Ah :) You know, I actually rather like the first bit here. The ending isn't so great, but I had to end it someway. Hope you enjoy, please review at the end x

Siegfried slipped silently into his younger brother's room. Tristan lay in the bed, eyes shut. The older man smiled a little – he looked so young, so like he did when they were teenagers. Except now he could clearly see stitches in his forehead, and a lightly bandaged left hand.

Slowly, deliberately, he moved over to the bed.

"Oh, Tristan," he sighed, shaking his head a little as he stood looking at him. He looked furtively towards the door, before sitting himself lightly on the side of the bed. He placed a hand on top of Tristan's good one, looking, a little sadly, at his face, and slowly stroked it with his thumb.

"Tristan, Tristan, Tristan." He shook his head again, and his eyes settled on his knees.

"You know, little brother, I have actually come to expect this of you?" He was met with silence. "I'll admit, this is probably the worst thing you've done, but you've done things in the same vein."

Siegfried looked at his brother's face again. Unresponsive. Unconscious. He sighed again, and looked once more towards the door, before returning his gaze.

"I do care about you, you know," he said quietly. "You are my brother, after all, my littlebrother. It's my job to look after you, but I do wish you wouldn't make it so all-encompassing. I have other things to worry myself with, you know."


His eyes prickled, so he looked instead up to the ceiling as he continued.

"I do care about you," he said, again. "And if you continue doing these stupid, ridiculous -"


Siegfried leapt up, blinking away tears rapidly, turning on his heel so that he faced his brother again, who was now propped up on his good arm, looking at him blearily.

"Siegfried?" Tristan said, again, less confused this time.

"Ah, Tristan. So good of you to join us. I suppose you realise what you've done?"

Tristan sighed and frowned, biting his lip. "So I crashed the car. I didn't mean to, Siegfried, I'm sorry. Don't you think I regret it?"

Siegfried lowered his chin to his chest, looking at the younger man in apparent disapproval. "Evidently not. You have been lyinghere a full" - he checked his watch – "three hours after you were told you could leave."

"I was asleep!"

"You often are."

They stared at each other, one indignant, one disapproving, until Tristan sighed again. "I'll fix the car," he said, appeasingly, eyebrows raised. "How bad could it be?"

Siegfried held the edge of his jacket, expression unchanged. "James says it's irreparable,"

"James!Damn and blast, he must be awfully annoyed at me. I really think I must have given him a fright. Helen, too, I suppose."

Now it was Siegfried's turn to be indignant. "And why isn't your own brother included in that list?"

Tristan scoffed, looking him up and down. "You don't exactly look devastated, Siegfried."

"No…" said Siegfried, thoughtfully. "No I suppose I don't." He laughed.


The elder man forced himself to frown again. "Nothing, nothing. Well, little brother, I do not have time to spend my day giving you the reprimanding you deserve, you see someonehas to do our job. And I assume Mrs. Bond would like her car back."

"Mrs. Bond? Why did you have Mrs. Bond's car?"

"Well how elsewere we to get here? You crashed the good car, and James took the piece of rubbish out looking for you."

"You mean James has been here the whole time?" Tristan creased his brow. "Well I say, that was awfully decent of him."

"He was worried about you," said Siegfried, airily, heading for the door. He opened it and walked through, but before he shut it behind him he leaned back into the room, and looked dead at his brother. "We all spend most of our time worrying about you."

Later, back at Skeldale House, James and Tristan sat on the sofa together, each with a glass of water in their hand.

"You know, it's the damnedest thing, James," continued Tristan, taking a tentative sip. James looks towards him. "There was a second when I first woke up, I could have sworn there was someone sitting on my bed, but the next thing I know there's just Siegfried standing there shouting his head off at me. I think I must have imagined it." He finished his drink and itched at the bandage on his hand. "Right. I'm off to bed, I think." He got up, taking the deep mahogany walking stick that lay near to him, and hobbled over to the door. "Night!"

"Night," called James, after him. He looked down at his own empty glass, and smiled to himself. And, finally, he forgave Siegfried.

I wanted to thank my reviewers – Micka, Kreek, Mustang Rider and Harry Telcontar Holmes – and implore anyone who read this to review, they truly thrill me :D