GREAT BRITAIN, 1900

Peter had linked their various abilities to escape Anthony's latest attempt to kill them. This had been a successful--if costly--effort. For the last two weeks, those abilities had been gone. Except for Walter, they were all just human. While they felt them returning, it was a slow crawl, and they were strangers in a pre-modern-tech world. The struggle to survive and stay out of sight was awesome.

Few felt it worse than the pregnant Penny Robinson. Her friends and loved ones had been giving up their food so that she would do better. It was making her insane with grief. Will and Wesley, never what one would call fat, were almost emaciated. While Saavik and Peter's Vulcan disciplines kept them going longer, even they were slowing down. Blake Pierce had simply never been hungry before. But the very worst was Walter O'Reilly---who almost did not eat at all.

"Walter? Oh---God. Please wake up."

The Immortal former Army Clerk just always shrugged her off, upon returning to life.

"Hey, No. You just worry about that baby. I'll get by alright. I allus have."

Chores became a concern. Saavik scolded her for trying to do the simplest thing.

"Penny--collecting twigs and pine needles for burning is my task. Be logical."

She grew to hate the little stretch of drainpipe access tunnel they inhabited. She hated her friends for fussing over her even more. Peter had been working the docks, when he could find work, that is. His insane work ethic meant he always had hot food for her. At night, when Will did dishwashing, Peter Kirk did not hold his wife, but Penny--at Saavik's request.

Penny knew what it took for Peter to hold another living being besides Saavik. Given what had happened to him as a child, he didn't even abide the touch of his father, Captain Kirk, for very long. But he was a hero at heart, and could not leave her cold and lonely in her state.

"Its alright. He's coming back to you. He loves you. Then we'll get home, you two will explain what happened between you to your parents, and everything will be...."

Blake Pierce had found a dark corner, and simply darted her little eyes around, very, very afraid.

"Father Mulcahy? Please come down from the Celestial Temple, and get me outta here. I wanna go home."

But the Bajoran Prophet that had assumed human form as a man named Francis did not answer his favorite little girl.

One morning, Will was being carried by Wes. He had a black eye.

"Its all right, Penny. He just dropped a plate. The chef--well, he kind of lost control and went wild on us. We won't be going back there, again."

Her lover. Her brother---thankfully, she had recently discovered, only by adoption. The baby she had held in her arms, just as she would hold their baby soon. It was all too much. Silently, she prayed.

"This child may be an abomination in your eyes, adoption or no. But if it is, punish me! I was the older sister. I was the one who started this. These are all good people---like I used to be. No--I take that back. I am still good. And this is not our time or place. For pity's sake, you of all---beings---should know what would happen if Peter and Saavik die. Please. Protect us. Especially my Will. I love him, no matter how far wrong we've gone. Please---we need a miracle."

When Penny awoke, a well dressed, refined looking older gentleman stood before her.

"Are you Miss Penelope Robinson?"

He was smiling, and he had a very kind face.

"Yes. I am."

"I see. And are you married to your stepbrother, William?"

Close enough for good taste, thought Penny.

"Yes, sir."

As they all awoke, the stranger helped them one and all stand up.

"You are Peter Claudius Kirk, and this is Saavik Brianna Kirk. My dear--you are striking. You two---oh, to think--you will fight with an actual dragon!"

The two champions were lost for speech.

"Walter O'Reilly---are you fond of strong drink?"

"Eh, no, sir. I kinda get queasy after just one beer, doncha know."

"Good. I need a fellow teetotaler about. And I should like a look at that sword of yours."

The happy stranger turned and looked at Wesley.

"To think--a man who can traverse time and space the way some men do this  single globe. How your French Captain must have envied you, Mister Crusher."

To Blake, the man held out an exquisitely wrapped chocolate bar. She lit up, as much from the kindness as anything else.

"My friends, in three hours, it is Christmas Day. I insist that you spend it at my overlarge house. The family can't come to visit this year, and I like company. I am no fiend, and I ask only that you be gracious guests, and rest with me until New Year's. What do you say?"

Desperate, the group followed this man, their slowly returning abilities confirming that he meant no harm. Wes looked at his home.

"Hey, this is big. Sir, what do you do for a living?"

"I, Wesley, am a money-lender. I took over the business from my father, who was taught the business of not only profit, but keeping the community well and men in their homes. His late employer showed him that, and to me he was as a second father. Certain parties as helped reform him of miserly habits told me of your plight."

Peter Kirk felt a chill.

"Sir, what is your name?"

The man with the slight limp and generous nature would treat his guests well, for the time they stayed. But his name would stay with them a great while longer--perhaps through all of their lives.

"My name? Oh, forgive my horrid manners. My name is Timothy Cratchit."

A stunned Will Robinson mumbled under his breath.

"And God Bless Us, Every One."