Title: tell me a story
Disclaimer: not my characters; just for fun.
Warnings: AU before pilot
Pairings: Sam/Jessica
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 425
Point of view: third
When my brother Daniel was very young, he was an only child. He told me once that it was awesome being the little prince of the family, but I know he was actually lonely. He loved being a big brother, thought it gave him a point of being, a purpose.
I find that sad, now, as I look back. That he needed me to give his life meaning. He always had to have someone to look out for.
He would have made a wonderful father.
-
My mother died when I was six months old, and Daniel four, murdered in my nursery. Dad went crazy, determined to track her killer down. He took Daniel and me with him, ruining us for most anything else.
He'd been a Marine, so he trained us to fight, to use guns and knives, to kill. Daniel lived to please him, but I wanted more.
I don't think Daniel ever really understood that, my hope for normality. But he still helped me, covering for me when I was at soccer or play practice. He still let me go when I announced that Harvard accepted me.
He didn't choose a side in my last fight with Dad. He listened to the yelling, no expression on his face, but he followed me out the door and told me to get in his car.
Daniel drove me to Harvard and gave me a thousand dollars. I never saw him again.
-
Until I was eighteen, every memory somehow included Daniel. He was always there, ready to help me tackle anything. His entire existence revolved around me. I didn't realize that wasn't normal or healthy till my teens.
One of the earliest things I remember, Daniel and I made a fort in the living room. I probably wasn't even two, so Daniel couldn't have been more than six. I don't know where Dad was.
Daniel told me that I had to stay in the fort, so the fire-monster couldn't get me. "Benny," he said, "we're safe in here. Never, ever leave."
My brother would never leave the family, would never leave me or Dad, given the choice.
But he wasn't given a choice.
-
Jessica couldn't go on. Still over two hundred pages to read of Sam's book, and she was bawling her eyes out, because she knew how the story went.
She gently closed the manuscript and placed it on the table. She'd continue tomorrow. For now, though, she'd go curl up with Sam and asks for tales about two brothers, always and forever together.