(Dedicated to WinterSleep85 and her engrossing medieval romance for the ONC2025, Sister of the Conqueror)

"That can't be right... Let me do another test to double check." Medic Capro smiled perfunctorily while she took a further sample of Jiro's blood and analysed it.

Confused and anxious, Jiro waited impatiently for the results. "What's wrong?"

"Well, for a start, you don't have genetically caused myopathy. It's quite a rare condition."

Jiro stared. He didn't understand.

"But... my specialist said... is that because I'm in remission at the moment?"

Caplo shook her head. "No, that wouldn't make any difference."

"But I'm sick, so often! What's the cause? I'm not imagining it!" Jiro felt anger come to his aid. How could this woman deny all that he'd been through? All the debilitating periods of weakness.

"Please, let me finish," chided the Medic. "You have a type of myopathy, that's true, but it's nothing to do with genetics. It's caused by a drug, a very specific drug in your case. Its street name is Crash. The medically approved version is used to treat certain specific illnesses but that's not what you've been taking. People use Crash for chronic pain relief, but it can have unpleasant side effects so it's not recommended."

Jiro was struggling to accept the information he was being given. It was turning everything he thought he knew, upside down.

"What about my medicine, the one that helps me?"

Caplo shrugged. "A relatively harmless concoction of anti-inflammatories and pain relief. "

"So that was enough to cure me? That can't be right. I don't believe it."

"I agree. In my opinion, any periods you've had of good health have been caused purely by cessation of the drug, Crash." She paused. "I'm assuming from your reaction that you didn't know you were taking it. What other medications are you on?"

"Nothing at all, except for that medicine when I have an episode."

"Do you take any recreational drugs?"

"No," Jiro was shaking his head. "Well, alcohol occasionally, but no drugs as such."

"What about non-prescribed medications?"

"No, nothing."

Jiro gave her a helpless look. He felt overwhelmed, unable to think clearly.

Capro drummed her fingers on her desk. "I'm trying to track down something you take regularly, every day or couple of days. What about vitamins?"

Jiro's face cleared.

"Oh, vitamins. Yes, I take a multivitamin capsule most days, just to make sure I'm not missing out on anything I need, but that couldn't cause myopathy, could it? Otherwise, half the city would be down with it!" Jiro ventured a weak chuckle. His stomach was already twisting in vicious knots, seeming to know what was coming faster than his bewildered brain.

"Ah. Capsules." Capro sat back, with a satisfied expression. "That would do it. Easy enough to tip out half the contents and put in something else. And you'd swallow those straight down so you wouldn't taste anything different." She gave Jiro a sharp look. "You do realise what this means, Ser Kaplan? Someone has been drugging you, poisoning you, in fact. Off and on for four years."

"'Four years'," repeated Jiro, faintly. His head spun and he thought he was going to be sick. There was only one person who'd been close to him for the last four years. Only one person who could have played this horrible trick on him.

Drew.

Caplo was still speaking, " ...I'll write up a report for you with my results, to take to the authorities along with those capsules..."

But Jiro had tuned out. He couldn't bear it. How could he face Drew again, knowing what he had done? All this time, pretending to care about him, to care for him... but he couldn't really love him at all, could he? Not if he was responsible for making him sick. He cast his mind around frantically, trying to think of anyone else who might have had the opportunity. Perhaps some crazy person working at the pharmacy where Drew bought his vitamins, taking out their resentment on some stranger they'd never met by tampering with their medication.

He supposed that was possible, but he couldn't make it fit. The timing was too controlled, too damning. How would anyone living outside their home know when to give him the poisoned capsules and when to stop? When exactly to administer the medicine to disguise his recovery, the medicine so thoughtfully provided by Drew?

His mind catalogued the events of the last four years. It seemed every time he had begun to make a life for himself, independent of Drew, the illness had struck, keeping him home, under Drew's control.

This was a nightmare! How could he look at Drew again without betraying the fact that he knew what he'd done? What in the flaming stars could he say to him? And what explanation could Drew possibly give? He could hardly say it was all done for his own good! Would his brother confess, or try and shift the blame to someone else, or even worse, deny everything and accuse Medic Capro of falsifying results and sue for malpractice?

Whatever Drew said, Jiro couldn't think of a single response which would allow Jiro to trust him again. Or to forgive him.

At that moment, he knew he couldn't go home. He had to break away from this toxic relationship even if that meant leaving everything behind.

He'd leave Atlan and start afresh, somewhere else, somewhere far away from his brother.

The space terminal was in walking distance. He could take a shuttle up to the space station and then find the first available interstellar flight to a new world and a new life.

He never wanted to see Drew again.