The next morning, I awoke to find us in nearly the same positions. Tony was still hugging me, though his grip had grown lax during the night, and I was steadfastly cuddled against his chest.

I blinked hard to cast the sleepiness from my eyes prior to opening them, revealing the blue-black eyes of our people to the sleeping face of my older brother. I couldn't bear to wake him, so I stayed by his side, as I knew he would wish of me.

To anyone who didn't know him as well as I did, it would seem that he was peaceful here, in sleep. Yet, because of my advantage, I knew better. Far better.

His head was teeming with potential nightmares about the horrific things he had faced and encountered during our weekend, the same terrors that had provoked his sudden onslaught of tears last night and were presently causing faint shadows to form under his eyes. Somehow, I knew the only thing keeping those nightmarish intentions from becoming real was my presence.

I internally exhaled in relief upon seeing the shining tear trails on his face were practically nonexistent, meaning he had cried no further than I could recall. He must have cried himself to sleep as well as me.

Perhaps-

'Tia?'

My eyes widened. Startled, my hand reflexively flew to rest on my brother's as a familiar voice entered my mind.

'Uncle Bené?' I answered back. It was not unusual for our beloved uncle to be up so early, but it was strange for him to telepathically call out to me at such an hour.

Then, I realized what was going on: Uncle Bené always checked our rooms when he got up each morning to make sure we were sleeping soundly, seeing as I had been known to have nightmares about Mr. Bolt or Deranian finding us when I was younger, which I would sometimes accidentally share with Tony in my sleep. It had been three years, but he hadn't dropped the protective practice.

'Uncle Bené, I'm sorry. I'm with Tony. I…' Finding the words to describe my need to be with my currently emotionally and mentally agonized brother was difficult for some unknown reason, but it seemed I wouldn't have to worry.

'It's all right, Tia. I understand. I only hope you can help him. The poor boy seems incredibly down about something.' I smiled minutely, no matter that my guardian couldn't see it.

'Thank you, Uncle Bené.'

'You're welcome, Tia. I'm just glad you're there for him.'

Feeling the connection between us slowly dissolving, I leaned back onto my brother's chest. Unexplainably exhausted all of a sudden, I closed my eyes and let his sole presence drink me in.

It had been two weeks since then, and Tony's 'condition' had only worsened.

He kept to himself for the most part, really only joining Uncle Bené and me when it came to meals, and even then, he was as silent and distant as ever.

Uncle Bené became seriously concerned, constantly asking me questions about Tony's uncharacteristic, lingering behavior. I was always increasingly nervous during these sessions; Uncle Bené was never harsh or violent, but the mere reality that, eventually, I might have to betray my brother's trust and tell him was more than I could handle.

I tried to speak telepathically with Tony more and more as the days passed, seeing as he wouldn't talk to anyone verbally anymore, but each time, it was like he was shutting me out. I watched him as he walked from the house sometimes, hands deep in his pockets, head down, eyes staring at nothing as he gazed vacantly at the ground.

Even when Uncle Bené tried to speak with him, both telepathically and orally, he was issued no response of any kind. The boy would only stare at him, stare as if unseeing or seeing quite well and straight through him.

The psychologists in our community had tried, the doctors had tried; it seemed no one could find any sort of affliction, any sort of indicating that something was wrong with him, and yet…this wasn't our Tony. This wasn't my Tony.

It appeared no one would ever be able to get through to him. He had turned cold to every one of our people, even those closest to him: Uncle Bené and me. For some reason, though, it seemed he had turned especially detached toward me.

Whenever we were together, which I made sure was quite often, he kept his gaze straight ahead, mouth and mind closed off, sometimes walking faster than me as if to pretend I wasn't there. Now and then, I would reach over to try to grasp his hand like I had that first night home, but he would simply step farther away from me, folding his hands behind his back.

Feeling more desperate and alone than anything else, I found myself sneaking down the hall to his door in the dead of night more frequently than ever, only having to hear his even, mostly unburdened breathing to know that at least some semblance of the brother I knew and loved, who loved me, was still there.

For me, the real fear in this entire situation was not as the humans would expect; it was not the affect all of this would have on me, our people, or Uncle Bené that scared me. Rather, it was the toll being taken on Tony…

My brother was not the same, had not been the same for approximately three months now, and I was dying inside. If I had thought three days without him physically beside me was absolute torture-before-death, ninety days without him there in any form at all was indeterminably numbing.

Each night, before and after checking on Tony, I internally struggled with the prospect of simply forcing my way into his room and refusing to leave until I got some answers. In the past, I knew Tony would never have hurt me corporeally at all, but with this new, indifferently unpredictable behavior, I was sickened as the thought that I could no longer truly be sure ran through my mind.

Each time, the fearful side won out, and I would turn on my heel and race back to my room before Tony could sense me, although that held little to no logic on my part seeing as he was asleep.

Once back to bed, I would bury myself within my sheets, hugging them all to my chest as I pushed my head deeper into my fluffy pillow. Then, I would feel the tears start to prick my eyes, and I would not interfere as an uncountable number charged to win the race down my visage.

Even while I cried myself to sleep, I would close my eyes and fold my hands tightly, praying as my brother and I had been taught when attending church at St. Paul's Mission with Granny Malone.

I prayed for Tony every night without fail. Even if my people didn't have a defined religion, I knew I couldn't do this on my own. I needed help and lots of it. I wanted my brother back, and this was the last thing I knew to try.

Both of us having turned a year older the day Tony had been permanently freed from Dr. Gannon's control, Tony fifteen to my thirteen, I realized my older sibling was in much bigger trouble than I had originally comprehended.

If he didn't come back to us soon, or ever, he was going to chase away everyone important to him. It was amazingly hard, if not basically impossible, to lose even a bit of our connection to any of our people, friends or closer, but we were humanoid aliens. Apart from our abilities, we were practically human ourselves.

Therefore, I noticed people that had been our friends for as long as we'd been there shaking their heads in a pitying motion as they walked away from our house, some even looking into my eyes and touching my shoulder in sympathy before leaving. Uncle Bené had virtually stopped trying by now as well, having exhausted his energies via aiding Tony when there was no progress to be made.

Knowing I wouldn't be able to take it much longer, I began to formulate a plan. If Tony wouldn't come to me, I'd come to him, whether he liked it or not. If he fought back verbally, which would be his first vocal words in three months, I was confident I had enough to pin him; if he fought back telekinetically...if it came down to it, I knew I'd have no choice but to fight him. I just hoped it wouldn't get that far.

A/N: I know this may seem like they're OOC, but I just thought this could be a proposed side for what COULD have happened psychologically to Tony after the whole ordeal with Dr. Gannon. Besides that, my mind won't shut up! XD Plus...it IS an interesting concept... I mean, how the heck could he NOT have been a little psyched out after being kidnapped, controlled, and nearly forced to kill his own sister?! O.O

A/N: If you're wondering about the chapter title, it's the abbreviation for 'Borderline Personality Disorder'. I believe it really fits Tony in this chapter.