Stan slept for the rest of the day and into the night. Shermie was concerned, but he was trying really hard to not freak out. They'd cleaned the burn, and the inflammation had started to die down ever so slightly. Ford was pretty confident that they'd be able to prevent infection, as long as they kept a close eye on it. Ford said that Stan had always had a really strong immune system, so he would be just fine.

Shermie knew that Ford was trying really hard to keep calm, and convincing himself that everything was fine and under control was his way of not freaking out. He would let Ford deceive himself until it couldn't be ignored anymore, but Shermie was a lot more pessimistic, because he didn't think this was just about the burn.

Shermie took his turn looking over the scout's book, and he found some very simple information about malnourishment, dehydration, and frostbite. While Ford went downstairs for some more blankets, Shermie carefully looked over his youngest brother.

While Stan was unconscious, it was hard to judge whether he was malnourished or not. His skin was flushed, and his heart rate was high, which could be because of the burn, but could also be a sign that he was dehydrated or sick. Ford had said that infection wouldn't set in this quickly, but Shermie was worried that his brother was sick because of another reason. Who knew what his life had been like before he'd come here.

Shermie took off Stan's shoes and felt his heart break when he saw that his brother wasn't wearing socks. His feet were full of blisters and calluses, and they stunk to high heaven. This wasn't normal foot smell, this was 'something's seriously wrong' foot smell. Shermie saw plantar warts all over the bottom of his feet, and many of them were scabbed over and some even looked infected. And then there was the start of frostbite on his toes. It wasn't too bad, but any little thing was a concern when it came to Stan.

Shermie put some of the antibiotic ointment on the worst of Stan's feet, and then he tucked his feet into the blanket, just to get started on getting them warmed up.

He wished his brother would wake up, just so he could figure out just what was going on with him. At the same time, he wished Ford would stop moving for five minutes and just let himself get some sleep.

Ford sat for just those few minutes at the start, and then he threw himself into helping Stan. Shermie appreciated it, because he didn't think he'd be able to do any of this without Ford's help, but for the past several hours they'd just been sitting around idly, having done all they could do. It was just a waiting game now. There was no reason why Ford shouldn't sleep, except for his apparent fear of it.

Sometime during the night, sometime close to dawn, Stan started shifting and whimpering in his sleep. Shermie put a hand on his brother's unhurt shoulder to keep him still. He didn't want his brother to roll over onto his burn. "Ley, you gotta hold still, okay? Just for a minute."

Stan grimaced in his sleep and shied away from his touch. Shermie was hurt and concerned about his brother.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Stan." Shermie said. "Can you wake up for me? Please?"

"Ge'off." Stan muttered. He tried to push himself up, but Shermie held him still. There was no reason why Stan couldn't move, but Shermie didn't want him to do it when he was half asleep and not fully aware of his injury. He could hurt himself. "Le-le'me go."

"I'm not letting you go." Shermie said. He tried to be comforting and reassuring, but Stan stiffened and tried to get away from him. Shermie sighed and sat on the bed, pulling his brother close. What was he supposed to do? "Stan, please, it's just me. It's Shermie."

"Stan?" Ford stepped into the room, blankets in his arms. He looked relieved. "Is he awake."

Stan stilled. His eyes eased open and he turned his head towards the door. "Ford?" His voice was full of desperation and longing. It shouldn't hurt, but it did. Stan had been burned by Ford, literally, but it sounded like he was the one he wanted. He didn't trust Shermie, shying away from him. Shermie didn't blame him, but it still hurt.

Ford came towards them. Shermie stepped aside to make room for him. Ford carefully helped Stan sit up, watching out for his shoulder. "Are you in pain? Is there something I can do? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"I'm fine." Stan said. He looked at Ford like he couldn't believe he was there. He looked at his twin for a long minute before he looked over his shoulder, freezing when he saw Shermie. "You're…I thought you were…I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it." Shermie sat at the edge of the bed. "I'm just glad to see you doing better." Now came the job of making sure Stan was okay.

Ford was still just worried about the burn. As far as he was concerned, nothing else was wrong. "Do you need some pain relief or something?" His hand lingered over Stan's shoulder. Stan rolled his eyes and swatted his hand away. He rolled his shoulder, only grimacing slightly.

"Nah, don't worry about it." Stan said. "I've had worse."

Ford looked just as horrified as Shermie felt, though he didn't know if it was for the exact same reason.

"C-can you not feel it?" Ford asked. "Were your nerves burned off?"

"How often have you trusted people who have hurt you?" Shermie asked quietly. Both of his brothers looked at him with wide eyes.

"I-it was an accident." Ford said.

"This is different." Stan said quickly. He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. "I-I hurt Ford first. This is just settling the score or something."

Ford looked like he was going to be sick. "You…Stanley! You don't honestly think that getting burned somehow makes up for what happened with West Coast Tech, do you?"

Stanley flinched and folded in on himself. He looked at Ford with wide eyes, and then glanced around the room, like he was looking for a way out. "W-what else did you want me to do?" Shermie would almost prefer his brothers started fighting again, throwing the blame at each other. It made him sick to hear his confidant, self-serving brother be so desperate to placate someone else. Shermie didn't even know if his brother was doing this because he was that desperate to have Ford back in his life and on his side, or if he was scared of being hurt again and was trying to placate the one he saw as a threat.

"Wha…nothing." Ford's eyes were slightly glazed. He was distancing himself from this. "I'm still mad at you, but that doesn't mean I hate you. It doesn't mean I want you to be hurt. You…you know that, don't you?" Stan was quiet for a long moment. Ford's hands were shaking again. "Don't you?!"

"I don't know what you want me to say." Stan said. "You haven't talked to me in ten years. I made one mistake, and you turned your back on me. The only reason you want me here now is because I could be useful to you, and I almost messed that up too." Stan closed his eyes and brought a hand towards his shoulder. "You probably saw that coming though, huh? You're the smart one. You had to know that the only thing I'm good at is screwing everything up."

Ford stared at Stan like it was the first time he was seeing him. He looked shocked and terrified. Shermie realized that this might be the first time that Ford had heard his twin talk about himself like that. After what Shermie had heard from Ford, he knew that this was a revelation, and probably an unwanted reminder of just how similar they were.

Ford didn't say anything, and Stan took that chance to continue. He let out a humorless laugh and put on that performer's smile that was so practiced, but still so easy to see through. "Y-you know, the smartest thing you've ever done was probably to cut me loose. Get rid of the dead weight before you get suffocated."

Ford made a choked sound, and both Shermie and Stan looked at him in alarm and concern. He had a hand pressed over his mouth as tears fell from his eyes. Ford was staring numbly ahead.

"I-I thought you were holding me down." Ford said more to himself than anything else. "I thought that you knew you would never reach my heights, and that you were too afraid of making it on your own to even try. And maybe…maybe that was part of it, but maybe you holding me down could have saved me from my own hubris."

"Hu-what?" Stan frowned. Shermie was frowning too. He wasn't very happy with Ford's language. As far as Shermie was concerned, Stan had never held Ford down. That implied that he was a burden, and something that was better to be gotten rid of.

"My sense of self-importance and pride." Ford clenched his fists. "I've considered myself a modern day Prometheus. Somebody who was destined to go down in history as being the person who changes the course of all man-kind." Ford scoffed and shook his head. "Instead I became the new Icarus."

Ford's eyes flashed and he looked to the side. "No, I'm worse than Icarus. He flew too close to the sun because he was exhilarated with the thrill. He was young, inexperienced, and thought that he was strong enough to overcome anything. His arrogance was his downfall. But I thought…I thought his demise was because he had reached the point of no return in his pursuit for higher achievements. He went so high that the thing that brought him that far couldn't take him any more. I thought that Icarus had a choice, to keep going on his own merit, to overcome this additional adversity, or to give up because it was too hard and let himself fall."

Ford buried his face in his hands. "Icarus' story should be a cautionary tale, to warn arrogant young fools from reaching too high. But what I took away from it was that I should fly even higher. I saw it as a sign that I was even better and more impressive than the person who is known for falling because he thought he knew best. What kind of a fool does that make me?"

Shermie and Stan sat there for a long moment, neither of them knowing what to say to their brother to make him feel better. Ford just sat there, getting lost in his own head. Stan took a deep breath and put a hand on his twin's arm. Ford stiffened and seemed to stop breathing for a long moment, but he sighed and slowly moved his hand, putting it on Stan's.

"You would have kept me from going too high." Ford said. "You've always grounded me, and I can't believe I saw it as a bad thing. You didn't want to be left behind, but I know you also didn't want me to hurt myself. I should've…I should have trusted you. You were the only person I could ever trust, and I let my ambition ruin that."

Stan blinked. "I don't get it. I thought you were mad at me and still blamed me."

"I do." Ford shook his head. "And it's just another thing that I hate myself for." He squeezed his eyes shut tight. "I've always been better when you're at my side, and I've always hated it." Stan flinched and tried to pull away from Ford, but he just tightened his grip on his hand. "I thought it was a character flaw, or a sign of my weakness. How could I prove my worth when I relied on my little brother? It wasn't your fault. It was never your fault, but I felt like it was, and a part of me still does, and I feel like such an idiot. I'm supposed to be logical, but I can't get past something as simple as conflicting thoughts."

Stan still looked confused. "So, you're mad but you don't want to be?"

"That is…a gross oversimplification." Ford said. "But something like that, yes."

Stan looked a little hesitant. "And if you're still mad at me, is it because I do something wrong, and I make you mad at me, or because it's just a you problem?"

Shermie narrowed his eyes at Stan. Ford just looked confused. "It's a me problem. Of course it is. My feelings aren't your responsibility."

Shermie would have rolled his eyes, because this was an uncharacteristic amount of emotional maturity from Ford. He knew it wouldn't last. Stan and Ford would be right back to fighting soon. Right now they were just too tired, and they were running on fumes. When they were well-rested and acting more like themselves. He wanted to ask Ford where this new attitude had suddenly come from, but there was something else he was worried about.

"Stanley, you didn't answer my question before." Shermie said gently but sternly. "Have you trusted people after they've hurt you?" Stan shifted uncomfortably, and Ford finally lowered his hands and looked at his twin. "And have they blamed you? Saying that they wouldn't have had to hurt you if you hadn't upset them?"

It was just a shot in the dark. Shermie didn't know if his brother had been hurt, but he was worried. He hadn't had any idea how Stan had been living these past several years, but he'd had nightmares. A fair amount of those horrible thoughts had been about Stan trusting the wrong person and getting hurt.

Stan tried to pretend otherwise, but he wore his heart on his sleeve. If people showed him kindness, he opened himself up to them, and Shermie had spent years worrying about worst-case scenarios.

Shermie wanted to be happy that Stan was putting his trust in Ford so easily after all that happened between them, but he was worried that this was a sign that his baby brother had done something similar to someone who had far more malicious intentions.

Stan bit his inner lip and wouldn't look Shermie in the eye. It was answer enough. Shermie just wished he knew the details of what Stan had been through, and if there were people still out there who might try to hurt him.

Shermie forced himself to refrain from interrogating his brother. Stan was looking okay now, but he had to be in pain, and was just doing his best to hide it. Now wasn't the time or place to figure out how he'd been hurt. Shermie needed to focus on making sure his injuries were taken care of. Stan had gotten sleep, but he needed food. And a bath. And a pair of socks.

"We'll talk about it later." Shermie said. He got up and grabbed the box of pizza, which still had four or so pieces in it. "Here. Eat something, and then we're going to get you cleaned up, because you're a mess. Do I even want to know when you last bathed?"

"...No, you don't." Stan said. He grabbed two of the slices, shoving half of them in his mouth. He practically moaned around the food. "Man, I can't remember the last time I had pizza this good." Shermie felt his heart pang. This was an average pizza from some place that Shermie had driven past. It was far from high end. If Stan had just gotten the cheapest of stuff these past ten years, any fresh pizza, no matter how cold it was, would be a luxury.

Ford was staring at Stan in confusion. He seemed to just be picking up on the little details about Stan that had been worrying Ford this whole time. "What has your life been like this whole time?"

Stan shrugged and stuffed his mouth with another bite of pizza. It was unclear if he was trying to avoid the question, or if he was just really hungry.

"We'll catch up later." Shermie said. He put his hand on Stan's arm, frowning when his brother cringed and pulled his food protectively closer, like he was worried that it was going to be taken from him. "Hey, we need to get you something to drink. And we've gotta get that burn looked at."

Stan nearly pouted. "It's fine."

"It won't stay that way if we don't keep an eye on it." Shermie said.

"Just let him have his way." Ford said. "Trust me, our big brother is stubborn. You're not going to beat him."

Stan rolled his eyes. "Fine." He got up, with Ford reluctantly letting him go. Stan stumbled a little, but Shermie caught him.

"Stay here and rest a bit." Shermie said to Ford. His brother opened his mouth, but Shermie didn't let him continue. "Don't go telling me you can't sleep. I don't want to hear it. You don't have to sleep if you don't want to, but you need to relax, okay? I'll take care of Stan."

"I don't need to be taken care of." Stan pouted as Shermie led him out.

"I've missed out on taking care of you for ten years." Shermie tightened his grip on his brother. "Just let me have this."

Stan gave him an odd look. "I thought you weren't going to take care of us anymore?"

Shermie's throat tightened. "I thought so too, and then my baby brother disappeared off the face of the earth. I'll spend the rest of my life taking care of you guys if it means I know you're okay." He adjusted his grip on Stan so the hold was more like a tight embrace. "You have no idea how worried about you I've been. I wish you'd just reached out to me."

Stan fidgeted in his hold. "I thought…you shouldn't have to clean up my messes."

Shermie shook his head. His brothers were so alike. "Ford said the same thing. Do you think I should leave him on his own too?" Stan quickly shook his head. "I thought so. Just let me take care of you, Stan."

His brother was still for a long time before he sighed and slumped against Shermie. "Just because I'm too sore and tired to fight you right now."

"I'll take it." Shermie said. "Let's get you cleaned up, and hope that Ford gets some sleep while we're gone. Trust me, he needs it." There were still a lot of things that they needed to figure out, and his brothers still needed a lot of help, but Shermie was hopeful that things would look up from here.

With all the disaster that had come today, there couldn't possibly be anything worse waiting for them.