A/N: Finally! Chapter 39 is here! I'm sorry for the wait. Y'all have no idea how many problems this one gave me.

Thanks for all the reviews, favs, and follows since the last chapter. Please leave a review for this one as well, especially since there are a lot of OCs here. Also, I am open to chapter title ideas for 39/40, so please send those if you can think of one better than "Uncertain Outcomes."

Uncertain Outcomes: Part 1

After a fortnight off work, it was back to the daily grind for Arthur. His demeanor at work gradually changed over the last weeks of the year. He was less strict and formal than he had been during the first several months of being department head. Now, at the start of the year, he was laidback and friendly, chatting with colleagues again and allowing department meetings to be more relaxed, all the while maintaining an air of authority.

This positive change did not go unnoticed by those who worked with him. In previous months, it was well-known that Mr. Weasley, as his subordinates called him, was not one to cross. But as the week progressed, they became more comfortable around him. Perkins even commented on how nice it was to see Arthur back to his old self. All in all, the department had become a much more pleasant place to work.

During the Monday department meeting the second week Arthur was back, someone knocked on the conference room door. When Arthur called for the person to enter, Ian stuck his head in.

"Arthur, I need to talk to you."

"I'm in the middle of a meeting. Can it not wait?" Arthur sternly asked. Even though he was in a much better mood, he still did not appreciate interruptions such as this. He had a department to run and respect to command, after all. If he let people - even his own brother - come in and interrupt, his underlings may take advantage of his lighter, softer personality.

"It's important."

"Fine. Wait outside, and I'll come talk to you in a few minutes." He looked back down at the folder in front of him.

Ian hesitated. "Arthur…it's Gramps."

Arthur's head snapped up.

"We need to go."

Arthur swallowed hard before looking to the man sitting to his right. "Perkins –"

"Go ahead. I'll finish up."

As soon as the door closed behind him, Arthur asked his younger brother, "What happened?"

"They got a lot of snow last night. Part of the roof on the barn caved in. Gramps went to repair it without using magic. Desmond and I went over for lunch, and when Desmond went to get Gramps, that's when we found him. He must have slipped. No one knows how long he was out there," Ian explained as they walked briskly through the Ministry. "It could've been minutes or it could've been hours."

Damn it! Arthur warned Gramps months ago that something might happen if he didn't start using magic to help out. Yes, Gramps was still a strong, healthy, able-bodied man, but he was no spring chicken. And it wasn't as if Gramps couldn't use magic; Arthur saw him use it on a daily basis, just not with farm work.

A knot formed in his stomach as a thought occurred to him: He and Gramps never got around to fixing the leak in the roof. What if that's what caused it to collapse? Gramps should have never been on that roof by himself. And it would have been Arthur's fault if the leak weakened the roof, because he had insisted Gramps not repair it without him, but he'd busied himself with work and then gotten swept away when Molly decided to give him another chance. He made time to help with chores, but repairing a hole the size of a Snitch would take much more time. They could have taken some time to fix it while building the extension, but it had slipped both of their minds.

"Where did it collapse?" Arthur asked.

"Somewhere near the front." Arthur gulped. The leak was near the front. "It's not massive. A few feet in diameter."

"Will he be okay?" Arthur asked.

Ian sighed, "Don't know yet."

Not much later, the two brothers walked into the St. Mungo's waiting area. It was easy to spot the crowd of redheads in the far corner – Well, all redheads except a bald wizard, a grey-haired wizard, and a grey-haired witch, who were Gramps's brothers and Gran. The sea of redheads contained Arthur's other four brothers and Gran and Gramps's five remaining sons.

Arthur and his brothers were the only grandchildren there, but that wasn't unusual with how their grandparents viewed them compared to their cousins. Arthur noticed another distinction as they got closer: his grandparents' true sons sat nearest Gran while his brothers existed on the edges. But that wasn't unusual either. Even though his grandparents viewed him and his brothers as sons of their own, the younger generation would always come in second to their uncles.

It also didn't slip his notice that he and Ian were the last to arrive. Though, he wasn't sure why or if there was even any particular reason for it.

"Hey, Gran," Arthur whispered as he leaned over and hugged her. She wrapped her arms around him snugly, handkerchief in hand. For a second, he thought about asking how she was, but decided against it because he already knew the answer he would receive. Besides, she had probably already been asked that plenty and he knew how it felt to be asked how you were over and over again when you felt like the world was falling down around you. Instead, he asked, "Do you know how he is?"

"They haven't given us any definite answers…but it doesn't look good."

Arthur's heart skipped a beat.

Alexander came up behind Arthur and Ian in his green Healer's robes. He squeezed Arthur's shoulder.

"Um…" Arthur dragged the word out, unable to comprehend his feelings. He blinked. "Okay." Without another word, he numbly wandered over to a seat in the corner a little ways away from anyone else.

Gran watched Arthur for a moment before turning to Alexander and Ian. "Keep an eye on your brother."

"Of course."

Alexander and Ian stepped away from their family and glanced back at Arthur, who was staring blankly ahead of him.

"Should we get Molly?" Ian asked his eldest brother.

"I'll send her an express owl on my way back up," Alexander said. "I have to get back to work, but I'll check in whenever I can."

Ian went to sit beside Arthur as Alexander bid Gran farewell.

Neither Arthur nor Ian spoke for some time.

"Are you okay?" Ian finally asked.

"'M fine," Arthur mumbled.

Silence fell over them once again.

Light conversations began and ended between some of their brothers and uncles. Magazine pages rustled every few minutes. A few Weasley wives arrived. (Molly still hadn't shown up, but Ian didn't tell Arthur they contacted her.) For once, Trenton wasn't making inappropriate jokes. Desmond was also unusually reserved; when Paulene got there, he clung to her hand but remained silent. Alexander came and went.

There was still no word on Gramps.

Arthur spoke for the first time in hours. "Why was I the last one here?"

Ian looked up from his Quidditch magazine. "What?"

"Was no one going to tell me?"

"That's ludicrous. Uncle Stuart, Desmond, and I were at their house, Alexander was here, and we sent emergency owls to everyone else. Gran just thought it would be better if someone got you."

"Why's that?"

Ian shrugged. "She was worried you wouldn't take the news well."

Arthur scoffed. "That doesn't mean I'm going to run off and get drunk. I don't need a babysitter."

"She's just watching out for you," Ian said as Trenton came over. "Do you need to go to a meeting tonight?"

"Damn, I'd hate to work in your department," Trenton said. "Meetings after the workday? I can barely tolerate the ones I have now."

"Not those types of meetings, you dolt," Ian said. "He's going to the cou-" He stopped short when he noticed Arthur glaring at him. Even though just about everyone knew he had a drinking problem, Ian was the only brother who knew he went to meetings for it, and Arthur wanted to keep it that way.

Trenton looked between his younger brothers quizzically before shrugging it off. "Neil and I are going to grab dinner for everyone. Do you want anything?"

"Yeah, whatever's easiest," Ian said.

"I'm fine, thanks," Arthur said.

Before Trenton could walk away, Ian told him, "He'll have something, too."

He turned back to Arthur. "So?"

"I'm staying here."

Silence returned once again.

Right after Trenton and Neil left, the family was shown to a private waiting room since there were so many of them and they had been there all day. Arthur found a chair in an isolated corner of the room.

When Trenton and Neil returned with the takeaway, Arthur begrudgingly forced down a few bites to satisfy Gran, Ian, and Alexander, who had managed to get off work an hour early. No one else seemed to care if he ate or not, but they didn't really have a reason to. Gran was concerned because she knew everything that had gone on with him in the past, especially recently. Alexander and Ian only cared because Gran had voiced her concern to them.

A Healer tapped on the door as he stepped over the threshold. Everyone's heads snapped up. Half of them stood.

"Mrs. Weasley?" he asked.

Gran stepped forward. Her eldest son, Stuart, followed suit and rested a hand on her shoulder.

"Your husband sustained some serious injuries. We were able to mend several broken bones as well as two cracked vertebrae – We won't know if there has been nerve damage until he wakes up, though. He also suffered some internal bleeding. And we put him into a magically-induced coma due to severe swelling of the brain. In a few days, we will see about bringing him out of it, but the longer it takes him to wake up, the less likely it is that he'll make a full recovery. The next forty-eight hours are the most critical."

"Can I see him?" Gran whispered.

The Healer sighed, his lips pressed in a thin line. After some thought, his expression softened. "With the condition he is in, he shouldn't have visitors, but…I'll give you five minutes."

"Can someone go with her?" Stuart asked quietly.

The Healer hesitated again. He glanced back at Gran. "One other person. Five minutes. And you have to be very quiet."

"Thank you," Gran said.

"Alright," the Healer began again, speaking to the room as a whole. "Now, I suggest you all go home and get some rest. You have a few rough days ahead of you. However, I know I can't make you go home, so if you wish to stay, you may continue to use this room."

After the Healer led Gran and Stuart from the room, everyone who had stood returned to their seats. This time, the silence that fell covered the entire room, not just a corner.

Arthur put his head in his hands and let out a shaky breath. If something happened to Gramps…he didn't know what he'd do. Without fail, Gramps was always there. Throughout his entire life, he could always count on Gramps. Costin Weasley was everything Arthur thought a father should be. Where Septimus failed in every aspect, Gramps prevailed. Arthur – his brothers – they wouldn't be losing a grandfather; they would be losing a father.

Thoughts continued to race through Arthur's head, blocking out any murmurs in the room and Gran and Stuart's return.

He rubbed his face and suddenly stood. As he crossed the room, Gran managed to catch his attention.

"Arthur, where are you going?"

He blinked at her. He opened his mouth before closing it again. He swallowed. "I…I'm leaving."

"I'd like it if you'd sit with me," Gran said, discretely nudging Stuart beside her. He moved to an empty seat.

Arthur's eyes darted from Gran to the open door. He would do anything for her, but he needed to get out of there. He didn't know where he would go or what he would do. He just needed to leave.

"I'm sorry, Gran, but I ought to go."

Head down, he continued on his way. He had barely made it to the threshold when someone coming into the room bumped into him. He grabbed her shoulders to steady her.

Molly looked up at him. "Arthur," she breathed. "I'm sorry. I only just got the owl. I was running errands all day and went to dinner with Andromeda since you were going to –"

But she didn't get to finish. Arthur wrapped his arms around her like his life depended on it. "I'm just glad you're here now," he croaked into her hair.

When he let go, she asked, "Were you going somewhere?"

Scratching the back of his head, he glanced at Gran. "I-I was…going to get Gran some tea."

A few minutes later, Arthur and Molly were in the visitor's tearoom and he had filled her in on what happened and what the Healer said.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

Not looking up from stirring sugar into a cup of tea, he shrugged and said, "I'm fine."

"Arthur," she said, placing her hand on top of his. He stopped stirring, but continued staring at the swirling liquid. "Don't shut me out again."

He closed his eyes and let out a long, slow breath. When he opened them again, they stung with unshed tears. After rapidly blinking them away, he looked over at her. "I can't lose him," he choked.

"You may not have to yet," she assured. "You need to think positively. But you also need to acknowledge that your grandparents are getting up there in age and you will have to face that eventually."

"I can't go through that again, not right now. For Merlin's sake, we just lost our son."

"I know." She reached up and ran a hand through his hair before cupping his cheek. "It's not fair."

"I know I've never shown it, but I couldn't have done any of this without you," Arthur confessed. He kissed the palm of her hand then took it in both of his.

"I haven't done anything. I know I should have been there for you, but - Look, your grandparents, they're the ones you need to thank."

"I don't mean the past few months. Everything since I was a teenager, it would have been impossible without you."

"You're giving me too much credit. You would have been fine."

"No." Arthur shook his head. "I've had a lot of time to reflect and to think about things the past couple months. Things like how much you've done for me - how my life could have been if you hadn't married me - what it would be like if you didn't forgive me and we couldn't make this work again. You have no idea how much I need you - how much I rely on you…how much I always have. I can't live this life without you."

"I'm not going anywhere." Molly reassured, planting a chaste kiss on his lips.

oOoOo

The hours wore on. The private waiting room remained full of Weasleys, everyone having had refused to leave. There was no more news on Gramps's condition, though no one expected there to be.

In the early hours of the morning, Arthur jolted awake in the hard chair, trying to catch his breath. What he had thought to be heartburn until recently told otherwise stung his chest. Molly, who was curled up against him, raised her head in a state of drowsy disorientation.

"I'm sorry, love," Arthur murmured. He smoothed her hair and kissed the top of her head. He tried to discretely pull his shirt away from his chest and quickly inspect the scars. Sure enough, they were brighter than usual. "Everything's fine. Go back to sleep."

He rested his head against the wall behind him as she snuggled closer to him. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. When he opened them again, he noticed Alexander eyeing him with concern.

"It's nothing," he whispered.

Alexander did not look convinced. "Arthur, if you need to see me sooner –"

Arthur cast Muffliato so as not to disturb their relatives in various stages of sleep or to be overheard by the few who were awake.

"I know, but remember, you're not supposed to get involved outside of my appointments. Do not pry."

"I'm not. But if something has changed or worsened, you need to tell me."

"It really was nothing. It's just…a normal nightmare."

"Why don't I check you over? Take this opportunity to gather more information," Alexander suggested.

"No."

"Well, when are you going to take a few days to stay in the Cyprian Youdle Ward?"

"When I have time."

"You need to make time."

"I can't. I'm still playing catch-up at work. And this –" He looked around the room. "– isn't helping any."

"Maybe you should take a sabbatical. You're friends with the Minister, aren't you? He could fast-track it, and I'm sure he would understand the importance of it once you explained your situation."

"I can't aff-" Arthur stopped short. He could, financially, afford a month-long sabbatical. That was the first time in his career that he was making enough money to take a sabbatical. There was still a problem, though: he had already missed too much work since taking on this new position. And he was not going to take advantage of his friendship with Kingsley. If Fudge or Scrimgeour was Minister, he wouldn't walk into their office and ask for paperwork for a sabbatical to be expedited. Besides, Kingsley had already cut him a big break after the incident at the Hog's Head and, then, at Percy's wedding. "I can't take a sabbatical," he rephrased.

"At least tell me you're taking care of yourself – well, except for stressing over work," Alexander said.

"I am."

oOoOo

Over the next two days, no one left, except for two or three people to get food for everyone or to take care of the animals at Gran and Gramps's house. No matter how strongly someone argued with Gran that she needed to sleep in a bed, no one made any progress.

Finally, about forty-eight hours after the prognosis, the Healer returned. He rapped lightly on the door as he stepped over the threshold. The occupants of the private waiting room looked up at him expectantly, a few standing.

"Mrs. Weasley," he directed at Gran, but the others listened keenly as well, "there has been no change in your husband's condition, which is actually a good thing for now, because it means there has been no more swelling. It will take a few days for it to go down, though. We will continue to monitor it, and when it has gone down enough, we will bring him out of the magically-induced coma. And, as I said before, his chances of a full recovery rely heavily on how soon he wakes up. For now, you, your children, and any siblings are allowed to see him, but keep it to two visitors at a time."

"What about my grandsons?" Gran asked.

"I'm sorry, only your children can go in, not grandchildren."

"They're as good as my own children," Gran argued. The younger generation shared stunned but meaningful glances with one another before looking back at their grandmother. Of course, they knew they held a special position, but nothing had ever been said outright like that, except when Gramps talked with Arthur not too long ago. "My husband and I practically raised them."

"I am sorry, but it's hospital policy for situations like this. If you only had one or two grandsons, I could bend the rules, but –" The Healer shook his head.

"So if I had twelve sons, you would only allow half of them in?"

The Healer sighed. "I would strongly advise that only six or seven people go back in total. Mrs. Weasley, I don't doubt you have a very strong relationship with your grandsons, but please understand this is in the patient's best interest. At this point in time, having too many visitors could hinder the recovery process."

Hearing that, Gran deflated.

"Your grandsons will be able to see him in another three or four days."

Arthur's heart jumped into his throat. The Healer hadn't given them any particularly good news and it would still be a while before he could see Gramps. What if something happened in that time? He'd hoped Gran would have been able to convince him, but no; she had put up a good fight, considering the state she was in. Once again, it was proven that he and his brothers were not equal to their uncles, but second to them, no matter what was said. Instead of returning to his seat, Arthur leaned against a vacant section of wall and stuffed his hands in his pockets; Molly stood beside him and soothingly ran her hand along his arm.

The Healer left them. Instead of leaving as well, Gran sank back into her chair.

"Mum?" Stuart asked, placing a hand on her back.

Gran ignored Stuart and looked distractedly at Gramps's brothers. "You two can go ahead," she told them.

"Are you sure, Irene? We can wait."

"I'm sure." As her brothers-in-law exited the room, she told her sons, "I need some time with your nephews. Will you –" But she didn't have to finish, her sons and daughters-in-law vacated the room. When Margaret, Molly, and Paulene (Ian's wife, Elaine, was at home watching their youngest and Desmond and Paulene's daughters) made to leave as well, she told them they could stay. They reclaimed their spots next to their respective husbands.

For the next few minutes, Gran twisted the handkerchief in her hands. It was a mystery what she was thinking or why she hadn't gone straight to Gramps. Finally, she turned to her grandsons and spoke.

"I'm sorry. I know how much you boys must want to see him."

"It's okay, Gran. We understand," Alexander spoke up. But only Neil made any sign of agreement.

"There's something we never told any of you – We should have – We really should have." She looked around at her grandsons. "You really are like sons to us, your grandfather and me. And I feel like we never did enough for you all. You deserved more. You deserved better, much better. You never should have come in second to anyone or anything. You should have been able to experience what it felt like to be the most important thing in someone's life – Not that that's not true now," she added with a meaningful glance at the present wives. "You were all dealt a terrible hand in life, and we feel like it was ultimately our fault. There are so many things I wish we would have done differently."

There was a knock at the door. One of Gramps's brothers poked his head in. "Oh, I'm sorry. We wanted to let you know that you can go in when you're ready," he told Gran before making himself scarce.

"I just want you to know how much you all mean to us," Gran continued, "and how proud we are of you, and how much we love you."

With a small smile, Gran left her grandsons to digest what she said. No one said a word. None of the brothers looked at one another. Gran must have told their aunts and uncles to give them a few more minutes on her way to Gramps because none of them came back yet.

Everyone's attention turned to Trenton as he stood abruptly and said, "That's a load of Hippogriff shite." He looked down at Neil, who was sitting beside him. "Come on, Neil."

"I'm gonna stay here a while," Neil said, not moving from his seat.

Trenton looked to Arthur, who still leaned against the wall. "Arthur?"

He straightened up. Molly's grip tightened on his forearm. "No," he told Trenton.

Ian stood. "I'll go with you."

Trenton narrowed his eyes at his other brothers. "You actually believe what she said?" he scoffed. "Come on, how hard would it have been to put us first for a change? All their kids were grown by the time we were born, and we were the youngest grandkids. They could have done more if they wanted. Everything Gran just said was a-a-a load of – of –"

"- Hippogriff shite?" Arthur supplied, stepping away from the wall, and Molly.

"Yeah."

Without warning, Arthur grabbed Trenton's shirtfront and slammed him hard against the wall, causing everyone else to jump out of their seats, especially Neil who had been in danger of being squashed. Trenton's eyes went wide for a split second, and the seat of the chair dug into the backs of his legs. Molly made to approach Arthur, but Alexander put an arm out to stop her.

"Arthur!" Alexander barked

"Arthur?" Neil echoed uncertainly.

But Arthur ignored them. "Say that again," he growled in Trenton's face.

Trenton glared at his younger brother. "She didn't mean a fucking word."

"They have done more for us than anyone ever has," Arthur said, his voice rising with every word. "Even now." Arthur let go with his right hand, but did not let his grip loosen with the other. "Remind me, who let you live with them after you dropped out of school and had no job and no place to live because you were too afraid to go home and face Septimus?" He paused for a second, but didn't let Trenton answer. "Now, say that one more time," he dared, fist raised at his side and face hot with rage.

"We never meant as much to them as they make out."

Arthur reared back, but mere inches away from Trenton's face, something stopped him. He jerked his head around to see Desmond holding his upper arm. He looked back at Trenton, who had a cocky smirk on his face. Arthur shoved him against the wall one more time before letting go and yanking his arm free from his youngest brother as he stepped back. Molly came to stand near him on his left and slipped her hand into his. He looked down at their hands and took a deep breath.

Trenton stepped away from the chair. The previously smooth sheetrock behind him was now cracked. "Do you know how many times I begged Gran and Gramps to let me live with them growing up? They knew exactly what was going on in that godforsaken house, and they just left us there! They were never there when it really counted."

"What are you talking about?" Arthur asked, aghast. "We were the only grandkids who had permanent bedrooms at their house we were there so much. And if they let you live with them, they would have had to let all of us live with them."

"That's what they should've done!" Trenton argued.

"There was nothing I wanted more than to live with them permanently, but Mum sure as hell didn't deserve that. How would you feel if someone took away your kids?"

"I never beat me kids or my wife. I'm not Septimus. In this room, the person who most closely resembles Septimus, is you," Trenton spat.

Arthur glared daggers at his older brother, his teeth clenched. Molly squeezed his hand.

"I may blackout, but, come on, I don't forget everything when I drink, like Halloween."

"Trent," Arthur quietly warned.

"Oh, right, no one else knows about this. Everyone had already left and Gran and Gramps had gone to bed when you –"

"– Trent –"

"– got pissed and told me why, exactly, Molly left you." The surprise at the last part must have crossed Arthur's face because Trenton added, "Or is that something you don't remember?" as their aunts and uncles began to reenter the room. Trenton was right; he didn't remember that. He only wanted to keep Trenton from spilling the secret that he'd gotten drunk on Halloween (two weeks after he'd been telling everyone that he'd quit drinking). Everything after that was a complete blank. That he had told him the reasons for the separation was especially a shock because, while he'd confided in Trenton in the past, this was something he didn't want anyone who didn't already know to find out. "Which reminds me, do you know what happened after you told me about abusing your wife?" Trenton asked.

Arthur gulped. He didn't know, but he didn't want to find out.

"We went outside so you could blow off steam. That's how a Snitch-sized hole ended up in the roof of the barn." A flash of blue light in a dark field flitted through Arthur's mind. "Where did the roof cave in, Desmond?"

"The side opposite the house, near the front."

"Which, if memory serves, is where a rock –" A small rock flew through the air toward the barn "– and, consequently, a leak ended up."

"No," Arthur whimpered while everyone else stood in stunned silence. Bile rose in his throat.

"Trent, you're forgetting something," Neil spoke up. "I was there, too."

"So?"

"Unlike you, I actually remember what happened," he said evenly. "Arthur, it wasn't you. It was a rock that Trent sent flying."

That didn't make Arthur feel any better. Even though it was not directly caused by him, it never would have happened if he hadn't gotten drunk that night, and, thus, they would not be where they were now. This new information must have thrown Trenton for a loop as well because he opened and closed his mouth several times without saying anything until renewing his attack on Arthur in an attempt to take the attention off himself.

"Well, I'm still not like our father. Arthur destroyed the Hog's Head, for Merlin's sake; I know you remember that," he directed at Arthur, "what with it being all over the front page. And how could anyone forget the scuffle you got into at your son's wedding - well, fine, I forgot, but I was told what happened."

Arthur had no idea where any of this was coming from. What had started out as a strong disagreement about their grandparents quickly turned into Trenton personally attacking him – Well, he had to admit shoving Trenton against the wall may not have been the best way to handle things. Nothing like this had ever happened before; they were closer with each other than any of their other brothers. Arthur and Trenton had gotten upset with each other in the past, sure, but it had never gone this far.

Breathing heavily with renewed rage, Arthur tried letting go of Molly's hand as he stepped forward, but she only held on tighter. At the same time, Desmond stepped between his older brothers and put a hand on Arthur's chest, his jaw set. Arthur's eyes flitted to Desmond before returning to Trenton.

Instead of continuing his advance, he said, "I'm sober now."

"You keep saying that, but you're not. You are not sober, Arthur. You're a dry drunk," Trenton said with disgust.

"And what would you know about either of those? This – the past two days - is probably the longest you've gone without a drink in decades."

Trenton ignored his brother's comment. "You've been biting all of our heads off for months, you bum cigarettes off me every time you see me - and I'm sure I'm not the only one –" Neil made a face that indicated Trenton was correct in his assumption. "– and you run the unhappiest department in the Ministry; everyone who has anything to do with that department loves it when you miss work. It's miserable to be around you. You know, I'm surprised Molly's even here. I'd've thought it would have taken a miracle for your two to get back together - That, or you're dying."

Arthur blanched. Molly made an indistinct noise beside him. He glanced over at her out of the corner of his eye, took a deep breath, and rubbed his thumb over hers before staring at Trenton again.

"Get out of my sight," he commanded through gritted teeth.

Trenton angrily straightened his clothes before storming out.

Arthur looked at Ian. "Do you honestly think he's right?"

"I-I - don't - know. They could've taken us in after Mum died," Ian said in reference to himself, Arthur, Neil, and Desmond. He ducked his head and left, pushing his way through those standing at the door.

Arthur wrapped Molly in his arms and kissed the top of her head. "I'm sorry," he mumbled into her hair.

A dull pain grew in his chest, and he suddenly became lightheaded. He sat down heavily in a chair, resting his elbows on his knees and holding his head in his hands. The scars on his neck and chest became uncomfortably warm.

"A-Arthur?" Neil stuttered, sounding much like he did when he was a small, scared child.

Still leaning forward, Arthur casually ran a hand through his hair and let it rest on the side of his neck as he looked up, covering the scars that were impossible to hide without a scarf. He felt his heart beating irregularly. Glancing at Alexander, he noticed his eldest brother watching him with extreme apprehension; he didn't even have to see Molly to know she looked much the same way. Most everyone's eyes were on him. Perhaps, he looked worse than he felt.

"No," he huffed in response to Neil's unasked question, knowing that it be something along the lines of "Are you dying?" Technically, he was - well, if he was being technical, everyone was, but he knew that's not what Neil meant - but if the Healers were correct, it wouldn't be for a very long time, so why did it matter what he told his brothers now?

A wave of nausea washed over him. He stood abruptly while scratching his neck so his hand had a reason to stay there. After a few steps, stars dazzling before his eyes forced him to stop. He stumbled backward. Just as his legs gave way, one of his uncles caught him. Alexander, who had been close behind Arthur, helped lie him down.

A minute later, Arthur came to, Molly and Alexander kneeling on either side of him.

"Trash can," he immediately said, raising up on an elbow.

"What?"

"Trash can," he choked out.

Someone quickly passed them the small waste basket from beside the door just in time for Arthur to vomit into it.

When he finished, Arthur wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sat up fully. He propped his arm on his knee, partially shielding his discolored scars with his shoulder.

"Will you let me check you over now?" Alexander hissed so only Arthur and Molly could hear.

"No –"

"Let him, Arthur," Molly said, reaching to pull his shirt collar down. Arthur swatted her hand away.

"No. I'm tired and stressed and I stood up too fast. That's all," he snapped.

With some assistance, Arthur got to his feet. Rubbing at the scars - this time more out of discomfort than trying to conceal them – he bolted for the men's toilets. He rinsed his mouth out and washed his hands before splashing cool water on his face.

A stall door banged shut.

"Oh – Arthur," Ian said, stopping short. "I-I decided not to go with Trent. But I am going home."

"Fine. Go.," Arthur shot, still bent over the sink, water dripping from his face. He groped for a paper towel.

"It's not that I don't care, I –"

"Just go."

Without another word, Ian obeyed.

Carelessly patting his face with the rough paper towel, Arthur waved his wand at the door. The lock clicked. He turned around, leaned against the counter, and took a deep breath. His chest still ached. In vain, he tried to ease the pain by clutching his shirt over his chest.

The lock clicked again, and the door cracked open.

"I thought I locked that," Arthur said, quickly moving his hand from his chest to his neck.

"You did," Alexander replied. He eyed the hand covering Arthur's scars. "I've already seen them."

Knowing there was no longer any point in attempting to hide the obvious, Arthur removed his hand, but did not give Alexander his full attention. Instead, he focused on the Herringbone pattern the floor tiles created in various shades of grey.

"If you changed your mind about wanting me as your Healer, you can tell me," his eldest brother went on casually.

"What?" Arthur's head snapped up. "No - I trust you with that more than anyone else."

"Then why won't you let me do anything?"

"I don't want to waste your time, because there is nothing to be done."

"Arthur, I would drop everything to help you, even if it was for nothing."

"You wouldn't if I was any other patient - And any other Healer wouldn't do that for me."

"That's a perk of having me as your Healer, I suppose."

"We had an agreement that I would be like any other patient – that you would separate work and family. You wouldn't overstep your bounds," Arthur reminded him. "Because if you hadn't been at the hospital with me and if you didn't specialize in this, you wouldn't even know. You would be just as in the dark as everyone else."

"I know," Alexander sighed. "But I don't think I can stand on the sidelines when something is happening right in front of me. I fear it may be more difficult to keep our agreement than I originally thought. I just hope that doesn't change your mind about wanting me as your Healer, because I want to be."

"Alright, fine," Arthur conceded. "You can check on me, but if I say I'm fine, you have to leave it at that. What just happened, though, was completely unrelated," he lied.

Alexander stepped closer and looked him in the eye. "What's going on, Art?" he asked softly.

Arthur broke his gaze. His brother calling him "Art" caught him off guard. "Art" had been a childhood nickname only his three older brothers called him when he seemed upset, or when they were the bearers of bad news, or when they were trying to console him for whatever reason. There were never any positive memories that he could think of to associate the name with. Needless to say, it did not make him feel any better now.

When he didn't answer, Alexander said, "You've done a complete one-eighty in the past month. You did not take the news well at all when we gave you the diagnosis, even when we gave you the best case scenario, and now, it seems like you don't even care. Are you in denial? Is that why you are acting this way? Because it is perfectly normal to go through a period of denial in a situation like yours, but you aren't doing yourself any favors. If something has changed, you need to tell me."

"I hear you. And I'll see you, as my Healer," Arthur enunciated, "at my appointment next month."

Alexander frowned. Arthur turned around to face the mirror. As he was about to open the door, Alexander turned around.

"One more thing," Alexander said. Arthur looked at him in the mirror. "I think you should tell our brothers. You know how hard it hit all of us when we suddenly lost Bilius - I'm not saying that's going to happen to you," he added hastily. "But since we know virtually nothing about this curse, it would probably be better if you told them, in case something does happen. It's just something to think about." With that, he left.

Arthur braced himself on the cool, ceramic countertop and stared down into the sink. When Bilius died, it had hit them hard. It was one of the hardest times in Arthur's life. Even though he stopped going to the bar with Bilius and Trenton all the time when Percy was born, the three of them were still better than best friends. And since all seven brothers shared a close bond forged in an unfortunate home life, he knew none of the others had taken this unexpected death well either. Seven years later and Bilius's absence was still felt keenly among them. Arthur could never intentionally do that to his brothers...but he couldn't bear telling them about his situation, and if Alexander managed to treat it, then he would have needlessly worried them; he had already seen Neil upset in regard to his health on more than one occasion recently, and even though Ian seemed to accept his answer of "I'm fine" on his first morning at their grandparents' house, he could tell Ian was more concerned than he let on. Which would be worse: agonizing over something that might not happen for years or decades, or being unprepared for another death? Besides, he was already getting rather annoyed with Molly, Alexander, and his grandparents always fretting over him; he would probably explode if even more people started doing that as well.

Arthur shook those thoughts from his head. He didn't have to decide just yet, and he already had enough to worry about right now.

The door swung open again. Arthur glanced behind him to see Molly enter.

"M-Molly - What - What are - This is the men's room," he spluttered, fully facing her.

"I know, but no one is in here and I've locked the door." She cupped his cheeks with her hands and looked searchingly into his eyes for a moment before asking, "Why won't you let Alexander make sure nothing is wrong? This is the third time I'm aware of that something like this has happened."

Arthur stepped back. Molly's hands slid off his face. "I'm done discussing this," he said evenly.

"No, you're not - because you haven't discussed it with me at all."

Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Do you not care what happens to you?" Molly asked, brow furrowed.

"Of course I do."

"Well, it wasn't long ago that you didn't, and apparently that's not the first time. I just - I need you to tell me if you feel that way again."

"Okay, I will. But I'm happy right now. I'm enjoying my job. I have my family back. I have my life back." He took her hands in his and looked into her beautiful, brown eyes. "I have you."

"Well, why won't you let Alex-"

"Because there's no reason for it," he interrupted calmly. "It can wait a month."

"You don't know that," she said, voice quavering slightly. Her grip tightened on his hands.

"Yes, I do. I can tell when it's the curse," he told her. And, yes, he could tell when the curse became active, but he wasn't going to openly admit that that's what had been going on. "Now, can we please be done with this? I don't feel like talking anymore."

"Can you tell me one more thing?"

"What's that?" Arthur asked. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, bracing himself for the inevitable question about Halloween.

"Why did you lie, not only to me but to everyone, about when you stopped drinking?"

"I did stop after Percy's wedding, and Halloween was the only time since then," he answered honestly.

"But why?"

A long moment passed before Arthur answered. "I was weak," he quietly admitted with a miniscule shrug. "You know how family gatherings are at my grandparents'. They kept the drinking confined to the basement for the most part, but it was still too much for me. That time, I didn't spiral, but I didn't help myself any either. I just made it that much harder for me to quit."

"You've been lying this whole time. I thought I could trust you again."

He made sure to look her in the eye. "You can," he reassured. "I'm not going to try justifying my dishonesty, but will you let me explain?"

When Molly didn't say anything either way, he took that as her permission. If she didn't want to hear it, she would have said so.

"I was ashamed of myself. I had already let everyone down so many times. I thought maybe it would be better if no one knew. And I've not only been lying to everyone around me, but I've been lying to myself as well. I thought if I pretended it didn't happen, then it didn't. It was one night. It was one little mistake. I thought…if you saw – if anyone saw that I could pick up a drink again after what I did at Percy's wedding –" He broke eye contact and decided to look at the floor instead. "– then you'd all believe I was hopeless."

"Oh, love," Molly breathed. She lifted his chin with her forefinger so he was forced to look into her eyes again. "I don't think that. And no one else should either because you have already proven that's not the case."

The corner of Arthur's mouth quirked upward. She pulled him down by the chin and met him halfway to plant a kiss on his lips.

When they got back to the waiting room, Gran and Stuart were back and two more of his uncles were now missing. Neither Trenton nor Ian had returned. It wasn't much longer before Gramps's brothers went home for a good night's sleep. It took everyone else there to convince Gran to go home; two of her other sons went with her while Stuart and Arthur's two youngest uncles stayed at the hospital. Alexander and Margaret went home as well, so he could be rested for work. Arthur, Neil, Desmond, and Paulene spent the night at St. Mungo's. It was nearly impossible for Arthur to get Molly to go home because he refused to go with her, but he finally convinced her late into the night and she promised she would be back first thing in the morning.