A.N:

Shaken up slightly by this weekends happenings, but I refuse to let one madman ruin things I enjoy.

I will not use anything from the 22.07.11 happenings in any shape or form, but I did still want to continue this fic.

I hope this chapter lives up to people's expectations.

Prompt this time was:

Colour: Orange, Song: "Memory" from CATS the musical and word: Frame


After much persuasion and some very cold glares, Willem is allowed to visit Erik whenever he feels like it.

Erik isn't allowed anywhere but the library and the garden, so if the two want to talk on a rainy day, their only option is Erik's room or the level 3 living room.

But Willem is terrified of staying there for too long – the other patients stare at him and some get uncomfortably close.

So Willem brings a pillow or two from his own room and the two men sit and chat about various topics.

It only takes a week before some of the more regular nurses seem to think Willem's visits are doing Erik good. And soon the nurses fetch them freshly brewed coffee from the staff room whenever they see Willem making his way down the corridor.

In a (no longer that) rare moment of happiness, Erik jokes that it's almost like being in a five star hotel.

Willem laughs before pointing out that most hotels don't lock you up in your room.

However, he has to admit it's rather fantastic what they do.

Erik has his own an-suite bathroom, and all his clothes are neatly washed and pressed before being handed back to him.

Willem has to wash his own clothes.

But he's the one in re-rehabilitation. He's supposed to be as independent as possible.

Erik is stuck here forever – so he has no need to know how to wash his own clothes.

Although, he did bitterly tell Willem that he actually liked doing laundry and housework, and he hated how he wasn't even allowed to wash his own floors any more.

It's during one of their little meetings that Willem discovers Erik has a few unusual or strange hobbies (not including seeing and talking to faeries)

Erik knits.

And he's good at it.

However; Erik tells him with a frown that he's not allowed the knitting needles he wants, only the big and blunt ones. He admits to only being able to make crude scarves – and while Willem thinks it's a bit unfair, he can't help that the mental image of Erik knitting makes him chuckle none the less.

"Hhn, by the way...are you allowed visitors from the outside?" Willem adds during one of their little coffee 'dates'.

Erik looks at Willem over the rim of his coffee cup before slowly placing the cup on his bedside table. As usual Erik is using his bed as a chair while Willem has stolen all pillows and duvets he can find and made himself comfortable on the floor.

"Yeah...I'm allowed visitors" he nods as he's talking; absent-mindedly munching on some salty licorice he always seems to keep in his bedside table drawer. "But why do you ask?"

"My sister is coming over tomorrow...she wants to meet you too,"

"Meet me? Why?"

"I have no idea...you're as dull as a brick,"

"Oi..." Erik frowned and chucked a piece of licorice at Willem's head.

Willem attempted to dodge the 'deadly' piece of licorice projectile - it still hit him square in the head. Erik has a damn good aim.

"Ouch...uncalled for" Willem mutters under his breath.

"You deserved that one" Erik crosses his arms and leans against the wall. "Now tell me why your sister wants to meet me..."

He shifts uncomfortably under Erik cold glare. He knows Erik won't do anything more than a light punch to his arm, but Willem has to admit that despite the height difference; Erik still knows exactly how to make Willem feel incredibly small and weak.

"I have, um... well... mentioned you a few times when she comes to visit, and now she's... curious." Yes - he things to himself. Curious is the word.

Erik rolls his eyes "Is she that interested in meeting the crazies?" he asks.

The comment makes Willem frown and glare right back at Erik before he chucks a pillow right at him.

"Not everyone thinks you're a lunatic just because you're in here,"

"The people who matter seem to think so..."

Erik once again gets the odd look in his eyes. There's a story behind that comment, but Willem can't even begin to try and guess what. Needless to say, he's still going to try.

"Come to think of it...you never have any other visitors but me...why is that?"

"Maybe I don't have any family...did you consider that?"

The words are bitter and angry, and Willem has to admit that no – he did not consider that.

"But you do have a family...or you must have had one at some point,"

Erik moves further away from him, turning his head to look out of the window – Willem knows he's hit a sensitive topic now. Erik only ignores him like this when there's something he doesn't like to talk about is brought up.

However, Willem has never been one for subtlety, nor is he a patient man.

"Erik, for fucks sake. Stop being a such a prissy little teenage girl."

Erik suddenly looks at Willem with such a raging fire in his dark blue eyes that it frightens Willem down to the very depth of his soul. He's never seen Erik this angry with him. The next thing he knows Erik has thrown the pillow back at him and 20 seconds later the Nordic has a firm grip on his shirt's collar, pulling him slightly up from his comfortable position on the floor.

"They took him away! I'm dead to him and I can never see him again!"

Willem is shaking, he's never seen Erik this mad. And for a brief moment he suddenly thinks he knows why Erik is locked up in the asylum.

"Who can't you see?" His voice is cracking ever so slightly as he speaks. Showing fear is a bad idea, but his so-called-friend is so angry right now that all Willem can feel is terror.

"My brother..." Erik's grip on Willem loosens and he suddenly crumbles. Just as quickly as the burst of anger came – it's gone.

Left is the broken and empty shell of a man. His shoulders are quivering as Erik tries to curl up in a tiny ball. His long slender limbs making the process look uncomfortable and painful.

"Erik..?" Willem carefully reaches out to touch his shoulder. He might not like hugs, but a little human interaction seems to be welcomed.

"Sorry," comes the weak and apologetic voice. It doesn't suit him at all. Erik should be strong, never showing emotions like fear and weakness, because it simply just sounds so wrong. His deep voice can lull a scared child to sleep – but when his own voice is terrified; something is just not right.

Willem silently debates what to do as he glances towards the door.

The nurses have not come running yet – not that Erik raised his voice enough for them to hear him - Willem shudders to think what would have happened had they seen Erik grab a hold of him so violently.

Level 5 for the rest of his life perhaps...

Willem doesn't want that.

Erik isn't getting better from isolation.

Isolation is what caused him to snap in the first place, why can't they see that he needs people around him to be cured?

"I shouldn't have prodded old wounds in the first time..."

Erik shakes his head, moving away from Willem with slow and careful movements – as if he's some large scary animal trying to prove he won't hurt a small defenceless creature.

He doesn't move until Erik is well and truly back on his own bed, after 4 agonising minutes of silence Willem decides to try again.

"So you have a brother...?"

All he gets as a reply is a nod.

Okay – not very helpful, but he's still alive: and that certainly counts for something. Erik is quiet but in no rush to rip his throat out, so Willem deems it safe to ask a few more questions.

He coughs into his hand, the itch in the back of his throat becoming more prominent as he feels his nerves jitter and shake.

"What's his name...and um...how old is he?"

Erik seems to not have heard him, but this time Willem doesn't press him for more information. Instead he sits completely still and simply waits.

And he's greeted with results.

Slowly Erik moves to his bedside table, opening the top drawer with slow movements. After removing a few books, paper pads and some pencils, he pulls out an old and battered photo frame.

The picture is slightly faded and worn, yet it is still clear to Willem who it is. Erik is sitting on some rocks near the sea – he looks about 18, on his lap is a young boy, no older than 7 or 8. The two are smiling. Not a large and wide grin, but small and mysterious.

"My little brother...Emil," Erik breathes out quietly as he let's Willem take the photo frame and study the picture more carefully.

It's very apparent the two are related, they have a certain air around them that is even able to be conveyed through pictures.

Willem often found Erik's 'aura' a little mysterious, he fears if he actually had his brother in the same room the two could probably freeze a person to the spot with a single glance.

"What happened?"

Again, all he gets is silence. However; he knows he needs to be patient now – Erik will tell him, at his own pace.

While Erik doesn't speak, whenever Willem steals a glance at the shorter male; he can tell he's deep in thought. His brows are furrowed ever so slightly, and his bottom lip is being chewed endlessly. His usually soft pink lips turning into a violent red as Erik's sharp teeth are gnawing away at the tender flesh.

"They didn't think I could care for him any more..."

His voice is quiet, and Willem can hear how much he's struggling to put it all into words – it can't be easy to re-live such memories; yet he keeps quiet because he wants to know so badly more about Erik's life.

"He's eleven years younger than me..."

Ok – younger than Willem had guessed. Emil must now be 17 then. He would have been around 13 when Erik was admitted to this place.

A shiver runs down the Dutchman's back.

Erik isn't allowed to see his brother – and they seem to be so close in the picture.

It is no wonder this asylum is slowly killing the Nordic – everything he loves and cares about is being denied from him or taken away.

Suddenly the burst of anger he displayed earlier is so very understandable that Willem feels incredibly guilty for even thinking Erik needed to be locked up.

"Our parents were always so busy. They up and left when Emil was 8, left me to care for him,"

Willem's gaze is drawn towards the photograph again – it must have been taken around that time. They look carefree, but since it's only the two brothers Willem can't help but speculate if the picture was taken after their parents left.

Erik must have been a very strong person to resume such a responsibility.

Yet some things are missing from the puzzle. If Erik took care of his brother, why did he still end up broken and locked up in a place like this when it was loneliness that made him snap in the first place?

Has he been lying to him?

Willem shakes the thought away – he needs to stop doubting Erik. Right now he's the only one who trusts Erik or believes his stories (not the faerie ones – but not even Erik expects anyone to believe them)

"I needed to work...so when I was 20 I got the job at Svalbard. Emil stayed at a friends of ours' home in Iceland most of the year..."

Willem nods as he listens to Erik slowly but surely unveil his past.

The Norwegian is leaving out a lot of details, but details isn't needed to understand the situation. Erik's tone of voice is all Willem needs to understand just how difficult it all is for his friend.

"Due to the, well, long hours, I only got to see him during Christmas..."

Erik is picking at his nails, the edges frayed and broken as he rips of piece by piece. Willem doesn't think Erik even notices that he's doing it – it's like a bad habit.

With a sight he moves from his spot on the floor to sit beside him, reaching out to grab a hold of one hand.

Erik flinches at the contact, but he does stop ripping his own fingernails to bits.

"I..I wrote to him before, but..I don't know...it just wasn't the same,"

Willem frowns as he strokes his thumb over Erik's knuckles. He's never considered himself tanned, but in contrast with Erik he's a lot less pale than.

"Why doesn't he come visit you now while you're here?"

Erik mutters something that Willem can't quite catch

"Come again?"

Erik takes a deep breath before speaking again

"His new 'caretakers' don't think it's good for him to see his 'psychopathic' brother..."

"Fuckers," Willem almost growls the word out.

It's not fair in any way that Erik should be denied contact with his younger brother. After all; Willem would be on the dwindling road to suicide had he not had his siblings.

How Erik is still alive is actually one big mystery.

"Last I heard...they told him I'm dead...wouldn't surprise me either..."

"Oh..."

Silence falls over them once again, and suddenly Willem is aware he's still holding Erik's hand.

He quickly lets go – and immediately regrets it.

Even if he was the oldest, no one could make him feel safer than Margaret. The way his younger sister would smile so sweetly and hold his hand if he ever got scared.

It had been Margaret who had held his hand while he had been in hospital after he'd fallen down from a very high climbing wall.

The accident had left a scar on his forehead, but only Margaret knew that Willem had been dared to do it by some older kids.

Or rather – they had threatened to do something to his siblings if he didn't climb the wall.

Willem had in his childish naivety done as told. The next thing he knew one of the older kids had thrown a rock at his head and then he lost his grip.

Next memory was of a smiling Margaret sitting by his bed – holding his hand and singing a song.

She had refused to leave his side for the entire hospital stay. Bringing him her stuffed animals and security blanket to 'borrow' while he recovered.

His hospital room had by the end of the stay been transformed from pale green and white to a colourful display of all the colours of the rainbow.

His siblings even insisted on using their allowance to buy him a potted plant.

He still had it.

It had been a tulip bulb in a ceramic pot - painted a bright orange.

Willem had taken great care of it, and eventually planted out in the garden. Margaret gave him updates in how the plant was faring whenever she came to visit.

It was nice to be reminded about silly things like that.

Clearing his throat, he patted the man on the back before he stood up from the bed.

"Well...Margaret will be thrilled to meet you..."

he flashed Erik a smile as he took a small step away, thankful that Erik seemed to be recovering slightly from his slump into depression.

"We..." Willem shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another – this wasn't easy to put into words

"We...might not be blood related, but we'll be your family none the less..."

Erik met his eyes and a small smile spread across his lips.

"That...would be nice,"

Willem grinned. Success.


A.N:

Thanks to everyone still sticking with me and this fic – I get so giddy every time I see someone has sent me a review for this. Takk