Archive of Our Own

Have a good one, Fang. But, ehh, just look out for Tim while you’re out there, alright?

Neil Finn hadn’t been sure what to make of the final, parting words he’d exchanged with Noel Crombie before leaving on a week long holiday to Phillip Island with Tim. Of which they’d at least intended to be a songwriting retreat, though nothing of the sort had been accomplished so far, with the first full day behind them.

To say that Tim hadn’t been having the greatest time over the past few months had been far from a secret to anyone, and that was putting it lightly. Neil had plenty of concerns, knowing Tim had been through the recent upheaval of divorce, and he’d recognized firsthand that Tim was in a creative slump that they only hoped their current time away for change of scenery might help. He’d seen Tim be moody, not acting himself, but no more than he seemingly could have been expected to with everything happening at once. And Tim was far from the only one not acting quite right by the end of the tour that seemed to have gone on far too long, despite the success they’d found.

Hell, they were all guilty of that. Even Neil himself.

But, Neil was aware there was plenty he could have been missing, with Tim being more withdrawn. With the way their manager, Nathan Brenner, seemed to be outright fawning over Tim. Nathan had gone as far as to keep Tim camped out at his house over the past couple of weeks, with the hope that getting Tim out of his empty house reminding him of everything would help improve his general mood and ability to focus and write. That arrangement stood through the last handful of local shows finishing out the tour, before Nathan ceded it wasn’t making much difference, and suggested the brothers take a creative trip together as a new strategy.

Neil suspected he’d missed plenty more during that time, figuring out his life with map ahead with Sharon drawing itself out into the very near, possible future. Which he supposed, juxtaposed with Tim’s recent divorce was a fair enough reason for Tim to have been more withdrawn and to brush off Neil’s previous attempts to talk about it all, anyway. Even if Tim had pretty much been kept out of his sight aside from at local shows in that time, and he’d have had little chance to notice anything even without the distraction.

Noel had made his suggestion, almost as an afterthought, which wasn’t concerningly out of character. What had been was the emphasis on watching out for Tim, and the tone just a touch to serious for his immovable, carefree demeanor.

So Neil had gone along with the travel plans, not forcing anything, but keeping watch, thinking of how he might step in if anything struck him.

He hadn’t thought much of Tim not being very talkative on their travel day, when Tim had mentioned being tired from being up most of the past few nights trying to write. He hadn’t thought much of Tim sleeping in until almost noon the day after, either, and had left it alone, deciding that letting Tim get some extra rest was just as well if he needed it, and couldn’t hurt otherwise.

While he’d internally questioned Tim shrugging off the suggestion of eventually picking up guitars and freestyle jamming that afternoon, instead preferring to spend the day taking a walk along the coast, Neil hadn’t thought the result was anything bad. They’d spent the time out and about talking about their more mundane interests, and recounting the more funny, lighthearted stories from their time on tour, teasing each other and their other mates for questionable things they’d done at times. It was fun, even when it was at Neil’s own expense, over the time he’d been forcibly yanked and dragged out of a hotel coffee shop in America by a manager over making too much of a fuss because the windows were sealed and impossible to open.

It was time to decompress, if anything. They were enjoying traveling and exploring together, without being locked into a tour itinerary that dictated everything they could -or couldn’t -do. Tim undoubtedly wasn’t feeling his best. He was still quieter than usual, and maybe not as quick with his wit or stride, but he had managed plenty of genuine smiles and laughs, and everything so far had seemed like it was just the thing to move ahead and get on toward eventually feeling more like himself again.

No reason for Neil to make a big fuss or interrogate Tim on how he was doing, yet.

Until, in the middle of the night, following that day that had shown nothing but promise once it finally had gotten started, Neil found himself lying in bed in the dark of their cabin, wondering what had broken him out of deep sleep.

Then, he heard it. A few feet away, the creaking from the frame of the other bed which Tim had claimed, and the rustling of sheets.

In the dark, Neil slowly tilted his head across the pillow and raised his eyelids just the slightest bit to try and see if anything was going on without revealing he was awake and watching, or moving enough to make his own bed create some rickety sound to draw Tim’s attention.

He watched as Tim aggressively tossed and turned, as if he’d woken up disoriented from an unpleasant dream, turning to one side, then to the other, and then onto his back, pressing the heels of his hands to his forehead and blowing out a long, heavy sigh into the quiet of the night.

Then he watched as Tim sat up in the dark, pulling his knees in against his chest and hugging them against himself. He seemed to be breathing too forcefully, shoulders visibly heaving as he stared out across the room.

Neil couldn’t read Tim’s face in the dark, but he could see his silhouette as one hand reached down to clutch at his chest.

Alright, I’m not so sure about that…

Noel had been right. Something more serious was going on, which wasn’t anything Neil had doubted, though this was the first concrete sign he’d seen worth shouting about. And this, he suspected, was beyond anything Noel had seen as well, or he’d have gotten a much more direct warning than he had, possibly a lot sooner.

Concerns as to how Tim might have been losing sleep, besides trying to fight writer’s block began flooding Neil’s mind. The suspicion there was more to what was happening than he’d had the chance to see had a foundation now, and it was building up quickly. Whatever was happening seemed like something that would take a lot out of Tim, and his level of exhaustion made more sense, imagining multiple occurrences of whatever this was over the course of a week.

Was it worth potentially startling Tim, or forcing the issue in the middle of the night, and potentially amping him up to where any chance he’d get back to sleep would be lost along with whatever good the previous night had done? And if he left it alone, would Tim be willing to talk about it in the morning, or use the chance to dismiss it as something he’d imagined?

He waited, and for a moment, it seemed to be settling down. Perhaps Tim had just had some sort of nightmare. That was more than possible, given the past several months, and while serious enough, didn’t seem worth making a scene over, now.

But then, Tim shuddered hard with another squeak of the bed springs, as if spooked by nothing tangible in the room with them. His breathing picked up again, nearly to the point of panting, and he reached up to drag a hand along his brow, wiping away sweat with a hand that visibly trembled in the shadows.

Shaking his head, he dropped a fist down to give the mattress a defeated smack, before sighing again in the night and shaking his head.

Whatever sort of terror this was, it just wasn’t letting up.

Deciding then it seemed that Tim probably wasn’t going to sleep well the rest of the night, regardless, Neil chose that moment to reveal that he was awake, though disguised with a long charade of regaining consciousness. He rolled over slightly, with a faint creaking from his bed, stretched with a deep inhale, and slowly lifted his head and turned fully toward Tim with a soft groan, squinting like he was still half asleep.

“…Tim?”

Despite his drawn out, false rousing, Tim flinched at his voice as if he’d been electrocuted, before heaving a sharp breath.

“Fucking hell, Neil. What is it? Why are you up?”

Hmmm… THAT’S not normal.

“I dunno, I was gonna ask the same thing,” Neil muttered, hoisting himself to sit up, leaning against his headboard, now wide awake and feeling a deep, uncomfortable sense of worry settling in his gut, telling him he probably wasn’t going back to sleep, either, regardless of what was about to unfold.

“I heard something that woke me up, and just happened to see you’re up. And you look like you have been for awhile.”

He paused, then, deciding he was still too tinged with sleepiness to tiptoe around the subject without stumbling -especially with what at least felt in the dark like a suspicious stare-down from Tim -he opted to go direct and bite the bullet.

“Are you alright?”

“Absolutely fine. Don’t worry about it.” Tim shook his head and gestured forcefully, flicking his hand in Neil’s direction. “It’s nothing. Go back to sleep.”

“You don’t seem alright. Just wanted to make sure,” Neil tried, first unassumingly, before trying for a push. “You haven’t for awhile.

“Well, I’m not sure where you’ve gotten that idea from, kid brother,” Tim insisted, trying to force a tone of confidence, and something vaguely between confused and annoyed over his audible uncertainty. Taking advantage, he took a deep breath, huffed a hard, heavy sigh, and tried to repress the residual urge to pant as he shook his head and lay back down, throwing the covers back over his head and turning to face the wall away from Neil for good measure in muffling his still too-fast breathing rate.

Yeah, nah, that’s not normal, either. Neil heaved a sigh of his own as he rolled back over to face the opposing wall that his bed was closer to. He still felt the same guttural sense of unease, but Tim was too defensive. Digging wasn’t going to get him anywhere now. Fair enough if Tim didn’t feel like having a deep conversation in the middle of the night, let alone waking up in whatever episode he was having.

Neil had made an honest attempt, but now wasn’t the time.

He just hoped he’d be ready to handle it when the time did come. It occurred to him that as his older brother, Tim had always been the hero figure who’d nurtured and looked out for him, and shown him the way forward when everything seemed impossible.

Now, Tim was the one who needed someone to look out for him, and help him forward. Whether he wanted it or not, Neil had caught a glimpse of his fragile state beneath the facade he was trying to keep in place -perhaps to protect them all, at the continued expense of himself.

Neil didn’t know the best approach, if any at all, but it seemed high time to return the favor, and as he pulled his blankets up further, he only managed to reassure himself back into light doze with the internal pact to make it happen before they got home.

………….

They had decided to go cliff climbing the next morning.

The previous day’s more relaxing walk along the shore, along the base of the cliffs brought it to Tim and Neil’s attention that what had been one of their favorite pastimes as children was something they hadn’t done in just that long. Tim had gone off to boarding school, and he was already busy forming Split Enz by the time he’d gotten out. By which point, Neil was in school, and he’d barely been out when he’d found himself offered a spot in the band.

Neil carefully stole glances at Tim over breakfast, after they’d gotten what was probably a later start than ideal for their chosen activity, if still considerably early in the morning. The fatigue was more visible again, along with some subtle tension to every move. Something he’d witnessed under careful poise the last few months on the road, but now, no longer had the context of the tour to make it seem innocent enough.

But Tim was still gung-ho to carry on with the previous night’s plan, immediately shrugging Neil off when he checked in.

“Still feeling up to heading up on the cliffs?”

“Of course I am, Neil -I don’t understand why you’d think I wouldn’t be.”

“Just making sure. We’ve got all week, anyway. Didn’t know if you’d want to switch it up.” Neil took a weary glance out the cabin window for good measure, internally lighting up over some darker clouds in the sky. “It’s mostly clear, but there are some clouds off that way I’m not sure I’m too keen on.”

“As if we’ve ever been able to trust it not to rain here less than anywhere else -except perhaps London!” Tim did crack a smile, and a genuine laugh at that -and Neil couldn’t help but laugh along.

So many days, they’d joked in their time there about how if it weren’t for the drainage systems, they’d need a boat to get through the city without drowning. They’d even asked Malcolm and Nigel about what they might do in such a hypothetical situation, leading to conversations about riding down currents between towers and buildings through Kings Cross, and debating about which way the flash-flood rivers through the streets might go. Eventually, it had led to playfully miming paddling up the streets while walking to the studio through the rain, which had never made the experience less uncomfortable or inconvenient, but had at least put some fun into it in the times they couldn’t afford transportation within the shelter of a vehicle.

But, with the first real, uncovered sight of Tim’s vulnerable state just hours before, Neil couldn’t help but see how Tim’s body seemed just too rigid, unable to fully relax, even as he laughed genuinely over past memories. He couldn’t miss the way his shoulders locked, stiffly carrying the physical motion, and how the corners of his mouth pulled tight, ready to teeter from grin to grimace, even as his eyes showed he did find true humor in it.

At least if cliff climbing was what Tim insisted he wanted to do, despite his visible depletion, Neil supposed that was the thing to do. Walking had seemed to clear his mind for at least a short time yesterday. Maybe, he could hope it would get his mind to a more content place where he could actually start to relax again. Something. Anything.

Or maybe it’d get them talking to where they actually could get somewhere. Whatever that would entail.

They ended up setting out as planned, with rain coats stashed in their rucksacks as Tim’s solution to Neil’s mention of the clouds, for the partial protection they would provide if they had to turn around quickly.

This time, their conversation was more sparse, in part due to certain segments of the trail up the cliffs that required enough focus to make talking difficult. Getting up on the rocks was the greatest challenge, with an initial steep climb before reaching the more level incline, though occasionally, they hit some rougher, steeper areas between segments of the formation that demanded greater dexterity. If hands needed to be involved in clearing an obstacle or a gap in the rocks, all conversation took a pause, and Neil could admit to himself without any shame that he probably benefitted more from that unspoken rule than Tim did.

So he hadn’t really noticed the extended pause in conversation while picking the trail back up, shortly after they’d climbed down a dip and back up between segments of rock. It had been a more challenging gap than most of the others, and Neil hadn’t resumed the last part of their intermittent conversation, regarding Christmas coming up soon as well, and wondering if their old family tradition of dressing up in nativity scene fashion was going to proceed as usual, or if they were still going to get pulled into some part of it.

He had barely caught his breath enough to consider picking it back up with a joke that maybe they could commission Noel to upgrade their costumes if they did get looped in, when Tim’s voice came from behind him, too distant for comfort.

“Hey, Neil, would you perhaps be so kind as to slow your pace a second?”

He stopped and swiftly turned around on his heels, almost losing his footing on the uneven ground in the process. The quick breath he blew out behind the flash of adrenaline quickly dissipated and was replaced by a more persistent sense of fear as he caught sight of Tim, where he stood a few meters back.

For how warm it was outside in the moment, and for the level of activity they were engaged in, especially after the climb they’d just made, Tim looked far too pale. So pale that he almost looked translucent, tinged green in the shadows of his cheekbones and lips. The usual, profuse perspiration that he normally produced with any considerable exertion had ceased, leaving him almost entirely dry at his temples and across his cheeks. A starkly different appearance from what Neil had seen the last time he’d laid eyes on Tim’s face just minutes prior, when they’d hit the bottom of the dip, prior to the more daunting ascent.

Neil forced down the flinch of his double take, but turned to face Tim more directly, placing one hand on his hip as some foreign sense of stubbornness came over him, alongside the anxiety of not knowing how he was about to handle whatever was about to come next.

That’s it.

”Are you alright, Tim?”

Anticipating the worst -at the very least, some sort of grievance over last night -Tim trudged a few steps forward, grimacing to himself before finally looking up meet Neil’s gaze.

But his face didn’t look angry, annoyed, or even disappointed.

His kid brother just looked scared. For him. And he hated seeing it.

He hadn’t concealed it well enough. Whatever this was -when the anxiety, guilt, and grief of piled events going back for years now turned itself into something terrifying that overtook him and made him feel two feet tall. And now, the guilt was only surging in strength.

He was supposed to protect Neil, and in trying to do that, and failing as he’d done with so many other things, he’d made him worry.

Dropping his head, Tim tried to swallow the suffocating sense of shame bubbling up the back of his throat, overtop everything else he was feeling, and found himself struggling to gulp it down before he felt out of breath for the mere second it took. He finally managed, and heaved a defeated sigh behind it.

“I don’t feel all too well. I really haven’t been feeling all that great in awhile, actually.”

He forced another swallow, feeling something inside himself tensing up in anticipation of an ‘I-told-you-so’, despite the more rational side of his mind peaking through the fog of anxiety, poking a gentle reminder that Neil had always been pretty cool with matters of knowing when teasing was welcome and when it wasn’t. Unlikely as it was, for some reason, Tim couldn’t shake the feeling of dread, even when he usually wouldn’t have cared about such a trivial taunt thrown his way.

But Neil only lingered a moment longer with his worrisome gape, before he just dropped the hand from his hip, closed his mouth, and nodded, making no spoken remark about it.

Internally, Neil took in Tim’s admission, and the contrast of everything about it compared to his dismissal the night before. Just how much more of the carefully hidden vulnerability was in front of him, and mulling the thought of this still only being a small portion on display.

Yeah. I noticed. I just wish I knew what to do about it… You would usually be the one I’d ask…

“Never mind that -you shouldn’t have to worry about it.” Tim winced as he gestured as if to shake off the small fraction of symptoms on display as he caught up to stand level with Neil. “It usually only lasts a few minutes like this. Let’s just keep going.”

He managed a smirk more akin to a cringe before dropping his tone to a low murmur, inflected somewhere halfway between a statement and a question, as if hoping the strategy he named aloud -the very one he’d clung to for months -would work, though with how he felt, he doubted it.

“Maybe if I keep pretending it’s not there, it’ll just go away sooner?”

Just as fast, with his next step to pass Neil and walk ahead, a brief wave of vertigo and chest-pounding adrenaline caused him to sway and stagger, only feeding into the cycle of building up.

Nope. The worst of this episode was only yet to come.

Apparently, Neil had doubts on his strategy, too, since without so much as a flinch at Tim’s stumble, he shook his head and frowned.

“Yeeeah, nah, I’m not sure you’d be best to try that. The ground’s a bit uneven up here.”

This time, Tim didn’t even try to respond, or so much as move. He only possessed the strength in that split second to brace himself internally for the horrors he’d come to know too well.

The silence between them said enough. Neil was right, for far more reasons they both knew than just the chance that Tim would lose his balance and get hurt.

Neil looked around, feigning curiosity on top of the more frantic feeling inside, before settling his gaze on a projection along the cliffside not far ahead of them, which created a narrow, wall-like fold, that stuck out about two feet from the rock face, all the way down to the inner edge surface of the trail they were on.

“We could break for a bit. I wouldn’t mind that myself -we’ve been going for quite awhile, and that last gap took a lot,” he tried, lightly gripping one hand inside the other and twining his fingers together. “Maybe if you go over to the one side of that fold where there’s some shade, and ehhh…?”

Pondering if it would be too much of a push and set Tim back into blowing the topic off, Neil trailed off and paused, but finally decided Tim was probably aware enough it was too late for that this time.

“Well, we could just sit there. However long you think -I’m not sure. We don’t have to talk if you’d rather not, but we can?”

And maybe we should?

Looking at the fold in the rock, and contemplating Neil’s suggestion, a childhood memory flickered into Tim’s mind, momentarily dampening the impending doom.

There had been a particularly large tree in their backyard at home with their parents. Many times, in their childhood, before Tim had left off for boarding school, whenever Neil wanted to tell Tim something to be kept between them, they had sat on opposite sides, backs to the trunk such that they couldn’t see each other. A couple of one-off occasions, Neil had been upset by something just trivial enough for him to be embarrassed about it, silently moping until Tim had taken him there to figure out what it was about and clear it away. It was a safe place of sorts, and perhaps one of the few places they were closer to each other aside from when they had played music together from that time. In an unspoken code, anything they discussed under the tree was strictly between the two of them, unless they both agreed otherwise, and whatever had sent them there, they were a team in facing it together.

More often, their times there had usually been lighthearted -often planning out surprises or harmless pranks -but in the times it had been around something difficult, Tim had often been the strong, heroic older brother looking after Neil. Never had he been the vulnerable one, spilling his guts, and something about that added to his guilt. He recognized the hero figure of sorts he had always been to Neil, and knew the weight of it, but only felt it now that the base was visibly shattered before him. The part of the role as that hero figure that nobody wanted.

His current position against the memory practically tying him to any semblance of stability made him wish he could be at home under that tree with Neil, in simpler times that felt so far away. Like climbing cliffs, the last time they’d been there together had probably been since before he’d gone off to boarding school, to attempt thinking back that far.

The fold in the rock was the closest thing he’d have to that tree any time soon.

Tim took a hard gulp, noting that this time felt slightly painful as he nodded toward his brother and traipsed down the incline and around the rocky fold, into the sheltered nook. With trembling knees, he sank down to the ground, slowly at first. Then, too fatigued to sustain the smooth descent, he dropped down hard the last few inches and leaned his back against the rough surface. After a moment of resting there limply, he found the strength to plant his feet on the ground, and pulled his knees up halfway to his chest. Within mere seconds, he pulled them in closer and curled his arms around his shins with the inherent need to guard himself for just how frighteningly vulnerable he felt, even in silence.

It was tempting to take the option to just sit there in silence and ride it out, like any other time. He could just drink some water from the jug in his rucksack and wait for the pressure around his chest to build up and hang on until he was on the verge of passing out, with thousands of things racing through his mind even as his vision greyed out. Not long after it would reach that critical point, it would eventually slope off, and he could keep going.

At least it always did eventually go away. That was the only thing holding Tim together whenever this thing he didn’t have a name for other than what he’d made up for it came over him. Knowing it would end, and he’d still be alive even when he felt on the complete losing end of a fight. That he’d have a chance to feel normal in between.

Though, it was exhausting, just the same. This had become increasingly frequent, and it was hard not to worry when the next time was coming, or fear the possibility of eventually not feeling normal again. Which sometimes only brought the next episode on that much sooner. It had gotten to where he was having them four or five times a day while he’d been kept up at Nathan’s house in between their local gigs closing out their tour. It wasn’t just to help him attempt to write. He was under supervision “for his own protection”, as the manager had perceived his ailment, and formed strong opinions over what he suspected Tim was going through.

The day he’d ridden the ferry over to the island with Neil, he’d only had one episode, shorter than most of the ones he’d been having, and he’d been able to stave off the worst by walking a lap around the outer deck by himself. It had almost been enough to hope that by getting away, something was resetting within him. That perhaps he’d return home free of his plague.

He’d even hoped with the brief episode the night prior, over twenty-four hours past the one he’d had in traveled, was just a setback. Surely, he couldn’t expect to just bounce back immediately to being normal again -recovery was a gradual thing. That was at least what he’d told himself, hoping his optimism would reward him as he’d grasped for control, and tried in vain not to worry Neil.

Yet now, here he was on the cliffside, not quite twelve hours later, with the gap in between on trend to shorten again, and it had not budged over the last ten minutes, growing stronger despite his best efforts to not think about the sensation of it, and pile anxiety over that on top of whatever force deep inside him was driving this. The ‘dirty creature’, he’d come to call it, just to have some name to attempt to understand what was happening.

He’d tried to not give it attention and fuel its wrath, until he’d found himself too winded to keep up with his brother, and had been forced to admit defeat anyway.

Tim could ride this battle out like any other time, but the false sense of security he’d lured himself into, believing that it might not come back, had been shattered this time.

He was running out of different things to try to cope with it. Talking to Neil was one of the few things, and while he hadn’t wanted to do so and worry Neil, it was too late to prevent that, so there wasn’t anything to stop him, now. There was a brief moment of hope that maybe he would feel better for it -a pause in the building of tightness in his chest with the very thought-before a pang shot through his ribs and he felt just another level shorter of breath as the very dirty creature was reaching out and putting its stronghold on him.

Intrusive questions flooded his mind, the loudest this time demanding how long it would be before Neil was holding him under just as much scrutiny as Nathan. As cool as Neil could be, this was beyond anything Tim could have expected Neil to be prepared to take in stride. He’d already been on high guard last night. Tim hadn’t needed to see his face through the dark to know.

Squeezing his fists down at his sides, Tim tried to force his own voice of reason over the foreign one picking at his brain as the invisible menace pulled him in closer.

Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just Neil…

Neil has trusted you however many times -how can you ask him to trust you and then not do the same in return?

…If you can’t trust him, who CAN you trust?

Finally, after what seemed an eternity of sitting in silence, he managed to force the first words out.

“I suppose I’ve… had a lot going on.”

Understatement of the century, Tim -good job. How about you tell your kid brother something he DOESN’T know?

But Neil played along, seemingly unbothered, and almost lighthearted.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Tim nodded, eyes closed, as he slowly exhaled.

I SAID, don’t be ridiculous. You can do this.

“I’ve kind of noticed. Is there anything that’s been happening I don’t know about?”

He knows most of what’s happened. AND that I know he does… Maybe he’s unsure if he knows all of it, or is he just prompting me to repeat it? I suppose saying it won’t hurt -oh, why does this even matter? Stop questioning it… Try something -ANYTHING…

“Well, Neil, I don’t know. You may or may not have heard about a few things. I’ve had a falling out with one of my friends, and we’ve lost yet another one of our mates because of it. It wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened, though I suppose it was a bit more of a shock this time.”

Tim neglected to mention that it had dug into old wounds from the previous falling out he just hadn’t been able to climb past, knowing that Neil was well aware of that series of events, though he was frustrated that just as he’d thought he’d finally started getting over it, everything else had begun crashing down around him, and he’d fallen backwards with it.

“I’ve lost Liz -perhaps by my own fault. As much as we tried to make it work. I can’t even blame her for leaving.”

He paused, swallowing another painful swelling of shame.

“Maybe it was best. Not that I wasn’t gutted. And then I was stalked by two strange women from town to town across Canada in the most disturbing of ways, to top it all off. Because I suppose the tour wasn’t already starting to get to us all enough before that.”

“Yeah, I think I remember something like that,” Neil replied. He seemed cavalier, but with emphasis -an upward inflection, almost as if trying to encourage Tim on by showing he wouldn’t make a big deal about any of it.

It was encouraging in some ways to know he wasn’t going to be outright interrogated for saying too much. It was almost how they sometimes bantered amongst each other onstage in between songs.

“One would think, with just some of all that’s happened, I’d have about a hundred ideas to write about. The last time anything came close to this, I did. But it seems I’ve been having this spell of writer’s block that won’t budge for all that I do.”

“You know, I was wondering about that. When we didn’t end up writing anything yesterday.” Neil continued, still keeping his tone relaxed and carefree, even as he named one of the very things he’d noted as cause for concern.

“Though it’s alright, I suppose that’s what’s going to happen from time to time.”

“Well, I thought so, myself. I wondered if it might pass, if I’d just leave it alone for a bit. Another thing -just pretend it’s not there, and maybe...” Neglecting to finish his thought, Tim forced a curt, empty attempt of a single beat of laughter.

“I suppose writer’s block eventually will go away, though, so there is that,” Neil ceded.

It’s not great… and eventually, if it kept up, it could be a problem. But that’s not an immediate danger, at least. Unlike whatever the rest of this is.

“But here we are a few months later, between tours, when I should be writing. I still can’t. And I’m practically on house arrest at our manager’s house until I get it done. I doubt I’d have gotten out, if he hadn’t thought I’d be writing with you while we were here.”

And it’s going to be SO much worse if I don’t have anything from this when we go back. We’ve only got a few days left.

“Well, we’ve still got time to figure something out. Or perhaps I’ll have to team up with Eddie and break you out of jail. I doubt Nathan will argue with him, eh?”

Tim tried to smile. He tried to reflect the contagious humor in Neil’s voice, but couldn’t.

“Probably not. I’ve got a feeling there’s more to it than that, why he’s doing this, though.”

“Is there?”

“Yeah…”

…But how am I supposed to even TALK about this? What do I say, to describe something when I don’t even know what it’s actually CALLED? How seriously could anyone take it, if I describe it exactly as it is? To tell you it feels like this terrifying, dirty creature has crawled up out of the sea, pulled me in over my head, and is constricted around my chest, holding me down there…?

“I think it’s all just precipitated, and it’s manifested physically. It would probably sound silly to describe it for what it’s like.” Tim drew another labored, deep breath, as the mere suggestion made the gripping sensation grow another step further in intensity. “It feels like the eyes of the world are all aimed at me when it happens, though, so maybe you’ve already noticed. Nathan has.”

“I can’t say for sure that I have.” Aside from times you just weren’t around as much, or seemed to want to get away from everyone. “Though I can’t see anything from here right now,” Neil piped up from around the rock. “And there’s no one else coming up that I can see.”

He paused, and all Tim heard for a moment was the rustling sound of Neil rummaging through his rucksack, until he continued. “Not even with the binoculars.”

To that, Tim breathed deeply with some faint sense of relief, even though he still felt the inherent need to hide. He still felt that the crevice he was tucked in wasn’t deep enough. One that was probably didn’t exist -his mental state would have had him feeling exposed if the earth swallowed him completely. At least, reassured by something than his own attempts to internally overpower the dirty creature, he finally allowed a more vulnerable detail though.

“I guess I’ve got some sort of embarrassment over Liz, and what happened. More than that, but that’s the simplest way to describe it. And perhaps that’s had something to do with it.”

After a moment’s internal debate, he added, “I’m not entirely unaware of certain opinions.”

“I remember.” Neil frowned, feeling a cold weight sink down in his stomach.

He hadn’t been entirely fond of Liz himself. She wasn’t unkind, and seemed to be good at heart beneath her rough, naughty exterior, but with Tim, something just hadn’t seemed right from his perspective. Some part of him had seen a bad end coming, though he’d already felt guilty for seldom occasions in which he’d seconded the thoughts that Nigel, Eddie, and Malcolm had perhaps been most forthcoming in saying aloud, right up until the very moment it actually had begun to visibly fall apart, and what had seemed like poking harmless fun before was then far too real.

Doomed or not, or regardless of who Liz Malam was, some part of Tim had cared about her to stress on holding it together for as long as he had, even as it had gone steadily downhill.

The point at which it had completely disintegrated held no satisfaction for anyone, knowing that it had caused Tim pain -if not knowing the full extent at the time. Neil hated to see now just how much of a deep-seated, sensitive spot of shame and guilt it had become.

“I don’t know. I’d like to think getting stalked by those Canadian witches, or whatever they were to have kept up as they did has most of what’s to do with feeling watched. At least that one part of all this would make sense.”

“Yeah, that was pretty weird, wasn’t it?” That was weird enough for me without being the one they were after.

“Or perhaps I’m just waiting for all of you to tell me ‘we told you so’, since good ol’ Nathan has already suggested as much, about Liz. Which is quite funny of him to say like that, when I’ve been staying with him because he’s convinced I’ve got an urge to do something drastic to myself over it all.”

“But do you, now?”

This time, Neil’s interjection came in fast. His inflection became more noticeable -a direct question, and not the loose, dry-humored, rhetorical banter. Tim could see the furrow of Neil’s brow, and the widening of his eyes, even with his brother out of sight, around the rock.

He huffed a half-hearted wheeze of a laugh, trying to recreate the casual mood they’d held up until then for his own sanity.

“I’d like to think he’s focusing on it, since it’s given him something else to think of, other than Eddie landing him a good king-hit. After harping on that for how many weeks, now.”

“Or that he somewhat egged Eddie on toward it.” Neil’s playful banter tone was back, albeit just a bit more serious than before, with a worry he couldn’t shake out. “Though I can’t say I entirely blame him, between a concussion and having his heart knocked out of rhythm.”

Nor can I blame you for thinking we might say that we ‘told-you-so’, even though none of us would, now. We really were jerks, and I know Eddie in particular feels quite badly about that... in addition to the damage he dealt Nathan.

And I didn’t get in on much, but I wish I hadn’t had any part of it at all… I wish I’d tried to tone it down.

“I’m really not sure if that’s true or not -I don’t know what to think about it anymore. Probably not, but I don’t know. I can’t blame him for assuming, with the disaster he’s gotten to see from me.” Tim snorted. “Can’t write. Can’t come up with any tunes. Can’t keep my life together at home, or maybe it’s that I didn’t get it together at all in the first place, because I apparently can’t do that, either. Though you would think I could have when we finally got to a place we were doing well with the band.”

He paused for a moment, winded from his outward purge of frustrations, questioning if he’d said too much already, but feeling like everything he’d built up to contain himself with them was cracking apart under the pressure around his chest as the very dirty creature plaguing him through it was just getting closer and closer, tightening its grip on him.

“Can’t even sleep as it is. As you know.”

He opted to not mention the nightmares he often had when he did manage to sleep. Neil probably knew enough from what he had seen to figure that out.

Not knowing what to say, Neil just nodded, despite the barrier between them.

“The last six months or so have been so hard.” Theatrically forced dramatic delivery, mixed with a hard sigh to cope with the tightness wasn’t enough to mask the vulnerable tremble in Tim’s voice with his simple, yet loaded admission.

“And now, we’re here, where we came to write together. We’ve not gotten a bit of it done, because that part of me isn’t functioning -or it never got off the boat. If it even still exists anymore. So, I’m not sure what you make of that, but whatever you will, it’s probably close enough.”

Neil gripped his hands together in front of himself, internally praying that the conversation would guide him along with the only weak reassurance he could think to start with.

“Well… we’ll get songs written. Maybe now’s not the time, and hanging out and, I dunno -just doing stuff we just haven’t had the time for, I suppose -like this is what we need more of right now instead. Maybe if we forget about it for a few days and actually have some chance to stop, we’ll come back home ready to get into it?”

I’m finding out I’m not always the greatest at stopping and just having a break, either, but if I know it’s what you want, or need… it’s no trouble to do that while we’re here. Yesterday was nice, not being constantly on the go and watching time... But I really just want you to be alright.

Tim wanted to laugh. Sarcastically, or with some genuine form, he couldn’t even tell. Either way, he still felt like his lungs were too paralyzed to even force the start of one, and the simple urge to do it made him feel even more like he was suffocating.

“I can only hope.” He took considerable pause to try and heave a few breaths without wheezing or gasping. God, you’re pathetic… Pull yourself together… “Sure hope it’ll have some effect quick when we get home, in that case. If that’s not asking too much. In which case, at least soon enough to not have Nathan on our case about deadlines.”

And PLEASE, before we’ve got to hear about that. It’s the last thing I need at this rate.

“He can’t do that but so soon -if you’re counting the local shows we had just last week as part of it all -which he was, talking to us all about the schedule -we only just got off tour. We’re not even officially in session yet. I’ll remind him if I have to. Or if you want.”

“That is true.” Tim sighed, unable to find humor in Neil’s tone, as much as he wanted to. He did appreciate the perspective, if anything. “It just doesn’t seem like it all that much. Being at his place, expected to start writing, with all the equipment he’s got there. It’s not everything, but I might as well be living in a studio.”

And useless in it for the moment.

“Well, we’ve still got time. I’m sure something will come to you. I mean, I know you’ve still got good songs in you. I’ve got no reason to believe nothing would come.”

Neil seemed to falter a bit in his foreign attempt of reassurances. Concern filled his voice, and despite his words, he seemed to be convincing himself with them as well. Not for lack of belief, but in fear his long-standing belief would be shaken by the fallout of recent events, and possibly proven wrong.

“And if it really came down to it, I could write some things on my own. I’ve got a few things -well, more like I’ve had them awhile that I could try to build on. Between the two of us and Eddie, we’ll get an album finished on time, whether you write most of it, or contribute a few songs as you can. I still think it’ll come through for you soon enough, anyway. If I’ve written a bunch of songs by then, I can always save it for later -it wouldn’t be the first time either of us have done that.”

“I’m not worried about us not having enough songs to fill an album, Neil. I know you can do that -you could do it quite well. And if that’s what it comes to, that’s what it’s going to be. I’m not going to argue against it.”

And if I felt differently, I’d have to figure out something pretty quick, or come to terms with that, at this rate.

“I’ll write out anything that comes to me with what I was already thinking of, though I don’t really want it to be the majority, unless it gets to where we don’t have a choice. After all, it’s your band.”

…How could I just take it over like that without good reason to, anyway? I’m just your ‘kid brother’ who got brought in to learn and take over guitar in a pinch, and I barely knew anything of what to do, then…

Well, one could argue it was Phil’s band just as much as mine, until everything went sour with him. Everyone might have presumed it was mine after that, but despite what I see by the nature of our lives together so far, you’re not really the kid who we took a risk to bring in here, anymore. You’ve already saved us, twice. And you’ve done enough since then. I don’t think any of us would say it’s not at least part yours as well.

Pensive silence was enough to betray unspoken doubts to each other, though neither brother found the words to argue the opposite before the squealing of wind and the pattering of light rain on the cliff side broke it. Though Tim was completely protected from the wind-blown precipitation inside the fold, he could hear the rustling of Neil retrieving his raincoat from his rucksack and putting it on, from where he sat on the other side, facing the breeze and directly exposed to the downfall.

“I have wondered if you might harbor a bit of resentment toward me for that,” Neil finally admitted, bringing words through the great chasm.

He’d decided it was as good a time as any to bring that up. Either it would be nothing, or just one more thing Tim could hopefully offload.

Though taken aback, Tim had no trouble responding this time, or even managing the start of a smirk at a concept that seemed so ridiculous to him, though he welcomed the distraction from everything else weighing so heavily upon him.

“What for?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Neil said, following the same, dry banter tone as before, but then switching to a surprisingly timid tone by contrast. “I came into your band, barely knowing how to do what I was brought in for -even though I was prepared to learn it. Which took a year to do well enough to be trusted and not turned down and buried in the live mix. Then, some odd day, I came to you and everyone with a song I didn’t even care for that much at the time -because Nathan and David told me to. And I barely knew what I was doing, or if I’d done any of it right. Actually, I was surprised you all even went forward with it to recording, when I thought you might tell me to bug off with it.”

“And?”

“And then, suddenly, it’s at the top of the charts, after all this time all of you had been doing it, with songs that deserved to be up there, and should have been, but didn’t reach it. Then, first try writing one on my own, and it’s there.” Neil paused again and gulped, bracing for any harsh reactions he might have invited forward. “Of course, I couldn’t help but be excited for that on my part, but it didn’t seem very fair. Still doesn’t.”

Oh. That. Oh, Neil. No, no...

Tim couldn’t have truthfully denied feeling the faintest twinge of jealousy when that had happened. But he hadn’t harped on it, and it had been so brief, it almost seemed silly, looking back on it, knowing he had felt any at all, especially with where it had gotten them.

But resentment was nothing he could have imagined -and was laughable even in his current state. Failing to be the one to produce the first hit to put them all over the map was far from any of what he’d felt weighing him down, though he did feel some odd sense of relief, clearing up what he hadn’t known had been there between them.

“Neil, I knew you had it in you to write songs that would become something. I told a few people that, when we had your old gig opening for us. I think it’d have been rather daft on my part to bring you into this band if I really had a problem with the chance of that happening. Which, I didn’t. So don’t worry yourself with that at all.”

“Alright, I won’t.” Neil had a touch of his earlier, humorous tone back as they both laughed off the misunderstanding within. “Not anymore. Though I won’t ever stop thinking you had songs that should have been up there sooner, and that I don’t think were given a fair chance.”

“Well, I already knew that -and how stubborn you are about it. Considering how many arguments you used to get into with strangers in the audience in the early days.” Tim found himself smirking with the chance to tease Neil from the time before he’d joined, welcoming even more, lighthearted humor keeping him afloat even as the storm in his mind raged on, far worse than the one producing rain above them.

“I’d still fight for it,” Neil insisted. “Hell, I’m probably lucky I didn’t get into some physical altercation back in the day with someone near twice my size. But I would try my luck again, if I had it to do over. The ones who were all talk and didn’t even give the chance to listen to anything, at least.”

“I dunno how much I really cared about that, so long as it wasn’t the part we saw, if they actually tried to force us off. Compared to Phil, anyway. At least it seemed it frustrated him in ways beyond how it did the rest of us. Especially when he’d only go onstage and stay there out of spite, the nights he didn’t walk off.”

“Or maybe it just seemed that way with his temper,” Neil quipped, so direct and matter of fact that Tim managed a weak, shaky laugh, along with Neil’s steady, yet cautiously muted snickering.

“He is a challenging personality to live with.”

“So I saw, on only the second attempt.” Neil shrugged, a motion now audible to Tim with the rustling of his raincoat. “Not that I had too much trouble with him, but I can see where some might. And by that, I mean most people.”

“I did like him, even though he could be an arse when he got in his moods. He was one of my best mates for a brief time, and there were good times. Before it all declined and fell apart. And I did care about him.”

As much as I wish I didn’t, because maybe that wouldn’t have been so hard…

“We just weren’t compatible in the end, long-term. Same as with everyone else I’ve lost now, more or less.”

Despite the physical barrier and gazes in opposing directions, Neil nodded as if Tim could see him, not knowing what to really say. At least, in the past, in opposite positions, it had seemed as if they could feel the silent acknowledgment, even without visualizing it, and he could only hope Tim would feel the same.

“I wish it could have worked out, and I feel bad it all went the way it did. I don’t regret what it led to with the band, with him leaving -though I feel bad it wasn’t on better terms. And all this right now, I don’t even know how to make sense of it, yet.”

A beat of silence.

“And I’m glad that nothing bad happened when Phil came back with you around. In hindsight, it was probably unwise with how it could have just as easily backfired, but at least that ended on good terms. Maybe it helped with all the bitterness, created some peace, or maybe it’s spared us some trouble, if we ever hear from him again. I don’t know -he’s got more problems than I realized, as I found out when I tried to reach out to him a year or so ago. And he’s either going to get himself sorted and maybe do well again, and maybe we’ll work everything out someday. Or, he’s going to keep kidding himself and self-destructing further, and if it’s the latter, my thoughts haven’t really changed since the last time I tried. I’d rather not ever see him again to know about it.”

Tim thought about the critics in the early days, how they had affected him by contrast, and what Neil’s presence then had meant to him.

“I always knew about it after the fact. What the critics said, and how you would stick up for us. I guess I was too much in my zone of things I did to deal with stage-fright to really notice any of it in the moment, before the shows. Or for everything you’d do to be of much help with the nerves back then, personally.”

He thought back to all the times, when he’d seen it continuing afterward, or when word had been passed along.

The handful of times it had seemed everyone at the show was against them. The rare times Tim had even struggled to believe in the moment that they had a chance to keep pushing onward, and that anyone was on their side.

And there Neil had been, fighting for them, and that was all the proof and every reason he’d needed then to blow off fleeting doubts. He hadn’t needed spite to go onstage the next time, because Neil had been right. On the nights when the whole vibe was against them, it had also seemed that those there had shown up to oppose them, and with no intent to listen and change their minds. They might not have been worth fighting, but they were all talk, and they didn’t matter.

If nobody else was on his Tim’s side those nights, Neil was.

Just as he is, now.

“But I did appreciate it,” Tim murmured, just above a whisper, watching as beyond the dark clouds over them, the distant, pale blue sky streaked with feathery, white clouds blurred together with tears standing precariously on the edge of his eyelids.

“And I still do.”

More than ever, I still do.

“A lot.”

It wasn’t the first time Neil had really been the one supporting him, even though neither of them had realized at the time. Whatever it was, some sort of survival mode had kept Tim from falling into the nervous breakdown he had recently found himself in. It had all seemed so much more simple, despite how much more severe the consequences might have been to have failed then.

Why should this stop me, if all of that back then didn’t?

He hadn’t voiced that though aloud, and rather had only gazed up at the rocky fold surrounding him, trying to ground himself in reality rather than the building terrors still lurking around his brain, and fighting gravity until he could blink the unshed tears back. Though, it did seem as if Neil still recognized his thought, somehow.

“Well, you’ll eventually figure it out, like everything else. It might take some time, but you always used to say that back then. And we did.”

It was pathetic, how laughable he found it to be -testament to just how much Neil had believed in him -but Tim welcomed the humor, feeling for a second as the chuckle he let out opened his airways, and for a moment, he didn’t feel quite so overwhelmed.

“Oh, there’s been plenty of times we didn’t know what we were going to do. You only saw a couple of them, too.”

“I was there for some, but I heard about others, at least to an extent.”

“Neil, if you had any idea how many times Phil and Mike and I must have looked at each other in a panic and thought we were done for…” Tim shook his head. “Actually, when we were in Australia, after they left and you came in, I suppose that was the worst, and I didn’t panic only for how many times I’d already had that thought in that short span of time -it was second nature, really.”

“You seemed so sure of it that we’d come through alright, then, though,” Neil insisted, not combative, but almost bewildered. “Especially when you were talking plans about what we could do next with what I was able to do then, once I was there. I believed it.”

“I was telling myself that. Just as much I was telling you.” Another weak, listless attempt of a laugh, thickened by darker emotion, and Tim found the brief flicker of strength he’d found faltering.

“I did a lot of pretending I was sure of everything, in hopes I’d feel like it until we actually did figure it out. Though I had no idea what the hell we actually were to do nearly every one of those times. Or, better yet -some of the times when you actually were there -why any one of you all who did stay didn’t just up and leave like the rest.”

Phil, who was probably better off for it, just as they were better off without him now, as much as Tim wished it hadn’t come with such an ugly phase of falling out.

Mike, who had been a steady, loyal friend and contributor -and still continued to be, to a point -but ultimately couldn’t withstand being on a touring schedule and in the public eye with such fragile nerves and incurable phobias.

Malcolm, who had only just left at the start of the tour on short notice, due to creative differences that had come to light. That was a tough blow none of them had fully made sense of, spared only from having to process it in the moment when they’d barely had time to think, with Noel stepping up and holding them together through it in every possible way. But while they’d not missed a beat in any sense, they’d all still felt the empty space left behind.

The thought of anyone who remained leaving was excruciating. Nigel, as much as they ragged on him for his opposing hemispheric origin, had felt as if he’d been there all along from moment he’d arrived. He hadn’t replaced Mike as a friend, but he’d been his own, snide, crotchety, hilarious self from the very beginning -someone nobody else could have attempted to be and done justice to -and Tim couldn’t have appreciated him more for it.

Split Enz as a band might as well have fallen to lose Noel or Eddie. Tim couldn’t imagine it without either of them, going all the way back to the very beginning. Even if they could be so lucky to find someone who could replicate Eddie’s playing down to a T, it could never feel quite right without him. And nobody could have ever replaced who Noel was to them, regardless of how little or how much whatever they did required him to contribute onstage. There was just too much he did out of the public eye to keep them all going. If Eddie’s keyboards were the glue holding the music of Split Enz together, Noel’s miscellaneous roles on and offstage were the glue holding the very spirit of the band intact.

Neil was complicated.

Split Enz had existed without him. His first year there, he’d been held very much in the background on electric guitar whilst building his skills, to where everything unique he’d brought into it hadn’t even come out right away. At first, the advantage had mostly been that for what he could perform, he could be trusted to not leave the stage mid-performance, and he wouldn’t be unpredictably violent. Looking back to the transitional phase, and the band prior to that, it was possible to see a way forward without Neil. It wouldn’t come without another transitional phase that might gain some fans, and more likely, lose more than they’d lost with his addition, though objectively, it was feasible.

But Tim didn’t want to imagine Split Enz without Neil anymore.

He’d brought them so much. They had taken that risk, and gone through the awkward phase, knowing he had the songwriting skills, and the potential to become just as proficient on electric guitar as he was on acoustic -and given his drive, likely go beyond with both, as he indeed had. He, like Nigel, had fit in from the very first day, without trying to be anyone that he wasn’t, and after the fallouts leading to him getting there, it was just as well.

Tim had looked out for Neil before bringing him into Split Enz. He wasn’t against using his own position to help Neil get a leg up in the hard industry, for what it was capable of. He was supposed to help his kid brother, and protect him. Not put him in a position to fail. Especially not when he’d trusted him so much.

And strangely, despite riding on more success than they’d ever seen, in great part due to Neil’s contributions, Tim felt that was all he was doing, along with all his other mates. Leading them all down a bad path with him, until they’d have no choice to leave him like everyone else.

He’d possibly set Phil up to go so far out of hand with his demons, by not having the guts to confront him while the challenges were small, and enabling him to keep pushing the line, until unreliability and misconduct around shows became the norm. He’d possibly set Mike up to develop the crippling agoraphobia and paranoia by supporting their early dabbling in LSD, and turning a blind eye to Mike’s increasing anxiety as just stagefright increasing proportionately with the size and importance of the shows they played.

Maybe they’d have both ended up with the same problems, regardless, but all Tim knew was his own part in allowing things to happen as they had.

Though the exact cause was still beyond him, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d pulled Malcolm out of his element and doomed him to become unhappy within the band by not determining their goals up front, much as his relationship with Liz was doomed to fall apart by their lifestyle differences beneath the common interests and personalities that had brought them together.

Losing Liz had been more of a wake up call in his mind than just a personal tragedy. Had he really even been helping her by holding onto the relationship when the growth of the band and his time away began placing a strain on the ties between them? Or had he just been torturing her by keeping the inevitable in plain sight to haunt both of them, until she’d given her ultimatum and walked away? He hadn’t even been strong enough to admit it wasn’t working out, and felt guilty for how much relief he’d initially felt to have the charade they’d been hanging onto over with.

His own pain he’d felt over the loss, once the initial relief faded, hardly seemed relevant. He’d known their marriage was failing. He could have admitted it sooner. He could have listened to what he’d been told, even back when half the reasons it had failed hadn’t yet existed.

But he had been rash, and stubborn. He had followed the love they had blindly, despite the imperfect match, and he’d brought tragedy on Liz, after a chain of poor, cowardly decisions. And perhaps she wasn’t even the first, or the last.

If he kept everyone else in the band the way he was going, would he just be bringing tragedy on them, too? When they trusted him as much as Neil confessed to, now?

He thought to himself, trying to tie up the loose ends of the endless strings of turmoil in his head, that maybe, if his fears were true, regardless of whoever was next to leave, it was another hard goodbye that he only deserved.

“And I suppose now it’s only a matter of time before I lose another one of us, because I can’t get myself together.”

The grip of the dirty creature was back in full force. Thick tentacles around his midsection crushed his ribs and chest. They restricted his breathing once again, this time unrelenting, until he felt waves of vertigo so strong, he had to lean his back hard against the rock just to not feel as if he were falling sideways toward an abyss, even though the only real ledge was still more than triple his height away. They choked him until his vision blurred to where he could no longer look to see how far away the ledge was for himself. More tentacles -thinner ones with more dexterity -wrapped around his brain, working into the crevices and picking at it, pushing all the thoughts of what would happen with each possible one of his mates leaving deeper and deeper into it, one by one, until it was all he could think about, and until guilt for what had yet to happen was already swallowing him alive.

“Maybe that’s what I’m so afraid of. After everything that’s happened. Why I can’t just trust that we’ll find some way this time,” he admitted, once again struggling to get enough air to get every short sentence he spoke out, and still feeling as though he were suffocating as he did.

Or at least not a way with me still in this band to hold the rest of you back.

“…I don’t know why else it scares me like this. This time around. To where I can’t even try to be like that.”

Silence, aside from the rain slashing at the rocks and pattering the ledge above him echoed, and as he waited for a response from Neil, Tim began to anticipate the worst from his vicious, inner spiral.

“Funny how that is,” he scoffed, as hot tears streaked down his face and threatened to steal his voice away next. “When it does nothing to help at all.”

Another spell of silence, this one continuing on more than just a pause, leaving it up to Neil to respond. Every second it continued, the taunting in Tim’s brain echoed louder, repeating his worst fears, matching them up to what had already happened, dragging him closer and closer to being pulled into a cesspool of new fears for his brain to invent for himself.

Shakily, he reached up and begrudgingly wiped the back of his hand over his cheeks, and tried to take a slow, grounding inhale against the constriction he felt rising tenfold, wondering how much of a pointless venture that was -aside from setting himself up to prove the one he’d just made. No sooner, his internal thoughts were taunting him for just that, as the horrible ache and burn in his chest intensified, and more tears replaced the ones he’d cleared away, leaving him no more put-together than before.

Maybe I’m just the problem.

And finally, Neil’s voice came through the screaming, echoing chasm of his own mind’s creation.

“Well, I’m not sure if I’d ever know how to answer that.”

The open view beside Tim darkened, and with another plasticky, rustling sound, he became aware of a body lowering itself beside him and shedding a wet rain coat. Then came an all too familiar sensation of an arm lankier than his own crossing behind his shoulders. Though unlike the casual slap it usually fell into place with, this was a slower, gentler, more pensive approach. It stayed in place, rather than retreating almost immediately, and a hand cupped his right shoulder, at the furthest reach, cautious of retaliation.

Tim shook his head, unsure of how else to even respond. A pathetic attempt of an affectionate laugh betrayed all the pain and fears beneath it, with only a tissue-thin layer of nostalgic amusement keeping it from being completely stripped bare by the crashing, destructive sea of grief and guilt.

Neil frowned, keeping his gaze out toward the distance with respect for Tim’s vulnerable state as he tightened his one-armed embrace ever so slightly, wrapped around Tim, parallel with the imaginary terror of tentacles. All the play dropped out of his voice.

“But, it would take a lot more than this to chase me away.“

Almost immediately, Tim let out something that was too weak to be a sigh, but akin to a breath he hadn’t been aware of holding though all his effort. The accented exhale was shallow, but emerged quickly, with an audible shudder in time with every tentacle the dirty creature slackened one by one, filling in the silence of the words he only wished he could have found in that moment, and echoing in the moments after he remained lost for words.

The tentacles remained around him, but no longer had him in the vice-like grip as before. The terror remained, but no longer did he feel one mere slip away from a spiral down toward impending doom with the steady and safe contact Neil kept beside him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Neil affirmed.

Spoken with a confidence Tim knew all to well, as the same he’d once practiced and confessed to.

Neil didn’t know how he was going to defend Tim from that mysterious, dirty creature plaguing him, but he was going to figure it out.

Just like they would figure out everything else together as before, new uncertainties and trials be damned. Because they had to.

And everything in Neil’s tone and demeanor shouted that he believed he would figure it out, just as much as he had believed Tim’s promises of such in the past, when he’d been in that place.

“And for the record, I don’t think anyone else is planning on going anywhere either,” he added, “but if they do leave, I’m still staying right here.”

Tim nodded, slowly, but surely.

I believe it…

There wasn’t any room left for shame between them. Just enough room to climb side-by-side out of the crevice they sat in together, whenever they were ready, and there was some odd relief about that.

“Well, actually,” Neil continued, slowly drawing out his tone and bringing the playfulness back in, still with a tinge of caution, “I’m staying, unless you yell at me to get out. Or chase after me with a vengeance until I declare safety in the kitchen cupboard. At home, anyway. Ehh, I suppose the bathroom at the cabin is close enough until we get there?”

Tim’s next laugh wasn’t even capable of being called that as much as a sob, yet somehow held more genuine relief in it than before, as he was able to think back to a simpler time without it being just a temporary distraction. It did prompt Neil to break his sidelong gaze, with concern overriding his resolve to maintain some level of privacy, as he hesitantly met Tim’s fragile, watery one.

Oh, to fuck with caring about that… we’ve all been through enough with this last tour, no one can talk.

“Nah, not over this, I won’t.” Tim managed a sinister grin in spite of himself, thinking of all the childish scuffles they’d had where he’d come storming down the hallway toward Neil, who had then run through the house and climbed into the storage closet at the back of the kitchen, or in more escalated spats, went straight outside to the shed and up in the rafters.

“But you could always still run to the cupboard -the next time I do have a reason to chase you down!”

Not that I see myself doing that anytime soon. I really don’t want you to leave if I can get over this.

That still felt like a long journey ahead, but as the tentacles of the dirty creature finally gave up on reforming their full grip alongside Neil’s more persistent one, and slid off him, Tim could feel the faintest flicker of hope that maybe he could carry on. He could imagine the tentacles retreating from his brain, sliding back under the surface of the sea, this time without pulling him down with them, and he could finally draw a full breath as the pounding heartbeat ringing in his ears faded back to normal.

Somewhere during the time he’d sat there with Neil, trying, and finding something inside him to convince himself that maybe he wasn’t entirely a lost cause without the dirty creature’s voice overpowering his attempted thoughts, the sky had cleared up.

Gauging the decreased tension in his brother’s shoulders, and taking the improved conditions as a cue that maybe now was a time to chance moving forward, Neil piped up again with another witty remark.

“Well, I don’t think today’s been what we planned for, but maybe it’s why we’re actually here.”

In hindsight, Neil could see where Nathan might have conspired in sending them off on holiday as means of cornering Tim with someone who knew him well enough to get to the bottom of what was plaguing him. However cruel or kind that maneuver had been, they could only work forward from it on their own terms, now, and at least they didn’t have to try hard to make it better than Tim’s imprisonment at Nathan’s house.

Tim smirked, almost able to see Neil connecting the same dots he’d begun to see once the haze over his mind dissipated.

“I suppose it is… kid brother. Who’s not so much the kid he used to be,” Tim quipped. “And don’t let that get to your head, now.”

Neil ducked forward to look at the ground, but grinned, as he was glad to still be pushed back down into his place by the teasing he was used to getting. That wasn’t the hasty, defensive brushing off from before they’d set off in the late morning, but how Tim normally would get after him, and it felt like a good sign.

“Should we call it a day and head back, or do you think we can still finish the trail?”

“You’re really going to ask me if I’m up for this again, Neil?”

“As a matter of fact, I am, Tim,” Neil replied, without missing a beat as he shook the residual raindrops off his raincoat and folded it back up to place back in his rucksack.”

“Well, then,” Tim scoffed playfully, as they helped each other up and out of the crevice. “We’ve still got all afternoon, and maybe Nathan thinks we should be getting back to the cabin to write by a certain hour, but I think we’ve earned ourselves the rest of today to do whatever it is we want, so we might as well.”

Picking up his stage banter tone, one last time, Neil gave one last conclusion, intending encouragement as he saw just enough hope in Tim to get them around until he could leave his demons behind for good and find some peace.

“Sounds like as good plan as any to me, then.”

They would be lucky to get back before dark, and after the storm they’d waited out during their heart to heart, Tim knew that he and his brother would have to help pull each other up over more slippery parts of the terrain. Which was nothing they couldn’t do, after everything else they’d pulled each other up over before, and everything they soon would.

It didn’t matter. The dirty creature hadn’t quite pulled him fully under the surface this time. And now it couldn’t.

Neil wasn’t going to let it have that chance again. If Tim couldn’t fend it off alone, he was going to be there fighting along with him, whether he liked it or not.

Not that he suspected Tim would fight him so much on that now.

Tim hadn’t won this battle in his ongoing, internal war, but he could at least believe he hadn’t entirely lost today, either, as he picked himself back up, and carried on down the beaten track of the rocks overlooking the sea, cleared for the moment of the threat lurking in it before, and flowing with promises of inspiration that would reach him soon enough.

And as Neil carried on by his side, with every steep climb and descent they cleared a reminder that he wasn’t alone yet, and that maybe his mates he had weren’t as close to giving up on him as he’d thought, all the way around the trail to the time they got back to the cabin at sunset, he could at least begin to imagine a day where he’d finally win for good, find peace on the shore, and never have to see that dirty creature again.