"The insurance approved you," Dr. Ziv announced, laying a folder on the table and taking a seat across from the four anxious Hardy's. "And I've spoken with your psychiatrist and nutritionist and we've reached an agreement about your contract."

"Contract?" Joe asked wearily. The day had been too long for him, filled with session after session of repeating himself, his age, the overview of his 'relapse' that really had never stemmed from a cure.

"Anyone who has demonstrated non-compliance is put on a contract," the doctor explained. "This means that if you don't comply you will be removed from treatment." The doctor pulled out a yellow folder, then removed a blue paper that he turned toward the Hardy's. "First, no skipping supplements. If you skip a supplement you will immediately go on second contract, and if you miss again you will be removed. Second, no purging. If you are caught purging, you'll be given a second contract. Third, no skipping groups. Skip a group, second contract. Fourth, no skipping weights and measurements. Skip one…you get the idea. Also, no supplements after four days. After then you have to eat your meals, regardless of the meal plan your nutritionist puts you on."

Joe was white. He gripped the arm of the chair; Frank touched his hand.

"Isn't that too much too fast?" the elder Hardy boy demanded.

"There is no other way. We have to counterattack the disorder hard and fast. Easing patients into it means they'll inevitably choose to back out. It's a set-up for relapse. We have to put you through all the rough stuff as quickly as possible, so that the patient can move on to exploring the psychological issues beneath the disease."

Mrs. Hardy reached over and took her son's other hand. Fenton rubbed his eyes and sighed.

Joe looked to the ground, then up at his weary family. The family that loved him. The family he was killing.

"Okay," he murmured, exhaustion suddenly taking him. He hoped Dr. Ziv would send him to his room—he was coming in on Level One, total bed rest—and let him sleep, but she leaned back and looked almost hesitant.

"I'm going to make a suggestion that may not go over very well," the doctor told the anxious Hardys. Joe pulled his blanket closer and leaned his head on Frank's shoulder. The elder Hardy slid an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close.

"Well?" Fenton asked as the doctor hesitated, watching the boys closely. He drew a breath and looked straight at Joe.

"I'm going to recommend that you do not see your brother for the remainder of your stay here."

The room was silent for a moment. Then Joe burst out:

"What kind of bullshit is that? What do you mean I can't see Frank?"

"I think it would be best for the two of you to separate."

"Why?" Laura asked, clearly confused and hoping to calm her youngest son.

"Because separation issues are often tied to eating disorders. Normally, it's the patient tied to the parent. But in this case, I believe it's Joe tied to Frank."

"I don't understand…"

The doctor sighed. "Look, we're dealing primarily with the subconscious here. And I'm not saying this is the root of Joe's eating disorder, because there is no one factor. There are many. But I see a major one being how close Frank and Joe are, and how Frank is making plans to go away to school soon, and maybe, just maybe, deep in Joe's subconscious, his brain decided that if he got sick, Frank wouldn't leave. And so the body grew ill."

Joe was white. "I would never…"

"Subconscious, Joe. I didn't say you made this decision, because we all know you didn't. But maybe there's a part in your mind that did, and that is part of what's keeping you ill. If you become used to functioning without your brother around, it may help keep you healthy when Frank leaves."

"But…Frank's what's getting me through this…" Joe stumbled, and looked so dangerously close to tears Frank felt his own confusion melt away to anger.

"Look, with all due respect," the elder Hardy brother broke in, "I think this is a crock of bull. Joe and I aren't joined at the hip, and my brother helped me research colleges out of state. And if you think for one minute that I'm going to sit back and let my brother go through this alone, you're wrong. You're dead wrong."

"I'm not going to argue this," the doctor said crisply, "but that is my recommendation. You can do with it as you see fit."

With that she rose and excused himself from the room.

"I wouldn't do that…" Joe pleaded.

"I know," Frank said firmly, despairing at how weak his brother seemed, how exhausted, as if he didn't even have the strength to rage.

"Frank…Joe…maybe…just maybe…the doctor has a point," their father began. Frank started to protest, but he rushed on. "Just think…subconsciously. That's what he said. Maybe it would do you both some good to just separate for a little while."

Joe leaned forward, buried his face in his hands, and began to sob.

"Honey," Laura murmured, moving forward and pulling him against her. "It's okay. It's going to be okay."

"I'm so tired Mom…"

"I know baby, I know…"

"And I feel so weak…"

"I know…"

"And he said…no one understands…Frank said he'd help me…he said…he promised…"

"I'm not going anywhere, Joe," the elder Hardy soothed, moving closer to his mother and brother. "We're not going to listen to him, okay?"

Joe just sobbed harder into his mother's shoulder, and Frank knew how close his brother was to breaking. But the elder Hardy would never let him bend.

"Listen to me," he ordered, pulling his brother away from his mother to force him to look at him. "Joe, remember what I told you? I promised I'd be right by you the whole time. That's not changing. You won't always feel this bad, I promise. As soon as you start eating you'll start feeling better…"

"I can't. I can't eat. They give you so much food here, Frank, so much fatty food, and supplements if you don't finish, and sometimes even if you do…"

"But you need that to be healthy. Remember how you promised me you'd get healthy if I helped you? Well, I'm here to help you. So now you have to uphold your end."

Joe started to slump again, but Frank straightened him.

"It's okay. It's going to be okay. I don't lie, right?"

The younger Hardy boy nodded, rubbed his eyes as the door opened.

"You can move your things in now," Dr. Ziv announced.