Note: a gen story dealing with Luzar's death, but with references to one fannish tradition of Magic/Jan yaoi. That idea, oddly enough, came from the artist herself, who drew the first (quite stunning) doujinshi to deal with the theme. Wish there were more manga artsists like Shibata.

A Death in the Family

Magic put down the headset and left the room, not noticing the radio operator's salute. It was true, then, the message in the cable: '... taken w many casualties. Enemy appears possess new pyrotechnology. Regret inform, yr hnrd brother among the fallen...' The field commander had been, marginally, a bit more informative. "He charged the enemy most gallantly, Commander, just at the critical point. He put heart into our men with the courage of his example. It's owing to his sacrifice that we were finally able to win this battle."

He doubted it. Gallantry wasn't part of his brother's nature. What the commander was saying was, Luzar had set out to get himself killed, and he'd succeeded.

Well-- good.

It was over, then. The greatest threat his family had ever faced had been defeated without half of them knowing it even existed. He'd been of two minds about telling Harlem the truth, and now he was glad he hadn't. Let him go on thinking Luzar had killed Jan out of jealousy and malice. He'd believe it in any case: it was what he wanted to believe. He spoke over his shoulder to his aide.

"Get my brother."

"Servis-sama, sir?"

"The lieutenant."

I could have stopped him. The thought came suddenly, the same old thought followed by the same answer. No I couldn't. He wasn't rational. He'd have told Servis eventually-- It was a choice between Luzar and my brother, and that was no choice at all. Servis loves me. Luzar--

Luzar had never loved anyone. Behind the smile, the easy compliance of a second son, there was only coldness and a rocklike indifference to other people. Because he himself was a warm-hearted man who loved his family, Magic had fought for years not to recognize the truth. He'd needed to believe he could depend on his brother. Who else did he have to stand at his back? But the time came when he couldn't lie to himself any longer. Luckily the twins were growing up by then- Harlem and Servis, so high-spirited and loving, so different from their cool unfeeling older brother... No doubt Luzar's detachment made him a good scientist, and useful as such. It was true that a great part of Magic's success had been due to the technical innovations he'd supplied. But that self-sufficiency of his- it was repellent- unnatural. When the twins were still young, he'd often affectionately thought of his little brothers as baby animals: Harlem was a lion cub, Servis a puppy. But Luzar had always struck him as something cold-blooded and alien, like a lizard or reptile.

He shook himself out of his memories. There'd have to be a funeral. Tricky, with no body. That whole area of the battlefield had taken a pounding from the incendiaries. Luzar would be lying among the charred debris, broken to pieces and burnt like tissue paper. The idea made him angry. It wasn't right. His family, even Luzar, was different- they deserved better than that. And how was he to tell Servis? He'd been beside himself when Luzar went away... thinking all those tears, all that grief, had been for him alone. No use blinking the facts, they'd spoiled their youngest brother; and look what he'd done...

He remembered smooth warm flesh and smiling black eyes and felt again- still- that tight constriction in his chest--

"Reconnaissance reports no enemy movement, sir, but they sighted a man walking towards the battlefield. They say-" the soldier hesitated a moment- "it's your brother."

"Servis?" he asked in joy. He was alive then-

"No sir. Apparently it's Luzar-sama."

"**Luzar**?!" An evil foreboding settled round him like certainty. "I'm going on ahead. Follow as quickly as you can."

He'd never doubted it was Luzar. The premonition of disaster was too strong. He hastened after him, but Luzar was too far ahead. From thirty yards away he saw it happen: the black head and the yellow close together, the flash of blue light, and the black head falling, remorselessly limp, to the ground.

Luzar didn't see him coming, being intent on the unconscious Servis.

"Nii-san!" he said in surprise, and then, "It's alright. I've taken care of him." He jerked his head back at the rock. "He was one of the enemy." He looked so pleased with himself- he must have known, **must** have- That wide smile was shot through with hidden satisfaction--

"Put him down." He nodded at Servis, barely able to keep his voice level. "And leave."

"But **why**?" There was outrage in the pale blue eyes.

"How will he feel when he wakes up and finds that you killed his lover? Do you think he'll ever want to look at you again?" Instinctively he used the one weak point he knew Luzar possessed. He had no eyes when it came to Servis. "You'll split our family right down the middle."

"When he learns what Jan really was-"

Magic raised both eyebrows. "You were going to **tell** him? Tell him he was duped and used by the first man he ever loved? Really, Luzar?"

"He'll blame himself instead-"

"An accident. Tragic, but unavoidable. That's all. Not betrayal. Not double betrayal- by his brother and his friend." He nodded at the ground. "Put him down." Luzar obeyed. "And go."

"Nii-san." Luzar gave him one of his expressionless stares. Magic stared back from a granite face. If his brother so much as hinted that he wanted thanks for this day's work-- but all Luzar said was "Coming?"

"In a minute."

"He'll come round soon."

"In a minute," he said flatly, and at last Luzar turned his back on him and walked away.

Magic went over to the other body and stood looking down into the empty black eyes. He reached out a hand to close them, but stopped. No- let Servis see what he was seeing. Let him suffer a little too. They'd been much too easy on him. His hand stroked the black hair instead, and came away covered in blood.

Weariness suddenly made his shoulders sag. He shouldn't blame Servis for being taken in by a charm that he hadn't been able to resist himself. Jan had been sent to destroy their family: to destroy **him**. He would have got to them eventually, one way or another. He shouldn't blame his brother for having met him first, for having brought him into their lives. But he did.

What followed was disaster. It was painful- humiliating- to be locked with Servis in that wordless competition for the same man. Servis wouldn't give up, relinquish him as he should have- it would have been so much easier-- And all the time he had to keep Luzar and Harlem from knowing what was happening and discovering his weakness. And then he'd begun to sense the truth, and fought not to know it-- telling himself he had no proof, only an instinct, which was proof enough, bound to the stone as he was. His very blood and bones recognized the ancient enemy of their line. He'd known what he should do, but he couldn't do it. The situation was impossible. Somehow it had to be stopped; and somehow it had been.

So now it was finally over. And amazingly it seemed to have happened without his being compromised in any way. He could still look Servis straight in the eye, he could still be sure of his loyalty... 'It's ended better than I deserved', he thought, even as his heart twisted in grief. Luzar had delivered him from the enemy that would have destroyed them all. He shouldn't blame him for that. But he did.

"I had no choice," he said to the slack-mouthed figure propped up against the rocky outcropping. Dull eyes stared back at him from between a web of trickling red lines. "Good-bye, Jan."

Well, so there it was. He'd thought it was over then, and he'd been wrong. It was over now. Final toll: Luzar's life, Servis's eye, his heart. Enough. And the one who hadn't suffered at all was standing in front of him now.

"Aniki?"

"Harlem." No need to soften the telling. "Luzar's dead. Killed in battle."

There was no reaction for what seemed forever. Then slowly a smile spread across Harlem's face, like the sun rising.

"Dead," he said. He'd never heard such satisfaction in his brother's voice. And if it were himself? Would Harlem be equally happy?

Probably.

"You're pleased," he noted dispassionately.

"You're surprised?"

"I never knew what you had against him."

"You know what he did. He was a monster. He liked hurting things-"

"Things?"

"Our bird- Servis's and mine-"

"Harlem, not again."

"I loved it," Harlem said fiercely. "That's why he killed it. He hated me- he couldn't kill me, so he killed my bird instead. One minute it was singing, and the next it was just- a pile of bloody feathers-" There were tears in his voice.

"Well, you're revenged," he said, to cut him off. "Luzar's dead-- burnt to ashes in a fire storm."

Harlem's eyes glowed.

"So who's going to tell Servis? Can you do it without grinning all over your face?"

"He won't want to hear it from **you**," Harlem said automatically, but he was frowning a little. "It's a problem. OK, I know. I'll tell Takamatsu. He can break it to him."

"Takamatsu." Magic considered. "He's not likely to fall apart himself?"

Harlem snorted. "Christ- don't tell me you **believe** all that ass-licking crap of his? Even Luzar wasn't that dumb."

"Harlem-" He looked at him out of both his eyes, and Harlem backed down a little.

"Hell, aniki, this means a promotion for him. He'll be delighted, whatever he says."

Magic shrugged. "Very well. There'll be a ceremony of some kind. I'll let you know when it's been decided. On more immediate business-" he handed Harlem a copy of the cable. "The enemy seems to have some new kind of incendiary weapon. We've got a couple of survivors from the other side- wounded and not likely to live. They're a stubborn lot, over there in the western sector. I want to find out what they know before they die. You're to set out as soon as possible."

"I can be out of here in an hour. Don't worry, nii-san. I'll make them talk."

The words touched a small nerve. "I'm sure of it. But speak to Takamatsu before you go. Dismissed, Harlem."

Harlem gave him a grin instead of a salute and walked- no, strutted- out of the office. Happy, Magic thought. Well, Harlem's useful as he is. Cure his delusions, I might lose his talents...

"Hi," he said as he came into the house.

"Um," Luzar looked up from his book.

"Any trouble getting the twins down?" he asked, taking off his scarf.

"*Trouble*-" Luzar said, getting up. "You'd better look at this."

He walked over to the living room table. Magic followed, shrugging off his coat as he went.

"I'd just got Servis to sleep- you know how long he takes- and came in for Harlem. He was playing with that bird of his."

"**This**?" He looked at the pile of bloody feathers. "Harlem killed Pepe?"

"No, I did. Look closer. The feet."

The feet- lacked claws. He examined them closely.

"Cut?--"

"With nail scissors. Playing prisoner. 'I'm gonna make him talk.'"

"Christ. Starting young, isn't he? He's only six." He felt a little sick to his stomach. That poor bird...

"The talent's definitely there, nii-san. It may be useful to you some day."

He gave Luzar a sharp glance. Luzar smiled back. Magic frowned- but he couldn't prove Luzar was laughing at him.

"What'd you do?"

"I wrung the bird's neck, what else? And I told him to go to bed and not wake his brother. He's pretty pissed at me."

"I'll talk to him tomorrow."

"And tell him what, nii-san? Torture is wrong?"

That bland smile irked him. "Torturing animals is unforgivable, for whatever reasons, and I won't have it," he said with energy. "You'd better get that straight too. If I find you've been using animals in your experiments-"

"Don't worry. I work with botanical specimens. Or do you mean you don't mind me using **human** subjects?"

He **was** laughing at him. "It's late, Luzar. Shouldn't you be getting to bed yourself?"

"Good idea. Oyasumi, nii-san." Luzar gave him a nod and left. Magic stood looking down at the small body, wondering what on earth he could say to a six-year-old to make him understand what he'd done.

So it was as much a relief as a cause of concern when Harlem, next day, denied it all absolutely. "I didn't do anything, Luzar just killed Pepe cause he hates me, I only wanted to play with him and he killed him and I hate Luzar- I **hate** him- I hate him and I'm gonna **kill** him-" He'd worked himself into hysterics in no time.

Half of him rather wanted to believe Harlem's story, which surprised him. But he knew that if Luzar had killed the bird out of impatience or malice or whatever, he'd have said so without a qualm. Luzar had no sense of right and wrong- all through their childhood he'd cheerfully admitted to any number of infractions, and always seemed vaguely surprised when he was punished for it. And Harlem wouldn't say what had happened to the bird's feet- No, he hadn't touched them. No, Luzar hadn't done it either. Nothing had happened to the bird. It had been fine until Luzar had killed it. And Luzar had killed it because he hated him- and the whole thing started again.

He didn't push it. Servis was upset enough by Pepe's disappearance. There was no point in making it worse. And- well- all boys had moments of casual cruelty- they grew out of it. He reasoned that if Harlem felt so guilty about what he'd done that he had to deny it completely, even to himself, there was really nothing to worry about. He hadn't known his guilt would inspire an obsession lasting into adultood.

Luzar was right about that talent of his, though. Right too about its usefulness. Regrettable, but that's the way it was. He picked up the reports on the western sector, turning his mind to that rebellious country. After a moment he reached for the intercom and instructed his aide to set up a conference call with the chief of staff and the commander of the last attack before this one, who was currently recovering from his wounds in the Army hospital. After half an hour's grilling of those two, Magic had a much clearer idea of the possible repercussions of this last Pyrrhic victory of theirs. Clearly a change of strategy was indicated... When Harlem finds out about this new technology, we'll be able to turn it against them... It sounds like a formidable weapon, used properly... I'll have to consult- consult-

He swivelled his chair away from the desk and looked out the tall window at the iron grey sky. So, I **will** miss Luzar for some things-- there wasn't anyone else with his breadth of knowledge- I wonder which of his subordinates is the chemistry specialist?- Behind the clouds there were occasional flashes, like shells bursting. A storm, several miles away. Probably storming in the western sector too. Well, Luzar won't mind it anymore...

Lightning flashed, making the room bright as day, and he felt, half-awake, Luzar slipping into bed beside him. His brother didn't speak to him, desperately trying to keep a little dignity though his body was rigid with panic. When they were younger, he'd held Luzar through the violent summer storms, feeling him flinch at each crash of thunder. He didn't understand Luzar's fear then; he loved thunderstorms himself. "It's like a battlefield," he'd told him, and Luzar had shuddered and said "Yes." Eventually he'd worked it out that Luzar didn't understand what had happened that time the house was shelled, when he'd been seven. He'd tried to explain to him that thunder couldn't hurt people like bombs could, but it made no difference. Now it was beginning to annoy him. Luzar was fourteen- it was time he got over this- it was embarrassing...

The door opened again and the twins came in. "It's *loud*," Harlem said in outrage and "I can't sleep," Servis said right after, and they burrowed into his bed.

"Don't tell me you two are afraid of a little thunder? How will you ever be soldiers if you're scared of a thunderstorm?"

"We're not scared," they chorussed indignantly. "Just, it's **loud**," Harlem explained, and right on cue a thunderbolt shook the house. He heard Luzar catch his breath.

"That's good. One coward in the family is enough," he said, looking over at him. Maybe he could shame him into a little courage. Luzar didn't look back- didn't say anything- it was useless, Magic thought in disgust, and spent the next half hour making the twins laugh with his stories until the storm was finished and they all went back to their own beds. Clearly, however, Luzar had taken the lesson to heart, because that was the last time he'd come to Magic's bedroom. Even though there'd never been any question of his being a soldier, he'd at least grown a little backbone-- Maybe that early experience had made it easier for him when, fifteen years later, he'd finally taken himself off to war.

'I did my best to turn him into a man,' he thought, and realized suddenly that if he hadn't, Luzar would still be alive--

No, he told himself quickly, even as his stomach contracted, he'd have killed himself some other way- some accident in the lab- he wasn't rational--

The intercom beeped, and his aide's voice said, "Takamatsu is here, sir, to report on your brother."

"Send him in." The sudden reminder unleashed the old worry for Servis, overriding even the reflex irritation he always felt at the sight of Luzar's protege. He very much doubted that Takamatsu was the genius Luzar believed him to be, but the young man himself always behaved as though there was absolutely no question about the matter.

"How is Servis?" he asked almost before Takamatsu had straightened from his bow.

"I've given him a sedative," he said. "He's taking it very badly. I don't think, Commander, that you should leave him alone for the next few days." His voice sounded a little hoarse, and Magic could see that his eyes were red. Well, obviously there was some grief there, if not much.

"I'll post a guard in his room..." His voice trailed off at the expression on Takamatsu's face. "Why not?"

"He's suffering from paranoia, Commander. He holds you responsible for Luzar-sama's death." Magic's eyes narrowed even as his mind registered shock. The young man had a genius for wrapping a scorpion sting in the most respectful words...

"Nonsense. He knows I had nothing to do with my brother's death. It was Luzar's own wish to go off to battle..."

"Paranoia, Commander," Takamatsu said gently. "Nothing to do with facts. And if you station a guard in his room, he may believe his own turn is next."

"Ridiculous!" Magic snapped, but he chewed his lip in perplexity. "I can't stay myself- the campaign is in crisis- and Harlem's off on a mission-"

"Some old servant, perhaps?"

"There aren't any he knows-- What friends does he have?"

"Now, Commander? None living. Aside from myself."

"Well, then, you take charge of him. See he's alright. And reason with him, Takamatsu. He can't go on believing I killed Luzar--"

"Didn't you?"

The question brought him up short, and he stared into the glistening black eyes. Takamatsu was smiling at him, a familiar bland smile- Luzar-

He leaned forward on the desk. "Let's understand each other, Takamatsu. I had nothing to do with Luzar's death. He insisted on going to the front and from what the field commander said, the first thing he did was rush the enemy in a very efficient attempt at getting himself killed. It was suicide, pure and simple. I've no idea why he wanted to die, but evidently he did. Maybe I should have realized it before, but it never even occurred to me. He was so determined to leave-" Too late the possibility crossed his mind that Luzar might have told Takamatsu the whole story-- God, he wouldn't have. Not an outsider like that...

"In spite of your best urgings, naturally, sir..." The sarcasm went past him as his alarm subsided. No, Takamatsu knew nothing.

"**Yes**," he said forcefully. "You think I would simply abandon my brother? If I had known-"

"Commander, you abandoned him years ago, long before I met him. When I was still in short pants, probably. I don't know why, and neither did he. He was brilliant- a genius- but for some reason that wasn't good enough for you. And the twins were younger- more malleable- maybe not so much of a threat?"

He glared at the young man babbling in front of him, but Takamatsu went right on.

"But what will you do now, Commander? Servis's crippled- Harlem's a monster- both emotionally unstable- they didn't turn out very well either, did they? Better throw them away too. How lucky you have a son coming- yes, sir, I saw the amniocentesis results- he'll be much better for your purposes. You can start before his birth - pre-natal influences-"

"Takamatsu," he said very very quietly. "Stop."

Takamatsu gave him a wide brilliant smile. How could he ever have thought him sane?- those eyes-

"And the funniest part of it all," he went on, as if continuing a completely different conversation, "is that he still thought he could depend on you. He was a scientist and he dealt in facts but he still believed that you'd be there for him if he really needed you. You always came first with him. Always. Always. **Always**." Tears were running down his cheeks, and he smiled through them, black eyes alive with hate...

Magic's anger evaporated. It was an epitaph, of sorts. Not true, but Takamatsu thought it was. He wouldn't grudge Luzar his mourner. A loyalty like that might be worth having. Hatred, after all, could sometimes be better than love for binding men's hearts. Do this right, and Luzar's assistant could be his too, now.

He leaned his chin on his fist. "Well," he said, "what are you going to do about it?" Let him go on a bit- threaten or whatever until he'd got some of that jealousy out of his system- then they could negotiate...

He'd underestimated the young man. A curtain came down across Takamatsu's face.

"What **can** I do, Commander? We both know my position here."

"Will you stay on?"

"If you let me." His voice was flat, asking nothing, conceding nothing.

"Yes. You'll be promoted of course, now. I believe Luzar was grooming you for a high position. It'll be yours."

"Thank you, sir."

How far were the hooks in? "I want an apology for that last outburst of yours."

"I apologize, Commander." Magic waited. "I spoke out of turn. I beg your pardon. It won't happen again." It came out too smoothly. Clearly Takamatsu couldn't be punished with words: they were his own weapon. Well, some other day he'd try some other means, but for today, it would do. This interview had already gone on long enough.

"Very well. I accept your apology. You'll look after Servis until you judge he's sufficiently calmed. I assume the laboratory can function without you for a few days?"

"Yes sir."

"Who's the expert in chemical weaponry over there?"

"Mr. Halschmidt, sir."

"Harlem will be back shortly with information on a new type of incendiary. I want Halschmidt to be at the debriefing. I need to consult him about adaptations."

"Yes sir."

"Dismissed." Takamatsu merely looked at him, a reminder that he was a civilian. Magic didn't insist. See what would come in future from a minor concession now... "You can go." The young man bowed and left. An interesting type, Luzar's assistant. "He amuses me," Luzar had said once, in response to some question of Servis's. Yes indeed; the intelligent ones were often the best sport in the long run. Maybe not the ideal nurse for Servis, but who else was there?

So Servis blames me... True, I could have stopped him- no I couldn't- he wasn't rational- Servis will come around. It's just the shock- two deaths so close together... and all his fault, if he only knew it. He pushed aside the impatience that always accompanied the thought of Servis these days. Some kind of ceremony... could we just make it part of the general memorial for the dead? so the men will think of us as simply another part of the army? or will they expect something more? I'll see what Luzar thinks--

His mind stuttered, and he felt a wash of baffled anger. 'I didn't consult Luzar *that* much,' he thought in irritation. 'His ideas were never much help. But he was always **there**, around the house, around headquarters- I could talk to him and not have to worry. It didn't matter that he never loved me- never cared for me- he was my brother, he was one of us--'

--and now we've got to have a funeral for him. The first one since Papa's. That's no help- Papa was the general, his funeral had to be something special. God, what a day that was... Never again, if I have anything to say about it...

It was finally all over, and they had come back to the empty house after the day of parades and ceremony and too many faces and too many uniforms- too tired to speak, too tired to think.

"You guys want dinner?" he asked the twins, and they shook their heads, on the far edges of exhaustion.

"Better get off to bed, then. You can have some milk and cookies after your bath." He was so weary he felt he couldn't move from his chair.

"I'll give them their baths," Luzar said. "You look pretty wiped yourself. Come on, kids."

"I don't want a bath," Harlem scowled.

"Sure you do," Luzar said. "Get some of the sweat off you. C'mon, Harlem."

"I hate baths. I'm not gonna have a bath ever again. And neither is Servis."

"Yes I am," Servis said at once. "I like baths."

"NO. I said we're not gonna have baths ever- we're not gonna do what they say- we're NOT gonna do what YOU guys say-" Harlem was shouting at them all of a sudden, fists clenched and face white.

"Harlem-" Luzar said helplessly, "What's all this about?" and Magic said warningly, "Harlem-" but Harlem was beyond listening. "We're not gonna do what you guys say an' you can't make us, we're gonna go away all by ourselves- I hate you both, I don't wanna live here anymore, we're going away, we're gonna go find Papa-" His voice had worked its way into a shrill scream. Without warning he launched himself at the living room table, throwing ashtrays and magazines and a cut glass candy holder at the wall, where it smashed. Harlem was yelling "I hate you, I hate you!" and Servis began to cry, piercingly, from fear and tiredness. Magic pulled himself out of the numbing fatigue that held him and grabbed his younger brother. Harlem was big and strong for a five year old, and his hysteria made him wild. It was all Magic could do to keep a hold on him while avoiding the wildly kicking legs and punching arms, but he got an arm around his brother's waist and slapped his rump, very very hard, half a dozen times. The fight went out of him and he fell wailing against Magic's legs. Magic picked him up in his arms and collapsed onto the couch, hugging him tight. That sudden explosion of Harlem's had, oddly, given him new energy; it was like a thunderstorm that clears the air. Luzar was holding the crying Servis, trying to comfort him. As if by reflex he came over and sat down next to Magic.

"It's ok," Magic said to Harlem, patting the small back that shook with tears and reaction. "I know you guys don't know what's going on. And I can't explain; it's big people's business. But nothing's going to change here. You'll go on the way you did before until you're older and can go to the army school."

"But what about Papa?" Servis wept.

"Papa's gone. It happens to people. Sometimes they go away and they don't come back. He's with Mama now. But you don't have to worry. I'm staying right here until you guys are grown."

Over Servis's head, Luzar raised an eyebrow at him.

"Oh yes," he said, to the one who could understand. "General Bergstrom will command the army for a while. They all think I'm too young." Their eyes met, and both smiled faintly. "And the way the war's going- it can't be turned around overnight. Let the top brass screw it up a bit longer until I've got my support together."

"What's your sport?" Servis asked, his tears beginning to slacken, picking up the one word he half understood.

"Sup-port. That's the people who are for me, who want to help me."

"Like helping you cook dinner?"

"A little different- but yeah, pretty much the same."

"Ok, then- we'll be your sp-support. Right, Harlem?"

Harlem nodded, his snotty face still buried in Magic's chest, his arms clinging tight to his back. Magic stroked his hair, feeling a sudden amazing happiness.

"Yes," he said, "you'll be my support. If I've got you guys on my side, it's worth a dozen battalions." Luzar laughed, his soft breathy laugh. "You know it, nii-san," he said.

And at that moment, he did. He could see so clearly how it would be, the four of them united, inseparable allies, pooling their talents to make the family's position invulnerable-- the start of a dynasty, this would be... He looked at the rain drops streaming against the curved glass of his office window and wondered what had happened to make it go so wrong.

Well, he knew. You could only work with the tools you had, and his were flawed. The high hopes he'd had for his brothers had been betrayed by his brothers' own natures. Each in his turn had proved unequal to Magic's expectations. When he buried Luzar, he'd be burying with him his last regrets for a dream that had failed: maybe, a dream that could never have succeeded. In a way, he was glad to have it finished. He disliked failure.

And he was lucky. There were other ways, better ways, to make his dream come true. That clever young man had been right about one thing, at least. There was still his son- his son and his son's future brothers. And this time there would be no disappointment. The past was finally over; now the future could begin.

MJJ July 95