The kid takes him to the ground, hard and fast, and the knife punches right through his throat. The man gurgles and blood sprays, and the kid's head snaps up, blond hair flying everywhere, as he gives the blade a final, savage, twist and pulls it free. He'd know those eyes anywhere. It's Jim Kirk.

"It's the greatest ship ever built." His voice cracks, and he tells himself it's because he's been speaking for probably days now and he's thirsty and his throat is probably bleeding and Bones will kill him, goddamit, Jim – A tear leaks out of the corner of his eye. "I want to go home." He whispers.

She grows up knowing exactly what her name means, and unlike others, she is not restricted by it but revels in it.

"You once asked me if it bothered me, all this Harry Potter's daughter stuff. I lied and told you no."

George looks up, and for a moment he's fourteen again, and he's staring into his friend's stark white face through the bars on the window, full of surprise and delight but mostly astonishment that someone had cared enough to come and get him.

Harry is five when he realizes heroes don't exist.