"What's the matter with you, Obelix?"

There was no denying it: Asterix was worried. Obelix wasn't himself at all. He kept staring off into space, he stood there as a Roman patrol walked past… He hoped it was just that Obelix was in love again. Who it could be was a mystery, but Asterix infinitely preferred that to the other option: that his friend had been taken ill somehow, or that… He pushed the thought away, but it returned, relentless. There was a reason why not everyone in the village was dunked in the magic potion at birth. Nobody knew what could happen in the long term. And, while everything so far seemed positive, Asterix knew that Getafix held a secret fear that one day, Obelix would suffer for it, that what had seemed a blessing might turn into a curse.

"Obelix?" Asterix asked again. Such unhappiness in his friend's eyes Asterix had never seen. "Obelix, please tell me what's wrong."

From above, Insidius watched. While the pair often went hunting in the forest, he'd noticed that if there were confidences to be shared, there was one spot that they preferred – the same place where they had met before. So here he was, watching.

"I…" Obelix burst into tears. Asterix stood beside him and patted his hand. "I had… I just had a bad dream, that's all."

No, no, no, no, no! Insidius clenched his fists in horror. He couldn't afford to have Asterix reassure his friend, and undo all his hard work! It would be impossible to make him believe it if they shared that confidence. Thinking fast, he pulled a coin from his pocket – a pebble would have been better, but they didn't grow on trees – and tossed it into the bushes at the left of the clearing, on Asterix's side.

The wings on the warrior's helmet shot up, his head rising, on alert. "Something's over there. Hang on a moment."

Asterix darted out of sight towards the sound, heading into the bushes. As soon as Insidius judged he was out of earshot, he whispered, making his voice as spectral as possible, "Speak not of your nightmares, Obelix."

Obelix jerked, looking wildly about him. The little dog whimpered. "Wh—"

"To betray your conscience," Insidius intoned, "is to betray the gods."

A rustling of bushes heralded Asterix's return. "I found this," he said, frowning seriously and holding up the sestertius Insidius had thrown. "There was a high-ranking Roman here, a centurion or higher."

"How…" Obelix swallowed. Insidius noted with some satisfaction that the big Gaul's mouth was dry. "How can you tell?"

Asterix turned the coin over in his hands. "Rank-and-file don't have enough sestertii to be tossing them about. Not even optiones, those get paid in denarii. There's something going on here." He looked up at Obelix. "The coin was warm, too. Hasn't been lying around for long. Someone was here recently."

Insidius raised his eyebrows. Perhaps his 'conscience' persona wasn't as far off the mark as he'd thought: clearly Asterix was far too bright to be keeping company with Obelix. Well, at least he'd caused the little warrior to forget about investigating his friend's…

"…dream, Obelix?"

"Oh, nothing," Obelix said unconvincingly.

Aserix came closer to Obelix, his gaze gentle and filled with sympathy. "You can tell me, Obelix," he said softly. The love that filled Asterix's warm eyes made Insidius shudder. He had to strongly push away the feeling that he was committing a sin.

Obelix rallied, and about time too. "I remember it was a bad dream, but I don't remember what it was."

Asterix stood, and flung his arms about Obelix's neck as the big man sat under the tree. "Never mind, then. It was only a dream. We're together and we have our health, and Dogmatix is here with us, and our friends are all alive and well, and we're going to have some nice boars for dinner, so come on!"

It was time to step up the pace. Insidius hadn't counted on how careful Asterix was of his fat friend's welfare. The sooner he split them up, the better. Another moonrise and another sleeping-draught for the dog, and he stood at Obelix's bedside once again.

His deep breaths immediately took him into a world that was different. Autumn had come to the forest of Obelix's soul. The trees were grey, the sky slate-dark and impassive. The leaves had withered. Their stalks and the roots of the grass were still tinged with green, but the atmosphere was wintry. Insidius breathed deep, feeling the soul-chill invade him. He almost felt regretful at his victory.

Curious, he delved beneath the ground's surface. Almost immediately, he felt a barrier – the warm security of Asterix's presence in Obelix's heart was walled off. Reaching out, he could sense the potential: if the barrier was taken down, the warmth could return once more. But Obelix had carefully closed off his emotions from his friend's. Here and there, though, the glass-like wall was weak in places, letting warmth seep through. Insidius steeled himself. It was his job to block the warmth entirely.

"You were wise not to speak to Asterix," he murmured.

A chill wind shuddered through the branches. "I..." Obelix didn't quite speak. Insidius wasn't fully able to describe how he could make out the man's words. "I could… I don't want to be bad for him. I could change. I mean, the things you told me about, I could change them."

Insidius snorted. Even though he felt the love that lay at the core of this man's being, he concentrated on judging Obelix as harshly as possible. "You don't even try to change. Asterix is the first to apologize, the first to admit he might be in the wrong. You remain pigheaded and stubborn. You abandon Asterix."

"I don't!"

"How many times have you fought? How many times has he run after you and apologized?"

"I… I… I apologize too," Obelix murmured. Insidius was in his head now. Obelix felt lost, unmoored. "I… I tell him I'm sorry…"

"And well you may. You've always been in the wrong. Asterix never starts out by being unjust, does he?"

"He starts shouting first! He's done it lots of times!"

"And can you deny that every time it's because you've eaten something you shouldn't, or done something you shouldn't?"

Obelix wanted to deny it. His head spun. He seemed unable to think, to breathe.

"Name one reason – other than strength – that he would want to be friends with you. Name one useful thing you do."

Obelix's mouth hung open. Finally he stammered, "I… make menhirs."

"Oh! He makes menhirs! And what use, pray tell, are menhirs?"

"They… They're decorative?"

"Hark at you! Do you even believe yourself? The villagers swap them for things because they pity you! They have no use for unserviceable rocks!"

"But—but my father made them!"

Every ounce of venom Insidius possessed was in his next words. "Your father outgrew these stupid pursuits and opened a shop. He left his stupid son to mind his stupid quarry, because breaking stones is about the only thing his half-wit son was good for."

"Why are you telling me this?" choked Obelix.

"Because it's true. See yourself as you are, Gaul! Isn't it time to abandon the vain delusion that you're any kind of suitable best friend for Asterix? Let him find someone more worthy of his time. He drags himself down to your level every time he has a conversation with you. He helps you understand everything. He smoothes over your faux pas. He drags you along when you've made a pig of yourself. You are nothing but a great useless lump of fat."

"I am not—"

"Hah!" Insidius let out a derisive snort. "Even here, in your dreams, will you hide from your conscience? Obelix, you are fat. That in itself is not so bad. Many in the village are fat: the chief, the fishmonger, others. But you are abnormally fat. You are monstrous. You can lie to yourself, but you cannot lie to your image in the water. Obelix, you are a monster."

Caius had to shield himself hard as he said the words. He had said them to no man before, for they were the words Caius' own playmates had taunted him with, when they found out about his gift. Monster, monster. Numidian ruled by forest gods. Barbarian. Black face, black soul. Freak. Monster.

His classmates had called him a monster, made him feel as small as he was making Obelix feel now. His Mater had comforted him, told him he was different, that he was remarkable. He had loved his Mater more than life itself, found life and love and his moral compass in her eyes. Well, his Mater was dead. He sealed his heart in steel.

"Yes, a monster. You must know it, but you hide it from yourself, because who would wish to admit it? Have you not heard anyone calling you a monster before?"

"Y—yes, but…" Obelix shuddered, remembering Bionix after he'd drunk the whole cauldron of magic potion: frustrated at not being able to hit him anymore, the playground bully had called him a monster. But his best friend had defended him. Insidius was privy to his thoughts now, Obelix letting his 'conscience' into all his memories. "Asterix told me I wasn't a monster," said Obelix, hearing his own voice shake.

"Ah, Asterix, always standing up for you," his conscience said sadly. "Such a good friend to one who never deserved him. His good nature makes him blind to your faults. They spoke truth, Obelix..." What had the children said to Insidius long ago? He recalled the words that had hurt him the most deeply, though he had spent his life trying to forget them. "…You are a monstrosity, who ought to be on display in some traveling circus that parades the bizarre and the freakish for the entertainment of normal folk."

"But—but…" Deeply suspecting that his conscience spoke truth, Obelix yet racked his brain for a response. "The Belgians are strong! They're as big as me! The—the Goths, too! And the Gauls in the village of Chief Whosemoralsarelastix…"

"But they have a brain; they care about things besides eating and bashing Romans." Insidius pushed steel into his voice. "Have you no shame, to delude yourself so? Asterix would be far better off with Getafix as a friend: they understand each other. They converse of complex stratagems while you merely blink and scratch your vacant head. How many times have you failed to comprehend their plans, nay, possibly ruined them, with your loud noises and indiscreet actions?"

Obelix began to sob. Far, far too many. "I…" He gulped. Since this was his conscience, he had no recourse but to tell the whole truth. "I get angry with Asterix sometimes for not explaining things to me."

"Yes." Insidius, as his conscience, filled his tone with disgust. "Because you are so slow and stupid that by the time he did get it through your sluggish brain, saturated in the lard of the boars you guzzle, he would be killed, the adventure over."

"I… I let him give the orders…"

"Hark at him!" his conscience cried. "You say it as though you were doing him a favor. 'Let him?' By Juno, you ought to thank him on your knees every morning that he allows you to associate with him. 'Let him!' Now I've heard everything! It is he who 'lets you' accompany him, when any other of the villagers, the blacksmith or even the bard, would be better suited and understand him well enough!"

"He… He wants me to come with him," said Obelix, and his voice was very small.

"Who else could? The druid and bard are mainstays of the village. The blacksmith is busy with a useful occupation. The fishmonger will not leave his home and family. The farmer tills the land; the potter makes pots, the guard stands at the gate. All of them produce useful things, and have wives and children. Only you have no family, because no woman would ever marry a Gaul like you: you produce nothing but the sweat that pours off you while the sun is roasting you in your own fat!"

"I… No, I…"

Insidius made a sound like spitting. "You are too homely and disgusting for a woman to ever look at you! Running about smashing stones that are no use to anyone, you are no loss to the village while you are gone. Asterix takes pity on you, that is all, bringing you with him on his travels because he hopes it will broaden your mind, enrich your knowledge and experience. And what do you do? Mock the peoples you meet, and spend your time crying for food like a child. Asterix would be much lighter on his missions relived of your burden."

Obelix felt his world falling out from under him. Desperately, he searched for something, anything, to catch hold of as he fell into darkness and the horror of seeing himself as he really was. "I—I saved his life!" he cried, triumphant. "When the Romans were about to throw him into the sea!" That was at least one useful thing he had done in his miserable life.

"And he was in danger why?"

Obelix's heart sank. He knew why.

"I'm waiting for an answer."

"He… He was rescuing me."

"And why was he rescuing you?"

"Be… because…"

"Go on, go on!"

"Because I was a child."

"And why were you a child?"

"Because of the potion Getafix gave me."

"I see. And that was for what?"

Obelix could hardly speak for crying. He felt as though there were something burning in his chest, but cold at the same time. It felt like what he imagined the opposite of the potion must feel like. "Be… because I drank the magic potion… I drank a whole cauldron of it," the words burst out in a flood, "even though Getafix told me not to but it smelled so good and I couldn't resist and it turned me to stone and Asterix took care of me and I'm sorry!"

"You're sorry." His conscience's voice was glacial.

Obelix couldn't hold back his guilt any more. "He was only in danger because of me, he was only hit with the cannonball because of me, he was only on that ship in the first place because of me, because I was so greedy! I'm a fat, greedy pig!" He burst out sobbing. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

"What good would 'sorry' have done his corpse?"

Obelix shuddered, still sobbing. "Don't say that."

"I will say it, because you almost caused it. But for divine intervention, your friend Asterix would now be dead, devoured by the sharks, because of his desire to save you. He will always go into danger to save you, Obelix. He loves you that much. And that is why you owe it to him to leave his life, now, as soon as you can, for his own sake."

"Leave Asterix?"

"Before he leaves you, by death."

"No," Obelix choked. "I won't do silly things again. Don't make me leave him."

"Are you so selfish as to cling to him when you only bring him pain?"

"He… We have fun together."

"Of course you do. Asterix could have fun with anyone. He is a bright soul, a vibrant spirit. Would you leave such a one shackled to you for life, merely because of an accident of birth and proximity?"

"Prox…?"

"It means nearness. And there, right there, is proof of your ignorance. What do you know, Obelix of Gaul? You were ever the weakest at lessons. Asterix had to help you always. He has spent his entire life supporting you—him, with his fragile constitution. He could have supported you better if you were a more reasonable size, but you grew enormous because of your greed, starting with the potion. He is a kind person; he would never abandon you. But you never think of his benefit. You think only of food and fighting. You do nothing but destroy his concentration, whining for what you want like some spoilt child. He has to babysit you on missions. Babysit you, do you hear me? You are nothing but an overgrown infant. One day you'll get him killed, Obelix. For his sake, if you love him, you must leave him before that happens."

Shaking and crying, Obelix slid to the ground, the forest floor hard with frost. "You're right," he sobbed.

"Listen to you! Bawling like a baby!" Insidius didn't bother to hide his scorn. "Have you any idea what he has to go through, supporting you when you bawl like that at a drop of a hat? You sound like an elephant giving birth. Control yourself."

"But—but…" Obelix sobbed harder. "I—I can't!"

"More proof of your weak will. More proof of your uselessness. A man with no self-control is a man who endangers others."

There was nothing but cold in Obelix now. "I mean well…"

"You mean well! You mean well! So did the faithful pet bear in the old legend, watching over its sleeping master, when it saw a fly on his nose, and smashed it with a rock, killing him. That is what you are, Obelix. As long as you remain stupid and thoughtless, flailing about with your animal desires, you will ruin him and continue to ruin him. You would ruin anyone with your incompetence."

"I…"

"You act like a Roman when you're supposed to be acting like a Gaul, you act like a Gaul when you're pretending to be a Roman. You whistle and try to look innocent while your partner is robbing a bank, and actually imagine you still look innocent. How stupid are you, man? Is there nothing so ridiculous, so asinine that it will make you THINK, and not do it? You live in the moment, like a child. The only problem is, you're a child who weighs a thousand libras, and you've condemned Asterix to being your parent. Why do you think he has never found a mate? It's because he's lumbered with you."

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"If you're sorry, then show it. Set him free."

Insidius was unprepared for the storm that whipped up in Obelix's head. Leave Asterix… never see him laugh again… never hunt boar with him or share a laugh or fight and make up or share confidences or sit watching the sunset with him or have silly bets or… "Is—isn't there another way? I could try and improve…"

"Improve? A clever man can act stupid by subtracting from his intelligence; an ascetic can play the part of a glutton by subtracting from his self-control. But you, lacking the fundament, how can you subtract from what is not there?"

"I know all that, but I can't leave him!" Obelix cried.

"Will you remain weak, clinging to Asterix until you destroy him," intoned his conscience, "or will you do the right thing, and leave him?"

Memories and bright scenes flashed through Obelix's mind, too many to count. Going on adventures, falling over laughing so hard they had to lean on each other for support. Boar hunts, chatting and joking on sunlit mornings, curling up by the fireside and telling stories on cold winter nights. He thought of Asterix, sitting maybe by Getafix's fireside. Hunting boar by himself. Going on missions alone. His heart clenched at that. Asterix couldn't be alone. But his conscience had shown him, in so many ways, that he was no protector – he was a danger to Asterix. Maybe Dogmatix could stay with Asterix, but Obelix? He had to go.

"I… I'll go." Obelix realized there were tears running down his face, although his voice was steady. "I'll do it. But how?"

"Hmm." His conscience drummed his 'fingers' thoughtfully. "If he thinks you are going because you have finally realized your uselessness, Asterix will stop you, out of pity. He is a kind-hearted Gaul, he will sacrifice anything to spare another grief. The only way you will get Asterix to allow you to leave without pursuit is if you convince him that you are tired of his friendship, that you wish to be rid of him."

Obelix stopped crying for an instant from sheer shock. "What?"

"If you leave, he would follow, am I not right?"

"Yes. We're friends."

"Yes, the gods only know why. He is truly possessed of a great heart to give his time to one such as you. In any case, when would he not follow?"

"I… I can't think of any…"

"Jupiter save me from your stupidity! He would not follow if he thought you would benefit from being alone, that it was what you wanted."

"He'd n—never believe that."

"Unfortunately, that's true. He knows too well that you are nothing without him."

Obelix nodded forlornly, although he couldn't stop sobbing. "I—I am. Without Asterix… how could I… I'd be… like an empty gourd."

"Hmm. True enough. Doesn't solve our problem, though. Hmm," said Insidius again, as though thinking aloud. He had all this planned, of course; he just needed to get Obelix to fully go along. "Let me think of this. You be sure to not tell Asterix a thing. I'll visit your dreams tomorrow."