AN. Here we are again. I am writing that sequel to Fires but this took over my life a good month and a half. So I hope you enjoy.

Whether I should turn out to be my own hero or not, these pages might just show.

Fili

Even in his half-conscious state, Fili can hear the wind screaming outside, dragging icy claws against his window pane, and he feels like the cold is seeping into his bones, somehow. It's cold and unwelcome. Just like his room. Stark white and monochrome, harshly greeting Fili in his sleep-infused stupor before he shuts his eyes in an attempt to block it out.

In the end, it's the sudden crashing as the window smashes open that wakes him.

He can feel the cold now, sweeping up over his bare back, icy tendrils drifting over the sensitive skin at the back of his neck. It's enough to rouse him fully from sleep, and he cracks one eye open again to see the shutters crashing and clanging wildly against the open window. It's the noise that freaks him out. It's so loud. Goosebumps break out over taut skin as muscles tense, and Fili grips onto the pillow until his knuckles turn white. He knows what's coming. It's happened countless times before. It just irks him that he's not getting better.

First is the sudden jolt of fear, running through icy bones and chilling his heart. He feels so cold, and his body tries to react. His heart rate rockets and it's all he can hear after a few seconds, the dull and repetitive thudding. It seems to reach every part of him, particularly that spot between the eyes, so he forces them shut and tries to think of something else. Then the wave of nausea hits him and his muscles clench tight again, forcing the cold out as he tries to deal with this new ailment. His chest feels like it's going to explode, he can't breathe because he is going to be sick if he does, and his heart keeps going faster and faster and he can't move or think or see straight and then-

It stops.

His attacks never last long, no more than a minute at the most, Fili knows, but that doesn't make them any better.

Digging his heels into his eyes, he tries to concentrate on getting his breathing back to normal. In, two, three, four- out. It doesn't take long, Fili notices, and he decides that he must be getting used to it after all.

It hadn't been long since he'd been diagnosed with a generalised anxiety disorder, and if he was being entirely honest, he'd seen that coming a long way off. He just hadn't expected it to escalate so quickly.

Sighing, he pushes his hair out of his face and rakes it back, feeling the tug and tear as he pulls too hard on a knot. He knows he should get it cut sometime soon. Thorin hates it. Fili almost wants to keep it just for that look of unbridled disdain that Thorin gives him every morning when he comes downstairs for his coffee.

Turning his mind back to the present, he looks over at the window, pushing himself up into a sitting position. Feeling the chill of the cold Welsh mountain air outside, he untangles himself from his sheets and goes to close the window and bolt the shutters properly. He slides the last bolt in and knocks a fist against the wooden panels, as if that will keep them shut this time. It's then that Fili hears the gentle padding of bare feet outside his door, and he turns just as the door opens. It's Kili. Of course it is. Bleary-eyed and clothed in old track pants and a shirt that Fili suspects is inside out and back to front, his brother steps into the room, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He stops when he realises Fili is, in fact, awake.

"Sleepwalking?" Fili breaks the momentary silence with a half-arsed quip that he pairs with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes and he knows it. He just hopes Kili won't notice in his half-asleep state.

"Clearly." Kili yawns widely, a grin breaking out on his youthful face. He scratches at a stubbly chin and nods towards the window. "I heard something smash. Wondered if you'd destroyed Thorin's beloved vase collection at last."

Fili just rolls his eyes and scoffs, feeling his worries slowly dissipate and warmth return to his cold body after a few moments more. He doesn't feel tired anymore, Fili notices, and he spares a glance at his alarm clock, sitting resolutely on his bedside table. The numbers are a bright, glaring blue in the darkness of the room, and they read 5:58AM. Fili sighs, and decides against going back to bed, because Mahal knows he won't get any more rest now.

"You, er, have an attack or something?" Fili remembers Kili is still standing there, looking a little more awake now. Fili confirms that his shirt is indeed inside out and back to front, and then answers with a simple, small nod. He sees Kili's face fall, and almost wishes he didn't say anything.

"Hey, it's okay. Happens all the time. It's nothing to worry about." Fili tries to smile again, but it falters almost immediately. Kili drops his head and sighs, and Fili feels a bitter pang of dismay at the motion. He crosses the room in three long strides until he's standing right in front of his little brother, and has his hands on his bony shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze of reassurance. Kili reacts almost immediately, burying his face in Fili's neck and holding onto him as if he'd disappear if he so much as let go. And Fili lets him, sighing as he rests his chin on top of Kili's head, arms wrapping securely around his little brother's skinny form. They stay like that for a while.

It is, in fact, 6:01AM (going by the overly bright alarm clock) when Kili sniffles and steps back, arms dropping back to his sides. Fili drops one arm, but keeps one hand on Kili's shoulder, and waits for his little brother to look him in the eye. He does. There's no worry there for the moment, and Fili is happy. He drops his arm and yawns, body waking up.

"You know what I'm going to do now?" Fili asked, and Kili looked up, brow scrunched in confusion at the abrupt question.

"I'm gonna have a shower." Fili answered himself, stretching. "And you're going to make us some bacon sarnies."

Kili scoffed, folding his arms.

"And what if I want to go back to bed?"

"I can wait."

"Ah, there's nothing wrong with you." Kili laughed, quietly, not wanting to awake the beast that was sleeping in the room down the corridor. Fili grinned, and watched as Kili left the room, and when he closed the door behind him, he dropped the grin just as quick as he'd put it on. It was for show, of course it was.

It was all for show.

There was everything wrong with him.

June 7th 2012
a list of things that are WRONG:
- lyssophobia; the fear of growing mad, e
- cleisophobia; the fear of being trapped, confined
- atychiphobia; the fear of FAILING, of FAILURE
- PYROPHOBIA PYROPHOBIA PYROPHOBIA
- to sum up i am a paranoid, useless piece of shit
- i'm mentally fucked up and i have only myself to blame
- i feel like everyone thinks i'm a burden, i feel like i know I AM
- i don't feel properly anymore, i can't be happy without feeling sad, i can't be sad without feeling angry, i can't feel angry without feeling guilty
- i can't even do anything useful anymore and that makes me feel absolutely worthless

- Fili

oOo

Once in the bathroom, Fili locks the door, discards his clothes and moves towards the shower. He lets it run for a minute or two, long enough for it to warm up. In the meantime, he catches sight of himself in a mirror.

He's pretty glad that Kili couldn't see his face properly in the dark room, but in the harsh light of the monochrome (fucking monochrome – Thorin had a problem) bathroom, the white marble reflected the light onto his face, highlighting just how fucking awful he looked. His eyes are bloodshot and set in circles of black (he hasn't slept properly for a few days, he knows that), his stubble is starting to turn into a fully fledged beard (he cringes inwardly), his hair is greasy and matted and he really fucking needs a haircut, there are bruises fading under his hairline just above his left temple (not his fault, Kili opened a cupboard door without warning and bashed him in the head – great fun for Thorin and Kili, not so much for him) and he's pretty sure he could get away with saying he was a war veteran for all the scars he can see.

They're not much, really, just small white lines etched onto his skin like tattoos, a permanent reminder of stupid ideas and reckless adventures he'd managed to get himself involved in. It's just that there's so many of them. He remembers the one on his nose is from that time he trusted Kili with the tidying away of pots and pans, and ended up in the nearest A&E needing stitches after a hilarious incident where Kili thought that throwing pans to his brother without notifying him first was a great idea. There's another one just above his lip, and that was from a dog who'd dared to chase his brother down the street. Fili had been stupid enough to run at the dog, trying to scare it away with his barbaric screaming, only to have it jump up and claw his face. Thorin had simply stared at Fili when he'd told him, and then wordlessly cleaned up the cuts. He wasn't angry, just... exasperated.

The most prominent one, however, is the one that stretches from the outer corner of his left eye to the bottom of his jaw in a crude, jagged line. It cuts through his beard slightly, and there's a small line where hair doesn't grow. Hardly noticeable, but still there. That one, Fili runs a finger over it gingerly as though expecting a flash of pain, was from maybe five, six years ago. He'd run away. He got lost in the wilds of the Beacons within a few days, fell from a sheer drop of maybe eight feet, broke his leg and slashed his face open on a rock. Thank Mahal he was unconscious, Fili thinks. It was pure luck that Balin had found him.

Shaking his head, Fili wills himself to think of something else instead as he steps into the shower.

He stands under the stream for a few minutes, simply relishing the warmth sinking into his skin. He feels so cold all the time now, and sometimes he forgets and it's only when Kili almost jumps out of his skin or Thorin makes a comment that Fili realises. He doesn't even know why he's so cold, he just is.

Just is.

He gets to work on his Mahal forsaken hair first, deft fingers working out the knots and tangles with frightening speed. Fili considers dreading his hair. It wouldn't look that bad, and it'd save the hassle of sorting out these bloody knots all the time. He thinks Thorin would probably have a full on meltdown.

Once he finishes his hair, he grabs the nearest shower gel and washes thoroughly, feeling like he hasn't had a shower in days. He probably hasn't, he thinks. Time doesn't occur to him much anymore. It slips by unnoticed for the most part.

He's distracted from his thoughts by the unmistakable smell of… oh, Mahal, no. He grabs the bottle with renewed vigour, and glares at the label, hoping he will be proved wrong.

'Apple scented.'

"Oh, fuck."

Fili slams the water off and steps out of the shower, drying himself off angrily with a fresh towel. He doesn't even know why he's so angry, it's just shower gel! But fucking hell, it's the wrong shower gel. Who the fuck has apple scentedshower gel anyway? It's probably Kili. Thorin wouldn't pick such a crappy scent. And that's not even Thorin's bathroom anyway. Mahal, he's pissed.

Securing the towel around his waist, he unlocks the door, picks up his clothes and heads across the hallway and back to his room wearing a grim expression the entire way. He digs out some jeans that look vaguely clean: an old Pink Floyd tee that he's pretty sure he stole off Thorin and some socks that, for once, don't have any holes in them, and then gets dressed quickly. He sits there for a few moments, feeling a burning pain in his chest that lasts a few seconds and then just disappears. He passes it off as one of those things that just happen once and you don't really know why, and looks around the room. He doesn't really know why he does, he just does.

The window is still shut along with the dark grey shutters, and Fili feels oddly accomplished at the sight. The blinding blue digits on the alarm clock don't seem so garish now, as they read 6:28AM clearly. Fili notices that the room could do with a tidy, as he peers over to his desk. There's a multitude of pens and pencils there, half of which have the austere Dimrill Dale College logo stamped onto them. He's fairly sure he's stolen most of them from Kili, and they've just accumulated over the years.

Moving on over his desk, he sees his journal is there, underneath all the pens and pencils and screwdrivers? Yes, screwdrivers, and he's tempted to write another entry. Or put it away somewhere so that Kili can't just walk in and read it, because Mahal, if there's anything Fili doesn't want his little brother to see, it's that journal.

It's a simple little grey leather-bound book with a family crest (a crown with seven stars, Fili is pretty sure it's the crest of Durin, but he's too afraid to ask Thorin) embossed on the front in silver, that Thorin made for him for his sixteenth birthday. He didn't touch it until he was twenty. But the things that he finds himself writing in there are things he keeps to himself, and for good reason, he thinks as he opens to the next clean page and picks up a pen to write.

June 8th 2012
I had another attack earlier. That was okay though, but now I can't breathe without my chest fucking setting itself on fire or so it feels like. Also, my face is a complete mess. Why didn't anyone tell me? I'm actually going to give people permission to knock me the hell out if I can't sleep because I look like I've crawled into a hole and fucking died and then decided to crawl back out again.

And I used the fucking apple scented shower gel and I am so fucking angry about that. I don't even know why. It's stupid.

I'm stupid.

- Fili