Jim Ellison carefully lowered himself to the bed, rolling onto his left side. As gasp rose in his throat, met ruthless determination and died before it could be uttered. Despite his caution Jim cast a quick glance towards his closed bedroom door, breath held. No, no one had heard. Of course, "normal" people wouldn’t be able to hear that tiny aborted sound, not like he would have. His back throbbed with each beat of his heart, phantom echo to the slap of leather from his father’s belt.

Damn Stephen! He’d stood there, silent, eyes begging Jim to forgive him yet again. Well, Stephen wasn’t a little boy anymore, too young to face his father’s wrath, he was nearly as tall as Jim, slender but strong. "No more, Stephen," Jim whispered into the pillow clutched to his face, "I can’t take any more for you." Four years older, loving his brother more than life, Jim had begun to accept the blame for anything either of them did wrong. With the blame came the punishment. Spankings gradually became whippings even as Stephen went from toddler to boy and still those eyes turned to him, begging. Jim ignored the flash of triumph he thought he saw once in a while and remembered only the adoring face, so like his mother’s which had been terrified of their father.

Jim squeezed his own eyes shut, ignoring the silent fall of tears.

He hurt - inside almost as badly as outside. Once upon a time, Jim had thought shouldering his brother’s punishment would not only spare the child pain, but weld them into a pair able to withstand their father’s temper. How could he have been so wrong?

Since Jim always accepted responsibility for every misdeed done by either of them, William came to view his eldest son with contempt saving his praise for the son he perceived complying with his wishes. Stephen appeared, not only obedient, but had never shown the slightest signs of Jim’s own "freakish" nature, a double blessing to William Ellison.

That in itself would have been agony to the young man if only Stephen hadn’t betrayed him. Basking in their father’s approval, able to manipulate his brother with only a look, Stephen Ellison did what he had to, to become William’s pride and joy. That included ridiculing his older brother’s extraordinary abilities.

"I hate this," Jim whispered again. "I want to be like everyone else. Please," he prayed, "let me be like everyone else." But nobody was listening and in that moment of his greatest weakness sensation overwhelmed him just like it had at every crisis point in his life so far.

Head whirling, pounding as afternoon sun seared his eyes, and sounds from downstairs hammered his skull, Jim fought for control.

He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t keep the world at bay and moments later smells from the kitchen, the yard, the street brought a wave of nausea crashing over him, capsizing his tenuous hold. Jim hauled himself to his knees, ignoring the feel of blankets beneath him like fire ants eating his palms. Shaking, sweating with the effort to move, Jim knew he had to make it to the bathroom before he vomited. He staggered into the small room, hands braced on the wall and heaved until there was nothing left, then heaved some more. It set his already splitting head pounding anew, and drained the strength from his limbs. Trembling, too weak to move, Jim sank to the floor and let his head resting against cool porcelain. It felt good, the cold ceramic cooling his fevered cheek, the silent room soothing his abused ears.

"Jimmy," Sally’s voice found him some time later, later when his legs had gone numb from kneeling in one position for so long. He lifted his head, looking up into her concerned face. Sally wiped his face and held a glass for him to ease his parched throat. When he was ready, she helped him to his feet and stood supporting some of his weight, her small body strong enough to hold him until the cramps faded to the tingle of returning circulation. With her help Jim hobbled back to his bedroom, neither saying a word but their gazes would meet in silent communication. Sally had come to live with them the summer after their mother left, bringing them strange exotic foods, and lessons in a language they had never heard before. Her affection for both boys made them miss their mother far less than Jim would ever have thought possible. And as time passed and she began to understand the way things went in the Ellison household, Sally had become the one person Jim knew he could count on. She told him he was special, his destiny a shining point glowing in his future. She alone showered him with love and affection, feeding the need which consumed days made lonely by jealous classmates and a cold father.

Sally helped him undress, something only a day ago would have mortified the fifteen year old boy, but now Jim longed for some kind of contact. Her hands were tender, her perfume a subtle scent which made him think of the forest flowers behind their house. She touched him with love, and as if sensing his need, ran gentle fingers over his forehead. Jim closed his eyes, concentrating on her hands, hands which soothed, hands which would never hit him. And yet, some traitorous part of his mind craved even his father’s hurtful contact. At least then, his father couldn’t ignore him, pretend he had only one son, a normal son. If only their mother hadn’t gone away, she had caressed him with the same gentle hands, crooning songs into his ear as Jim hugged her tightly. It had been special between him and his mother, she seemed to know he wasn’t like others. Even after Stephen had been born, Grace Ellison had doted on her eldest son, sharing special evenings while William was away, just holding and petting him. A fresh wave of tears rose in Jim’s eyes, making him turn away from Sally’s comfort, bent double with grief and pain.

"Oh, Jimmy," came Sally’s heartbroken whisper. Jim shook his head, unable to speak and let her get him into bed. It was only a bit after noon, and he could hear his friends two houses away making plans to head for the park. Sally pulled a blanket up over him, careful not to touch the red welts visible over top of his undershorts and down the backs of his legs. She told him to stay in bed, and she would bring him something cool to drink, then reminded him hesitantly that William would be up later to check on him. His father never seemed concerned at the time he meted out some harsh punishments but Jim’s reaction - headaches, nausea, weakness, scared his father enough to have him order Sally to sit with him until it passed.

Jim heard the click of the door closing behind Sally and followed her progress down to the kitchen. She would go about the rest of the day, pausing in her dinner preparations to check on him a few more times, but that would be the only disruption to the weekend.

William demanded his house follow a set schedule and nothing, not even having to reprimand his troublesome son, would throw it off.

Closing his eyes, Jim let his hearing stretch out, following his friends as they went to the park, veering off when a bird caught his attention.

He had no idea how he did it, it was just something which he had always been able to do, but lying in his room, tracking some wild animal with only his hearing seemed like heaven to the boy. He could go anywhere and be anything. A thousand sounds were there waiting and if he pulled himself up to the window usually he could find the fleeing shape among the trees. Hours would pass as he gazed out, freeing his heart to wander and though he paid for it when some chore he’d been assigned failed to be completed, it was worth it for the freedom he experienced.

Drifting along, Jim heard the bird’s wings flapping against the gentle breeze, he could almost feel air brushing his cheek, the last traces of pain falling away as rapidly as the ground. He gave himself over to this sensation, cradled securely within its wings and he was flying. Not just imagining flight, but dipping and diving over the houses he’d grown up seeing every day, gliding on air currents, savoring the wind like a rare treat. Jim felt his hear racing, blood pounded through his veins and gave him strength. He imagined himself not just a bluejay, but an eagle, soaring miles and miles away from his home. He saw mountains poking up like fat fingers, and rivers nothing more than bright ribbons tied around acres of trees, and from so far above it was the most beautiful place he could imagine.

A cry pierced his awareness, ripping him from the scene playing out inside his head. For a single crystal moment he hung in air, high above the land and then no longer a bird nothing but a boy again, he plummeted. In the back of his mind Jim knew it was illusion, he was lying on his bed in his room, but he also knew what everyone every born knew - to die in a dream fall would kill him in life. He struggled violently, arms windmilling, legs kicking, but air screamed passed his ears in imitation of his own screams for help. And then, with the verdant landscape rushing up it all came to a stop. Not a gradual slowing, one moment he plunged toward the earth, the next he stood braced upon it. Jim found himself standing on a rocky cliff, the sky stretched out above him like silk, the ground still a long way down but no longer racing towards him. Air buffed him, threatening to tumble him from the precarious safety as Jim stepped nearer the edge and looked over. "What the hell?" he wondered.

"You shouldn’t say that word." The voice made Jim whirl, expecting in the way dreams worked to see Stephen outlined in the door to his bedroom but the figure standing behind Jim was not that of his brother. It was a boy, younger than Stephen by a few years but where Stephen had short blond hair, this child’s locks were a wild mass of browns and reds. His gaze seemed to take in everything, Jim knew this kid’s eyes were old with wisdom and it frightened him.

But then the boy smiled and held out a hand. "Come on," he coaxed, "I can lead you down."

Jim hesitated. The kid looked like a waif lost in the wilds but some instinct took hold and Jim took the small hand which slipped easily into his. In that instant he felt the world open up, everything seemed to glow with golden light. "Wow," Jim whistled, "neat trick."

"It’s not a trick," the boy explained. He led Jim down to another outcropping, this one wide and flat. Keeping towards the side of the mountain the boy released Jim’s hand and stared at him. He seemed to be waiting for something.

"Not a trick?" Jim stepped to the edge and peered over, a haze drifted in, obscuring much of the land below, but Jim thought he saw a dark shape disappearing through a stand of heavy trees. "Then what is it?"

"I think it’s the future." Jim cast a quick glance at the boy to see if he was kidding, but his blue eyes were strangely serious. "I’ve been here before," the kid went on, "but I was alone. I didn’t think it was right, you know? I kept waiting and then," he shrugged and a grin split his face.

Jim couldn’t resist an answering smile. The kid tugged him down to a rock then plunked beside him. Jim didn’t give it a thought, just curled his arm over the younger boy’s shoulders. "So this is the future, huh? Kind of boring. I was hoping to be a soldier or an explorer, something fun." He cast a speculative look at his new friend. "Bet you want to be a drummer."

The boy laughed, a sound that had Jim joining before he realized it. "No. I want to be a scientist," he proclaimed proudly. "I’m going to get a microscope for my birthday."

For a few minutes they sat silently, Jim absently stroking the kid’s arm. "Do you know what’s wrong with me?" Jim asked quietly.

He had no idea why he’d asked, why he would even think this child would understand what he was talking about, but the words slipped out naturally as if it had been planned.

"You’re special." Said firmly, and accompanied by a solemn nod, Jim could almost believe the boy. "Each and every step you’ve taken so far is a lesson. You know what it’s like to be helpless and hurting and all alone." Jim trembled, hearing a stranger confirm the nightmare he’d been living made it worse. But the boy went on, voice low and soothing. "This is to prepare you - it will always be inside you even when you forget." He laid his head against Jim’s shoulder, his long hair brushing Jim’s cheek like a caress. "There’s so much pain," the young voice sounded muffled and Jim bent closer, "so much pain to come but if you follow your heart it will be okay."

Jim didn’t know what to say. He waited, and when the boy finally raised his head and met his eyes, Jim was surprised to see tears falling down the round cheeks. "Ssssh," he comforted.

Gathering the smaller boy close, he rocked them both. "It’ll be okay," he assured the kid. "I think I understand." He gently pushed the other boy away, using a finger to lift his chin. "I promise it will be okay."

"I know it will," the boy whispered and a tiny smile flitted across his lips. "You’re going to protect us - all of us," he declared and Jim felt the rightness of that statement. Yes, he would protect everyone who was helpless and hurting, everyone who had been like him.

"And what about you?" Jim asked. He reached out, tracing a line down the boy’s nose and making him giggle. "What will you be doing while I’m protecting everybody?"

A brilliant smile blossomed on the boy’s face, his eyes glowed with an inner flame. "I’ll protect you." Jim blinked in surprise, it wasn’t the answer he’d expected. He might have laughed, amused by the little boy who vowed to protect him, but a determined fire burned in those blue eyes and Jim just nodded. They stared at each other for a long time, Jim knowing he had to memorize these features, knowing somehow that he would find this boy again.

The kid, stared back, equally resolved. And then a sound snared Jim’s attention and he turned to see a bird wheeling high overhead. He followed its flight for a moment, startled to feel his concentration wavering. Quickly he turned back to the kid, glad to find him still huddled close. "I guess that means I have to go," Jim guessed. His dreams had never been so long or vivid before and he hated for this one to end. He liked this boy. Jim frowned, he didn’t even know the kid’s name. "Hey, who are you?"

The boy smiled again, his face shining with affection. "You’ll know me," he promised. The bird called again, it’s cry sharp and insistent. Jim looked back at the sky, wings fluttered above him, caught him and darkness descended.

"Jimmy?" William Ellison’s voice drown out the screech and Jim rolled over to find his father leaning over him. "You okay, son?"

In that instant, Jim knew he was okay. His future had been laid out below him, a young boy waited to guide him to his destiny and all he had to do was find him again. Jim gave a short, quick nod.

"I’m okay." William regarded him a moment longer and then left him alone. Jim turned to look out the window. Darkness had fallen, stars twinkling like fires burning on a thousand mountains. He could feel the kid out there somewhere, waiting for him. "I’m okay," he whispered again. He knew the next time Stephen turned those pleading eyes on him, begging Jim to take his punishment - he would do it again. It wouldn’t matter how much it hurt, Jim realized why he did it. He had to. The kid had said there would be pain, the past had been full of it why would the future be any different? Jim lay back on his bed, and allowed himself to dream. From now on, life in the Ellison household would be different, he wouldn’t let his father’s anger and pain rip them apart. And if he couldn’t hold it together, if he wasn’t strong enough, Jim vowed to strike out on his own. He would find that mountaintop and the boy with sparkling eyes who waited to guide him. Inside he knew he’d walk through hell for that and something told him that was exactly what he would have to do.

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