When Asterix woke, the sun was high in the sky. For a moment he blinked, trying to remember where he was and what had happened. The druid's hut… Why was he in the druid's hut at noon? Noon, why was he asleep till noon?

Then it all came rushing back. "Oh, by Toutatis! The village!" he cried, sitting upright. The Romans, the fires, the druid. Then—a ribbon of gold. A dream. A friend taking Asterix's hurts.

"Obelix!" he cried, leaping out of bed. His head spun, and he collapsed to the floor, bedclothes still trailing behind.

"Asterix!" yelled Getafix the druid. "By all the gods, calm down!"

"O Getafix! I… Where's…" Asterix floundered as the druid disentangled him from the sheet twisted around his legs. Why was the room spinning? Why couldn't he move? "Obelix! He's…"

"ASTERIX!" bellowed the druid. "QUIET!" Asterix did, but barely. "Will you or will you not settle down long enough for me to get this sheet off you and give you your morning potions? By Belenos, no-one would think that last night you nearly died!"

The words gave Asterix pause. Making the most of it, Getafix scuttled round to get the crazy warrior's potions and pour them down him before he started moving again. "Drink," he commanded, followed by "Sit on the bed," which, miracle of miracles, Asterix did, and finally, "Keep still while I have a look at you."

It was a miracle. Asterix had been dying, and now was virtually whole. His bones were unbroken: his once-smashed knee moved smoothly and easily, his ribs expanded strongly and fully, and the once-shattered jaw and cheekbone were healed. Like his body, covered in fading green and yellow bruises throughout, his face was lightly bruised, showing only traces of the once mortal damage. "It is a miracle," Getafix sighed. "Gods be praised."

"So can I see Obelix now—" Asterix jumped off the bed, and fell flat on his face.

"A miracle," Getafix said sternly, scooping Asterix up and thanking Toutatis, Belenos and anyone else who might be listening that he'd thought to take a swig of magic potion before dealing with this immensely difficult patient, "does not mean you can go haring about as though you didn't stop breathing last night." He settled his patient firmly on his feet, supporting him. "You lost a lot of blood. You're going to be dizzy for days, and tire easily for weeks. Food and rest will help you become your old impossible self again." He smiled to take any sting out of his words. "Now, if you'll take my arm and move slowly like a good Gaul, Obelix is in the other bed just behind that curtain."

It was galling to have to shuffle across the room, more slowly than Geriatrix. But Asterix found his body wouldn't respond to his urgings to move faster. Finally, he accepted his own debility, and let the druid help him over to where part of the large main area was curtained off. Getafix didn't pull the fabric open, just held it aside a crack. Asterix stepped in.

The chamber formed by the partition was dark. It took Asterix's eyes a few moments to adjust to the dimness. "Obelix?" he whispered.

The faint light from behind the curtain limned his friend, a soft, rounded silhouette on Getafix's spare bed. A doggy whine greeted Asterix as he came in: it took his unadjusted eyes a moment to locate Dogmatix, sitting in the curve of Obelix's arm. "Hi, Dogmatix," he said softly. "You saved the village. Good doggie." He moved close enough to stand flush to the bed, scratching the dog behind the ears. He looked his sleeping friend up and down, trying to assess any damage. "Obelix?" he whispered softly.

"I gave him a few potions," Getafix said. "He'll sleep for a while."

But Asterix's eyes were fully used to the light now. "What's wrong with his leg?!"

The sudden stiffness in the druid's posture told Asterix that his old friend was, at the very least, unsure how to fix it. "He's been like this since your… trance," Getafix admitted.

Asterix moved closer. Obelix's stubby leg was twisted sideways and misshapen, swollen so badly it was as thick as his arm. The sight was like a knife in Asterix's heart. He raised stricken eyes to Getafix's. "How did he walk on this?"

"He didn't," Getafix said quietly. "He's been carried so far. I don't think he can walk on it."

"Have you," Asterix swallowed, "found out what's, um, wrong with it exactly?"

Getafix nodded. "The kneecap's shattered. As yours was."

Asterix winced. "Oh no." He sat on the edge of the bed, hand involuntarily going to his own healed knee. "O Obelix…" He could tell now that the trouser-leg of Obelix's breeches was cut off, replaced by a towel with some sort of herbal poultice beneath. Gently, he lifted the edge of the towel. But on this severe an injury, clearly even the gentlest touch wasn't gentle enough: Obelix shuddered and groaned. "I'm sorry!" Asterix blurted. He darted to his friend's head, ignoring the dizziness, wrapping his arms round Obelix's neck.

"Ast...mm..." the big man murmured, feeling the embrace in sleep.

Asterix pressed a hand to his friend's cheek. "O Obelix..." Only now did he notice that the druid seemed to have washed the dust off both of them: Obelix's skin, like Asterix's, was not dust-caked but clean and fresh, smelling of the eucalyptus salve the Gauls used to treat bruises. Now he could see better, Asterix could make out the green and yellow bruising beneath Obelix's skin, not unlike his own. He winced. It was all right for him, but Obelix wasn't supposed to be bruised. "Obelix, why? Why did you do this to yourself?" Tightening his arms around what he could reach of his friend, he pressed his face against the broad shoulder.

"Asterix!" The massive bulk beneath Asterix shifted as Obelix startled awake. His eyes snapped open, panic filling them. "Asterix, are you all right?"

Asterix moved backwards, into Obelix's line of sight. "Yes. Take it easy, all right?"

Frantically, Obelix reached out with both hands. Asterix met him halfway, allowing him to grip his, Asterix's, upper arms. Obelix's eyes were wide as he looked Asterix up and down. His hands were soft and hesitant on Asterix, as though he might press too hard and his friend might shatter. "Asterix," he said softly. "Are you..." He swallowed. "Are you..." He looked as though he couldn't get the words out. His face was pale, his eyes wet.

Asterix felt his face soften into a smile despite himself. "I'm fine," he murmured. Gently disengaging Obelix's hands from his arms with a soft squeeze, he took a step or two backwards to give Obelix a full view of him, and turned in place - slowly, for he couldn't manage anything strenuous - with his arms out. "See? I'm quite all right." Back facing the bed, he tried for a grin. He couldn't quite manage it, and truth to tell, he was rather dizzy from the motion, but he hoped it was clear to see that he was better. "Good as new," he said, stepping back to the side of the bed and taking Obelix's hands in his own.

A grin split Obelix's face, hesitant, then broader, filled with delight. "Asterix! You're really better. O by Toutatis..."

"Careful!" warned Asterix. "Don't try to sit—" But Obelix was already involuntarily sitting up, moving around on the mattress to better see Asterix - and of course, he jostled his swollen leg.

"Ow!" His hands tightened on Asterix's, but he snatched them out of his friend's supportive grip before he could hurt him.Gasping, Obelix fell back against the pillows, massive chest rising and falling as the agony stole his breath.

"Take it easy." Asterix stepped closer, heart aching. "Don't move."

But Obelix, still panting shallowly with pain, just turned his head, looking at Asterix, visibly drinking in the sight of him. "Asterix," he sighed, eyes soft. "You're…" Asterix had to swallow at what he saw in Obelix's eyes. But then Obelix's eyes flitted up and down Asterix's arms and face: he'd noticed the bruises. "O Asterix, I thought you were healed." Carefully, he reached out. "I don't want you to be hurt."

Asterix caught his questing hand at once, stopping his movement. "Stay still, I told you!" he snapped. It was all too easy to slip into the old ways of speaking. "Your leg's hurt, we've got to get that sorted out before you can move. Stop squirming around!" But then Asterix had to stop, because it had never been like this before. Not since Obelix was turned to stone had he needed to take care of his friend. He took his strength for granted, and now… Now, he might never walk again.

Suddenly, the words his friend had spoken before he left the village echoed through his head. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be chivvying you around."

Obelix was still staring at him with that same soft gaze, as though he couldn't quite believe his good fortune. "Why do you say that?"

"Well…" Asterix looked down at the sheet, "you said… before. About… that you, well. That I…" Obelix was still staring mystified. "That you… that I act like…" Normally Asterix would just burst into tears and be forgiven, but this felt weightier than that. "I don't know what the Roman plot was or anything, but you sounded…"

"Oh, that's all right," Obelix said softly. "I know what the Roman plot was."

Asterix stared. "You… what?"

"I was the Roman plot," came a low voice from behind Asterix.

He whirled. "What?" His brain seemed to have stopped working. He was usually more coherent than this.

The Numidian healer stood in the 'doorway' formed by the curtain. "You can hit me if you want," he said. "I probably deserve it."

A stool appeared behind Asterix's knees, and he sat down gratefully. "Thanks, O Getafix."

"I thought you might want to be sitting down for this," said the druid, smoothly coming round from behind Asterix's back. He addressed himself to the Roman stranger. "You are going to tell him everything, aren't you?"

The Roman nodded. He met Asterix's eyes, and his hand moved feebly but stopped short of a handshake. "Caius Insidius, formerly of Caesar's Secret Service – O by Jupiter, he'll probably have me killed once he finds out I'm not coming back – anyway." He gave a half-bow. "At your service."

As the story unfolded, all Asterix would think that it was a good thing for this Caius Insidius that he, Asterix, was still weak, otherwise Asterix would have thumped him—probably punched him all the way back to Rome. Drive a wedge between him and Obelix? Make Obelix think he was bad for Asterix? Make him say to Asterix that he didn't want his friendship? And worse—transfer Asterix's hurts to Obelix? When the tale was done, he was shaking with rage. "How dare you? Look at him! You could have killed him—"

Oddly, it was Obelix who stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Asterix, he saved your life."

Asterix's eyes flashed. "Maybe I don't want to be saved by a double-dealing worm."

"I called him a little worm myself," said a feminine voice from the door. "But he's changed quite a bit since then."

Latraviata glided into the room, perfectly coiffed and stunning in deep green robes, as though yesterday's ordeal had been only a dream for her. "Hello, Asterix."

Asterix fumbled to take off his helmet, only to find he wasn't wearing it. He tried to stand respectfully at least, but found himself too dizzy, and sat down again. "Hello," he finally managed to say.

Behind the Roman diva's routine seductiveness, her face was open and held only friendship. She looked over at Obelix and smiled. "It's good to see you awake," she said, and it was clear she meant it.

"Good morning, my dear," said Getafix, making Asterix blink. What in the name of Toutatis and Belenos…? The druid had never trusted Latraviata, much less considered her a friend. Whatever had transpired between them while he was captured, it had changed a lot. He'd have to winkle it out of the druid later.

"I promise you, he's changed." Latraviata came over to lay a comradely hand on the Roman agent's shoulder. "If he wants to help you, let him. His intentions are true."

"I know that," Obelix chimed in sincerely.

Asterix looked hard at the contrite Roman agent. Truth be told, he had felt the man's sincerity too, felt it in a realm where there could be no lies. He took a breath, still dizzy. "All right," he conceded. "Let's say you're telling the truth. Why didn't you heal Obelix fully?"

"He pushed me away!" burst out Caius Insidius in indignation and what seemed like wounded professional pride. "He just—jumped out of the trance before I could guide him!" He turned to Asterix. "How much do you remember?"

Asterix thought hard as Getafix the druid looked on. "Not as much as I'd like to," he confessed. "It feels as though it might come back later. I do remember Obelix taking away…" he glared at his friend, "…some of the things that were wrong with me. Onto himself, I mean. Though I told him not to." He looked up at Insidius. "Is that right?"

"Yes. He did. I was supposed to help, but all I did was open the conduit and you two took care of the rest, really. Only he stopped short of the point where the injuries would have all been dissipated. They're not supposed to stay, you know. They're meant to disappear when the trance is concluded."

"Well, they haven't," Asterix retorted.

"No." Caius Insidius frowned. "I'd almost say…" He looked up at the druid for help. "…Is there such a thing as rejecting healing? If you feel, I know this sounds silly, if you feel you don't deserve it?"

Getafix nodded. "It's fairly uncommon, but it's been known to happen. When someone is guilty of some great crime or cardinal sin. Or betrayal—um…" His eyes widened and he trailed off, covering the end of the words in a loud cough. He pretended not to see Obelix's stricken expression. "Um, I think my potion is boiling over. I'll be back in a minute…" And he fled.

Asterix stared at Obelix, Caius Insidius' dark eyes unhappily confirming what the Gaul already suspected. "Is that it?" he whispered. "I do seem to remember…" he nodded slowly, "you… saying… saying you'd hurt me, is that right?"

Obelix looked down at the covers. "I always do," he muttered.

"Obelix!" Asterix flung himself at his friend, wrapping his arms round his neck. "How can you say that?!"

Obelix didn't return the hug, turning his head away. "It's the truth."

Asterix pulled away, hands on Obelix's arms, to look into his eyes. "What on earth's got into you?"

The Roman agent cleared his throat. "Um… well, that might have been part of the plot as well."

Asterix turned to him. His glare could melt steel. "This is your doing, isn't it?"

"Ummm…" Caius Insidius went pale underneath his pigmentation, which made him rather yellowish. "I can show you exactly how. If," he added hurriedly, "you promise not to thump me."

Asterix sighed, kneeling on the edge of Obelix's bed. He didn't think he could thump a fly right now, much less a Roman. "I…" He looked from Obelix to the Roman who'd poisoned his mind. Who'd also saved Asterix's life. Whom Obelix now trusted.

"Ahem." Asterix glanced up. Getafix was standing at the door. He gave a slight nod.

Asterix glanced back at Obelix, who was rather pale and scared. That, more than anything else, decided him. "You'll take me into his mind? Show me what you did to him?"

"No!" Obelix shook his head violently. The motion jarred his ruined leg. "Ow!"

Asterix waved a hand. "Oh, shut up." He turned to the Roman. "What do I have to do?"

"Just lie down," said Caius Insidius. "In a trance, you go limp. So you should lie down and..."

"No, Asterix!" Obelix seemed positively frightened now. "I don't want you to!"

"Yes, well. Budge up." Asterix nudged at his friend's side until he'd carved out a tiny sliver of bed next to Obelix, and lay down. "Ready, O Roman?"

"He does have to give permission," said the shaman. "We can't do it against his will."

"Obelix won't shut me out." Asterix looked up at Obelix, softening his gaze. "Would you shut me out, Obelix?"

Getafix had to hide a smile as Obelix frowned hard in a futile attempt to resist the emotional blackmail. "Well, no, I suppose… but… Oh, all right." Resigned, the big man lay back and closed his eyes.

"Before a performance, we usually eat something with sugar in it," Latraviata said softly to the druid.

Getafix's face brightened. "An excellent idea." He darted out of the room as the others stared, returning with three small gourds, which he handed to Asterix, Obelix and Insidius. "This will give you strength."

"To thump him?" Asterix jerked his head at Insidius, only half-jokingly. Anything that had Obelix this scared must be bad. He eyed the gourd, then shrugged mentally and downed it. "What do I have to do now?"

"Lie back and relax," said the Roman. "Touch him." He took over Asterix's stool by the bed, positioning himself so he'd land on the Gaulish pair if he slumped. Then he reached out and laid a hand carefully on Obelix's forearm. Asterix was already close to his friend, half-sitting up with his head resting on the broad shoulder. "Breathe deeply, as if you're trying to sleep."

Asterix did. A strange sucking sensation took him over, a vertigo that pulled him backwards. "Huh!" He opened his eyes.

"Try to relax," Getafix instructed.

"All right." Asterix closed his eyes again, a little more prepared for the pull this time. It was disorienting and dizzying but not threatening—just unfamiliar. He reached blindly out and found Obelix's hand. Gripping tightly, he let himself slip into the soft darkness.