I was feeling pretty stupid.

It was normal for me to feel so at three in the morning when I was trying to do something which required precision. Slogging around the kitchen, mixing a miniscule amount of formula while being egged on by the angry snarls of a newborn, I was particularly limp-headed. In fact, I was convinced there was something missing from the room, but I was damned if I could figure out what it was.

I heard motors and tired crunching on deep snow. Headlights swung across the windows as several vehicles pulled around to the rear of the house instead of stopping in the front. There were steps on the wooden deck, voices, a blast of frigid air as the door opened, and Elmore's voice for the first time in three days.

"Hey, Ma, why's the stove in the yard?"

"I'm sure I don't know, Elmore," I said slowly. I turned to the place where I expected to see the stove. I saw no stove, only an ugly gap in the cabinets. I hated being so slow on the uptake, but there was nothing for it. I turned to Ranier. I would figure out the stove in turn.

"Give 'im over, Ma," Elmore grinned. "I'll give 'im the jug. I like babies." He reached out big hands and took my warm little bundle, tucking him into the crook of one brawny arm. He started talking trash and nonsense in a soft voice to the infant as he lowered himself into a kitchen chair.

Jade, yawning, was herding Mick and Nuala through the door, followed by Sam and Ryan.

"I think the cooker's about knackered, lass," Ryan announced.

"We shoved it up on the deck," Sam added. "What in hell is it doin' out there?"

I shrugged, then stared at the gap it belonged in. I felt like an absolute idiot.

"Where's William?" Ryan asked.

"Upstairs," I answered. "He had a hell of a time getting comfortable. He hurt his back some..." The light went on, dimly at first. "Aw, fuck no! He didn't!"

"Looks like he did," Sam said, placid voice not really fitting with the wolfish grin.

It all fell into place, and as it did I began a tired giggle.

I'd been busy earlier that week with a periodic and ferocious baking binge. At the time, in fact, my project had been a lemon meringue pie. I'd never made one before and I was being very careful with it. Why was anybody's guess, considering that the men of the house would roar through it, but I wanted to do the thing right. I heard a ruckus out near the barns and, thinking it was one of the twins harassing the animals I stepped out onto the deck to call the child away. It turned out that Bill had been passing the llama enclosure and Rama'd had his usual cheery reaction. Bill had yelled at me to get on inside and I had.

Just in time to see Mick finish locking the oven door.

"Oh, no," I groaned.

I had learned more than I'd ever wanted to know about appliances when I worked at Best Buy, including stoves. Self-cleaning ovens were the rage, and sometimes people bought them figuring they knew what they needed to know. For the most part, they did. Occasionally a minor detail would catch them off guard.

Since the cleaning cycle of the range involved temperatures roughly twice that required for normal cooking, each range came equipped with a heavy locking lever for the oven door. The lock was only meant to be engaged when the oven was being run through a cleaning cycle, because each range had a preset temperature for the lock, and if the oven was locked and it hit the preset, the oven would assume it was cleaning itself and would not open until it had cooled down. Once in a while we'd have people in a state because they'd locked their dinners in the oven. It was funny, really.

"You locked it up, Mick?" I asked. I reached off to turn off the current.

The boy favored me with a big grin and a fast nod. There was nothing more to say. I waited for the oven to cool, while the meringue charred and crumbled and the lemon filling boiled over and splattered the inside of the cabinet. Then I chucked the thing out, pieplate and all, along with a caution to Mick not to mess with the lever ever again, and more or less forgot about it.

Bill had wandered downstairs the evening before, when the weather idiots were finally admitting that the storm was winding down. He'd been intent on a frozen pizza. I'd dozed a bit and only awakened when Bill reappeared carrying a thick sandwich on a plate.

"Where's your pizza?"

"Decided I didn't want it. Want a bite?" he'd asked, proffering his sandwich.

"You've got that damn oil on it. Eurgh, no," I'd said, and put it all out of my mind.

"What's funny, lass?" Ryan asked, bringing me back.

"The oven had a big spill in it... I'll bet it caught fire... Mom's oven did it to me, once..."

"He didn't have brains enough to shut 'er down?" Sam mused.

"He hasn't slept hardly at all," I began.

"I told you t'keep your ass down an'..." Bill steamed into the room, where the first thing he saw was Sam's smirking face. "... and what in hell are you lookin' at?"

"Some damn fool who couldn't birth a baby without someone there to hold his hand."

Bill's usual response was clipped bitter. "Fuck you, boy."

Ryan's eyebrow shot upward at the tone, but Sam stood firm. He'd had a long few days with very little sleep, and he looked just as exhausted as I knew Bill had to be. It tended to make tempers very short.

Sam narrowed his eyes. "What's the matter with you?"

Instead of answering, Bill turned to me. "I said, get back upstairs."

"Yes, Bill" stopped right on the edge of my bottom lip. Luckily, I didn't have to back it up, because Sam grabbed Bill's forearm and spun him around.

"Calm down, squid-boy. Go take it out on the oven you threw into the backyard." He'd regained his composure again, had become the stolid deputy marshal. His stance hinted that he could take Bill down if he got too rowdy, but I didn't want that to happen.

"Boys, no fighting in the kitchen, okay? I don't need to lose any more of the cookware."

Bill was having none of it. He was pissed, and getting wound up. I didn't want him hurt, he still wasn't up to full strength, although he'd lost the walking-dead scarecrow look of past weeks.

"I told you to calm down." Sam's warning was thinly veiled. His even delivery made it even more ominous. He'd seen people lose their cool before, and Bill was no exception to the rule, especially when it involved someone who could take what he could dish out.

"Or what, you'll kick my ass?"

"Bet on it."

"Just like ya did when I cracked up your GTO?" It came out quick, and Bill seemed to step back two paces, mentally and physically, right after he said it. The look on Sam's face cemented the fact that it had been a major slip on Bill's part. He looked as close to shocked as I think I'd ever seen him.

I began quietly herding Jade and the children, who were practically sleeping standing up, leaning against each other, out of the room. Jade gave me a quizzical look, but I promised her that I would fill her in after she'd gotten some sleep. Elmore followed her, the baby secure in his arms, knowing that if I needed him, he'd be down in a flash. Ryan stood by the door, sentry-like, and when I glanced at him, he sent me one of those looks that told me that he'd be around. He slipped into the living room and stretched out on the couch.

"Wha..." Sam's voice lost it's volume, as if all the air had left him.

Bill's voice was a low growl, but without anger.

"...not how I wanted to tell you..."

I stepped out of the room, my back against the wall, listening to the sounds from around the corner, in the kitchen. I couldn't bear to watch.

Sam's voice was impassive.

"Eliot."

Bill, hushed.

"Yeah."

Sam, even quieter, rough.

"God damn you."

There were the sounds of a scuffle, kitchen chairs falling over, glass breaking, and the door slamming shut. I heard none of the usual screaming, swearing, or rude commentary from the two of them. It seemed more serious than that.

Ryan looked to me.

"Lass...?"

"Ryan... could you..."

He nodded, simply, and rose, walking past me and through the kitchen. I heard the door open.

"Samuel! Christ Jesus, boy."

As the door slammed shut, I realized I was frozen to the spot. I wanted to run and get Elmore, so that he could help out. I wanted to go outside and yell at the two boneheads rolling around in my back yard. They were both too stubborn to talk.

"Damnit."

I slipped on Bill's boots, which were way too large for my feet, but were warm and would keep my feet from becoming ice cubes, and trudged through the kitchen. The cold hit me hard in the face and I wished I'd grabbed a coat before coming outside. The wind chill was brutal.

All I could see was Ryan's broad back, clothed in a brown flannel shirt, two pairs of feet to his right, and a lot of snow. They'd made it out past the barn, but in the still of the early morning, I could hear them very clearly.

"Samuel... damnit, Samuel, ye gobshite, stop..."

Ryan's voice was firm, but not angry. He pulled Sam up by the shoulders. His face was red, from the wind or his fury, I couldn't be sure. He worked loose and swung a fist again, but Ryan caught it, pushed him back, hard. Sam fell backwards into the snow and Ryan planted one knee atop his chest, pinning him in the hard-packed, icy snow.

"Now, are ye gonna argue with me again, boyo?"

"Get off of me, you goddamned bogtrotting prick!"

"Now, now, Samuel. Watch your gob. Not while me children are within earshot."

I turned and saw two round faces in the window on the second story. They instantly dropped out of sight.

"Goddamn..."

I turned to see Bill struggling to his feet, swearing incessantly and bleeding from the nose. He looked a bit dizzy, but whole. He wiped his nose on his t-shirt and stared at Sam and Ryan. I don't even think he saw me standing there in my long nightgown and his worn boots.

"Get. Off. My. Chest. You. Fucker."

"I don't know what ye were beating out of the boyo, but you're done, aren't ye know? 'Tis not a noble thing to be doin' to a brother, especially if he wasn't fightin' back."

I looked back to Bill. Not fighting...? He stood still, stunned-like, staring at the two. I walked out to him.

"Billy?" I hadn't called him that in ages, and it sounded almost silly coming out of my mouth. Nevertheless, he turned black eyes to me.

He looked hollowed-out. There were a couple of nasty lumps on his face, one over his cheekbone and at the corner of his eye. I was sure there would be more, seeing Sam's nearly bloody knuckles. Still, he managed a devilish smile that ended up being more sad than evil.

"Guess I fucked this one up royally, eh, Punk?"

"Did he really beat the crap out of you for wrecking his GTO?"

He smiled, and this time it met his eyes. A good memory. "Yeah. But he hated the car. That's what led him to buy that little Mustang, like the one you and Jade found..."

Without any other word, he sighed and walked back to the house, limping slightly.

"Are ye gonna behave yourself now, Samuel?"

I heard Sam growl, which was probably about as close to a 'yes' as Ryan was going to receive. Ryan stood up and held out a hand for Sam, who took it and stood up himself, brushing snow off his jeans.

Ryan clapped one hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Now, ye get in there and talk to the boy. Understand?"

Sam shook his head mutely. He was left with the look that Bill had before he'd gotten pummeled: he was stunned. He started toward the house, then saw me standing outside like a homeless person.

"You need to get inside, Deb. You're going to freeze to death."

He was hoarse, and his eyes were red.

"I will. I was just worried about you... the both of you," I said.

He seemed to know what both of us were thinking. He sighed wearily. "Just... gimme some time, both of ya. I'm... gonna go to bed...."

"Anything, Sammy. If you want, I can, you know, talk about it..."

"Thanks, li'l sis, but I need to be alone. I need to rest."

He walked past me, and Ryan collected me and brought me inside.

I stood in the kitchen, feeling my skin slowly defrost, and watched Sam as he ascended the stairs to his room.

"Do you think..."

"No, lass. I think the fire has gone out of Samuel for the night. You'd better go check on your William." Ryan filled the tea kettle and put it on the stove to heat.

I didn't move. I was scared. There had been a look on Sam's face that I'd not seen before, something between betrayal, rage, pain, and shock. I felt as if we were all at the brink of something that may very well change my relationships with Bill and Sam both, and I was terrified of what it all might mean.

Ryan, on the other hand, seemed like a calm within the storm. As if he knew what my silence meant, he retrieved another mug from the cupboard and dropped a teabag in it.

"You'll be having tea with me then?"

"Yeah."

Right as the tea kettle started to whistle, he snagged it from the heat and poured steaming water into each cup. I noted, as he sat down, that his mug had two bags in it. I stared at the surface of the water in my own cup, watched the tea turn the liquid a thin brown. The steam rose up to my nose and curled around my face, enveloping me in a soft warmth. It made me sleepy.

"Now, you'll be explaining to me what in hell is going on."

He said this with a smile playing on his lips, just peeking out from behind the rim of the cup.

I explained to him what I knew from the memo from Bill's box that I'd found, and from what very little he'd told, or implied, to me. I realized, from listening to myself speak, that I knew hardly anything at all about the situation myself. How had he lost his memories of his family? How had he gone on for this long without remembering? What about his mother, had she actually died of cancer, or was it all a story? By the end of the short tale, I was much more lost than I had any right to be. Ryan listened to every word, intently, sipping at his tea.

"You're frightened that he's not the man you knew him for, are ye not?"

I nodded an affirmative.

"And that he may leave..."

I looked back down at my tea, gave him another nod. It was one of my biggest fears, looming over me, nearly drowning me in it's shadow. I was afraid to be alone, afraid that he'd finally have enough of me and I'd wake up one morning by myself. And now, there was so much more to consider...

"Take heart, lass. He's from tougher sod than all that." He rested one hand on my forearm. I held the mug in both hands, as if it anchored me to the world. It didn't matter. Call it a phobia, call it stupid, it was still there, and I'd never been able to shake it, even when I felt my most safe.

"These lads, myself included, have endured many things. This is merely another. Let them absorb this knowledge. I think Samuel hides himself, and this has been a rude awakening for him. He will eventually come around and find it to be the blessing it is. William..." He took a sip of his tea, his brow furrowing, thinking. "He may have already realized something, else he would have fought when Samuel attacked him. 'Tis not in him to hold his fist."

"Neither one of those idiots will see it as a blessing, that's more than obvious. But Bill hasn't said much about it either way. Of course, that might have been because the baby was on his way..." My thoughts drifted to Rainer, and I panicked for half a second. Then I remembered Elmore had taken him upstairs. I'd have to collect him before going back to bed.

"Ah, but if only me brother were alive, I'd never have a dark word for him again. He'd be proud of the wee ones, how much they've learned..."

His voice had dropped in register. I took a drink of the now-warm tea. Strong enough. The whole experience was bothering him more than he wanted to admit. Was he jealous of Sam, or had the news stirred up desires to see his brother one last time?

"I'm sorry, Ryan."

He shrugged. "God wills it."

A moment passed. Ryan finished his tea and stood up.

"He's not goin anywhere, lass. Samuel may roam, as is his way, but William, he's bound to you. Don't worry it so much." His hand on my shoulder gave me the strength I needed to get up myself.

"Thanks, Ryan."

"Go to bed, lass. Your gobshite needs ye."

I giggled tiredly, then washed out my mug and started up the stairs. I peeked into Elmore's room to find him asleep, tangled in the sheets, but no Rainer. I stepped inside but he wasn't in the room at all.

"Ma?"

"Sorry, Elmore. Just looking for Rainer."

"He's in your room. I put 'im t'bed."

"Thanks Elmore. Good night."

"'Night, Ma."

I closed the door quietly behind me and padded to the bedroom. It was dark, but I could see Bill's shape in the bed, underneath the sheet. One foot stuck out of the bedding, and I resisted the urge to grab it and tickle it. He'd yell, but probably not in the way that usually gave me a charge. I slipped out of my robe and got into bed, to find Rainer asleep on Bill's broad chest. Bill's hand rested protectively on the baby's back.

I watched them both sleep, wondering what my little man's last name would end up being, and what he would know his father's name to be. Would he ever hear the name "Strannix", or would Bill end up being "Eliot Gerard"?

I finally closed my eyes, and took Ryan's advice. I'd let it all work itself out. For now.