Iowa, December, 2278

I am a Starfleet captain married to another. This life has consequences. My son has a grandfather, an uncle, an aunt and two cousins he will never meet. That's hardly all, but its indicative of my point.

Yet I have always held in my heart that this life, with Jim and I each bouncing off-planet at any given time, is still the best of all possible worlds. That is to say, the best I can hope for. I'm holding a large part of that reason right now. Alex redefined things for both me and Jim. All for the better.

But while I and my husband are his first heroes, we've always known he  has another. The cousin who didn't die. The cousin who can't walk, but always takes his little cousin for rides in his 'cool' hoverchair.

"Mommy?"

"Alex, honey. The doctor will tell us about Peter when he knows something, kay?"

He had always boasted he would walk again, that he would train his body to overcome the nerve damage done by the Denevan parasites. He seemed on the verge of doing so. Peter was going to throw away his powered leg-braces at Alex's next birthday party. That was the plan, in this best of all possible worlds.

"Why did Peter get sick?"

"He just did, honey."

I hate lying to him. I was not just called in because I'm Peter's aunt. I'm secret ops, and what happened is both top-secret and it is insane.

"Heichiaro? Suzanne. Has Jim responded yet? What? How can there be two of those things? Wasn't losing Matt Decker enough? Just get him for me whenever--whenever he can. Thank you, Admiral."

Alex looks up at me.

"Decker?"

"She's not here, Alex. Go back to sleep."

Again, the best of all possible worlds. Alex's biggest worry before this was Captain Will Decker's bossy, know-it-all half-Deltan daughter Ruthie. If Ilia had hair to tear out, that girl would have driven her to it. Not that Simon, Matt and Lucy are dreams, but at least they don't try to give grown people advice.

I see a man walk in, super-secret agent brother to one of Jim and my's best friends. Out of respect, I don't say his name, I just listen to the man from 31.

"Peter Kirk's assailant doesn't exist. The little boy in the security vid, the one who called himself Anthony Fremont? You won't believe this one."

What, I think, could be less believable than my nephew being blasted by a boy wielding energies shot from his hand?

"See, we did a search on Anthony Fremont and his facial features. Captain, he was an ancient vid character played by an actor who's been dead over 200 years. From a fantasy vid-series called Twilight Zone. The attack site is still massively flooded with trans-temporal chronitons. He wasn't Trelane. He wasn't even from this universe. And the only thing he said was : *One Peter Kirk down, Infinity to go*"

He's a good man, so as he departs I don't scream at him how my son is going to cry over the murderous actions of a fictional character with a grudge against another quantum version of his favorite cousin. I suddenly shudder and hope that Jim doesn't call too soon. Somehow, I would feel worse telling him that Peter was still suffering, than that he was gone.

"What happened to; The world we knew; Where we could feel the wheel of life; turn our way?..."

I fall asleep, mourning not merely Peter's impending death but the loss of an arrogant dream, that mine was the world where all the good things happen. But when I wake up, Alex is gone. He's only down the hall--exactly where I do not want him to be. He mustn't see the burned, shattered thing that the little demon left in his wake. He sees me, and comes running back-smiling?

"Mommy, an angel came! He's going to make Peter all alright again!"

A light from the hospital room has me reaching for my sidearm, undoing its coded safties, and entering the room. That's when I see the angel.

 "Oh, my God!"

The color of the sun, and his eyes were green. He pours energy through the boy I danced with at my wedding, and played with at that first reunion, never knowing he needed aids to walk. Peter Kirk is healing before my eyes. The angel turns and looks at me, and then falls himself. The golden glow fades, and while my world is once again a much better place, it is no less confusing. For the face of the angel is the face in the bed as well. Alex points.

"Another Peter?"

I see the tired face. The opening, wearied eyes. This one comes from that other place. The place where things don't go right--maybe they never go right. His world makes mine possible, and he just did it again. He raises two fingers to his forehead.

"Captain Brandt, I'm sorry my life invaded yours."

"You're Jim's nephew, too?"

He looks over at my Alex, still smiling.

"Errr...kind of promoted in my world, Captain."

I saw it. Jim and Sam were not twins, after all.

"Anthony Fremont?"

"You won't ever see him again. No one will. See, that's what I do. Goodbye, Captain. Goodbye, Alex."

He vanishes, and my Peter begins to wake up.

"Aunt Suzanne? Alex?"

Alex can't move, for sheer joy and wonder. That's when the miracle keeps on. Peter gets up, and walks over to him. No effort. I silently thank the weary guardian spirit that visited here so briefly, from a place I never want to see, but am so glad exists.

Somewhere, there is a miserable hell of a place, watched over by a real angel. And there are angels, I know. Two of mine are hugging, and another will soon return from space.

Its a wonderful life.