Brady watched the backs of his friends disappear into the forest, carrying their laundry and quipping quietly. Gee never really shut up either, and he was already missing the constant banter as he was left with Adam, who looked to be half dead, and George, who was going to put himself into a coma with worry.

He turned back around to find said Worry Wort next to Adam, his constant mumbled prayers finally coming to an end as he brushed back Adam's hair. He grimaced under his touch, his eyes clenched shut against the morning light and still wound tightly in his sleeping bag. Brady thought he might sweat himself to death in there, but George hadn't made a fuss about it, and he wasn't about to disrespect George's intuition, even if it was so fun. Now wasn't the time, he decided.

"So," he said, trying to keep his voice low but not succeeding very well, "how does this normally go?"

"Adam has migraines early in the morning, I'm called to his house by Miss– . . . Erm, Violet, and we take him to the cellar," George admitted. Brady whistled and turned down to Adam.

"You have a cellar? Seems kind of morbid." He laughed but neither of the nobles humored him, their faces growing grim. "Then what?"

George ducked his head, but his expression was inscrutable. Finally, he looked up to Brady with a plea in his eyes.

"None of that is helpful here. We don't have a cellar, or a safe place to hide, or even a cold rag for his headache. I don't know what to do." The words didn't leave George's lips, but Brady heard them clear as day anyway – "I need your help." Brady let himself smile, but it was a pleasant one, instead of his usual smirk when he found a new angle to pester George. He wasn't savoring the view of Adam suffering any more than George was.

Admittedly, Brady didn't have any idea what to do either, but he found action a little more easily than George did. He unfastened his blue cloak from his shoulders and pulled it across his arm. Then, he knelt down beside Adam and covered their heads with it, creating a dark, moist cocoon between the ground and his cloak. Adam peaked an eye open as he felt Brady's breath break against his cheek, and he almost managed a smile.

"It's no underground cellar, but it's pretty close, huh?"

"Much warmer," Adam rasped. "Much wetter." Brady grinned, and he opened up the cloak to see George staring at them, almost in dismay. Then he recognized the blush over his cheeks.

"Georgie!" Brady cried. "Come on in! It's like a sauna." George hesitated, but then he ducked his head under his outreached arm, and they were plunged into darkness again.

"I fail to believe you've ever been to a sauna. And I don't see how this is helping."

"Well, look, his eyes are open now, that's something. One of us helped him without a cellar last time, and unless you can time travel, it's shaping up to be me." George glowered at him, but Brady was glad to see some of his normal attitude return. He'd been so lifeless all morning that it was freaking him out, and he didn't need to be looking after two corpses.

"What happened last time?" George asked sheepishly in the dark, and Brady thought back to that day in Adam's lab. He still didn't fully understand what had happened, but he could gather enough from George's floundering that it had been unusual. What else was there to do than keep Adam's eyes on his and hold him through the pain?

"Well, I opened this bottle, and he collapsed on the floor like a rag doll."

"I didn't–" Adam started, but Brady shushed him.

"Quiet, Rag Doll. He collapsed on the floor, and I got him to breathe with me, and I just sort of... hugged him the whole time? I mean, I tried not to get puked on, but that was more him than me." Even in the dark, he thought he saw George's face pale, but before the noble let him continue, he pulled his head back out of the cloak. Adam winced as the light flooded in, so George ordered Brady to follow him back to the outside world. He rose poles of stone to keep the cloak over the noble's head.

The cold air cooled the sweat off Brady's face, and it was much easier to see the exhaustion and worry in George's expression out here.

"You hugged him?" George asked. His disbelief confused him. "Nothing bad happened, he didn't hurt you?"

"No! Should I be worried about that?" But Brady remembered Adam's panic in the lab, the insistence that he run away and protect himself. He didn't believe that was anything more than a frightened boy trying to protect his friend, but apparently George held the same fear. Until last night, when they'd been quite literally fighting for their lives, he'd never even seen Adam take to anger, let alone violence. But George's fear concerned him.

"Excuse me," came a muffled voice from their side, and Brady turned to Adam's covered head. "I don't like that you're talking about me behind my back."

"Do you need an anatomy lesson? This is definitely not your back," Brady teased, lightly flicking Adam's chest through the bedroll. Still, he lifted a corner of the cloak to catch his eyes.

"George," Adam rasped, "I think it's better when I'm not restrained, I don't lash out. T- The voice in my head, it sounded happy that I wasn't chained up." Brady tried to keep the look of disgust off of his face as he listened, but the sudden image of Adam in shackles below his family's feet made his blood boil. Imagining George locking him up was almost as bad, but the second noble responded before he got the chance.

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"You never told me about a voice in your head." He sounded angry but his face was calm. "I'm sorry that you were restrained, but–"

"I'm not! And I'm not trying to scold you, it's just–" Adam hesitated, and he blinked his eyes rapidly in the dim light under the cloak– "I think you'll be safe. I just don't want to be alone." George looked away, and they sat in silence for several dragging moments. He didn't turn to face either of them when he responded.

"Someone needs to keep their head out, I don't want us to get snuck up on." He looked out into the forest, but he made no move to comfort Adam. "I hope you're right about this."

Is that so hard to believe? Your solution was locking him up, Brady bit back in his mind, but as he watched the frown crease over Adam's face, he buried his head under the cloak. He let it fall around them to cut off their view of the noble in the woods.

"Hey, sweaty," Brady teased, wiggling up against Adam's side and trying to smile. Adam didn't quite have George's feat for wiping away his emotions, but Brady watched him fight through his hurt confusion and smile back at him.

"And who's fault is that, for placing this musty cloak over my head?"

"As if it isn't the best thing I could've done," Brady smarted back, but Adam didn't respond. Instead, he adjusted himself subtly in his blankets and pushed his forehead against Brady's chest.

"Thank you for staying."

"Of course, Adam. Do you want me to distract you?" He felt Adam nod against his chest and so he let his voice ramble on softly in the confines of their cocoon, opening the cloak at odd intervals to let in cool air only when he knew Adam's eyes were pressed against his body. That went on for fifteen minutes before Adam started muttering more, twitching in pain. Finally, he asked Brady to quiet.

"It's getting worse," he whispered, and Brady felt his head push harder into his tiny chest. On the outside of the cloak, Brady kicked at where he thought George was sitting until he felt his boot collide with his side. George barked at him to knock it off, but he pulled up a corner of their cocoon a second later, his face split between concern and determination. Adam whined against his chest as George pulled out his pendant and began to cast something.

Suddenly, Adam pushed back from Brady and his eyes shot open. Where there was supposed to be white and irises was instead a swirling black film over his eyes, like a plume of smoke trapped in a small glass bottle. Between his own shock and fear, Brady watched Adam grasp blindly for his arms as he tried to tear himself free of his bedroll. The spell died on George's lips as they both surged forward, trying to put their hands on Adam.

"I can't see," he gasped, and Brady wanted to scream that that was obvious, his eyes were black holes. But that seemed unhelpful, so Brady let his hands cup Adam's cheeks as his eyes looked into nothingness.

"It's okay, we're right here. You're safe, Adam, you're safe," he soothed. George pulled on him gently.

"Your eyes are black, but we're still here. It's just your eyesight that's changed, dear." Brady thought telling Adam about his eyes becoming smoke was a bad call, but Adam turned his head toward George's voice and some of his terror eased. His arms were trembling as he held onto Brady. The sorcerer softly removed himself from his grasp and repositioned himself to lay Adam's head in his lap, stroking his oily black hair away from his forehead. The cloak fell away, since he was blind anyway, and George spoke softly as he drug his bag to his side.

"Brady is behind your head, I'm just to your left and I have my book with me. You're still pale, but that's normal for bad days and it looks the same as a few minutes ago. Something is wrong with your eyes, but they're still there, you just can't see, alright? I'm going to try some things, you let me know if it hurts or if I need to stop, just like always. We've been through this before, we'll get through it now. . . With extra help." George glanced up to Brady, but he kept his mouth zipped shut. Adam nodded weakly in his lap, but now that the seal had broken and Adam had entered whatever stage of his episode this was, he seemed to have a little more energy. George's counseling, while reminding Brady of the hospital and making him shiver, was easing Adam's panic, and his hand moved shakily to find one of Brady's. The sorcerer helped him find it and let them rest by Adam's head.

George tried waving his hand in front of his eyes, trying to get Adam to flinch or blink or show any sign that he could see. Instead, he stayed perfectly still in Brady's lap and asked if something had happened yet, over and over. At odd intervals, his breath would quicken and he'd squeeze Brady's hand tighter, but then he would lean down close to Adam's ear and softly describe the area around them. There're pine trees, and sunlight on your sleeping bag. The fire is put out and George is holding his book, looking like a nerd. I look incredibly handsome and attractive. Adam would huff out a laugh and settle down as George ran through his list of tests.

Finally, after summoning a small light on his fingertip and determining Adam couldn't even see that, George sat back and closed his book.

"You're an excellent patient like always, Mister Hesler," George said in a silly voice, like he was thirty years older than he was now as he set a hand on Adam's chest. "I've elected to skip your usual blood work, seeing as we're in the middle of the forest and I've left my gloves at home."

"Your stupid gloves," Adam muttered, and he started to smile until it died on his lips. "He wouldn't blind me if he needs my help, right?" George and Brady shared a nervous look.

"You think your dad did this?" Brady asked, but he kept his tone light, like he was asking him which type of bread to buy at the market. Adam began to squeeze his hand tighter.

"Call it an educated guess. What's around us?" Brady rattled off his usual list, but Adam continued to tremble in his lap. "Tell me again." Brady did, but Adam seemed to not hear him.

"Adam, what do you see?" George asked, and Brady wanted to shout at him that he'd said that fifty times over the last few minutes. The answer was always 'nothing', but Adam bit his lip.

"The owlbear," he stuttered, and Brady thought his fingers might fall off from being squeezed so hard. "And– . . . I can hear something. Whispering. It hurts."

"Don't listen to it, Adam," George said sternly. He looked almost as concerned as the blinded noble.

"Why not?" George looked up to Brady with a furrowed brow and fire behind his eyes.

"Because I said so! Because it's his father trying to invade his mind."

"Last time this happened, he listened, and we figured out that the world was going to end. Maybe he's supposed to listen."

"Obedience . . ." Adam mused, but he sounded sort of like he was asleep, a dreamy lilt to his voice. Then he threw back his head and screamed.