A/N: Sorry this took so long. The length should make up for it. Thanks to my tumblr buddy madammadhatter for basically being my muse... you're fabulous, darling. And she was my beta. She's awesome.

For a long time, Kíli merely sat and held Fíli close in silence. His thoughts turned constantly to the surely burst stitches on his brother's stomach, but he would not move while Fíli rested comfortably against him; some part of him knew that his brother was drawing more from him than just physical comfort. He had been left in the darkness, alone and afraid, for nigh on three weeks now, and he had finally found what he had been searching for all that time. Kíli would not take that away.

Eventually Fíli fell asleep in Kíli's arms, and Kíli's attention was caught up in the offensive smell of sick that was far too close. He looked down at the mess of blond hair covering his brother's face and twisted his mouth; he would have to carry him if he wanted to get him back to his bed. He wasn't going to wake him—he wasn't even sure if he could. A twinge of discomfort ran through him, but if he was going to get rid of the stench of sick, he was going to have to do something. He wrapped one arm around his brother's torso and slid the other under his knees. Awkwardly he lifted him, almost falling but catching himself just in time; then he carried Fíli to his bed and laid him down as gently as he could. Fíli remained unconscious.

Kíli sat down next to his brother and smoothed the hair out of his face. His temples were warm; Kíli was not expert, but he was fairly sure that Fíli's temperature was higher than was healthy. Still, Goldberry had said to trust her healing ability, and given what she and Tom had already done, he would be faithless not to.

"You'll be fine," he whispered.

Now for the mess. Kíli stood and looked about the room for anything that he could use to clean it up, but he saw nothing. He ventured down the hall, peering into rooms and searching for either cleaning supplies or Tom or Goldberry, but he did not find anything—or anyone—he was looking for. He felt like a sneak. Eventually he reached the kitchen and searched the cabinets for some kind of rag.

"Ho, there!" called a familiar cheerful voice. Kíli whirled around, heat creeping into his cheeks; Tom stood in the entryway, as ruddy and chipper as ever.

"I-I was looking for cleaning supplies," Kíli said. "Fíli, he—he threw up. I was going to clean it…"

"Ah! Don't worry, Master Kíli—I will take care of that," said Tom with a laugh. "Tell me, how is your brother faring?"

"Uh…" Kíli said, rubbing the back of his neck. "He's… well, he's himself again. At least, he knows who he is. He knows who I am."

Tom smiled but said nothing; Kíli blinked and continued.

"But he knows what he's done, too," he said. "He remembers—he remembers everything. And he's done so much… I wish he didn't remember."

Tom pulled out a chair from the small table in the kitchen and motioned for Kíli to sit, his kindly eyes shining with compassion.

"You have a lot to say, my friend," he said. "Sit with me a while and eat and tell me about your road."

"But Fíli—"

"My Goldberry will take care of Master Fíli," said Tom. He gestured to the chair again.

"I… I will tell you—I will—but I don't know when Fíli will wake," Kíli said, backing up and blushing again at his own bad manners. "I have to be there when he wakes. I don't want him to think I've left him."

Tom nodded graciously, never losing an ounce of cheer. "I understand," he said. "Let us go and see him."

Kíli and Tom went together back down to the guest room that had been set up for the two dwarves; Fíli was still asleep on his bed in the corner, and the puddle of sick remained in the other corner. Kíli grimaced at the offensive odor as he entered the room and took a seat at his brother's side. Tom left the room for a minute and returned with rags and a mop; he cleaned up Fíli's mess, singing nonsense to himself in the meantime. Kíli could not help but smile at the many choruses of ring-a-ding-dillo and hey, Bombadillo!

"How is he faring?" Tom said finally as he finished his chore. Kíli looked up at his host.

"I don't know," he said. "I don't know how to…" he trailed off, wincing. "I don't know how to take care of him. I don't know how to take care of anybody."

Tom clapped a hand on Kíli's back and smiled warmly. "You brought him all the way here," he said. "It seems you know more than you think."

Kíli blinked rapidly and looked back down at his brother. He had gotten Fíli all the way here, but he had done a poor job of it. Without Tom and Goldberry's help, Fíli would be either dead or on death's door. It was his fault that Fíli had gotten stabbed. If he had only listened to Thorin…

"Do not regret the decisions you have made that brought you here," Tom said. "You saved his life."

"It was my fault, though," Kíli said, his voice suddenly thick. "If it weren't for me, this never would have happened. I made him angry, and he ran off, and then he didn't come back… and then everything that happened after that... If I had just—"

"Life is full of ifs," Tom said. "Do not fret over the past. What is done is done, and now your brother is on the mend. Think on that."

Kíli nodded faintly and sniffed. Tom patted his shoulder gently.

"His stitches," Kíli said suddenly. "I think he popped them. He tried to run from me…"

"We'll get him mended in a jiffy!" Tom said, bounding to his feet much quicker than a man of his size should have been able. "I will return with my Goldberry." Tom skipped off, his song ringing down the hallway. Kíli took Fíli's hand and watched him sleep.

Eventually Kíli heard the sound of Goldberry's clear singing; her voice was as sweet and calming as a bubbling brook, and Tom's rich voice blended with hers in a beautiful harmony. Kíli smiled despite himself. Their singing came closer, and Kíli shook Fíli gently, feeling guilty for waking him so soon. Surprisingly, Fíli awoke quickly with a groan.

"Hey," Kíli said. "I want you to meet our hosts."

Fíli's eyes widened as he looked from Kíli to his surroundings. He shrank into the bed and shook his head.

"No, no, I don't want to meet anyone—"

"Relax, Fee," Kíli said. "They saved your life. They brought you back."

Fíli looked unsure, but did not have time to protest again, for at that very moment Goldberry entered the room. Fíli looked up at her with nervous eyes, and she smiled at him; he turned his gaze to Kíli, who nodded reassuringly. Fíli's gaze returned to the tall woman standing before him.

"I am Goldberry," she said. "Welcome, Fíli."

"Hello," said Fíli meekly.

"My husband tells me that your stitches have come undone," Goldberry continued. "May I have a look?"

"Stitches?" Fíli said, furrowing his brow. He looked down at his stomach.

"You were asleep," Kíli said. "Let her fix them for you."

Fíli's eyes darted from Goldberry to Kíli to his bandaged torso. He nodded slowly, and Goldberry sat down gracefully at his side.

"Would you like something so you don't feel it?" she said.

"Will it make me tired again?" Fíli replied.

"Yes, but the pain will be less."

Fíli shook his head, looking at Kíli. "I don't want to sleep again. I want to be awake."

Goldberry smiled affectionately at Fíli. "You are brave," she said. "I will be gentle."

Kíli took Fíli's hand again and sat quietly as Goldberry began to work. Fíli watched his face with sad eyes. He winced and squeezed Kíli's hand as the needle went into his skin.

"You all right?" Kíli said.

"N-no," Fíli huffed, squeezing Kíli's hand again. "No, I'm-m—ha-ah—not all right."

"She can give you something for the pain," Kíli offered.

"No, that's n-not the problem—I can take this," Fíli said. "I'm just—not a-all right."

Kíli frowned as he looked into his brother's tortured eyes. Fíli had always been determined to feel guilty about anything that went wrong, and Kíli had never had any idea how to stop him. He placed his other hand on top of Fíli's and held on tightly.

"No one is going to hold it against you," he said. "I know I don't."

"You don't know that," said Fíli, his eyes swimming with fresh tears. "Ki-ili, what I've done—"

"Stop," Kíli said. Fíli snapped his jaw shut, and his chin trembled; he winced as the needle went into his skin again, and a tear escaped down the side of his face. His fingernails dug into Kíli's palm, but Kíli ignored it.

"There," said Goldberry; Kíli heard the snip of scissors, and Fíli sank into his pillow and closed his eyes. Kíli rubbed his thumb against the back of his brother's hand.

"Lift him up, Kíli, and I'll wrap him up again."

Kíli let go of Fíli's hand and leaned forward, wrapping his arms around his brother. He lifted him up, and Fíli gasped, latching on to Kíli and dropping his nose into the crook of his little brother's neck. Goldberry wrapped him up quickly and wordlessly left the brothers in privacy. Fíli would not let go.

"I'm sorry, Fee," he whispered. "I'm sorry for everything." Fíli started to shake his head, but Kíli spoke again. "If I hadn't been so foolish, none of this would have happened. This is all my fault."

"But Kíli—"

"You can't blame yourself this time, Fíli," Kíli said. "I won't let you. You did nothing wrong."

Fíli pulled back at those words and looked at Kíli incredulously. "Kíli, you can't be serious," he said.

"I am," Kíli said. "Fíli, I don't care what you did when you—when you couldn't remember. That wasn't you. You wouldn't do that."

"But I did," said Fíli wretchedly. "I remember it, Kíli—I remember h-hitting you—and h-holding you in the water—" He stopped and bowed his head, breathing raggedly, and grabbed onto his hair. "I remember I wanted you to die. I wanted you to leave me alone and I didn't care how that happened."

Kíli was silent for a moment. He remembered it, too, and it was not something that he wanted to dwell on.

"You wouldn't do that, though," he repeated. "Not you."

"Kíli, it was me!" Fíli shouted. He looked up at Kíli with wild eyes. "Can't you see that? How do you know I'm not capable of—of that—how do you know that hasn't been in me this whole time?"

Kíli opened and closed his mouth, searching for words and finding none.

"I just know," he said finally.

Fíli cast him a skeptical look. "How do you know? How could you know?"

"Because you wouldn't let me die," Kíli said.

Fíli looked at his brother in utter confusion.

"Remember when I was sick?" Kíli continued. "I was so tired of fighting—I was so tired of living. Fíli, you don't know how much it hurt, how hard it was just to breathe. I couldn't do it anymore. I gave up. But you wouldn't let me. You didn't let me die, and you were so angry that I had given up… that is you. Not whatever you did in the past few weeks. That—before—is the Fíli I know. The real Fíli."

Fíli stared at Kíli, his eyes shining with unshed tears. Kíli took a deep breath and sighed; he clearly wasn't getting anywhere. He pulled Fíli into another hug, and his brother melted into him.

"It'll be all right," he said quietly. Fíli did not respond; he simply buried his face in his brother's shoulder and took a deep breath. Then he froze.

"Kíli, you stink," he said.

Kíli guffawed and pulled back. A sheepish grin graced his brother's face.

"I stink?" he retorted. "I'm not the only one! You should smell yourself!"

"I think I have," Fíli said. He frowned. "I don't suppose I could bathe with these stitches."

"Probably not," Kíli agreed. "But I'm sure you could clean up a little. I'll ask. You stay here."

"I'm not going anywhere," Fíli said as Kíli jumped up and left the room. Kíli grinned; Fíli's sheepish humor wasn't much, but it was better than guilt and tears. He found Tom and Goldberry in the kitchen, preparing breakfast together; they moved about each other with grace, and for a moment, Kíli stopped and watched them. Their song was beautiful, and though they were simply moving about, it almost seemed as if they were doing some kind of dance, so lively were their steps. Goldberry noticed him watching and stopped, smiling down at him joyfully.

"What can we do for you, Kíli?" she said.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but Fíli wanted to wash up," he said, suddenly feeling self-conscious under her gaze.

"Of course," said Tom, stopping beside his wife. "We will bring him everything he needs."

Kíli shuffled his feet, feeling out-of-place. "Should I help?"

"Do not worry about anything while you are here, young master Kíli," said Tom. "Tom and Goldberry are happy to take care of anyone who needs to stay under their roof."

"All right. Thank you," Kíli said, feeling a flood of relief run through him. If these two were happy to care for his brother, he had far less reason to worry. They certainly knew what they were doing more than he did. He ran back to his brother and sat down again at his side; Fíli was sitting back with his eyes closed, his face set in a grimace.

"You all right?" Kíli said.

"Is that really a question?" Fíli said, keeping his eyes shut tight. Kíli sighed.

"They're bringing things so you can wash up," he said. "Do you need help?"

Fíli finally opened his eyes and looked at Kíli. He bit his lip.

"You're sure I can't just take a bath?" he said.

"Not for a couple of days," said Tom, entering the room with a large basin of hot water. Towels and cloths hung over his arm with a bar of soap and a comb perched precariously on top; however, even with Tom's jaunty movements, nothing fell from his hands. Fíli started at the intrusion and immediately grabbed Kíli's arm, and Kíli laid a hand over his brother's reassuringly.

"It's just Tom Bombadil," he said. "No need to worry."

"Hello, young master Fíli!" Tom exclaimed, setting down his burdens. Fíli swallowed and tightened his grip on Kíli's arm as Tom came closer. He stopped, watching Fíli's face for a moment; then he smiled and took a step back.

"You have nothing to fear in the house of Tom Bombadil," he said. "Especially not Tom himself! But I will leave you to wash up. Be merry, Master Fíli! You are well cared for."

Fíli said nothing; he merely nodded. Tom smiled again and skipped off, singing nonsense to himself. As he retreated, Fíli's iron grip on his brother's arm loosened, and Kíli hopped up to bring the basin closer to the bed. A smaller bowl floated on top of the water; he pulled it out and set it aside.

"Really, Fíli, you don't need to be afraid of him," he said. "He's really nice. Odd… but nice."

Fíli buried his face in his hands and groaned. "I'm sorry," he said. "I just… don't want to meet new people. Not now."

"They're our hosts," Kíli protested, pulling Fíli up into a sitting position. He handed Fíli a cloth and the soap. "They saved your life, Fíli."

"Didn't feel like it at the time," Fíli muttered.

"Well, if you recall, you also thought I was trying to hurt you," Kíli said. "And that wasn't true, either."

Fíli sighed and dropped his hands into his lap. Kíli grimaced. Good job. You didn't have to remind him.

"Sorry," he said. "Here, I'll tie your hair back for you."

"Thanks," Fíli said quietly, avoiding Kíli's eye. Kíli pulled the mess of Fíli's hair back and tied it with a piece of string from his bag, and Fíli started to wash his face. He scrubbed at his arms and chest next, and Kíli sat back and let him clean up, dipping his hands into the water and washing his own face. As he dried his face and hair, he thought he heard a small whimper, and he looked up, but Fíli was simply scrubbing his hands meticulously. Kíli watched him; as he continued to scrub at his hands, his face grew more and more distressed, and he whimpered again. He was focused now, rubbing so hard at his hands that they were turning bright red. Another whimper, and Kíli realized what was happening.

"Fíli, stop it!" he cried, diving onto the bed and taking hold of his brother's wrists. Fíli flinched and looked down, pulling his knees up and fighting to control his breathing. He pulled at Kíli's grip, but Kíli held tight. He ducked his head, trying to catch Fíli's eye, but Fíli would only look down.

"Fíli," Kíli said, but he did not know what to say next. Fíli pulled at his grip again, but Kíli did not let go. Fíli's fingers curled up into fists.

"It's all right," said Kíli gently, feeling as if he were attempting to calm a wounded animal. "It's all right now. You're all right. We're all right."

"I'm not all right," Fíli said. "I'm not, I'm—"

"Fíli, listen to me," Kíli said. "I'm here. I'm still here. You didn't kill me."

"You don't understand—you don't understand," Fíli whispered, shaking his head.

Kíli sighed and eyed his brother sadly. No, he didn't understand. But he could not simply let his brother wallow in guilt he did not deserve to have. For now, if he couldn't convince him, he could at least distract him.

"Come on, Fíli," he said. "I'll wash your hair, and then we can put new braids in it. That'll make you feel better, right?"

Fíli looked up slowly; he considered for a moment and then nodded. Kíli smiled sadly and let go of his brother's wrists; the elder dwarf drew his arms in and wrapped them around himself. Kíli drew the basin to the edge of the bed.

"Can you lean over, Fee?" he said.

"I wish I could take a bath," Fíli grumbled, slowly pulling himself to his knees. He grunted and grimaced as he knelt over, and Kíli laid a hand on his shoulder, but he shook his head.

"I'm fine," he said.

"Are you sure?"

"I'll be fine."

Kíli took that as his cue to begin. He untied the string wrapped around his brother's dull waves and pulled loose the loose braids that barely stayed in place. He grabbed the bowl he had set aside earlier and filled it with water; then he poured it over his brother's head. Fíli's shoulders relaxed as the water ran over him, and Kíli smiled as he carried on. He raked his fingers through the tangles, pulling them out as gently as he could, and then he rubbed in the soap. Fíli made no sound as his little brother worked.

"It was so strange, seeing you with your hair a mess," he said before he could stop himself. He winced.

"I didn't particularly care," Fíli replied. "I was more concerned with… other things."

Kíli paused. Should he ask?

"What other things?" he asked.

"Keeping myself safe," said Fíli. His breath hitched, and Kíli stayed his movements, concerned.

"You don't have to—"

"No, I have to," Fíli said with a wavering voice. "I have to explain."

Kíli pressed his lips together. "All right," he said, continuing to wash his brother's hair. "I'm listening."

"I was afraid—really afraid," Fíli said. "And I thought everyone was just there to torment me. I didn't know who I was or how I got there, and I just wanted to get out."

"Where would you have gone?" Kíli asked. He poured water through his brother's golden waves; dirty, soapy water flowed into the basin on the floor.

"I don't know," said Fíli. "I wasn't thinking that far. I was so convinced that everyone was lying to me—that you were going to do something horrible to me. I didn't know what or why. I thought…" He trailed off into silence, and Kíli said nothing. He finished rinsing Fíli's hair and wrapped a towel around it.

"Here, sit up," he said, wrapping his arms around his brother's torso and pulling him upright. Fíli groaned and laid a hand over his bandages, pulling his legs out from beneath him and crossing them. Kíli scooted behind him and pulled the towel off his head, rubbing it through Fíli's hair. Although it was still damp, it already shone much brighter than before. Kíli smiled. He reached for the comb Tom had left and started working on the tangles in his brother's hair.

"What did you think?" he said.

"I don't know," Fíli replied. "I felt… angry. I didn't know why. I was just so angry all the time. But especially when I saw you."

Kíli furrowed his brow as he worked on a particularly stubborn knot. "When you saw me?"

"It all seems so foolish now," Fíli said. "But I didn't know who you were, and you were the first person I saw when I woke up—it was like there was all this rage inside me, and I couldn't remember why, but something in me kept telling me that it was your fault."

Something in Kíli's stomach dropped, and he paused for a moment and bit his lip. Your fault.

"It's not your fault, Kíli," Fíli said, turning suddenly. His eyes were wide. "It wasn't—none of this was your fault— "

"But it was," Kíli whispered.

Fíli grabbed hold of Kíli's wrist and looked him fiercely in the eyes. "It was not your fault, Kíli," he said. "You did nothing to me. It was that—that thing…" He closed his eyes, and his grip tightened on his brother's wrist. "If you had seen it—"

"I did," Kíli interrupted.

Fíli blinked and furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"You didn't know?" Kíli said. "I thought you would have known… that time I came to see you and I couldn't remember why you were there. It got me too. I went back to the cave for answers—or help, I don't know—and it attacked me."

Fíli stared at his little brother in horror, still holding his wrist tightly.

"Why would you do that?" he said.

"No one knew what to do, Fee," Kíli said. "Thorin was just sitting around, as if something would happen if we just waited long enough—"

"And you took matters into your own hands," Fíli said. He looked down and huffed, a small smile upon his face. "I guess I wouldn't expect any less out of you."

"I just needed you back," Kíli mumbled. "I don't feel right when you're not around."

Fíli looked up at him suddenly, his face crossed with confusion. "Wait, if you got attacked too, why weren't you—like me?" he asked.

"I had Gimli with me," said Kíli. "He attacked it… but I was still so afraid, I couldn't even remember anyone at first… it took me almost a day to remember Thorin. It took longer to remember you, and what had happened to you." He took a deep breath. "Fíli, I know none of this was your fault. I remember what it was like. It was terrifying enough for me—I can't imagine what it was like for you."

"But the anger I felt… did you feel that, too?" said Fíli, searching his brother's eyes.

Kíli shook his head.

"Then how do you know that's not just me?" he said. "That I didn't just want to do all that?"

"Fíli, it wasn't you," Kíli said firmly. "Do you want to do any of that now?"

"Of course not," Fíli replied immediately.

"There you have it," Kíli said. "I don't know why you were like that. Maybe it's because you were angry already when you were attacked. But I cannot believe you would have wanted that, had you known who I was. I will not. Now stop this. Let me finish your hair."

Fíli huffed and turned back around, and Kíli continued combing his hair in silence. When he had finished, he scooted to Fíli's side and started sectioning off his hair for braids. Fíli batted his hand away.

"I can do my own braids, Kíli," he protested.

"So?" Kíli said. "Do your mustache, then. I want to do this."

"Only if I can do yours after," Fíli said. Kíli stopped and looked at him with narrowed eyes; a sly grin sat on Fíli's face. He chuckled.

"Not a chance," he said. "You'd have to catch me first."

Fíli put on a feigned hurt expression. "Now, that's unfair!" he said. "I've been stabbed by an orc, and you're going to make me chase you?"

The smile dropped from Kíli's face as quickly as it had come, and Fíli's eyes grew wide.

"I'm sorry, Kíli," he said hastily. "I didn't mean to—"

"It's all right," Kíli said. He offered his brother a wan smile. "It's fine. Don't worry about it."

Fíli slumped over, sighing, and Kíli silently started working on his braids. After a minute, Fíli pulled the beads out of his mustache and re-braided it quickly and efficiently. He snapped the beads back into place just as Kíli moved to his other side.

"Thank you, Kíli," said Fíli.

"What for?" Kíli replied.

"For not giving up on me," Fíli said. "No matter what I said or did—you saved me, Kíli. Thank you."

Kíli bit his lip and finished the last braid in Fíli's hair. He supposed that in the end, he hadn't given up, but the days following his near-drowning replayed in his mind. He didn't have to tell Fíli about that. He had faltered in his faith, but he had followed through—and he had Fíli back. That was what mattered.

"I'm done," he said. "Do you want to see?"

"Sure," Fíli said.

Kíli searched the room for a hand mirror and found one in the drawer of a dresser at the far side of the room. He returned and held it before his brother.

Fíli started when he saw himself in the mirror, staring intently at his own image. He touched the neat braids in his hair hesitantly, as if he was not sure they were there at all; then a smile graced his face.

"I thought I'd look…" Fíli said, trailing off.

"Different?"

Fíli nodded.

"You're still you, Fee," Kíli said. "The same brother I've always had."

Fíli's lip trembled as he nodded again, but he was still smiling.