Jeremy got up in the morning, sliding out of bed and first making up his bed and pulling off his nightshirt, before heading to the wardrobe for clean clothes. He washed up, briefly, before getting dressed.

Jason, sitting at the table with a newspaper, watched him discreetly. He certainly looked well and healthy, and moved accordingly. The last few months of actively working was giving definition to the boy's muscles, something that had gone unnoticed (by Jason) until now. His upper arms and upper legs especially. Well, it was about time he started showing how strong he was.

Jason wondered how often he was going to miss the lanky bag of bones – toothpick bones, he'd once thought them – that had been his youngest brother for most of his life. He shook the thought off. It made no difference. The child was disappearing too fast at long last. (Hadn't Da said something like that, and more than once, as his time ran out? The days were long but the years short, wasn't it?)

Jeremy came to the table, poured himself a cup of coffee and refilled Jason's, and began toasting some bread on the stovetop. "Wh-where's Josh?"

"Out and about."

"And you ain't – aren't? How c-come?"

"Oh, I was out earlier, collected the mail and the papers." Jason tapped the one he'd been reading.

"Why w-were you l-looking at m-me that way?"

"What way?"

"While I w-was g-getting dressed."

"If you must know, I was thinking that if I'd known working would give you muscles, I'd have put you to work a long time ago."

Jeremy thought that over while getting the butter from the pantry. "No, you wouldn't. Y-you didn't l-let Josh, an' you n-never let the b-boys that b-bring messages. Why not, Jason? Other loggers do."

"I've seen children hurt and killed at those jobs. I'll not be responsible. If an operation or a machine needs boys because they're the only ones small enough to get the job done, then the operation needs to figure a different way of working, and the machine needs to be built with bigger workers in mind. Children should be children as long as they can."

"Oh." Jeremy brought his toasted bread to the table.

"Indeed." Jason turned the page while Jeremy ate. "We need to talk."

"D-did I d-do somethin' wrong?"

"No, but we need to talk about your nightmares."

"I don't 'member them."

"You remembered to apologize to Josh."

Jeremy grinned. "Th-that's enough to b-be a n-nightmare by itself."

Jason laughed. "Maybe. But, unless I'm guessing wrong, that's something more recent, and the fact is, you did remember it, with all your usual dream babble. It's the first time that's happened."

Jeremy used one of his sidelong looks through his lashes. "M-maybe it's the f-first t-time I n-needed to apologize."

"Somehow I doubt that."

Jeremy put down his coffee cup and turned to face Jason directly. "Wh-what are you th-thinking?"

"Several things. Ms. Amelia said you might start remembering your nightmares. And you might have them more frequently until you could remember them."

"Huh." Jeremy picked his cup back up.

"You remembered about Josh – and I don't need details, at least not now. That you remembered is a change." Jason's tone was gentle. He hoped he didn't set anything off or back.

"Uh-huh."

"You said something else you've never said before, too. You said you wished you had never been born."

Jeremy's eyes widened. He shook his head, but didn't speak.

"Do you feel that way, Jeremy? And, if you do, how often?" Please god, don't let him say yes to that.

Jeremy shook his head without speaking. What a funny thing – not fun funny – for him to say. And there was something like – like – oh he didn't know how to say it. It was like the memory of an echo of a shouted whisper. The words were somehow familiar, and just plain scary.

"Talk to me," Jason coaxed, worried by the boy's changing expression.

"D-d-don't know. I - I sorta rem-member the w-words, b-b-but not r-really, and it's s-scary," Jeremy said, then added passionately, "and it's your fault! You weren't there!"

It was hard to say which brother was more astonished by that rushing outburst.

Jeremy burst into tears and threw himself at Jason, who held him until the little storm ended.

"Well now, that sounded awfully close to a memory."

Jeremy nodded, then shook his head. "M-mayb-b-be alm-m-most, but n-n-n-ot really."

"We'll leave that part alone for now. I'm more worried about if you really think that way. About being born."

Jeremy shook his head, then asked practically, "Who th-thinks about th-things like that?"

"People who wish they hadn't been born."
"Why, Jason? Why? Why w-would anyone d-do th-that? F-feel that way?"

"Usually it's when bad things happen to them. Say a man gets injured and can't work and take care of his family anymore. He might think everyone would be better off if he'd never been born."

"That's not the same."

"No, it isn't. But I suppose anyone that had something bad happen to them could feel that way. Nobody wants to be in pain all the time, and that sometimes happens. Some people become sad all the time, sometimes not even getting out of might have felt that way when you were teased at school for not speaking right."

Jeremy shook his head. "No, I only just w-wanted to t-talk right an' w-wished I n-never start-ted n-not t-talking right."

"I wanted to be sure. It would grieve me if you felt that way."

"I d-don't want to never d-do that."

"I don't ever want to not be there for you, but apparently, at some time, I wasn't." Jason couldn't resist bringing the subject back up. The old woman had said he might have to use some persuasion, but to be gentle.

Jeremy shook his head. "The only t-times you n-never wasn't was wh-when y-ou c-couldn't be."

Jason took a moment to analyze that statement. "Such as?"

Jeremy shrugged. "When you hadda work."

"Oh."

Jeremy sighed. "I jus' wished you din't. Somet-times."

"I wished I didn't a lot of times, but since I had to, I tried to make the best of it."

"Prob'ly you l-liked it."

"Sometimes, some parts; yes. I did."

"I w-want to g-go outside. Is that okay?"

"Wear your coat. The wind is cold."

"M-maybe it will snow." Jeremy was pulling his boots on.

"Maybe. If it does, we might go play in it."

Jeremy grinned and grabbed his coat. "That would b-be fun. Play instead of w-work."

"It'd be a nice change." Jason dropped a hat on the boy's head and pulled the ear flaps down, and handed him a pair of gloves. "Don't run and get overheated or you'll be right back in that bed."

Jeremy opened the door, and glanced at the beds, and shrugged. "G-gonna be there anyway. It's my bed."

Jason laughed as he closed the door behind the boy.