again, turning to a confused Arthur. He had said this a million times to half a million other people, and hoped his brother wasn't going to be one of the people who just couldn't process it.

"Laura and I were together for about 3 months when she got pregnant." he elaborated "She didn't want to be a mother – she had all these dreams about going places and doing things that she couldn't do if she had a child. It took a lot of convincing for her to believe that I would take care of the baby, like a man had never done it before."

"Well, we haven't had the best examples." Arthur reminded him.

"True." Francis conceded "About a month before her due date she was offered the job of her dreams, so left pretty much as soon as Michelle was born. She's never missed paying her maintenance and sends presents every now and then, but she's not been in the country since."

"I see." Arthur mused, taking in the information "That's not very interesting."

"Not really." he agreed "But Michelle is adorable, so I don't mind."

Arthur snorted in laughter, nodding in agreement. Francis was relieved.

"You'd be surprised how hard it is for people to understand me being a single father." he told him "They always assume it must have been some kind of horrible circumstance, like she died or has a drug habit or something."

"Yeah, Angus gets a lot of that too." Arthur revealed "Whenever he tells them he's a widow he gets the 'oh' face."

"I hate the 'oh' face." Francis grumbled.

"So does he." Arthur laughed, unhooking the computer as the file finished transferring "Patrick started telling people all sorts of weird things, like Meredith had become a nun, or joined a cult, or was locked in the attic. I'm still not sure if it was for a study or if he was just messing with them."

Another awkward silence fell. Arthur realised what he had said, going quiet as he shut his laptop.

"Do you... miss them?" Francis asked.

He had lived with them for so long, missing them would only be natural, despite everything that had happened.

"Kinda." Arthur admitted carefully "I mean, ignoring the mind altering drugs and cutting me off completely from everyone and everything I knew, they were really nice to me. Like how brothers should be."

Francis stayed still and quiet, afraid any input from him would stop Arthur from talking. While he knew his little brother was regularly seeing a psychologist, he was still worried about how quiet he had been about the whole thing. He and Arthur had always been able to talk... it took a lot of work on Francis' part in the past to build their relationship, and while he accepted that, after so long apart, it would take time to go back to the way they were, the fact that Arthur wasn't talking to him the way he used to really hurt him. Now that Arthur looked like he was ready to share, Francis wasn't going to interrupt him.

"They did something terrible." Arthur conceded, eyes on the ground as he laced his fingers "But it's not like they were bad people. Living with them was like... like how it should have been when we were kids."

He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, closing his eyes as he remembered.

"Angus was always on top of things, he always had everything planned and figured out. He was like... a dad, you know? Not just for Peter. He knew everything and was always really patient. Patrick was always over protective like..." Arthur laughed, finally looking at Francis "Like you. Only worse. He was always freaking out over little things, turning the sniffles into full blown flu. I remember the first time Peter got sick, they were bent over his crib with medical books and towels and bottles, just panicking over his runny nose. We were a family..."

Arthur sighed, troubled as he sat back against the cushions.

"I still don't understand why they felt the need to drug me." he admitted "There's so many gaps in my memory still... why did they do it? What did they think was going to happen?"

"Well," Francis supposed quietly "Perhaps they thought you were going to leave them, come back here."

"Hm." Arthur agreed "I remember almost nothing after Merediths funeral for nearly a year, but I probably would have wanted to come home. I mean, the twins, all my friends, you and mum... I know I'd have wanted to come home."

Francis just nodded, keeping to himself that he was happy this place was still 'home' in Arthurs mind. In a way, he could understand wanting to do anything to keep his brother close – if someone tried to take the twins away from him, god only knows what he would do – but he couldn't envision drugging them for years on end. No matter how nice his older brothers may have been to him, Francis was never going to forgive them for taking Arthur away.

"I guess I don't really know how to feel." Arthur admitted, shaking his head "I've tried to put myself in their position, but I still don't understand... I guess there's a piece of the puzzle I'm still missing."

"Don't think about it too hard." Francis suggested "If you linger on it forever then you'll always be their prisoner."

"Yeah, I know." he sighed "Kiku says the same thing, but with Vash asking me to remember, it's a little hard."

"I understand." Francis sympathised "It was pretty shocking about Henry, though."

"Was it?" Arthur wondered "He's been dead to me for decades."

"Amen."

"Oi."

"Hm?"

"Are you going to offer me a cup of tea or am I going to die of thirst?"

"Get it yourself: it's my day off."

"Is that any way to treat a guest?"

"You're not a guest, you're family. You know where the kitchen is."

Ivan felt distinctly out of place in the airport, standing like a menhir beside Natalyas bags as everyone milled around him. He didn't think he'd like to fly. He might visit Nat in New York one day, if she got married or something, but he couldn't imagine going through this malarkey regularly. His little sister held Arthur in her vice grip for what felt like an eternity, finally releasing him only to grab his cheeks.

"Don't you dare not keep in touch!" she warned "Or I'll have to come all the way back here just to kick your arse."

"I won't." Arthur assured with a chuckle "I'll email you all the time."

"You had better. No matter what happens – and I mean that!"

"You have my word."

"Good."

She released his cheeks, smiling in relief.

"Would you mind making an excuse to go away for five minutes?" she asked subtly "I need a moment with my brother."

Arthur chuckled again, theatrically looking around.

"Oh, would you look at that." he humoured her "There's a thing with a thing that does something. I'm going to look at it for five minutes."

"I love you too, Arthur."

With Natalya releasing his cheeks, Arthur wandered off to the newsagents, leaving the siblings alone. Whenever one of his sisters wanted to talk alone with Ivan, he felt like he was going to be lectured, and was almost certain that was what was going to happen when Natalya turned to him with a serious face.

"Thank you for letting me stay at your place." she started "I had a great time. Your house is really looking nice now."

"That's okay." Ivan assured "I liked having you over."

"You look good as well." she complimented "The best you've been in a long time, even if you are getting fat."

"I don't mind the little extra weight." he admitted "As it turns out, neither does Arthur."

"I don't need to know about your sex life, Ivan."

Ivan chuckled as Natalya pulled a face, shuffling the heavy bag on her shoulder before turning back to him.

"Seriously, though." she went on "If things don't work out with you this time, just don't let it end as badly as before. I love Arthur, but you'll always be my brother."

"You don't think we'll make it?" Ivan asked, somewhat surprised.

"You've got as good a chance as any." she admitted "And I'm honestly rooting for you, but y'know, things happen. Just remember to listen to what he says and don't assume things."

"I've learnt my lesson there." he assured her.

"And call me more often." she ordered him "I miss the sound of your voice sometimes. I'm planning on coming back next Christmas, so don't plan to go anywhere."

"We won't."

"And tell that old man I don't need a husband." she finished "He's starting to piss me off with these losers he sets me up with."

"I'll tell him off." Ivan chuckled.

Natalya waved to the loitering Arthur to let him know it was okay to come back, which he duly did. They stood there talking and saying their goodbyes for another ten minutes before Natalya said her final farewell and went up to the check-in, the men watching her until she disappeared past security.

"Loooong drive home." Ivan grumbled as she disappeared from sight.

"Stop moaning, grumpy big brother, you don't have to do this often."

"I know." he sighed "But still. Four hours here, four hours back."

"It's a long day." Arthur agreed "We could stay in the city for the night, go back home tomorrow."

Ivan wasn't crazy about the idea – he didn't get along with crowds, less and less so as he got older – but the idea of driving for eight hours didn't appeal to him either.

"What are you thinking?" he asked "Dinner and a show?"

"I was thinking more a little shopping, then room service in a nice hotel." Arthur admitted "There's a couple of speciality shops I've wanted to visit for a while, and there's a teddy bear museum I just know you'd like. Then when we're sick of the crowds we can get away from it all and have a nice dinner."

"That sounds nice." Ivan admitted, intrigued by the teddy bear museum "But on one condition."

"What's that then?"

"I want to have a talk about our relationship."

"Oh." Arthur replied gravely "Should I be worried?"

"Not at all." Ivan assured "I just want to make sure we're on the same page."

Arthur smiled at him, clearing appreciating his efforts. Taking off down the surprisingly cold terminal, Ivan was cautiously optimistic about the future.

Francis never had as much time to read as he would like, what with work, chores and childcare interruptions, so only managed to read a few pages of Arthurs manuscript at a time. One thing was for sure – it was bloody scary stuff, full of suspense and mystery. Arthurs childrens books were perfectly passable, but it would have been a damn shame to waste the talent like this. If Alfred ever read this, he would never sleep again.

With Michelle in bed and the twins loitering quietly in their rooms, Francis had a long, hot bath and poured himself a glass of white wine, settling down on his bed to read the long-awaited climax of the book: the reveal of the killer.

'Truth be told, Pearce was having some trouble coping. Adam was a complete non-presence, only coming out of his room to go to the bathroom, not even attending to the baby when he cried. Pearce could understand his feelings – he missed his sister-in-law more than he ever thought possible – but Adam was a father now, and he needed to step up and take responsibility. Oliver was still sleeping on the sofa, bless him, lumbering out of bed whenever little Pauly started to wail in the night, no matter what time, but he had his own home and his own commitments and couldn't stay at his brothers house forever.

After his accidental ingestion of the trial pills, it took Anthony a few days to come down and get his head back together, moping around like he had a bad hangover. While that meant one more pair of hands to help take care of Paul, is was clear the youngest brothers head wasn't in the game. He always had a far away look in his eyes, probably thinking about Iain, or Frankie and the twins. Either way, it was pretty clear he was thinking about going back, but now Pearce had finally gotten him away from that sink-hole of humanity, there was no way in hell he was going to let him go back. But Pearce couldn't watch the kid every second of the day – university hadn't started yet, but Pearce still had to go to work. Oliver couldn't be counted on to stop Anthony if he decided to go back to that place, and Adam couldn't be counted on for anything right now.

That's why he did it. It was just... one less thing to worry about. He didn't put a whole pill in his food – not after how long it had taken him to come down after the funeral – half a pill a day was enough to keep him nice and docile, a little sleepy and undemanding. Of course that made it a little harder for him to take care of Paul, but damn it if he didn't try.

Things were starting to pile on top of one another, and Pearce was feeling the pressure. Oliver was trying his best to be helpful, but he wasn't much of a cook and spent more time taking care of the others while Pearce was at work than doing any housework. Pearce wanted to support Adam in his time of need, but at the same time he really needed his big brother, his best friend, to snap the fuck out of his funk and help him.

It took a few weeks, but he started to come back to life, little by little as the summer ended. He reacted to Paul first, perhaps no longer able to listen to his son cry, wordlessly changing and feeding the baby before putting him back to bed. He noticed Anthonys zombie-like state next, which actually roused concern in him, forcing the new widow to engage with his brothers. It was a great relief to Pearce, who felt the weight of the world lift from his shoulders just a little. He was still quiet and mopey, but at least he was out of his room. Things were finally starting to look up for them.

However, Pearces joy was fleeting. Between Anthonys troubles and Mollys death, they had completely forgotten about Harry: it had been Mollys idea, back in the early days of her pregnancy, to try and get back in touch with the mens father. She had told them that if they wanted Anthony to forgive them for how they had treated him in the past, they should be ready to give their father a second chance as well. If they could change, so could he. The brothers were enormously reluctant to let that man back into their lives, but they couldn't argue with the ladys logic. They had gotten in touch with him, even hiring a private detective to track him down, to let him know he was expecting his first grandchild, but left the rest in his hands, more than half hoping he'd do the decent thing and stay away.

Unfortunately for them all, decency was never Harry Longbottoms strong point. It was a Tuesday afternoon when the patriarch showed up, without a single word of warning, as Pearce and Oliver were at the doctors for Pauls check-up. Adam was less than happy to see him, but honoured his late wifes wishes to give him a second chance. Harry sat at the kitchen table as his son put the kettle on, pouring them both a strong black coffee,

"I'm sorry about your wife." Harry said earnestly "I really do know how you feel."

Considering it was his mother he was talking about, Adam held his tongue.

"Do you take sugar?" he asked.

"Please, two."

Adam handed his father the coffee, sitting down tentatively. They sat in silence a moment as Harry looked all around him.

"Is it just the two of you here?" he asked "It's a pretty nice house you have here. How much did it set you back?"

"Not as much as you'd think." Adam admitted "It's always cheaper to build your own than to buy."

"You built this place?" his father asked in astonishment "I never would have expected that! Did hiring the architect cost you a lot? Those bastards gouge you more than doctors on the continent do – I never thought I'd miss the NHS, but when you have to pay private no matter what it really adds up!"

"I'm an architect." Adam answered.

"So he gave you mates rates?"

Adams patience was quickly disappearing. Was it so hard for his father to believe he was built his own house? He didn't want to deal with this – when was Pearce coming back?

"In answer to your question, no, I don't live here alone." Adam backtracked "Pearce and Anthony live with me. Oliver is staying here for a while, but he has his own place – he'll be going home when the summer holidays end."

"He's still in school?" Harry smirked "I didn't think he was that thick."

"He's a teacher, you pillock."

"He is? What on earth does he teach?"

"He's a games teacher."

"Makes sense." he snorted derisively "Did your brothers live with you when your wife was alive?"

"Pearce did." Adam confirmed "He owns a third of the house, Molly and I... I own two thirds. Anthony only moved in recently."

"Anthony?" his father clarified, perhaps not having heard him the first time he was mentioned "You're kidding? That one that whore ran off with?"

"If you mean the one your ex-wife was given legal custody off, then yes."

"Well, I'll be damned." he mused, sipping his coffee "So, what's he on?"

"Pardon?"

"That one's always been messed up in the head, I knew he'd end up on drugs of some kind." Harry admitted casually "So what was it? Crack? LSD? Meth?"

"Anthony's not on any drugs." Adam defended "I'll have you know he's doing very well, actually – he's going to university, and up until recently he was engaged to be married."

"So how'd he screw that up?"

Adam stood suddenly, startling his father, and taking the now mostly empty mug back from him.

"This isn't going to work." he realised "You should leave."

"What? Come on now!" Harry protested, getting to his feet "I came all the way here to see my grandson, to see my sons after all this time!"

"Do you have any idea how hard we worked," Adam growled at him "To get Anthony back? To get him to trust us again? To fix the damage and finally be brothers? It's clear to me that you haven't changed where Anthony is concerned, and I'm not willing to let you put everything you've worked for in jeopardy."

"So that's it?" Harry scowled "You're taking his side? Again?"

"Looks like it." Adam sighed "You remember where the garage is?"

Luckily, Harry hadn't been invited to stay, and judging by the single, mostly empty bag in the back seat of his car, he hadn't planned on being here long. Adam watched the old man struggle with the ignition for five minutes before either would admit there was something wrong with the rental car. Wanting him gone as soon as possible, Adam instructed him to pop the bonnet so he could get a look at the engine. It was a clapped out piece of crap, but he figured he could get it working well enough to get Harry to the next garage. Said Harry continued to fume in the front seat as Adam poked around.

"You could have at least let me stay to see Paul." he sulked "That's the whole reason I came all this way."

"If you can't be trusted with your own son, what the hell makes you think I'm letting you near mine?"

"This was your idea."

"This was Mollys idea, and she's not around so I can tell her 'I told you so.'"

"I'm sure your mother is telling her."

"I have no doubt."

Harry grumbled to himself, inaudible over the sound of the engine stopping and starting. Adam noticed him looking up and behind him, to the doorway that lead back into the house. Looking back briefly, Adam noticed Anthony loitering there, eyes still glazed from the medicine Pearce had slipped him, dark bags under the eyes of this otherwise pale face. His expression was unreadable, thanks to the pills – did he even know what was going on? He and Harry hadn't been in the same room for... how long now? Almost ten years? In the car, Harry harrumphed.

"Not on drugs, eh?"

"Shut up, he's just not well." Adam defended again "Hey buddy, will you go get me that wrench? I think I see the problem."

Anthonys eyes sparked like he realised he was being spoken to, but it seemed to take a moment to reach his brain. Adam was definitely going to lecture Pearce about those pills. He was feeling better now, so the doctor didn't need to keep giving them to the boy. Anthony shuffled over the concrete floor off the garage slowly, edging toward the big red tool box. At least he wasn't completely away with the faeries. Having opened the correct drawer, however, he proceeded just to stare at it.

"Oh, for goodness sake." Harry exasperated, throwing open the car door "I'll get it."

He marched over to Anthony, almost pushing him out of the way as he retrieved the wrench.

"Nice to know you're as useless as you ever were." he spat.

He marched back over to Adam to hand him the wrench.

"I don't care what you say." he told him "I know I-"

His eyes went blank, pupils suddenly fixed. Adam jolted, especially as Harrys mouth dropped and he started to fall. Adam jumped forward to catch him, but with the bonnet of the car between them he only managed to grab his shoulders. What the hell had just happened?!

"Oi!" he called "What's wrong? What happened?!"

As he struggled with his fathers weight, his head lolled forward loosely on his shoulders, revealing the back of his skull. Adams throat caught, his spine going cold – the back of Harrys head was covered in blood and... dented. Speechless, he looked up at Anthony: his eyes were still glazed like he was sleep walking, but his expression was angry, bitter, furious, and clasped in both hands was the big spanner, silver metal shining red.

Oh my god, oh my god! Adam started to panic, dropping Harry to the ground quickly and checking his pulse – it was very weak, very erratic. He bolted for the house phone, immediately dialling Pearce. Had he given it a moments more thought, he wouldn't have left the two of them alone. He realised his mistake in seconds, but by then it was already too late. He grabbed the spanner from Anthony, throwing it across the garage and wrestling his now screaming brother to the ground. There was no point in checking on Harry – the back of his skull was gone. '

Francis stared at the words on the screen. The pieces clicked into place, but he didn't want to accept the picture they created. This wasn't some story... he had only read it in bits and pieces, so he didn't see it before, but after this... no, there was no way. Was this Arthurs memory trying to surface? That wasn't possible...was it? It couldn't be...

Francis jumped out of bed, quickly pulling on his clothes and tying back his hair. He had to know. He had to know! He poked his head in Matthews room quickly, as it was the only one with the lights still on (he was on his computer, Alfred asleep on his bed), telling him to take care of Michelle while he was out. He left no room for debate, marching down the stairs and out the front door.

He had to know...

So, a lot of things were revealed in this chapter - where Michelles mother is, how Arthur's really feeling about everything... oh yes, and the fact that he my have been the one to kill his father (if you didn't pick up on that, read it again!).

There are two, possibly three chapters left now, depending on where I feel like ending it - by which I mean with the actual ending or with the epilogue. We'll just have to see, but there's still lots to wrap up before we get there...

All reviews welcome, as always.