When I got up again, my older brother was still asleep, in the exact same position he’d been in when his breathing had evened out the night before. I climbed out of the bed carefully and pulled the covers back up over him, then took a minute to study him. His expression was calm, but the smile was gone from his face; he only looked tired. Looking at him made me feel strange; weak, almost. I reached out to touch his cheek and hesitated at the last moment, feeling almost dizzy. My fingertips, barely grazing my brother’s skin, felt warm; finally I pulled away, and my entire body seemed to cool just slightly.

Unnerved, I left him sleeping and went cautiously out of the bedroom, searching for any sign of my mother. Finding none, I decided it was safe enough and ventured into the kitchen. Ellis greeted me warmly with a smile and a “Morning!” He was eating home-made French toast with a knife and fork; his favorite breakfast food. He paused when I slid into the seat across from him, clutching my glass of milk, and I watched in confusion as he set down his utensils and looked me over.

“What?” I can’t help asking, after a few seconds. “Is there something on my face?”

“No.” Ellis leans back, frowning. “Are you feeling all right, kiddo? You don’t look so hot.”

I bite my lip, recalling the moment in the bedroom. “I guess maybe I feel a little sick,” I concede quietly, looking down. Ellis’s hand reaches across to touch my forehead.

“I think you’re a little warm,” he murmurs. “Is there anything I can do to help? Bryan filled me in on your depression and how it was affecting you....”

I shake my head. “It’ll go away if nothing bad happens. What can we do today? Bryan’s still sleeping....”

“Not anymore,” he mumbles from the doorway, leaning against it as he rubs his eyes. “But God, I’m fucking tired. I’ll never sleep off the excess from this job of mine.” Sighing, he asks, “Homemade French toast? Really, Ellis.”

“Of course,” Ellis smiles, offering him the chair as he stands. “You want some?”

“Sure.” Bryan shrugs listlessly, taking a seat and yawning as he watches Ellis work. I cradle my head in my hands and stare down at the tabletop.

“I thought we might stay here today; Stefan’s not feeling well,” Ellis informs Bryan calmly, as he dunks a piece of bread in his egg mixture.

Bryan frowns at me across the table.

“Just a fever,” I mumble, managing a faint smile at him. “I’ll be okay.”

Bryan accepted my explanation, if warily. But it turned out I was wrong—very much so.

The next few hours passed in the way of me getting down some food—Ellis makes fantastic French toast—and then playing video games with my brothers. I was watching Ellis and Bryan’s characters in action when the screen suddenly seemed too bright, and the noises became too loud. Groaning, I shut my eyes and turned my face into Bryan’s shoulder; when his character got shot because he was looking at me instead of the screen, my vision went black.

“Stef? Are you all right?” Bryan sets down his control and touches my shoulder as Ellis pauses the game.

“Head hurts,” I mumble into his shirt, starting to shiver. “I feel sick, Bryan....”

Bryan shifts; his arms wrap around me and he eases back a little, so that he is resting his upper body against my bed’s frame as he holds me. “How sick?” he asks me quietly, stroking my hair.

“I feel...lightheaded. Shaky...”

“He’s trembling,” Ellis points out gently, watching me with concerned blue-gray eyes.

I shiver and feel for a minute like I am falling. “Bryan, I don’t feel so good,” I mumble, pulling back to look at him.

Bryan’s eyes shift to our oldest brother’s. Together they help me up; Ellis keeps me steady and upright for the quick trip across the hall to the bathroom, where I collapse to my knees and retch.

It’s awful. Once I’ve finished throwing up what I can, the dry-heaves tear up my throat and make it hard to breathe; Ellis rubs my back as I cough weakly and another fit comes on.

Bryan showed up again about five minutes later, carrying a glass of something clear but fizzy; I was slumped in Ellis’s arms, shivering so hard my teeth chattered and with salty tears sliding down my cheeks. My brother made me drink the whole glass of the fizzy liquid, which was just water and Alka-seltzer, and refused to let me move until he could be sure I wasn’t going to bring it back up.

I did that anyway. They helped me to my feet and the world spun crazily; I doubled over and heaved, and Ellis had to catch me as my legs gave out so I didn’t end up passing out in my own mess. It felt like I was on fire.

I was barely aware of some things, and not aware of others. I recognized my brothers, but couldn’t quite hear what they were saying; the lights were too bright and the world spun too fast. All the time I was unaware of my surroundings; I was shivering and aching and my throat felt raw. I couldn’t answer any questions my brothers asked me.

All three of us knew this illness wasn’t a result of my being heartsick; the symptoms were different and things had come on much too quickly. I think my brothers must have taken me to the hospital, because when I came back to myself and things became re-oriented, that’s where I was.

The beeping of the machine I am hooked up to is loud, persistent, and annoying, but not nearly as bad as it would have been before, when everything just hurt. As awareness filters in slowly I manage a look around, feeling listless and sleepy; there is an IV needle stuck in my arm and I can hear my heartbeat in my ears, slow but steady.

Ellis is sitting beside the bed, unmoving save the rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathes. His head is pillowed on his arms against the mattress; he looks asleep, but when I reach out to trail my fingers across his hair he opens his eyes. “Mmmh...Stefan, you’re awake,” he mumbles, smiling softly. “Good to see you.”

“How long have you been here? Where’s Bryan? Why am I here?”

Ellis straightens slowly, wincing as his right shoulder pops. “We’ve only been staying for the duration of visitor hours, whenever we can,” he tells me. “We’re visiting in shifts, because Bryan has to work still—that’s where he is now. You’re here because you were sick...do you remember?”

I think about it and then wince, nodding. “How many days have I been...sleeping?”

“Almost a week,” Ellis murmurs, and his expression changes when I shoot upright. He gets to his feet and sets a hand on my shoulder, guiding me gently back down to the pillows. “The doctor couldn’t figure out why you got so sick so suddenly. It wasn’t food poisoning or an allergic reaction or anything like that...He did a bunch of tests.”

I swallow hard. “Tests? Did...he find anything?”

Ellis sighs and sits back down in the chair, scrubbing his face with a hand and then studying me tiredly. After a minute, he says, “It’s a genetic thing, Stefan. Some kind of extra gene, or weird DNA pairing, or something like that. I don’t remember now exactly; I’m pretty tired so I haven’t been thinking straight....”

“My DNA is making me this way?”

“Apparently. I thought that the gene was dead; that’s what our mother told me when I asked her a few years ago, but I guess she was wrong.” Ellis is quiet for a moment. “Stefan, this is going to sound a little strange, but Mom is...special. The gene I’m talking about is one of hers, and it’s very specific. It’s a gene that allows for healing—really healing, like stitching bone, muscle and flesh back together in minutes. The DiProvo family is one of only seven that are able to carry the gene. It’s a highly selective gene; it skips every two offspring, and only women can pass it on.”

I stared; I couldn’t help it. I was thinking that maybe Ellis needed to be in the hospital bed instead of me. “What are you talking about? Are you saying that I have this...gene? This outlandish healing ability?”

“It is not outlandish, Stefan, it’s natural. You were born from a DiProvo, the third of her children...our mother has the gene, but she has no reason to heal anyone. She gave birth to me—the first of her children. Years later she had Bryan—the second. The ability skipped both of us, and when she had you, it was copied. So yes, you do have it.”

My hands clench in the sheets; suddenly I feel cold. “And...you’re saying...that this is making me sick?”

Ellis nods gravely. “It’s been determined that you don’t have the flu, or anything else that could explain your sudden sickness. That’s the only thing possible—”

“Then why am I still in the fucking HOSPITAL?” I shout, jerking toward him. The rush of anger is cut out by a stronger sensation: pain. Excruciating pain, concentrated in my torso; I scream, overwhelmed, and double over, curling my arms tightly over my abdomen.

“Stefan!” Ellis guides me gently back to the pillows again, brushing my bangs out of my face as he studies me worriedly. I must have lost some time, because Bryan is standing on the other side of the bed, pale as a ghost and looking like he hasn’t slept well in days. “Okay, take it easy,” Ellis sooths quietly, wiping tears from my cheeks with his thumb.

“Oh, God,” I choke out, still shaking. “Wh-what was that?”

“Ellis?” Bryan asks, the word little more than a whisper of breath.

Ellis swallows hard. “Someone must have crashed,” he whispers, looking pained. “You felt it because the gene kicked in. Your brain was telling you that you needed to go and help.”

I moan; my voice breaks in odd places as I speak. “If it’s g-going to do that every t-time, then I-I can’t stay h-here. Oh G-god, Ellis...”

“Shh...it’s okay, Stefan.”

“No, n-no El-lis....I cah—I ca-can’t. Please, I can’t, oh p-please…”

Bryan takes a deep breath and leans forward to brush my hair out of my eyes, resting a palm that feels cold on my forehead. “What did you feel, Stef?” he asks softly.

I close my eyes, dizzy, then force them open again when it only makes me feel more sick. In a whisper-thin voice I tell him: “I-It felt like I was being r-ripped apart...it h-hurt so bad....”

Bryan takes three unsteady steps backward and collapses into a chair, sucking in a deep breath as he puts his face in his hands. “Oh, God, it’s true,” I think I hear him whisper.

I grip the sheet tighter, shivering just as much as I am shaking. “I’m scared,” I choke out through a sob. “I’m so scared...I don’t want this. I can’t take it!”

“Oh, Stefan,” Ellis murmurs, folding me in a gentle hug. “There’s no way to get rid of it...I’m so sorry, little brother.”

The next few days were a blur in passing. All I can truly remember is the pain. Every time something happened to someone...so it was constant. A nightmare. I woke whichever of my brothers was staying with me, when I came screaming into half-consciousness....I must have scared them so badly. I know I did; I was lucid one time when Ellis came to change shifts with Bryan, and they had a conversation about me...Bryan was so worried, and so afraid for me. He didn’t want to leave me; he was afraid that something would happen to me while he was gone, even if Ellis was there.

“It scares me so much, Ellis...every time. It’s so hard to hear him screaming like that. Nobody should ever have to scream that way, especially not a teenager...not my brother who is only as old as I am....” He was crying; he sounded so miserable.

“It’s a scary thing, Bryan. And, God...I wish he didn’t have the gene...I wish just a little more every time I see him in such pain. Sometimes I can’t bear it. It’s hell to see him sick like this, but there’s nothing we can do but be there for him.”

“Ellis...please let me stay. I want...I want to be here for him, like you said, I....”

“Bryan, don’t.” Ellis was very quiet; he sounded sad. “You can’t, even if you want to. You’re a wreck already. Working from six to nine and then coming here to be with Stefan...you’re exhausted to the point of collapse. You’ve barely thought of yourself at all these past few weeks...I know you’re worried about Stefan, Bryan. But...please, for him and for me, you have to at least get some rest. It’s hard enough with Stefan here; I couldn’t handle it if you both ended up here. Please, Bryan. Go home, eat something, take a shower, and get some sleep. Stefan will be okay; I’ll be here to watch over him.”

“Ellis...”

“Shh, Bryan, shh. It’s okay...please don’t cry. I know you want to be here for him. I want you to be here for him, too; he needs you. I’m only asking a little while of you, I promise. You’ll make yourself sick otherwise, and it kills me to see either of you so weak. Please, Bryan...you can’t stay. If you see him like that with no reprieve, it’ll break you.”

At last, Bryan conceded; he did his best to stop the tears and wiped them from his cheeks, swallowing hard as he looked over at me. He made Ellis promise to take care of me, and before he left the two of them shared a hug that was less a goodbye and more just plain emotion. I love you so much.

On my next relatively good day, I got lucky. Hm...well, I guess you could put it that way; after all, I wouldn’t be here now if it weren’t for that day three months ago. That was the day that Mr. Izuma came to see me.

It was sort of late, actually, and the details are a little fuzzy to me. A good day for me, recently, had come to mean that I could stay awake and calm for at least an hour, uninterrupted by those awful bouts of pain. We never knew when one of them was going to hit me, so we had to take what we could get. Bryan had called in sick to work so that he could get some more rest, but Ellis had called him earlier than their usual tradeoff time. When Bryan got to the room, he met the Chief.

That part is kind of gray in my memory. Apparently the deal was that someone had traced DARIET from a search for institutions to help the “gifted” with their “abilities”. They had called about me, and the Chief had been curious, so he’d come to investigate. I don’t feel honored that he came in person, and I don’t think I should. I’m glad to be on this track, but I don’t know what I’m in for yet.

But anyway, Bryan met Mr. Izuma, and Mr. Izuma met me—at least, I guess we met. That part is gray, too. My brothers got into a discussion about what was going on with me, and what the doctor had found. All of us were surprised when Mr. Izuma told us that my getting sick during my last year of high school probably had more to do with the healing ability’s activation than my torment over the way my life was going at the time. He said that he couldn’t be sure because he wasn’t a healer, and apparently there weren’t many to be found around the world, but he thought that maybe the sickness was a natural reaction—my body’s way of telling me that something was going on with me. He said that the depression was probably the same thing, for the most part—and that the ability, originally, had probably been pinged because of all the pain I was experiencing in my life and the lives of others.

“Stefan, when you were sick...did it seem to get worse each time?” the man asks me. He seems very patient and calm, and he is very kind. “Or was it about the same each time, except for the catalyst that landed you here?”

“Got worse. At school...I felt sick, then I was sick in the bathrooms, then I was so sick they wanted to send me home...I never went home. There would have been nobody to take care of me...Mom wouldn’t care. After I found out about the depression it got a little better, until...until that night.”

Mr. Izuma frowned; I was barely awake enough to notice. Bryan explained about the fight he’d had with our mother, and Ellis added on about how I’d woken up with a fever the next day, and how it had progressed so suddenly into heavy flu-like symptoms. Then he explained about the testing that the doctor had done when they’d discovered it wasn’t the flu or any other recognizable disease...That’s where I zoned out, I guess.

It must not have been for too long, though, because when I woke up again Mr. Izuma was still there. Ellis was sitting in the chair with his eyes closed and his head tipped back; Bryan and Mr. Izuma were talking quietly.

I drifted for a moment, peacefully, and then suddenly began to feel feverish. I guess I must have moaned or shifted or something because Ellis opened his eyes and straightened up, and both Bryan and the Chief looked my way.

“It’s happening again...Oh, God....”

Ellis got to his feet and traded a look with Bryan, tired and anguished, as both of them started towards me. I guess they must have gotten to me at some point, because after the pain lessened and I quit screaming they were both helping me calm down, murmuring to each other alternately.

“Easy, Stef...shh, it’s okay; it’s over....Ellis, it’s getting worse.”

“God, I know...hell. Come on, Stefan...take a deep breath.”

Mr. Izuma looked somewhere between concerned and alarmed. “Is it always that bad?”

“At least. Like Bryan said, it’s getting worse.”

“That would be the effect of the healing manifesting without proper boundaries...and being in this hospital can’t be helping him any at all. If anything, it’s only making him worse.” The man sighs. “The only way I can help him is if I can get him into DARIET...he has to be screened before acceptance, though, and right now he won’t make it through a psych evaluation without a breakdown....”

I am drifting again, lost in the aftershocks. I feel the sheets and blanket being pulled up over me, and the warmth makes it even harder to focus.

“...se help him. I can’t see him like this anymore....”

“...s right...kills us. He’s been in and out for weeks, and even with our schedules...”

“...what I can, gentlemen. Your brother needs treatment for this, even if...’s not going to be an easy task, but...ry capable of handling it. They adapt well to high-pressure situations...will be in the best facility he could find, without going off-continent.”

“...ou so much, sir...no idea...s.....”

And that was where I fell asleep.