Jigsaw

McConnaghay Home, Thursday

Maureen was working on a story for the Dispatch when Jonas, Harry, and the Wentworth boys beamed in. At first, she didn't notice their sombre expressions. Then Randy burst into tears and ran out the back door. Philip started to run after him; Drew called out, "Wait!" At their stunned expressions, he said, "He needs a chance to cry it out, and he'll come talk to you about it after." He looked ready to cry himself, and lifted his arms for Harry to pick him up.

Harry picked up the little redheaded seven-year-old, and held him close. As Drew buried his head in Harry's shoulder, Harry buried his face in Drew's hair, both snuffling as if holding back tears.

Jonas's heart went out to them. He looked at Philip, who still looked shell-shocked, and motioned him into a group hug with Harry and Drew, wrapping his arms around them. His own reserve began to crack, and he said, "Mother?..."

That brought Maureen's attention, already caught by Randy's flight, to full focus. "What's wrong, son?" she asked.

"Call Dad," he said, as the emotional strain of Philip and Harry became too much, and they sat abruptly on the floor, dragging him down with them.

Maureen called Josiah quickly. "Come home. The boys need you," she said, and hung up. She moved quickly to them, and began to be what comfort to them she could.

---

Josiah braked, turned, and pulled into the driveway of Maureen's house, staying one step away from squealing tires. The deputy who had escorted him from Farmington in response to his call waved and drove off to resume his normal patrol. He hurried inside to find Maureen and the five boys sitting.

Jonas lifted haunted eyes to him. "We need you, Dad. We did our duty, but it's eating at us."

Haltingly, Josiah pieced together the story the boys told him of what had happened in Worcester — that the boys had been pulled from school to determine if the leadership of its F.C.C. local church had been involved in what was being referred to by the press as the "Montana Massacre", and had found the pastor and two elders guilty and executed them on the spot.

"We killed them," Philip said, eyes wet and expression bleak. "We burned them down in cold blood. It was the right thing to do, the only thing we could do — but it still doesn't...." He could not finish his thought. Randy and Drew cuddled close, just as stressed as their big brother.

Josiah drew a deep breath. He knew what what he said in the next few minutes would make or break five boys he'd come to love. "Never lose that," he began quietly. "You are feeling remorse for making a tough decision — one that was right, required by law, but one that it hurt you to pronounce and carry out. Have no doubts that you did the right thing. But at the same time, never lose track of the enormity of what you knew you had to do."

He drew another breath. "I have sent men to prison, some of them good men who did something stupid in a moment of weakness and were required by law to pay for their crime. I have terminated parental rights, where a woman meant well but was incompetent to provide for her children, and they were suffering under her so-called care." He closed his eyes, said a quick prayer, then asked probing questions. "Did Sarek give you any choice in whether to go?"

"No." Harry had been quiet; the one word clearly cost him.

"Do you little ones have any doubts about what you found?"

"Uh-uh," Drew said. Of them all, he was the most composed. "They was makin' up lies to say to us while they was thinkin' about how they'd sent men to kill SamSam and them — and they were glad to have done it!" He jutted out his jaw, the picture of a little boy who knows what's right and won't be moved by argument, even from grown-ups.

"Was there any doubt in your minds what Vulcan justice called for?" Josiah's expression was compassionate as he led them through their actions.

"Not really," Jonas said. He was seated on the couch, holding Harry loosely as the boy who loved him slumped across his shoulder and chest.

Maureen was poised on a chair arm, hands absently twisting a handkerchief as she looked on with pain evident at being unable to do anything to comfort "her boys." Peter flicked in, looking serious for once, and plunked himself in her arms.

"Son," Josiah said to him, "Can you see what would have happened if these boys hadn't done as they did?"

"I'll try... it's kinda hard right now... okay, got it"" Peter said slowly, squinching up his face and getting an abstracted look as he used his Mikyvis powers to view "what if" situations.

"Then by the love you bear your brothers, show it to them," Josiah said in a fatherly tone of command.

Peter showed them.

Randy began crying again. Philip drew him close. "They'd have done that?!?!" Drew said in an incredulous voice. Harry echoed him in different words.

"What?" Maureen asked.

"Mother," Jonas said somberly, "you don't want to know." He drew a deep breath, pulled Harry close, and caught the Wentworth brothers' attention with his eyes. "I guess..." he began, "I guess we did do the right thing."

"Never forget," Josiah said, all compassion now, "Never forget how you felt. But never think you didn't do the right thing." He rested his hand on the shoulder of the boy he'd come to consider his son; Jonas leaned into it, resting his head alongside his new father's arm.

Josiah stepped over to the Wentworths and fiddled a moment with Philip's commbadge. "Josiah Brewster to J.J. and Dan Richardson," he said firmly. "I have five boys here who really need to speak to both of you. They just carried out a Vulcan capital trial, and are feeling, well, you know.... I'm exercising my authority as parent of Clan members to order them to talk it out with you. You've been there."

"Heard and understood, Judge," came J.J.'s voice. "I'm there for them; they know that."

"It's my job," Dan said. "You guys willing to talk about it?"

"Yes," Jonas said simply and quietly, in behalf of all five of them. He didn't need to even look at them to know what their response would be.

"You're coming down for Joel and Jude's birthday party, right?" J.J. added. "We'll talk before, as soon as you get here — me and Dad, and Gabe too if I can free him up. We know what it feels like."

"Birthday party?" asked Maureen. "Won't you need to take presents?"

"Got it covered, Mom!" Peter said giggling.

---

Eric Carlson's Perspective

Note: This section begins with the conclusion of the scene from Eric's perspective in the last chapter, outside the Sheriff's Office in Farmington. Also note that the Randy and Danny in this section are Eric's sons, Kevin's brothers in the Unholy Trinity, not Randy Wentworth or Danny O'Ryan.

We got outside the Sheriff's Office, and I stopped my boys and knelt down, looking at each of them.

"I'm so very proud of you three. Are you all right?" I asked as they moved forward and gave me a hug, all mumbling "Yeah."

"We just did what we had to," Kevin said into the silence.

"I just wish more people would," Randy put in.

"Well, I think these guys will now, because of you," I told them.

They smiled up at me, and we began walking again.

"Hey, can we go visit Jonas and Harry?" Danny asked suddenly, grinning up at me.

"Yeah, maybe they'll have more pie," Kevin added as I looked on skeptically.

"Besides, Dad, you always said it's not polite to come into town and not visit your family," Randy said now, smiling up at me.

"I don't know, guys; hasn't Arkham suffered enough for one day?" I asked as all three chorused "NO!" amidst giggles.

Yep, my boys were back.

Kevin grabbed one hand while Danny took the other and, with Randy leading the way, began to drag me off down the street.

We got about half a block before Randy stopped and, looking sheepish, asked, "Uh…anyone know where Jonas lives?"

I had to start laughing at that, which earned me dirty looks from all three, which turned into giggles as Kevin called back to the Unit and asked Daileass.

"Oh, about eleven miles from your current position" was his answer.

"Miles?" Danny mumbled.

"Eleven?" the other two chorused.

"Oh, I suppose I could be persuaded to transport you if you want." Daileass's suffering tone came through.

"Please?" all three asked sweetly.

"Save it for someone who it might work on, guys, I'm immune," he replied before we suddenly found ourselves standing in front of Maureen and Jonas's two-story frame house in Arkham.

The smiles disappeared off their faces in an instant as all three started forward.

"Whoah there, what's going on?" I asked.

Kevin turned and looked up at me and said, "Jonas and the others are hurting, Dad; something has happened."

"Something bad," Randy added.

I followed as they walked to the door and rang the doorbell.

An older man answered the door with a worried expression on his face as Kevin said, "Sir, we're here to see Jonas and Harry."

The man tried to put a smile on his face as he replied gently, "I'm sorry, boys, but now isn't really a good time."

Danny stepped forward and said softly, "We know."

"Sir, my name is Eric Carlson, and these are my boys Danny, Kevin, and Randy," I said.

"Mr. Carlson, unless this is an emergency, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to come back some other time," the man said as Randy shook his head and pushed the cloak back from his shoulders.

"I'm afraid we can't do that, sir," he said as the man took in the patches, and with the realization of what was on them, mouthed the word "Clan."

"Let them in, Daddy," a small voice said, belonging to the young boy who suddenly appeared at the man's side.

"I'm sorry, boys, I didn't know, but well, right now, the boys are in no shape to deal with much of anything," he said.

Kevin softly said, "We know, we can feel it," and let his eyes shine for a moment as the man stood aside, motioning all of us to come in.

---

Kevin Carlson's Perspective

"We know, we can feel it," I said quietly as I let my eyes glow for a second so he'd know, before following him in and turning my attention to Peter.

*What happened?* I sent.

In a moment I had a dump of all that had taken place, which I relayed to my brothers, bringing our link up in the process. As we entered to find all five boys sitting despondently, Jonas and Harry together and Philip holding the cuties. All of them looked lost and we could feel the pain inside for what they had had to do.

"Kevin, Randy, Danny, what are you doing here?" Jonas asked, starting to get up.

"Stay," Randy said quickly before he could do so.

"We came to see you since we were in town for something else with my dad," I replied.

"Well, we just got back from dealing with some FCC men, that were part of what happened Saturday, and, well, we don't feel too good right now," Jonas said in a restrained voice.

"Sheriff, boys, come in, come in," Maureen said.

I heard Dad talking to Maureen as I replied gently, "We know, Jonas; Peter filled us in about everything."

Just then, Danny's head came up as he looked over at the little ones, and with a brief glance at me, he walked over and knelt down in front of Philip and the twins, who were cuddled sadly in Philip's lap.

I could feel Jonas and Harry watching, as were we, when Danny softly said "Hi."

They didn't even look up at him, but just mumbled a hello in return.

He reached out and placed a hand on each before gently saying, "Remember the rooms, guys? You have to put it in the rooms like we were taught, or it's going to really hurt you bad."

I saw the twins close their eyes and their faces went blank for a moment, then they looked up with something that was almost happiness on their faces, and they hugged Danny and said "Thanks!"

Danny sat back with a cutie on each side of his lap, hugging them back

"What just happened?" Philip asked, with Harry echoing, "What rooms?!"

I looked to Harry and Jonas and said, "Come on," motioning them over to the other boys.

When we got there, we all sat down, and I looked at the three of them before starting.

"For telepaths, we can create 'rooms' in our heads to deal with stuff like this. It's sort of like the Vulcan training times ten. It lets us deal with bad stuff and not have it deal with us, ya know? So when we scan someone or have to do something, we can put that stuff into one of those rooms, where we can see it and deal with it, but it won't hurt us. If we didn't, then we'd get messed up real bad, real fast. Jason gave us the training and made sure we know how to use it, and I know the twins got it too from Jamie and Jacob. The problem was that it was so much and hit them so hard that they didn't think to put it off into one of those rooms, and it was hurting them," I said.

"You guys aren't telepaths, but you can get the Vulcan training all non-telepaths do and it kind of does the same thing. It lets you do stuff when you need to and be a kid the rest of the time. When you do have to do stuff, it won't hurt you like this again," Randy told them.

"And no, Mr. Brewster, it doesn't mean they won't know what they've done; they will. They always will, it just won't tear them apart like it's doing now," Danny said softly to the man's obvious surprise.

A soft giggling voice said, "They're telepaths, Uncle Judge, like us."

"And we didn't need to look, Mr. Brewster; it was kind of loud what you were worried about," I replied, smiling at the twins' antics.

"We'll get someone down here right now to help you guys out," Randy told them.

"Sammy went and did something Monday like this, and it really screwed him up because he wasn't ready yet; he hadn't had the training. You guys need it, and you need it now, before this gets any worse," I said.

Josiah interrupted. "Thank you, boys, for seeing and answering my concern. But I'd already arranged for them to meet with Dan and J.J. Richardson when they go to Orlando, for just that reason."

Randy was shaking his head no before the man had finished speaking, and I quickly said "They can't help with this, sir; it has to be someone capable of giving the Vulcan training. They can help with other stuff, but this is special."

"Let me get a hold of Jace," I said, reaching for my communicator.

Jonas looked up. He gathered Harry and Philip's eyes with his own, and then said, "Hey, guys. We're all supposed to go down for Joel's birthday party, shortly — we can handle it until then, I think."

"No, you can't," Danny said gently, looking each of the boys in the eyes for a moment. Each dropped their gaze as he came to them, and he went on, "We'll fix it for you for now, until someone can go in and teach you what you need to know."

"When you find someone to give you the training, they can release the blocks we're going to put in," I said now.

"You won't forget, Jonas, it just won't tear you to pieces like it's doing now, 'til you can deal with it, and you can't do that until you have the training," Randy said.

"Will you let us help you?" Danny asked.

It was Philip who looked at us, almost reading our hearts, and then said, "I know what it's like to carry that hurt and to repress it. Do what you can to help us, please."

"We will, Philip, don't worry," Danny said softly, as he moved forward and whispered, "Come on, cuties, follow me and watch what I'm gonna do."

"'Kay," they replied.

With that, Danny slowly reached up and placed his hand on Philip's cheek, saying softly, "You might feel a bit of a tickle but this won't hurt," then his eyes began to shine brightly and moments later returned to normal as he pulled his hand back.

"All done," Danny told him as the older boy looked out with wonder on his face.

"Help Harry and Jonas," Philip said gently to Danny. "And thank you — I can't tell you how much."

"You're welcome, but that's what brothers do, Philip, and you're one of ours now," Danny replied, smiling.

I turned to Jonas as Randy scooted over and crawled into a startled Harry's lap.

"Ready?" I asked him.

He nodded in reply, and I brought my hand up to his face, touching him gently as Randy giggled and said, "Don't worry, we won't read nothing 'bout the barbeque sauce."

As Jonas's mouth dropped open, I let my mind flow out and into his, isolating those recent memories, dealing with the whole mess at the church, and placing them behind closed doors until someone with the proper key unlocked them again.

Then I was back, as was Randy, who had done the same to a blushing Harry, just in time to hear Mrs. M ask "Barbeque sauce?"

"They were just distracting them so they wouldn't fuss so much 'bout what was going to be done to them," Danny said to Mrs. M while grinning at the two teens.

"Well, if you'll be wanting barbeque, I suppose we could have that for dinner," Maureen said, trying to be helpful, as six boys fell over laughing while two imitated the tomatoes that would go with the salad and finally just buried their heads in their hands.

"Don't ask, mother!" Jonas said with a blush.

Maureen said under her breath, "I'm not sure I want to know," then asked brightly, "Would you all like some coffee and Danish?"

"Actually…" Randy started to say, but Harry quickly placed his hand over his mouth, so whatever else was going to be said turned into muffled somethings that no one could make out.

It didn't stop the giggles.

"You got any of that pie left?" I asked, hoping they did, as Danny and a still muzzled Randy nodded their heads rapidly.

"Pie?" Maureen asked.

"Mom gave them pie the last time they were up here," Harry explained helpfully.

"It was good, too," Danny said with a giggle.

"Would you settle for Danish and ice cream?" Maureen asked.

Peter disappeared and returned a second later, carrying a tray of six pies from Slim's Diner.

"...Or you could have pie," Maureen added smoothly, though she looked startled at her Mikyvis son's latest prank.

"Yeah!" we all yelled, as Randy looked at Mrs. M and said, "Oh, Danish and ice cream with it sounds good too, ma'am."

Danny had gotten up and went and hugged Peter before looking up at dad with his puppy dog eyes saying, "Can we keep him, Dad, please can we, can we?"

"Oh Lord!" Dad mumbled, looking up at the sky.

"I'm keeping my little brother," Jonas said mock-grumpily at Danny, breaking out into a big grin as he finished speaking.

"Maybe you could set up a time-share arrangement?" Harry joked "Since Mikyvis can hop around in time, that is."

"Okay, guys, somehow I don't think Mikyvis are put here just to provide pies for perpetually empty stomachs," Dad said grinning.

Peter giggled.

"Nah, they give random hugs too," Randy said now.

The giggles doubled, and Randy got a sample of what he'd described.

"What more could ya want, Dad, hugs and food, everything we need, see?" I said, giggling now at what Peter had done.

At that point, I was bowled over as the cuties both pounced me.

Maureen then began setting things out on her dining room table, and gestured the judge and Dad to join her.

Harry picked up Drew and Jonas Danny, and they walked out to join the adults, with hunger evident on their faces.

"The one thing guaranteed to get their attention," Dad said softly to Mrs. M, although I could hear him as she replied laughing, "Don't I know?"

---

After we made short work of six pies, two dozen danish, and two and a half gallons of ice cream, Randy asked, "Don't we need to call someone to beam us down to Orlando?"

Peter giggled and said, "You don't need ta call for transport; ya got me!"

"Cool, we gots to gets us a Mikyvis brother, Dad!" Danny said, giggling.

"No. We. Don't," Dad replied sourly to a bunch of giggles

I moved forward towards Jonas and the other two older boys and said seriously, "You three make sure and find one of the ones who can give you the training before you leave Orlando today," then, turning to Peter, said, "Don't let them leave Orlando without it, bro; you understand why."

With a serious look on his face, the little Mikyvis said, "I sure do!"

I reached out and pulled him into a hug, saying softly, "Thanks, I know you do but they don't, and I don't want them hurt anymore because they think they'll be okay now with only what we've done."

Peter turned to the three teens and said, "Guys, it's like putting a tourniquet on a wound. It stops the flow of blood, but if you don't fix it as soon as you can, bad things happen. The guys gave you a tourniquet — don't mistake that for healing the wound."

Josiah looked at his little Mikyvis son-to-be and backed him up. "That's a really good explanation of how important whatever you're telling them to do is. Jonas, I put on you the duty of making sure that you, Harry, and Philip get that care as soon as you possibly can."

"SamSam got some training, but not all he needed. Then he went and handled something like you did, only he took a telepathic dump too, and it caused him to basically have a meltdown. Jace had to go into his mind with Viccy to save him. He should have waited 'til he had the training, but he couldn't at the time, and it tore him apart. What we did was like Peter said, we put a block on it, but it's still there, just not hurting you. It's only temporary though, and if you don't get the training to deal with it and then deal, it'll come back, and come back even worse. It'll be like the tourniquet breaks after holding all that blood back. So please don't think we're being bossy or nothing; we just want to make sure you're okay. I think you're a lot like Sammy and think you can handle stuff, even if you can't, and by blocking it like this, it probably doesn't seem like a big deal anymore, but it is still 'cause it's still there and still needing to be healed," I told them.

Jonas looked at me and answered, "I get it, and we'll do what you said. And thanks, guys — it was really tearing Harry apart, and the twins too."

"They weren't the only ones," Danny said gently as he wrapped a startled Jonas up in a hug.

"Busted!" Peter said softly as he smiled at his big brother.

"Me?" Harry said. "I could see what it was doing to you, and you were trying to be strong for the rest of us, too, and it was draining you, bro. Don't do that, we're a team now, and you don't have to carry everybody like you tried to do."

"That's the worst thing in the world, Jonas, and something far too many people do. I understand, I really do. Sammy is like that, always looking out for everyone else and thinking he can't burden others with his worries, concerns and fears, even his dad. Kevin is right in that; I think you're a lot like SamSam, in that respect at least. You have to learn to let others in and share. I know you think you can't, and I know you think you have to be strong for everyone else, but you don't. You really don't. You all will be stronger for sharing the burdens that arise between you. It will bind you together and make you something much more than you are now. It'll make you a family in the truest sense of the word. Each person in a relationship, no matter what that relationship is, brings something special and unique to the table, and combined those things make an even bigger result. It's that final result that makes it possible for you to face together what alone was too much for any one of you to handle. It's letting the others in that relationship see you scared, alone, doubting, hurting as well as brave, steadfast and loving, that make what you have and will have together something special. Without it, you'll never be what you could be, and without it you'll never truly be anything but alone. I know it's the scariest thing you'll probably ever have to face, because letting others in to that extent exposes your innermost self, and it requires a deep level of trust, which is hard for most people to engage in. But it's in that trust and sharing where you'll truly find your love and family, Jonas; it's where the heart of everything lies. Let them in, son, let them in and let their love fill you up and support you, not just in the good times, but in the bad ones too, because that's what will make the good times even better, because of those shared bad moments," Dad told Jonas softly, gently but also firmly. Harry gently underscored Dad's words by singing quietly "I took the good times, I'll take the bad times...." as he finished.

"Listen to the man, son," Maureen said to Jonas.

"I am, mother, dad," Jonas said to her and to Judge Josiah, who was obviously waiting his turn to say the same thing.

"So maybe we ought to head out for Orlando for the party?" Harry asked, to find Randy and the twins echoing, "Yeah, party!"

"There are some things more important than parties," Dad said, shaking his head but smiling

Six little faces turned towards Eric with disbelief plainly written there, as Drew asked "Like what?"

As they all broke out in giggles at the look now on Eric's face, Peter transported the lot down to Orlando, where the mass giggle fest which was occurring suddenly appearing amongst them surprised quite a few kids already presen

End of Kevin Carlson's Perspective

---

At Camp Bam Bam

Tony walked back from Malinda's room with her, bearing a bemused expression and vaguely thinking he'd lucked out again. The buxom blonde seemed all too willing to chat him up, and maybe more — as evidenced by the arm he felt around his waist. That she had some idea of playing soldier was something he could deal with, if it meant having a willing girl that looked like that — and he had little doubt that he could get her in bed with a little effort.

"Okay, back to main hangar bay," Malinda said as they arrived at the ubiquitous elevators. The elevator arrived, and a voice from a 1940s movie said, "What floor, modom and sir?"

"Knock it off, Daileass!" Malinda said, hiding a smile. Boyish giggles replaced the voice.

As they exited into main hangar bay, Malinda led Tony back to the munitions locker area. She was surprised to find only Mike Bowen and Keith Randolf there.

"Jory had to leave for Orlando," Mike said after greeting them. "He said for us to use Tony to help with inventory." Malinda flashed him a thumbs-up and led Tony over to where some long, large wooden boxes, with handles at each end, were lying. She bent and grabbed a handle in each hand, and lifted the ends of two boxes to waist level. "Get the other ends, will you, Tony?" she asked.

Pleased to have an opportunity to show off for the girl, Tony stepped to the other end of the boxes, bent down, and.... "Damn, those are heavy!" he said, straining to try to lift them.

"Oh, that's right, you're normal," Malinda said. "We enhanced types forget about that. Think you can handle one box?" She grinned.

Feeling sheepish, Tony hefted the end of one box. Together they carried it out to the Demo. team work table in the main bay, and hefted it up onto the table.

"What's in those boxes, anyway?" Tony asked.

Malinda's smile was broad as she answered, "Oh, just C-4 explosive."

---

Dan came awake as Gordan entered his cubicle. After eating, he'd dozed off, woke up and ate some soup, and then dozed off again. Gordan glanced at the monitors, nodded, and said, "I want to check you over," confirming Dan's worries. He tensed up. Gordan professionally checked blood pressure, heartbeat, and all the other indignities that doctors group under "taking his vitals." Then he said, "Lift your legs and spread 'em; I want to check your anus." Knowing what to expect, Dan did so, hoping that Gordan might at least make him enjoy it, as Jerome had at first.

Gordan slipped on a rubber glove, spread Dan's cheeks, touched his butthole … and looked. Just looked. Dan was confused.

"That's healing up fairly well from when you were penetrated," Gordan said, "but I think it needs more ointment. Would you prefer having me put it on, a nurse put it on, or doing it yourself?"

"Huh?" responded a now-confused Dan.

"Can I be blunt?" Gordan asked.

"Sure."

"Okay, your anus — your butthole" (he clarified as Dan looked baffled) "— is inflamed from when that man was penetrating you. It's healing, but it needs to have some ointment put on it to help reduce the inflammation and promote healing. You get to choose who puts on the ointment — me, a nurse, or yourself. I don't want you to be embarrassed by it."

"Huh?" Dan repeated, totally mystified now.

"Look, put this stuff on your butthole, or have me or a nurse do it — your choice," Gordan said, wondering what was confusing the boy.

"Okay," Dan said, thinking 'At least he's gonna use lube.' "I guess I'll do it myself." he said.

"Well, we can pull that tube out of your arm now," Gordon said in a friendly voice. Dan smiled wanly.

The doctor set to work, removing the IV feed and placing gauze and a bandage on his arm where it had fed in. "Bet that feels better," he said. Dan nodded, wary of what might come next.

"Now, you can sit up to read or watch TV — here's the controls for the bed — but I don't want you up and about until tonight at the earliest. You've got a lot of strength to regain, young man." Gordan was mock-stern, trying to jolly Dan out of whatever was eating him. Dan remained stressed.

"Okay." Gordan said, "I'll leave you to your own devices. As soon as we can, there'll be somebody around to give you a hand. In the interim, don't hesitate to ring for a nurse. By the way," he continued, checking Dan's chart, "what have you eaten today?" Seeing that he had only had soup since his light breakfast, and not eaten lunch yet, he strode purposefully to the phone, and called in a meal order. "All right, I'll see you at evening rounds. Don't forget to tell them when you get hungry, or if you need anything."

And with that he left, leaving Dan confused.

---

"Dr. Gordan?" Tony was hesitant at the clinic door. Things were not what he had expected. First, the guy in charge, the one he'd been told to report to, turned out to be a shrimp, just a kid. But the others, even adults, were treating him like he was actually the boss. Then Malinda. Tony felt turned on by the thought of her. Blonde, built like a..., and flirty as they came. He just knew he could get in her pants with a little effort; she was hinting outrageously that he turned her on as much as she did him — and that was quite a lot. But her reactions were not what he expected. First, she was strong — she had more strength and stamina than he did, and wasn't afraid to show it. Girls just didn't do that — it was no way to catch a guy. And she kept acting like she was a soldier with a mission. Weird!

They'd been working away inventorying and shifting things, sweat making their clothes cling to their bodies (and he felt a twinge of lust remembering how she'd looked) when that Daileass kid who never showed himself but seemed to have control of the P.A. system, had piped up. "'Lin?"

"Yeah, Dail'?" she had answered.

"Message from Chang. They need warm bodies up at the Clinic. They've got doctors and nurses trotting bedpans and carrying meals for lack of enough help. I found a few volunteers, but d'you think you could send Tony up to give'm a hand?"

"Sure thing, Dail'." She'd turned to Tony. "Sounds like you're needed, stud!" She'd run her hands down his chest and thigh. "Catch me after you get done there, okay? I'll be lookin' forward to an evening with you." Abruptly she turned, motioned a little brown-haired boy who was barely four feet tall over, and said, "Frankie, can you spare a minute?"

"Sure, M'linda! Ronnie just had me checking the birds to be sure the MRE stocks on board are up to regs. I need to head down to Six and get some anyway."

"Thanks, little bro. On your way, take Tony here to the Clinic. He's new, helping out, doesn't know his way around yet." She kissed him on the forehead; he grinned and hugged her.

"C'mon, Tony!" the kid, evidently Frankie, said. "I'll show you where it is." And he walked off, motioning Tony to follow. With an eye back at Malinda's figure, Tony walked off behind him.

As Tony finished remembering, which had taken almost no time, Gordan looked up from the chart he was annotating. "Hello, Tony!" he said warmly. Tony was glad to know that here at least there was an adult in charge. "Daileass the all-knowing said Malinda was sending you up to lend a hand." Boyish giggles from nowhere and everywhere echoed after that comment. ""The ward I want you to lend a hand with is right down there." He pointed. "There's a little kid in room one, leg in traction — his foster father broke it knocking him downstairs." Gordan looked angry. "He just needs to have a bedpan trotted for him. The kid in room two is not expected to regain consciousness for a couple days. His uncle beat him into a coma. You probably won't need to do anything there — but if a nurse needs help with him, jump. When you're done with the bedpan run, wash up and get a light meal from the dumbwaiter at the end of the hall — Daileass will guide you. Take that to the kid in room three. He's recovering from two weeks without food to speak of, and two years of being a man's sex toy." He paused. "And see if you can get him talking — he seems nervous around adults. His name's Dan." He looked Tony in the eye. "Think you can handle that?" Tony smiled and nodded. Running some kid's crap didn't sound fun, but the rest of it didn't sound too bad. And at least he wasn't humiliating himself in front of a girl he wanted to get into bed.

---

Camp Bam Bam Clinic

Trying to put bedpans out of his head, Tony carried the tray with a grilled cheese sandwich, a small cup of tomato soup, and a glass of juice in to Dan. The younger boy was clearly in his teens, but he looked awfully small in the hospital bed. He idly wondered why the kid's portions were so small. "Hi," he said. "My name's Tony. And they told me to bring you this stuff."

Dan smiled. Finally here was somebody that wasn't a doctor or nurse. And he looked, well... Dan put those thoughts out of his mind; he knew what people thought about boys that thought other guys looked hot. "Hey," he said. "Cool! I'm hungry!"

"You want me to take off while you eat?" Tony asked. "I'm just supposed to hang out and help out around here, but I don't want to bug you while you're eating if you want to be left alone."

'Take off what?' ran through Dan's mind. Involuntarily he giggled. "No, I'm bored," he answered aloud, hoping he could get Tony to stay. "I've just read that muscles chart over there for the third time, is how bored I am!"

Remembering Gordan's instructions, 'see if you can get him talking,' Tony said, "Sure, if you don't mind, I'll just pull up a chair and hang out. How come you're in here, anyway?"

"I... um... well, um..." Dan said, not quite sure how to explain.

"Hey, I wasn't pushing you!" Tony said. "It was just trying to make conversation, get to know you."

"Nah, that's OK," Dan said. "I just didn't know where to begin, and some of it's kind of personal, y'know?" This big good-looking guy seemed to really want to be his friend; he wasn't a doctor or nurse, doing what they had to 'cause he was a patient. He edited down his story on the fly, to avoid telling Tony anything he shouldn't know, anything that would make him look down on Dan and go away.

"I, um, got brought here because I didn't have anywhere to stay and hadn't eaten for a bunch of days," he said. "This oriental kid came in acting like he was a doctor, and said I needed to get my strength back. I don't know what's gonna happen after."

The kid didn't have anywhere to go? Tony had no reference point for that. He felt himself being drawn out, wanting to help the kid — something of a new sensation for him, but one that fit with what he was supposed to be doing here. "How come?" he asked. "Didn't your parents take care of you?"

"Parents?" Dan scoffed. "My father threw me out!" he said angrily, then, realizing he'd given something away that would lead to the wrong questions, the ones that would make Tony hate him, he closed up.

Realizing he'd pushed the wrong button in Dan's psyche, and afraid Gordan would be mad, Tony backpedaled fast. "Hey, I didn't mean anything by that! I just can't believe a father would throw his kid out! C'mon, eat your food. I won't ask anything more!"

"So how come you're here?" Dan asked, relieved to be free of questions that would give too much away. "You don't look sick, and you're not a doctor."

It was Tony's turn to be nervous — he didn't want to tell this kid what had led to him being here. "Well, um, I, um, got into a little trouble, and they told me I needed to do some community service. So I, um...."

"You volunteered to help out here for your community service?" Dan jumped to the wrong conclusion.

"Yeah, kind of like that. Guys I know from school arranged for me to come here and help out," Tony edited the truth a bit.

"That's so kewl," Dan said. "I'm glad you're here!"

"You are?" Tony was puzzled.

"Yeah, sure. You're a nice guy, and it's cool to have somebody to talk with that's not a doctor or nurse." Dan was pouring it on, wanting to keep Tony hanging around. He slurped down the last of his soup, burped, and looked embarrassed. Tony chuckled, and they shared a laugh over it.

"Thanks!" Tony's ego was stroked by Dan's enthusiasm, and he was also pleased that he'd made the connection that Gordan wanted him to try to make.

"Um, look," Tony said, "I don't want to snoop, but what happened? Your father threw you out last week, and you got sent here because you're homeless?"

"Um, no," Dan said. "He threw me out two years ago. I've only been homeless for two weeks." He wasn't sure how to avoid explaining about his relationship with Jerome, but he really wanted to keep Tony around if he could. Then he remembered about the ointment. "Um, Tony? Please, please don't take off! I really like talkin' with you. But, um, well...."

Tony's eyes asked a question.

"Well, it's like this — the doctor gave me an ointment I need to use. Couldja turn your back for a minute or two while I put it on?"

"Hey, sure!" Tony said, gratified that the kid was opening up to him like Gordan had wanted. He turned away. Dan lifted his legs up, his hospital gown flipping back onto his chest, so he could reach his butt to put the ointment on his anus.

His head turned away, Tony saw the reflection of what Dan was doing on a shiny stainless steel cabinet. The image of Pen preparing himself for buttsex flashed into his mind — reinforced by the fact that both Pen and Dan were small of build. Involuntarily, he began to feel a slight arousal — and guilt at thinking of this poor kid that way.

Dan finished his treatment, brought his legs down and covered himself with hospital gown and sheet again, and said, "You can turn around now." Tony turned back to face him; Dan noticed the slight bulge, and found it a turn-on, on the hunky young Italian boy.

"Um, my father started yelling at me and told me to get out, I was no son of his," Dan said. "That was two years ago. I grabbed what I could, and ran. We lived out in the country, and there was a truck stop about three miles away, where the Interstate came through. I walked there. I didn't have any money, or any plans either, but I knew I had to get away."

"There were maybe a dozen trucks stopped there, and a few cars. The guys in the trucks were asleep or something; their engines were running but the lights were off inside. But people just walked by me like I didn't exist. I just sat down and cried."

"That was where Jerome found me," Dan continued. "He walked up and stood in front of me. I looked up, and he asked me if I was hungry. I said yeah, and he said to go in and wash off my face, and pretend I was his nephew. I thought he was an angel God had sent to save me."

"He bought me a meal, and then took me home with him. And he bought me stuff, and took care of me. I loved him. God forgive me, I loved him. I thought he loved me too."

"Then I started growing up, and I wasn't the little boy he wanted any more." Dan's voice was very soft now, and he was fighting tears. "And he told me... he told me I had to leave. I... I camped out in abandoned buildings...." Dan stopped suddenly, aghast at how much he'd revealed.

Tony was startled. This was beyond his experience. "Hey, you're here now, and getting better," be said, hoping to give the kid some kind of hope.

"Yeah, but, but... there's nobody around but doctors and nurses, and I don't know what's gonna happen when they let me out of here!" Dan was wound up, and seriously wondering if he'd end up being for Gordan what he'd been for Jerome.

Tony began to get a clue why Jonas had sent him here. With more assurance than he really felt, he said, "Well, I'll be here, every chance I get. And I'll make sure you have somewhere to go."

He was not prepared for what happened next — Dan jumped into his arms, finally letting the tears out. He held the younger boy tight, realizing with some discomfort that all he was wearing was a hospital gown with no back, that his left hand was on Dan's bare butt, while Dan's leg was pressed up against Tony's groin, and that the cumulative effect of the two sensations was starting to turn him on. Shaking off this feeling, he said again, "You can count on me, Dan," and realized he meant it, that he was committing himself to help the kid, whatever it took.

---

In Arkham, the previous evening

Danny O'Ryan was all smiles as he and Tanya came in the door. Kelly looked up, pleased. "Hey there, sprog! You look chipper!"

"Hey, ma! I just met Cody. He's Lisa's brother and he's like totally cool. He took me out on her bike and showed me all around the place and stuff!"

Brian looked over from his meal. "Hey, young man! If I can schedule a spot on your busy social calendar, I need to winterize my truck. Long as I've finally got a boy around the house who isn't drooling over Tanya, I want to take advantage of it. Think you'd be willing to give me a hand?" Brian's dry humor was belied by the warm smile he gave his nephew.

"Sure, Uncle Bri! I don't know much about it; Stan said I wasn't any good with my hands. But I'd like to try." Kelly and Brian exchanged a jaundiced look at that comment.

"I'll bet you pick it up fast," Brian reassured him. "You're bright, and it's not anything tricky to do, just a bit time-consuming." He and Danny exchanged smiles.

---

And in Orlando

"Of course, sir. I'll tell the boys." Rina hung up the phone.

Sylvia looked up with concern written across her face. "Something wrong, dear?"

"Not really. Jed and C.J.'s grandfather asked if it would be possible for us to come up this weekend. He'd like to see the boys, and he wants to show Mickey what he's done to adapt the part of their house Mickey set aside for him."

"That doesn't sound too terrible," Sylvia said reassuringly.

"It isn't, really. But after Monday, I feel uneasy around the man. I know he has the boys' best interests at heart, but...." She let the thought drop off unfinished.

Sylvia motioned Mickey over to her. "That transporter thing you boys have access to — is there any limit to how many it can carry?"

"Not really, Sylvia. The Starfleet personnel units can accommodate up to twelve, although they prefer not to send that many at once. But it doesn't take long to transport, so you could send a big group ten or twelve at a time. And I don't know what limit Ark has, or the Mikyvis either for that matter."

"Well, then, if you don't mind an old busybody traipsing along, I think maybe I'll join you on this little jaunt to Maine. You two don't need an old man pressing you to do what you don't want, and the best corrective for an old man who thinks he should be in charge, is an old woman!" She gave them a broad grin.

Jared slipped over and gave her a big kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Sylvia! Um, are there any vacancies in that grandson roster that Raffy's on? I think I could use a gramma."

Sylvia's hug was answer enough.

---

Thursday morning, in a quiet forested area

Flanked by a Security squad and an Engineering Technician Petty Officer, R'Kau transported quietly onto the grounds of the Eternal Word Retreat Center. He drew a deep breath; the cool, pine-scented air was nothing like home, yet strangely bracing to the Vulcan. He motioned two men toward the office; the others formed up behind him, and they advanced with steady step on the Rec. Hall.

They entered, to find a Bible study being conducted in the main area, comfortable chairs arranged in a double semicircle on a carpeted area. To one side, a coffee urn and boxes of doughnuts were ready for refreshments.

"Under the provisions of Section 10(c) of the treaty between the League of Nations and the United Federation of Planets," R'Kau stated formally, "I declare this hall a police zone. I must ask you all to rise and file over there." He gestured to an area opposite the refreshments, well removed from either door. As the retreatants rose and obeyed, the protests of two dying to silence as they saw the drawn phasers of the Security men, two of the Security team and the Petty Officer moved the chairs back from one end of the semicircle and lifted the carpet.

On the floor beneath were the telltale circles and circuitry of a transporter stage.

The two men detailed to the office entered just then, marching the retreat center manager and his assistant before them. They unceremoniously motioned them over to stand with the retreatants.

R'Kau's stern visage cut across the cowed retreatants. His voice was, in contrast, gentle. "You humans are members of the Fundamentalist Church of Christ, a group that for its crimes against humanity has been outlawed by the Federation and by my planet. Nonetheless, we have found that some good people have been duped by the F.C.C.'s leadership. I offer you a choice. Your meeting place here is the location of restricted technology. But it is possible you knew nothing of this, nor of the evil it was used for. Your choice is simple: submit to a Truth Reading by me here and now, or be detained as suspected criminals until you can be tried in human courts or by the Federation. You have my word that no secret you hold which does not amount to a crime against my people will be divulged. But I must assure myself of your innocence before you can be permitted to leave."

"Wh... what will you do?" a querulous older woman asked.

"I will rest my hand on your forehead," R'Kau answered, "and send three questions into your mind. You will not be able to help thinking of the truthful answers to those questions. If you are innocent of any crimes against my people, you will be free to leave. I recommend but cannot compel that you find a new church home, one which does not send out death squads to kill innocent children." All this was delivered with a stern implacable emotionless monotone.

"You swear this by the way of Surak?" a burly man in slacks and sweater asked.

"I do," R'Kau answered.

"No Vulcan would forswear himself; I am convinced," the man said. He stepped forward and inclined his head. R'Kau reached out and Read him using kahs-naf,Vulcan mind touch. Inspired by his example, the retreatants came forward one by one. As R'Kau finished with each, one of the Security men motioned them to leave. The fifteenth person, a dark-haired man in a casual suit, stepped back after being Read. R'Kau made an almost imperceptible gesture with his free hand. Out of the line of sight of the retreatants, another Security man moved to intercept him as he headed for the door.

Finally all the retreatants had been processed, and it was down to the retreat leader, the retreat center manager and his assistant, and the man who had been detained.

R'Kau looked at them. "Arrest Mr. Rigsby there for child abuse, and hold him for Clan Short to pass sentence," he said, motioning to the man who had been detained. He looked at the other three. "Your lives are forfeit under law," he said bluntly. "I shall mind-meld with each of you to recover the information we need in order to eradicate the evil you have aided and abetted. I regret the pain I shall impose on you in the process."

He instituted the mind-meld on the assistant. As he broke from it two minutes later, the man slumped to the floor weeping. The manager broke for the door. The lieutenant commanding the Security squad brought him down with his phaser. R'Kau looked a question at him. "Stun only; I know you need to read him," the lieutenant answered. R'Kau walked over to the prone figure, knelt, and melded with him. A look of disgust moved fleetingly across the Vulcan's otherwise impassive face as he rose.

He walked up to the pastor who had been leading the retreat. "I do not fear you, but the God who made you and me alike," the man said steadfastly to him.

R'Kau made no answer, but reached out and began the mind-meld. When he concluded it, he looked at the man. "Your faith is not in accord with c'thia," he said. "Nevertheless, it is yours, and not mine to change. I have in mind to make you a gift. You will not be pleased at receiving it, but it may bring about a change of heart, what you term a life-changing experience. Will you accept my gift?"

"Do I have a choice?" asked the man rhetorically.

"You do," R'Kau answered. "Under human law, you stand innocent of crime. But under Vulcan law, your teachings have led to great pain for many. And you stand accused under Vulcan law. I offer you the chance to atone, to make amends for the evil you have abetted. Will you accept my gift?"

"Let 'er rip!" the man said. "I fear no man, nor Vulcan either."

Into the man's mind R'Kau poured images and feelings: Eric Carlson's grief when he believed Kevin had been killed; Arlo Russell's hate and his son Hunter's pain; Alexander Fraser's grief at learning of Eddie's death; Kyle's grief and shock at seeing Jamie with his head bashed in; George Wentworth's sense of grief and impotence as he sat by the dying Philip's bedside in another universe's Key West; image after image, feeling after feeling, a tidal wave of pain and grief. At last he stopped.

"Your Jesus said, 'if anyone brings harm to any of these little ones, it would be better for him if he were to have a millstone tied around his neck and be dropped into the depths of the ocean.' Do you think him pleased at what you have caused?" R'Kau's dark eyes burned holes in the retreat leader's soul.

The retreat leader turned to the lieutenant. "Shoot me now!" he said earnestly. "If I caused that much pain, I do not deserve to live."

R'Kau's Vulcan strength turned the man's head until human and Vulcan locked eyes. "That would be too easy a death for you," he said. "Your task is harder but more rewarding. You know the truth now — the evil that your church did in his name. Your task is to go out and tell the truth, to change hearts and minds to the way of truth and love, as once you turned them to hatred and wrath." He gestured to the door. "Now go!"

While all this had been going on, the Petty Officer had been working steadily, removing essential parts from the transporter stage. Now he signaled thumbs up to the lieutenant, who gave orders to pick up the inert form of the manager, formed the others up into a compact group, and then called for them all to be transported out.

---

Outside the Elementary School, Franklin County

"I'm still not sure this is right," Bobby said.

"Your mother and I both understand your point," Skipper replied. "They've been through a lot. But psychologically the best thing for them is to get back to as normal a routine as possible. Your mother was right on that, and I'm embarrassed I didn't see it myself. And school is the one good thing from their old life that stays the same."

"I suppose," Bobby said dubiously. "C'mon, guys, we're here!"

"That was fun!" Brandon said as he unbuckled the patient restraint belt holding him in place during the ride. Skipper made a long arm and helped Andy with his. "Can we do it again sometime, with the lights and siren?"

"Um, no," Bobby said. "We can only run Code 3 — lights and siren — if we're going to an emergency or transporting patients to the hospital from one. And where you were riding, we'd need for patients." Both younger boys looked downcast. "Tell you what, though," Bobby added, "Mom, Skipper, and I can teach you first aid if you wanna learn it. And if you can pass the proficiency test, you'll be able to help us out sometimes, when there's a real emergency."

"Really!?" Brandon was enthusiastic.

"You bet!" Skipper said. "That's how Bobby got started, and now he can do everything I can — well, almost. There's a couple of things my Navy certification lets me do that his EMT doesn't cover. But if I was a normal EMT, and not a ex-Navy corpsman as well, we'd be equally trained. And by the time you're the age Bobby is now, you could get there too, if you want."

"Yeah!" Brandon said, clearly excited by the idea.

"Time to calm down now, though," Skipper said. "We need to go in and change your registration so it shows you live with us and they should call us in emergency, and that sort of stuff, then you can go to your classes. Ready?" He picked up Andy, who was still a little sore despite time on a biobed from the beatings he'd received from his former grandfather; they walked into the school.

"Hi, Mrs. Peacock!" Bobby said cheerfully as the four of them entered the attendance officer's cubicle. "We need to...."

"Hello, Robert, James. Oh, good, you brought the Jessup boys!" Elaine Peacock interrupted him. "You can run along over to the high school now, Robert. James, thanks for dropping them off. You two, I'll need an excuse from your grandfather why you were absent yesterday."

Bobby was torn between instinctual response to instructions from authority and a burst of anger at her attitude. Skipper placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Bobby went to shrug it off, took one look at Skipper's face, and visibly restrained himself.

"That won't be the case, Elaine," Skipper said firmly. "You are mistaken on at least three counts. First, their grandfather's guardianship was terminated Tuesday night by Lt. Col. Chang Casey of the Clan Short Special Forces Unit under the Federation Safe Haven Act. He's presently in jail on a shopping list of child abuse charges. Second, as of last night Bobby and I were named guardians of both boys. We came in today to have their records changed to show us as guardians and the boys' new residence as ours."

"I don't appreciate practical jokes in my office, James," Elaine said haughtily. "If you'd said Grace or you had been granted guardianship, I might have believed you. But Robert is a minor; there's no way a competent authority would make him another child's guardian."

Skipper's brow darkened. His normal sanguine temperament served him well in emergencies; he rarely got upset or angry. He could, however, feel the anger building inside him. "Elaine, you have my word as a medical professional that this is not a joke. Now, do the job you're paid by the taxpayers to do, and get out their records so we..." his gesture included Bobby and their boys "...can make the necessary changes."

"I will do no such thing without proper paperwork from a court!" Elaine said hotly.

Watching Skipper operate, Bobby had as usual learned something, and had swallowed his temper as well. Now he touched his commbadge. "Daileass? We need a uniformed courier here with a transcript of the Tribunal awarding us guardianship of Brandon and Andy, stat."

"Roger wilco!" Daileass had synthesized a deep adult male voice, correctly guessing the problem; the unexpected timbre startled Skipper and Bobby, but Elaine didn't notice.

At Camp Bam Bam, Daileass alerted helicopter copilot Lisa Kingston, pulling duty in the 'copter crew ready room. Her short 'military' haircut and the scar on her face from when Phantom had been shot down on Saturday made her look older than her 17 years. "Quick courier duty, Lisa. Printout coming out of your printer … now. It's going to Maine, and they need someone who looks the part. Willing to volunteer?"

"Sure."

"Thanks. Wear your cover. Get the paperwork, and stand by for transport, both ways."

Daileass's positronic brain and the assorted processing bays that allowed him to manage Camp Bam Bam's internal operations single-handed had correctly assessed the need to impress. Lisa was unusual among Unit members in that, needing an unusual degree of identity and self-respect, she normally wore her Unit undress uniform rather than fatigues, and she looked like a young adult in them. He had printed the transcript using the formal letterhead Sarek used as Ambassador of Vulcan in his Earth correspondence, reasoning correctly that this was ultimately being done on his authority.

It was less than a minute later that blonde, blue-eyed Lt. Lisa Kingston popped into existence in the elementary school attendance office, in full uniform. She flashed a smile at the tall brown-haired EMT, came to attention, and said crisply, "The transcript you called for, sir."

Skipper returned her salute, said, "Thank you, lieutenant," quickly reading her rank insignia, and she signalled Daileass to beam her back. Elaine's jaw dropped. Skipper turned to her and said drily, "I trust this will suffice you," handing her the paperwork. "Make copies; I want the originals back."

Elaine was reviewing them. "This is garbage," she said. "Look here; it claims the McConnaghay boy was the remanding authority."

"That," Skipper said steelily, "is because he was. Now, either do your job or call your supervisor — immediately."

Bobby had been looking gleeful at Skipper putting the officious attendance officer in her place — until he saw the boys' faces. They looked terrorized by the hostility. That decided him. He drew both boys into his embrace, reached out with the arm around Andy, and punched the intercom button on Elaine's desk. "Principal Beveridge, please report to the attendance office. Principal Beveridge to attendance office," he said in his best approximation of an 'official' voice.

As Bobby released the button, an angry Elaine reached for the intercom, with the obvious intent of countermanding the page. Skipper had not missed Bobby's drawing the boys to himself, and that had made him notice their expressions. Now he reached out and restrained Elaine's arm. "I'll have you two arrested!" she said.

"Actually, we've been trying to prevent your being arrested, because up until now I could understand your reasons for questioning the placement," Skipper answered equably but with firmness. "But as of now, you have called my word, Bobby's, Jonas's, and Sarek's into question. And that cannot be allowed to stand."

Edwin Beveridge walked in the door just then. The young Bostonian had been principal of the elementary school for three of his 26 years, his entire professional career. There had been doubts when he'd replaced the venerable long-time previous principal when she retired, but after three years the school board's decision had been vindicated — he had an uncanny knack for mixing compassion and authority in precisely the right mix for the occasion. His first year at the school had been Bobby's last.

"What's the problem here?" he asked as he walked in.

Bobby took the lead. "Back when I was in sixth grace, you told me to treat you and your teachers with honesty and respect, and I'd get honesty and respect back. So I did, and you did. That hasn't changed, has it?" He conveyed politeness with just a hint of irritation in the tone he took to address the principal.

"No, it hasn't, Bobby," was the answer.

"Then would you kindly straighten out Mrs. Peacock here? Skipper and I were made guardians of Brandon and Andy here last night, and we came straight here this morning to get the enrollment records changed. She's as much as called Skipper and me liars, even when we sent for a transcript of the Tribunal that gave us custody."

Beveridge cocked an eyebrow at Elaine. "It's absurd on the face of it!" she said snidely. "A man and a 14-year-old boy as guardians for boys of eight and ten?"

Without a word, Skipper picked up the transcript and handed it to the principal. He looked it over. "This seems in order," he said to Elaine. "Why would you doubt it?"

She angrily pointed to Jonas's name as remanding authority. "Tell me that's not a joke!"

Beveridge essayed a thin smile. "Okay, that's not a joke," he replied. Elaine's face registered shock. "Didn't you read the Governor's Proclamation?" he asked. "I had it posted all over the school. In fact," he went on, rubbing his chin, "pull out the files for the Wentworth twins. You'll find they were remanded to George Wentworth's custody by Jonas. You'll find that in matters regarding children or law enforcement dealing with the F.C.C., Jonas is the supreme authority in this state, as head of our local division of Clan Short."

"Now, Elaine," he continued, "kindly change the enrollment records for these two as Skipper directs."

"Yes sir," she said in a small voice. "I was positive this had to be a joke."

"Even after Lt. Kingston beamed in with the proof you asked for?" Bobby shot at her.

"Um, I think, as members of Clan Short, we'll need something more," Skipper added. "With me on duty most of the time, if you need to contact us, Bobby being right next door at the high school is who should be the principal contact. And after our experience today, I need assurance that his authority over our wards will be recognized by this school."

"Given your experience today, I think that's a quite reasonable precaution to request," Beveridge agreed. "Well, Elaine?"

"I'll … respect his authority," she said in a cowed voice.

"Thank you," Beveridge responded. Turning to Bobby, he said, "From what I've heard the past year, I think you've matured enough that this isn't necessary. But thinking back to when you were here, you'll understand why I need to ask it. You will use that authority responsibly, not throwing your weight around because you can, right, Bobby?"

"You've got it, sir!" Bobby said, grinning at shared memories of sixth grade. He turned to Elaine and, adopting a quasi-Vulcan demeanor, said, "Mrs. Peacock, if it is a matter involving these two boys or a medical emergency here that Arkham EMT is called in on, I shall be speaking as the adult in charge. Under any other circumstances..." he broke the Vulcan stoicism and gave her a broad smile"...I'm a kid you can tell what to do. Is that fair?"

"Well done, Bobby!" Beveridge said, as Elaine grudgingly gave her assent.

---

Orlando Compound

As the nine giggling boys, plus a gently chuckling Sheriff Eric Carlson, materialized on a grassy area in the Short Compound, totally disrupting a game of "pass and run" among some of the older boys, a clearly relieved J.J. came running up to meet them, smiling broadly. "Kewl; Dad and Gabe and I've been waiting to try to help, but it looks like the mind meld worked!"

"What mind meld?" asked a mystified Harry.

Randy Carlson spoke up. "My brothers and I put in temporary blocks to keep them from thinking about … uh, what happened. But we haven't mastered teaching non-telepaths how to manage their minds Vulcan-style. And the twins didn't compartmentalize right until we reminded them to, so somebody should take a look at their feelings too."

"The kashkau-hakausor Sarek sent...?" J.J. asked. himself confused now.

"Say what?!" Philip asked.

"Whenever one of us must judge a capital crime, or carry out an execution, Sarek always has a … well, you'd call it a psychiatrist in English … trained in how to aid someone to deal with the feelings that result, there as fast as possible, to help you through the process by mind-meld. I am certain he sent one; he always does." J.J. was concerned now. "What exactly did you guys do?"

Danny spoke up. "We don't have the training to help right, so we just put in a block — all the memories of what they did, and all the feelings connected with it, are locked off, so it's like something they remember that happened to them a long time ago. Best we could do with what we've learned so far. We told 'em they needed to get it fixed as soon as possible, though."

"I think we all need to talk to Dad … right now!" J.J. said. "C'mon, he's expecting us."

Peter spoke up just then. "Um... there's a bunch of things. First, messing with my brothers' minds is something I'm … not allowed to do. That is, I can, some stuff, but I have to force myself to override a block Levi put in, for really good reasons, until Ty trains me how to do some stuff. It's kind of like forcing yourself to do something disgusting — you don't unless you absolutely have to, to save a life or someone's sanity.

"Second, Uncle Eric, Uncle John — J.J.'s Pop — is going to want your help with something in a few minutes — he just doesn't know it yet!" Peter giggled, the perfect image of a little boy who knows a delicious secret. "'N' I think he's gonna want you two to help as well," he continued, pointing at Randy and Kevin Carlson.

"Third, I just ran projections, and you're right, Randy," he said at the other Randy, as his twin Drew nodded emphatic agreement. "When you go see Dr. Dan, ask him. That means they're going to need your help," he added at the youngest Carlson, Danny.

He then turned to Jonas and Harry. "You two need to talk to Dan, Gabe, and J.J., before … well, something's going to happen at the party, and you need to have this conversation first."

"Finally, I need to be two places at once up north in just a couple minutes, so I can't be here as well," he concluded. "In fact, I need to leave right..." he vanished, leaving the word "...now!" hanging in the air behind him.

"Woah! Does he do that a lot?" J.J. said, looking a bit stunned but giggling.

"What, vanish?" Jonas asked. "He's always popping in and out."

"Well, that too. But I meant that whole list of stuff that sounds a little mysterious."

"Nope. I think he was a little rushed — which sounds odd for a Mikyvis, but that's my brother for you." Jonas chuckled, an expression of affection for his new adoptive brother clear on his face.

"C'mon. Dad and Gabe are in his office, and Pop's office is in the F.Y.S. building too, so we're all headed for about the same place." J.J. led the way, pointing out his and Adam's house on the way. "Okay, you guys need to..." he began, as they entered the F.Y.S. building.

"Got it!" Randy Carlson interrupted. He grinned. "You were broadcasting the directions, you were trying so hard to make 'em clear for us. See ya!" And he and Kevin led their father away in the direction J.J. had been pointing.

J.J. led Jonas, Harry, the Wentworths, and a curious Danny into Dan Richardson's office. No one was there but a small black-and-white kitten curled up asleep. on a windowsill. "Where are..." Harry started to ask.

Gabe's voice rang out. "We're in here, in the Group Room." J.J. grinned, and led them through a door into a comfortable-looking room. Large enough to feel airy but small enough to seem intimate, the room was in all shades of gray. Two couches and three easy chairs, in wildly clashing styles, vied for space with dozens of throw pillows of all shapes and sizes, from one monster Drew could have lain on full length with space on all sides to tiny 10"x8" ones. Two of the chairs and many pillows had color accents to keep the grays from being oppressive.

Dr. Dan occupied one of the easy chairs; Gabe was half-sitting half-reclining on the carpet against the front of the arm of one of the couches. "Make yourself comfortable, guys," Gabe said.

"And we mean that literally," Dan added. "Relax where and how you would if you were chilling out with friends — that's what this room is for." J.J. fitted action to his father's words, flopping down in an easy chair with head against one arm and legs draped over the other.

Jonas smiled, grabbed two pillows, and flopped down on his stomach on the floor, using the pillows to elevate his shoulders and head. Harry draped himself in a semi-reclining posture on the couch Gabe was in front of, letting his legs sprawl down its length. Drew climbed up next to him, leaning back across his waist. Harry wrapped one arm loosely around the little redhead, who grinned at him.

Randy climbed up onto the lap of J.J., who hugged him close. "Roo was right; you do give the best cuddles," he said. J.J. beamed.

Philip sat somewhat stiffly on the other couch. Randy looked over and said, "Relax, big brother. You've been so tense we could use your nerves for archery practice." He jumped up, caught Danny's eye, and they gathered up pillows, carrying them over to where Philip was sitting. Acting as a team, they arranged them and then pushed and pulled Philip into position, so that he was lying down with his head and shoulders elevated and turned towards the rest of the group, supported by pillows. Danny reached out his hand to the side of Philip's head and concentrated; slowly the tension left Philip's body. Randy went back to J.J. After a few minutes, Danny grabbed two pillows and walked over, lying on his back against Jonas's side with the pillows under his head.

"Well, guys," Dan began, "I know about what you did this morning, and how you felt about it. Judge Brewster asked me to talk with you about how you're feeling about it now."

"They're not, Dad," J.J. interrupted. Dan gave his son a surprised and slightly angry look. "Literally, Dad — the Trinity suppressed their feelings until somebody with the right skills can help them do Vulcan-style processing of their emotions, like happened in our mind-meld after we executed Calvin. Danny, you want to explain?"

"We don't have the skills yet to help them do that," Danny said, "so we did the next best thing — all the feelings they were having during and after the judging and execution are locked off, as though it was something they went through years ago, and time's healed over the feelings since. It's kind of a band-aid, but they needed something immediately."

"What they really need," Gabe said, "would be a mind-meld like we got." He touched his commbadge. "Seth? Is Grandfather available? Or Solak or Xain?"

"Grandfather Sarek is … somewhat tied up, with Admiral Morrow right at this moment," came the answer. "Solak went to Baltimore, to provide a consult on a nerve degeneration case he was asked to advise on. I can locate Xain and send him to you, if you want."

"No." Dan spoke up. "I have been working with Xain on his mind-melds with normal humans, by being his test subject as he learns new techniques. I'm probably the one non-telepath human being who can say with most assurance that Xain is not equipped yet to do what you need done."

"Okay. Thanks, Seth. Michaels out." Gabe signed off.

"So what now?" J.J. asked.

"I think we need to grab the first N-Gen that's free with the right skills: Jace, Nath', Jamie and Jacob..." Danny said tentatively.

"No, we wait on Jamie and Jacob," Drew said decisively.

The others sat upright and looked at the seven-year-old intently. "Why do you say that, son?" Dan asked in an encouraging voice.

"'Cause they know Philip's mind from when they was training us," he answered. "And, 'sides, Jacob knows some stuff about Harry and Jonas's minds from back when they first got involved, when Jed and Ceej's parents got killed."

"So you think their greater insight and background warrant waiting until they're free?" Dan asked.

"Yeah." Drew was looking stubborn. "I don't want anybody else messing around in Philip's mind; he's balancing too much stuff already."

Randy hopped up and looked Philip square in the eyes. "Do you trust us, Philip?" he asked.

"Sure," the stocky teenager answered, with a slight reserve to his tone of voice.

"All the way?" Randy pushed.

"Yeah." A pause. "Yes, I do. As much as I need to, always."

"Thanks, bro. You'll understand why I'm asking, in just a minute." The little redhead turned to Dan Richardson. "Dr. Dan, you learned how to put someone in a light trance in college, right?"

"Why, yes, I did. I haven't done it often. But hypnotherapy is sometimes the proper course of treatment when someone has repressed...."

Randy grinned. "Ever since Philip has been trying to remember the stuff Pa Eccles was involved in, he's been having really bad dreams. Crap that hurts him's been coming to the surface. What I thought of, and Peter said to go ahead with, is have Dr. Dan put him under. Then Drew 'n' me will go in and bring all the stuff that's been botherin' him up to the surface of his mind — and as we do, Danny can do with it what he did with the stuff from today. Then it won't be eatin' at him like it's been doin', and he'll have clear memories of the stuff he needs to recall about the F.C.C. after Jamie and Jacob get done."

"An interesting idea," Dan said.

"Even after that, though, I'm going to insist they get a chance at a mind meld," J.J. said. He was all business now, acting as Director of Security. "I don't know how to explain this to you guys and to you, Dad, but after a Vulcan's helped you sort the stuff and store it away, you get to choose what and how much to feel about it. Some of what I've had to do — especially remembering last Saturday — I couldn't deal with if I didn't have that skill available."

"Agreed," said Gabe. "You guys will need that, to deal with how you feel afterwards."

"You need to be able to trust me, at least some, for even a light trance to work, Philip," Dan told him.

Philip lifted haunted eyes to Dan. "Can you help me stop hating?" he asked. "I never felt real hatred before, but after this morning and knowing how those men felt about what they did...." he let what he was saying drop off unfinished, the underlying thought clear.

"I can do that," Dan said.

"Or I can lock that off for you, until you can process it Vulcan style," Danny offered.

"Something I got out of today that I would have been just as happy not knowing," Jonas mused, "is how a sociopath feels. I've always cared about people; it's something that's been there since I was little. But enough of the caring got locked away, and enough of the attitude those men had stuck in my memory, that I can actually understand what makes somebody like that tick. It's not a good feeling."

If anyone planned on answering that, they were distracted by the sudden appearance of Kyle, who said to his big brother, "J.J., you're needed on the Enterprise right now They vanished together.

Philip sat up startledly. "What the heck?!" he exclaimed.

"No worries, bro," Harry said reassuringly. "It's just Kyle; he's just like Peter, only without most of the hugs."

Kyle appeared again "Super Random Snuggle Attack!" he giggled and disappeared again, after fitting word to action.

"Never mind," Philip giggled. "I get the message." He lay back down. "I think that — being startled and then the laugh — was just what I needed to relax me. Go for it, Dr. Dan!"

---

Third Grade Classroom, Franklin County Elementary Sch0ol

"Big baby, can't take a scolding without crying," Willy hissed under his breath. Sniffling, Andy instinctively pulled away from his tormentor.

"I said I expected your attention to be on the lesson," Mrs. Farrell said. "William, Andrew, if I have to speak to you again...." She let the thought drop off unspoken. As she turned back away, Willy poked Andy with a pencil.

"Owwww!' he squealed. "Cut it out, Willy!"

"That will be quite enough, Andrew," Mrs. Farrell said. "You have disrupted this class quite enough."

A little boy with dusky blond hair at the classroom door drew her attention just then. "Why, hello, Peter," she said. "What brings you here? Shouldn't you be in your fourth-grade class now?"

"No, ma'am," he answered, smiling sweetly. "I'm here for Andy."

"Oh? Bring his pass to me, please."

"I'm sorry; I don't have any paperwork for him. But he needs to come with me." Peter's tone was polite and earnest.

"Well, I certainly cannot let him leave with you without authorization from his grandfather or the office." Mrs. Farrell was prepared to be patient with the Lambert boy; he'd been well behaved most of the time last year. But she certainly was not about to let him bend the rules.

Peter thought back over last year. Mrs. Farrell wasn't mean, by Peter's standards, she could even be fair. But she was not just, and rarely was she compassionate — and then nearly always to a girl. Politeness, however, usually won her over, and Peter was nothing if not polite.

"Ma'am, it's my responsibility to take Andy and his brother for treatment for abuse. I didn't stop to pick up any paperwork. Will you excuse us now?" It probably wouldn't work, Peter thought, but it was worth a try. Andy was standing there watching him, not sure what to think.

"Now look here, young man, I don't know what you're trying to pull over on me, but if Andrew were scheduled for medical care, I would have been notified. I am, after all, his teacher; his grandfather would have sent me or the office the proper documents to release him. I have a good mind to call your aunt and have her get to the bottom of this." Mrs. Farrell had made up her mind, and there was no changing her once that happened.

Peter grinned inside, keeping his face straight and respectful. He reached out with his Mikyvis skills and closed a rarely-used circuit in the P.A. system, the one that activated a microphone in the room ceiling, and caused it to feed to a speaker on the principal's desk.

"Mrs. Farrell," he said, "I have never lied to you, and I am not about to begin lying to you now. My aunt abandoned me to die last month. Judge Brewster and his fiancée are in the process of adopting me. Andy and Brandon's grandfather is in jail for a long history of physical and mental abuse of them. Their new guardians are not yet aware I showed up here, but I know for a fact they will back what I'm doing."

"Andy," he continued, adopting an emotionless Vulcan demeanor, "was in the hospital in Utah the night before last, in critical condition. Despite high-tech medicine, he's still in some pain — which is the reason he's had trouble concentrating today, and has been trying not to cry in class." He quickly scanned Andy's short term memory. "Three times today you have bawled him and Willy Lester out, when all Andy was doing was reacting to Willy's teasing and poking at him — and you didn't bother to find out who did what; you just scolded both equally. You did the same thing last year when Becky broke Joey's prized souvenir pencil out of sheer cussedness, when Michelle kept pulling Sherry's pigtails, when Billy kept sniping at Paul over being sad that his pet cat died, and when Skinny grabbed my grandpa's pocket watch away from me. You never ask who's at fault, you just scold everyone. Now letting Willy keep it up will result in permanent psychological damage to Andy, and it is my duty as a member of Clan Short to cause it to stop, and to instruct you, in the name of Sarek of Vulcan, not to allow it to continue. I will be taking Andy and his brother to some skilled therapists, and you will be following their instructions if he is returned to your class afterwards. Do you agree to abide by these instructions?"

Principal Beveridge had been standing in the classroom door for the end of this. As Mrs. Farrell angrily turned on Peter, he said, quietly, "Stop, Dorothy." Startled, she looked over at him. With a neutral expression on his face, he motioned toward the door. "Would you two boys and you, Mrs. Farrell, please join me out in the hall?" A slight pause. "You too, Willy," he said to Andy's erstwhile tormentor.

Quietly, they filed out into the hall. "You students continue with the work you were doing; no talking," he said firmly to the class, and closed the door.

In the hall, he turned to Peter, "You are a member of Clan Short?" he asked Peter.

"Yessir, and Andy and his brother are under Clan protection," the little Mikyvis answered.

"Do you give me your word as a son of Vulcan that what I overheard you saying to Mrs. Farrell is the truth?" the principal asked.

"Yessir," Peter replied. He was feeling a little nervous now — while he could vanish, and even take Andy with him if needed, this could cause problems for the kids, for Bobby and Skipper, and potentially for his father-to-be, Judge Josiah.

"Your class does have an unusually large number of discipline problems," Beveridge said to Mrs. Farrell in a casual tone.

"The children won't settle down and apply themselves, and there's a real lack of respect from them," she answered him with a touch of haughtiness.

"Children should be polite to their elders, unless they're given real reason not to be," he commented back to her. "But true respect is earned — it's a two way street; the children need to know they can count on you for fairness and justice."

Peter had been scanning Willy. Now he spoke up. "You know, you can tell him about what your aunt's been doing. That's not right!"

Stunned, Willy looked at him. "How'd you know...?" he asked.

"Tell you later," Peter said.

"Dorothy, I'll see you in my office after school," Beveridge said. "You three, come with me."

"Now you've gone and done it — we're in trouble!" Willy said angrily.

As Mrs. Farrell stepped back in her classroom and closed the door, Principal Beveridge, who had begun walking down the hall, stopped. "No, Willy, you're not in trouble other than I'm going to ask you to apologize to Andy for picking on him today." He paused. "Peter, you said you were going to take Andy to therapists?"

"Well, yeah," Peter replied. "Dr. Dan Richardson at Clan HQ down in Florida, and the Dodds brothers — they're Vulcan trained and have helped a lot of abused kids. But there's a special party going on today down there, that Andy and his brother would have fun at, and I think they need that as much as anything, after what they've been through."

Beveridge smiled. "You may be right about that. Fun is nature's anodyne for the pains of being a kid, and we adults tend to forget that, unless somebody like you reminds us." As they continued walking, it became evident to the boys that they were not headed for the principal's office, but rather for the nurse's office.

They walked in to find Bobby kneeling by a couch, feeling of Brandon's abdomen. The two younger boys looked startled; Beveridge's eyebrows went up.

Bobby looked up, and smiled when he saw Peter. "C'mere and check this out," he said to the little Mikyvis. "I think Chang missed a bruised spleen when he was treating him."

Peter didn't miss a step, but scanned Brandon's insides. "Yep," he said. He concentrated. "I toned back the pain," he said, "and started natural healing. I don't want to try to regrow it because I'd have to go too far back. Half an hour on a biobed, and he'll be good as new."

Bobby nodded, relieved. "I thought that was what it was, but without any instruments, I couldn't be sure." He noticed Andy. "What's with him?" he asked.

"Getting picked on, and a teacher who didn't care," Peter answered. "I heard him hurting, so I came."

"C'mere," Bobby said, holding his arms out. Andy fearfully slipped quickly into them, and Bobby hugged him tightly."

"I will be having a talk with his teacher after school, Bobby," Beveridge said to him. "I'll let you and Skipper know the outcome of that discussion. If needed, we'll move him into the other third-grade class. It sounds, though, like the school needs a medical history on these two."

"I'll make sure you get one," Bobby said. "They were treated Tuesday night at the Camp Bam Bam Medical Clinic; I can get the records fairly rapidly — as you saw this morning."

Peter had been concentrating on Willy. "You don't need to worry — nobody is going to send you away or anything," he told him. Willy's head whipped around, with a shocked expression. "But you do need to tell the whole truth about your aunt. Nobody should have to go through that." He drew a breath, "My new dad's the Family Court Judge, and I promise you he'll be on your side."

Peter turned to Principal Beveridge. "You need to call Sheriff Winfield, and get somebody down here to talk with Willy — I think probably Dad and Mr. Wentworth as well." He turned back to Willy. "Don't worry; I promise you it'll all work out."

"Trust him, 'n' tell the truth," Bobby said to the little eight-year-old. "I don't know what Peter knows, but if he's that serious about it, we'll be standing behind you too."

"How're you doing, Brandon?" Peter asked.

"Some better," came the answer from the couch.

"Ready to go?" Peter asked. Bobby nodded yes. Brandon gave a thumbs up gesture. Andy, cuddled up against Bobby, nodded his head.

---

A 'vacant' apartment, Quincy Street, Boston

Pat counted the money again, for what seemed like the dozenth time. It came out the same — not enough. Benny might bring something home, but it probably wouldn't be much. In a way, he begrudged Benny's weed, and in another, he didn't. Getting enough to stay high ate up most of what Benny took in tricks, but given how Pat himself felt after selling himself yet again, he understood why Benny needed it.

There was a chill in the apartment that the ancient kerosene heater he'd liberated from someone's trash couldn't lift. He was thankful for small favors — though it was cranky, he could usually get it to fire up … if he could buy enough kerosene to keep it going. And though it was tricky to balance a pan on top of it, he could make one hot meal a day — two if he cooked spaghetti and used the water for soup. The little guys had to eat, after all.

The expense of keeping Tory and Blakey was almost the only thing he and Benny argued about. The fourteen-year-old felt that the two preteens were old enough to go hustling with him; even at a year younger, Pat felt responsible for making sure that all they did was pose for ugly old Van Dorn's camera. The kids actually got a kick out of posing 'bare bottom', as Blakey put it, for the fat old photographer — they knew they were cute, and enjoyed showing off for him. And while he didn't pay them much, he also didn't expect them to do more than they naturally did anyway.

He added up the figures again: $25 to old Mrs. Framer in the front apartment, to keep quiet about them hiding out in the back apartment and to pay for the extension cord that gave them a room light and powered their ancient portable TV, on which the younger ones were watching cartoons now, cuddled together for warmth and comfort with a blanket around them; $15 for five gallons of kerosene, which would probably last three days. That left only $7 for food, but he could almost make it stretch if he hit the bread thrift store at the right time tomorrow morning.

He realized with dismay that he'd probably have to go out and turn a trick or two tonight in order to restock the larder, such as it was. He didn't mind the sex as such — like anybody else, he enjoyed getting his rocks off, and he could understand why the men did too. But two things grossed him out: first, most of them smelled, the mingled odors of confined crotches concentrated into one vile miasma, and second, it was all so impersonal. He hoped for Joe or Arthur (if those were their real names, which he doubted) to be looking for a boy tonight; while it was a transaction with them too, they at least treated him as a person they were buying a service from, and he thought Joe liked him some. They were nearly his only regulars; he didn't have the looks that some of the other guys did, and the other two men who picked him up regularly … well, one was demanding, the other demeaning, and both were gross.

The two little ones were giggling at the cartoons. That lifted Pat's heart. He'd never say it out loud, but he loved them. When Tory cuddled up to him at night, it was like he was saying, "I trust you, I know you care," to him. He'd staved off their complaints of hunger with the last package of HoHos from the thrift store. Though he knew that it was not enough and they wanted more, they were good kids, and realized he couldn't magic up food out of nothing. He glanced over at them. Blakey, eleven and blond, was pointing at the screen and giggling; Tory, ten and dark-haired (Tory was short for Salvatore) was doubled up in mirth. Pat's heart warmed at the sight.

When Benny got back, the four of them would probably cuddle up for a nap, sharing body heat and likely rubbing off on each other, mix and match in whatever combination they fell into today. He was intrigued by how Benny was always up for sex, literally and figuratively, even if he'd scored down in the financial district. Benny was smart; while there was a lot of competition for tricks at night, he'd realized that the men who worked the banks and brokerages might be horny during the day, and perfected a technique of sitting outside the august institutions, pretending to be boredly reading while waiting for a parent or something, making eye contact with the men who passed him by. More often than not, one would stop and talk with him, and half the time, he could parlay that into a morning trick that usually paid well. With the right story ready and told in a voice convincingly irritated from having to wait for a parent, he could fend off any policeman who questioned why a boy of school age might be hanging out there. When Benny'd started this routine, he had always waited until after he turned a trick to smoke up, realizing he needed to stay sharp-witted to pull it off. But lately he'd been getting high before going out for his morning 'tour of duty', as he jokingly called it. That made Pat worry; what if Benny couldn't successfully pull off a scam while high?

The slam of the building's front door roused Pat from his reverie. It was followed by rapid footfalls, and Benny came running into the apartment. "I think I lost 'em," he said breathlessly.

"Who?" Pat asked with a sinking feeling.

"Cops," Benny answered. "I was doing my usual thing, leaning against the wall down in front of Morgan Stanley, when this one cop asks me what I'm doing there. I give him the story about how I'm waiting for my mother, with a doctor's appointment thrown in. But I guess he'd asked me before, and I didn't remember what I told him then. I ran, and he called a car to chase me. I'm pretty sure I threw them off the track before I came back here, though."

The sound of the building's front door again opening interrupted Benny. Hushed, they heard the knock on Mrs. Framer's door, and the voice saying, "Police; open up, please."

---

At the Throxton Mansion

"It's that bad?" exclaimed Mr. Throxton, with a concerned look on his face that mirrored Doug's. The two boys had stayed home from school, in expectation of going to Orlando for the planned party, and were there when Grace and Todd had shown up.

"Yessir," Todd replied seriously. "Logan tasked me with making sure you guys up here were safe, and nobody has adequate security, not even you. These guys consider themselves professionals..." he waved the report Throxton had given him contemptuously "...but I'm twelve, and have only been doing security and intelligence for a couple months, and I can see a half dozen holes you could lead a parade of elephants through."

"I'd never worried about it since Skipper came back and moved in," Grace said. "You don't think of Arkham as a place where anyone's going to attack or rob you."

"I think what happened at Maureen and Jonas's last Saturday, along with the Templeton murders, puts the lie to that," Doug said firmly. "That, and what if Tony'd been a gay basher conning Pen the way those guys did Matthew Shepard? I hope I'm not out of line, sir, but it sounds like something's gotta be done."

"You have recommendations, Todd?" Mr. Throxton asked.

"Yessir, I do." The young blond clone was earnest. "Really, the best move would be a secure compound, like we have in Utah or they've got in Orlando. But Mrs. Johnson was quite emphatic that they didn't want to be shut off from the town...."

"I can just hear Abbie now," Grace said with a chuckle, which Pen senior echoed.

"...and what I'm suggesting is a good second best. It'll need real-time monitoring, though, and between electronics and keeping alert people on duty, it might get expensive." Todd sounded apologetic.

"Hang the expense," Pen senior said. "Money can be replaced; dead or permanently injured people you care about can't. Show me your plans!"

And for the next half hour, Todd did just that.

"I simply listed the electronic-alert badges because that's what we're using at Camp Bam Bam," he concluded. "But unless you're planning mass rescues here, you probably can do without them."

"Mass rescues?" Grace asked.

"Yeah." Todd explained, "We have over five thousand kids, plus adult professionals to take care of them, at Camp Bam Bam now. We needed the badges to make sure people could go where they were supposed to while keeping them out of where they shouldn't be."

"Five thousand?" Francis was amazed. "I can't believe there were that many kids...."

"That's nothing," Todd retorted, a hint of Logan's vehemence in his voice. "Best estimates are that there are over three quarters of a million homeless kids in America right now, nearly a third of them gay, lesbian, bisexual, or transgendered." And he began telling the stories of the runaways, the kids abandoned or thrown out, the orphans that fell through the cracks or were on the run to avoid the dangers of group homes or foster parents whose interest was in money not kids. All five sat spellbound listening to his stories.

The impact, however, was strongest on Francis. Son of a well-to-do family, partnered to his college roommate, with whom he'd started a successful business before their coming out had ostracized much of his family, he had simply had no idea of what some kids were forced to go through. And hearing about it hit him hard.

At last he interrupted Todd. "Pen, thank you once again for your hospitality. It's always a pleasure to visit you." He turned to the boys. "Pen, Doug, I want you to be sure to call on me if you need any help with anything. I know people always say this, but Pen, you've known me a long time. I mean it; Bernie and I want to do everything we can to support what you and your friends are doing. Don't take this as a socially proper offer; I'll be deeply hurt if I find out you failed to help someone where we could have provided the means to do it. Your father, Pen, is not that much more well off than we are, and we certainly don't have any kids to leave it to. We want to help, we need to help, for just the same reasons you boys got into this. I want your word that you'll be sure to call on us. Maybe it'll help make up, a little, for what we neglected to do for you, boy."

Pen looked at his father's friend and business associate, and saw the sincerity in his face. "We will, Francis," he said with assurance. "My word on it."

Francis smiled. "I'm headed back for Boston now," he said with a firm expression on his visage. "I've phoned Bernie during this visit, but I want to sit down with him and tell him what I've learned — and talk out what he and I need to do to help out." He paused. "Hmmm... how can I get a cab out of here?"

"You can't, not without paying an arm and a leg," Grace said. "But let me drive you down to the airport. You're helping the boys, so let me help you; one hand washes the other." She smiled; after a second Francis smiled back, and nodded.

---

Meanwhile

As Peter flicked out with Jonas, Harry, and their varied visitors, Maureen turned worried eyes to Josiah. "Are they going to be all right?" she asked querulously. "And what was that about an execution?"

"I think we need to trust that those who know what to do will do it, and that Eric's boys did what they could. I was following what little Kevin was saying, and, although I know only what everybody does about telepathy — Vulcans and all that — what he had to say makes sense to me." Josiah almost unconsciously drew her into his arms to comfort her as he spoke.

"Mmm, that feels good," Maureen snuggled into his embrace. "But," she said, tensing up again, "I worry so much about Jonas!"

"Dear, what you're feeling is nothing that the mother of any teenager hasn't felt, since the day Cain turned 13 and Eve started worrying that her little boy was growing up." Josiah smiled. "You did a fine job raising him, and it shows. Now it's time to trust yourself, and trust your son, as he puts what he learned from you into practice in real life. And most of what he's done the past month, from the moment he came home with Jed over his shoulders, has shown clearly that he learned his lessons well, that he's doing what he should."

"But to put men to death?" Maureen was aghast.

"He did what he had to do," Josiah said. "No one knows better than me what it's like to pronounce sentence on someone. With the way Maine's judicial system is set up, I spend most of my time as Family Court judge, so the most I'll do is send a kid for community service. But I have to fill in when one of the other judges is off sick or on vacation, so I have done sentencing. And you never get used to it — another man's life is in your hands. Whether he goes to prison is your decision."

"If I had, had twenty years to prepare Jonas for it," Josiah continued, "I could not have asked for a better result. He did just what he was tasked to do. He didn't flinch from it; he made the tough decision, and stood by it. Then he let it hit him, let it come home to him that he'd had men executed where they stood. And he bore up under it, and tried to comfort Harry and Philip for their parts in it. Be proud of our boy, Maureen Mavourneen; I sure am!"

Blushing at the pet name, Maureen nodded. "I don't deserve you, Josiah. What ever do you see in me?"

"I could ask the same, of you for me," Josiah replied. "Here I am, an old man nearly fifty, and a beautiful young thing like you falls in love with me, and I can't help but ask why? For me, though, the answer is easy — not only are you beautiful...."

"Oh, go on with you!"

"...beautiful," Josiah repeated, "But also what's inside is cut to the same pattern. You 'take no prisoners'; you demand that Arkham and Franklin County take you as you are, and you make them like it. 'Maureen's got her Irish up' and all that." He grinned at her. "You took being a single mother and made it work, you took a high school journalism class and turned it into a paying profession, and one that makes you fairly good money. You're not afraid to stand up for what is right — think about your exposés of Scordo, which I'll bet you've put out of your mind since he got arrested. And you've never seen a kid in need that you didn't try to help. How could I not fall in love with you?"

Maureen was blushing but wide eyed. "We never had this talk, Josiah, and I never knew...." She drew a breath. "I suppose you'll be wantin' me to 'show you mine' now?" she giggled a little at the wordlplay.

"Not if you don't want to," Josiah said.

"Oh, I'm willing. It's just hard to know where to begin." She paused. "It's a lot of things," she said. "The day I met you, you were as vulnerable as a man can be. You had just lost the wife that meant everything to you, that was clear. And this reporter woman had the effrontery to ask you to remember all sorts of little things about her for the obituary. And through it all, you were trying to do your job, to make things better for children that had nobody but you to rely on for justice. I couldn't help wanting to comfort you."

"I think that moment, when you did, was the moment I fell in love with you," Josiah interjected.

"It was a more gradual process for me," Maureen replied. "After Neil, I'd had my fill of men. Sure, I'd see someone on TV or in a movie, and feel a stir or two deep down inside me. But being married to Neil and with a baby, the adventure wore off fast. I was angry at him for leaving me for Kelly, that's the truth, but truth be told, I was just as happy to see him go. And I resigned myself to raising a two-year-old alone."

"Just as I resigned myself to childlessness," Josiah said.

"You never were childless!" Maureen said with a grin. "Every child that went through your courtroom was your kid. And Jonas counted on you for everything a father gives a son. That maybe was it — I saw your steadfastness, your rock-solid reliability, even when you were at your lowest. And that you reached out and loved my son as if he were your own — I couldn't help myself; I fell hopelessly for you, then and there." She drew him into a deep kiss, effectively stifling any answer from the judge, who was not at all upset at the prospect.

---

Here and There, late morning Thursday:

Jonas and Harry were talking quietly with Gabe and Dan at one end of the Group Room in Dan's office suite, while at the other, Danny Carlson and the twins gently worked to ease the mind of Philip, whom Dan had placed in a light trance, bringing up the repressed memories of his years under the harsh discipline of Jordan and Mary Eccles for the sake of what he could remember of their involvement in the F.C.C., and locking those memories off as the Trinity had earlier done with Jonas's, Harry's, and Philip's memories of the capital trial and execution they had just participated in....

Mickey and Sylvia, at their home, were in the process of fixing a brunch for the Templetons and McKendricks....

Peter, Bobby, Brandon, and Andy flicked into existence at the emergency entrance to Franklin County Regional Hospital, from which Skipper was in the process of exiting after collecting sume medical supplies for the EMT mobile unit. "Leave that here in your unit," Peter said. "We're headed for Orlando!"

Todd, Pen, and Doug were at the front door of the Throxton mansion along with Pen's father, seeing Francis off....

When suddenly their commbadges came to life. "Attention, Clan Short. This is Patriarch Cory Short. You are all invited to the Orlando Compound for an important meeting of the Family of Sarek. If you cannot attend, please send at least one representative from your Division. All are invited, and all welcome. Thank you."

"Can you run us over to the Short Compound?" Mickey asked Sylvia, as all five boys' eyes went wide. A solemn nod was his answer, as the sixty-year-old woman and five boys jogged to her van.

Todd signalled Daileass. "Three for transport to Orlando, stat!" The positronic brain at the core of Camp Bam Bam's computer complex giggled as he acknowledged the order, and beamed them out.

---

Short Compound, minutes later

Skipper, Bobby, Peter, Brandon, and Andy popped into existence outside the C.I.C. building, followed a moment later by Todd, Doug, and Pen. "What's going on?" Brandon asked. Clan members were running for the auditorium from every direction; guys from the Unit and the outlying divisions popping into existence and being motioned inside.

Down the pavement from the F.Y.S. building came the Trinity, Jonas, Harry, and the Wentworth boys, followed a few steps behind by Dr. Dan and John Martin. Peter popped out of existence and returned moments later with a group from Camp Little Eagle. Dylan flicked in with the Thompsons, with Rory Teeter but without Kevin, the Pierces, and the Winters. "Into the Auditorium," someone called out, and they all ran inside.

The boys from Maine found seats together, whispering to each other, "What's going on?" "I don't know!" and similar mystified comments.

Levi walked up onto the stage, and his eyes started to glow white. "...//I call to order the Conclave of Family Sarek of Vulcan//..." the Guardian intoned through the small Mikyvis, his voice resounding through the large room.

"Holy crap, what's that?" Brandon asked in a stunned tone.

"That's Levi; he's a Mikyvis, like Peter," Bobby whispered back.

Levi looked down at them, and now in his normal voice said, "I call Sarek, Patriarch of House Surak, Patriarch of Family Sarek, and the Lady Amanda his wife to the stage."

They both walked up, following the ritual and custom to the letter even if the reason for the meeting was hidden from them. They stood side by side at the centre of the stage.

"I call," Levi said again, "Spock, Heir of House Surak and Family Sarek, and Director Teri Short of Federation Youth Services."

Spock and Teri walked from the shadows and Spock took his place at Sarek's right. Teri stood to Spock's left, but unlike Amanda, she stood two paces behind the line. Teri being summoned, and in effect linked to Spock as 'partner', caused a sudden stir through most of the room.

"I call Division Commander Jason Evans, Patriarch of Clan Evans, Full Clan in the Family of Sarek, and Commander Nathan Evans." Entrusting a sad-eyed young boy with them to their sister Viccy, the two Welsh boys wordlessly joined the four adults on the stage.

"I call Fleet Commander Cory Short, Patriarch of Clan Short, Sub-Clan in the Family of Sarek, and Commander Sean Short, Clan Historian."

Both teens grinned as they walked to the stage and stood next to Amanda. Just as their mother, they stood two steps behind from the main line due to the differences between the two Clans represented on stage.

Levi turned then to face Spock. "Captain Spock, I hand the Conclave to you. I shall not speak again unless the Guardian of Forever needs to do so," he said formally, and stood to the furthest edge of the stage on Sarek's right.

Spock raised his hand in the Vulcan salute. "I greet the Family of Sarek, and welcome you all to our Conclave." He then stepped forward and turned to look at his father, "I request the Inar'tor, my Father."

Sarek looked at his son carefully, then looked to where Teri was standing. "The Accepting? You are adopting Teri Short's children?"

Spock did not reply; he could not, for Sarek had to either accept or reject his request first. As per tradition.

"Inar'tor is initiated," Sarek stated firmly. He gestured to his side and Spock, his eyes shining, stood back next to his father.

The room suddenly darkened, and a soft red light, much like the light of Vulcan's sun, bathed the room. From the end of the central aisle two small figures started walking, shadows playing over them.

It was Joel Short and Kevin Thompson. Kevin was dressed normally, but Joel wore a black Vulcan robe with silver runic symbols running down the right side of the chest. Around his neck, the St. Christopher medal was seen shimmering brightly. As they reached the steps leading up to the stage, Kevin gave Joel a deep, meaningful kiss, then waited at the foot of the steps.

Joel, something glimmering in his hands, walked up the few steps and onto the better lit stage. Standing before Patriarch Sarek, the little Vulcan trembled slightly, and a look of wondering awe and love was in his deep blue eyes. Sarek sank to his knees as Joel raised his hand to reveal that which he held; the Seal of the Family of Sarek.

"I request acceptance into thy family, Ti Sa'mekh'al," Joel stated formally, his little voice shaking.

Sarek just managed to follow custom and whispered, "And what... what is thy Name, and the Names of thy parents, youngling?"

Before Joel could answer, the 'Voice of Forever' started to speak. Levi stood forward, his eyes blazing forth in white light. He recited the poem that was the same in each and every Universe in Creation... in every one, but not Alpha Prime:

"...//All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those Forsaken are lost. The Blood that is strong cannot falter, Deep roots are not touched by the frost. FROM THE ASHES OF PAIN SHALL AWAKEN A FLAME THAT SHALL SAVE ANCIENT GROUND: RENEWED IS THE BLADE THAT WAS BROKEN... THE HEIR, PAST ALL HOPE, SHALL BE FOUND ..//..."

Levi became silent once more as the Guardian finished the recitation. Joel smiled slightly at Levi, then answered his grandfather's question, "I am Sa'ren, Child of Spock and T'Sara, Child of Sarek and Amanda. I am blood of thy blood, flesh of thy flesh, and heir of thy heir. Dost thou accept me?"

Sarek closed his eyes, trying to maintain a hold on his emotions that were already spilling forth. He could not, however. In a voice choked with feeling and joy, he answered, "Thou art my Grandson and Heir. I accept thee into my Family, Sa'ren, Child of Spock."

From around his own neck, Sarek drew forth his own Crest and Seal, and, just as Spock had carried the Family Seal that would have been Joel's, so to had Sarek carried the extra House Crest that would unite with it. He unfastened it, and took from Joel the Seal he held. Fixing them together, he hung the united Crest around Joel's neck.

Joel then found the Ceremony totally broken, for by simply touching his grandson, Sarek completely dissolved and pulled him into a tight, fierce hug: and Amanda was only seconds away from joining it.

Utter silence now lay upon the room as the entire Family of Sarek witnessed this most humbling of sights; that of the proud Ambassador and his wife embracing their lost grandson, and weeping unashamed before them all.

"Grandfather Sarek... in tears?" Jonas said quietly, his own reserve stunned. Danny Carlson caught his eye, and he remembered what the boy's father had said to him only a short time before: 'You have to learn to let others in and share. I know you think you can't, and I know you think you have to be strong for everyone else, but you don't. You really don't. You all will be stronger for sharing the burdens that arise between you. It will bind you together and make you something much more than you are now. It'll make you a family in the truest sense of the word.'

The twins started to dart forward, their single thought to comfort the weeping Vulcan who had accepted them as grandsons. Philip and Harry held them back.

"What's this all about?" Raffy asked Mickey.

"I don't know, for sure, little brother, but it looks like Joel's being accepted as Spock's son and Sarek's grandson," Mickey quietly answered back.

"Like we were made Sarek's grandsons?"

"No, like as in blood kin, like we were Dad and Mom's kids, of their bodies," Mickey explained.

Raffy's eyes went wide. "Kewl! He really needs a Daddy!"

There was banter on stage between Jason and Cory. The boys chuckled. Then Cory stepped forward, and pulled from his robe pocket a rolled parchment. He moved to centre stage, and addressed everyone. "This," he said, holding up the parchment and letting it unroll, "is the Charter of Clan Short."

Everyone there remained silent. The silence would not last however... Cory tore the Charter in half. He handed the pieces to Levi, whereupon the two halves burst into flames.

"Clan Short, Sub-Clan of the Family of Sarek of the House of Surak, is no more," Cory announced to the shocked room.

The boys looked on in shock. "But... but... everything we've done depends on..." Harry stuttered, realizing that the trial and execution they'd carried out that morning was legally valid only because they represented a Vulcan sub-clan given authority under the Safe Haven Act. With a sinking feeling, he realized that without the Clan, they might be liable for murder in a state court.

"What's he doing?" Jed asked, aghast.

Cory proceeded to retell the events which he and the other Shorts and the Family of Sarek had participated in over the past two hours to the gathered kids — that what had been Sub-Clan Short was now that rarest of Vulcan kinship groups, a full Family-Clan — and when he finally stopped talking, the silence in the Auditorium was palpable.

"I think you broke them," Joel's giggle completely shattered that silence, bringing giggles from various places in the room. He grinned at Cory from Sarek's lap, for the Ambassador was seated on the floor, his wife at his side, and Joel was being quietly passed back and forth for extended periods of snuggling. "Shall I get the super-glue?" he giggled.

"Don't give them ideas, Lil'elf!" Cory burst out laughing, and the room started laughing with them. He then looked down at his grandfather and said softly, "Dad says that you have to make this final, Grandfather. Until you do, there is no Clan, nor a Family."

Sarek looked back up at the blond teen and nodded. "My son's logic is flawless. I endorse a new Family into my House. What do you want your Family's name to be - Family Short?"

Cory traded a long look with Sean and then around at the others in the large Auditorium. He eventually settled his eyes on Jason and smiled, "The world and the Federation know us as 'Clan Short', and it would be confusing to suddenly change the name on them. It is logical for us to be Family 'Clan Short', Grandfather."

A cheer went up from the massed group assembled, and could be heard from the speakers where those not present were listening in via the comm links.

"Then so it shall be," Sarek said as he handed his tiny grandson over and into Amanda's arms and stood to his feet. "I shall make the necessary calls to Vulcan now, High Councillor."

"What!" exclaimed Jared in the midst of the pandemonium.

Harry was glad he'd studied Vulcan history. "Okay, you know how Vulcan is set up, Jared?" he asked. "Everybody's part of a House, and within that House a Family?"

"Yeah, we were a Clan within the Family of Sarek, 'cause we were brothers to Justy, who's his grandson," Jared answered.

"Well, it gets as nutty as some of the odd inheritance cases in English law," Harry said. "But the bottom line is, the Shorts have no living sa'mekh, biological father." Jared nodded. "And they swore brotherhood to Justy, so that meant they were part of Sarek's Family, his grandsons by oath of brotherhood. That was why Clan Short originally got started."

"Yeah, I understand that."

"But Cory and Sean not only swore brotherhood to Justy; they swore brotherhood to Joel too," Harry went on. "And unlike Justy, Joel's, first, heir by blood to the Family of Sarek and House of Surak, and second, his mother is dead."

"Well, sorta," Peter giggled. "Her katra is still around, inside Joel."

Harry brushed off that detail. "Her body's dead. Hey, between Jonas's father, Mikey, Pablito, and some others..." across the room, Brandar caught his eye and gave him a toothy grin "...it seems, sometimes, like this Clan has almost as many dead people as living ones!" A round of giggles accompanied that comment, including some with no body present to do the giggling.

Harry got serious again. "Anyway, there's a Tradition on Vulcan — and you know how they are about tradition — that when the heir to a House, who is missing a parent, swears brotherhood to boys in a family who are missing the opposite parent — one missing the father and the othr the mother — what this does is to create a whole new Family, where the surviving parents stand as sa'mekh and ko'mekh to the whole lot. We stopped being a Sub-Clan and became a Family Clan. And there hasn't been one of those since Surak's time."

"Wow!" said Raffy. "That's like, way back when there were saber-toothed tigers and all that sort of thing." Taron and Marie came up just then and grinned at him toothily, tails held proudly high.

"You might want to rethink how you said that," Peter giggled, scratching the saber-toothed kittens' necks. They purred.

---

And at Camp Bam Bam, later in the day

"Professor Plum did it in the library with the candelabra," Tony guessed as Malinda and Gordan walked into the room. Dan giggled and showed him the 'library' card. Tony grinned; he'd got the younger boy talking about himself, some, though he was obviously still keeping some things back, and he was clearly in a better mood. He looked up, and his grin widened at the blonde bombshell standing there smiling.

"Time to poke and prod you again, Dan," Gordan said with forced jolliness. Dan cringed a bit; Tony noticed. Gordon put stethoscope to ears, listened to Dan's heartbeat, took his blood pressure, and all the other indignities of a typical physical. After a few minutes of this, he asked, "How are you feeling? Have you been eating?"

Tony smiled. "Man, has he! He had me running snacks for him like it was the first food he'd...." He stopped aghast as he remembered Gordan telling him that his exaggeration was in fact the exact truth — it was Dan's first meals in two weeks. "Oh, God, I'm sorry, Dan!" he exclaimed.

"'S all right," Dan said, ashamed of the fact and desperate not to lose his new friend.

"If you two would excuse us for a moment," Gordan said, "I need to check something rather personal." Dan cringed, knowing what was coming. Not noticing, Gordan pulled the curtain.

"Please stick around," Dan called out to Tony as he did.

With Malinda and Tony present, Gordan thought it wise not to give verbal instructions, to avoid embarrassing his patient. At his gesture, Dan laid on his back, rolling the table with the Clue game to one side, and with experience brought his knees up to his shoulders. Gordan had no way of knowing this had been Jerome's abrupt way of letting Dan know he was ready for sex. He bent down and looked closely. "It looks better but it's still inflamed, Dan," he said. "Did you put any ointment inside?" Nervously, Dan nodded yes. "I think another dose is in order," Gordan said professionally. "Okay..." Dan answered with all the enthusiasm of a mouse that a cat has just invited to dinner.

"Are you okay, Dan?" Tony asked, reading something into the changed tone in his new friend's voice. "Um, yeah!" was the unconvincing response. "I'm coming around there," Tony said. "You sound scared." He walked around the end of the curtain, and felt an involuntary surge of lust at seeing Dan in the position he remembered Pen taking so well — especially with his libido stirred up from having Malinda at close quarters.

"What's going on!?" he demanded of Gordan.

"My butthole's inflamed," Dan explained embarrassedly. "Dr. Gordan's been having me put ointment on it to bring the swelling down. That's what I had to do, right after you brought me lunch, when I had you turn away; remember?"

"I know, Dan; I saw," Tony said, a little embarrassed himself. "I wasn't trying to spy, honest. But you see the stainless steel cabinet there?" He pointed. "You reflected perfectly off that. I didn't want to say anything, to keep from embarrassing you."

"You did?" Dan asked. "And you weren't grossed out or anything?"

"No, you're my friend," Tony said, surprising himself with his honesty. "It was something you had to do, to get well." Dan's face was full of hope.

"He needs another dose of ointment to help bring down the swelling," Gordan volunteered.

Remembering the times he'd fingered Pen, Tony surprised himself. "You looked pretty spazzy before, Dan, trying to keep your legs up with one hand and put the stuff on with the other, Want me to put it on for you?"

"Really? Sure!" Inside, Dan wasn't quite sure why he was so enthusiastic, but the hunky Italian teen was somebody he trusted and maybe even cared about; he wasn't prepared to admit it was desire yet; but for his new friend to volunteer to do something that gross...!

"Will you excuse us, please?" Tony asked Gordan, taking the tube of ointment from him. Dan relaxed, and Tony stepped up to the bed, squeezing ointment out onto his right hand, and then helping hold Dan's legs up with his left as he deftly rubbed ointment onto Dan's sphincter with the other.

"Don't forget he needs a little inside, too," Gordan said as he stepped around the curtain to join Malinda. Tony gently slipped an ointment-laden finger inside Dan, who moaned.

"Did I hurt you? I'm sorry," Tony asked solicitously.

"You didn't hurt," Dan said shamefacedly; the reason for his moan stood proudly.

Tony took in the shame on Dan's face and the erection with one glance, and knew what he needed to say. Once again he edited the truth. "Don't be embarrassed, Dan," he said gently. "I had a friend back home that had to have this done; that's how I knew what to do. And he'd get the same reaction. I've seen it before; it's nothing to be embarrassed about, it's a natural reaction."

The relief was written all over Dan's face. Tony smiled at him. 'Thank God I did that for Pen," he thought; 'this kid was really panicky about it, and I knew the right thing to say.' He flipped Dan's legs back down, and arranged his hospital gown over him.

Gordan pulled back the curtain. "Well, your vitals are looking a lot better," he said to Dan. "Want to get up and walk around a bit?"

Tony, washing his hands at the sink, grinned over his shoulder at Dan. "Sure!" Dan said, feeling reprieved and happy. Then, remembering how he was dressed — or not dressed — he looked at Malinda. "Um...."

"Hey," she smiled at him, "I grew up in... a sort of military barracks for kids. I've seen more boys' butts than the average gym coach. Don't worry about me!"

Dan gave her a wan smile. "C'mon, bud, up 'n' at 'em!" Tony said, hoping to reassure him (and cover up his startlement at Malinda's comment). Dan stood up, a trifle wobbly at first. Tony grabbed his arm firmly for balance, and Dan started to walk around.

"Lookin' good, kid!" Malinda encouraged. They walked down to the dumbwaiter, where Dan's dinner was waiting. Malinda took it out. "Keep spotting him, Tony," she said. "The first time back on your feet after being down and out with sickness or injury, you need a spotter — and most boys won't admit it." Gordan nodded agreement.

She set Dan's tray down on his table, and lowered it to fit the chair Tony had been using earlier. "There you go, Dan!" she said. "C'mon, Tony, they're serving dinner for us, and I'm starved."

Dan looked at Tony. "Will I see you again sometime?" he asked in a small voice.

"Hey, I told you — I'll be here for you," Tony answered, "I'll be back tomorrow if they let me work up here."

"I think I can guarantee that," Gordon said. "We really need the help. Malinda, let Jory know we'd appreciate keeping him, will you?" She smiled and nodded.

The two 15-year-olds took off for the cafeteria area, where they shared an excellent meal. Each was trying to draw the other out in conversation, and both succeeded. They left the table clearly interested in each other, just as the group who had been in Orlando came in to eat. Malinda waved cheerily at them; several flashed her a thumbs-up gesture.

"What's that about?" Tony asked.

"You," she answered with a wink, as she led him to the elevator and to her room.

"Um, they never assigned me a room when we were at Intake," Tony said to her.

"Didn't you catch what Daileass said?" she asked. "You're bunking in with me." She gave hum a flirtatious look.

The expression on Tony's face defied description.

 

---

Authors' Notes: Portions of this chapter were co-written by Dark Star, and the help and character loan from Roland, Iluvantir, and ACFan is gratefully acknowledged. However, this chapter was disapproved for posting by The Fuzzy Sandwich, who was last heard muttering imprecations on people who eat pie.

— D&B

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Clan Short Archivist Review Notes: As usual D&B have done a wonderful job bringing more of the characters' depth to the surface. Not only that but they have again melded their story seamlessly into the whole that is the CSU.

Now as to Mrs. Peacock and Mrs. Farrell let's just say the jury is still out on them.

The Story Lover