Everything's gone wrong.

The thought coursed through Kíli's head over and over as he sat at the bedside, his head in his hands; Fíli lay beside him, breathing deeply in a drugged sleep. So far, he had slept peacefully with no indication of nightmares, but still Kíli kept close watch.

You've always taken care of me. Now it's my turn to take care of you.

A knock came at the door, and Kíli raised his head and took a deep breath to steady himself.

"Come in," he called.

The door opened slowly, and Kíli heard his mother's footsteps behind him. He turned his head slightly to the side as she approached and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Do you need anything?" she said gently; there was a hesitancy to her voice, as if she were afraid to speak. Kíli shook his head but did not say anything, his irritation at her touch almost like a physical itch. His hand twitched.

Dís was silent for a few moments, and then she patted his shoulder and kissed the top of his head. He sat rigidly, neither accepting nor rejecting her touch, and she sighed and removed her hand.

"You're angry with me," she said.

Angry wasn't the word. Betrayed was more like it.

"You agreed with Uncle. About Fíli," he said. Dís took a breath to speak, but Kíli continued. "I thought you were with me. Putting Fíli in jail—he hasn't done anything wrong, Mum. He was just—"

"Caught up in a nightmare? Do you honestly believe that?" Dís said sharply. "Kíli, he threatened to kill you. He held a knife to your throat. He was waiting behind the door. He planned it."

"You agreed to it before that even happened," Kíli snapped. He turned his dark eyes on his mother, and she stared right back, undaunted by the fire in his gaze.

"You are letting your emotions cloud your judgment," said Dís. "You saw his behavior and you heard what he said. This is to keep him—and you—safe."

"Safe? He's my brother! He wouldn't—"

"That's enough," Dís said. "You are either unwilling or unable to understand. This is the best we can do in this situation, and that is the end of it. It is not your decision to make."

A thousand angry words coursed through his head in the span of a moment, but sixty-two years of honoring elders stayed his tongue. His insides coiled and his fingers twitched; he clenched his jaw and said nothing as a fierce storm raged in his heart. His mother did not break her gaze. She could be as stubborn as her son if she wished, and she would not allow Kíli to win this silent battle.

The sound of the front door opening took the attention of both of them, and two sets of heavy footsteps made their way towards the bedroom. Kíli's heart leapt in his chest. They were coming for Fíli—he knew it. He placed a hand on Fíli's arm and took a deep breath.

This can't be happening.

Kíli stood and turned to face the door just as Thorin entered with Dwalin behind him. They looked at him and then at each other, a whole conversation passing silently between them before Thorin turned back to his youngest nephew.

"Kíli—"

"Please, Uncle," said Kíli, feeling the sting of sudden tears in his eyes. He stared at Thorin beseechingly. Please don't do this.

The old dwarf said nothing; his gaze moved beyond Kíli to Fíli, and he took a step forward. Kíli held out his arms to either side protectively, glaring. With a sigh, Thorin eyed his nephew, earning an increasingly hostile glare in return.

Thorin spoke softly, as if he were coaxing a wary animal to trust him.

"We're not going to hurt him, Kíli."

A feeling niggled into Kíli's mind that he was being ridiculous—of course Thorin wouldn't hurt his brother. Thorin would never harm Fíli. This logic was overridden, however, by the angry pounding drum in his head that said I won't let them do this over and over. He stood his ground, yanking his arm away from Dís's hesitant touch.

"Just give him some time," he said. "Wait until he wakes up. He might be fine then."

"And if he's not?" said Thorin evenly.

Kíli had no answer, but he was too stubborn to back down now. He stayed where he was, his arms held out, as Thorin took another step.

"Kíli, please," Dís pleaded, taking hold of his arm again. He tried to pull away from her, but this time, she held him tightly. Anger boiled up in him as he turned his head to shoot a glare in her direction.

"Let me go," he snapped.

Dís studied him hard for a moment, and then she shot a quick look at Thorin. Before Kíli could react, she had both his arms behind him and was pulling him away from the bed, and Thorin and Dwalin moved in and picked up the unconscious Fíli between them. Kíli let out a dismayed shout and fought against his mother's grip, but she held him tightly and he could not escape.

"You can't do this!" he shouted as Thorin and Dwalin left the room with his big brother. "It's not right! It's not right! You can't do this!"

"Stop it, Kíli!" said Dís. "You're being childish!"

"They're putting Fíli in jail, Mum!" he said thickly. "In jail!"

"They're keeping him safe," Dís said sternly. "Until we know what is wrong and if he is better, it's the safest place he can be." She turned him around and forced him to sit on the bed, keeping heavy pressure on his shoulders. He glared up at her sullenly; he knew better than to try to force his way out now. When she was sure that her son was cooperative, she released her hold and sat down next to him.

Suddenly Kíli's anger died away and he felt completely overwhelmed. He turned and buried his face into Dís's shoulder, and she wrapped her arms around him and rested her cheek on the top of his head.

"I don't understand," Kíli mumbled.

"What don't you understand?" said Dís.

"How this could happen," he said brokenly. "Fíli would…" He took a breath to steady himself. "He would never hurt me. Never."

"No, he wouldn't," said Dís.

Kíli sat up and looked into his mother's eyes; there was such compassion in her gaze that he almost lost his composure. He sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, squaring his shoulders. Now was not the time for crying.

"I need to go be with him," he said.

Dís's eyebrows drew together. "I don't know if that's a good idea," she said cautiously.

"Why not?" he said. "We don't know anything. What if he has nightmares? What if he wakes up alone in a jail cell and—" He pressed his lips together and shook his head. "No; I need to be there for him."

Dís sighed, but she nodded. "I won't stop you," she said. "Just promise me that you'll be wise. Be safe."

Kíli stood and kissed his mother's forehead. "I'll be wise," he promised. "I'm going to catch up to Uncle and Mister Dwalin."

Dís and Kíli exchanged halfhearted smiles, and Kíli ran out the door.

It was dark and silent inside the jail. There was a musty, earthy smell about, and the air held a damp chill often felt in underground places. The jail itself was not underground, but its walls were made of stone, and there had been no effort made to make sure the place was comfortable. Three cells lined one wall; two were empty, and in the one remaining slept Fíli.

Kíli leaned against the far wall, fuming. The only thing stopping him from running into the cell and sitting at his brother's side was a deeply ingrained respect for his elders. If it were up to him, Fíli would be at home in their bed, not on a pallet on the dirt floor. The injustice burned his heart and left a bad taste in his mouth.

In a chair by the cell sat Thorin, smoking his pipe and staring thoughtfully out into nothing. He had taken the first watch; then the duty would pass to Dwalin, and then Thorin would arrange for others if necessary. Kíli, however, was not included in the watch. Thorin had said he was "too emotional" for the task. He had not, however, barred Kíli from merely being present, and so he stayed, watching his brother closely for any signs of waking.

After a long time passed quietly between the two dwarves, Kíli finally decided to speak.

"How much longer will he sleep?"

Thorin's far-off stare returned to the present, and he turned his gaze to Kíli.

"Hm?"

"Fíli. How much longer until he wakes?"

Thorin pulled his pipe out of his mouth with a sigh and looked over at his elder nephew. "I do not know," he said. "I imagine he'll wake up soon. It's been hours."

"He isn't having nightmares," Kíli said. "Maybe he's all right now. Maybe we should—"

"He stays in here until we know for sure," said Thorin sharply, turning his deep blue gaze back on Kíli. They fought with their eyes for a few moments, and then Kíli slumped back against the wall and stared straight ahead, his head buzzing with frustration. Thorin returned to smoking his pipe.

A long time passed, and neither spoke. Thorin seemed perfectly comfortable, brooding quietly in his chair. Every minute of silence grated on Kíli more and more—he could barely stand it, but he would not leave until he saw his brother's eyes open. Until I know he's better. He tried to relax by smoking for a bit, but even that could not calm him. He was too restless.

Finally, Fíli stirred, and Kíli dropped his pipe. He dashed forward towards the cell, taking hold of the bars and peering down at his brother anxiously. Fíli sat up slowly, swaying and blinking and looking completely bewildered.

"Fí—" Kíli began, but Thorin grabbed his arm and he stopped. He looked to his uncle, perplexed; Thorin shook his head and put a finger to his lips.

"Let him get his bearings," he whispered.

Desperate as he was to make sure his brother was all right, Kíli obeyed, staring wide-eyed into the cell. As Fíli took notice of his surroundings, he seemed to grow alarmed; he looked to his left and his right quickly, and Kíli could hear his breathing quicken. It was a great struggle for the brunet to remain silent—his fingers tightened around the bars until his knuckles turned white, and a small, short whimper sounded from his throat. Fíli finally noticed his kin watching him, and he straightened, his eyes strangely dark even in the low light.

"You drugged me," he said. His voice was soft, but bitterness filtered through all the same.

Thorin nodded stoically. "How are you feeling?" he said, matching the softness in his elder nephew's tone, but his own voice was gentle.

Fíli merely glared at his uncle, and Kíli swallowed nervously. He's just angry, he told himself. I'd be angry, too. I'm sure he's better.

"W-what do you remember?" said Kíli. Fíli's eyes flicked over to him, and the look he gave was so foreign—so not Fíli—that Kíli took a step away from the cell, though he did not let go of the bars.

"I woke up and you were trying to hold me down," Fíli said. "Then your kin stopped me from escaping—locked me away in that room. And then I—I almost got away, and he drugged me." He nodded at Thorin with narrowed eyes. "Just let me go. I have nothing you need or want."

The more Fíli spoke, the lower Kíli's heart sank. He stepped closer to the cell again, not yet ready to give up.

"But surely you remember us," he said. "It's me, Fee. It's Kíli."

Fíli's brow furrowed, and he shook his head.

"I'm your Kíli," he whispered. "Think. Think back, before you awoke. What do you remember?"

"Kíli, be careful what you say," Thorin muttered, watching Fíli closely. The blond dwarf was shaking his head again, his expression one of complete befuddlement.

"Three days ago? We were at the creek, remember?" Kíli pressed. "You rescued me. You pulled me out of the creek."

"No," Fíli said with a small voice.

"Fee, come on—it's me. Remember when we—when we were kids? I saved you from an orc—chopped its head clean off.* Remember?"

"Stop," Fíli said quietly, taking his head in his hands.

"Or—or when we ruined Bofur's hat and we had to buy him a new one?"

"I don't know—"

"When we beat Mister Dwalin in training! It took the both of us, but we were so proud… surely you remember that!"

"Kíli, stop," said Thorin tersely as Fíli covered his ears, shaking his head violently now.

But Kíli did not listen. "You've got to remember," he said. "Just think! It's in there somewhere!"

"Shut up!" Fíli shouted. He ripped his trembling hands from his ears and pushed himself up, rushing at the bars of the cell and slamming his hands against them. Kíli stepped away, shocked into silence.

"Shut up! Just shut up! You sniveling little worm—you pathetic creature—I don't know you! Just leave me alone!"

Kíli opened his mouth and closed it again. He had no idea what to say. His heart pounded and his hands shook. This can't be happening. This isn't happening.

"Fíli…" Kíli tried to say, but he could make no sound past the lump in his throat.

"Look at you," Fíli snarled. "You're pathetic. Tears in your eyes and everything. Oh, if I weren't in this cell—"

"Kíli, go," Thorin said, rising to his feet. Kíli tried to obey, but he was rooted to the spot.

"I'd wring your skinny little neck," Fíli continued. "I'd love to just—"

"Enough!" Thorin roared. Both Fíli and Kíli jumped and looked to their uncle. "Not another word," Thorin said, pointing a finger at Fíli. The blond pushed off the bars and settled back on his pallet, glaring. Thorin turned to Kíli then and took hold of his face, turning him away from his brother.

"Kíli—go," he said. His voice was gentle, but it was a command. Kíli shook his head and tried to look at Fíli, but Thorin turned him back. He could feel a tear sliding down his cheek.

"We'll take care of this. We'll fix this—somehow. But for now—Kíli—go home."

Kíli took in a hitched breath and nodded. Pathetic. He wiped away the tears rolling down his cheeks, and Thorin let him go. Without another word, he ran out the door and did not stop running until he had reached home.

"Kíli? Kíli, what's the matter?" said Dís as he flew through the kitchen to his bedroom. He was fighting so hard to keep it together, but he could not stop the tears. He dropped onto his bed and wrapped his arms around the first pillow he touched, burying his face into it. It smelled like Fíli.

Pathetic. A muffled sob escaped him.

"Kíli?" said Dís; the mattress moved, and her fingers were suddenly in his hair. He shook his head and gripped the pillow tighter.

"Please go," he said.

Her fingers stopped, and her hand slid down to his back.

"What's happened?"

"Please, Mum!" Kíli choked out.

Dís was silent for a moment. Finally, with a gentle pat, she rose and left the room. As soon as the door clicked shut, a muted sob left his lips. Pathetic.

Whatever had happened to Fíli, his brother was gone. The dwarf with golden braids in that jail cell was not his Fíli.

Kíli cried for half the night and lay awake for the rest.

*You can read about this event in my fic A Brother's Promise!