Thanks to BabyCharmander for being my beta reader!

The first thing Razputin did after the whole Maligula incident was to write up his first official Psychonaut Mission Report, while it was all still fresh in his mind.

The second thing he did was have a hearty meal and go directly to bed. After all, he'd eaten nothing but psi-pops and granola bars for the last three days, and had really only slept on the plane to the Rhombus of Ruin. Despite his insistence that he'd be ready for action the next day, Milla had shot that idea down in no uncertain terms, telling him to take some time off – "That's an order, Agent Aquato," had been her exact words when he'd tried to push back, and who was he to argue with an order from Agent Vodello?

Which was probably for the best, it turned out, when he woke up in his dorm at… what time even was it? He looked at the clock, and was not prepared for the way his vision lagged and swam. At any rate, he'd apparently slept until four in the afternoon. And he felt like garbage.

In hindsight, kissing Lili while she was recovering from a head cold was probably a bad idea. Worth it, he managed to think through a brain that felt like molasses. Molasses that was being hit with a hammer, repeatedly.

It took Raz a bit longer than it should have to put together that the other pain, in his stomach, was probably hunger. It was, after all, four in the afternoon. Ugh, he'd have to get up to get food – and worse, the very idea of food sounded awful. And then he realized that he'd need to get dressed in order to go get food, unless he wanted everybody in the Motherlobe to see him in his pajamas.

For a boy who had just saved the world twice, this sounded surprisingly insurmountable. He cringed; he was a Psychonaut. He should be able to handle a little thing like getting up, getting dressed, and walking to the cafeteria, even if he was sick. He'd just have to push through.

Raz sat up and immediately regretted it as the pounding in his head intensified. It only got worse when he started coughing, and now not only was he being hit on the head with a hammer, but he'd also apparently swallowed razor blades. Still, he summoned all his willpower, and forced himself out of bed and started to walk toward the dresser. He made it about halfway before his vision started to go dark; he lay down on the floor to avoid passing out, trying to make the world stop spinning around him.

Naturally, that was when he heard a soft knocking at his door and a gentle voice. "Razputin, darling, are you awake?"

He tried to answer, but all that came out was a wild fit of phlegmy coughing. The door opened, and Raz wanted to vanish from sight in sheer embarrassment. Actually, that wasn't a bad idea; he tried to turn himself invisible, but his sickness-addled brain wasn't up to the task. So now he was on the floor, in his pajamas, looking pathetic in front of Agent Vodello. Wonderful.

"Oh, poor thing, are you sick?" she cooed, kneeling over him and pressing a hand to his forehead. "You're running a fever." Milla scooped him up and carried him to bed, where she telekinetically tucked him in.

Raz sniffled – it was probably only a matter of time before he would have to breathe through his mouth, given how quickly his nose was stuffing up. He started trying to thank Milla, but immediately started coughing again.

"Rest your voice, queridinho. Use telepathy, if you can."

«Thank you, Agent Vodello.»

"Of course, darling. Is there anything I can do for you? Would you like some soup?"

He hesitated. The selfless (and proud) part of him didn't want to burden one of his idols with caring for him. But at the same time, the selfish part loved the idea of being tended by his heroes. After a moment, he gave in, and nodded. Milla brushed his hair out of his face with her hand, patted him softly on the head, and then levitated out of the room.

When she returned, there was then a brief flurry of activity followed by a whole lot of nothing. Milla took his temperature, frowning and tutting quietly as she looked at the thermometer, then gave him a bowl of hot soup and some medicine. And then she told him to rest, so he did. But there was only so much time he could spend actually sleeping.

Razputin hadn't intended to really think hard about everything that had happened over the last few days – not while he was still just ten. But it wasn't like he had anything else to do while sick in bed besides read True Psychic Tales, and even he needed a break after several consecutive issues. So he ended up thinking about it all anyway.

First, he thought about Nona. She had done terrible things as Maligula, and she wasn't who he'd thought she was – or was she? She may not have been his father's mother, but she was still the same Nona he'd grown up with. All of his memories with her were real, though he couldn't say the same of his father. And as for what she'd done as Maligula…

He wouldn't say it wasn't her fault. She'd killed people, though he couldn't say how willingly – the dam burst was definitely unintentional, but after that… At the same time, her mind had been fragile, and she'd been used, manipulated. Things had gotten out of hand, but it was so long ago, and she clearly regretted it. He wanted to forgive her.

Then he thought about Cruller. He knew he would never admire him as he once had. That was gone and could not be recovered. But maybe he could still forgive him, more or less. There had, after all, been no malice in what Ford had done. It was horrible and wrong, but it was never meant to hurt people; he'd been trying to salvage a terrible situation. Yes, it was wrong. But Raz had forgiven Oleander, whose actions had been taken out of malice. And the Psychonauts forgave Forsythe for what she'd done – and she in turn had forgiven him for the same thing, what he'd done to her. A horrible, wrong decision, but not made out of malice – was his mistake really so different from Ford's? And if he'd already decided to forgive Nona…

Yes, Razputin decided he wanted to forgive them both.

But the heart does not always follow the whims of the mind. It continues to feel emotions whether one thinks they should or not. And so in his heart, despite his choice, resentment and anger continued to stew. But now he felt bad about it, because he was trying to let those feelings go. And thus began a horrible feedback loop of negative emotions.