Despite his wishes, they came anyway.

He'd been playing a game of Yuno with Mrs Beakor, who managed to win every time without even appearing to try. She got all the best cards and he'd go several turns just watching his stack grow while hers shrunk to the last two. She was probably cheating, but he didn't care. No one had ever sat and played a silly card game with him for hours before, and he was having more fun than he'd ever admit.

"Do you think I'll get out today?" he asked.

"Hm," she hummed in response. It was a doubtful sort of sound.

He frowned, because he knew, deep down, it was unlikely. Not when he'd spent the night in the bathroom, unable to drag himself back to bed. The nurse had to help him when she came to check on him in the morning. And when the doctor came by late morning, he seemed concerned about the complete loss of coordination. It was normal for some unsteadiness in seizure victims, but not to this extent. He said he'd return later to see if there was improvement, but Seth didn't think there'd be much, if any.

He was sure he'd improve slowly—that's how it happened before—but he couldn't explain any of this without looking like a complete lunatic. He didn't even dare tell Mrs Beakor.

He sighed, head drooping.

"Chin up, kiddo." She slapped a red six card on top of a yellow six, and that had been her second to last card. "Yuno."

He stared at it, grumbling, "You say that as I lose again." He couldn't play, so he drew a card from the pile.

She grinned. "Get used to it. Losing is a part of life."

"So is winning."

"Well, that part comes with age and beauty." She tossed the last card onto the pile.

"The age part is right," he muttered, then set his cards down. He had close to 20 left.

She laughed, not offended in the slightest, and gathered up the cards to reshuffle.

That was when a young woman stepped through the doorway in four-inch stilettos, where she paused, hands on hips, to regard them with narrowed blue-gray eyes.

"Well now," she primly stated. "What have you done to yourself now?"

At the sound of that voice, Seth went very still, his heart sinking to the deepest depths of the Mariana trench. Slowly, he turned his head even though the last thing he wanted to do was get yet another reminder of how she was the better twin.

Carly wore her hair pin-straight today, and it cascaded over her shoulders to fall halfway to her waist in a shiny wave. Auburn and blonde highlights threaded through brunette like an artist's vision, and if that wasn't enough to catch the eye of everyone she passed, then the skimpy, too-short dress clinging to her body would. The cropped jean jacket she wore over it didn't cover much, either.

"Oh," she said, when no one spoke, "you've got the old bag with you, too." Despite her flippant tone, there was a wariness in her eyes as she threw a glance towards Mrs Beakor. "Mom, you were right."

Mom? Seth's mouth went dry. Unconsciously, his hands found the thin blanket over his legs and curled in tight.

Another woman entered the room. She was an older copy of his sister. She leaned heavily on makeup for the appearance of youth, and fit herself into too-small clothes that were far too young for her age. The end result wasn't pretty, had never been, but Seth knew better than to comment on it.

"Seth, baby!" She rushed past Carly and grabbed Seth's arm. His left arm. While a lot of the pain had diminished, it was still very tender and it was all he could do to not grimace. "What have they done to you?"

Here, she threw a dark look full of accusation at Mrs Beakor, who calmly shuffled the cards as if two women hadn't just barged into the room.

"I'm fine, mother." He gritted his teeth and leaned away from her. The stench of her overpowering perfume was sickeningly sweet, the same scent he'd grown up with. She hadn't changed it once over the years.

"You don't have to lie," his mother cooed. "I know it's been scary, but I'm here now and everything will be okay." She stroked his head gently, which made him flinch.

He wanted her to let go, to back off, but his tongue seemed frozen to the roof of his mouth. He could only cast a pleading glance to Mrs Beakor.

She caught it and began dealing out a few cards into two piles. "You're interrupting our game," she said, not even looking at the two intruders.

His mother sniffed. "Well, I'm sorry, but that's over. It's time for you to go. Carly and I have spent all night traveling and we'd like some private time with our darling. We have so much to catch up on, don't we, Seth Alexander?"

She caressed his head, carding through his hair in an unfamiliar manner. It was meant to be a caring gesture, he knew, but it was all for show. It turned his stomach, because this was all just a game to her. It wasn't real.

He abhorred it. Especially knowing that they weren't alone, that all this disgusting display was being put on before Mrs Beakor. What would she think of this? Before he knew what he was doing, he pushed his mother's hand away from him.

"No," he told her, and in doing so, surprised himself as much as her. "There's nothing to catch up on."

Shock filled his mother's face, and she gaped at him like he was a two-headed lizard. Her neck flushed. "Seth Alexander! I will have no back talk from you! How dare you speak to me like that?"

"A few weeks away and he gets all full of himself." Carly sighed loudly. She appeared properly dismayed, but the wicked glee in her eyes was the same as it ever was. It was the expression she had as a child when telling on him for something she'd done.

"A few weeks away," Mrs Beakor drawled, "and he's learned how to stand on his own. Now, kiddo, shall we play another round?"

Seth could have hugged her. With her here, facing his mother was so much easier. "That sounds good."

Mrs Beakor passed him his share of the cards. "Great. Here's-"

"No!" His mother reached over and slapped the cards from Seth's hand. They scattered all over the bed.

"You will not play a game, Seth. You have not earned that privilege. With that disrespectful attitude, I can see this woman has been nothing but a bad influence on you. You-" she glared at Mrs Beakor, "will leave. Now. I don't want you near my son."

"Your son," Mrs Beakor didn't move an inch, "is an adult. That means he can do what he wants, how he wants, and when he wants. It's his right, and you have no business taking that away from him. Just as you have no business treating him like the turd you dropped into the toilet this morning."

Seth had never seen his mother get so red before. Even Carly quietly gasped. Neither of them probably had anyone speak to them that way. Ever. It was as satisfying as it was terrifying.

"Get," his mother hissed, "out."

She pointed a trembling finger at the open doorway.

Mrs Beakor grinned like a shark. "Make me."

Carly's eyes went round, her mouth dropping open. With a horrified little intake of breath, their mother soundlessly worked her jaw until she gathered herself enough to come up with a response.

"You—you are disrupting Seth's rest! You can't stay here!"

"Hmm." Mrs Beakor looked to Seth. "Am I disturbing your rest, kiddo?"

Seth gave a shaky smile. This old lady had nerves of adamantium. He loved her for it. "No."

"There, you see? I'm not going anywhere unless Seth wants me to."

"I don't," Seth blurted, then flushed as both his mother and sister shifted their attention to stare at him.

"I don't believe it," Carly sneered. "Mom, he's hiding behind a senile old bat. Can you believe this?"

His mother exhaled slowly, then drew herself up. Seth could see the disdain and anger within her gaze. "Don't be too hard on him, Carly. We should expect this kind of behavior. After all, it was the same with Fenn, that foolish, pathetic man."

Seth stopped breathing. He trembled, fingers clenched knuckle-white on the blanket.

"It's like two peas in a pod," Carly scoffed. "Look at him. Just as pathetic."

"Hush," their mother said, her tone tender and understanding, a false front hiding the triumph. She knew her words had hit their mark, and now diverted everything towards it. If she couldn't make Mrs Beakor move, if she couldn't get Seth to obey, then she'd dig in where it hurt and bleed away the resistance.

"It was my mistake to let Fenn be around Seth. Look at what a mess he's created with my poor boy. Even after his death, his poison still lingers about. Maybe that's what finally pushed him over the edge. He's never been the same since you tied him around your finger." She paused, watching him flinch at the accusation. "What do you think, Seth? Haven't you done enough already? You should consider leaving this poor old lady alone."

Wrong. Seth's jaw clenched so hard it ached. You're wrong. It wasn't my fault. Fenn was the best part of my life. They had taken that from him. And now they wanted to take Mrs Beakor from him.

That very idea scraped at a wound already raw from loss, and Seth decided right then and there that no, he wasn't going to lose her. Just as he was going to protect his clan, he was going to protect her. Even if these two women frightened him far more than looking a horde of Free traders in the eye.

He was done losing.

"Mrs Beakor," he said softly, and met her questioning look dead on. "Please get me out of here. I want to go home."

A slow smile spread across her leathery face, and it was proud, pleased and gleeful all at once. "Of course, kiddo."

She fished into her pocket and pulled out an old flip phone. As she dialed a number, Seth's mother grabbed at his arm. His left one. Again.

"What are you doing," she demanded, pulling on him. "Seth? You're not going anywhere. You're not well. You'll stay right here where-"

"Jake," Mrs Beakor had the phone up to her ear. "Operation White Rabbit is a go."

"-until the doctor says," his mother was still going at it, but Seth was doing his best to ignore her. Her grip on his arm was too strong for him to break, and the sharp needles shooting through his shoulder made his face go white.

Mrs Beakor rose, snapping the phone shut and sliding it into a pocket. Gone was her smile. In its place was a pair of hard, unrelenting eyes. "Let him go."

His mother obeyed instinctively. "What?" She gasped, confused and frightened at once.

Mrs Beakor walked around the bed, and both his mother and sister backed off. They practically crowded against the doorway, unwilling to leave but even more unwilling to be within arm's length of Mrs. Beakor.

Seth watched in awe, something light bubbling up through the heaviness in his belly.

"You are not fit to be a human being," Mrs Beakor said coolly, "never mind a mother. You disgust me."

Then she turned, gently resting a hand on Seth's head. She undoubtedly knew his arm and shoulder were off limits right now, since he'd been forced to tell her all about it this morning. Apparently, Tripp could keep secrets from her.

"You okay?"

"I will be," he tried to smile, but failed. He felt nauseated, beyond tense, and only wanted to be somewhere else, somewhere safe, with an armful of warm silver fur to bury his face in. "What's operation white rabbit?"

She grinned mischievously. "You'll see."

Almost on cue, the sound of something being wheeled down the hall reached them. It grew gradually louder, until it suddenly stopped outside the doorway. A deep voice quietly said, "Excuse me."

Both Carly and Seth's mother startled like a pair of frightened deer, leaping away from the door. The next instant, a wheelchair came through, followed by the ginormous bulk of-

"Jake?" Seth gawked, because yes, that was The Grubbery's chef pushing a wheelchair into the room. He had to duck his head and turn sideways to get through the doorway. Even more strange was the giant set of pale purple scrubs that Jake had put on. How he had managed to find scrubs big enough was a bizarre mystery that Seth suddenly found himself deeply interested in.

The sight was so bizarre that Seth couldn't help it. He giggled in disbelief.

"What is this?" Seth's mother stammered. She clearly had no idea what to do, not with what appeared to be a very intimidating "nurse" barging into the room.

Jake pushed the wheelchair over to the bed. Without so much a single change in his stoic expression, he solemnly pulled back the thin blanket over Seth's legs. Then he slid one arm under Seth's knees, and the other around his back, and effortlessly lifted Seth out of bed.

Seth tensed, uncertain of this surprising development, but he wasn't about to argue. If Jake was getting him out of here, then he was more than happy to go along with whatever plan Jake and Mrs Beakor cooked up.

He was gently set into the wheelchair. Jake wasn't finished, though. He whipped the blanket from the bed and laid it over Seth, tucking it in around his feet and legs. Seth bit back a smile. He'd known Jake was an observant, thoughtful guy, and it appeared he carried those traits into whatever task he did.

"Where are you taking him?" His mother demanded. She grew brave, stepping between the door and them, blocking off their escape.

Mrs Beakor grabbed the pillow from the bed and passed it to Jake. "It appears Seth has been discharged."

Jake fluffed the pillow, then tucked it in behind Seth's back. He had to adjust the blanket again after that, but he did so without hesitation.

Carly let out a shrill, disbelieving laugh. "Impossible. He was in a coma. Where's the doctor? Let's ask him. I bet this is just a trick or something."

"Then go get the doctor," Mrs Beakor challenged.

Jake took the handles of the wheelchair and began to push it towards the door. He did not stop.

Seth's mother stood her ground for all of two seconds. The moment before she would've been run over, she stumbled aside, face pale. Jack kept on going, turning his shoulders sideways as they passed through the door.

"Seth," his mother yelled from behind. "Don't you dare leave with those–those people! If you don't come back this instant, then we're done, do you hear? You can forget about being a part of this family!"

Seth sat stiffly in the chair; his hands grasped tightly together beneath the blanket. Her threat was one he'd heard many times, and it had always worked before. The thought of being abandoned, of being alone was terrifying. But this time, he wasn't alone.

He closed his eyes. "Let's go."

"Seth Alexander! Leave now, and I'll forget I even had a son! You'll regret it for the rest of your life!" And then she burst into tears, her sobs loud enough to follow them for a long way down the hall. They were too loud, too forced to be real. Seth recognized them for what they were – a last ditch effort to guilt him into going back.

No one spoke. There was only the sound of the wheelchair's wheels softly squeaking as it rolled down the tiled floor. And behind them, his mother's cries gradually faded away.