Dear Sam :

I just took a walk through hell. It was only a dream, but make no mistake, I viewed a form of hell.

You want a for instance? Okay, but don't punch your little brother next time you see him--I'm not joking here, Sam. This is punch my face in material.

Mom was dead. She had been dead before either of us were born, but we were still hers. But we weren't. Our replacement mother? Aunt Bri. That's right, Sam. Brianna 'Please don't make us visit her Mommy' O'Tell. My God. I only saw snatches of life with her. But it was enough to make my skin crawl. She beat the living crap out of me on a regular basis. You---Sam, she destroyed you. Belittled you constantly. You grew up with next to no self-esteem, and it showed. How I came out the same I have no idea, but I did. Its enough to put me in the insane asylum with Aunt Bri. Because here's the really frightening thought : She was in that place til she died because she tried to kill Winona over George. Now, if she became our mother instead, and if she had not changed—does that mean she succeeded? How the hell could she? She was a klutz. She stabbed herself trying to kill Mom. Unless she had a Kennedy Conspiracy level back-up, there is no way Brianna could have won.

Want more? Okay. Picture Aurelan wanting me as much as you. I joke, brother-mine. But I know who she wants. Flirting aside, you are her man, and sometimes I hate you for it. But in this dream, she was as shattered as you were. When you two grew up, you didn't. You were kids wearing adult-skins. Some of it gets fuzzy. But this part will hurt. Hurt bad.

You had Peter first. And when he was 3, you reduced him to virtual slavery. You withhheld parental affection to keep him working. Whoa. Aurelan doesn't allow the kids anywhere near her kitchen. And You? If you don't hug those three boys every five minutes its possible to do so, you start to sweat. Then came---it. I don't know what it is, Sam, but it scared the hell out of me. A darkness. A wrongness. The Beast was scared. Not in my dream. In me. It saw what I couldn't, and recoiled, feeling small. As the darkness wrapped around me, that tired little ragamuffin that so looked like Peter shot light from his hands, and pushed it back.

Sam, Jean knows adepts who have trouble glowing, let alone shooting off light. But this poor kid was a fulcrum. It wasn't going to go well for him, that I could tell. As for the nature of the wrongness? I can't remember, except to say that I looked at it--and laughed. Laughed in amazement that Menace would ever embody itself--as it had chosen to here. That was when I woke up.

Jean has not responded to me, just yet. But I hope she can explain this--because she was there, too---training Peter to kill. That I could never picture, unless something unspeakable was approaching.

Sam, I have to go. Sorry to dump on you. But knowing that I have a grown-up, reliable brother waiting for me makes everything all right......"

-------------------------------------------

Jim awoke, and answered the buzz.

"Kirk here."

"Captain, this is Spock. Orders have come from Admiralty Hall. They have overriden our course selection--again. Do we acknowledge?"

"Negative, Spock. Continue on as set. Erase appropriate records. Kirk out."

Jim couldn't remember to whom he had been writing, in the dream. Thoughts of The Hall's micro-management tended to shake his good mood. So he decided to write his brother.

"Dear Sam :

If the situation with Peter's chores has not improved when I next visit, I will do as I warned and seek custody of the boys. You are a grown man, Sam. Why don't you act like it? I know Bri played with you head, but you......."

On Deneva, Peter Kirk slept, and dreamed of poaching an egg. He saw Aurelan approach him.

"Hon-ey! That's so sweet of you. But you know I don't like you cooking and cleaning when you have sunlight and playtime. I'll cook breakfast. That's what Mommies do for their little boys."

Amazed, he embraced her, and found that the embrace was returned without comment.

Then he woke up, to the sound of a shoe banging on the door.

"Peter!!--He's crying again!! The Park!"

Marcus Aurelian Kirk was indeed crying. So was his older brother and caregiver, from a taste of air that was too sweet, and far too brief.