(Author's Note: Dedicated to jinnis, one of my oldest Wattpad friends, who is still travelling in Australia and contemplating her story for this year's ONC!)

Drew loved him, Jiro knew that, he showed it in so many ways, big and small.

When he'd moved out of the old, rambling family home into a sleek modern apartment tower, he had insisted Jiro come with him, setting him up in his own space, complete with a study and shower room as well as sleeping quarters and all the entertainment equipment he could want.

He'd laughingly refused Jiro's offer to contribute to the finances.

"No need for that," he'd said. "I'm your brother. It's my job to look after you."

And much as Jiro wanted to deny it, he knew he was dependent on Drew, at least for the present.

For although Jiro had recovered—mostly—from the debilitating illness that had struck him down four years ago just before his eighteenth birthday, he had never regained his full health. Episodes of weakness continued to plague him, making him take twice as long to complete his studies and then making it difficult to hold down a job for more than a few weeks at a time.

He had felt a thrilling sense of achievement when he was accepted for his first paid position, second pilot on the shuttle which worked the route between the city of Atlan and the space station above their planet. Being a pilot had been his dream for as long as he could remember and now, years of hard work and perseverance had paid off. He had loved every moment, from the meticulous safety checks, to the thrill of liftoff and the joy of guiding the shuttle through space.

He'd lasted a month before his illness had returned with a vengeance and forced him to take time off. He managed five weeks work before the second occasion, but when the third episode occurred, his employer reluctantly terminated his contract.

"We're sorry, Kaplan, but we need someone reliable. If and when your health stabilises, you can reapply."

After that, Jiro had worked even harder to regain his strength, following a rigorous exercise and diet regime. His body took on muscle weight and three months followed with no relapses. Jiro allowed himself to feel hopeful.

Confident he had finally triumphed, he reapplied for the pilot's job again and was accepted, though with reservations, for a trial period.

When the illness reared its head after only two weeks, and he lost the job, Andrew put his foot down.

"That's enough, Jiro. You have to face reality. You're just making yourself worse. A fulltime job is out of the question... at least for the moment. I can find you something more suitable at Kaplan Industries."

Jiro swallowed, unable to speak as his dreams crashed and burned around him. And the worst thing was, he knew Drew was right. How could he continue to take on a job where another episode might put people's lives at risk?

"You know you don't have to work at all," Andrew continued, with a patient smile. "I earn enough to support us both."

Jiro started to protest, it wasn't about the money, it was about having a life, doing something he loved!

"But-"

"I know," interrupted his brother, before Jiro could get the words out. "You want to be independent." He smiled again, this time with a touch less patience. "I hear Bao needs some help in Accounts. There'll be plenty for you to do there, and of course, you'll be able to take time off when you need to. You'll see, this will all work out for the best."

Jiro had tried to feel grateful, though accounting was hardly the job he had set his heart on for all these years. After all, he assured himself, this was only going to be temporary, and at least he would earn some credits of his own. He'd continue his new fitness regime and perhaps it was time to see a new Medic, someone he hadn't seen before, and who might approach his condition with fresh eyes.

But once he started actually working with Bao, his enthusiasm drained away. He'd been given a meaningless job. It was obvious Bao had the accounts well in hand and he was just being given unimportant tasks to keep him out of the other man's way.

Drew loved him, he knew that, but as sure as the burning stars, he didn't understand him.

(Word count so far, not including Author's Notes, 1243)