Tuck Squared

By Rachel Greenham

Using characters and situations created by Ellen Hayes and Joel Laurence
(some mention made of some of Tigger's characters too)

Valerie Tucker strode quickly down the path to where she had parked
her bike. The appointment with Sheila had been its usual mixture of
tension and boredom, and the inevitable feeling of being graded.
Still, she thought, it was overcast but the rain looked like it might
actually hold off and she had a full tank of gas, so a good hoon out
of the city was definitely on the cards.

It was getting to be a tradition for her, after headshrinking
sessions, as a way of unkinking all that tension. "Hoon", she
pronounced, enjoying the sound of it. It was a word she picked up from
a British bikers' newsgroup and it was just right for what she had in
mind.

She pushed the ignition, smiling at the eager sound of the engine
coming to life, and bent to unlock the disc-lock while the engine
warmed up. As she was detaching her helmet from the handlebars she
bent and looked at herself briefly in the mirror. *Hmm,* she thought,
*time to change the hair maybe*. It was black, unrelieved raven-black,
since the red stripe on the right side had been dyed out. *New year,
new hair*, she smiled.

Something else caught her eye in the mirror then, and she turned to
look directly. *Yes, that _is_ Deb's old car.* She was sure of it,
despite it being a nondescript older Toyota; you get to know a car
like that by its subtle signs after you've looked for it in a parking
lot a few times. *Fancy that. The new owner's in therapy too?*

*Maybe it's the _car_ that's to blame. It's cursed...* She laughed at
the thought, then stopped as she noticed the figure sitting at the
wheel, clearly not going anywhere. The engine wasn't even running;
whoever it was, was just sitting there. *Looks like it was a bad one
as well.* There was just something familiar about the occupant's
posture. On an impulse *Got to watch those impulses girl, they'll get
you into trouble one day* she killed the bike's engine and wandered
over towards the car, waved through the windshield in what she hoped
was a friendly, non-scary way, and went to squat by the driver's door
just as the occupant was winding the window down.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Not really," the girl in the car seemed to be looking at something in
her lap. She looked kind of butch, but in a pleasing way, Valerie
thought, in her shirt and slicked-back brown hair, shorter than her
own. Something was naggingly familiar about her though.

"Bad session, huh?"

"Yeah, you could say that."

"Yeah," she sighed, remembering. "Been there, done that. Look, if it
means anything, it _does_ help. Eventually."

"I know that, I just..."

"Yeah, I know."

"So, uh, you make a habit of approaching loonies in the parking lot?"
the girl asked, trying to make a joke of it.

"Nah, not usually." Valerie grinned. "I know the car," she admitted.
"Used to belong to my girlfriend."

The girl in the car snapped her head up at that and looked at Valerie
directly for the first time. "_What?_" she demanded. Then, as she
looked at Valerie her eyes opened wider still.

*Damn, I caught another homophobe,* Valerie thought momentarily, then
became aware of the girl's intense scrutiny and looked back. _Really_
looked. The girl had strikingly blue eyes and - Valerie suddenly
figured out where she had seen the face before.

Every day.

"Wait a minute," the girl whispered.

In the mirror.

Every hair on her body stood on end all at once. The air temperature
seemed to drop about ten degrees. _Out! Out!_ She caught herself
before falling back onto her ass, stood, stepping backwards a few
steps. Then she turned and strode quickly back towards her bike.

"Wait!"

She heard the car door behind her open.

"Wait dammit!" Footsteps. She reached the bike and threw her right leg
over the seat without slowing down. "By my blood, your blood," the
girl behind her called out. The words froze Valerie's finger just
above the starter button. The girl caught up, positioned herself
directly in front of the bike. *Not girl,* Valerie figured out in a
rush. *This is how I used to look. Before-*

"By my flesh, your flesh," she whispered the response automatically.
*Oh my God.*

*Even _I_ read me wrong,* the irrelevant thought barged in, *No wonder
I had problems.*

"By my bone, your bone. _Look_ at me, damn you."

Valerie looked again at those intense blue eyes. She - he - *oh God,*
looked as scared as Valerie felt. She was waiting, Valerie realized,
for the response. "By my life, your life," she finished.

"Positive authentication," the other one - Tuck, presumably -
breathed. "Oh God."

"Or something," Valerie answered, feeling brittle. "This is not
possible."

"I know."

Silence. They watched each other.

"Hey," Tuck grinned nervously, "you didn't pass through any FX
sequences this morning did you?"

Valerie caught the joke. "Not that I noticed. You?"

"Nope."

"How about strange wizened old men in little junk shops you've never
seen before."

Tuck shook his head. "Think I'd have noticed. Any strange enchanted
mirrors?"

"Nope. Not that I could tell. I don't have mage sight you know. Been
through any cardboard boxes?"

Valerie shook her head. "No - enchanted - doorways or anything?"

"No - um," Valerie thought about it, "No."

They both looked back to the door to the clinic. It looked ordinary
enough. As they watched some guy came out, went to his car, and drove
off, squealing tires. Everything entirely normal.

"Transporter accident maybe?"

"Ooh yeah, the mirror universe," Valerie agreed. "Which one of us gets
to be the evil one?"

"Oh, that would be me. Sorry, I'm still working on the goatee..."

"Ah, but I'm the one dressed in black," Valerie retorted, grinning.

They tried to laugh. It didn't quite work.

They watched each other. Valerie didn't have a next move.

"Hang on," Tuck said warily, "you're in Valerie-mode." Valerie nodded.
Perhaps it wasn't immediately obvious in the bike gear; or perhaps
Tuck was just being slow. She had to admit the latter was possible.
"You went to see Sheila... She _knows?_"

Valerie couldn't help chuckling. "_Everyone_ knows," she admitted, to
Tuck's nonplussed expression. "And not many of 'em were surprised
either," she added mischievously, knowing what Tuck would think of
that.

"_Everyone?_" Tuck practically boggled.

"I transitioned a few months ago," Valerie explained. "Valerie _is_ my
name now," she grinned. "Valerie Tucker. How's that sound?"

"Butbutbut..." Tuck slapped himself upside the head to unblock his
I/O. "We should talk," he declared. "Somewhere inside though, I'm
freezing."

Valerie laughed.

***

They had finally decided on the '50s style diner at Westcross Mall.
"I'll get us a table," Valerie had said while putting her helmet on,
and had then zoomed off through the traffic like it wasn't there,
leaving Tuck to sit in line. He'd had to park miles away from the
entrance too, it being the penultimate Saturday before Christmas and
hence insane.

He'd already lost his temper a couple of times in the traffic. He
never used to do that, not in that blind-rage-from-nowhere way, and he
hated that it kept happening. He'd had to pull over and cry it out
after the second time. *For God's sake, it's just _traffic_,* he tried
to tell himself. *It doesn't _matter_ that much!* It was just the way
it always left him feeling so awful.

***

Sure enough, Valerie had secured a table for two in the diner, and
even had milkshakes waiting. Chocolate, of course. He felt better
already. Not _good_ as such, he still wanted to find a quiet corner to
curl up in, but better than before.

So there _she_ sat, on the other side of the table, sucking at a
milkshake like nothing was unusual. Her black-dyed hair, longer than
his, was cut into an undisguisably feminine style. Her eyebrows had
been shaped lightly, he noticed, thinking irrelevantly that it looked
nice. It suited her, making her features appear more delicate and
expressive. Her ears had been pierced too, though she just had studs
in; presumably, Tuck guessed, limited to wearing those by the bike
helmet.

She had shed the heavy cordura bike jacket revealing a simple strappy
black top. There was no-where really for her bra straps to hide, so
they showed, and she seemed unselfconscious about that. She also wore
two or three necklaces including, he noticed with a pang, the
half-medallion Julia had given him all that time ago. Debbie had the
other half.

"No," she was saying, "I couldn't do the summer sitting for them in
the end. Mom and Dad decided I needed to be sent away to camp
instead."

"Camp? What, a summer camp?"

"Boot camp."

"You're _kidding!_" She shook her head ruefully. "They wouldn't be so
dumb. No _way!_"

"Way. Just shows you can never tell dunnit?" She grinned and took
another suck. Tuck just stared. She could even do _that_ in a manner
that seemed more delicate, somehow more refined. "_But,_" she
continued, "That's not where I ended up, thank Ghu. There was a mix-up
at this train station..."

She continued the story, every now and then reaching forward to lift
his jaw from the tabletop; in a metaphorical sense, just barely.

***

"Hit-men?" She nodded. "What? Actual..." She nodded again. Tuck felt
_extremely_ skeptical about that, and knew it showed.

"Well it _turned out_ that Teresa was really there 'cause she was in
hiding, and she'd been sent there by the Witness Protection Program,
that one of Jane's friends was involved in."

"That sounds like a really dumb idea."

"Jane didn't know. She thought it was just a probation case. When she
found out she went _ballistic_ at her friend. And believe me, you
don't want to be at ground zero when Jane goes off."

"So whatcha do?"

"We-ell, Mike had this bizarre idea I might need help or something, so
he'd turned up with all the social-work gear..."

***

"Dad promised you a laptop if you'd finish the course?" She nodded.
"Ooh, that's cruel." She nodded again.

"I got it though," she sang triumphantly, and twisted to dig it out of
her backpack. "Once Dad was convinced I hadn't gone to the wrong place
on _purpose_, that is. He needed to be persuaded that I still had a
moral right to the thing." She brought it out.

"Oh a Libretto, I nearly got one of those."

"Whatcha get then?"

"I had to _buy_ mine," he muttered. "Well, half of it anyway," and
bent to extract it from his own pack. Unlike a Libretto it wasn't
_quite_ light enough to carry around everywhere, but he did anyway.
What could you do? You just never knew when it might come in handy.

"Ooh, Stinkpad," she crowed when she saw it.

"Yeah, but _mine_ hot-charges _and_ trickle-charges batteries," Tuck
retorted. "Can't do that with a 50."

"Point," Valerie conceded. "Whatcha got on it then?"

"Windows," Tuck preened. "Plus-Pack 'n' all." Valerie stared at him
for a long, shocked moment, until Tuck couldn't keep his face straight
any longer. "Gotcha!" he cackled.

"Yeah, I deserved that for asking," Valerie admitted, chuckling too.
"I _could_ have meant what distro," she added, sourly, after it was
too late.

They got down to geeking for a while.

***

"You and Debbie broke up?" Valerie looked aghast. "When? _Why?_"

Tuck sighed. He really didn't want to talk about it.

"I _know_ you don't want to talk about it, Tucker, but I need to know.
Seriously, please?"

So he told her. He noticed her hand move unconsciously to the
medallion several times as he spoke.

"And that was _it?_ A _misunderstanding?_" Valerie was almost
apoplectic. "And you never even _talked_ about it?"

"In case you hadn't noticed she's not always the most _rational_
person around, Val," he retorted. "She _left_ me there," he reminded
her. He could feel himself being drawn into the darkness, jumped at
the touch of Valerie's hand on his. He forced himself back into the
now. "It was too easy for her to get me to do stuff."

"Ah well, we worked on that," Valerie mentioned, watching Tuck's
eyebrows head north, but Valerie didn't elaborate. She was thinking.
They didn't look like nice thoughts. "So anyway," she snapped herself
out of it, "you with anyone new?" Tuck felt the blush starting
immediately, and of course Valerie saw it. "There is! Come on, who is
it? Anyone I'd know?"

He hesitated, then to torture her dragged it out as he sucked his
milkshake dry.

"Travis?" he said, mousily.

"_Travis?!_" Loud enough for heads to turn. Tuck almost ducked and
covered. She lowered her voice again. "You mean - _Travis_ Travis?
Godawful-huge guy?" she waved her hand somewhere over her head to
illustrate. "Boy-scout?" Tuck nodded, smugly, while privately thinking
*there's not so much to be smug about just now.* Travis was being...
_off_ lately. Of course he was being too damned _nice_ to say
anything, like what it was that was bothering him. Besides, Tuck had a
feeling he knew the answer to that one, he just didn't want to hear
it. *You're a coward, Eugene*, he kicked himself.

"I don't believe it."

"Oh come on Val, you kissed him too!"

She thought about it. "Yeah, OK, I can see it. I guess." She shook her
head, incredulous. "Sheet girl, you not goin' all het on us now are
ya?"

Tuck laughed out loud at the accent before hearing the words properly.

"Het? Are you kidding?" Tuck was still trying to stop laughing. "In
case you hadn't _noticed_..." he waved _down_. She waved that away.

"Never mind the biology, Tuck, you know perfectly well that going with
Travis is _all_ about the boy-meets-girl thing."

"Including the sex? _Which_ we've had, by the way," Tuck added almost
as a challenge, "quite frequently as it happens." Well, until recently
anyway.

Valerie raised one of her shapely eyebrows. "What, er, up the..." Tuck
nodded. The other eyebrow apparently felt lonely and went up to join
the first. "He knows then, I presume?" Tuck nodded. "And didn't beat
you to a pulp?" Tuck shook his head.

"He's a real peach, Val."

"Oh man, this is weird," she commented. *Which part?* Tuck wanted to
say. "Did - Doesn't it - hurt?" she asked, and grinned as he shifted
awkwardly in his seat from the memory.

"Kindof," he admitted, "but it's nice too, you know?" She looked
goggle-eyed at him and he had to repress a giggle. "And, as you so
kindly reminded me, he is _huge_," he teased her, and was rewarded
with seeing her gulp, then thought of something she perhaps needed to
know. "It hurt a lot the first time, 'cause I was stupid and didn't
use lube. Remember, if you want to do this, lots and lots of lube.
Seriously."

"Can't see me wanting to," she replied with a slight grimace, then
shrugged. "Okay, maybe I can," she smiled, pointing back at Tuck.
"Everyone's kind of expecting me to want SRS after I've done the RLT
thing anyway..." she stopped at Tuck waving his hands.

"TLA table lookup failure!" he called. Valerie rolled her eyes at him.

"Damn it Tuck, you're going to have to learn this stuff one day. Makes
talking about it not have to take all day for a start." She sighed.
"To put it bluntly, It seems that now I've chosen to live as this, I'm
supposed to be _overjoyed_ at the prospect of getting a new orifice
carved out." Tuck's mouth formed a silent 'Oh'. "Have you noticed how
everyone's so eager to _correct_ our little 'problem?'"

Tuck nodded. "Yeah, I'd noticed."

"Well," she was warming to her theme, "have you ever considered that
what's wrong with our bodies is," she leaned forward and dropped her
voice conspiratorially, "_absolutely nothing?_"

Valerie leaned back and held Tuck's gaze a long time.

***

"Refill please," Valerie told the waitress.

"And you, Miss?"

Tuck just nodded, but it was like he just _deflated,_ Valerie saw, as
soon as the waitress's back was turned. *So that's what I looked like
when that happened,* she realized suddenly. She put her hand over his.
His was trembling, it was clenched so tight, but it made him meet her
eyes again, at least.

***

"Oh God, I mean, I spent the whole time at Jane's counting off the
days 'til I'd get out of there, you know? Back to normal." Tuck
coughed meaningfully at that. Valerie rolled her eyes in
acknowledgment and sighed. "Well yeah. It started when Mom and Dad
wanted to know how the hair happened. And the pierced ears..."

"Lielielie..." Tuck put in.

"I ran out of lies, Tuck." She looked at him, he seemed confused by
that. She dropped her eyes to the table again, remembering that
unhappy time. "I tried to get back into the old swing of things, but I
couldn't hack it any more, you know? The constant switching, the
hiding, the lying to people, being _afraid_ all the time..." She could
feel herself tearing up about it all over again. "Da- darnit - no,
_damnit_" she giggled, incongruously. "And damn that Jane and her
manners; sometimes you _need_ to curse properly," she smiled, wiping
at her eyes. Tuck just continued to look confused, patiently waiting
for her to continue.

"Well, I was only home, what, a week? But when Mike and I went back to
Jane's to put in that security system we'd agreed on, it was a relief,
you know, to just _be_ one thing and not have to worry about it or
make decisions about it. Even if she did keep on correcting my manners
when I was _supposed_ to be working," she rolled her eyes at the
memory. "I mean, you can only be so delicate and ladylike about laying
cable, right?"

"Right."

"Oh, and remind me to tell you about New York later too," she grinned.
"Well, we did that work, and it came time to go home again and I
thought, 'That's it. I can't go back to that switching back and forth
again. Time to say goodbye to Valerie, and get my life back to some
kind of normal.'" Tuck nodded at that, she saw.

"But?" he prodded.

She sighed. "It seemed OK for a while. Apart from Mom nagging me to do
something about my hair. I dunno, it..." She lost herself looking out
at the shoppers in the mall; tired faces, harried, worried faces, lit
by the ghastly Christmas decorations.

"Why didn't you?"

"What?"

"Do something about your hair?"

Valerie chuckled dryly. "Good question. I didn't want to. I guess I
just wasn't ready to let go of it. The fun stuff that was attached to
it in my head, if you know what I mean?"

Tuck nodded.

"Besides, it represented an _investment_." She grinned. "But I felt
emptied out, somehow. Like Valerie had taken everything, and there was
nothing left that was just Eugene. Y'know?" She looked back at Tuck;
plainly he didn't know. Or hadn't figured it out. She sighed again.
She thought she was past feeling bad about this. "And I missed the
kids terribly. I mean, I hadn't got a lot of sitting done over the
summer, but the odd evening here and there was nice, and that was all
over, and the Pack were being Different at me. I mean, they were still
friends and all, but - it was Different. I wasn't one of them any
more. Sure they tried, but it was strained. And no more sleepovers of
course. Plus _it_ kept happening. You know, 'good evening ladies,'
when I'm _trying_ to take my girlfriend out on a date." She saw Tuck
nodding at _that_. "I mean I couldn't see what I was doing to make
them _do_ that, you know? I was trying so hard."

"Jane trained you too well?"

Valerie shook her head. "I called Shar-Charlie. Turns out when
she-er-he got back to California, he didn't have any trouble at all
settling back in _as_ Charlie. He said _his_ 'big sister' Joan, or
rather John, got back into the guy-thing easily enough too. Then I
called Jane and apparently she's had _one_ kid, like _ever,_ who
didn't go back. Turned out to be TS and Jane's program didn't work
right on her either."

"Just like you, then."

She shook her head again. "_Nothing_ like me, apparently. Or, Jane
said, she might have had a better idea what to do with me. But she did
say one thing that she'd learned dealing with this Caitlyn: 'A girl
isn't going to be embarrassed by being made to do girly things.'"

After a moment's pause they both locked eyes and spoke in unison,
"Jill." Valerie chuckled out loud, but Tuck was frowning, already
moving on.

"But I don't _want_ to be a girl," Tuck continued. Valerie winced at
the whine in his voice when he said that. It was embarrassing to think
she had once been that stupid.

"You met Sheila? Jack's friend Sheila I mean, not Sheila-the-Shrink?"

Tuck nodded. "At the con."

"Try saying that to her some time. It's quite - entertaining." She
sighed at Tuck's quizzical look. "What you _want_ is irrelevant. What
you _are_ has to be acknowledged. What you _do_ about it when you've
finished eating your own bullshit is the question.

"I didn't _want_ to be a girl either. Nor, for your information, did
Sheila, as she explained to me at _quite_ some length." She let that
information start to sink in, remembering how she had been when she
heard it. It had been an angle that she simply had not thought of at
all. She heard herself sounding irritable as she spoke, knowing it was
at her own thickheadedness at the time as much as at Tuck's, now. She
stopped herself before she started ranting properly.

"So you, um," Tuck struggled, "you decided you're a girl after all
and..." Valerie was shaking her head.

"Sheila said another interesting thing, I thought. 'Forget the
jargon,' she said, 'all that matters is doing what you have to do to
be yourself. _Whatever_ that is.' This," she gestured at herself, "is
a closer approximation. I can be _me_ like this, and it doesn't turn
heads. It's not _too_ weird, as in
beat-the-shit-out-of-the-little-faggot weird for example." She
shrugged. "You might have noticed I'm not exactly the same femme
little Val from before the summer?"

***

Tuck had noticed. Valerie seemed _stronger_ somehow. Like she could go
ten rounds with a batlh'etlh or something. It wasn't that she was
built up or anything, though she was clearly in pretty good shape. He
wondered if she worked out; her arms, left free by the strappy top,
showed a lot more muscle tone and definition than his. He knew he was
well out of shape now. It was more her attitude, her posture, like she
_belonged_. Like a whole, real, person, which was a parsec away from
how Tuck felt most of the time. Most of the time he felt like he could
just dissolve into the air. Sometimes he found the feeling comforting.

"I looked at what I had to lose each way," Valerie continued, "and
whaddya know? This won. It wasn't," she added to Tuck's doubtful
expression, "that easy telling Mom and Dad." She breathed in,
raggedly. Tuck could guess why. He tried to imagine what had finally
pushed Valerie to that point. He couldn't, and he thought she wasn't
telling all of it even so, but there she was. The sky had fallen and
_there she remained_.

She was sitting there _almost_ calmly talking about having gone
through the very things _he_ feared more than anything in the world.
More than doctors even. "How," he whispered, "how did they take it?"
He reckoned he was Need To Know.

***

She smiled ruefully. "Shocked, and sad mainly I think. They didn't get
mad, I _know_ that's what you're thinking." For a moment she lost
herself, back in the living room, seeing the same expression on both
their faces, their hands, as if without volition, finding each other.
She, feeling like she'd stepped over the cliff and was falling,
falling, towards the jagged rocks below. *Please say something,* she
willed at them.

It was Dad who had moved first. He didn't say anything, but got up.
She remembered thinking for one _awful_ moment he was just going to
storm out, but instead, wordlessly, he'd gathered her in and held her
and _then_ she cried, hard, into his chest. Then she saw her mother,
still on the sofa, looking stricken.

"Mom took it worse," she said, back in the present. "She blames
herself. I wish," she sighed, hugging her elbows. "I wish she
wouldn't," she finished lamely.

"Brian was a shit about it for a while," she continued. "Still can be.
But then, he _took_ a lot of shit about it, so I can kind of
understand it. It's a horrible age to discover who your real friends
are. He's coming round. I think he's deciding his new big sister's
cool after all, since I'm teaching him and his friends street
skating." She grinned. "Hey, you'll never guess: His friends have
started calling him Tuck now. That's _really_ weird, like when they're
round visiting and one of them yells 'Tuck' and I'm trying not to
jump, you know?" She giggled at Tuck's expression then, and shrugged.
"He number one son now, I guess it's his privilege or something.
Either that or they're trying to rile me, which is _always_ a
possibility, but I dunno," she shrugged again, "It's kind of helped me
to let go of it, you know?"

***

"Andy Calloway? That rings a bell..." Tuck interrupted. That stopped
Valerie in her tracks. She was going to demand how, but he was zoned
out. *Data retrieval in progress*, she realized. Irrelevant and
useless information took longer to pull out. "Calloway Investments?"
She nodded. "Yeah, there was something on the news this summer. Some
accounting scandal or something. Missing records. It hit the news
'cause they had some famous, and I mean _famous_ clients that lost a
lot of money through that. The guy tried to blame it on his sysadmin,
of course." Valerie only stared, a chill starting at the back of her
neck and on her arms as the little hairs stood up.

"In this case it _was_ the sysadmin," she replied, only half her mind
on the conversation. "The guy was an incompetent jerk; it was all
there, he'd just done an filesystem delete on the files." She sighed.
"Competent enough I guess if you can't find anyone better in time.
Tuck," she changed tack, "there's something we haven't done yet. Are
you in my world or am I in yours?"

Tuck thought about that. "Easy enough to find out; we find someone we
know and see how they react to your hair," he grinned. Valerie wasn't
in the mood.

"No, quicker than that. We check that story out." She produced a
mobile phone, dumped it onto the table and was already diving back
into her laptop case, emerging with a lead.

"Could be we're in a superposition of both, until we find out," Tuck
observed.

"Let's collapse that wave then," Valerie grinned.

Within a few practiced seconds one end of the lead was clipped into
the card already in the PCMCIA slot, and the other into the bottom of
the phone. A riffle on the keyboard and - nothing. "That's odd," she
mused, and tried again. Nothing. She unclipped the phone and looked at
it. "Can't register? Huh?"

Tuck shrugged. "Maybe you just can't get a signal in here. We are in
the middle of a mall..."

"Hmm, maybe," she mused doubtfully. *Seems to be finding the network,
signal strength is okay, they probably have a repeater in the mall.
It's just not...* "You got a phone?" Tuck shook his head. "Got an
acoustic coupler for that thing then?" she pointed at the Thinkpad.

"Yeah, sure."

"Come on then, we're leaving." She started packing away her gear.

***

"Shit, there it is." They were camped out on the floor under one of
the payphones, the lead for the acoustic coupler trailing up to the
phone handset, dangling by its cable, Tuck's phonecard in the slot.
Valerie had commandeered the Thinkpad and had been grepping the AP
feed archives on the home server.

She'd found what she was hoping not to. Calloway Investments had
collapsed; a lot of people had lost a lot of money. *Because I wasn't
there?* Valerie shivered. She had a much _worse_ thought, and got out
to do another search, started typing more terms hoping, _hoping_ it
would find nothing; or rather, that it would find the bogus story
she'd hacked into the feed to get the cartel off Julio's back...

Her heart sank as the results came back. She selected the most
useful-looking one, not wanting to read it. The story told of the
gangland execution-style fatal shooting of two teenage boys in a small
but wealthy town in New England. From the text it seemed to have been
mainly newsworthy for two reasons. Firstly, that sort of thing just
didn't happen in places like that, just outside a midsummer night
society ball no less, as opposed to some deprived inner city slum.
Secondly, and even more newsworthy, of course, both boys' bodies had
been found wearing ballgowns and make-up. Initial speculation was that
the boys had entered into a suicide pact, until it had been discovered
that one of them, Julio Castilliano, had been a witness in some
narcotics case against a Columbian drugs cartel, and it was generally
reckoned to have been a revenge-killing. The other victim, Eugene
Wallace, seemed to have no connection to any of that except for having
been in the wrong place at the wrong time, or had just paid the price
for standing by his friend.

Valerie read on through the follow-up stories. The boys had been in
the care of one Jane Thompson; she and a third boy, unnamed for legal
reasons, had been taken in for questioning when the FBI joined the
investigation, but released without charge. The sleepy New England
town had been shaken by the scandal of what had been going on in their
midst for _years_... Valerie could read no more. She logged out in a
couple of keystrokes and stood up to pull the coupler off the handset,
tapped the hook and started dialing a new number.

Tuck stood up to join her, guarding the laptop and bags with his feet.

"Hello?" Valerie said into the phone after a few moments. "Can I talk
to Charlie please?" Pause. "Shar? No, it's Val. Va... No I'm not a
reporter. I just want... _Wait_..." She held the handset away and
stared at it. "He hung up," she murmured, then looked directly at
Tuck. She looked so lost. He moved to hug her, but she twisted out of
the way, then sat back down abruptly on the floor by the payphones and
dumped her head in her hands.

Tuck knelt beside her, but she was giving off strong _don't touch me_
waves, squeezing herself up into a ball. Tuck knew that pushing
himself into that would be bad - he hated it when other people did
that, even Mike - so he sat back on his heels to wait, and busied
himself with packing away the laptop and associated paraphenalia.

Valerie did not look any more ready to engage, so Tuck settled down to
think. It wasn't as if he didn't have enough to think about. The
posture helped him to clear and order his thoughts, even as he kept a
watch on Valerie. He tried to keep his mind off the impossibility of
physics that had brought her here. If he thought too much about that
he was going to end up like her and _one_ of them needed to have their
head straight right now. *She's here,* he told himself. *Whether that
is impossible is irrelevant. It's a fact.* At least _he_ was home, as
far as he could tell.

He was impressed with her. When she had been talking he hadn't been
able to take his eyes off her, this almost-self, so confident, so
strong. She had taken the path he had barely allowed himself to think
about, and when he _had_ thought of it, it was in the same space as
thinking about death, such had been his fears of what would happen.
But she had done it, and she was still there, and not only there, it
seemed to be _working_ for her, despite the problems she had hinted
at. He still had a feeling she wasn't telling him something about how
she'd got to that point. At least she seemed more together than he
felt.

The theory had been to ease Valerie out of his life. So much for
theory. She was leaving large bloody wounds behind as she went. There
was an ache in his chest where he missed the Parker kids. There was a
constant tightness in his shoulders where the Pack's increasing
distance took root. There was the literal hunger on Sunday mornings
where there should be the accustomed breakfast at the cafe. There was
a pain behind his eyes where he was delaying that talk with Travis as
the silence grew between them. And there was that confused, rootless
feeling of guilt about Kim and Mike splitting up, and the way that had
happened. Logically, he could not see how it could have been his
fault, but he felt somehow culpable anyway.

After two shots of testosterone, nearly due for the third, he felt
most of the time like he was quietly going out of his mind. And
sometimes not that quietly. The feelings of _rage_ he kept getting,
and the almost constant feelings of being too _wired_ somehow, too
on-edge and off-balance, were driving him nuts. He'd lashed out at
friends that didn't deserve it. The panic attacks weren't going away
either. But whenever he mentioned the rage and panic stuff to Sheila
or Dana or anyone they just talked about stabilizing his hormones,
which led inevitably to the operation they wanted him to have. To
which he was afraid Mom and Dad might agree on his behalf _anyway_ for
all that they said it was all his choice. Being a minor sucked.

Then there was the other thing Valerie had said. From the moment
Debbie had seen that his breasts were growing everything had been
about what a disaster this was, that it was abnormal, wrong and had to
be fixed somehow. That he was a defective and a freak.

It was not even as if he could just blame other people; as much of it
had come from himself as from others.

Possibly more, he conceded.

Which was odd, when he thought about it, as he knew he was not usually
given to confusing "right" with "normal".

*What if there's nothing actually wrong with me?*

"Excuse me sir, are you okay?" The male voice make Tuck jump and his
eyes flew open. It was one of the mall security guys.

Valerie was no-where to be seen.

"You can't stay there," the security guy was continuing. "Folks need
to use the phones."

"Yeah, okay," Tuck replied, hurriedly getting to his feet. *Shit.
_Failed_ awareness roll.* "Did you see a girl here as well a moment
ago?" He was kicking himself for having closed his eyes to think.

"No, sorry," the man replied. "Your girlfriend?"

*Fuck.* "No, er - my sister," he decided would be simplest. "Looked a
lot like me, in bike gear?" The guy's face was a blank. "She's upset,
I've got to find her." He was already scanning the crowds, but knew he
wouldn't see here there. "Okay, thanks," he said to the security guy
by way of dismissal. "I need to find her..." and ran off, back towards
the entrance by which he'd come in, and where her bike was parked.

He hadn't had his eyes off her for that long, he thought, and it took
a while to unlock a bike. When he got to the entrance, however, there
was no sign of it, or her.

***

Valerie accelerated up the highway on-ramp heading East. It was going
to be a long trip, and she had no idea why she was going or what she
would do when she got there. She had to get away, that was obvious.
Quite apart from anything else, she dreaded the difficulties should
she encounter anyone here she knew, who would be expecting Tuck.
*Sorry, Tucker*, she wished her other-self. *It's better this way. I
don't exist. You just had a daydream or something.* The riding started
to clear her head.

She wondered if she could just ride forever. Or until she faded out.

***

"It sounds like you had a powerful vision," Mike was saying, from his
recumbent position sprawled across Tuck's bed. Tuck, sitting at the
desk, sighed.

"Thanks, Chakotay, you're a real help." Mike was into Native American
spirituality again. Tuck really wasn't in the mood.

"Well, listen to yourself, Tuck!" Mike retorted. "Come on, what's more
likely? You come out of just having had your head shrunk for the week
and you meet a version of yourself from a parallel dimension, who then
vanishes without trace, or you come out of just having had your head
shrunk for the week and you get a... Well, 'vision' _is_ the word
actually. One that articulates all the doubts you're having. People
have been receiving visions that address their most important
questions for _thousands_ of years. It doesn't have to be
supernatural, your subconscious could be doing all of this."

Tuck looked at his feet. "She was real," he murmured. "She paid for
the milkshakes, for Ghu's sake; she _knew_ the Oath! How much more
real does it have to get?" But even he heard the note of hesitation in
his voice as he said it. Was it possible he'd imagined the whole
thing?

"Look, either way," Mike continued, placatingly, "it sounds like she
gave you a lot to think about. And none too soon."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Tuck snapped, then immediately
regretted it. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that."

Mike just looked at him.

***

Valerie staggered into the motel room, almost too tired to breathe.
The bed, such as it was, looked almost irresistible. *If I sit down
I'll lie down, and if I lie down I won't get up*, she thought,
unzipping her gear and sliding out of it. *Just a few things to do and
I can sleep.* Some vaguely-remembered superstition about being a lone
female in a quiet motel motivated her enough to dig out her door
wedges and stuff them under the door.

*What next? Oh yes, and quickly I think...* She dashed to the
bathroom, pausing only to grab the small bag of supplies she'd picked
up at the last gas station.

A few minutes later, and down to her panties, she crawled into bed.
*Too tired to think,* her exhausted brain managed, *which was rather
the point... Shouldn't ride when so tired though...*

***

*Please, say something,* Tuck willed at his parents. Falling, falling.
They sat on the sofa, the same expression frozen on their faces.
Through the window he saw the jester-girl with the shining black and
red hair skating in the road.

Dad was the one to move first. He didn't say anything, but got up
slowly, his face like stone. *Dad?* Tuck tried to speak, but his mouth
wouldn't work, and nor would his legs. He watched helplessly as Dad
turned his face away and walked outside. *Don't leave me!* The door
slammed like thunder. The sound of it shook Tuck to his knees. He fell
forwards, and just kept falling.

The parade ground was cold. It was really hard trying to march in time
with the squad while wearing petticoats and Mary-Janes. A little way
off the jester-girl pirouetted, her hair flashing black and red as she
spun. Uncle Lanier was up front, bellowing out instructions. Tuck kept
tangling and tripping as the petticoats bounced back and forth at the
forced pace. *Please God, don't let him notice,* he thought. His
blonde curls kept blowing into his eyes. The jester-girl unwound from
her spin and curved away backwards and around the marching squad. Tuck
almost tripped as he watched her. She looked so familiar...

"SQUAD HALT! MISTER TUCKER," Uncle Lanier's voice was like thunder.
"YOU DO NOT APPEAR TO BE IN REGULATION UNIFORM!" The rest of the squad
snickered aloud, leering at him. "CADETS, YOU WILL ASSIST MISTER
TUCKER," Uncle Lanier continued, and strode off towards the mess hall.
The jester-girl had stopped right there next to Uncle Lanier to watch,
but no-one else seemed to see her. Then she grinned at Tuck and went
after Uncle Lanier and overtook him. Then Tuck was being hauled
backwards, strong hands around his arms, fingers yanking at his hair.
He cried out in relief, seeing Mike was among them.

"Mike! Help me!"

Mike grasped his hand, firmly. "Don't worry mano. Just hang in there."

Tuck relaxed then and let the other cadets pull him along. *It's all
right. Mike's got something planned.* It went dark as he was pulled
into the galley tent, and the _gorgeous_ smell of a huge gumbo on the
heat. "A little bit of this, a little bit of that," murmured a
familiar voice in the darkness. "Hello boys. Do you have those offcuts
ready for me?"

"Coming right up Aunt Louisa," Mike replied, and nodded at the cadets
holding Tuck's arms. Hands ripped down the top of Tuck's little-girl
dress and cut his bra away, and he was bent backwards painfully over a
work-surface. Mike came forward then with a carving knife and lined it
up under his left breast.

***

Bill Tucker came awake fast. He could grasp only the mind-echo of
whatever sound had woken him up, but he knew immediately what it was.
He could hear Eugene retching in the bathroom.

He turned his head to look at his wife. Sarah's eyes were open too, he
could see in the dim light. She had tear-streaks. "Oh Bill," she
whispered. "We're losing him." She drew in a ragged breath. "I can
feel it."

Under the quilt, his hand found hers for a moment, then he pulled
himself out of bed.

The bathroom door hung open, spilling light across the landing. He
could hear Eugene's dry heaving. "Eugene?" he called out softly, at
the doorway. The effect on his son was dramatic. Eugene jerked away
from the toilet bowl, heedless of the thread of spittle still
connecting him to it, staring wild-eyed at his father. As Bill tried
to move towards him, he cowered away slightly, then as if a switch was
thrown got his legs under him and pushed up hard, using a hand against
the wall to help lever him up, but only succeeded in clouting his head
against the underside of the wash-basin and wobbling back to his
knees. Bill moved forwards to help, but this merely seemed to
galvanize Eugene back into action. This time he got to his feet fast
and, to Bill's dismay, into a defensive posture. For all that the
child was weakened and shivering and wobbling from the head impact he
was nevertheless _ready_ to defend himself.

*Why does he think I'm a threat?*

"Eugene," he said calmly, "you had a bad dream, okay? It's over now."
In the space that followed, Eugene's ragged breathing was the only
sound. "It's over now," Bill reiterated, keeping up the calm tone,
"you're awake. Come on out of it now, son."

"Dad..." Eugene croaked, and swallowed with difficulty. *Needs a
drink,* Bill thought.

"Yeah," he nodded. "I guess that was a bad one?"

"Oh, slightly," Eugene tried a wry smile. "Oh God..." He started to
cry, right there in front of Bill. Bill gathered him in and held him,
there, for a long time.

***

"You okay now?"

Eugene shook his head. "Not really, Dad." Bill held him a while
longer. "I'm sorry," Eugene said after a while. "I'm sorry I'm such a
fuckup..."

"You're not," was all Bill could think of to say.

"Yeah I am, Dad." The voice sounded too old, too tired and too bitter
to be Bill's child. He just held on, helplessly.

***

Eugene looked truly wretched, Bill thought, now the combat-readiness
had dissipated. Pale, dehydrated, soaked in stale sweat, and the
shakes were coming on. Bill moved decisively now, rinsing out the
washbasin glass and waiting for the water to come out cold before
filling it and handing it back to Eugene. "Take it easy with that," he
warned.

"Yeah Dad, I know." He tried another smile. "I think it'll stay down
though." Bill nodded and left him for a moment to dash to the linen
closet to get a large warm blanket. While he was about it, he heard
the toilet flush, and when he returned Eugene was sitting on its lid,
shivering, still clutching the mostly-full glass. He stood,
unsteadily, to let Bill wrap the blanket around him, clutched it to
himself while he shivered.

"Look, why don't you come in with us the rest of the night, eh?" Bill
asked on a hunch. He suspected _everyone_ might get more sleep that
way. In any case, he'd looked in on Eugene's room while getting the
blanket and seen the twisted, sweat-stained sheets there. He expected
more resistance, but Eugene just nodded.

"I should change out of this stuff first," Eugene said. "It's got all
sweaty."

"Okay," Bill agreed. "You do that, and come right on in, okay?"

***

Bill looked up at the change in light. Eugene was pausing in the
doorway, obviously shy about coming in. "Come on in Eugene," Sarah
invited. "Don't hover there."

Eugene shrugged. "This feels dumb," he said. "Haven't done this since
I was a kid."

"Oh and you're _such_ a grown-up now," Sarah teased. Bill elbowed her.
Eugene set his jaw like he might go back to his room even then, but
couldn't keep a straight face as Sarah slapped Bill's shoulder in
retaliation, only to get tickled back in return.

"Eww, gross!" Eugene commented at the spectacle. Bill threw a pillow
at him. Eugene caught it and held it like a teddy bear.

"Come on kid," Bill beckoned. "Promise, not a word to Brian." Eugene
took a few faltering steps into the room and closed the door.

"Dad..." Eugene hesitated, keeping out of reach. "You wouldn't send me
to boot camp, would you?"

"What?" *Where did he get _that_ idea from?* "No, of course not!"

"What gave you that idea?" Sarah asked.

Eugene shrugged again. "Just had a feeling it's something you might
do. You know, to make a man of me or something?"

Bill sighed. "We discussed it," he admitted, "earlier in the year. We
decided it wouldn't be a good idea. We're not about to change our
minds."

"There was a lot we didn't know back then," Sarah added. "Even so,"
she continued mischievously, poking her husband in the ribs, "your
father is not telling you the whole story."

"Oh _Sarah!_" Bill whined, in a creditable impression of an
fourteen-year-old whose baby photographs were about to be shown round.

"We called your Uncle Lanier to ask his advice on it," she explained,
and _he_ said... tell him Bill, you do it better than me."

"'Son,' he said," Bill gave his Lanier impression, albeit at
considerably lower than normal volume in deference to the hour, "'you
get such half-assed thoughts out of your head this instant. If I get
so much as an _idea_ you're planning to do such a thing to that dear
child so help me I'll whip your ass all the way to Nova Scotia!'" Bill
grinned.

"Lanier said _that?_" Eugene was goggle-eyed.

"Uh-huh. Wasn't finished either. I had blisters in my ear for weeks I
swear. Threatened to come and kidnap you and Brian for safe keeping
unless we got our heads on right." He grinned.

"Wow."

"Yeah, reckon you dodged a bullet there, son," Bill grinned. Eugene
just looked thoughtful. "Lanier said it wasn't wrong for everyone, but
he couldn't think of anyone it would be more wrong for than you."

***

"Oh, you're already awake."

"Uh-huh. Shh."

"What are you doing?" Bill whispered.

"Nothing." Sarah smiled. "Just watching him sleeping."

They watched for a while.

"I missed this," Bill said after a while. Sarah nodded.

"Those times in the hospital; that wasn't the same."

"No."

Bill reached across to catch a tear, as it fell from his wife's eye.

"I'm _not_ going to lose him, Bill."

"No, _we're_ not," he gently reminded her. She smiled at that, and
caught his hand as he started to draw it back, and pulled it back
towards her, held it to her chest, her eyes watching him intently.
Bill nearly unbalanced until he shifted to compensate. The movement
rocked Eugene to and fro a couple of times. "Careful, you'll wake
him," Bill warned.

Just then Eugene stirred again and rolled over to nuzzle into Sarah's
breasts, unceremoniously displacing Bill's hand in the process. They
both stifled a giggle.

"He still does that then," Bill remarked acidly, somehow, through a
mouth that refused to stop grinning. It was interfering with his
ability to feign jealousy.

"He gets it from you, you know," Sarah accused in return. Bill grinned
wickedly.

"Maybe he's hungry?"

***
---

*Have to admit,* Valerie thought, as she trundled up main street,
*Westbury has a better _class_ of tacky Christmas decorations.* It was
cold and gusty and the roads were slick with grey slush, so she picked
her way carefully.

Finally she came to the right junction and swerved off and headed out
of town.

The gates to the mansion sported a FOR SALE sign, Valerie noted
without surprise as she sped through. The house itself stood dark and
lonely amidst the unkempt grounds. There were no obvious signs of
habitation. She pulled up in the deepening shadow at the bottom of the
steps, killed the engine and took her helmet off.

The silence was almost total. Valerie shivered in the cold of the
house's shadow, clawed her fingers through her sweaty hair, and
dismounted, leaving the bike on its kickstand. She didn't bother
chaining it up, but skipped quickly up the steps to the main door.
Peering in through the window told her only that it was dark. She
tried the door, on the offchance, and found it unlocked. She slipped
quietly inside.

*What am I doing?* She asked herself. *I could get arrested for this.*
Still, she crept along to the parlor doorway. She had had to look far
for bike boots that allowed her to walk silently, but thanked herself
for the effort now.

There was a sound, somewhere. It sounded like a door closing, maybe,
in some distant part of the house. *Better not be _haunted_,* Valerie
thought. She was about to dismiss the thought as irrational when she
reminded herself that her own presence was in about the same class of
plausibility.

The parlor was brighter, catching the last weak light of day through
the French windows. Valerie headed in, following some primeval
instinct to seek out light. The books were all gone, presumably they
filled the packing crates strewn around the room. She moved through to
the windows and saw the swimming pool; it had nothing in it now but a
few moldering leaves. She sighed. *I should not have...*

"Viewing is by appointment only," came a voice from behind her, nearly
causing her heart to hammer through her ribcage.

***

Jane Thompson raised an eyebrow at what the intruder did next. The
girl had spun around guiltily and snapped into a properly feminine
posture in one fast movement, murmuring "Sorry Jane" as she did so.
She had seen that reaction a thousand times before, of course,
whenever she had surprised one of her charges at something they
thought they should not be doing.

However, she did not recognize this dark-haired girl; for it was
certainly a girl, she thought, even through the unflattering bike gear
she had on. Her posture was pretty creditable too, given that
limitation.

"Do I know you?" she asked the girl.

"No Ms Thompson," the girl had replied. "I'm sorry, I thought the
place was empty."

"And you thought to ransack the house, I presume," Jane pressed as she
moved to throw the light switch. The girl shook her head, and flinched
at the sudden brightening of the room. Jane moved closer to the girl.
"Or why are you here?"

"Just to look around, Ms Thompson."

"Hmm." She studied the downcast girl in front of her. "No, I don't
recognize you. However, but for that, I would swear that you had been
trained at my hand." She reached out quickly and took the girl's chin
in her hand, turned her head this way and that. The girl had flinched,
but not otherwise resisted, which was telling in itself. Her
examination had also given Jane the opportunity to check
surreptitiously for an adam's apple, and she had found none. The girl
had delicate, open features and *my, look at those eyes. I would have
remembered _you_.* "Curiouser and curiouser," she observed, releasing
the girl's chin. "And you called me by my first name too, when you
first saw me." The girl looked down again, demurely. Not to be faulted
for her manners, clearly, barring the illegal entry in the first
place. "Well, introduce yourself young lady. You have the advantage of
me and that's impolite."

"My name is Valerie," the girl replied. "Valerie Tucker."

The name meant nothing to Jane either. "Well then Valerie Valerie
Tucker, what are we to make of you?"

***

"Nothing at all, Jane," Valerie sighed. "I shouldn't have come.
There's no use in my being here." She could feel herself tearing up
again.

"Who are you really?" Jane persisted. "You clearly know me."

Valerie looked out again at the empty pool, but it was invisible
behind the reflection of the room. She could see Jane in the
reflection, but for a moment could not see herself - her black-clad,
black-haired form barely visible in the reflection at all, with the
dark bookshelves behind her.

"No-one. I'm no-one at all. I don't exist."

"I beg to differ, Valerie Tucker," Jane's voice cut in through her
melancholy. "You plainly exist. I don't make it my habit to speak to
vacant air.

Valerie wiped tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. "You
wouldn't believe the truth. No-one would."

Jane's hand on her shoulder made Valerie jump in surprise again.

"Try me," Jane said, sternly.

*Oh what the hell?* "All right then." She turned back to Jane,
speaking defiantly now. "I'm from an alternate reality and you're
right, I was your student. Here, this summer. By accident. There was a
mix-up at the station. My _old_ name, was Eugene Wallace _Tucker_."
Valerie watched Jane's reactions. The older woman seemed simply
nonplussed. "I was, to put it politely, _not_ a model student, Jane.
You needed a little sister for Charlene, and I obviously wasn't going
to be it, so you arranged for Teresa to come as well." She took a
breath. "And at the midsummer ball," Valerie's voice caught then. "My
friends had found me, and came up for the ball. And we, we saw those
hit-men. And we got Teresa out of there and the hit-men crashed when
they chased us and she's still alive," she was crying openly now.
"Teresa's still alive. I'm sorry Jane. I'm sorry I wasn't here."

Jane was visibly taken aback by the outburst. "Teresa?" she said. "Who
is Teresa?"

Valerie hiccupped at that, then shook her head. *Must've been a chaos
thing,* she thought idly. "You know, Julio?" She sighed, seeing the
startled, pained reaction from Jane to that name. "Charlene named her
Teresa?"

Jane shook her head. "No, Eugenia named her Julia."

"_Eugenia?!_" Valerie protested. "No! You _couldn't_ have!"

Jane arched her eyebrows. "Eugenia," she repeated more clearly, with a
French accent, pronouncing the name with a soft 'G' and a short second
syllable, "not 'yoo-jeen-ia'," imitating Valerie's pronunciation. "I
think Marie suggested it to Charlene first; certainly I had no hand in
it. Besides, it's a perfectly fine name."

"Jesus, as if the male version isn't curse enough," Valerie muttered.
"Whatever," she sighed, "it doesn't make any difference now. I'd
better just go."

She moved to go past Jane. Jane did not stop her, but followed at a
distance as far as the parlor doorway as Valerie headed towards the
front door.

A thought occurred to Valerie then, which stopped her in her tracks.
She turned back to Jane. "Just one thing though," she said. "Why did
_you_ get Julio here? I mean, if Eugene Wallace was a more normal
student, you wouldn't have needed an alternative little-sister for
Charlene..."

Jane sighed. "It was Mrs. Rabelais that called _me_ looking for a
place to put the boy, and I took him, against my better judgement as
it turned out. It was a favor to a friend." *So that part was going to
happen anyway,* Valerie thought.

Valerie nodded. "I'm sorry again for disturbing you, Ms Thompson," she
managed to say, and went outside.

***

Jane watched the girl through the front door window. She seemed to be
rummaging through her backpack, as if looking for something. It was
becoming quite dark now, with thick, heavy clouds closing in overhead.

The girl's story was, as she herself had admitted, unbelievable; but
she did not appear to be lying, as far as Jane was a judge, and in
such matters she considered that she was. At worst, she believed her
own story, so she could be delusional, but that in itself did not
explain how she knew what she knew. The more Jane watched her, the
more convinced she was that the girl had been trained by her, even
though she had no memory of it herself. It was a paradox, unless you
accepted the impossibility of her story. *Maybe she invented it
because she couldn't explain it any other way,* she wondered, coming
to a decision.

*Waifs and strays,* she told herself as she opened the door and went
out onto the cold steps. "Valerie Tucker," she heard herself call out.
The girl looked up, wary. Jane continued down the steps. "Do you have
a place to stay tonight?" Valerie didn't answer immediately. Jane
recognized the dilemma; the girl was caught between honesty and pride.
*That would be a 'no' then,* she decided. "You look exhausted," she
continued, now having reached the girl. "You must have come a long way
to get here." Valerie nodded at that. "Stay the night," she said
gently. "Have a proper meal, and a good night's rest, and tomorrow you
can think about what you do next. Agreed?"

Valerie nodded again, surprise plainly visible on her face. "Yes, Ms
Thompson. And thank-you."

"You've called me Jane before, and you're clearly used to it; you may
as well continue to do so. Now, go put your motorcycle in the garage
for the night, it's unlocked and the weather looks set to be foul
tonight, then come inside."

"Yes, Jane." She watched as Valerie quickly hoisted her backpack onto
her back, kicked the kickstand away and started pushing her motorcycle
towards the side of the house where the garage was concealed. *Not
needing to be told where it is,* she noted, no longer surprised.

"Oh, and Valerie," she called out, feeling slightly mischievous. The
girl stopped pushing and turned to face her, "guests in my house are
expected to behave and deport themselves at all times with grace and
decorum, maintain the highest standards of cleanliness, and to dress
in appropriately feminine attire. _That_," she indicated Valerie's
current state of dress, "will not do. I trust this will not be a
problem young lady?"

Valerie actually grinned. "Not at all, Jane," she called back. "But I
don't have a change of clothes."

"I'll put you in the lilac room," Jane suggested, with half a mind to
test the girl's claims. "You may avail yourself of whatever you find
in there."

Valerie nodded. "Charlene's old room," she confirmed, and went back to
pushing the motorcycle.

*She passed that test then.* Jane sighed. Charlene had indeed been the
last occupant, she remembered sadly. The other two student rooms had
been searched by the FBI as part of their investigation, and she
hadn't the heart to restore them to readiness after that; there seemed
little point.

As she ascended the steps back to the main door, Jane caught herself
rubbing at her eyes, holding back tears for her two dead children.
Eugenia, petite and sweet-natured, her pretty face mostly to be
glimpsed in moments looking over her sketchbook; Julia, graceful and
proud and barely-tamed. If she remembered them as perhaps more
compliant, more apt to their studies than they had been in life, she
forgave herself that small indulgence. She could not have done what
she did if she did not see the potential in her charges. Every boy
that had ever come to her had been a problem in one way or another;
that was the point. She had had no fears that these two would not have
eventually overcome themselves, had they had the chance.

*Poor Charlene as well.* Charlene had just been starting to reap the
benefits of the big-sister part of the program, and Jane thought
_finally_ she was getting through to the boy-girl's hard core of rage,
when everything had gone to hell and Charlie was taken from her at the
most sensitive time of all, and in the most brutal, public manner
imaginable. She saw him again as she had last seen him. He had shaven
his own head, roughly and in anger; his scalp bore nicks where he had
cut too close. It made his eyes look too big for his face. They were
reddened from hours of crying, but he was trying to cover it with a
show of fury. He had stripped down to his skin and refused to put on
anything unless it was to wrap himself in a sheet until Marie brought
his own clothes to him. He looked like a torture victim, Jane
remembered thinking. The sight had shaken her almost as badly as when
she had seen the bodies of the other two earlier in the evening. When
she tried to talk to him, he just screamed, and screamed. Marie could
at least get words out of him. She wondered if anyone would ever reach
that child again.

***

At the store, Mike elected to drive the shopping cart while Tuck
darted here and there through the fresh produce section.

"Whatcha doin' then?" Mike was asking every ten seconds or so, like a
bored child on a long trip. "Whatcha doin' then?"

"Shush. You'll find out."

Mike grinned. "'E's making it up as 'e goes along!"

"Am not!" Tuck stuck his tongue out at him. "Hmm, chicken," he mused
to himself checking out the fresh herbs.

"Now 'e's having a go at the birds!" Mike chimed in. Tuck hit him.

"If you don't behave, I won't take you shopping again," he warned,
like it was any kind of threat.

"Ooh, you could do that gumbo! I _know_ you got the recipe off your
aunt..." Mike stopped abruptly as the cart bumped into Tuck, who had
frozen in place.

"Do you have _any_ idea," Tuck covered, having collected himself
again, "how _long_ that takes?" Tuck shook his head to clear it. He
was _not_ going to let a stupid dream ruin _gumbo_. Some things just
had to take precedence. *Odd that Mike should suggest it today
though,* he thought. "Damn, you've lost my train of thought," he
prevaricated.

***

Valerie had blissed out under the hot shower for almost too long. Just
in time she'd noticed her fingertips starting to wrinkle, and quickly
washed her hair and got out. She wrapped a towel round herself, and
another round her hair, and went to rummage in the wardrobes.
*Sheesh,* she thought to herself, *I'd forgotten just how ultrafemme
Jane's stuff is.* Things had changed, she remembered, after she'd got
influence over Jane's credit card and got Charlene and herself some
clothes that Real People (tm) would actually wear.

She found something, presently; something that she knew would please
Jane in its femininity without being too offensive to her own eyes. A
gorgeous gown in a deep, rich blue velvet. She voluntarily opted for a
couple of extra petticoats for their warmth - the house, she had
noticed, had a _chill_ to it - and also, she admitted, because the
shape it would form would please Jane. Besides, she knew, her own slim
hips needed the assist.

Anyway, she admitted with a grin, being overdressed for any occasion
was all part of the patented J. Thompson Experience.

***

Jane heard the music as she was coming downstairs. On entering the
dining room, she saw Valerie had lifted the dust cover off the
keyboard end of the piano and was sitting there, playing something
melancholy.

"Hello Jane," the girl looked up as she entered. "I hope you don't
mind," she continued, nodding at the piano as she played.

"Not at all, Valerie. You play beautifully."

Valerie looked up at her again, smiling. "I had a good teacher." The
intense blue of her eyes struck Jane again.

"Well in that case," Jane observed, leaning over the side of the
piano, "watch your fingerwork, you're a bit sloppy there. Clearly you
haven't been practicing enough." The girl stopped playing and turned
to glare at her, managing to do so without actually moving any of her
face. After several seconds she nodded and turned back to the keyboard
and resumed playing.

"I can afford a half-hour lesson a week," she explained, still
playing. "I try to get time to practice in the week, but there's
always something coming up. Mostly I practice at night, when I can't
sleep."

"Doesn't that wake everyone up?"

"Electronic keyboard," Valerie grinned, "and headphones. A friend of
mine has a real piano. Sometimes I can practice there."

*The girl cleaned up nicely,* Jane had to admit. Valerie was wearing
her dark hair up, and it suited her. It showed off the graceful curve
of her neck and shoulders, and also managed to complement the elegant
dress she had chosen to wear. With cleaning and make-up to finish, the
scruffy and road-worn biker girl Jane had first seen turned out to be
a charming and elegant young woman after all. *In fact, quite a
beauty,* she realized. *If still a little rough round the edges.* She
let herself drift with the music for a while. It was sad, but somehow
it suited the moment. *And she said her name used to be Eugene. Well.
Another one like Caitlyn?* She opened her eyes to watch the girl
playing. *I have a feeling this one's story is nothing so
straightforward as that,* she thought to herself. Aloud she said, "I
was thinking what to do for dinner..."

"Oh, don't worry about that Jane," the girl replied, "I've got it all
in hand." At Jane's raised eyebrow Valerie grinned. "I _can_ cook you
know. And I'm told I'm _almost_ as good as Marie."

***

Tuck and Mike were in the kitchen. Mike was chopping vegetables. Tuck
supposed he should be thankful that Mike was actually trying to be
useful around the kitchen for once, rather than employing his usual
perfect timing in only turning up when the food was about to be
served. In truth he was finding it annoying. Mike seemed somehow to
have inherited Dad's ineptitude with cooking implements, through some
non-genetic vector.

"Oh give me that," he said eventually, taking the knife out of Mike's
hand and taking over the cutting before Mike lost a finger. It was
just taking too long. "Look, just..." he looked around for something
Mike could do. It was already hot in the kitchen and Tuck was feeling
flustered as it was. Dinner was going to be late. *Just a simple
roast, I thought,* he sighed, *I'm not sure I could manage a boiled
egg right now.* "Why don't you grease the oven pans for me," he
managed. "These are almost ready to go in and the oven's _plenty_
hot."

Mike shrugged and went to dig out the pans. Tuck continued, making
short work of another potato when there was a crash of cookware behind
him, making him jump. He bit down on his reaction and carried on.
"These ones?" Mike needed his attention again. He glanced round and
nodded. *Couldn't he just use his common sense?* He really wanted to,
no, _needed_ to go upstairs for a bit and...

There was another clatter as Mike dropped the oven trays onto the
kitchen table. *How can one person make so much _noise?_* "Tuck, how
do I _do_ this?" Mike whined. Tuck sighed and went to grab the oil and
a handful of paper towels and started on one of the pans. "Look," Mike
said to his back, "I can _do_ it, I just needed to..." Tuck finished
the first and started on the second. "Tuck, mano..." Tuck shrugged off
Mike's hand on his shoulder, he was trying to _concentrate_, to hold
himself together. "Tuck, you have to stop this," Mike said, his hand
pulling at Tuck's arm strongly now, and Tuck lost it.

When he tried to piece it together later Tuck realized how fast it had
happened, like a reflex, like a snake striking. At the time it had
seemed to happen excruciatingly slowly, yet unstoppably, like a
nightmare. He was vaguely aware of screaming something as he spun
around, his hand unwinding out towards Mike. Even as he moved he saw
the paring knife he had forgotten to put down still in his hand and
tried to pull back but there was too much momentum in his arm and just
not enough time. Mike leapt backwards _fast_, and so probably saved
his own life, but was still slower than he should have been. He had
_never_ expected an attack from that quarter. Not from Tuck. So the
knife still just caught his face and opened an inch-long gash just
below his left eye, on the cheekbone.

Slow to a complete stop.

Tuck watched as Mike raised a hand to his wound and looked at the
blood that had come away on his fingertips. Their eyes met, and Tuck's
heart broke to see the expression on Mike's face. *I have struck my
brother,* Tuck's mind was locked in a loop. *I have taken my brother's
blood in anger. My life is forfeit.* Numbly he was aware of the knife
falling away from his hand as he sank to his knees and watched,
helpless, as Mike took another step back and strode out of the
kitchen. Tuck's breath caught. For a few moments he actually forgot
how to breathe. Then he heard the starting roar of Mike's car and
cried out.

***

Valerie dropped the knife she had been using and gasped out in pain.
The knife clattered to the floor, just missing her feet. Her hand felt
like... it felt like she imagined dipping it in liquid nitrogen would
feel like. She almost expected it to shatter. Now it was shaking
uncontrollably. *Something's wrong,* she thought suddenly, clearly.
*Something is terribly wrong.*

"Valerie?" Jane called from where she was sitting at the kitchen
table. "Are you all right? Did you cut yourself?"

Valerie turned to her, terror passing across her face. This brought
Jane to her feet instantly, but Valerie was already moving, bringing
her hand under brighter light so they could both look at it. It
seemed... unharmed. Jane looked back at Valerie's face. She seemed to
be calming down. "It's passing," Valerie whispered.

"What? What on Earth happened?"

"I... I don't know. Suddenly my hand just..." Valerie flexed her hand,
looking at it as if she had just sprouted it. "It's gone now," she
murmured, perplexed.

"Are you sure?" Jane prodded. Valerie nodded and bent to pick up the
fallen knife. She took it to the sink to wash it quickly then went
back to where she was chopping. Just as she was about to start,
though, her hand started shaking again. It didn't hurt. It was like
she was afraid of using the knife. She willed herself to relax and
tried again, but her hand started shaking again.

"Jane," she said finally. "I'm sorry, I can't finish these."

Jane had stayed by her in case of something like this. "You go and sit
down for a bit, I'll do this then." Valerie nodded, flashed a brief,
apologetic smile and went to sit and be calm. The dinner was well in
hand so there was little else to do at this stage anyway.

***

"So, what happens now?" Valerie asked. Jane sighed and stretched out
more comfortably on the chaise-longue. They were back in the parlor
surrounded by boxes, and Jane was feeling just pleasantly stuffed from
the excellent meal Valerie had (mostly) prepared. Valerie, across the
gaming table they were using to support their drinks, was making
herself comfortable on the sofa, having kicked off her sandals and
curled her legs up by her side. She had a slight permanent flush to
her face. *Not used to the red wine,* Jane thought. *She's probably
drunker than she'll realize before she stands up. I've probably had
more than I should as well. I _think_ I'm still lucid though...*

"Well," she said aloud, "The academy is closed, of course. But once
the house sale has completed and the settlement from the lawsuits
paid, I'll have enough left over to live in the manner to which I'm
accustomed, so don't worry overmuch on my account." Valerie had seemed
concerned. "As for what I shall _do_... Naturally, Art tells me I
should move in with him at last. Marriages are not _usually_ conducted
at such a distance. This is what I am told anyway," she added with a
wry smile. She sighed again. "I don't know, can you see me as a
faculty wife?" Valerie shook her head, slowly and emphatically,
grinning.

They sat in silence for a while. It wasn't a tense or uncomfortable
silence. Just companionable. Jane sipped from her wine, noticed the
girl echoing her action, not apparently conscious of having done so.
She thought perhaps she should be concerned at being so at ease with a
girl whom until a few hours previously she had never met, but it just
did not feel like that. The truth was, she had been lonely, ever since
Marie went back to her family, and the girl _was_ good company.

"I've been thinking of England," Jane continued eventually. "I spent
some time with some old friends of mine there after... what happened.
Do you know, I could find no-one over there who had ever heard of the
'English Method'? It appears to have entirely died out. Art said maybe
I should reintroduce it, that I may well be the last practitioner."

Valerie coughed meaningfully. "Erm, you should try a web search," she
replied, stifling a giggle.

"Oh?"

"Oh, um..." Valerie seemed embarrassed. "Just that, er, there seem to
be _plenty_ of practitioners, just..." She had fallen silent.

"Just what, Valerie?"

"Er, well, I don't think anyone else uses it for _actual_ juvenile
reform, er, if you see what I mean."

Slowly, in time with her rising color, Jane did. "Well," she mastered
herself, "That tells me all I need to know about your little internet,
doesn't it." She _nearly_ harrumphed, but just managed to control
herself. Valerie was grinning, the blasted child. "And stop looking so
_knowing_, it's unbecoming in a young lady."

"Sorry Jane." Jane looked away, at the mirrored darkness of the french
windows, to spare Valerie the impossible task of actually obeying her.

"It _works_. Worked," she amended sadly, and took another sip of her
wine.

"I know," Valerie said gently. "I saw it work, or I'd never have
believed it. I mean, it even worked on _me_, after a fashion."

"There's this lovely house," she was remembering, "an Elizabethan
manor, set in the Cotswold hills just about half an hour's drive
from... Cheltenham." She must be drunk, she realized, if she almost
mispronounced it again. It had been impressed upon her by her hosts,
politely, yet at some length, how grating it was to hear Americans
drawl out the last syllable. She knew, from direct comparison as the
town seemed to fill up with her compatriots during the summer months,
that she had not been so bad an offender in that regard to begin with.
Maybe her hosts had just needed to vent. "And what _about_ you?" she
directed at Valerie, back in the present. "What happened to you?" She
thought maybe Valerie was drunk enough to tell it now, and hoped she
wasn't too smashed herself to remember or not to ask stupid questions.
Or cope, if she accidentally pushed a bad button.

"Oh, you know, being I.S. sucks..."

"I.S.?"

Valerie sighed. "Intersexed. Um, like having both male and female..."
she waved vaguely at her body.

"Ah," Jane thought. "Like a hermaphrodite?"

Valerie closed her eyes and sighed. "Well, that's what everyone
immediately thinks of course, like there aren't _loads_ of I.S.
conditions out there. And then it's 'herm' this and 'hey hermie' that
and before you know it the label's stuck..." Jane watched as Valerie
thumped her own thigh in frustration. "And these are people who'd
_never_ call a black man a nigger, you know? So, anyway, there I was,
growing up a normal guy, or so I thought. Okay, I was _small_ for my
age; okay, I was _undeveloped_, and it's not like I wasn't already
getting the sh... getting grief for _that_, and then I _do_ finally
start developing and it's the other way. I'm growing _breasts_. And
other stuff. So then, in the middle of this my Mom and Dad think it
would be a _great_ idea to send me to a boot camp to make a man of
me." She gave Jane a _very_ old-fashioned look. "And then there was
the mix-up and I thought they'd sent me here and you thought I was the
_other_ Eugene and, well." She shrugged. "What my parents didn't know
at the time, and neither did you of course, was that by then I'd been
part-timing as Valerie for, like, half a year already. Let's not even
go into why I was doing it. It's not like I could have given you a
straight answer at the time. But suddenly here I was, _having_ to be
Valerie twenty-four-seven, thinking my parents had sent me here
_deliberately_, as if they knew or something, or as if they thought it
would get it out of my system maybe..." Valerie sighed deeply. "And
that's what you had land on your doorstep."

***

"Charlene - _my_ Charlene - found a very nice boy in town, and I
happen to know they had some fun times together."

"Charlene? Never!"

"Uh-huh. Can't honestly say I didn't have anything to do with it
either," Valerie admitted. "Though in my defense, I didn't _know_.
Call me little miss unobservant..."

"Even so, Valerie!"

Valerie shrugged. "No harm came of it. Shar just needed to be able to
relate _normally_. All this twenty-four-seven debutante stuff just
drove her nuts."

"And you could be just a normal girl, and show her how to be as well?"

"Yeah, basically. Especially after we got to hit the mall with your
credit card," she grinned at Jane's horrified expression, "and get
some clothes _real_ girls wear, so we didn't stand out like we were
Amish or something."

"That's - fascinating," Jane admitted. Valerie recognized that
scheming look.

***

Valerie shrugged. Things were definitely getting a bit fuzzy round the
edges. She frowned in concentration. "No more bullshit," she replied.
"Tha's what I got from you, pardonmyfrench. Couldn't bullshit myself
any more. You, you, you." She refocused. "Crutches, you know, that er,
er, that we use to hold up who we think we are. You take 'em away and
we gotta stand anyway. Th'real person gotta stand. Am I making sense
at all?"

"You're mixing metaphors, dear," Jane murmured hazily.

"'S awright, I suck at English anyway." She tried to sit upright. "I'm
drunk," she said, carefully.

"So'm I," Jane sounded happy, Valerie thought. Dreamy.

"But I thought, I thought I was immune," Valerie continued. "I thought
I was immune. Not's if wearing girl clothes wuz gonna faze _me_,
y'know? Was jus' a game. But I get home an', an', I din' wanna
bullshit any more y'know? Cudn' do it." She drained the last of her
glass and looked at it like it had betrayed her. "Got any more of this
stuff?" she asked.

Jane raised the bottle. Empty. Carefully she put it down again,
reached under the chaise-longue and brought up both an untouched
bottle and a smug look. Valerie grinned. "Thusly I demonstrate the
advantage of forward planning," Jane enunciated as Valerie giggled and
passed her the corkscrew.

"You sure it's a good idea Jane?"

"Frankly my dear," Jane declaimed, "I don't _give_ a damn!"

"For tomorrow," Valerie acted back, badly, "is another day. An' it's
gonna hurt." _POP!_ Went the cork. Valerie shrugged and moved to hand
her glass forwards for replenishment. As she did so her bottom slid
off the front of the sofa and she landed hard on the floor. She sat
for a moment, puzzled. "Ow?" she said eventually, then saw Jane,
across from her, pointing and laughing out loud. "Hey," she protested,
"it's not funny."

Jane tried to still her laughter. "Yes it is," she managed,
eventually.

"No, it's not," Valerie retorted, pouting. "S'pose it is," she
admitted with a small giggle. "Just I get _enough_ people laughing at
me back home." She sighed, and held out her glass. Jane filled it.

"Who laughs at you?" Jane asked, serious now.

"Oh," she shrugged, deciding to settle on the floor where she had come
to rest. "You know. People. School." Jane nodded.

"Did your parents consider moving to another city? Or at least so you
could go to a different school where no-one would know?"

Valerie shook her head emphatically. It made her dizzy, so she
stopped. "Would mean moving away from Mike. Can't do that."

"Who's Mike? Your boyfriend?" Valerie looked at her for a long moment,
amazed, then burst out into a fit of giggles. "It was a fair
question!" Jane protested.

"No, Not my boyfriend." She took a sip of the wine. "We're brothers.
Blood brothers. Brother'n'sister anyway. Whatever." She sighed. "I
miss him," she told her glass. "He'd know what to do."

"It's just growing up, Valerie," Jane tried to explain. "People
change. They move apart, find new friends..." Valerie shook her head,
more gently this time.

"Not us." Into the silence, "not us." She took another sip. "My coun'
coun' er... Other-me. The one from this world. Didn't come here. God
he's so full of shit. I mean, um, I don't mean that in a bad way. Just
he's... He's still trying to keep everyone happy, what he thinks'll
make people happy. Will make 'em like him more. It's _pathetic!_" She
surprised herself by the sudden surge of revulsion. "It must be
driving him insane. No, it is. You can see it in his eyes." She shook
her head again. "He's so afraid, Jane, he won't even look at what he's
afraid of. He's afraid he'll lose Mike. He's so afraid of it he'll
live a lie the rest of his life to avoid it. He doesn't see. He
doesn't see, if he loses himself, if he won't be himself, he'll lose
Mike for sure. There can only be truth between us. Only truth. Or we
die. He'll die."

Valerie noticed as she spoke that she had pulled her knees up to her
chest and was digging her nails into her shins. She stopped herself as
soon as she saw she was doing it, before she put a run in the
stockings she was wearing. *We're in the witching hour,* she realized
suddenly. *And I'm too drunk to pay proper attention.* She took in a
few deep breaths, as if that would help her become sober. Instead she
felt slightly sick.

"This place is fading," Jane said into the long silence. "It's dying.
If I don't get out, so will I, but I've just not been able to bring
myself to do it. Those poor children, how could I leave them alone
here?"

She was unable to continue. Valerie got to her knees and shuffled
round to the side of the chaise-longue to take Jane's hand and pull
her back out of her mourning reverie. "Oh listen to me babbling," Jane
scolded herself, rubbing at her eyes with her spare hand, "like some
sentimental old woman. Anyone would think the house is haunted." She
laughed nervously, glancing up into the shadows near the ceiling.

"Is it?"

"Of course not, don't be silly. There's no such thing as ghosts." She
sighed. "It's just that being alone here sometimes..." She trailed
off.

"There's no such thing as dimension leaping either," Valerie reminded
her. "What happened?" She asked gently. "I read the news reports,
that's all."

"At the midsummer ball," Jane started. "Oh Valerie it was horrible. I
should never have taken Julia to it; it was too soon really, but
Eugenia insisted, and promised they'd stay together the whole time.

"Those two were inseparable," she smiled in remembrance. "I could not
have wished for a stronger bond, they did _everything_ together. In
fact their being so close tended to leave Charlene somewhat isolated,
but I can't say she didn't at least partially bring that upon
herself."

"Yeah," Valerie agreed. "She could be a bit..."

"Sharp?"

"I was going to say psychotic. At first."

"She _was_ getting beyond that _anger_ she had - rather than just
thinking she was hiding it from me. I'm sure of it."

"Anyway..." Valerie prodded.

"Anyway. It was a lovely evening. All three of them were gorgeous and
impeccable of course, but Eugenia was the belle of the ball. There was
no question of it. She was so beautiful, and I made her leave that
damned sketchbook of hers behind for once so she couldn't hide behind
that all evening. All the young men wanted to dance with her, but she
wouldn't, unless I was there, or Charlene, to look after Julia. Even
then she would always come straight back and they'd go off into a
huddle like any pair of schoolgirls might. You say Eugene Wallace went
to the camp in your place?" Jane asked suddenly, distracted.

"Gene, yeah. I only met him that one time, at that ball. That's when
we figured out what had happened."

"How did he seem to you?"

Valerie shrugged. "Nice enough guy I guess. Bewildered if anything."
She laughed. "A'cours, some of that might have been because I pounced
on him at that dance, he was there for good behavior or something, and
I made him come over and meet all my girl friends, and Mike, and you
come to think of it... and I think you almost threw up when you saw
his I.D."

Jane was silent for a short while. "I suddenly realized I'd lost track
of them," she continued eventually. "I couldn't find them anywhere. I
told myself not to worry, that they had probably just gone to the
restroom, but - I don't know. Something _felt_ wrong. They'd been gone
too long. And then - then there was a commotion by the door..." Jane
had frozen in that moment of dread. Valerie took her hand up again and
squeezed. "The music stopped," Jane continued haltingly. "Someone was
yelling for someone to call the police." Jane froze again. "I knew,"
she whispered at last. "I just knew something terrible had happened. I
couldn't reach them. Everyone was crowding round, I couldn't reach
them." She swallowed. "Bob and his cadets took charge, until the
police arrived. Then I could see them.

"They looked..." Jane's face was filled with the moment. "They looked
like they were just sleeping. They looked so peaceful. Eugenia was on
Julia's shoulder just so, like they were sleeping, as if Julia might
wake up any moment and ask what all the fuss was about. But the blood
- there was a _slick_ of blood - in the police lights..."

Jane could say no more. She forced herself to take a breath, angrily
rubbing at her eyes.

Valerie felt a sudden adrenaline-surge of anger. She bit down on it
for Jane's sake. "Jane," Valerie said again softly, still holding
Jane's other hand, "who are you being strong for?" Jane blinked at
her, uncomprehending. Valerie tried a tack that had worked before.
"Jane. There's no-one else here. No-one else will see you."

A single tear slipped the blockade, fell down Jane's cheek. "I am not
accustomed to indulge in emotional outbur..." she began, trying to
keep her voice straight, but her throat blocked up.

"You've been holding this in half a year?" Valerie asked.

"You sound like Dia - Art," she corrected herself. "He kept saying I
had to allow myself to grieve or somesuch nonsense. He didn't seem to
understand. The FBI - the press - the lawsuits..." Jane got out. "I
couldn't let myself go - I had to..."

"He was right though."

"Oh rubbish, I've been grieving for them _every single day!_"

"No you haven't," Valerie insisted. "You haven't allowed yourself to,
have you."

Jane looked at her long in the silence. "I was not invited to the
funerals," she said quietly. "It was made clear to me my presence
would not be welcome."

"Oh Jane." Valerie clambered up to sit with her on the chaise-longue.
Gently, but firmly, she took the older woman's shoulders and pulled
her into an embrace.

"What are you doing?" Jane protested, but she did not pull away.

"Shh," Valerie admonished her. "You need to do this." Jane's shoulders
were so _tense,_ Valerie realized.

"Do what?" Jane demanded. And yet, she did not resist, she did not
pull away.

"You're all..." Val tried to explain with a wringing of her hands,
"you're all knotted up inside. Can't you feel it?" She squeezed at
Jane's hardened shoulders again to demonstrate. "You have to let go."

"Let go? Let go of what exactly?" She sounded irritable. "Good Lord,
the last thing I need is to hear platitudes from a - a _child_. What
is this modern obsession with _emoting_ all over the place." Valerie
ignored her words and held on. "How can someone forget how to cry?"
Jane whispered eventually.

In answer Valerie got up and walked behind the chaise-longue,
directing Jane to sit up properly. She began to massage Jane's neck.
"What...?" Jane began, but Valerie shushed her and worked on. "Where
did you learn to do this?" Jane asked after a while.

"That's not important," Valerie answered, and worked on. Jane was more
tense than anyone to whom she had yet given a massage, and she really
had to work at it.

"Nnnnghyah!" Jane exclaimed suddenly after a long while, by far the
least refined noise Valerie had ever heard her make, just as there was
a loud CRACK from the tendon under Valerie's hand. "Oh _God!_ Are you
sure you know what you're doing?"

"Yes," Valerie replied. Jane was already sitting straighter, more
naturally upright rather than forced ramrod-straightness. Now she
rocked gently and easily in time with Valerie's kneading of her neck
and shoulders, and breathed more easily.

"Oh God," Jane was saying. "I hadn't realized..."

"Shush."

"Oh God..." *Nearly there,* thought Valerie, continuing to work, her
hands tiring now, just keeping up the rhythm, to soothe and to relax.
Jane sighed deeply and her breath caught. *Drawing it out,* Valerie
thought to herself, *Drawing out the poison now.*

"Let them go now," Valerie commanded.

With a final "Oh," almost as of surprise, the tears came.

***

Valerie held Jane for a long while as the older woman wept at last.
Even now, Jane's tears came with hardly a sound, as if she still
feared to be discovered, but her body quaked and shivered with her
silent cries, and the flood, once started, would not be stopped.
Valerie rocked her gently as she wept, and looked up over Jane's
shoulder at the shadows in the corners of the room. They were, she
decided, only shadows.

***

"Why you?" Jane asked suddenly, once she had enough control of her
voice to complete a sentence. She did not let go of Valerie. "Why are
you the one to reach me? Why not Art? Why not Kenneth, or Darryl or -
anyone else? Why not Art?"

Valerie had no answer for her, so just held her.

"It doesn't make sense," Jane was continuing. "I wasn't abandoned
here, left to myself, in case you thought otherwise. There was a - a
_stream_ of visitors; and I know they came wanting to help, but all I
wanted was for them to leave me alone. _I_ wanted that. I wanted to be
alone."

"With them," Valerie completed. Jane nodded into her shoulder.

"Art could see it of course. He could see what was going on, and so
could I. It just - knowing that didn't seem to make a difference. I
couldn't help it. I couldn't stop. Art couldn't reach me. Why couldn't
he reach me? Why could you?"

Valerie shrugged. "Perhaps you just had to be ready," she hazarded.

Jane sighed deeply. "'If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it be not to
come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come. The
readiness is all.'" Finally she extricated herself from Valerie's
embrace and leaned back. She watched Valerie, simply watched her, for
a long time, even after Valerie blushed and looked down from that
gaze. Yet their hands remained linked. "You knew them," Jane said
softly. "No-one who tried to help me knew them."

"Didn't Kenneth come to visit, earlier in the summer?" Valerie
wondered. Jane shook her head. "Odd. He did, when I was here."

"No-one. Except Marie, and she had left already. She went back to her
family in France. There was no-one else to remember them as I did."

I never knew Ge - Eugenia," Valerie replied. "And I don't know how
different the others would have been."

"It's enough." Jane sighed. "You know, you look a little like her."

"Who? Eugenia?"

Jane nodded. "Just a little."

"Enough to pick me out on a railway station?" Valerie grinned.

***

"You must go back," Jane said quietly.

"What?"

"It sounds to me like your counterpart needs your help. You must go
back and help."

Valerie looked at her, desperately. "I can't go back there, Jane! What
if I'm _seen_ by someone I know?"

"Valerie," Jane put an edge into her voice. "I chose to take your
story at face value, and I have never seen you before today. Do you
not think your friends would do the same? They will know you; they
would have to accept you."

"You don't read much science fiction, do you?" Valerie asked
rhetorically.

"What does..."

"All _kinds_ of possible repercussions, depending on which model, or
models, of the multiverse is-are correct, and I _don't_ want to be
experimenting on my own existence!"

Jane thought for several moments, then said, "Well, you met me; did
that seem to do anything?"

"I really don't want to freak them out. I think it's best that I just
get clear of there."

"Valerie," Jane repeated. "_Taking_ your story at face value - have
you considered it possible that your presence here is not an
accident?"

"Whaddya mean?"

"I beg your pardon? Where did you learn to speak like that?"

"Ol' Brooklyn," Valerie snapped back in a perfect accent, and grinned.
"I'm sorry Jane," she then relented, "could you please elucidate?" she
asked as sweetly as she could, proud of herself for managing to
pronounce the word after so much wine. It had taken some effort of
concentration.

"Hmm." Jane's approval was grudging. "What I _mean_ is that perhaps
you did not merely slip between dimensions at random. Perhaps you were
_brought_. For a purpose."

Valerie frowned at that. "You mean someone or something's fu - messing
with me."

"It also holds out the possibility that if you _fulfil_ that purpose,
you may be sent home."

"And you think helping my - the other me is it?"

"It's a place to start."

Valerie sighed, exasperated. "You don't think that if I was brought
here, that they'd have left some kind of _message_ to tell me what I
was supposed to do? I don't like this," she complained. "I don't like
being treated like some kind of-of-of meat puppet or something. I have
my _own_ life!"

"Not a puppet," Jane replied. "Not controlled. Maybe - maybe set at a
crossroads and unleashed. A roll of the dice."

"I don't understand."

"Well, perhaps that's for the best," Jane grinned. Valerie scowled at
her in return. "Go back," Jane instructed her. "Your counterpart needs
you, just as I needed you."

"And if I do, and _supposing_ I can be of any use, and I'm _still_
stuck here?"

"You worry about that _then_, but if it'll help you worry less, you'll
always be welcome to come back here afterwards. You will always have a
home here."

"Here?"

"If your story is true," Jane replied, "and I do not find myself
doubting it any more, then you are homeless, are you not?" Valerie
nodded. She hadn't seen it that way before. "Worse than that," Jane
continued, "you lack any valid identification, or official identity of
any kind, am I correct?" Valerie could only nod again. "I may be able
to do something about that as well. I'm _owed_ a few favors," she
added darkly.

"Jane, you don't have to do this!" Valerie protested.

"I want to," Jane responded. "It feels right. It's quite possibly the
first time I've felt right about something for months." She reached
out and took up Valerie's hand again. "I know you think yourself all
grown up, dear, but you _are_ still a child really. It's not fair for
you to be alone in the world."

"Life isn't fair, Jane. I could manage."

"I'm sure you could, but you shouldn't have to. Sometimes we get a
chance to make life a little fairer, don't we? I could probably
arrange to formally adopt you. You'd have security then."

"Jane..." Valerie was almost rendered speechless. It was a _huge_
offer Jane was making. "Look, it's way late," Valerie observed. "I
don't think either of us are thinking straight any more. I'm _really_
tired, and you must be too. It's not like you to be so rash, Jane."

Jane gave her a 'don't you dare patronize me' look, but Valerie did
not back down. "Yes," Jane admitted eventually, "I suppose I am being
rash."

"I mean, you really don't know me very well," Valerie continued. "I
mean, this is me on best behavior, right? This is
me-the-Thompson-Academy-graduate. There's no _way_ I'd be able to keep
this up if it was for _good_. Even if I wanted to." She grinned, just
wide and wild enough to make Jane flinch. "I'm loud, I'm geeky, I make
strange friends you probably wouldn't approve of, we get up to stuff
you're gonna approve of even less, I spend _way_ too much time with my
head inside a computer - sometimes literally," *and sometimes not one
that entirely belongs to me,* she admitted privately, "or up to my
shoulders in bike parts and motor oil." Jane shrugged. "Look, when I
was here in the summer, it was a battle of wills between us almost the
_whole_ time."

"But you benefited by it, did you not?" Jane countered. "You grew by
it?"

"Yeah, I _also_ knew I was getting out, and all I had to do was hang
in there and I'd be getting a laptop out of it."

"I wouldn't expect you to behave like one of my students," Jane
protested.

"Ah, but could you help it?" Valerie grinned. "Especially when you
start up the Academy again, wherever you do that."

"I have no such plans."

Valerie looked at her. "You will," she said simply, and grinned again.

***
---

*Charlene's bed,* Valerie thought fuzzily as she woke. *Mmm, where's
Charlene?* Then the last half-year caught up with her, followed
rapidly by the night before. She made a dash for the bathroom.

She was a long time sitting there, realizing just how dehydrated she
was. Her head hurt. The more she thought about it the more conscious
of it she became. It felt like someone had been taking practice swings
at her skull with a baseball bat. She flushed and made straight for
the shower. It wasn't the bliss she had been hoping for, the noise of
the water being too intrusive, her skin feeling too tender, so she
made it a quick one and got out, wrapped herself in a towel and went
back into the bedroom to open the thick curtains.

Sunlight - far _far_ too much sunlight - blasted her retinas. She
scrunched her eyes tightly shut, and that hurt too, and propelled
herself away from the window, wailing. She made it to the bed and
groped for her backpack. "Ware, ware, the evil Daystar," she whimpered
as she searched, "it burns us! It burns us!" Blindly she rummaged
around until she found her Ray-Bans and put them on, then slumped
face-down on the bed in relief. "Oh God," she muttered and just lay
still for a moment while the world spun down. "I am _never_ doing that
again," she vowed into the quilt, hoping she wasn't going to throw up.
*No-one told me wine could do _that_,* she mourned. *How much did we
have anyway?* She reckoned, being an amount counted in bottles rather
than glasses, it was probably far too much. *Man, but Jane can put it
away! Whodathunkit?*

Oddly, she hadn't felt that drunk when she went to bed, probably
because of the directions their conversation had taken. She replayed
some of it back, lying there. *Wow.*

After a while she decided her stomach was secure, and went in search
of some underwear. Her own clothes were still in a dirty pile; she had
meant to ask Jane about washing them last night but had forgotten.
Maybe she could hand-wash them this morning. In the meantime... She
looked in the underwear drawer and sighed, as she had the previous
evening. *Oh we do _both_ kinds, frilly _and_ lacy.* And all in a wide
selection of whites _and_ pastels too. Great. She looked over at her
own black women's sports briefs and almost considered it. *_Not_ until
they're washed,* she affirmed. *Jane would have a fit if she saw those
anyway...* Not that she was planning to show off her choice of
panties. She decided lacy was less offensive than frilly and grabbed a
pair.

As she stood to fasten the bra she'd found, she wandered to the window
again and peered out. Some, at least, of the excess light was
explained. It had snowed in the night, and a thick white carpet
covered the grounds as far as the bordering line of trees, their own
branches hanging low under the weight of snow. Now the sun was shining
and everything was sharp and crystalline and _way_ too bright.
*Overactive albedo,* she decided with a grin and turned away. It was
hurting her eyes even through the sunglasses. She headed for the dark
comfort of the wardrobes.

***

Coming out of the bedroom Valerie looked across the hall at the two
doors opposite, one of them led into her old room. She stepped across
the hall and tried the door. It was unlocked.

The room was cold and empty. The bedding had been removed, and the
various other laces and fripperies stripped away, leaving just the
bare furniture, standing naked against the pink wallpaper. Her breath
clouded in front of her face, and goosebumps raised up suddenly on her
bare forearms.

She fled the room, took shelter back in Charlene's room, slamming the
door and breathing hard. *Shit,* she thought. *What am I _on?_*

*It was just cold,* she told herself. *The heating's off in that room,
that's all.*

"Shit," she said aloud, and threw open the door and strode back across
the hall and back into her old room.

"No," she told the room. "Just no. _Don't_ start." She wasn't sure who
she was talking to, but she felt better for saying it, as she walked
across to the window to look out at a scene that would have been
familiar had it not been for the snow everywhere. She turned her back
to it and looked again at the room. It was, she decided, just a room
after all.

She could never afterwards entirely explain why she did what she did
next, except that she had some hunch, some feeling that there was
something to be found. First she went to the wardrobe nearest the
window and looked inside. It was empty. Carefully, quietly, she
wiggled the wardrobe out away from the wall slightly. It was a _lot_
lighter when empty, she noted without surprise. There was the
forgotten RJ11 port, but nothing else, nothing taped to the back. She
checked the other wardrobes in like manner, also finding nothing. The
bedside chest of drawers was next. She checked the undersides of the
empty drawers, and inside the cabinet itself. Nothing. *Why am I even
doing this?* She wondered, looking finally at the bed itself. Sighing,
she got down to the floor by the bed and reached under to feel around
the underside fabric.

Her heart nearly stopped when her fingers found a gash in the
material. *Not in exactly the same place,* she told herself. *Gene
just had the same idea. Don't panic girl, just 'cause you found what
you were looking for.*

Gingerly she reached in through the gash and groped around until the
backs of her fingers brushed against something substantial. She
actually giggled with pent-up nervousness. She twisted so she could
get a grip on it and carefully pulled it out.

'It' turned out to be a large, thick artist's sketchbook, its cover
spotted with abstract doodles and an ornate-industrial, Giger-esque
'EFW' splashed across under the brand logo. "Oh my God," she gasped in
excitement, a moment before clutching it to her chest and breakdancing
to her feet. Part of her knew she'd crumpled the dress she was wearing
but she didn't care. Even her hangover retreated to a mere thumping in
the back of her head. Without having thought about it, she found
herself kneeling on the bed, the sketchbook in front of her, still
closed. *Do I look at it?* She wondered. *Do I give it to Jane? Do I
just hide it away again?* After all, she reasoned, it was _clearly_
meant to be private.

On the other hand... She fingered the sketchbook's cover. On the other
hand, there was no other remaining record.

And she was _really_ curious now.

She turned over the front cover.

*Well hey, Gene, you could really draw.*

***

The smell was maddening. Jane made her way carefully down the stairs
towards the kitchen. *That girl can't _possibly_ be cooking a
breakfast,* she thought to herself. The evidence of her nose, and now
as she approached her _ears_ too, contradicted her.

The house seemed somehow lighter today, she thought. It had somehow
lost some of its chill as well, despite the sudden cold snap outside.
"What a difference a day makes," she sang softly to herself. *And
company too,* she added privately. *I hadn't realized how lonely I had
become. Perhaps the house misses the young people too.*

She had lain in bed much longer than was her usual habit, partly
regretting the quantity of wine consumed, but mostly thinking about
the offer she had made to her strange guest the previous night. Logic
centers were firing off warning flares, but in the sober morning -
with a clear, if pounding, head - it still _felt_ unaccountably right.
*The offer stands,* she had decided. The smell of a cooking breakfast
did _nothing_ to dissuade her.

Jane stopped on the threshold of the kitchen. There was Valerie,
already nicely dressed and presentable, and aproned, chopping
mushrooms while the sausages sizzled. Bacon was ready to go on, she
noticed, and the oven was keeping warm some things that had already
been done.

Valerie turned at that point, and Jane noticed she appeared to be
wearing dark sunglasses. Not especially feminine ones, she noted,
thinking she might have seen them on a movie poster, but all things
considered, she decided to let it pass.

"Oh, good morning," Valerie greeted her, when she turned. She sounded
a little _delicate_, she thought. "I hope you don't mind, only I heard
this was good for a hangover." She smiled, "something about replacing
proteins and lipids or something. Sounds like a good excuse to me
anyway," she explained with a grin. Jane nodded assent. She was
feeling decidedly delicate herself, and the food _did_ smell gorgeous.
"I've put in a load of washing too," Valerie continued. "My stuff
needed doing, and I just put it in with what was in the basket." Jane
just nodded again. "Jane," she added diffidently, "I went into my old
- into Eugenia's room this morning, I hope you don't mind. I - uh, I
found something."

"That room was searched by the police. There shouldn't be anything
left in there," Jane said. In reply, Valerie just pointed at the
kitchen table. Jane dashed in and picked up the sketchbook. "Where was
it?"

Valerie grinned. "When I was here I had reason to hide my stuff away.
Same place," she explained, without actually giving it away, Jane
noted, deciding not to pursue it just yet. "Jane, there's _really_
private stuff in there. Seriously private. Stuff Eugenia did _not_
want you to see while she was here." Jane nodded, unconsciously
hugging the sketchbook to her breast. "I just figured - you know."

"Yes, Valerie, I understand. You've looked through it then?" Valerie
nodded. Jane let out a deep sigh. "Oh, Valerie this is - all her
paintings were taken away. I knew she kept this, it was a trial
sometimes getting her out from behind it; but we couldn't find it,
afterwards."

"That's probably just as well. Keep it safe. I got a feeling Gene's
folks wouldn't appreciate it anyway," Valerie understated.

Jane nodded again. "This is Eugenia. Not the son they want to
remember." *This is for _me._* She held it away to look at the cover.
"Thank you, Valerie." She paused, unaccustomed to asking for advice.
"Do you think I should look at it?"

Valerie thought about it, then nodded. "Yeah. I think it'll help. Just
don't freak. I warned, you, okay?"

Jane turned her stern look on Valerie. "I do not 'freak,'" she stated,
dripping sarcasm over the last word. "Breakfast is nearly ready, is it
not?"

"Yeah, uh, yes."

Jane put the sketchbook back on the kitchen table, with some
difficulty. "I'll go and set the table," she said, and escaped back
into the dining room to regain her composure.

***

"Stupid, _stupid_ people," Jane muttered, looking again at the cover
of the sketchbook. They had finished most of the breakfast and Jane,
unable to restrain herself any longer, had gone back to the kitchen to
fetch the book.

"Who?" Valerie had moved around to sit next to her.

"Eugene's parents. How was the boy to learn to listen to people? They
had clearly never listened to a word he said in his entire life. He
was to go into stockbroking like them, and that was the end of it. Not
a word of encouragement for the one thing he could do well that gave
him pleasure. And he _could_ do it well. There was such _talent_
there, just waiting for a chance." Jane sighed and turned over the
front cover. The first sketches seemed to be of the train journey -
faces on the train, views of the New England countryside; Valerie had
irrationally half-expected to see herself sketched there. In-between
everything, fantasy pictures abounded. Guns, half-naked female
figures, anime-style, swords, explosions, castles and fortresses. "I
don't know what they thought they were doing sending him to me.
Discipline, I suppose. They wanted to get him back better-behaved,
more compliant than before."

"Completely missing the point," Valerie observed. Jane nodded.

"Discipline is the start of what I do, not the end. You cannot have
true self-control without self-knowledge; only repression and
frustration. If discipline was all they wanted they _should_ have sent
him to that boot camp. Oh my!" Jane had turned a page and was looking
at the first of the caricatures of herself. She broke into an
unexpected grin. "Is _that_ what the new students thought of me?"

"Pretty much," Valerie admitted. Those sketches were - unkind would be
a diplomatic word. Valerie especially liked the one with Jane, in
dominatrix gear, dead at the feet of a petticoated boy with spiky hair
and an implausibly large gun. She decided she _liked_ Gene's sense of
humor. There were nice sketches of Charlene amongst them, though
neutral, as if Gene hadn't figured out what to think of her yet.

Jane shrugged, still grinning. "It was working then," she quipped,
self-satisfied. "No, the major part of it was always to take them out
of themselves for a short while, to show them, in the most dramatic
way possible without _harming_ them, that there are other ways they
could be; different ways to relate to people." She continued to turn
pages slowly as she talked. "In a way, to give them the freedom to
explore aspects of their character that had hitherto been neglected.
Ahh, I remember that." Her own smile reflected that on the page. "That
was a good day. These are lovely of Charlene, don't you think?"

They were. Valerie had guessed, on first viewing, that by this time
Jane had discovered Eugenia's hidden talent and was employing her own
special abilities in bringing it forth, presumably with access to some
skilled tutelage. There was a visible leap forward in skill and,
frankly, ambition, with more complex poses being assayed on every
page. One in particular, of Charlene reading by the poolside, was so
familiar to Valerie she had gasped aloud on seeing it first.

It was from about that point as well that the cartoon strip first
appeared, depicting little scenes as seen by Eugenia - often starting
ordinarily enough, a trip to Miss Fransom's, a visit from Edith White,
and descending, or ascending, into fantasy. Eugenia's imagination was
certainly present and correct.

Valerie stopped Jane's hand to look again at a self-portrait of
Eugenia. The face had that intense, searching look commonplace in
self-portraits, coming as it does from the artist _really_ looking at
themselves. "She really was exceptionally beautiful," Jane murmured.

Jane looked on in silence for a while, turning pages every few
seconds. Valerie stayed close by Jane's side as the older woman became
increasingly distressed as Julio - then Julia - started appearing in
the sketches. There was hardly any outward sign, of course, but if one
knew Jane, one could tell. "You don't have to do this now," Valerie
offered.

"Yes I do," Jane replied, keeping her voice even. She gave Valerie a
brittle smile. "It's helping, Valerie." Valerie took one of Jane's
hands, encountering no resistance as she did so. With her spare hand
Jane continued to turn pages. "Oh I _see!_" Jane exclaimed suddenly.
"Oh well that _does_ explain a few things."

Pictures of Julia were everywhere, from tiny doodles, cartoons of her
early days, larger sketches and, suddenly, a detailed full-page
portrait drawing. The cartoons depicted, unequivocally, a budding
romance between Julia and Eugenia. It was not always obvious where
Eugenia's witty observations gave over to wishful fantasies - the
least that could be said was that Eugenia was _deeply_ taken with
Julia, and if even a fraction of the scenes depicted occurred in fact,
it was clearly reciprocated. Julia's image seemed taller, more
self-assured, than Valerie's memory of Teresa. *Being adored would do
that,* she reckoned, *and it's clear she was.*

As for Eugenia - Jane paused again over a picture of the two of them
in the stables. Julia was dressed for riding, but Eugenia was naked.

The naked body was female. *_Confused_ little bunny,* Valerie had
thought when she'd first seen that. Now she watched Jane's reaction
carefully.

"Hmm," was all Jane said. But she'd taken a while to say it.

"You're not shocked then?" Valerie was surprised.

"I do not shock that easily, Valerie," Jane replied. "Eugenia would
not have been the first of my charges to develop a schoolgirl
infatuation for a fellow student."

"It's a bit _more_ than an infatuation, don't you think?"

"Oh I assure you, they can be _quite_ intense." Jane turned the page
and came across the birthday card from Julia that Valerie had seen
earlier. It had been slipped between a pair of pages depicting a
version of Jane's mansion morphed into a fanciful Arabian palace, with
Julia at a high balcony window. The card had been hand-made, in part
from a photograph of Eugenia sitting in the garden with her
sketchbook, snapped unawares, apparently, as she gazed dreamily off
into space. Inside, Julia's scratchy handwriting spelled out: "I dream
of Genie," and a crude drawing of a genie-lamp, and below that "My 3
wishes are..."

Jane closed the card and wordlessly placed it back where she found it.
"I think I see your point," she said at length.

"You okay with this?"

Jane smiled, wryly. "If I'd known at the time, I would have had to
take some action; what action I don't know, but being _in loco
parentis_ this would not be something I could lightly ignore,
_regardless_," she stressed, "of their respective sexes. Now?" She
shrugged, "what difference does it make now? We two are the only ones
that know about this."

"Possibly Charlie," Valerie added.

"If so, he held his tongue. His family's lawyers would have _loved_ to
have dug up this little gem." She sighed. "If he knew, and kept quiet,
it was for their sakes," she nodded at the sketchbook, "not mine. As
for what _exactly_ those two got up to, whether in fact Julia even
_knew_ about Eugene," she shrugged again, "it would be puerile to
speculate."

"Guess so," Valerie agreed. "We'd never be able to separate it all
from Eugenia's fantasies anyway," she added, grinning.

"Precisely. And why should we try? I would far rather know her heart
than waste time being forensic about mere facts." She lingered over
the drawings on the following pages. "It's really quite beautiful,"
she mused.

"They really did love each other," Valerie offered.

"Maybe."

Valerie saw that Jane had reached the last page, with its hastily
drawn sketches of all three of them in their midsummer ballgowns, and
Jane too. Gently she put her hand over Jane's, before she could turn
the page. "That's all there is," she said. Jane's shoulders sagged.

"I know," she replied. "I remember her drawing this. I was rushing her
to finish and put it away so we could go."

Jane sat in silence for a long time. After a while her hand found
Valerie's again, and held on tight.

***

After clearing away the breakfast things, they had decided on a walk
out in the grounds of the house, 'to get some air,' Jane had said. It
was crisp and cold, but still. For a while the only sound was the
crunching of their boots through the snow as they walked, arm in arm.
Valerie still had those sunglasses on, but otherwise, Jane thought,
was very fetching all in black. Hats suited her, clearly. Sunglasses,
she conceded privately, were probably not a bad idea either, given the
combination of a hangover, snow on the ground, and sunshine. *Never
mind,* she told herself, *too late to go back for them now.*

"I've been thinking about what we discussed last night," Jane began.
She saw Valerie's brow dip, *probably wondering which thing,* she
thought, finding an old habitual smile of satisfaction at the young
person's discomfiture. "I haven't changed my mind," she continued. "I
am prepared," she was conscious of it sounding like one of her
speeches to students, "to offer you a home, such family as I am, the
remainder of your upbringing and education. A base, from which you may
launch your life, for which purpose, although I say it myself, I am
extremely well-suited. In fact," she added, "I am more than
'prepared,' I believe I should like it very much."

"Jane..."

"You can't now say I'm too drunk to think straight, can you," Jane
teased, nudging her as they walked.

"No," Valerie smiled, "I know you mean it. I know you're being
serious. It's just..." She sighed. "You _are_ going to start the
Academy again. I know you don't think so yet, but I'm sure you are."

"I concede it's possible. I must admit I hadn't seriously considered
it until yesterday."

"It's inevitable. It's your calling," she added, with a grin.

"I take it you have a problem with that then?"

Valerie sighed, "I find some of your methods - questionable, okay?
What you do to those kids when they first arrive... well, let's look
at it: You drug them, you confiscate their belongings, you indimidate
them, you strip them and humiliate them, you blackmail them and scare
them, you start erasing their physical identity, changing their
appearance, you cut off their contact with the outside world, and you
lock them in at night, and that's day _one!_"

"And yet it works."

"And yet, yes, I've seen it work, but my God, Jane, that's a _serious_
mindfuck, excuse the language, and that's before I even get _started_
on the gender stuff. Look at that nude drawing Eugenia did of herself.
What exactly do you think was going through Gene's head when _he_ drew
that?" Jane looked down at that, thoughtful. "You only need to do that
to the wrong kid once and you could end up with another corpse on your
hands!"

"Valerie..." Jane squeezed the girl's arm to soften the interruption.
"I do know." Valerie looked aside at her, but held her peace, to hear
her out. "I've been doing this for a very long time. I've made
mistakes, and learned from them. I understand the line I walk with
these children. It _is_ dangerous, yes," she admitted. "Sometimes I
scare myself thinking about it. Sometimes I question my own motives,
because, after all, I _enjoy_ the work, Valerie, and I wonder if that
is - proper. But if I thought I was doing harm..." She shook her head.
"I couldn't bear that. I couldn't bear it." They walked on in silence
for a while. "I do understand how dangerous it is, Valerie. I do. All
I can do is reassure you that I know my job. There is no aspect of the
program I follow that has not been carefully thought through -
sometimes agonized over - and justified for its _specific_ purpose. It
is not nearly so arbitrary as I take pains to make it appear," she
added with a wry grin. "Which is not to say there aren't times when
some _considerable_ amount of improvisation is required."

Valerie shook her head. "I still don't like it," she muttered. "I
don't know that I could be a party to it."

Jane nodded, carefully. "Very well. I wouldn't ask you to be."

"But I'm going to _be_ there, aren't I?"

"I would ask only that you maintain a feminine demeanor and not
actually undermine me. Can you do that?"

Valerie shrugged. "It's close enough to what we agreed for the second
half of the summer. As long as I don't have to sleep in the basement,"
she added mischievously.

"Why on Earth would I ask you to sleep in the basement?"

"Never mind," Valerie grinned at some private joke.

"Besides," Jane added, "by the time any of this might come to pass,
you may very well be in college."

"With any luck I'll be _home_," Valerie pointed out. Jane nodded. It
occurred to Valerie suddenly that without Jane, college was something
that simply wouldn't be there in her future any more. She wondered
briefly if Jane had reminded her deliberately. "What you're offering
is wonderful, much more than I ever had the right to expect. I'd be an
idiot to turn it down."

"It's no more than you deserve, Valerie. Don't you have any idea," she
added to Valerie's blank expression, "what you've done for me?
Already? For the first time in half a year I feel I could have
something to look forward to. I'm sure," she finished, "that if you
have any worries we can work to lay them to rest."

"It's not just that, Jane. It's..." she glanced at her watch,
"forty-eight hours ago I had my _own_ life. I lived with my Mom and
Dad, I had a girlfriend, I had my friends. Suddenly I'm pulled out of
that and I'm just - it's like I'm just a shadow of how someone's life
_might_ have gone. It's too soon, Jane," she tried to explain, "It's
too soon to just give up and write all that off as if it never
happened."

Jane nodded. "I understand," she said. "And the last thing you need is
a lonely old spinster coming at you seeing one last chance at
motherhood, eh?"

"That's _not_ what I meant!" Valerie protested, before she caught
Jane's grin that told her she was being teased again.

"The offer remains open, Valerie. Should you find your way home, I'll
be happy for you. Otherwise, remember my offer, and think about it."

"I will, Jane."

"You know the telephone number here, don't you?"

"Um, unless you changed it," she reeled it off. Jane nodded.

"That's the one, but I will be moving away - when I decide where, so
if I have done so before you make your own decision, call Art. I'll
give you his number and tell him you may call."

Valerie nodded.

"So are you going back, to help your counterpart see sense?"

Valerie sighed, and kicked at the snow. "Guess so."

"I think you should. You've been such a help to me, I can't help but
believe that you're here to help."

Valerie laughed dryly. "Yeah, maybe I got my superhero power after
all. I can make people cry. Yay." Jane shoved her away playfully in
response, unlinking their arms in the process. "I was kind of hoping
it would be something more," Valerie continued when she had recovered
her balance. "You know, like laser-beam eyes, or flying." She made a
little experimental hop as if to see if she would come back to Earth.
She did. "Sucks to be a pedestrian."

Jane was laughing. "What would you have done if you _had_ flown?" she
asked.

"Probably slammed straight into that tree," she pointed at the large
oak towards which they were moving, "and given myself serious head
injuries, of course," Valerie grinned. "On the other hand, if I
survived the first three minutes and got the hang of it, it would sure
save on gas for getting around."

"That reminds me," Jane interjected, "I meant to ask you, do you have
enough money?"

"Um..."

"That would be a 'no' wouldn't it?" Jane confirmed, and carried on to
cover Valerie's obvious embarrassment. "All you have is what you were
carrying at the time, minus what you spent to get here. Am I correct?"
Valerie nodded. "I'll give you some money to be getting on with," Jane
announced. "Don't argue with me," she warned, before Valerie could
start, "my mind is made up."

"I didn't come here to take money off you," Valerie protested anyway.

"I know. Believe me, if I thought you had you'd have been out of here
so fast your head would spin." Jane softened her tone. "This is not
payment," she continued. "This is not paying you off. On the contrary,
I _want_ you to return. This is just to help you get by until you do.
This is just to give you _time_ to think about things properly.
Understand me?"

Valerie nodded. "I suppose."

"And I warn you, if you do come back and I formally adopt you, you'll
not get money out of me this easily again. I take my duties very
seriously and I would be _very_ conscientious in not allowing you be
spoiled by my wealth, so you may as well make the most of it now."

Valerie grinned. "Well, if you put it like _that,_" she said,
jokingly.

"I do."

***

The ride into town had been a trial. Snow was not a road bike's
natural terrain at the best of times, and Valerie was not an
experienced rider, this being her first winter on two wheels, and her
first time in snow. She took it _very_ carefully, wobbling along
behind Jane's BMW down the long lane. Eventually they got there and
the roads cleared up.

At the bank, Jane withdrew a large sum of money - much, _much_ more
than Valerie had expected - and passed it to her. "Wait, Jane, that's
too much!" she protested.

"I told you not to argue. This is for you to use as you will, but I
trust you will do so wisely. Take it graciously, girl, you know how."

Valerie gave up. She nodded, accepting the money. "Thank you Jane. I
won't forget this."

"Nor are you to think yourself beholden to me because of it," Jane
reminded her. "This is time, that's all. Time for you to think."

They went outside, back into the crisp cold, to where her bike waited
at the curbside. Valerie guessed this was it, as she bent to unlock
the chain. The forecast said the rest of the snow would hold off until
tomorrow night, so she had to get moving to get back in time.

Valerie stepped forwards impulsively and hugged the older woman. Jane
stood nonplussed for a second, then returned the hug. "I'll be in
touch," Valerie said into her ear. "Whatever I decide, I'll be in
touch. If you _don't_ hear from me, it means I've found a way home,
okay? If I'm here I'll be in touch _whatever_ I decide." They
separated. Jane ruffled Valerie's hair, playfully. It wasn't to be
resisted.

"Now, you go and straighten out that other foolish child, will you?"
she said. Valerie nodded, smiled and swung her leg over the bike's
seat and started the engine.

***

It was a hard ride. Mile after mile after mile into the afternoon sun,
shining off the snow-covered fields into her eyes. The sunglasses she
still had on under her helmet could only help so much. Sometimes the
highway was closed down to a lane with piles of slush on either side.
She was _cold_. Her hands, even inside her winter gloves, seemed to
freeze into claws as the miles went by. Her back-side hurt
tremendously.

It was almost a relief when the sun set and was out of her eyes, but
as it got darker she found herself getting more and more nervous about
the unseen snow and ice on the road, so she started looking for a
motel. *Early to bed, early to rise,* she reasoned, then she could get
a lot of miles done before the sun overtook her again. She understood
now why most people put their bikes away for the winter months; she
had thought it merely a sign of weakness before.

As she pushed open the motel bedroom door, she vowed the next morning
she would do a thorough check of the bike before starting off. She had
just figured her breakdown-assistance membership wasn't going to be
valid, which would mean paying way over the odds in cash if something
happened. She _had_ the cash, of course, but it would be a shame to
waste it on being stupid.

Her hands hurt badly with cold. She had tried to stave off the cold
during the ride by warming her hands alternately on the engine, but it
was uncomfortable reaching down to that, and she had had to accelerate
each time before taking her right hand off the throttle and
declutching, so she had speed to lose while she got heat to the hand.
Even so, she had some difficulty getting the gloves off, and when she
did they were pink and clammy. Frostbite, she realized, was a risk.
She blew on her fingers and stuffed them into her armpits and wondered
if she could find somewhere in the morning to buy heated gloves, or
something; a decent bike shop, if she was lucky, where she could ask.
Getting off the rest of her clothes and turning on the shower hurt her
hands more, but eventually she was able to get in under the hot stream
and work her hands back into life.

Eventually she forced herself to leave the shower and head for bed,
finding herself shivering violently to get the bedding up to
temperature. She lay there waiting for her mammal-body to do its work,
and looked at the ceiling.

It was cracked, the paintwork yellowed with age. If it hadn't been for
Jane's offer, she had been reckoning on seeing a lot more ceilings
like this. That was assuming she did well enough on her own to keep
any roof over her head. *I want to go home,* she thought to herself.
*I miss Debbie. I miss Mike. I miss Mom and Dad. I even miss Brian,*
she realized. Then had another thought. She should have thought of it
earlier, she berated herself. *They're missing me! They'll be
wondering where the hell I've gone! They'll be thinking I've run off
somewhere again. Oh God...* Even if she did get back, there'd be hell
to pay. She lay awake, imagining Mike and Debbie, the Rat Boyz, the
Pack, driving around looking for her, thinking she was holed up
somewhere having some emotional crisis, and getting themselves into a
complete panic. She imagined her parents; Mom, frantic, lashing out at
the presumed incompetence of the police. Dad pretending self-control
for Mom's sake. The police... The police would be on the case by now.
But they wouldn't find her either. She imagined Mom and Dad looking on
in dread as the divers trawled the river bed - in this freezing
weather - but they wouldn't find anything.

Sooner or later she'd be a face on the side of a milk carton. People
disappear all the time, she realized. They just _disappear_ without
warning and no-one ever hears from them again. Or sometimes they
reappear, but they're _different_, somehow. Or sometimes you hear how
someone changed overnight. *Does this happen all the time?* She
thought suddenly. *Does what happened to me happen _all the time?_* As
she lay still she thought she felt herself twisting or falling or
floating. Just her inner ear playing tricks, she realized, shaking her
head to reset it. It seemed appropriate though. *How can I depend on
_anything?_* She wondered.

*I want to go home.*

***

*What day is it?* She counted it up. *Tuesday?* She'd been missing
around 72 hours, back home. The miles swept by underneath her. She
flexed her hands inside the thermal 'lobster' gloves she'd been
recommended. Her fingers felt nice and toasty, and no need for
electrics. She was impressed.

She'd been right to check the bike in the morning. It had been
dangerously low on oil, and all the road gunk was threatening to clog
the radiator completely. It needed a serious wash to get all the road
salt out. Generally it seemed to be a happy machine though; happier
for receiving a little TLC. Times like this she wished she'd bought a
bike with a fairing. It would have protected her from the road gunge
and the cold _cold_ wind. But she hadn't expected to go touring the
country. A nice little Japanese commuter bike, for darting in and out
of traffic in town and the occasional hoon round the countryside.

'Girly', Mike had described it, so she'd stuck him on the jump seat
and ridden until he screamed for mercy. The acceleration made even
Stupid look, well, stupid, and it had Dark Star brakes to match. In
the end Mike kind of enjoyed it, once he'd decided to stop screaming
and try to relax. She was still working on him to get one too. Oh the
havoc they could cause... She'd insisted on Mike and Debbie each
having their own set of bike gear, so she could take them on the back
if the need arose. She wouldn't countenance taking them anywhere
without at least a helmet. Someone on that newsgroup had sent her some
pictures and she hadn't needed more convincing. "What do doctors call
bikers who don't wear crash helmets?" the joke had gone. "Organ
donors."

It had been hard enough to persuade Dad not to force her to keep a
spare set of bike gear on the bike at all times. After all the
arguments about how it would cripple the bike, and how ill-fitting
gear is less effective anyway, the clincher was when she'd shown him
those same pictures and said "Look, Dad, I'm not going to let this
happen to my friends, okay? _Trust_ me on this."

The state border was coming up ahead, so she slowed. *Nearly there
then,* she grinned at herself. *Only a few hundred more miles...*
Through the barriers and _away_. Some idiot in a Cobra thought he
could take her. She laughed as she saw him diminish in her rear-view
mirrors. *Power to weight ratio strikes again!* Home-straight now. *On
the way back from the winter hikes in upstate New York, it always felt
like we were really on our way home when we passed here,* she
remembered from her childhood. *I love my bike,* she thought to
herself. *I'm so glad it came with me. Just hope the cops don't check
the license plate...*

A few minutes later the Cobra belted past her at some ungodly speed.
She'd settled down at what she considered her safe limit in this
weather, which was still fast enough to get her into trouble, she
knew, but that was nothing unusual. She just needed a nice,
fuel-efficient, mile-eating kind of speed that wasn't too stressful.
*Guess he had something to prove,* she mused as the Cobra disappeared
in a spray of snow and ice into the distance. She let her awareness
spread out again, after the disruption of the border. She could sense
herself as a mote inching through the landscape. *The road goes ever
on and on, back to the place where it began,* she almost-murmured.
*When is someone gonna make a decent film of that anyway?* Then it was
a game to remember as many road songs as she could.

***

Home. Only not. She parked her bike across the street and watched the
house for a while. It didn't look like anyone was in. Maybe they were
having a family dinner somewhere. Maybe they were just all out on
_separate_ stuff. She pondered taking the front door, but decided
against it. *The alarm code might have changed,* she thought, *and I'd
set it off. Same with Tuck's room. He might have changed the code.*

So it would have to be the _other_ way in. Through the bedroom window.
She grimaced as she painfully separated herself from the seat of the
bike and went across, trying to unkink her hips so she didn't walk
like John Wayne.

Once inside she opened the bedroom door from the inside and locked it
open so she could go to the bathroom. She stepped out into the hallway
and got an immediate shock at a movement coming out of Brian's room.
She froze. It was a cat, curling round the doorway to investigate, she
realized. *They have a _cat_ here,* she remarked to herself, bending
down to stroke it. Not much more than a kitten, she realized.
Apparently she passed muster, as it started purring, yawned, then
wandered off back to Brian's room.

So she wasn't entirely surprised when she sneezed and only just
avoided stepping into the litter box in the bathroom.

She decided to take a chance and have a quick shower. Two days in the
saddle can make one take such chances, she excused herself. She was
very quick, though. Less than ten minutes later she was crashing out
in bed, the door locked against all but one. Five minutes later than
that she was asleep.

***

"You _are_ real," the voice said. Valerie found that strangely
comforting, given the other dreams she'd been having.

No, she realized. The voice was really there. She opened an eye,
cautiously. "Nuh...?" she managed. Tuck was kneeling by the bed. She
made an effort and woke another couple of notches. "Yeah, sorry I ran
out on you at the mall. Something I had to do." She sat up slowly,
still dazed from sleep, and became aware that something was not right.
Tuck was _looking_ at her. "What?" she demanded, *Oh, tits,* she
realized belatedly, snatching up the covers around her. "I hope you
don't mind," she continued. "I didn't have anyplace else to go."

"I kept dreaming about you," Tuck replied. He sounded a bit dreamy,
she thought. Out of it. "I thought... Mike said..." He stopped.
Valerie watched him as he tried to collect himself. "Mike said you
were a vision."

"Jeez, Tuck," she observed suddenly, "you look like shit. What've you
been doing?" He looked like he hadn't eaten or slept for days, and not
in a nice too-busy-hacking way either. She watched the play of
expressions across his face. He had tears in his eyes.

"Mike's gone," he whispered, then, and fell silent long enough for
Valerie to feel a chill run right through her.

"Gone?" she asked, feeling stupid. "How do you mean gone? What kind of
gone?"

Tuck shrugged, his head hanging. "Gone. Disappeared. No-one can find
him." Tuck gasped in a breath. "I can't find him. I _did_ this! I
drove him away!" He was starting to have a panic attack, Valerie could
see, so she grasped one of his hands and squeezed, _hard_, to get his
attention.

"Tell. Me. What. Happened." She enunciated the words carefully, to get
through. For a moment her thoughts of the previous night came back.
*This happens all the time.* Had Mike jumped out? But then she
thought, *no, this is happening just like it did before, that time.*

"I..." Tuck struggled. "I _cut_ him," he whispered finally. "I cut
him. I got angry and I swung at him and I was holding a knife and I
cut him." It all came out in a rush. He looked back up at Valerie,
desperately. "I spilt my brother's blood in anger," he added, as if
she needed it explained to her. *Oh God,* she was thinking. *This is
_way_ worse than what happened to me.* "And then he left," Tuck was
continuing. "He didn't say a word, he just _left_. And no-one's seen
him since."

"Oh Tuck," she breathed. *Oh Jane, is this what you meant? You think I
was brought here to fix _this?_* She sighed. *I have _no_ idea what to
do.* "When did this happen?" She asked.

"Sunday. Sunday evening."

"Oh God," Valerie realized, "I _felt_ that." She ignored Tuck's
questioning look. She was thinking. "Okay," she said, the shape of
what she would do forming. "Okay. What time is it?"

"Um, after eleven."

"Dad still up?" Tuck nodded. "Okay, we need to be sneaky then. You
need to go and get some things together. Ready?" Tuck nodded again.
"Okay. Um. Some camp mats, stuff to make a fire, including some dry
wood, a first-aid kit, a quart of cold water and a big bowl. And the
knife you cut Mike with."

"What...?" Tuck looked nonplussed.

"Never mind, just do it. And Tuck," she added, hazarding a guess.
"Your blades." She nodded towards the bedside drawer. "Get them too."
She saw it hit home on his face. *Good guess then,* she decided.
*Now,* she beamed, *you will _not_ freak, you will _not_ freeze.
You'll hold it together and get the stuff.* She held his gaze for
several seconds, until he nodded. "Oh, and I need some clothes. Mine
are rank."

Tuck pointed at the wardrobe. "Val-stuff's at the bottom," he
muttered, and fled out of the room.

Valerie sighed. She hoped to hell she knew what she was doing.

***

Valerie had quickly chosen a pair of black jeans, a T-shirt, a dark
grey sweater and her own bike boots and jacket. She was just pulling
her hair out from under the sweater to tie it into a ponytail when
Tuck came back into the room. He started stuffing the things he'd
brought into his backpack, except the large water-bottle. He was done,
and seemed to be hesitating, then went to his bedside drawer-unit and
retrieved the small box Valerie had known was there, and put that in
too. Valerie was feeling a little weak in her legs; she hadn't had
enough sleep, she knew. *More than Tuck,* she thought. He seemed to be
running mostly on nerves. He disappeared out of the room again and
returned a couple of minutes later with his own winter boots and ski
jacket.

***

Tuck didn't speak until they were well out of range of the house,
walking quickly against the growing cold. There were already some
bitter specks of snow in the air, whipping around indecisively. "Where
are we looking for him, then?" Tuck asked, suddenly. "Do you know
where he is?"

"We're not going to look for him," Valerie replied. "He's going to
find you. You're going to call to him." At Tuck's unspoken question,
she continued, "You'll see. I've done this before," she added grimly.

They walked on in silence. After a while, Tuck realized where they
were going.

"We're going to his house?" he asked her.

"The treehouse."

***

The steps up were icy and treacherous. Tuck went up first. He slipped
once, but caught himself. The Johanssen's bedroom was round the front
of the house, so they shouldn't hear anything, they hoped.

"Okay," Valerie said, once they were in. It was _cold_. Frost covered
the walls. "Put the mats down and let's start this fire." She looked
up, to check the ceiling-hole was intact and clear.

"You're going to start a _fire_ in here?" Tuck gasped, astonished.
Valerie nodded.

"What's up? You like hypothermia, or don't you know how to handle a
small fire?"

Tuck shook his head in wonder and spread out the first of the mats. In
a few minutes the mats were laid out and Valerie had the fire lit.
Small as it was, it made the old treehouse feel immediately brighter
and warmer. Valerie sat on the mat on Tuck's right side, set the bowl
between them and filled it with the cold water they had brought.

"Now," she started. "You want Mike to come back?" Tuck nodded mutely.
"What would you give?"

"Anything, right now," Tuck said. "Anything."

"Anything?" Tuck nodded. "Your right hand, for example?" Tuck nodded
again, automatically. It was the standard thing one said, 'I'd give my
right hand to...' Tuck looked up at Valerie suddenly. She was watching
him, then looked meaningfully aside at the fire, and back.

"You're kidding," Tuck got out eventually. Valerie shook her head.

"If you want him back, _call_ him. Hasn't he always come when you were
in pain?" Tuck just looked at her, aghast. "You won't lose it, Tuck,"
she continued, trying to keep the testiness out of her voice. "There
will be pain. There has to be. But it's not the Gom Jabbar, you don't
have to hold it in there more than a moment or two."

"You really _mean_ it, don't you." Tuck said carefully. Valerie
nodded, and raised her hand to show Tuck.

"See? No sign of it now, so don't worry. It'll heal. It's not as bad
as that taser," she added. "The difference is what's in your head."

Tuck looked back at the fire, pensively. Valerie waited. Then in one
decisive move he thrust his hand into the heart of the fire.
*One-one-thousand,* Valerie counted silently, *two-one-thousand,
thr...*

"Enough!" she yelled, just as Tuck yanked his hand away, crying out.

"Shitshitshit!" he cried, cradling his hand. Valerie quickly grabbed
his wrist and dunked his hand in the bowl of water. "Ah! Ah!" Tuck was
gasping. His tears glistened on his cheeks.

"Hold still," she commanded, as he tried to jerk his hand away again.
He complied, as she opened the first aid kit.

"How does it feel?" she asked after he had held his hand immersed for
several minutes.

"Um, aching more from the cold now I think," he offered.

"Okay, you don't want frostbite. Let's take a look."

She was still applying the dressing when they both started at a sound
from outside. From the end of the street, she could clearly hear the
antisocial roar of Stupid's engine. (The _old_ engine, she noticed,
irrelevantly.)

"It worked," Tuck murmured, incredulously. "My God it worked."

"Yeah," Valerie's voice came tightly. "Now comes the _hard_ part.

***
---

*The treehouse is on fire!* The dream was still too vivid in Mike's
mind. It had pulled him sharply into wakefulness in a second, but
somehow hadn't stopped. *The black bird, glinting in the firelight.
The treehouse is on fire, and Tuck's trapped inside.* And he wasn't
helping. He wasn't sure if it was because he couldn't, or wouldn't.
Either way...

Either way he was in his car within a minute and gunning the engine.
It was just too vivid to be ignored. *This was no simple _dream_,* he
told himself. *Tuck's hand in flames.*

He screeched the car to a halt, and was running round the side of the
house almost before the engine had shuddered to a stop. There was
firelight... _inside_ the treehouse, yes. Not the treehouse on fire.
Still... There were footsteps leading to the tree, softened by more
recent snowfall. He scrambled up the steps, lost his footing once and
carried on more carefully until his head came above floor level and he
could see inside. There was Tuck, kneeling by an open fire and staring
into the flames, his right hand in a newly-applied bandage. And there
was...

"Come in Mike," said Tuck's double. Or near-double.

"Uh," was all he could say.

"Think of me as a vision, if it helps you to accept me. But _come
in_."

Tuck still did not move or look up. Mike hesitated a moment longer,
staring at Valerie, then clambered into the treehouse. Besides, it was
warmer inside, and off the precarious steps. Valerie waited for him to
settle, then she held out her hand to him, palm-upturned. Mike looked
between her intense blue-eyed gaze, her black hair glinting in the
light of the fire, and Tuck, beside her, diminished and still not
looking up. Vision or not, at such close range, in a confined space
barely able to contain the three of them, Mike felt the physical
reality of her. *Tuck hadn't imagined her then,* he thought. *Or I
am.* Mike nodded then, and unhooked his athame, still sheathed, from
his belt and handed it to her. Valerie drew it from its sheath, but
then just placed it on the floor, next to the fire, where it gleamed
in the flickering light. Mike noticed Tuck's slight start as he saw it
there.

"Tuck," she said gently. "Bring out the weapon." Tuck jumped again,
slightly, and glanced fearfully between the two of them, then he
twisted where he sat to scrabble in his backpack. Finally he brought
out the small paring knife. Valerie pointed to the floor next to the
athame, and Tuck carefully put it down. It was an ugly, utilitarian
thing, squatting by the graceful elongated cruciform of the athame.

"Pick it up, Mike," Valerie directed. Mike hesitated, then did so.
*What is she up to?* He wondered. "Take it back," she commanded.
"Strike for strike, blood for blood, as you were struck." At Mike's
hesitation, Valerie reached over the fire and drew his hand forward
until the blade was inches from Tuck's cheek.

Tuck held his breath, looking first at the blade, almost too close to
focus on, then up at Mike.

Mike's hand trembled, at full extension, as he paused.

"Take your due, Mike," Valerie insisted.

Tuck's eyes seemed to plead with Mike to do it, for the release. Mike
just felt... revulsion, suddenly. *No,* he thought. *This is just
bloodletting.*

"No," he breathed, finally, and lowered the knife. Its single milled
edge reflected the firelight dully. "I won't do it." He was surprised
then by a sigh of relief from Valerie, even as Tuck looked
crestfallen.

"You understand then," Valerie said softly. Mike nodded.

"This is bad blood," Mike replied. He placed the knife on the floor
again.

Valerie nodded in return. "Blood has always bound you, now it divides
you. Tuck," she turned to her other-self, "bring them out now."

Tuck nodded slowly and reached back into his backpack.

"Mike," Valerie continued, "more than _your_ blood was spilled."

Tuck placed a small cardboard box by the two knives. Mike looked at
it, uncomprehending. His eyes flicked back up to Tuck, who was staring
back at the fire, and at Valerie, who nodded at him to continue. Mike
gingerly lifted the lid from the box.

Inside, scattered, were what looked at first glance to be a large
number of small folded pieces of thin card. He picked one out,
realized it was sealed shut and opened it carefully. A small steel
shard dropped into his palm and gleamed there. Barely an inch long,
with a delicate, keen edge that curved up to an exact point, and a
slot at the rear where it would... *A scalpel blade,* he realized
suddenly, glancing back up at Tuck and Valerie. *What the hell?* There
had to be a hundred of them in the box at least, and it didn't look
newly-opened. He glanced back up at Tuck and Valerie. Tuck was rocking
back and forth slightly, he realized, still staring into the fire.

"I don't understand," he got out then, feeling stupid.

"Tuck," Valerie said again, ever gentler than before. "Show him."

It was a long while before Tuck responded at all. He hadn't looked up
from the fire or stopped rocking.

"Do I have to?" he asked eventually, in a tiny voice.

Mike watched Valerie put her arm around Tuck, for an answer. It looked
so strange, the two of them, the same, yet not. Tuck's rocking stopped
and he sat more upright to look in Valerie's eyes. He had tears in
his, Mike saw. In that moment Mike realized Tuck was beautiful. The
revelation surprised tears from his own eyes. It had nothing to do
with sex, or attraction, or Tuck's gender, he knew, it just _was_.
*How could I have gone away?* He berated himself. *Never, never
again.*

Meanwhile Tuck had come off his knees and brought his legs round to
his front and he was starting to roll up one leg of his pants. What
Mike saw uncovered nearly stopped his heart.

From ankle to knee Tuck's leg was covered in a tracery of fine scars.
Some were recent - there was even a dressing still attached just below
Tuck's knee - others were older, some almost faded away. Tuck was
rolling up his other pant leg to show more of the same. Mike just
stared. The scars seemed to be arranged in little groups, he realized,
of parallel lines, like claw-marks, or, he thought, almost like some
kind of ritual scarification. Sometimes newer scars cross-hatched
older ones. It seemed to be a work of maniacal obsessiveness. He
glanced up at Tuck's face, but Tuck wouldn't meet his eyes.

"You see why you can't use the blood-rite?" Valerie asked into the
shocked silence. "Blood can't heal this." Mike nodded. He was
appalled.

"How long has this been going on?" he asked, eventually. Valerie
remained silent, but watched Tuck.

"Since start of October," he whispered. "Occasionally. Now it's most
days." Tuck rolled his pants down over his legs again in shame. He
still wouldn't meet Mike's eyes.

"Tuck, _why?_"

It was a long time before Tuck answered that one. "It keeps me real,"
he murmured, eventually. Mike didn't understand him. "It keeps me in
my body." Mike was still confused, but saw Valerie nodding in
agreement.

"You've got to _stop_ this, man!" he exclaimed. "I mean, this isn't
_right!_" He found he had tears in his eyes again.

Tuck dipped his head. "Okay Mike."

"No," Valerie cut in suddenly, "he can't. Not until he's ready. Mike,"
Valerie's voice was actually plaintive, "don't ask him to make
promises he can't keep, okay? If he stops this now he'll have to do
something else, and it won't be as safe. We didn't show you this
because we thought you could fix it. We showed it to you because you
need to know." Mike nodded in understanding. "Tuck," she continued,
"You take this to Sheila, okay? She'll earn her keep with this one, I
promise you."

"I just know anything that's making you do that to yourself is wrong
in principle," Mike complained.

"Anything that makes me cut you is wrong in principle," Tuck replied.
"Mike, tell me I'm not making a huge mistake?"

"Which one?"

"You know which one."

Mike sighed and stuck his head in his hands. He tried to think back,
as he had been trying ever since Sunday, to pin down where it had all
gone wrong. He glanced at Valerie, as she bent to feed more wood to
the fire; she was calm and, in some way he couldn't define, she was
_powerful_. She was just so _herself_. Whereas Tuck...

It really wasn't a surprising conclusion, he thought. Just that it had
been danced around and ignored for so long that it had almost been
forgotten out of habit.

How to get it across to Tuck, who had been dancing more furiously than
anyone, and always right on the precipice?

"Ever since they put you on those shots," he started, "you've been
getting weirder. Not in a nice way either. You know, out of control."
Tuck nodded. "What happened on Sunday... I realized afterward, it had
been building up for a long time." Tuck nodded at that too. "I don't
think they're doing you any good."

"What shots?" Valerie asked suddenly. *Ah, she doesn't know it all
then,* Mike noted with some satisfaction.

"Tes... Testosterone," Tuck answered her. Valerie's eyes widened.

"And they think _that's_ going to make a man of you?" she asked,
incredulously.

Tuck smiled grimly. "That was the general idea, yeah. I think," there
was just an edge of hysteria in his voice as he tried to make light of
it, "I must have got a bad batch 'cause they're just making me into an
asshole." He sighed. "They keep saying I need this operation too,
before they can stabilize my regime."

"Fucking with you, Tuck," Valerie muttered.

"You want that operation?" Mike asked, full-knowing the answer. He
wanted Tuck to say it though.

Tuck shook his head. "No. I don't." He looked into the fire for a few
more moments. "Gonna stop the shots too," he decided finally. "Next
one's on Thursday. God, I've got to tell Mom and Dad," he said into
his hands.

"It's not just the shots though, is it?" Mike prodded. Tuck looked at
him quizzically. "Don't be dense, Tuck, this has all gone to hell
since you started phasing Val out. The Pack's gone cold on you,
right?"

"They said they'd still be friends," Tuck complained.

"And they are. But. Well, you know."

"They're friends with Valerie, not her geeky brother," Valerie
offered. Mike nodded firmly.

"That's the heart of it yes. Oh they're _trying_, but they're _having_
to try, follow me?" Tuck nodded. "Then there's the babysitting. You
don't say so, but I _know_ how much you miss those kids."

Tuck nodded glumly. "Yeah, but I shouldn't've got so attached to them
anyway," he said. "It's not as if they were _mine_." He sighed. "Not
as if I can _have_ any of my own after all," he finished sullenly.

"Three. Travis. You're still seeing him aren't you? As Valerie, I
mean?" Tuck nodded. "Have you even _told_ him what's going on yet?"
Tuck shook his head.

"I know, Mike," he interrupted before Mike could get a head of steam
up. "I know. And before you ask, no, things haven't been too great
with Travis either. Something's making him unhappy and he won't say
what and I'm not asking 'cause I think I _know_. I know, it's
pathetic. I just... I just wanted to hang on to that a little longer,
okay?"

***

Tuck sat for a long time. "I thought this was what you wanted," he
said finally.

"What?"

"Well, you kept saying stop this and slow down and this isn't normal
and..."

"Whoah there," Mike interrupted. "No. Yes, I wanted to you _think_
about what you were doing, Tuck, that's not the same thing! That
doesn't mean I disapprove!"

"Well you sure made me _think_ you did," Tuck protested.

"Well I shouldn't have. That wasn't what I meant. I just - You were
always getting yourself into these situations out of your control, and
I don't think you really wanted to be _in_ control. _That's_ what
scared me."

Pause.

"Besides," said Mike, after he had calmed down. "I miss Valerie too,
you know?"

"What?" Tuck asked, surprised.

"I do. I miss her. As much as anyone does." As Mike said it, he
realized how true it was. "I thought you were doing the right thing,"
he admitted, "about the shots and phasing Valerie out and all that.
But now I've _seen_ you trying to become something you're not. It's
different. You being Valerie was _not_ you being something you're
not." He grimaced at his syntax. "Never has been. Not even in the Age
of Tape," he added, for the cheap thrill of seeing _both_ of them
wince.

"I don't know," Tuck sighed. "It just seems like no-one wants _me_,
you know? They just want Valerie."

Mike shook his head. "But you _are_ Valerie," he explained. "It _is_
you. You couldn't have done it if it wasn't you."

"But it's not _all_ of you," Valerie - the _other_ Valerie - added
suddenly. "You're split in two. Valerie is part of you and Tuck is
part of you and there's _some_ blurring in the middle, but neither is
complete."

Mike nodded. "'S true. Can't recall Valerie ever pulling together a
righteous hack for da boyz," he said with a smile, "or joining in the
game." He shrugged. "For instance." Valerie chuckled, he wondered at
what memory.

"Can't see Tuck taking Travis out on a date," Valerie added, "or
telling him it's okay to cry, or getting down on the dance floor with
Jack." She grinned. "For instance."

"Or wiping a baby's ass," Mike contributed helpfully.

"Guys do that baby stuff too!" Tuck protested.

"Yeah, but when's _Tuck_ done it?" Mike countered.

"They wanted a girl..."

"There you go again," Mike accused, "making excuses. Eugene Tucker,
hacker elite, second-generation geek, Jester of da Boyz - taking a
_babysitting_ job? But _you_," he pointed a finger at Tuck, "wanted
it. Just like you wanted all the rest, all that other life Eugene
Tucker can't have." He was pushing now, and he knew it. Tuck just sat
there, very still, with this look in his eyes as if... *he's actually
_thinking_ now,* Mike realized. "And that's okay," he continued, more
gently. "It's _okay_ by me, Tuck, it really is. And it's okay by all
your friends, and it's okay by Travis, and it'll be okay by your
folks, I _guarantee_ you," he glanced at Valerie, "right?" Valerie
nodded. "Tuck, What we couldn't stand was the _bullshit_ you were
feeding yourself, and the rest of us, about why you were doing it!"
Mike noticed Valerie nodding at that, looking inward.

"But..." Tuck stammered, "but what about what I want that _Valerie_
can't have?"

"Like what?" asked Valerie.

Tuck sighed. "Being a dad, for one..." he trailed off, already, Mike
thought, aware of the hole in his argument.

"Wasn't gonna happen anyway, Tuck," Valerie said, a little harshly.
"Bzzt. Try again."

"You're just trying to push me," Tuck protested, "_you've_ decided
what I should be and now _you're_ pushing me as well!"

Mike sighed. *So close!*

"No," Valerie answered. "You do what you have to do to be yourself,
remember?" Tuck nodded. "Maybe you'll figure out a different way to do
it than me, maybe you just need more time, I dunno Tuck. This works
for me. Whatever the hell you've been trying lately _doesn't_, that's
obvious. On the gripping hand you seem to have a better tolerance for
doing all that double-life shit than I did after the summer. If that
works for you, it works. It doesn't work for me, but we're not the
same any more." She sighed. "I'm just saying - _we're_ saying - stop
with the bullshit about _why_ you're doing it. It's not like anyone
believed it anyway."

They were all quiet for a long time.

***

"I remember being afraid of seeming geeky in front of the pack,"
Valerie replied. "I remember trying to hide it most of the time."

"And now?" Tuck asked.

Valerie shrugged. "Turns out geek girls are cool," she grinned. "Or
should that be GEEK GRRLS R KEWL?" she enunciated. Mike could
practically _see_ that on a T-shirt.

"Only to geek guys," Tuck protested, but he was already smiling.

"Oh I don't know," Valerie replied mischievously. "I'd go down on a
girl who can build me a Linux box from scratch." She winked at Mike.

"I'd settle for one who could _pronounce_ Linux," Mike said,
play-mournfully. In reply, Tuck slapped them both, gently, with his
unwounded hand. "You're right," he admitted. "She doesn't have to be
able to pronounce Linux..." Tuck slapped him again. "Hey, hey," he
yelled, "I get this from the girl who put _Windows_ on her boyfriend's
box?"

"Ewww!" Valerie cried, "_No_ self-respect _city!_" She giggled.

***

They had talked until the wood for the fire ran out and it started to
get seriously cold, at which point it was either go home or start
stripping the treehouse for fuel. Mike had called bedtime. That was
fine for Mike, who only had about twenty yards to go. Tuck and Valerie
had to walk home. It was snowing, but it had decided to be _nice_ snow
at last. Big fluffy flakes falling into the light of the streetlamps
and almost no wind at all. The world sounded dead, but for their feet
crumping through the settled snow.

Tuck was happy. Mike had suggested they go shopping tomorrow and had
said, _specifically_ said, he wanted to go with Valerie. *Meaning me.*
Mike had always gone along with Valerie, or resigned himself to her,
always with a sigh, or a look as if to say _this is a bad idea_. Tuck
always had had this sense of _guilt_ about being Valerie around Mike,
so it was as if being Valerie was always something he _had_ to do for
one reason or another, something with a momentum of its own.

Mike had been right. It had been outside his control and that, he
realized, was exactly where he had wanted it, where it wasn't his
fault.

*Two words Mr. President. Plausible deniability.*

_I miss Valerie_, Mike had said, and the world changed.

"But you _hate_ shopping," Tuck had replied, after Mike had suggested
it. Mike had lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

"I'm a _guy_. It's in my contract. I gotta make a good show of it -
and I will, tomorrow - or They'll invoke the Gay penalty clause." They
had laughed at that. "Besides," Mike had added, "it's never dull
shopping with Val."

Tuck noticed Valerie looking pensive. "Whatsup?" he asked. The night
and the snow seemed to swallow up his words, but she did hear him,
apparently.

"Oh, just wondering if now's when I get to leap back," she replied,
sounding wistful.

"Leap? Oh," he realized. "Haha."

"Jane said," Valerie continued, "maybe I'd been sent for a purpose. I
thought maybe that was it. To get you and Mike back talking to each
other." She looked around at the snow as they walked, her hands
stuffed into the pockets of her bike jacket. "Guess not."

Tuck silently put his arm through hers and they walked on in silence.

*She's quite different from me,* Tuck was thinking. *Like she's older,
even though she's not. Sad, somehow.* He figured maybe that wasn't so
surprising, given the events of the last few days, but he thought
there was more. *She's afraid,* he realized. *Afraid she'll never see
_her_ Mike again. Or _her_ Debbie. _Her_ Mom and Dad.* He wondered if
he'd cope so well in the same situation. *And she seems more grown-up.
Is it because she's _made_ those decisions I've been scared to make?
What was I trying to hang on to?* Except of course, he remembered, he
_had_ made his decision. *Wrong one. Clearly. If it leads to me
cutting Mike, it's _wrong_.*

He wished he could make her happy. Or not-sad at least.

They rounded the last corner. Ahead, down the street was home,
pristine and comforting. "Oh no," Tuck chuckled at what he saw next.
"Your poor bike."

"She'll live," Valerie smiled. It looked very dejected, seeming to
have a hang-dog expression, laden down as it was with the snow that
had settled on it.

"We can put it in the garage," Tuck offered. Valerie shook her head.

"Too noisy, this time of night. Besides, what would Mom and Dad say
when they saw it there in the morning?"

Tuck shrugged. "Suppose so. Front door this time?" Valerie nodded
tiredly, as Tuck released her arm to get the keys from his pocket.

They got through the front door with the minimum of noise, which was
not, unfortunately, the same as none at all. They quickly removed
their boots in the darkness of the hallway. Valerie picked hers up to
carry upstairs as Tuck hung up his ski-jacket and led the way.

"Is that you Eugene?" Sarah's voice made Tuck jump. She was at the top
of the stairs. Glancing behind momentarily, Tuck saw Valerie move
smoothly back into shadow.

"Yeah, Mom," Tuck thought fast, then went up the rest of the stairs
quickly, making Sarah back off round the corner as he got to the top.
"Mike came back," he explained, realizing he didn't need any lies.
"He's okay. We were round at the treehouse, talking. You know, stuff."

"You sure he's okay?" Sarah asked. She didn't really seem fully awake.

"Yes. He's fine. We had a _lot_ to talk about, you know?" He smiled
for her. "We're fine now. Go to bed, Mom."

"What happened to your hand?"

Tuck almost screamed. "Nothing. I... We had a little fire going, and I
put my hand down wrong, that's all. It's okay." *Don't ask how I
happened to have the first aid kit with me.* "Come on Mom, go to bed."
*Go to bed,* he beamed, imagining Valerie was doing the same below.
Finally she buckled under the combined psychic assault.

As soon as the bedroom door was closed, Tuck went to his own door and
keyed in the code. Valerie must have heard the quiet confirmation
tone, as she suddenly appeared at his side and was through the door
before he was. He closed it and ensured it was locked.

"Oh God," Valerie was breathing hard, "I thought I was _done_ with
these damn French farces!" Tuck sat heavily on the bed.

"What a night," he muttered, happily though. Valerie dropped her boots
and shed her jacket before sitting beside him.

"You think you're going to sleep tonight then?" she asked.

"_Oh_ yes." He squirmed out of his sweater. When he'd got free of it,
he realized Valerie had gone all the way down to her panties and was
clambering into bed, shivering. He finished getting ready himself and
got in.

He could feel the heat of Valerie's body next to him. She moved,
suddenly, to reach over him and switch the light off. The room was
illuminated only by the moonlight reflecting off the snow outside.
Valerie was still up on one arm leaning slightly over him. Watching
him, he realized. He looked back, admiring the curve of light that was
her arm and shoulder, the fall of her hair against the light of the
window.

Suddenly, Valerie grinned and punched his arm lightly. "G'night Tuck,"
she whispered, and rolled onto her back and away from him. *Yeah,* he
agreed. *It would be weird. And I'm just getting my head _un_fucked
thank you very much.* It was more simple curiosity than actual desire
anyway, and he knew it.

"Go to _sleep_, Tuck," Valerie said softly. "I can hear you thinking
from here."

Tuck grinned. Of course she couldn't. She was just thinking the same
things.

She had a point though.

And he was terribly tired.

***

"You know, it's going to get confusing around here, with us both being
Val," Tuck said, sleepily. He was enjoying the morning sunlight on his
face. He'd woken to find himself nuzzling Valerie's breasts, which
produced a briefly embarrassing moment, but Valerie had understood.
"_One_ of us was going to do that," she'd said. It was sort of like
having Amy there, Tuck thought, or Susan. *My long-lost identical twin
sister,* he thought, smiling. It wasn't a bad way to think of her, all
things considered. *Maybe it'd be nice to have a sister who _really_
understands.*

Valerie shrugged, which jogged Tuck's head slightly as it was lying on
her upper arm. "'S your homeworld, you take it," she said. She didn't
sound much more awake than he did. "Not as if I'm going to be around
long."

"Yeah, but it actually _is_ your name now, you know, _properly_," Tuck
replied. "And I've hardly even used it recently." Tuck thought, and
rolled to face her. "Got an idea: What's your middle name?"

Valerie grinned. "Ah. Now that would be telling."

"Well, tell me then!"

"I asked Mom and Dad to come up with one," Valerie said softly.

"And?"

"And. Find out for yourself."

"..." Tuck recovered his voice. "You _bitch!_ That's not fair!"
Valerie's grin was _way_ too smug, so he tickled her, where he _knew_
she couldn't resist. Valerie yelped _loudly_ before she could stop
herself.

There was a tapping at the door. "Eugene? Are you all right in there?"
It was Dad's voice. Tuck was creased up with laughter, so badly he
couldn't speak.

"Yes Dad," Valerie called out then, making Tuck laugh even harder. He
was trying really hard to keep it silent but he felt like he was about
to explode.

"Is there someone else in there with you?" Dad's voice called back
suspiciously.

"No Dad, just talking to myself," Valerie continued. Tuck was almost
back in control so he put a finger over Valerie's mouth and finished,
"It's my duty as a certified nutcase, ask Sheila." It was Valerie's
turn to giggle. She buried her face in the quilt to muffle the sound.

"Well, all right." Dad sounded doubtful, but a few moments later Tuck
heard the bathroom door close, so guessed it was okay.

They fell silent again.

Tuck gazed at Valerie's so-black hair. Where the sunlight fell on it,
it shattered into iridescent greens and purples, shimmering with every
breath. Tuck was fascinated.

"You're really not going to tell me, are you," Tuck said eventually.
Valerie shook her head. "I'll sneak a look at your driver's license
when you're not looking," he challenged.

"Shouldn't have said that. Now you won't get a chance."

Tuck thought about that. "Shit."

"Think of it as an incentive," she answered mischievously.

"Oh yeah, great. So I get to find out right before being pounded to
death in school?"

Valerie turned her face to his, serious now. "I'm alive," she said
simply.

They were silent again for a while. Tuck watched Valerie's face,
fascinated, for a while. "What was it like?" he whispered.

"Don't wanna talk about it now. I'm in too good a mood." Tuck huffed
at that. "Ask me later, okay?"

"Okay." Tuck snuggled closer, basking. "This is nice," he murmured. "I
keep thinking it should be weird or something."

"Yeah, I know." Valerie ruffled his hair. "You feel like Amy."

"Was thinking the same thing."

"Well duh," Valerie smiled.

"Except, she's bouncier."

"You mean she has bigger boobs for you to stick your nose into, you
perv," Valerie teased.

"No!" Tuck poked her to emphasize. "I mean she bounces around a lot.
You're, well, graceful."

"Am I?"

"Yeah. The way you walk, the way you talk and move around, the way you
move your hands. Just... graceful. You know, elegant?"

Valerie shrugged.

"Did you learn that at this Jane's academy thing?"

"Guess so. Hadn't realized how much of it sunk in."

"D'you think she'd teach me?" Valerie laughed softly at the idea.
"What? What's so funny?"

"Never mind."

"You're being unfair again," Tuck complained.

"Oh, I was just thinking, how _adorable_ you'd look in petticoats,"
Valerie giggled.

"I bet _you_ did," Tuck retorted. Valerie didn't have an answer for
that. Tuck could tell, even from his snuggled-in position, that she
was blushing.

Valerie sighed. "We should get up."

"Yeah."

Neither of them made any move to do so.

"I don't want you to go," Tuck said softly. Valerie sighed deeply and
hugged him closer.

"I know. But I need to go home. I can't stay here, this is your life.
I can't live skulking around in the shadows."

"We'd think of something," Tuck protested.

"Okay, what about Christmas, just for example? What, are you going to
smuggle me aboard the plane in your suitcase?"

Tuck shook his head. "No. We'd figure something out. Properly."

"Invent a long-lost sister out of the blue?"

Tuck shrugged. "Something like that, I guess."

"I want to go _home_, Tuck!" she almost cried out, suddenly. "I _miss_
people. I want my life back, you know? I want Debbie and I want Mike
and I want my phone to work and to have people on the other end that
know _me_. I want Charlene to be happy, I want Teresa to be _alive!_ I
want to go on a ride-out with Jill, I want..." She stopped, unable to
continue. Tuck just held on, sobbing himself now.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't mean to upset you."

Valerie found her voice again. "I _can't_ be stuck here." She sounded
almost panicky. Tuck held on closer.

"I hope you weren't sent to help me, like you said," Tuck continued.
"'cause if you were it's my fault you're here. For getting so fucked
up in the first place."

"Isn't your fault. You're _not_ going to do the guilt-thing over this,
okay?" At Tuck's silence she insisted, "okay?"

"Okay." Meekly.

Valerie sighed again. "_If_ I am stuck here," she carried on, "Jane's
made an offer I'll probably accept."

"Oh?"

"Well, she's still owed a _big_ favor from someone in the Witness
Protection Program." Valerie waited for it to sink in.

"Ahhhh. She can do that?"

"Apparently. And Jane said she'd formally adopt me or something. I'd
get papers, I'd get the rest of my education, I'd get a life,
basically. _A_ life, at least."

"Sounds good."

Valerie made a doubtful noise. "I dunno. I'm hoping it won't come to
that. It's just, you know, there. In case. It makes a lot of sense I
guess. After all it's not like I could stay _here_. It wouldn't work,
Tuck," she added before he could protest. "Think about it."

Tuck gave in. "Well, at least we could still visit."

"Well, yeah. Except Jane said she might move to England." She
shrugged. "Maybe, she said. Of course," a mischievous note came back
into her voice, "you do realize that if you _do_ visit, you'll be
expected to behave like a lady and dress like you're going to a prom
all the time?"

"Of course," Tuck giggled, "just like you always did, I'm sure."

"Bah."

"Besides, you've got me curious. I want to meet her now."

"Be careful what you wish for," Valerie warned, jokingly.

"We _really_ should get up," Tuck muttered after a little while longer
enjoying the sun. "Mike said he'd come and pick us up at ten."

Valerie moaned. "What time is it now?"

"Dunno." Neither made a sufficient effort to find out. "But he knows
the code to the door, so he could come right in any moment and you
_know_ what he's gonna think if he sees us like this."

"You worry too much about what Mike thinks," Valerie admonished.

"And you don't?"

Valerie thought about that. "No," she said, simply. "Not _too_ much.
Come on," she started clambering over Tuck to get out of the bed,
"we're getting up. We gotta figure out a way to get me out of the
house anyway."

***

"Tuck," Valerie complained, "these need to be hanging up!"

"Oh, and where am I going to do that?" Tuck retorted. Valerie sighed
overdramatically and carried on rummaging. At least they'd been folded
carefully, like they weren't going to be worn again for a long time,
she realized.

"Jeez. Get a lock for the closet," Valerie answered back. She saw Tuck
pause. *Heh, he never thought of that,* she smiled to herself.

"Used to keep a lot of it at Rachel's, where I could change," Tuck
replied, as if in explanation. Valerie was already shaking her head
again, looking at the clothes available. Not as extreme as Jane, but:

"God Tuck, you're so _femme!_ I never noticed before."

"Eh?"

"Never mind," she decided on an outfit. "Wear something easy to get
out of. We're shopping for clothes today." *Same for me,* she decided.
"Gotta get you some _attitude_, girl," she added. "Hats. Have you got
_any_ hats?"

Tuck grinned.

***

Valerie froze as she was putting foundation on to watch in the mirror
in astonishment as Tuck proceeded to put _another_ set of clothes over
the ones he'd already dressed in. Then she rolled her eyes and carried
on what she was doing.

"Do you have _any_ idea what that looks like?" she said, casually.

"Huh. Gets me past the parentals. Speaking of which," Tuck pointed at
her. Valerie shrugged.

"Wait for Mike to get here," she said. "Two can smuggle a third out
easier." She sighed. "I should get a room or something, if I'm gonna
be around a few days." She had the money, thanks to Jane. The thought
depressed her. *Only a few days though,* she thought, planning to be
back at Jane's for Christmas if she was still here... *Oh shit the
_party!_* She suddenly remembered. The surprise Christmas party for
Jane being organized by the old boy-girl network. *Charlene and Teresa
are gonna be there, I've _got_ to get back!*

She couldn't stop herself thinking she wasn't going to.

***

Mike thought about it. "I let myself in," he said eventually, "and
your Mom was the only one to see me at all, and I just waved through
the doorway at her." He looked at the two of them. "I say we just walk
out. You," he pointed at Valerie, "came in with me, just no-one
noticed. Just don't let anyone get a good look at you."

"Sounds good to me," Valerie nodded.

"We ready then?" Nods all round.

So that's how they played it, and their luck held out, because no-one
accosted them on the way out. In the car, Tuck occupied the back seat,
sloughing off outer layers of clothing, while Valerie rode shotgun.
"How come you were so late anyway?" Valerie asked Mike. He hadn't
turned up until closer to eleven in the end.

"Guess," he replied. "I was away three nights. Folks were
_understandably_ a little put out," he understated. "Had to talk them
out of grounding me."

"You're such a smooth talker when you want to be," she teased. "Huh.
Even if I do get home, I'm going to be in _so_ much trouble. Hey, you
done back there yet?"

"Nearly!" Tuck seemed to be shoving something down his front. Valerie
rolled her eyes and looked out the windshield. *Bras,* she committed
to her cranial notepad. *Some that _fit_ me.* Tuck's were all of a
size to accommodate those damn forms and were useless to her, so she
was going without *until the first lingerie department,* she promised
herself.* Nice silk blouse, this,* she added, not entirely without
relevance.

"Okay," Tuck called from the back, "Parking lot."

***

As they got out of the car they both put on the matching hats that
went with the - until now hidden - matching clothes, and turned to
Mike as one. Looking up from locking the car, he yelped in surprise,
or horror, or something. Tuck wasn't sure, but the look on Mike's face
had definitely been worth it.

"Don't worry Mike," Tuck reassured him, "we won't take advantage."
They had both worn their hair so that the hats would cover it, just to
make things harder.

Mike had calmed down from the shock. After a few moments looking at
both of them, he nodded. "You've got pierced ears," he said to
Valerie.

They both turned slowly like marionettes to look at Tuck. "No," he
said. "Absolutely no. Oh no! No way!" Both of them started to grow
evil grins. In unison. "I _can't!_" he protested.

It was Mike that broke it first. "Come on mallbunnies," he invited.
Valerie took his left arm. After a moment Tuck took the right and they
hiked off towards the entrance.

"Why aren't all these people at _work?_ Tuck complained.

"Lunch break," Mike replied.

"Ooh yeah," chimed in Valerie. "I'm _starved!_" Tuck realized he was
hungry too.

"What am I gonna call you two anyway," Mike asked.

"We were talking about that earlier," Tuck replied.

"And?"

"Didn't decide," from Valerie.

"How about V-1 and V-2 then?" Tuck offered.

"Once ze rockets are up who cares vhere zey come down," sang Valerie
and Mike in unison, "zat's not my department, says Werner von Braun."
Tuck stuck his tongue out at them.

"Vx and Vy?" suggested Valerie.

"Vi and Emacs," Tuck shot back.

"Valhalla and Valinor."

"Something _helpful_ would be good," Mike reminded them.

"Well, I thought she should have Valerie," Tuck explained, "as it's
her real name now. I thought I'd borrow her middle name for the
duration, but she won't tell me what it is!"

"Mom and Dad chose it," Valerie told Mike.

"She says I should wait and see," said Tuck, sulking.

"Nah," Mike replied. "It's probably just embarrassing. Look what they
gave you the first time around."

"Yeah, guess so." Just then Tuck noticed Valerie leaning sideways and
whispering in Mike's ear. Mike's eyebrows went up, then he nodded,
resuming his usual blank-but-smug expression. "Hey!" Tuck cried.

"Shush," said Mike. "It's so's we can compare later. See if they
choose the same thing twice, you know?"

"_Assuming_ I even ask them to," Tuck sulked. "_Assuming_ lots of
stuff, _as_ it happens," he finished.

Mike said nothing.

***

"Ooh!" Valerie sang out almost as soon as they'd entered the mall, and
disengaged from Mike to dive into the Games shop. This was _not_ what
Tuck had in mind, and he hauled back as Mike tried to follow.

"What?" Mike asked.

"Mike! I can't go in there!" Tuck squeaked. "They _know_ me..."

Mike shrugged. "You gonna wait out here then?" he asked, unravelling
his own arm.

"Mike..."

"Tuck, the Angelic Player's Guide should be in by now. They said
they'd got it on order..."

Tuck sighed and let Mike go, then felt an irrational surge of jealousy
as he watched Mike follow after Valerie. It was so strong that he'd
actually closed half the remaining distance to the shop's opening
before stopping. He could see Mike and Valerie talking. Valerie looked
up just then, making eye contact, then moved decisively, putting down
whatever she had in her hand and coming out of the shop straight
towards Tuck.

"Come on silly," she breezed. "You wouldn't want Mike to feel _guilty_
would you?" She was teasing him now. Tuck tried to restrain a surge of
anger. Valerie's hand on his, suddenly, did the job a lot better.

"They know me in there," Tuck explained.

"Of course they do," laughed Valerie. "Look, there's Sebastian," she
waved at the tall one behind the counter, the one with the ponytail
and the nose-ring. He waved back, smiling. "Come on Val," she
admonished. "They won't bite and you know it."

"Only 'cause he'd get bits of me stuck in his tongue bar," Tuck
muttered, almost smiling despite himself. He saw Mike waving a copy of
the APG through the window like a trophy. Tuck took another
involuntary step forwards.

"Come on Val," Valerie repeated. "He said he wasn't going to get it
until you'd had a look, and he daren't put it down in case someone
else grabs it. And _straight_ after this we'll go get something to eat
'cause I really _am_ hungry."

*Oh what the hell,* Tuck finally gave in and went through the open
doorway, Valerie close behind. *Yeah, I know it's a set-up, but wasn't
this kind of the point?* It was strange, being in that shop as
Valerie. He felt a blush starting to rise, but just then Mike came
over with a "hey Val, look at this," and all three of them were soon
deep into it, flipping through and scanning quickly.

"Think we can use it?"

"Dunno. Probably too late to incorporate this stuff into the current
game. It's all for In Nomine, but it should be adaptable. I'll have to
think about it."

"Kinda different power-levels involved."

"Yeah. Thinking about that."

"Gonna get it anyway?"

Mike nodded. "Oh, and I need a favor?" *Uh-oh.* "They got a new GURPS
Magic edition and mine's literally falling apart." That much was true.
The inside of Mike's schoolbag was an extremely hostile environment
for the printed word. "XP in it for you if you get it," Mike bribed.

"Yeah, okay." They wandered back to that section to pick it up, and
from there carried on browsing. "Are people _looking_ at us?" Tuck
asked after a while.

"Two girls, _hot_ girls, in a games shop? Are you _kidding?_" Mike
replied.

"They're probably wondering if they've slipped into a parallel
dimension," Valerie added with a giggle. "Well, if I ever wanted a
group of people who weren't going to have a problem with that..."

"Hey, I don't have a problem with it," Mike piped up.

"You shop _here_, Mike," Valerie countered. She had him beat with that
one, so she flounced off triumphantly to the AD&D section, or wall, to
be more precise. Tuck giggled quietly, leafing idly through a shelf of
secondhand scenarios.

"_Are_ you okay with it?" Tuck asked Mike when Valerie was out of
earshot. They hadn't had a chance to talk in private before.

Mike nodded. "Yeah. I mean, you can't just go on sitting there
wibbling about how impossible it is when she's right there, you know?"
Tuck nodded at that. "And I'm sorry I doubted you before."

Tuck shrugged. "'S'okay. I would have."

"Besides, it's not like she's exactly like you. I mean it _would_ be
spooky if you two were identical, but there's all these differences."

"Like a twin, not a duplicate," Tuck offered.

"Yeah. Something like that. Except she's got a lot of your memories,
right?" Tuck nodded. "Isn't that weird?"

"A bit, yeah. But it's kind of nice though. Not having to _explain_
stuff. Not being able to bullshit either, of course, but... It's
nice." Tuck gave up pretending to look at stuff and leant back against
the shelving-unit. "I like having her around, Mike. I wish - I wish we
could find a way to make it work."

"She needs to go home, Val," Mike reminded him. "That's what she
wants."

"Yeah, but what if she _can't?_ We have _no_ idea how this happened,
where do we even _begin_ to figure out how to send her back?"

Mike sighed. "We'll think about that, okay? Later." Tuck saw his eyes
flicker at something behind him, and guessed that Valerie was on her
way back over.

"Come on guys," Valerie said breezily, "don't you know it's rude to
talk about people behind their backs?" She grinned at them both
knowingly. "I'm hungry, there's nothing new in TSR Country, let's blow
this joint and get some fooood!"

"Okay, we just got to get these then," Mike waved the APG and headed
off to the counter. Tuck hesitated, clutching the Magic book. *Oh
well, in for a penny,* he decided and followed Mike. *Maybe Seb won't
recognize me like this...*

"Oh hi!" Sebastian was smiling as Tuck approached the counter. *So
much for that then.* "Whatcha got?"

"Oh, just the new one of this," Tuck managed not to stammer, putting
the book down on the counter.

"Mmm, yeah," Sebastian glanced at it. "Not much that's new, just fixes
really."

"Yeah, I know." Tuck tried to breathe normally. "But Mike managed to
kill his old one so..."

"Know how it goes." Tuck handed over the cash and Sebastian put it
through the register. "I'm sorry," he admitted as he handed back the
change, "your name escapes me."

*Nicely done,* Tuck had to admit, blushing hugely, knowing that other
people were in earshot. "Val, er, Valerie."

"Well, hi again, Valerie," he stuck his hand out again. *Huh? Oh, to
shake.* Tuck took it and shook, timidly. "Good luck, y'hear?"

"Er, thanks," Tuck managed, blushing again almost before the previous
one had gone down, and fled the store.

Valerie was waiting outside with Mike. "Well?"

"You set me up!" Tuck tried to keep an anger running, but there wasn't
much fuel.

"Well duh," Valerie replied. "You needed it. Went okay didn't it?"
Mike was grinning too. *Bastard,* Tuck thought. *It's a damned
conspiracy's what it is.*

"Might not have done," Tuck tried indignation. It just came out
petulant.

"Nonsense. Seb's a sweetie and you know it. Come on, I'm HUNGRY!" She
grabbed Tuck's free arm and started marching off to the food court,
scooping up Mike with her other arm as she went.

"Guess we're along for the ride," Mike observed. Tuck managed to laugh
at that.

***

"No," she admitted, "school will _not_ be that easy." She wolfed down
some more fries. Tuck thought she must _really_ have been hungry, and
felt a bit of guilt about that. *She was kind of my guest after all.*
He'd bought the food they were eating though, at least. "Look," she
said when she next had a free mouth, "most people - _most_ people,
don't have a problem, okay? May take them a little to get used to the
idea; may have to _explain_ things a few times, y'know? But most
people basically don't give a shit. They're too wrapped up in their
own problems and you're just local color." She grinned.

"It's just the congenital assholes you got to worry about. But that's
not really different from now is it?" Tuck shook his head. "Same kind
of asshole. Some interesting personnel changes, and they get to learn
some _lovely_ new words, but basically the same kinda shit from the
same kind of asshole. Just be careful. Take precautions. Don't be
alone between classes, y'know?"

"We already do that," Mike said darkly.

"Well then. Mmm. Burgers." She took another bite. Tuck picked at his
nachos, disconsolately. Just listening to her talking about it was
getting him depressed again. *Is there really no other way?* He
wondered, and tried to think.

"You got to be more careful though," Valerie continued suddenly.
"You've got good friends, okay? Really good friends. But they're gonna
be targets too. That's the worst thing about it. When they realize
they can't get at you, they'll try and get at your friends. Try to cut
them away from you. George..." She stopped suddenly, collecting
herself. "George ended up in the hospital, defending me."

"What?" Mike demanded. Tuck just sat there, aghast.

"I can't do that!" he said. "Not if it'll put people in danger! I
can't _do_ that Val!"

"Well, yeah," she sighed. "I came closest to giving it up right there
too. _George_ said don't you dare. 'Don't you _dare_,' he said. 'Not
after this. You're not going to let the bastards win this one.'"

"Yeah but it hasn't happened here yet. It doesn't have to..."

"Val, listen to me. That was the worst thing, the _absolute worst_
thing that happened, okay? And George is still a friend. They couldn't
touch that. Just consider yourselves forewarned. Your friends are
targets too, so be careful. George got hot-headed, he said it himself.
He went in without backup when strategic withdrawal was the right
thing to do." She took some more fries. Tuck and Mike looked at each
other, thinking.

"Look," Valerie carried on, "it's not as if it was just us against the
whole school, you know? It was us against a few assholes who really
aren't that bright to begin with. Isolation and containment, right?
Situation under control. We dealt with 'em. You can deal too.

"Then there's the _other_ kind of asshole. The grown-up kind.
Questions from the school board asking whether I was a suitable
student. Religious-Right types threatening to take their own kids out
of school if I stayed, that kind of crap."

Tuck put his head in his hands. "What did you do?" Mike asked.

"Turns out _we_ didn't have to do anything, almost," Valerie replied.
"You guys got Dobson for Principal this year?" They nodded. "Wasn't
sure if Nickerson had been dealt with here."

"Oh yeah," Mike confirmed, "He had to go."

"Cool. 'Cause he - Dobson I mean - really came through. It was
amazing. I mean, when the fundies were threatening to take their kids
out, he just kind of went 'go ahead', you know? 'If you keep harassing
one of my top students I'd have to suspend your kids anyway.' Took the
wind right out. He really went out on a limb, I heard. I mean, he made
promises to the board based on _my_ behavior."

"Shit!"

"Yeah. And then he gave this talk, to the parents and all. I wasn't
there, but Mom and Dad were impressed, I mean _they_ were impressed,
right? Said he'd obviously really done his research. So there was this
talk, and a QA afterwards, and at the end he held a vote, which was
kinda sneaky 'cause he hadn't said anything about that beforehand, but
it was just an informal raise-your-hands type thing apparently. And
the vote was overwhelmingly, and I mean _overwhelmingly_ in favor of
me staying."

"Wow."

"Yeah," she nodded. "That really felt good actually."

"He was probably waiting to see how it went before deciding to do the
vote," Mike mentioned.

"Yeah probably, but it's still good that it went that well, right? I
just thought it was amazing, that Dobson of all people should turn out
so cool about it all."

Tuck grinned. "I _have_ something on Dobson."

"Yeah? Well I don't," Valerie replied. "What?"

"Yeah, what?" Mike joined in.

"Ahhht! You both know the rules." Valerie pouted. "Doesn't matter
anyway. It's nice to know I didn't need it, I guess."

"Yeah, guess so. I'm just saying, it's doable, right? It's not the
automatic death sentence I _know_ you're thinking it would be. There's
some nasty stuff, yeah, but there's also some _really_ nice surprises
along the way."

"Yeah?"

"Let's just say, not all the asshole parents have asshole kids, and
not all the asshole kids have asshole parents?" She shrugged. "It's
probably all going to be different for you anyway. I mean, the
starting-conditions are way different now. Chaos applies. I'm just
saying, it's doable, okay? Just keep your wits about you, but keep an
open mind as well."

Tuck nodded.

"Hey," Mike agreed, "open minds are the main advantage we've got,
right?" Valerie chuckled at that.

***
---

Next stop was a lingerie department. Valerie declared herself in need
of basic supplies, nothing fancy. Panties, bras, pantyhose. It brought
Tuck's attention to the fact that Valerie didn't wear any forms; even
though he'd seen that of course, it just hadn't registered before now.
It wasn't like she had any more up top than he did; she just
considered it enough, obviously.

"Look, they _sell_ my bra size in nonspecialist stores," she explained
as she modelled. "I reckon by definition that's normal enough. I still
got 'em for special occasions," she added, pointing at Tuck's chest
and grinning. "You know, when you want to make an _impression?_ I just
got fed up with them for everyday. It's not me, you know?"

Tuck supposed he did.

"Come on then," she said, taking the bra off right there outside the
changing-room stalls, and tossing it at him so he had to catch it or
it would have landed on his face. "You try it." She disappeared back
in the stall.

"Me?" he gulped.

"You don't need 'em any more than I do," she called through the
curtain. "It's another crutch."

"_Maybe_ I just like the _shape!_" Tuck protested. "That's allowed
isn't it?"

Valerie re-emerged, wearing a different bra. "Are you saying you don't
like my shape?" She posed pointing an imaginary gun at him, making him
laugh, then frowned and took that bra off too, heading back into the
stall as she did so. "Pinches," she explained as she went. "Happiness
is a bra that _fits_. Hey, we should get you a proper fitting. You
should at least try and see what it _looks_ like," she called.

"I _can_ see what it looks like," Tuck reminded her, just as she was
coming out again.

"And?"

He looked. "It looks okay," he admitted.

"Oh I _live_ for your approval," she answered sarcastically. "Hmm.
Think I'll wear this one out. And I want that one," she pointed to the
one Tuck was still holding, "and a couple of the others. They'll do me
for a while. You sure you don't want to try?"

Tuck nodded. "I just feel more comfortable." Valerie shrugged and
started putting her blouse back on.

"You'll have these ones anyway, when I'm gone," she said. "Come on,
Mike'll be getting bored out there among the panties with nothing to
do."

***

"No. Absolutely not." They were outside the piercing parlor.

"Oh come on Val," teased Valerie. "It only hurts for a moment and then
it's over. You don't even see any blood."

"Like _that's_ the point," Tuck protested.

"I will if you will," Mike said then, surprising them both.

"What?"

"I'll even go first, how's that?"

"Isn't there some gay-man's code about earrings or something?" Valerie
asked.

"Oh Val," Mike laughed, "that's _so_ 1980s."

"Yeah but come on Mike," Tuck said, "your parents'll go ballistic if
you... Hell, _my_ parents will go ballistic, yours are gonna hit
escape velocity."

Mike grinned. He could be infuriating when he was like this.

"You're serious aren't you," Valerie said. Mike nodded.

"Sure. Been sorta thinking about it for a while anyway."

"Mike you don't have to do this!"

"Didja know you can actually get those Bajoran ear-pieces?"

"Mike!"

"Come on Tu-Val, stop being such a prude," Mike giggled. "It'll be
cool, trust me." At that he turned away and went into the shop, so
Tuck had to follow him, or he knew Mike would go right ahead with it
anyway. He realized then they were standing in a line for the
counter.

"I can't believe there's actually a _line_," Mike was saying, annoyed
at the absorption of energy.

"You going for both ears or just the one?" Valerie asked him.

Mike thought about it. "I'll have the same number as Val, but maybe
both on the same ear or something?" He grinned. "Or somewhere else."

"Stick with just the ears for today Mike," Valerie suggested. Mike
nodded.

"Seriously Mike, you don't have to do this," Tuck said again. "Look,
I'll get my damn ears pierced, okay? You don't have to do it as well."

Mike just took both Tuck's hands, right there, standing in line, and
they stood, heads almost together. The line of people just faded out,
along with other-Valerie, the shop, the mall. They were back in their
place. A place of stillness and perfect understanding. *This one
little thing I can do _with_ you, my brother-sister. This one _little_
step I can take along your path.* Tuck nodded, and they parted.
"Uh-oh," Mike said, almost immediately. "She's gone." Tuck looked
around quickly, wondering for a moment if that had been some sort of
trigger to send her home. He doubted it. He thought he knew what it
was. "I'll hold our place," Mike suggested, "you go look for her. She
won't have gone far."

"Two minutes," Tuck replied and moved off.

Mike was right, he didn't have to go far. Valerie was just outside the
shop, but hidden round the corner where she'd sat on the floor to cry.
He knelt beside her to wait, but this time didn't take his eyes off
her. "Please don't run off like that," he said, knowing it sounded
lame. She looked at him.

"What am I going to do without him?" She asked suddenly. Tuck sighed.

"_If_ it comes to that, you'll have us," he promised, and held her.
"You'll have us," he repeated. Valerie just cried.

After about a minute she shifted, signalling she was done. "Thanks,"
she said, wetly. "Oh God, I must look a mess."

Tuck smiled grimly. "It's pretty bad," he agreed, and got a tissue out
of his purse, started dabbing at her face. "No," he changed his mind.
"Better off just starting over." He stuffed the tissue away and got
out the cleansing wipes.

"That bad, huh?"

"Yeah, that bad." He made short work of most of the make-up she had
on. She'd gone lighter than he tended to, even now. "We'll re-do it in
a restroom when you're feeling better. Or should I pull Mike out of
that line?" He grinned.

"No! Don't you dare, you don't get out of it that easily. Go back in
there, I'll be in _shortly_." Tuck nodded. "Just leave me another
wipe." Tuck handed her another wipe and stood up.

Mike had reached the front of the line, and actually given up two
places to people behind him, Tuck saw when he returned. "There was I
thinking you two had eloped," he grinned at Tuck. Tuck hit him.

"She'll be in in a moment," he replied. He'd tell Mike what he'd
promised _later_, he decided. Their turn was up.

They were led further back into the shop and put into two adjacent
chairs. *Guess that makes sense,* Tuck thought. *They probably have
people doing this in pairs all the time, egging each other on.*

"What'll it be then?" The voice, male, was friendly but sounded a bit
strange, like he had a speech impediment. It came from the large bald
man washing his hands at the sink. Tuck looked up and gasped out loud.
The guy's face was _full_ of metal. He cracked a wide, metallic grin.
Mike, who had seen him coming, was clearly enjoying himself at the
expense of Tuck's reaction. "My name's Paul, by the way," he added. He
didn't offer to shake hands, having just washed them, Tuck supposed.

"Uh, just the ears I guess," Tuck managed. "Just the ears. That's it.
Nothing more. Just the ears."

"In one ear and out the other?" he grinned at them. Tuck gulped.

"Um. One in each earlobe please?"

Paul made a disappointed noise and spoke to the ceiling. "_Just_ the
ears, she says. I am totally unappreciated in my time. You too I
suppose," he added towards Mike. Mike nodded. "Okay, who's first?"

Mike raised his hand, gingerly. Just then Valerie showed up, and
actually took a step back at the sight of Paul as he busied himself
getting the gun ready. "You want plain studs?"

"Er, what's the choice?" Mike asked. Paul picked up a sample tray and
showed it to him.

"Think about it. You'll need to keep them in for four to six weeks at
_least_ before you can take them out and put something else in." Mike
nodded and pointed. "The black ones?"

"Yeah," Mike said, wearing his if-we're-gonna-do-it-let's-_do_-it
grin.

"Okay. And you Miss?"

Tuck looked. "Do you have anything non-allergenic?"

"Sure. Gold, or titanium?"

"Um," Tuck hesitated. "The gold ones then?"

Paul nodded and went to put on latex gloves and load up the gun. He
returned to Mike's chair.

"You sure now?" Mike nodded. "Which one first?" Mike pointed at his
left ear. Paul dabbed at it with antiseptic lotion and made a little
mark with a purple marker pen. Paul bent towards Mike and positioned
the gun, there was a sharp, loud click and it was done. Paul put the
gun aside, shooed Mike's hand away and dabbed at his ear with a Q-tip.
He picked up his gun again.

"Her next," Mike said, then.

"Taking turns, eh?" Paul asked, grinning. Mike just nodded. It was
Tuck's turn to enjoy Mike's discomfiture. It wasn't often he got to
see Mike intimidated by anyone.

"I _should_ stop and wash up between treating each of you, you know,"
Paul said.

"It's okay," Mike explained blithely, "we share antibodies anyway."

Paul stared long at him, raising an eyebrow laden with metal. "That's
more than I needed to hear, kid." Mike went redder than Tuck had ever
seen him. Valerie was hard-pressed to keep her feet under her with
laughing.

"That - didn't come out the right way," he said meekly. Valerie fell
over.

"Mike," Tuck suggested, laughing, "Mike, if you're in a hole, stop
digging? Please?" Mike put his head in his hands.

"You ready then?" Paul asked. Tuck nodded. "You sure about this?" He
nodded again. "Okay."

Tuck waited, nervously, while his ear was daubed, then there was a
loud pop and it was done. The pain was fading almost before he had
registered it. The post-piercing ministrations to his ear felt somehow
distant. *I've done it now,* he thought, dimly. Paul was already
preparing Mike for his second.

Less than a minute later they were all done. "Any more for any more?"
asked Paul, brandishing the gun. Mike actually seemed to be
considering it; seeing that, Valerie stepped in.

"No, Mike. Don't start the machismo thing." She bent close so they
could both see the old healing piercings she had in each ear. "Trust
me, you _will_ change your mind about it," she said directly to Tuck.

"Once you start down the dark path," Paul added, the store lights
glinting off the metal in his face, "forever will it dominate your
destiny." Tuck could swear his mouth _clanked_ as he spoke.

"Er, yeah, okay, that's it." Mike said.

"Okay then, you're done," Paul finished. "Get some cleaning-fluid and
Q-tips on the way out, they'll give you the right stuff. It's included
in the price you paid. Clean the area and turn the studs twice a day
for four-to-six weeks, then you can start wearing other things.
There's an after-care leaflet in with the cleaning-fluid."

Tuck and Mike nodded, their ears throbbing. Tuck looked at Mike. Mike
had a half-desperate look on his face, like his brain had finally
caught up with what he was doing. Valerie grinned at them both.

***

"Stop fiddling with it Mike!"

Mike didn't bother looking up to see which one of them said it. "It
itches."

"I _know_ it itches. Leave it alone."

"Man I'm gonna get _killed..._" He looked up then, to see both of them
giving him such a _look_. "What?"

***

Valerie decided she was satisfied with the day's work, then grinned at
herself. *That almost sounded like Jane thinking,* she thought. Having
her ears pierced seemed to have worked wonders for Tuck's attitude,
though she recognized it as a kind of jollied-up fatalism. Okay, she'd
argued a bit about the braid, she smiled, but had fought less than
she'd expected over the cargo pants and Doc Martens.

*Yes, she's coming on nicely,* she thought, noting without surprise
the pronoun change in her thoughts. *Making some room for the geek in
the girl.*

"Valerie?" Someone called from ahead. She looked up and saw - *oh no*
- the Pack. All of it, by the looks of it. Including Debbie.

"Sabrina!" Tuck was running forwards before Valerie could react.
*Hasn't she seen Debbie?* Valerie wondered. *Got the impression they
weren't on speaking terms.* "They're turning me into a tomboy! You're
the only one who can save me!"

Valerie didn't wait around. She stepped aside naturally into the
oncoming flow of shoppers and turned to drift away with them, hoping
she'd done so before her presence had been registered. She _didn't_
need this. Behind her, receding, she heard Jill laughing out loud,
helplessly. She skipped to another shopper-flow that would bring her
closer to the restrooms where she planned to hide out for a while and
catch her thoughts.

***

Tuck was just recovering his wits after belatedly noticing Debbie
amongst the rest of them, when he noticed someone missing. *Not
again,* he moaned inwardly. He scanned around quickly, found only
Mike, hanging back slightly.

<Restroom> Mike signed, and pointed. *Glad _someone's_ on the ball
today,* Tuck thought and ran off in that direction, almost tripping at
the unaccustomed weight of the DMs, until he found a loping gait that
kind of worked.

***

Debbie sighed as Valerie had run off practically at the sight of her.
This was getting tiresome.

"Guess when you gotta go..." Kim said after Valerie's retreating back.

"That's it," Debbie decided, "I have had enough of this." She moved
off at a quick walk towards the restrooms.

"Where are you going?" Kathy demanded, easily catching up with her.

"To have a _talk_," Debbie explained, not slowing. "I _know_, Kathy.
I've been as bad as her about this, but it's been half a year. It must
be driving you guys crazy keeping us apart. We can at least learn to
be civil to each other for your sakes, don't you agree?"

Kathy hung back, making Debbie pause. "Well?" she asked, "Aren't you
going to come and protect the little squirt in case I go psycho?"

"It's not like that," Kathy protested, looking hurt.

Debbie sighed, and replied more gently. "Yes it is, but I'm not saying
you were wrong, okay?" She looked at Kathy, looking unhappy. "Look,
come along, please? It probably is a good idea you being there,
thinking about it. But I'm not _planning_ to hurt him, okay? Her, I
mean."

Kathy nodded, and caught up in a couple of long strides.

Debbie pushed open the restroom door. It was quiet inside, which was a
small mercy. She was about to call Valerie's name when she heard her
voice, coming from a cubicle. "No, I _can't_ just go out and meet
them. _Think_ about it Valerie - It's all right, they'll be cool - No,
they'll freak - Mike didn't freak - Mike halfway believes this stuff
anyway. Look, I can't be around _her_, okay?"

Debbie and Kathy slowly made their way through the restroom, trying to
move quietly. *She's finally flipped then,* Debbie was thinking.
*She's lost it completely.*

"Why not? I thought you - Look, _Valerie_, you two may have split up
months ago, but I was _with_ her, _Friday night_, okay? I cooked
breakfast before leaving for Sheila's. _Think_ about it!" There was a
single muffled sob. Debbie looked at Kathy, worriedly. Kathy mouthed
_what?_ Debbie shrugged. "What if I go out there and make nice and
then forget that _she's not the right one?_"

Debbie could stand it no more. The cubicle the voice was coming from
was pushed to, but not locked, so she reached forwards and pushed it
open.

There was Valerie, sitting on the toilet lid, just looking up in
surprise. She had black hair, longer, and was dressed in smart
casuals. And there was Valerie, kneeling by her, looking round with an
identical look on her face. _That_ one was the one they'd greeted a
few minutes earlier. The one with the braid and the cargo pants.
Debbie found she couldn't move. Her brain wasn't working.

"Shit," the dark-haired one said simply, and got up and strode
straight out of the cubicle. She brushed past Debbie as she did so,
and Debbie felt a sudden tingle as she did so. *Pheremones,* she
figured, feeling embarrassed about the way her body responded
immediately after all that time.

"Wait Val!" the other one called, getting up in one agile motion, but
the first was already leaving the restroom. Valerie, the one
remaining, just slumped onto the toilet lid herself.

Kathy found her voice first. "Who the _hell_ was that?" Valerie just
keened over and banged her head against the cubicle wall a couple of
times, making it rattle. "Who _was_ that?" she demanded again, more
insistently.

"Who did it _look_ like," Valerie snapped back, then sighed. "I'm
sorry. I'm having a _really_ strange week, okay?"

"I can believe it," Debbie managed to say, with a level voice. Valerie
smiled back, quickly; she was embarrassed, Debbie reckoned.

"Look Debs, I wasn't running away from you back there, okay? I just -
she keeps panicking and running off into the crowd. I need to go after
her," she added, standing and moving out of the cubicle.

"Not before you explain what's going on!" Kathy protested, stopping
her with an arm that might as well have been an iron bar.

"Yes, Kathy. _Before._" Tuck shot back. "I've got to find her. Let me
go!" Kathy didn't budge. "Look, I'm not bailing. We'll meet back here,
okay? Then I can tell you all at once."

"Kathy," Debbie interrupted, "let her go." Kathy looked at her. "She
said she'll come back, so she will. Let her go, Kathy." Kathy sighed
and released Valerie.

Valerie took off.

"You really think so?" Kathy asked her, as the restroom door swung
shut. "Va-Tuck's been acting pretty strange lately."

"From what we've just seen, I think he might have had good reason!"

Just then the rest of the Pack burst in, full of questions.

***

They were only waiting for about ten minutes when Valerie and Mike
returned, with - Valerie. The dark-haired one was looking downcast and
resigned, Debbie thought, and wouldn't meet her eyes. The two Valeries
were holding hands, she noticed. *This is going to have to be a
_really_ good explanation,* Debbie decided.

"Well, I'm starved," said Mike, by way of suggestion. There was
general agreement all round. Milling around in the path of the
constant stream of shoppers wasn't a good place for this sort of
conversation.

"Mike, what happened to your face?" Kim asked suddenly, reaching
reflexively towards the new scar.

Mike turned his face away, avoiding the touch. "Nothing," he muttered.

***

"Table for - uh - can you do ten?" Debbie asked. *How do these things
always get so big?* She guessed she'd have to put this on the credit
card.

"Sure!" Cheesy smile. "Be about five minutes?"

Debbie nodded. They stood around not saying much. She thought perhaps
the other Valerie had brightened somewhat, and was looking around her
now rather than at her shoes, but still not directly at Debbie. Debbie
took a moment and reviewed what she could remember of that
conversation she'd overheard in the restroom. With two people
involved, it made more sense. But not much. This new Valerie seemed to
think they were still in a relationship? But *She's not the right
one?*

It would have to wait for the explanation, she decided.

After a subjective age they were taken in and seated. There was a bit
of a jumble around the table and Debbie found herself sat opposite
other-Valerie, as she was starting to think of her. She thought it was
probably accidental, but with the Pack you could never be sure of such
things. Our-Valerie stayed next to other-Valerie, and they kept hold
of each other's hands under the table, she could tell. People busied
themselves with menus, so they could order and get left in peace for a
while. Mike's idea, though with Mike it might just mean he wanted his
food sooner. There seemed to be something different about Mike...

"You've pierced your ears!" she cried out suddenly, pointing at Mike.

"_That's_ what it was," Kim agreed. "I couldn't figure out what was
different."

That turned the conversation for a while.

"I had to or _she_ wouldn't do it!" Mike protested, pointing at
Valerie. Attention swung back to that end of the table.

"You did that today?" Jill asked. Valerie just nodded.

"Place here in the mall, downstairs."

"Oh, you met Paul then?" Jill grinned. Valerie nodded again, slowly.
Jill laughed.

"I think it's so _sweet_ you did that for Val," Sabrina was saying
down at the other end, teasing Mike, and reaching over to tousle his
hair, then twisting deftly presumably to avoid a kick under the table.

"Well at least they're a good conversation-starter," Mike observed.

"Are you guys ready to order?" Came a friendly voice from next to the
table. "Or shall I come back later?" Cheesy smile.

"I'm ready!" Mike yelled predictably. So, it turned out, was everyone
else. The orders were taken, and attention turned back to Valerie.

"Okay, Val," Kathy said, with authority. "Dish."

Valerie sighed. "Okay. Um. Look, this is kind of weird, okay? Um..."

"Start by telling us who your new - friend is?"

"My name's Valerie Tucker," the other Valerie said into the quiet.

"And until about seven or eight months ago," Valerie continued, "we
were the same person." Valerie looked at the blank faces around the
table. "Yeah, I know." Valerie sighed.

Debbie listened, along with the rest of them, as Valerie spoke. It was
somewhere between "uncollapsed probability waveform" and "fractally
dimented universe" and somehow something concerning a cat in a box
that she realised she'd lost track. She didn't think she was the only
one, but to her surprise it was Mike that rescued them.

"Tu - Val, sorry. You're even losing _me_ with this, and I know it all
already."

"Well, where would _you_ begin, smartass?"

"Executive summary?" Debbie quipped.

"I'm from an alternate reality," the other Valerie replied. "We
think."

"Oh, like in Sliders?" Jill perked up.

Valerie fell forwards inexorably until her head impacted the table.

"What? I have brothers, okay?"

"Yes, Jill, like Sliders. Why didn't I just say that in the first
place?" Valerie was speaking into the table-top.

"Because it sounds too stupid to say straight out?" her counterpart
suggested. "I seem to have lost my timer," she added to Jill.

"So you're saying this is _you_, from another dimension?" Jill
persisted. Valerie nodded, sitting up. "So you just need an
Einstein-Rosen bridge right?" she continued, betraying far more
knowledge of Sliders, Debbie thought, than could be explained by just
having _brothers_.

"Oh sure. We'll just knock one up in the basement out of spare
computer parts. Jill, this is a _theory!_ It's - it's a thought
experiment. It's the kind of joke quantum physicists and cosmologists
tell each other at parties, okay? It's one of the oldest
science-fiction cliches going! No-one really believes they exist, and
if they do exist there'd be no way to move whole human beings between
them!"

"But here she is," Debbie interjected. Valerie nodded.

"Here she is," Valerie nodded, "and we have _no_ idea how she got
here, and _no_ idea if she can go home again or whether she's stuck
here. But she is _definitely_ here." She squeezed Valerie's hand
again, and smiled at her. "And we can either say 'this is impossible,
she can't be here so I'll ignore her,' or we can say 'okay, we're
wrong about what we thought was impossible because she clearly _is_
here and we've just got to get _on_ with that.' And this alternate
realities thing may not even be _close_ to what's really happening,
but it makes more sense than anything else right now."

"Aren't there any other possible explanations?" Kathy asked.

Valerie shrugged. Mike spoke up. "Messenger from God, spirit guide,
demonic possession... Supernatural stuff like that."

"Not that I'm aware of," other-Valerie added to that.

"Well, how come your hair's black?" Kathy persisted.

"Got it colored back in the summer," other-Valerie replied, with a
private grin at the memory.

"Secret military cloning experiment gone wrong," Mike was continuing,
"UFOs, replicants with gifted memories..."

"Mike," interrupted Kim, "shut up."

"No," other-Valerie said. "That's the point. That's how far-out weird
this all is, okay? The alternate realities thing isn't any less far
out than any of those - other ideas. It's just - less likely to make
me go nuts thinking about it," she admitted.

"It's the best approximation we have," Valerie nodded. "It's a working
theory. I say we go with it unless we get new data."

"Okay," Debbie slipped into the executive thing, making a call. "We go
with that. But you say she's you, how do you know that?"

Valerie sighed. "You can see she looks and sounds like me? Well, we've
checked, and she's physically _identical_ to me, except for little
stuff over the last seven months."

"Like you losing weight, and she's got fitter," Kathy observed.

Valerie looked surprised for a moment. "Uh, yeah, see what you mean.
Have I lost weight?" she asked, surprised. Everyone round the table
nodded.

"Yeah," Kathy confirmed. "A _lot_ of weight."

Valerie frowned in thought for a while. "Anyway," she continued
eventually, "we have the same _memories_ up to about seven months
ago..."

"What happened seven months ago?"

"My parents," the other Valerie said, "decided it would be a great
idea to send me to boot camp, after that little escapade in April."
There were gasps drawn in all round the table.

"Whereas _mine_," Valerie continued, "asked my Uncle Lanier about the
idea and he told them where to stick it. That's as close as we can
make out to where it started."

"You went to boot camp?" Kathy asked sympathetically. The
other-Valerie grinned suddenly. It was a grin they were all familiar
with.

"Never got there."

"It's a long story," Valerie said, "and if you think what _I_ just
told you was unbelievable, wait'll you hear it. OW!" she yelped
suddenly at an under-table kick from her double. "Anyway, point is, a
decision was made and things started happening differently than they
did for us. By now, things are a _lot_ different."

"What sort of differences?" Jill asked.

"Well, for instance, you know when she just said her name is Valerie
Tucker?"

"It really is," finished the other Valerie. "That's my _legal_ name
now." There was a collective 'ahh' around the table as the
implications of that sank in.

"You two must have had a lot to talk about," Kathy observed. Both
Valeries nodded their heads in unison.

"You could say that, yeah," other-Valerie said. Into the quiet that
followed, the starters arrived, and dealing with that occupied
everyone's attention for a while.

"There's getting to be far too many Valeries around here," Sabrina
muttered softly. A giggle rippled around the table.

"Yeah, we'll have to call you Bruce or it'll get confusing," Mike
added. He was grinning again.

"Val," Sabrina said suddenly, pointing at Valerie, "and Valerie," she
finished, pointing at other-Valerie. "Can we manage that? That okay
with you two?"

Val and Valerie nodded. There was general agreement, and not a few
relieved looks.

Then people were eating, and thinking, so there wasn't much talking
going on, and what there was was mostly directed at Val.

Debbie had been doing her own thinking, remembering the overheard
conversation in the restroom. She studied other-Valerie - _just_
Valerie, she corrected herself, as she ate, noticing the delicacy with
which she did so compared to Val, even though Val was hardly
male-gross. She was still avoiding Debbie's eyes.

Seeing something, Debbie leant forwards without thinking to take one
of Valerie's necklaces in her fingers to look more closely in the
light. It was the half-pendant. She was surprised out of her thoughts
by Valerie's hand covering her own, making her glance up straight into
those clear blue eyes. It was as if a small electric shock had gone
through her. She felt her color rising. She knew arousal when she felt
it and actually gasped in surprise.

The moment passed, and Valerie dropped her hand, and her eyes. "I'm
sorry," she said.

Debbie stayed motionless for a moment, until she could breathe again,
and she brought her hand back to her side of the table. "No, it's all
right," she replied. *Damn it I thought I was _over_ him. Her.* She
turned off her internal monologue for a while, it didn't have anything
useful to say. "We're still together then, in your - where you come
from?" Valerie just nodded. "How did we do it?"

Valerie seemed to be thinking about it, then met her eyes again, which
made Debbie's heart jump again. "I think - I learned to say no to you.
And you learned to trust me. Um, she did, rather."

"I _did..._" She stopped, on the start of an indignant response, and
smiled apologetically. "I guess that didn't happen overnight." Valerie
shook her head, grinning.

They ate for a little while in silence.

"Don't blame yourself for what happened to - Val," Valerie added,
suddenly.

"Sorry?"

"Just - it wasn't your fault, okay? You didn't cause the - medical
situation."

Debbie just looked at her for a moment. "I know that," she said
softly. At the same time something seemed to unclench inside her.
Valerie was nodding.

"Up here," Valerie pointed at her head, "you know it. In here," to her
chest, "you've doubted."

Debbie nodded. "I did have a thought actually. I thought maybe it was
the glue for the forms, you know? Maybe it had estrogen in it, was
acting like a HRT patch or something."

"Sounds unlikely. Wouldn't have altered my chromosomes anyway, unless
it was lethally radioactive."

"Well, yeah, I checked, and no. When did _you_ get so perceptive
anyway?" She teased.

Valerie just smiled. "About the time I realized I'd been missing stuff
that was going on all around me? Important stuff? Figured it was time
to start paying attention to people. Besides, I've known you a lot
longer than Val has."

"Guess you have at that."

"We've been this way since we were born," Valerie was continuing. "It
was chance you came along just before it became obvious. What you did
- what you started - gave us choices we wouldn't otherwise have
thought about." She smiled wryly, "I don't know, maybe I'd have
figured it out on my own eventually. I think it would have taken a lot
longer though."

Debbie shrugged, feeling embarrassed by the compliments. "Bet she
misses using her boyfriend as a model for the demos," she said, trying
to lighten the moment. "Your Debbie I mean."

"Oh," Valerie caught the cue, "she found another willing victim for
that. Well, I say _willing..._" They laughed.

"Who?" Valerie had just put something in her mouth, so in answer she
merely angled her head towards the end of the table. "Mike?" she
almost spluttered. "_Mike?!_"

"What?" Mike called back.

"Nothing," Debbie replied, looking at him anew, thinking.

"Hey!" Val interrupted. "Leave Mike alone! Whatever you're thinking,
he doesn't deserve it."

"Who said I'm thinking anything?" Debbie asked innocently. _Both_ of
them just looked askance at her, at once, in _exactly_ the same
manner. She got a rush of goose-bumps.

"I know that look, okay?" Val had a grin on her face, so she guessed
she wasn't mad at her or anything. "To my cost, I might add." *Could
it be we're actually tolerating each other's company?* She wondered.
She glanced back at Valerie, who wore an identical grin.

"I was out of town," Valerie explained. "He was in a weakened state
and you took advantage." Debbie nodded, smiling herself now. Just then
she heard the familiar snap of Sabrina's omnipresent cellphone
shutting. *Who was she calling? We're all here...*

"Everyone!" Sabrina announced. "Emergency sleepover, my place,
tonight?"

"Oh _man!_" Mike complained.

"Oh come on Mike," Sabrina retorted. "We've _missed_ Val, okay? _And_
we need to check out her twin sister too."

"Pleeeease?" begged Pam and Amanda together, getting a nice dissonance
going.

"Okay, okay!" Mike gave in. "I'll sit at home in my lonely geek bed
and read my new gaming books."

"Oh?" Jill perked up. "Whatcha got?" Mike bent to pluck the books out
of his shopping bags and passed them over the table to Jill.

"Anyway, Mike," teased Sabrina, "you can come if you want to. You know
the rules."

Mike looked at her. It was a _very_ old-fashioned look, Debbie
thought. "I'll sit at home," he repeated slowly, "and read my books."

"You're a prince, Mike," Sabrina smiled sweetly. Like she meant it.

"Mike," Val called. "Tomorrow, okay? We'll do something tomorrow."
Mike nodded.

"Who'll be coming?" Mike asked pointedly.

"_Me_ of course," Val smiled. Mike grinned back.

"Good answer. You haven't forgotten what you're supposed to be doing
tonight have you?"

Val looked blank for a moment, then remembrance crashed back in. "Oh
shit, yeah." She looked round at the questioning faces. "I've decided
to stop taking those shots," she started to explain.

"Oh thank God," Kathy let slip suddenly. Val looked at her, then at
the rest of the table and the identical expressions arrayed there.

"Did _everyone_ think they were a bad idea except me?" Everyone
nodded. "Well why the hell didn't you _say_ something?" Val burst out
in exasperation, more than a little pissed off.

"You seemed to want it so much," Kim answered. "We thought - we
thought it would be interfering if we said anything."

"They weren't doing you _any_ good," Kathy continued.

"I thought we were supposed to look out for each other and _tell_ each
other if we're about to do something stupid?" Val complained,
unmollified.

"Thing is," Pam added, "we weren't sure if we were thinking that more
because we didn't want to lose Val, than because it really wasn't
right for you."

"We didn't want to pressure you..."

"Like there wasn't a ton of pressure the _other_ way?" Val muttered.
"Yeah, well," she sighed, accepting the explanation, "I figured it out
eventually, I guess. With help." She smiled at Mike and squeezed
Valerie's hand again. "But the next one's due tomorrow and I gotta
tell my parents I'm not doing it."

There was silence round the table for a moment. The waiting staff took
that as their cue to come and clear away the starters. No-one said
anything while this was going on.

"They're gonna want to know why," Kathy said when they had been left
alone again. "Are you planning to tell them the rest of it?"

Val shook her head. "Not tonight, for sure."

"Ever?"

Val squeezed the Valerie's hand again, and looked at her for a moment.

"I don't know yet," she admitted. "It's still an awful big step."

"What'll you tell them then?"

Val sighed. "The truth. They made me ill, they were driving me nuts,
they kept giving me rage and panic attacks. And I was okay before I
started taking them."

"You think that'll be enough?" Jill asked.

The main course arrived.

***

"Okay guys," Debbie called as they collected outside the restaurant.
"See some of you tomorrow I guess."

"Debbie, wait!" Sabrina called back and ran over. "Aren't you coming
tonight?"

The question surprised Debbie. "I didn't think - you'll have Val over
right?"

"Yeah, but, you two have been cool today, haven't you? I thought..."

Debbie sighed. "I don't know, Sabrina."

"Look," Sabrina suggested, "I'll ask Val. If she's okay to try it, are
you?"

"Um, guess so..."

"Hold that thought then!" Sabrina disappeared back towards where
Valerie - both of them - were standing chatting to Kathy about
something. They were still linking arms, Debbie noticed. Like they
were hanging on to each other in case one should fall. *Hope you're
not going to get too used to her being around,* she wished. Sabrina
was talking to Val now, who looked up, then said something softly to
Valerie, unlinked arms and came over. She stopped just out of arms
length, suddenly diffident, like she didn't know what to do with her
hands, until she just stuffed them into her deep pockets. That
confused Debbie for a moment. That was such a _Tuck_ thing to do, but
at the same time not at all unfeminine, now.

"We should get over this," Val said, uncertainly. Debbie nodded. "I
mean. Our friends... They've put up with a _lot_. It's not fair on
them."

"That's true," she agreed.

Valerie kicked her booted feet a little in doubt, not taking her hands
out of her pockets. "Sabrina really wants you to come, and I'm pretty
sure the others would love it too. So, I'm prepared to try if you
are?"

Debbie thought about it. "Okay," she said eventually. "We'll give it a
try." She stuck out a hand. "Friends?"

Val nodded and smiled briefly, wiping her hand on her pants before
extending it. "Friends it is." Debbie realized suddenly that Val's
hand was trembling. *How much did that cost you?* She had some idea;
she wasn't feeling terribly composed herself right now. They took
their hands back after a moment. "Um, Valerie's going back with Sab
now," Val was saying. "Mike's taking me home, but I'll be along later.
See you there then?"

Debbie nodded. "See you there."

As Val was walking away, Debbie realized that she'd felt none of that
- electricity - she had felt when Valerie had touched her.

She didn't know what to make of that.

***

Tuck sat on his bed. He was tired, and the emptiness was waiting for
him. *No,* he insisted.

"You okay?" Mike was being solicitous.

"I'll be okay in a bit. Mike, why don't you go down and make nice. I'm
- I'm kind of wound up, you know? I need to calm myself down."

"Um, yeah, okay."

"I won't be long. I just need to - I need to clear my head, okay? I'll
be down in a bit."

"I'm _going_, Tuck," Mike smiled to take the edge off it and stood up
to go. Tuck reached out suddenly and took his hand, looking up at him
for a moment in gratitude, then dropped it.

Mike left, and the door swung shut behind him. Tuck took a deep,
ragged breath, opened the top drawer by his bed, and lifted out the
box of scalpel blades.

***
---

"Mike," Sarah was saying, "does your mother know you've got your ears
pierced?"

"Um, not yet Miz Tucker," Mike had wondered how long it would take her
to notice. Not long at all, as it turned out. He'd only got as far as
saying they'd already eaten and Tuck wouldn't need dinner, before she
committed to cooking too much.

"She's _not_ going to be happy - Eugene!" she exclaimed, interrupting
herself. "Eugene's got them done too. Hasn't he."

Mike could only nod.

"What on Earth were you thinking? You two haven't joined a gang or
something have you?"

Mike could laugh at that. "No, Miz Tucker. Nothing like that. It - you
had to be there. It was just the right moment. It was done at a proper
place," he added hurriedly. "Sterile equipment and all that."

"Yes, well, that would be just like you two." Mike wasn't sure if that
was a compliment, but he thought so, so he grinned. "I don't know
_what_ Bill's going to say when he sees this."

"Miz Tucker," Mike took a breath. "Tuck - Eugene has something to tell
you and Mister Tucker tonight. If I can make a suggestion? Pierced
ears aren't real important right now."

She looked at him for a long time. "Are you two lovers?" she asked
suddenly. Mike was so taken aback by the question he didn't have
anything to say. "Because if so," she was continuing quickly, "we just
want you to know it's okay."

Mike gulped. "It is?" was all he managed. Tuck's Mom was nodding.

"We've already talked about the possibility. We've seen how close you
two have always been, and it's only natural for children your age to
want to experiment, and even if it's more than that, I can think of
no-one else I'd rather trust my son with."

Mike was simply flabbergasted. He actually sat down heavily on one of
the kitchen chairs while he tried to process this new information. His
brain was so fully occupied on a rapid reappraisal of Tuck's parents
that he almost forgot to deny it.

He remembered eventually.

"We're not lovers, Miz Tucker. It's not that, I promise you." *How
many other people think this?* He wondered suddenly, then discarded it
as an irrelevancy until later. "I'm not even gay," he added. Too late
he realized from her expression that he'd just given away more than
he'd intended. "Um, I mean..." *What's gay and what's straight where
Tuck's concerned anyway?* That was another thing to think about later,
he told himself firmly.

*Stop digging, Mike,* he almost fancied he heard Tuck's voice in his
head. *Please?*

The shower started upstairs.

"Um, look," he tried, seeing the look on her face, "He's got a lot of
things going on at the moment, you know? I don't know how much he's
going to tell you tonight. Some of it at least, but I don't know how
much. Just - don't push him, okay? He's got to get it straight in his
own head first. Please, give him time?" He was babbling again, he
realized.

"Mike," she replied gently, sitting down at the table too. "What do
you think we've been doing all this time?" Mike found himself sighing
suddenly with released tension. "I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions
though," she added, smiling. Mike could see how forced it was though.
The look in her eyes was of months and months of worrying, and never
letting it show when Tuck was around. "I just wish he'd _tell_ us,"
she said suddenly. "It really doesn't matter what it is, it'll just be
such a relief to _know_."

Mike nodded. "I'm sorry Miz Tucker." He imagined what it must be
costing her to sit there and _not_ be wringing the answers out of him
by main force. "Look, if it helps," he tried, "he's surrounded by good
_good_ friends, and he's not being stupid. He knows how to take care
of himself and stay _safe_." He hoped she got the implication without
him having to be more specific about that.

She just sighed. "I'll go get Bill." She got up and left the kitchen.

***

Tuck came down the stairs feeling much better. Still nervous as hell,
but - better. The shower had helped too. Brian was alone in the living
room watching TV, so he tried the kitchen.

Mom and Dad were both in there already, seated at the table; as was
Mike. *What's been going on already?* He wondered. Mike stood, and
they locked eyes for a moment. "Told you they were a
conversation-opener," Mike said flippantly, indicating the studs in
his ears.

"Eugene?" Mom queried. "Mike says you have something to tell us." She
indicated the chair Mike had just vacated. Tuck's mouth went dry, so
he went to the fridge first, came back with a cola and sat down. Mike,
he noted, took up a position standing behind his right side. *Hmm.*

He opened the coke and took a short drink. "Okay," he croaked. Coke
perhaps hadn't been the best choice. Deep breath. He pushed his damp
hair back behind his ears, felt the thickness of the braid as he did
so. "I want to stop taking those shots." Best to get it out, simply.
It didn't seem to be what they were expecting. "I think they're bad
for me and I want to stop taking them." He watched them.

"Are you sure?" Dad said. "I mean, the doctors said you needed some
surgery as well before..."

"I don't think the doctors know what's best for me Dad."

"Eugene..." Dad was interrupted by Mom putting her hand on his. Tuck
continued.

"The shots - the shots make me feel like crap, okay? They mess with my
head. That's what hormones _do_, right? Only..." he fought for the
words. "It's not right. They just made me feel bad _all the time_. And
I keep exploding at people. Have you noticed by the way how none of my
other friends still come around? Just Mike? And I nearly lost him too,
in case you missed what happened on Sunday."

"They did say," Dad persisted, "that things wouldn't settle down until
you had that operation they've been talking about. Your body's getting
mixed messages at the moment. What if we move that forwards, eh? Get
that done as soon as possible?"

Tuck shook his head. "No, Dad. Look, I'm not asking, I'm telling. I'm
not taking the shots any more."

"I don't think you're being rational..."

"And you're not LISTENING!" Tuck slammed the table as he shouted the
final word. All the tension was back again in a moment. He was
shaking, badly, but Mike's hand on his shoulder was a hugely calming
influence. He sat back, leaning slightly against Mike, and tried to
still the shaking of his hands. That _horrible_ post-rage feeling just
overpowered him for a few moments. "You see?" he said eventually, his
voice still trembling. "I've got to get this _poison_ out of my body.
Please don't fight me on this."

The kitchen door opened. Brian. "What's going _on_?" he demanded. Tuck
just put his head in his hands. *Can this _get_ any worse?*

"Brian we're having a _private_ conversation," Dad warned him. Brian
just swore and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
A few moments later they heard him stomping up the stairs and another
loud slam. "I'll talk to him _later_," Dad muttered.

"Dad," Tuck interrupted. "Don't - don't take it out on him."

Dad thought about it, and nodded.

"Listen," Tuck pleaded. "I was all right before, you know? I wasn't
ill or anything. I wasn't hurting. Now I am. And I'm hurting my
friends too. Look, I mean, if you do something and it hurts, you
_stop_, right? You don't do it _more_."

"Yes, but Eugene," Mom argued, "we always knew this was going to be a
process, didn't we? If you want to grow up normally as a young man
then..."

"Mom! That's not..." Tuck interrupted, and immediately stopped
himself. *I didn't mean to say that.*

"That's not what, Eugene?"

Tuck ran his fingers through his hair and looked away, unhappy. *Can I
stop digging now? Or do I just carry on until I come out the other
side of the world?*

"Eugene?"

Starting tears stung his eyes closed. When he spoke, it was almost a
whisper. "That's not a foregone conclusion."

***

Valerie had found the piano room in Sabrina's house right where she'd
left it, so the party was starting there, and some of the big cushions
from the party room had already been brought down. "I never even knew
this was _here!_" Kathy had complained when she arrived.

"My shame," Sabrina replied. "My parents got it when I was sure I
wanted to be a concert pianist."

"What happened?"

Sabrina shrugged. "Got as good as I was going to get. And before you
ask, _no_. I haven't played for _years_. I'd be as rusty as hell."

"Still better than me," Valerie added from the piano, grinning.

"How would you..." Sabrina stopped. "This is gonna get _so_ weird,"
she finished.

"You mean it's not weird yet?" Valerie asked in mock-horror. "I don't
think I can _handle_ weird."

*Still,* Valerie mused, *she _is_ better than me.* Valerie had, after
all, only been playing a year, and first started proper lessons a lot
more recently than that. She only knew a few pieces and then had to
raid the printed music collection Sabrina's folks had for something
easy enough for her to sight-read, or anything familiar.

"So what _other_ dark secrets about us do you know?" Pam had asked.
Valerie shrugged.

"I don't know. I don't know what you know already."

The doorbell rang again. As everyone else had already arrived it had
to be Val, so she got up and followed Sabrina to the door.

"Oh my God what happened to you?" Sabrina gasped, making Valerie hurry
to catch up. Val was practically hanging from Mike's arm in
exhaustion. She looked like she'd done a lot of crying lately. "You
look like you've been put through the wringer."

"Hi Sab," Val waved feebly, and tried to stand unaided. "Hi Val."

"She has," Mike answered Sabrina. "So go easy tonight will you?" Mike
passed Val across the threshold.

"Don't worry Mike, we'll take _good_ care of her." Val just about fell
into Valerie's arms.

"What happened?" Valerie asked Mike over Val's shoulder.

"She found herself having to explain more than she'd intended."

Val chuckled through a sob. "Yeah, you could say that." Sabrina's
mouth formed a silent 'Oh'.

"It's been a _really_ long day," Mike emphasized to Sabrina. She
nodded, understanding.

"Okay Mike. No more excitement. I promise."

"Oh, Mike, the bags," Val said suddenly, twisting in Valerie's
embrace. Mike grinned and passed over two identical-looking backpacks,
except one looked rather more road-worn. "I guess that one's yours,"
Val said, passing it over to Valerie, "but I packed stuff for both of
us in mine anyway."

"Okay then," Mike said and turned to go.

"Mike!" Val cried out then and tottered back into Mike's arms. "Thank
you Mike. If you hadn't been there..."

"I know." Mike returned the hug. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" Val
stood up straighter and nodded. "We'll do something gentle and sane,
right?"

Val giggled. "What's that?"

"Come on then, we're cooling Sab's house down." Val stood free and
smiled and waved as Mike went back to his car.

"You take Val up to the party room," Sabrina told Valerie. "I'll go
tell the others the party's moving."

Valerie nodded and started shepherding her counterpart up the stairs.

***

Val was in a warm fuzzy place. She was curled up on the sofa in the
crook of Valerie's arm, having already changed, with Valerie's help,
into her big full-length nightgown before any of the others had made
their way upstairs. She'd brought it because it was big and comforting
and not least because it hid her scarred legs. She didn't want _that_
conversation tonight. Sabrina, having led the rest of the party
upstairs, had gone to pull a quilt off a bed and put that over Val, so
she wouldn't catch a chill, she said, and made it clear that it was
definitely okay if she wanted to drop off and have a snooze.

Val didn't actually feel in any danger of falling asleep, but she was
happy to lie in Valerie's embrace and let the conversation wash around
her. They weren't pressing her to tell them what had happened, even
though she knew they must be dying to know, and for that she was
immensely grateful. Instead they just carried on as normal, which was
nice, and let Val catch up on a lot of their goings-on in the last few
weeks when she hadn't seen them much. Sabrina already had some new
clothes out, but thankfully Val's modelling services weren't required
this time. It was nice to not be the centre of attention for once,
like a mascot, but just to _be_ there. Included again.

She'd missed this.

Even so, it was strange to see Debbie among them. The last time they'd
been at a sleepover together they had been exactly that: Together. Val
would have been cuddled up against _her_, rather than across the room.
She seemed relaxed enough though, now happily sparring with Sabrina on
some point of fashion.

Besides, Valerie seemed to be substituting for her in the conversation
well enough. It was a bit strange at first, to be thinking up
responses, but just feeling too whacked out to say anything, when
Valerie would say the exact same thing from just behind her anyway.
That was fine. That meant she didn't have to feel guilty for not
joining in much.

"Omigod!" Sabrina suddenly exclaimed. "Val, I just realized, you
didn't change to come here, did you?"

"Oh God, I'm sorry Sab, I forgot..."

"No no no, look, I mean, if it took me - _me_ - this long to realize,
it's obviously not an issue, right?"

Val shrugged. "Guess so." When she'd come out of the shower she'd just
thrown on the second new pair of cargo pants she'd bought and an old
T-shirt, and only added a baggy old sweater before leaving.

"Well, yeah, I mean, I just opened the door and there was Mike and
Val, and that was all there was to it, and I've only just realized you
hadn't dressed _specifically_ as Val."

"Muad-Dib no longer needs the weirding module," Valerie added
unhelpfully. Val poked her, grinning.

"What?" asked Kim.

"Sci-fi joke," Val replied. "Ignore it. And _you_," she jabbed at
Valerie again, "should be ashamed, bringing up that travesty of a film
in polite company!"

"I know," Valerie put on a hangdog air, "I feel so _soiled_. I
couldn't help myself."

It seemed to wake Jill up though. She had been sitting on a cushion on
the floor in front of Val, leaning against the sofa and the quilt, but
she twisted round now. "That reminds me, Valerie," she was asking, "is
it _true_ that all the women in the mirror universe are lesbians?"

Valerie grinned, and caught Debbie's eye. "Yeah, pretty much," she
said, directly to Debbie.

Debbie blushed, right to her ears, and there were three or four gasps
of astonishment around the room as the remaining people who hadn't
already figured the situation out, did so.

"I should watch it Debs, or you'll be ravished in your sleep," Jill
leered at Debbie.

"Ah sadly no," Valerie interposed, still with that grin that said she
was teasing. "Sleepover rules apply: No fanny business."

That set everyone off laughing. Even Debbie.

***

"No, actually, I guess they were pretty cool about it," Val was
saying. "It's just - I wasn't meaning to go that far, you know? I just
wanted to tell them about stopping the shots."

"What happened?" Valerie asked. The Pack had closed around, so most of
them were close enough to touch Val in reassurance. The quilt had been
mostly pushed aside as the room had warmed up, and Val had moved to
the floor cushion, Kathy's idea, to bring her more into the center,
leaning back between Valerie's legs while Valerie unravelled her braid
and brushed out her hair.

"Like Kathy said, they wanted to know why. Giving up that treatment
basically means goodbye to any hope of ever being like a real man."
Valerie gave her an extra squeeze. "Before I knew it I'd said
something that had to be backed up?" People nodded.

"The operable word is 'like,'" Debbie added unexpectedly. Val nodded.

"Yeah. I just felt like a fraud. The more I tried, the worse it got
and the more people didn't seem to like me."

"Don't you ever worry that you do things too much because you want
people to like you?" Valerie asked. "That that's why you were being
torn two ways all the time?"

Val thought about that. "Well, yeah, that too, but that's not what I
meant. I mean - people can tell if you're faking, you know? And they
don't like it." More nods.

"You know what that tells you about all the time you've spent as Val?"
Kathy prodded.

"That I wasn't faking? Yeah, Kath, I'd figured that one out," Val gave
a rueful grin. "Oh sure, there were details I had to learn; how to
walk, how to talk..."

"How to _shop_," added Jill playfully. Val reached over quickly and
mussed her hair up. "Hey! I'm just jealous, okay?"

"But that's all details. That's just 'cause I didn't get to learn that
stuff growing up."

"It wasn't hiding the real me, it was letting me out," Valerie added.

"Yeah. Sort of. Even though I was scared rigid half the time."

"So you told your folks everything?" Kim asked. Val shook her head.

"Haven't told them about Val. Have most _definitely_ not told them
about Travis." Val sighed, foreseeing more difficult conversations in
the future. "They just know that being a girl is something - something
I'm thinking about. I thought that was enough to be getting on with,"
she added. Everyone was nodding again.

"They're going to be able to tell you've done it before," Valerie
warned. "It's harder than you'd think to pretend you don't know how to
walk in heels, trust me on this."

"Dad was of the opinion I was just scared of the operation they wanted
me to have. I mean I _was_, but it's more than that. It's like Val
said before. Who's to say my body's not fine as it is? I mean it's
_my_ body and it may not be _normal_, but what's actually so wrong
with it that makes all these doctors want to swarm over me and put it
right when I'm not actually _ill?_"

"You think you might leave things as they are then?" Debbie asked.

Val nodded. "We agreed that I could be left alone as long as that's
what I wanted, unless there's a clear medical need. That could yet
happen; something could still come out of this that _needs_ to be
dealt with one way or another. But that's fair enough, you know? It's
just that as long as I'm healthy it's none of their damn business,
frankly."

"It's funny," Kim was saying. "I kind of assumed you'd want to, you
know, go all the way eventually... What about you Valerie?"

Valerie stirred, pausing in the middle of doing Val's hair up in a
French plait. "One thing about telling people you want to be the
opposite sex to the one on your birth certificate," she phrased
carefully, "is that suddenly instead of 'quick, we gotta fix this now'
you get 'ooh, are you really sure? Let's take our _time_ about this.
You've got to live for a year in role and see a psychiatrist regularly
and we can't do this or that 'cause you're a minor' and so on and so
forth which actually suits _me_ fine, 'cause it gets 'em off my back
for a year at least." She grinned. "So no, I'm okay as I am."

"You don't mind being - well - in-between?"

Val shrugged. Valerie shook her head more confidently.

"No," she said. "It's fine, really. The only problem is other people,
you know?" She resumed plaiting Val's hair. "My brain's kind of
in-betweeny too, I guess, so I don't feel bad in myself. It's just
what I was meant to be I guess." She grinned. "Mah woman like me jus'
de way I is an' dat's good'nuff for me. Now _Val_ here has a
_boyfriend_ who's straighter than a laser beam, last I heard anyway,
so she might have other considerations to think about."

Val groaned. "At least I don't have to tell him it's me-as-a-guy or
not at all. I was dreading that."

"I don't know," Valerie continued, "I might change my mind later.
After all, I'm reliably informed having a vagina is nice," she added
mischievously.

"Yeah, they have their moments," Jill replied. Everyone laughed.

"High maintenance," someone else muttered.

"It's just - it's not without risks, you know? The least of them
being, will I have any feeling down there? It's not minor surgery;
there's gotta be a hundred things that could go wrong. I mean - why
take a risk like that, if I'm not being utterly driven to it?"

"But you may change your mind?" Val asked, twisting around to look at
her.

Valerie shrugged. "It's possible. I may have been a little quicker off
the starting line than you, Val, but I'm not done figuring myself out
yet either. Eyes front, let me just finish this off..."

***

"Oh Val," Kim said suddenly, "now you're back to stay I presume?" Val
nodded, "Miz Parker has been on at me practically every week asking
when you might be well enough to do more sitting for them." Val raised
an eyebrow.

"'Well enough?' What did you tell them when I stopped? Not what I
asked you to tell them obviously."

"No, Val, not what you asked me to tell them."

"Thanks Kim." Val grinned.

"As far as they're concerned you just had an illness of a _sensitive_
nature, you know? To stop them asking questions. I was going to say
you'd had to go away, but Deb reminded me that Miz Parker knows
Travis, so I just kept it simple and vague. Anyway, if you want it,
it's there. I'm managing okay, but the kids still really miss you, and
I think they _all_ miss your cooking." There was laughter all round.

"So do we!" Sabrina added, to heartfelt agreement.

"So do you want it back?"

"Oh God, Kim, _Yes!_" Val didn't even have to think about it. Besides,
she was broke, especially after the visit to the mall. Valerie knew
_just_ how to appeal to her base consumerist side, naturally. It was
either this or back to the helldesk in the new year. Or more likely
over the Christmas week as it would pay better. "Oh but not if it does
you out of a job..."

"I'm okay, Val. It's you they really want anyway, and there's other
stuff I could be doing. Right Deb?"

Debbie nodded. "D & E can always use more capacity," she smiled. "In
fact, for one, I could use you to organize all the babysitting from
now on. There's getting to be too many things to juggle for me."

"Never! That's not possible!" Kathy teased.

"Yes, Kathy, even I am mortal. Kim's doing a lot of it already. May as
well make it formal, then I don't have to feel guilty about it,"
Debbie shrugged, grinning.

"What about you, Valerie?" Kim asked.

"No offence, but I'm still hoping I'm not going to be around that
long," Valerie answered.

"But you should plan in case you are?"

Valerie shrugged. "I have some plans anyway. But if they fall through
- could you use a despatch rider? Got my own bike..."

"You've got a _bike?_" Jill came to life. "When did you get a bike?"

"Same day you got yours, Jill," Valerie grinned. "D & E Express
Delivery. How d'you think we could afford the payments?"

"I can't. 'S why I haven't got mine yet. That's so _cool!_"

"_And_, my bike followed me here," she sang, "'cause she loves me so
much."

"Cooler! Where is it?"

"Parked round my - Val's house."

"Oh you _have_ to take me on it!"

"Fine, but we go get you some gear first. None of my friends are
getting on a bike without a helmet at least."

"Debs?" Kim was saying, waving a hand in front of her face. No
response. "Debbie?"

"Shush, Kim," Val told her, grinning. "She's thinking."

***

"Val?"

"Mmm?"

"You awake?"

"Yeah. Am now."

"Sorry."

"It's alright."

"Anyone else awake?"

"..."

"Don't think so. Or they're pretending."

"Are we cool now? It seemed like it today."

"Yeah, I think so. I think we're cool now."

"I'm glad."

"Me too."

"Val?"

"Mmm?"

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, I'm sorry too."

"I shouldn't have left you there like that."

"..."

"Val? You okay?"

"Yeah."

"I didn't mean to remind you like that. I just - I just needed to say
that."

"No, it's okay."

"We really fucked up good, didn't we?"

"Yeah."

"I've been trying to get my head sorted too."

"Careful, you'll lose all that business acumen."

"I'd choose not hurting people any day."

"I know."

"Wanted you to know, that's all. I'm getting help. I'm trying to get
straightened out."

"Hear you."

"You really like Travis, don't you?"

"Yeah. Oh I'm sorry, I know you..."

"Hey, not as if I didn't practically throw you into his arms."

"You're okay with that then?"

"Yeah. Am now. Or anyway it's none of my damn business. Besides, given
the facts, thinking of you as another guy who went gay on me is kind
of stupid anyway, don't you think?"

"Guess so."

"I mean, what counts as gay or straight with you these days anyway?"

"Buggered if I know, Debs."

"..."

"I didn't _mean_ it like that!"

"I know."

"What was this huge debt Lisa owed him anyway?"

"I don't know."

"You don't think she invented it, do you?"

"..."

"Debbie?"

"Oh God, Val, I never thought of that."

"Just 'cause I said it doesn't make it true. I was just wondering."

"Did Travis say that?"

"We didn't talk about it."

"Oh God."

"I'm sorry. Look, I never said it, okay? It was just a wild thought I
had a long time ago. It's not like it matters any more."

"Of _course_ it matters."

"No, it _doesn't_, Debbie. Sure, if that had been _why_ we split up it
would have mattered. But it wasn't. And the three of us - you know,
even if that was her original plan, I reckon she got over it, don't
you?"

"I guess so."

"It's not important."

"D'you think Valerie and her Debbie are still with their Lisa?"

"I've no idea."

"Just, I've never heard her mention Lisa."

"No, me neither. You'd have to ask her."

"Hmm. Don't you think that might seem a little forward?"

"Huh?"

"What do you think of her?"

"Me? I think she's wonderful."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Like having a much cooler twin sister, I guess."

"Yeah, I can see that. You're pretty cool yourself, you know."

"Am I? I thought I was just a fruitloop."

"That too. Hey, we wouldn't fit in with this crowd any other way."

"Guess not."

"She's quite a lot unlike you though, isn't she? I mean - sometimes
she says something or does something and it's just _so_ you I have to
double-take to be sure which one of you it was, but then she'll do
something else and I'm, like, 'where did _that_ come from?'"

"You noticed it too?"

"She certainly has a way about her."

"You saying I don't?"

"You have a _different_ way."

"You're digging yourself deeper..."

"No, I think she's got more confidence, you know? In who she is and
all?"

"Yeah, know what you mean."

"Dunno about you but I find that _really_ sexy."

"Debbie!"

"Okay it may not be that, but whatever it is, she's turning me _on_
Val! What am I supposed to do?"

"You're asking _me?_"

"What, do you fancy her too?"

"Debbie, she's my _sister!_"

"No she isn't."

"No, she's _way_ closer than that."

"Siamese twins separated at birth?"

"Not at birth. Just a few months ago. Besides, it is sort of like
having Amy or Susan around. Only not, at the same time, you know?"

"Guess so."

"She's _not_ in that space, Debs."

"You're not even curious?"

"Sure I'm curious, she's sex on a bike, how could I not be curious?
We're just not going there, okay?"

"Okay."

"Am I sexy like that?"

"Mmmm. Sometimes. When you get this thing going, you know?"

"No, I don't."

"Nor do I!"

"Some help you are."

"Mmmm. Nice to think..."

"Mmm?"

"Somewhere out there. We made it."

"Yeah."

"She'll be missing her."

"Who?"

"Me. The other me. Will be missing Valerie."

"A lot of people will."

"I know how it feels. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Is it bad to want
her to stay?"

"Oh God I hope not. But we don't have any idea how this happened.
Who's to say _wishing_ doesn't play a part?"

"You think that's possible?"

"If this is possible, anything's possible."

"I don't think wishing is it. If it was, she'd be home already. Their
wishing for her to come home is going to be way stronger than ours for
her to stay."

"Suppose so."

"I guarantee it. If only - I wish we could send a message or
something. To tell them she's okay at least."

"Yeah."

"Somehow so they'd believe it. Or at least not hurt any more."

***

Valerie clicked the heels of the rented red rollerblade boots three
times. "There's _no_ place like home. There's _no_ place like home.
There's _no_ place like home."

She opened her eyes, looked at the puzzled faces of the Pack, who'd
stopped in the middle of lacing up their own boots and shrugged. "Hey,
it was worth a shot." She put the rented helmet on, adjusted the
chinstrap and accelerated away into the rink to do her own warm-up.

"Is there _anything_ she can't do?" Val moaned. She reckoned her laces
were tight enough now.

"Feeling inadequate?" Kathy asked.

"Just wondering what I've been _doing_ the last eight months is all."

"Babysitting," muttered Kim.

"Huh."

"I'd have her on ice," Pam remarked. "_Told_ you we should have gone
to the waterpark."

"Nah, she can do ice too. Besides, don't like the idea of losing
fingers today."

"Look at her go..."

They watched for a moment. Valerie could certainly _move_. She looked
the part too, Val thought, in her new red skirt, black woolen tights
and black form-fitting top she'd bought the previous day, and her
hair, longer than Val's, tied back into a simple ponytail with a red
scrunchie. *Red-black-red-black,* Val mused, wondering what it was
reminding her of.

Sabrina's phone snapped shut. "Okay, Mike's on his way."

"Cool, thanks Sab." Val secured the lightweight helmet and carefully
got to her feet, keeping a grip on the handrail. "Come on people,
let's make ourselves look like idiots in the name of interdimensional
relations."

She watched Valerie unwind out of a pirouette in a wide arc around
half the rink. *I saw that in a dream,* she realized suddenly, with a
chill of deja vu, like something awful was going to happen. *The
jester-girl. How did I know she skated?* Val was frozen for a moment,
causing Debbie, who'd got up next, to bump into her on the railing.
Val nearly lost her footing, but it pushed the moment away. *She must
have told me at the diner,* she rationalized, as she recovered her
wits. Besides, Valerie was coming over _fast_, a big grin on her face.

***

Val had a sore butt, but she was grinning like a mad thing. This was
_fun!_ After three quarters of an hour she wasn't embarrassing herself
too much on wheels either. She could start, and stop, and keep going,
and even turn corners (carefully). It was hard work though. She
reckoned she'd figured out where Valerie's extra muscle tone had come
from. *Been spending too much time in front of computers lately,* she
chided herself, and watched as Debbie careened out of control straight
into Valerie's arms, again.

"She _has_ to be doing that deliberately," Pam commented dryly as she
spun to a stop by Val. Pam had only crashed out a couple of times;
after a few minutes of wobbling she'd adapted to wheels, more or less.

"You think?" Val replied, dripping sarcasm all down her front. She
grinned to make it clear she was okay with it. "Valerie's a big girl,
she can defend herself."

They watched as Valerie set Debbie back on her wheels, but kept hold
of Debbie's left hand, raised it, and with a sort of curtseyed bow,
bent to kiss it, then effortlessly reversed away.

"Assuming she _wants_ to," Pam added. Val's eyebrows were trying to
reach her hairline.

***

Val felt much more confident with Valerie holding her hand as they
skated in a pair. She was able to fall into the same rhythm, as if it
was being imparted via their linked hands.

"So you like it?"

"Oh yeah! I can't believe how _good_ you are at this."

"Well, I'm more into Street, but it's nice to do the pretty stuff
sometimes," she grinned. "Besides, I wouldn't trust rented boots on
the extreme moves anyway. Aren't you glad I made you wear those pads?"

"Hey, _I_ wasn't arguing! I wore pads on the summer hike this year.
Was such a success Dad agrees they're standard equipment now."

"Cool!"

"No more shredded knees."

"Amen to that. I was having something of a crisis at the time, so
didn't think of that."

"No more emotional crises either!

"Second that motion!"

"Talking of which," Val continued, "You sure you know what you're
doing? With Debbie that is?"

Valerie paused before answering, covered by them turning the corner,
which Val still had to think about. Then they were heading back
towards the preparation area. Val saw Mike there, waving, presumably
having just arrived. She waved back momentarily, then flailed slightly
to regain her balance.

"No, not really," Valerie admitted finally. "Just trying to keep it
light and casual, you know? A bit of flirting never hurt anyone."

Val nodded, not that Valerie could see that as they skated.

"You don't have a problem with it, do you?" Valerie asked back.

"No. No, I don't. We seem to be friends now, which is bizarre. We were
never just friends before, you know?" Valerie nodded. "I just don't
want you to be hurt, that's all. Either of you."

"You sound like Mom," Valerie teased. There wasn't time for a riposte,
as they closed with the barrier where Mike was standing. Jill, Debbie
and Kathy had already congregated there; the others were still doing
circuits or something.

"Mike Mikey Mike!" Val called, bumping into the barrier. "Look! I can
nearly skate!"

***

Debbie had to leave anyway to do some consults. *Some things never
change,* Val thought, but at least reckoned she and Valerie were
probably safe from each other's predations for the afternoon. Jill had
resumed begging Valerie for a ride on her bike, and Kim had some
sitting to do. So the sleepover party was ending properly at last.
They had gathered around Mike's car to take their leave.

The sun came out.

"Oh Valerie," Debbie gasped, "look at your _hair!_"

"Debbie will you stop flirting for _one_ minute," Kathy griped.
Valerie grinned.

"I'm not. _Look!_" She turned Valerie around so they could see. "This
is _dyed_ black isn't it Valerie?" she asked for confirmation.

"Yeah, of course."

Jill shook her head. "Doesn't _look_ dyed."

Everyone crowded around. Jill used the back of her hand to lift
Valerie's hair slightly so the low-angled light from the sun could
catch it better.

"Oh but that's beautiful," Pam breathed. Someone else whistled a long,
descending note. Mike. Naturally. No-one hit him.

"What kinda hair dye do you have in your world anyway?" Sabrina asked.

"Whaddya mean? Just regular dye."

Debbie dove into her purse and produced a mirror. Valerie took it
wordlessly, swished her hair around in front of her shoulder,
shampoo-commercial-style, and tried to angle herself to catch the
light in the mirror.

"Wow!" Presumably she found the angle.

"It didn't do that before?" Mike queried.

"No, it didn't."

"Think it means something?" Val asked.

Mike shrugged. The sun went in, and Valerie's black hair was merely
black again.

***

The bike, and Valerie's bike gear, had to be picked up from the house,
so Valerie and Jill piled into the back seat. "You're still not
getting on her without some gear," Valerie said sternly. "Mike, can we
stop off on the way back?"

"Sure. Where?"

"Bike shop. I'll direct."

The car roared into life. "Val," Mike asked, "d'you need to change
before you get home?"

Val groaned.

"Getting old, isn't it," Valerie commented from the back seat.

Val turned in her seat so the others could see her. "I dunno, do I?"

"Make-up," Jill suggested. Valerie nodded. "Apart from that you'll do
I reckon."

Val dug in her purse for wipes. The make-up had been kind of wrecked
by skating anyway.

***

It turned out there was no-one home. Mom was working. Dad had logged
out some of the camping gear and taken Brian into the wilderness, the
email said, giving co-ordinates and planned route. Expected return
tomorrow, before 17:00. Val understood the purpose of it without it
having to be explained.

Still, that meant for the time being they could relax. Valerie
wandered around the house for a while _noticing_ things, then settled
on the sofa and played with the cat. "It's nice not having to be
_explained_ to someone," she said. Jill was itching to go on the bike,
which she'd seen briefly outside, with some moral fervor now she had
paid out on the gear, but Valerie was having none of it just yet.

Val went to fix lunch, suspecting that to be the real reason. Skating
was hunger-forming, she decided.

"Is it safe in here?" Mike asked, poking his head into the kitchen.
Val looked at him, then laughed.

"I'm going to teach you to cook, Mike. Not today though, just sit down
where you won't get in the way." Mike obeyed. "Men who can cook, and
who really know their way around a kitchen are sexy, okay?"

"Really?"

Val looked at him again. "Trust me on this. Hmm," she added, looking
at the last of what was available, then went to the kitchen door.
"Look you two," she called to Valerie and Jill, "why don't you go out
and play with that bike for a while after all. Lunch isn't going to be
for about three quarters of an hour anyway."

Valerie sneezed and got up, displacing the cat to the floor. Jill
practically bounced. Valerie sneezed again. "I think I'm allergic to
the fuzzball anyway," she muttered. "Aren't you?"

"Yeah, I was," Val replied. "I got some shots. Losing the cat was
_not_ an option Brian was willing to discuss in a civilized manner,"
she explained, heading back into the kitchen.

"So, can Travis cook?" Mike asked slyly as Val started pulling things
out of the fridge.

Val rolled her eyes. "I _wish!_ His idea of getting dinner is to order
take-out."

"Take-out's good."

Val flipped him the finger. "Besides, you never know what they put in
that stuff."

"Lotsa lovely additives."

"You're hopeless."

***

Val heard a motorbike approaching. "Good timing," she remarked, as it
pulled up outside and with a last rev-up, went silent. She was just
bringing the salad bowl out when the door opened and Jill came in,
carrying her new helmet, and wearing a rosy glow on her cheeks and a
stupidly big grin.

"Val, you have _got_ to get one of those!"

"I don't have to do _everything_ she does you know," Val retorted, a
little more tartly than she'd intended. She didn't add the mere
thought of it terrified her.

"Yeah, but this is _cool_. At least get her to give you a ride on the
back."

Valerie entered. "You want one then?" she asked Jill, as if there was
any question. Jill nodded emphatically.

"Come on you two, out of those things. Lunch is ready now."

"Yes Mom."

Val threw an oven mitt at her.

***
---

The three of them were standing freezing by Val's car in the parking
lot of the mental health clinic. "That's where your bike was parked?"
Mike asked. Valerie nodded. She'd parked the bike as near as she could
remember to where it had been on Saturday. "And you were parked here,
Val?" Val nodded. "Okay, just go over what happened in detail,
Valerie, from the last moment you're _sure_ you were in your world."

"When I left Sheila's office," Valerie replied. "Sheila - was
definitely _my_ Sheila."

"You sure?"

"Well, she knew me as Valerie."

Mike nodded. "Okay. So you came out of her office..."

Valerie nodded. "Came down the stairs and out that door."

They went over to the main doorway to the building. "Okay, both of you
go in, and come out again." Val and Valerie went through the door
together. Mike couldn't see them well, through the reflections in the
glass, but a few moments later they both came out again, looking
self-conscious. "And you went to your car, Val, and Valerie?"

"I went to my bike."

"Okay."

Val went to her car and got in. Valerie walked over to her bike. Mike
followed.

"I was about to put my helmet on," Valerie said, "and I looked in the
bike mirror. At myself," she added, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"Okay then..."

Valerie bent to look in the mirror. "And then I saw Debbie's old car,
in the mirror."

"Can you see it there now?"

"Yeah. We're in the right place."

They waited a few moments, as if something might happen, then walked
back over to Val's car. Val got out as they approached.

"Maybe it's something to do with timing," Val wondered.

"My session overran by a couple of minutes," Valerie suggested. "When
I first saw you, it looked like you'd been sitting there a while." Val
nodded.

So they tried it a few more times, with variations each time. Nothing
happened. Mike hadn't really expected it to.

"It could be timing in the sense that it has to be for your normal
appointments?" Mike said. "When you're expected to be here."

"What if it's to do with _Sheila?_" Val asked. "What if she's behind
it somehow?"

"It's a thought," Mike answered. "Shall we ask her?"

Valerie grinned at the thought, but Val shook her head. "I asked at
reception. The receptionist wanted to know why we were coming in and
out all the time. Sheila's not back until the weekend anyway."

"Convenient," Valerie said.

"Probably means nothing, but we can try again on Saturday I guess."

"If nothing else works by then," Valerie finished.

***

"What time is it?" Val asked. Mike looked at his watch.

"Coming up to five."

They'd been hanging out in Mike's room most of the afternoon. Mike
said he'd wanted to look up some picture of something, but he couldn't
remember what, so he spent most the time sat on his bed flipping
through books while Val and Valerie chatted, filling in gaps in their
diverged history. It had started with Val asking how come Valerie
started skating, which led on to Trish and Pauline and the girls, and
thence to the "day school" program Jane started. Val reciprocated with
details and news, and more details and more news,_ _about Travis,
until Valerie begged for mercy, after which Val switched to the Parker
kids and insisted on showing Valerie the picture of Stella's first
(all right, second) step. Of course, this had meant admitting she
carried that picture with her. Which led on to admitting to the other
pictures also in her bag.

"Should head back," Val said. "With Dad and Brian away, I think Mom'll
want me home." Mike nodded.

"What about me?" Valerie asked.

"Stay here tonight?" Mike suggested.

"What would your folks say?" Mike looked doubtful. "Being homeless
sucks," Valerie finished, feeling depressed again. "I should get a
room."

Val reached and clasped Valerie's hand, and Mike's, on her other side.
Mike in turn took Valerie's other hand. They were in their place; all
three of them, and this time it was Val, supporting and enfolding them
all in uncomplicated, inarticulate love.

***

They lay on the floor, heads together, like a three-pointed star.

"When would you give up though?" Val was saying. "I mean, _maybe_
you'll go back, but maybe it'll be _years_ from now. When do you say,
okay, I need to make a life here?"

"And if I do, and I get too close to people here and I get taken away
_again?_"

"It'd be even worse if you lived your whole life and never let people
get close, surely," Mike answered.

"Would it?"

"I think so," Val agreed.

Valerie sighed. "It's been five days. I don't know. I mean, what's a
reasonable amount of time before giving up on a whole life and
everyone you love and who loves you? How long is long enough?"

Val reached sideways and took Valerie's hand again.

"I mean, if there was just something I knew I should do..."

Valerie was silent for a while, but tightened her grip on Val's hand.
There was a sudden sob in the silence. Val rolled around to lie
alongside Valerie and to hold her. That released Valerie's tension
then, and she wept properly.

"Hey, Valerie. Don't cry. You're the strong one, remember? You're the
one who's got it all together, right?" Valerie giggled wetly through
her tears. Val shifted so she had Valerie's head on her lap. "I don't
know what I'd have done without you."

"I'm scared," Valerie wept on. "I'm so scared..." it gave out in a
gasp.

"I know."

"I - I don't have anything. _Anything_. I don't..." she sniffed, "I
don't exist. I feel like I could just evaporate away and no-one would
ever know I existed. I could just vanish any time - I want to go
home."

"I know, Valerie," Val tried to reassure her, rocking her, and
stroking her hair.

"I have nothing. No-one..."

"You have us."

Valerie shook her head, in Val's lap. "No. I'm _intruding_. I'm
intruding. I shouldn't be here."

"No, Valerie. Without you, Mike and I - I'd fucked it up, okay? You
brought us together again. You saved us both. That makes you one of
us, don't you see? You're part of us now." She looked up at Mike then.
He nodded. She flickered her eyes down to Valerie's side. Mike took
the hint and moved over so he could hold one of Valerie's hands.
"You're part of us now. We're joined. Couldn't you tell?"

"But..."

"Yes, a very nice butt too. Not too skinny like mine." That made
Valerie laugh again, despite her crying.

***

"Saturday."

Valerie had stopped crying. It was calm. Quiet.

"Saturday?" Val asked.

Valerie nodded. "Like we said earlier. We go to Sheila like any normal
Saturday. We go in the door, we go up to the waiting room, we go into
Sheila's room. We see what happens. There's a kind of symmetry to it,
don't you think? We go back to where it happened, at the natural time
for us to be there again. Maybe I'll go when we go in the door. Maybe
I'll go when we go in to see Sheila. Maybe if Sheila's got something
to do with it, we can at least _learn_ something. Otherwise, I'd say
we could _still_ use a shrink, you know?" She smiled nervously, and
sighed. "And if after all that, if we come out of there and I'm still
here and we don't have new information - well, that's it. I got
nothing else to try. After that, I guess I'm here to stay."

Val nodded, stroking Valerie's hair.

"Either way I'll still be gone you know," Valerie continued. "I can't
stay here. You can't hide me in your bedrooms forever you know, and
anyway that's not much of a life."

"You'll go to this Jane person?"

Valerie nodded. "It makes too much sense to ignore."

"You trust her that much?" Mike asked.

"Yeah I guess so. You can trust Jane to be Jane, you know? It won't be
boring anyway." Mike looked doubtful. "You know her, Mike. Rather my
Mike does. I think you'd approve."

"Anyway you're going to be reachable aren't you?" Val said. "We're
gonna be in touch?"

"All the time," Valerie promised.

"And we can visit. And if it does turn out bad we can rescue you," she
smiled.

***

Sarah was kicking back in front of the TV when Val entered, feeling
nervous. This was the first time she was seeing her after the scene
the night before. Alone this time. No Mike. No Dad. She smiled at Val
when she came in though, so she reckoned she wasn't pissed or
anything.

"Hi Mom, you eaten yet?"

"No, not yet," she grinned. Val knew what that meant. *Trapped. Bah.*

"I'll do something if you like?"

"Oh I'd _love_ that. I was thinking of getting a take-out actually."

"That's good too," Val switched gears. "I mean, if you'd _rather..._"

"No, no, I wouldn't want to deprive you. I know how much you love to
cook."

"Yeah, but I cooked at lunchtime. Mike and - Jill were around," Val
edited, realizing that was _exactly_ what Valerie had meant. "Oh, and
there's not actually much in the house. We need to shop anyway."

Sarah thought about it. "Oh all right, you win. Pizza?"

Val hesitated.

"They deliverrrrr," Sarah prompted. Clearly if there was something to
be fetched, Val would be the one to fetch it.

Sometimes New York definitely had its advantages.

"Yeah, pizza. I'm just gonna go change. And a quick shower."

***

The doorbell rang. Sarah looked at Val meaningfully. Val groaned and
went to answer it.

"Oh, hi Valerie!" Val nearly dropped through the floor, knowing Mom
was in earshot.

"Uh, you don't work for Pizza Hut any more?" she asked stupidly. The
boxes said Papa John's clearly enough. Val felt dizzy. *Please Mom
don't have heard that.*

John shrugged. "Branch opened closer to home. Anyway here y'go. One
large The Works, garlic bread, two wedges with garlic dip and a large
bottle of Coke." Sarah had been _hungry_. Val just wanted the torture
to end. She took them and handed over the cash she'd already had
ready. "Anyway, how've you been? I haven't seen you at Debbie's for a
while."

"Uh, fine I guess," Val lied. *Please just go,* she beamed.

"I seen you around school," he carried on, giving Val another near
cardiac arrest along with the change he handed her. *I told him I went
to Red Bluff,* she knew; she remembered the stories she had to keep
straight. *He forgot or something?* "You're part of that role-playing
group aren't you?"

"Uh, yeah." *Oh _God..._*

"Only, um, I was wondering if you guys took new members? I used to
play, you know, in Junior High before we moved here, but you know how
it is."

*Oh this just gets _better!_*

"Um, I'd have to talk to the guys," she extemporized.

"That's great, thanks Valerie." He grinned again. Val's knees actually
wobbled. "And enjoy your pizza!"

*As if.* Val shut the door and slowly _slowly_ turned back into the
room.

Sarah was _looking_. *She did hear then,* Val thought.

*Deep breath then. Here we go.* "Look, pizza!" she tried cheerfully,
bringing it over. "Change too!" She dumped both onto the table and
fled out to the kitchen with the Coke, to stow it in the fridge.

"You haven't just been _thinking_ about it, have you." Sarah stated,
blocking the kitchen doorway. Val started guiltily.

"Uh..."

"Eugene..." Val reckoned maybe she had about eight seconds to live.
*How fast can I unlock the back door?* She wondered quickly, *or would
it be better to just dive through the window?* "What have you been
_doing?_"

*What do you _think?_* She thought better of saying. "Uh," was all she
could manage again. "Mom..."

"That boy," Sarah stated the obvious, "called you 'Valerie.'" She was
just about keeping a lid on herself, Val thought. "I think you have
some explaining to do."

"Mom, uh..."

"_Now_, Eugene." Sarah advanced into the room. Val backed off from the
fridge.

*Game over,* the realization settled over her. "Okay Mom," she
whispered. "Okay. I'll tell you." It was the only thing she could
think of to do now. Bizarrely she remembered what she'd told Ricky all
that time ago about running away. *You can't run far enough or fast
enough.*

It seemed to work. Sarah looked at her for a long, _long_ moment,
visibly changing gears, then nodded and turned aside to the freezer.
She opened the door and pulled out a heavily frosted bottle. "I think
I'm going to need this," she muttered, finding a glass. Val just
watched, warily, off-balance from the failure of the sky to fall, as
her mother poured a generous shot's worth of treacly clear fluid into
the glass. "You see," she was saying, to Val's puzzled expression,
"ethanol has a lower freezing point than water, so if you get the
freezer settings right, the water freezes out," she grinned
conspiratorially, raising the glass at Val, "leaving _concentrated_
Stoli. Nazdarovye," she finished, drained the glass in one, and
slammed it down on the side while her body processed the shock and
sorted itself out so she could breathe again.

Val looked on in astonishment. Her mother, meanwhile, was pouring out
another glass. This one she proffered at Val, who took it gingerly.
"Go on," she said, more gently than Val expected. "I figure you're
going to need it too." Val nodded and following Sarah's cue, drank the
entire contents in one go.

*Oh God!* All the air left her lungs at once. *She's poisoned me!* It
would be just like Mom, she was thinking in that moment, to lace the
bottle with poison and build up an immunity to it herself, just for an
occasion like this. *I can't breathe!* Her mother was grinning at her
discomfiture, which she thought _particularly_ callous, but the
paroxysm passed. Val gasped in a deep breath. A warm rush suffused all
the way to her extremities, while her chest still felt as if it
contained a furnace. "Wow," she managed to croak, finally. Sarah
chuckled.

"Feel better now?"

Val nodded. "Or something." Her larynx wasn't quite functioning yet.

"Ready to talk?" Sarah was screwing the lid back on the bottle prior
to returning it to the freezer.

Val nodded, still off-balance. "You'd use inhibition-lowering drugs on
your own children then?" she asked boldly.

"Damn straight," Sarah replied, grabbing the corkscrew and a bottle of
wine out of the rack. One of the expensive special-occasion ones, Val
noticed, with the high alcohol content. "Get some glasses," she
instructed as she headed for the door, "and bring them through.
There's pizza getting cold out there." She was gone.

Barely a couple of minutes had passed in the kitchen, Val was
surprised to notice. The pizza would not have cooled much in that
time. She found the glasses and took a moment to bang her head a
couple of times on a cupboard door to settle her neurons. *She's
trying to make it easier for me,* she realized suddenly, finding a new
regard for her mother. *She could be being a real bitch about this,
and she's not.*

She went out to the living room.

***

"Figuring out where to start?"

Val sighed, nibbled at a potato wedge.

"Well," Sarah prompted, "What about the name? Where did 'Valerie' come
from?"

"Oh, uh," Val gulped. "Debbie liked it."

"Debbie? How long has this been going on?"

"Uh, a year?" Sarah looked shocked. "No, first time was Halloween
_last_ year. For the costume contest at school."

"It's been going on all that time?" Val nodded. "That's before..."

"Yeah."

***

The pizza was good. The wine was excellent. The conversation was
almost entirely one-sided. Val talked, and talked. Her mother
listened; more than at any time Val could remember, she _listened_.
Her questions weren't stupid either, in that 'I'm going to force you
to state the obvious just to humiliate you' way Val had been fearing.

***

Sarah sat back, looking at Val for a moment. Val blushed under the
gaze, and sipped her wine. "I'm just trying to see it," she said
eventually. "When you're so used to seeing someone a particular way,
and you suddenly realize it's not the way everyone else sees them..."

"I'm kind of in neutral mode at the moment," Val excused.

"Perhaps you should show me. Let me see you _not_ in neutral mode?"

"Mom..."

"I _am_ trying, Eugene," she said. "I'm trying really hard, okay?" Val
nodded. "I think I need to see this."

"Okay Mom."

"Finish your pizza first," Sarah suggested.

Val shook her head. "I've had enough, I'm full." She found her grin;
she'd been wondering where that was. "You're just afraid I'll spoil
your appetite," she cracked.

She got a poke in the arm for that one. She reckoned she'd got off
lightly.

***

"I guess they're talking about me right about now," Val said. "Dad and
Brian I mean."

Sarah nodded, finished her mouthful. "Probably."

Val sighed.

***

"I guess some of Susan's clothes would fit you," Sarah suggested. Val
giggled under her breath. "What?"

"I, um, have my own."

"Huh. Of course you do." She grinned. "Well, you going to show me?"

The pizza _had_ been demolished.

Val drained her glass. "You gonna give me some more wine?"

Sarah shrugged and topped up the glasses. "Anyway why are _you_ so
nervous, if you've been doing this so long already?"

"Well duh," Val replied. "'Cause it's you, of course. This is the
stuff of my nightmares." She took a large sip. "I keep wondering when
you're gonna set the dogs on me."

"There are no dogs," Sarah reminded her gently.

Val took another sip, put her glass down, and got up. "Okay, wait
here."

***

Val came down the stairs. She was surprised to find she wasn't as
nervous as she'd been the previous night. *Maybe that was the worst of
it,* she wondered. This wasn't actually telling her mother anything
she didn't already know, it was just that she'd be _seeing_ it.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and turned the corner into the
living room. She stopped, just inside, hands clasped in front of her.

Sarah stood there in the middle of the room. She'd gasped when Val
first came in, and stood there, wide-eyed, her hands covering her
mouth and nose as if frozen in the gasp, or as if she was peeking over
a cushion at something scary on TV.

Val had tried to guess what mothers like to see their daughters
wearing. She'd chosen a comfortable cotton skirt and a scoop-necked
top. On a sudden impulse she decided to eschew her forms in favor of
one of Valerie's new bras. Valerie had been right of course; it was a
lot more comfortable. Over the whole she threw on a pastel sweater she
planned to take off later. It wasn't cold downstairs, but it gave the
right look for first impressions. Opaque tights, to hide her legs, and
flats to finish. She went deliberately light on the make-up, and
brushed out and arranged her hair nicely, with a light blast of
hairspray to keep it there. For jewellery, she just added a single
silver necklace. In the mirror she thought she looked like the sort of
girl who _always_ got her homework in on time. Just right, she
thought, for her mother's first sight of her.

Seconds passed, feeling like minutes.

"Mom?"

"No it..." She took half a step forwards, managed to remove her hands
from her face. "No, you look good. Really - natural. I don't know what
I was expecting." She couldn't take her eyes of Val. Val blushed under
the attention. "C'mere," she said, opening her arms. Val flew into
them.

***

"You need more closet space," Sarah remarked, looking at the bags and
bags of clothes Val had removed and put on the bed.

"You sure? I mean, I don't need to fit myself inside it any more, do
I?" For that she got a gentle elbowing.

"Don't tease your old Mom, eh? She's trying hard you know."

"I know Mom."

She looked around the room, as if trying to remember when she was last
in here. "My, you're packed in here, aren't you." Val couldn't repress
a giggle. "_Look_ at this place, Eugene!" Val let the name pass,
thinking, *family's going to have to be trained not to do that in
public.* "If you just _did_ something with this room it could be so
much nicer in here." Val was hurt. She'd thought she kept the rat-hole
quite nicely these days, thank-you-very-much. She guessed 'nice' was a
relative term. "I mean," her mother was continuing, "do you _really_
still need all these computers in here?"

"Yes!" It was a reflex response. Sarah shrugged.

"I don't know," Sarah mused, "it just seems so - inefficient." That
was a harsh thing to say to a geek, and Val _knew_ it wasn't
accidental. No-one could live with an ubergeek like Bill Tucker, or
his young apprentice, without developing some effective
countermeasures. Val was about to retort with an explanation of what
each one did and why it had to be done that way, when she stopped and
looked around her. She counted up the system units, the monitors, the
keyboards, reckoned up the power consumption, the loss of space, the
noise levels. Sarah twisted the knife. "This has got to be
suboptimal." Val winced. "I don't know, perhaps a more elegant
solution can be found." *My mind is going,* she heard the room network
cry out, *Dave, I can feel it.*

"Uh, maybe," was all she managed to say. Even she had to concede that
as a defense of her system architecture choices it sucked.

"And what's in here?" Sarah continued her rampage, going to pull open
another closet.

"Mom! No!" It was too late; the catch was pulled, there was an ominous
creak, the doors bulged outwards and several ancient consoles and
joysticks and a box of old game cartridges tumbled out to the floor.
Sarah skipped back nimbly, so avoiding wounds to her feet. Val was
reminded briefly of Captain Kirk under a torrent of tribbles. The door
swung back revealing a mass of computer hardware; crates of spare
parts, descending like strata in a rock-face down through the ages.
Val couldn't see it, but there was an Altair in there somewhere that
she'd scrounged off Dad when she was eight. She could just see the
corner of the old Apple II, an _extremely_ rare imported BBC Micro's
red function keys peeked out of a dark place.

"Oh my God," Sarah whispered. "So this is where they go to die." Val
hung back. "You said you'd got rid of this stuff," she turned on Val.

"Mom... I _couldn't_."

Sarah sighed and picked up the battered old NES original off the floor
where it had fallen. "I can't believe you still _have_ this," she
muttered, trying without success to stuff it back into the closet.

"I'm gonna fix it!"

"_When?_"

"When I have time!"

Sarah took Val by the shoulders, shaking her slightly. "It's never
going to happen. You have a _life_ now."

"Bu-bu-bu- _Mom!_"

"I know dear, sometimes you just have to accept that these things
don't last forever."

"But they _doooo!_" Val pouted. "They _can!_"

Sarah shook her head sadly, just managing to keep a straight face.
"I'm sorry, I know it's upsetting, but you see, there's this big games
arcade in the sky where all the old machines go when they die, and all
the unborn children can play with them forever." She couldn't manage
it any longer; her mouth twitched and she began to giggle. Val lost it
about the same time and they both just stood there, leaning against
each other laughing for a minute or two.

Val looked at the mass of hardware. Two Mac Classics stared out at her
reproachfully, their screens blank. They would never smile again, she
knew that really. "Maybe I can find a computer museum that'll take
them," she wondered. Tipping them into a dumpster was just
inconceivable.

***

They were back downstairs. Val had kicked off her flats so she could
curl her legs up on the sofa. The sweater had been dumped upstairs.
"Valerie Valerie Valerie," Sarah repeated to herself, while watching
her, as if to fix it there. Val found herself blushing under the
attention again. She took another large sip from her glass.

"Most people just call me Val."

Sarah shook her head. "Shouldn't shorten names. It's demeaning."

Val giggled. "Like Bill?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. Val realized suddenly it was exactly the same
gesture as she'd seen Valerie make. Therefore she probably did it too.
"Your father insisted." She took a drink. "I lost that one."

"Like you lost on the guns?" Sarah groaned. "What did you win on,
Mom?"

"Aha." She thought about it. "Personal hygiene." Val giggled again.
"The toilet seat. Clothes in the closet not on the floor." Val was
laughing out loud now. "Getting my sister to teach you how to cook.
That was a _definite_ win," she grinned.

"What?"

"Oh yes. Well you know how useless your father is in the kitchen. I
wasn't going to have that for _my_ sons, dammit."

"That was _your_ idea?"

"Uh-huh," she raised a glass to toast herself. Val followed. "Talking
of which, it's probably time Brian learned too."

"He can cook!"

"The basics, yeah. Hmm. Maybe I'll send _him_ to Aunt Louisa. Get that
gumbo recipe into the family once and for all."

"Ah. She already gave it me." Val grinned. "July Fourth."

"What? The _bitch!_ She wouldn't tell _me!_"

Val shrugged, grinning wider.

***

_Pop_ went the cork on the third bottle.

"You're getting me drunk," Val accused.

"Uh-huh." Sarah grinned. "Payback's a bitch."

"Oh. Right." Val grinned back and passed her glass over.

***

"So, Valerie," it sounded weird coming from her mother's mouth,
surrounded as it was by virtual quote marks, "is there any boy that's
turned your head yet?" Val blushed, deeply. "Ah, there _is!_"

Val nodded, eventually. "I wasn't going to tell you about that yet."
She remarked dryly. "I wasn't going to tell you about _any_ of this
yet."

"I'm glad you have. The last few months have been hell." She sighed.
"I knew _something_ was going on, I just couldn't put my finger on it.
I think I didn't really want to," she admitted. "I'm usually smarter
than that."

"I'm sorry."

"So anyway, what's his name? Where does he live? What school does he
go to? Who do his parents vote for? What's their credit-rating?" Val
was giggling again. "What's his SAT score?"

"Mom!"

"Nah, you don't have to tell me. Your father'll find out later." She
grinned.

"Oh no!"

"Oh yes." Deadly serious.

Val sighed. "His name's Travis," she said eventually, "and he's really
sweet, okay? He's never done anything to hurt me."

"Does he know about you?" After a pause Val nodded. "What does he
think?"

"Um. He's okay with it."

"You sound like you're not sure."

"_You're_ starting to sound like Sheila, stop it!"

Sarah nodded. "You're right. It's natural for a mother to be worried
though, okay?"

Val nodded back. "Anyway Susan checked him out. And Amy. And the Pack.
And Mike. He's just a nice guy, Mom."

"Have you been to bed with him?"

It took a long time again, but Val nodded. After that length of pause
the nod was redundant, she supposed. Sarah sighed. "We're safe though.
We use condoms and everything..."

"Oh Eu-Valerie..." She sighed again. "I'm sure you did, you weren't
brought up to be stupid. It's just..." A tear dropped. "It's just that
I wish - I wish that it could have been right for you."

Val reached out to her, then. "It's okay Mom. Really it is." Sarah
started to cry properly. It was Val's turn to gather her mother into a
hug. "It's still good," she whispered into her ear. "It's nice. And we
love each other."

"It's just not fair," Sarah said, "This shouldn't be happening to
you."

"Who _should_ it be happening to, Mom?"

***

"I'm not in pain, Mom. I'm not sick.

"Perhaps - perhaps this was just how I was meant to be.

"So it makes me different. We're the Tuckers. Since when was being
different a bad thing? It's not as if I'm not _human_.

"It only hurt when I was trying to fight it. It felt like - like I was
trying to kill or like I was being made to kill.

"I wanted to be like Dad. I just wanted to be like Dad. Guess he can't
have done too badly, eh? Lots of sons want to be anything _but_ like
their dads and they end up like them anyway.

"I have to let go of that. I'm letting go of it.

"Someone said - it's all about doing whatever you have to do to be
yourself.

"It doesn't hurt me."

***

"Ice cream?" Sarah asked. She still sounded brittle.

"Oh yeah."

"Go get it then."

Val stuck her tongue out at her, but went.

***

"Hello cat," Val greeted the inquisitive one. "Want some ice cream
too?"

"Oh look at his nose going," Sarah laughed. "Go on then, give him
some." Val put a couple of blobs of the melting ice cream into the
upturned lid and set it down on the carpet. "But if he tracks
chocolate into my carpet I'll skin him," Sarah added.

"'People who declaw their cats and scold their children for damaging
their furniture don't deserve cats, or children, or furniture,'" Val
quoted. "Heinlein. I think."

"Probably. Sounds like him."

"You read Heinlein?"

"When I was younger," she admitted. "Don't worry, you'll get over it."

"Ouch."

They watched while the cat lapped up the ice cream. He finished and
came round to investigate Val's wine glass, but he didn't like the
smell of that, so went to the table and stood up on his hind legs to
reach the pizza box.

"Ahht!" Val called. "Leave that alone." She was being ignored.
"FFFSSSHHH!" That made the little fuzzball take notice. He dropped
down quickly and faced Val with a guilty look.

"We're in danger of spoiling him," Sarah commented.

"Aww. C'mere puss." Val scratched at the sofa material next to her.
The cat just sat there licking his lips, having decided he wasn't
really in trouble.

"Nah. Only got eyes for Brian."

***

"Do we have to tell Dad yet? About Travis I mean."

Sarah sighed. "You can't hide these things forever, you know."

"I know. But do we have to tell him _yet?_ I should talk to him first.
Travis, that is."

"Warn him?"

Val chuckled. "Something like that. 'Run away, before it's too late!'"

"When are you next seeing him?"

"Uh, we don't have a next date planned, but I could phone and - maybe
not tonight," she finished, noticing the time. "I'll call him
tomorrow."

"Oh God, the time," Sarah concurred. "And I've got _work_ tomorrow."

Val decided she liked being on break without a job. "Oh," she
remembered. "I'm starting the babysitting job again, it looks like."

"Oh damn, we're losing you for chore duty then?"

Val grinned. "Yep."

"I suppose _they_ know you as Valerie too," Sarah said, only a trace
of cattiness in her voice.

"Uh, well. They asked for a girl, and Debbie was kinda stuck." Sarah
was shaking her head, smiling. "And then it went really well and they
kept asking for me." Sarah was laughing. "What?"

***

*Whodathunkit?* Val crash-landed on her bed. *Wow. Mom.*

*What a week I'm having.*

She slept. And there were no nightmares.

***

Flashing lights. Phone. "Yup?"

"Hey wake up, it's your doppelganger."

"Hi Valerie. What's up?"

"'M bored. It's my last day and I wanna have some fun."

"Mmm. Could help me get this damn MIDI interface running under
Linux..."

There was a rude noise from the other end of the line.

"Well whaddya need me for anyway?"

"I got some ideas. Just thought you'd like to join in, that's all."

"Oh God I'm tired."

"Yeah?"

"Mom knows about Val. And Travis."

"Wheee! Shit girl, when you come out you don't mess around do you?"

Val laughed. "It's all your fault, I'm sure of it."

"How's it _my_ fault?"

"You're carrying an improbability field generator or something."

"Hah. I wish."

"We ordered pizza. Guess who delivered it."

"Er..."

"Pizza-face?"

"Oh no."

"Yeah. And I specifically didn't use Pizza Hut in case."

"Oh but he works for Papa John's now. I coulda told you that."

"Well let's just say that got the ball rolling. Like the one in
Raiders. Hey! Stop laughing!"

"No Val, it's good. Really. Do you feel any better?"

"Yeah actually. Kinda cleaned out, you know? Like being able to
breathe again."

"Yeah. It's a good feeling. So, you coming out to play?"

"I don't know. I'm kinda weirded out, you know?" Valerie laughed.
"Think I just want to hang for the day, but I'll call you back in a
bit once I'm up. Oh, and I gotta phone Trav. I gotta warn him."

Valerie laughed. "Poor bastard."

"May have a date tonight. If he's not busy already."

"I could bring Debs for a double-date?"

Val spluttered in alarm. "Oh that's so _not_ a good idea." She could
almost _hear_ Valerie grinning from the other end.

***

"Travis?"

"Hey you."

"Hey you yourself."

"What's up?"

"I want to see you. Tonight." *Did that sound too needy? Or does it
count as assertive?*

"Tonight? Uh. Aw damn, can't tonight. Uh. Got the guys coming round,
we're gonna watch the game, drink beer, you know, do the jock thing,"
Val grinned at that.

"I'm going to have to sort your priorities out," she told him.
"Anyway, I want to get together 'cause we need to talk about stuff.
Not bad stuff," she added hurriedly, "just developments, you know?"
She sighed, still smiling, which was a bit confusing. "We haven't
talked enough lately."

"Um, yeah, sure."

"You okay, Trav?" She thought he sounded a bit distracted or
something.

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine. You just caught me before going out, that's all."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay Val. How about tomorrow night? I'll page you?"

"Aw no. We're all off to my Mom's family in New York state tomorrow. I
won't get to see you until the new _year!_"

There was a pause. "We'll do something nice then?" Travis offered
eventually.

"I suppose," Val sighed, all momentum stolen. *You could have sounded
more upset,* she beamed down the phone line.

"I gotta go, Val. You look after yourself, okay? And give Amy a kiss
from me," he added. It made Val feel better.

"Yeah, okay. See you then."

"Bye." Click.

Val looked at the handset for a moment. "He gotta go," she remarked,
feeling somehow unsatisfied.

She shrugged it off and got up.

***

"Mom? I thought you had work today?"

Sarah shook her head, while cradling a cup of coffee. "They can do
without me today. Who buys houses just before Christmas anyway,
right?" There was more coffee in the machine, so Val busied herself
pouring another cup. "Aren't you going out with your friends again?"

"I could use a day off too," Val grinned weakly, got it back.

"I was thinking, I haven't bought anyone's presents yet."

Val chuckled, spotting the trap, and deliberately setting her foot in
it. "Nor have I."* *Sarah had that grin on her face.

"Well," she said, reeling her child in, "I was thinking of going
downtown, check out that new Lazarus store, wander around, see the
lights, the tree, look at nice things to buy people, you know, things
_old_ people like to do..."

"Yes, Mom, I'd love to come," She knew when she was beaten.

"Would you? Oh, but I was going to get yours too. Now when am I going
to be able to do that?"

Val slapped her mother's shoulder gently, laughing.

"Um," she said a little later, "who _exactly_ do you want to come with
you?"

Sarah smiled. "_You_ of course." Her smile was radiant, Val suddenly
noticed.

"Good answer," she had to admit.

***
---

"Johansson Residence," answered an English princess of Val's
acquaintance. "Who may I say is calling?"

Val took just a moment. "Ah," she answered in like manner, "Would you
please inform Sir Michael that a dear old friend would like to speak
with him."

"Yes ma'am." Val almost _saw_ the curtsey through the phone line. "The
master is currently occupied with his morning ablutions. Would ma'am
like me to interrupt him?"

Val laughed. "No Valerie, that's okay," she said, dropping out of the
voice. "Best not to walk in on Mike's private moments, I've found."

"Yeah," Valerie giggled. "So, whatsup?"

"Ah, Mom's blown off work, wants to take me downtown for Christmas
shopping."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, kind of a bonding thing I think. It's cool though," she added.

"Cool. You seem to be doing better with her than I did anyway,
afterwards." There was a sigh from the other end of the phone. "Dunno
what it is you're doing, but you're doing it right I guess."

"Oh Valerie, I'm sorry." She really was. "There's worse things I could
be doing, right?"

"Oh sure. For a start you could disappear without a trace."

"Oh Valerie." There was silence from the phone. "I'm hugging you."

"I know."

More silence.

"Anyway," Valerie continued eventually, "What's happening with Travis?
You seeing him tonight?"

"No. Said he's got friends coming round to watch a game or something.
Said it was a jock thing," she added, smiling.

"Game, huh? Figures. Aw, no double-date with Debbie then."

"Absolutely not! Anyway, how d'you know Debbie's even free tonight?"
Valerie, Val decided, was altogether too good at projecting
expressions down a phone line. "You've already asked her," she
accused.

"Her cellphone's got a different number than my Debs. Had to pull it
out of Arrakis. You should change your passwords more often."

"Guilty as charged," Val admitted. "What's the damage?"

"Now would I do a thing like that?"

"I've no idea." Val switched to the headset and logged into Arrakis.
"Anyway, you're actually going out with Debbie tonight?"

"Uh-huh."

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"Nope. But sometimes you just got to make a leap, you know?" Val
nodded. "It doesn't feel wrong. We're just going out for a date, okay?
I'm not counting on anything beyond that if that's what you're
wondering."

"Hey, I'm not judging you."

"Yeah, I know."

"Just - you know, what Mike says: Think, okay?"

"Yeah, I know. He's already been saying it."

"Well there you go." She beamed a grin back down the line. "Whatcha
doing before that anyway?"

Valerie laughed. "Classified. What you don't know..."

"I can't testify to, right. Just don't get me in trouble? Please?"

"Not a chance."

***

They were stuck in traffic. "I guess other people had the same idea,"
Val offered.

"Still has to be better than the last Saturday before, right?"

"I guess." At least she didn't have to drive, so Val just put her head
back and relaxed. "Oh," she remembered. "For God's sake don't call me
Eugene today, okay?"

Sarah chuckled. "Yeah, I'd figured that out."

"I know. Just don't forget, okay? Say it at the wrong time and - bad
things could happen."

"I'll be careful, _Eugene_," she teased.

"I _mean_ it Mom. I could get killed."

"Don't you think you're overreacting?"

"No, Mom, I don't. Not when there's been a Klan cross in the square at
Christmas for as many years as I can remember." *Since Mike brought it
to my attention anyway,* Val added to herself.

Sarah drove on for a few moments in silence. "They're not welcome
here," she said eventually.

"But they _are_ here. And they're just the _visible_ ones. Some people
love to hate, and they're just looking for a reason. Why give it to
them on a plate?"

Sarah was silent again for a while. In that time she reached over and
took Val's hand.

"So what you're saying," she continued, "is that as long as you can
hide, it's okay?" Val frowned, wondering what she was getting at. Her
mother's attention was half taken on driving, so she couldn't read her
expression, but she kept hold of Val's hand, thanks to the gods of
power steering and automatic transmission. "Because it's not written
there for all to see, oh, just for instance, like your skin being a
different color, and you can be invisible and pretend to be a normal
average person, that makes it all right?"

"Mom..."

"Maybe it's just my generation," she muttered, "and far be it from me
to tell my so - child to take more risks, but you are not _ever_ to be
ashamed of yourself for what you are." Her grip on Val's hand was
actually starting to hurt. "You understand me?"

"Mom you're hurting..." Her hand was released, suddenly, as if her
mother had just realized what she was doing.

"It's not fair," Sarah was saying. "What's happening to you, it's not
fair. Look, I'm not saying you have to be an activist, okay? I'm just
saying: Don't be afraid. You be who you're going to be, and don't let
fear get in and make you try to be something you're not. That's the
whole point isn't it?" Val just sat and watched her mother in awe.
"Live in fear, and change who you are just to be safe, and they've
won. They don't even need to do anything."

"Oh Mom..."

"Besides. Anyone hurts you and they'll have me _and_ your father to
deal with."

Val managed a chuckle. "They'd have to scrape 'em off the pavement."

"You think they'd find that much?" Sarah replied, deadpan, then ruined
it with a sidelong wink. Val thought she was actually relieved.

***

"It's not here."

Val felt her mother's arm close around her shoulders. "There, you
see?" Val nodded and leaned slightly against her for a moment. They
moved around to the menorah. "We stand against hate." It was like, Val
thought, a voice from a bygone, more idealistic age.

They stood for a little time, while shoppers bustled around them.

"Come on Valerie, let's get inside before my old bones freeze. We can
come back later when the lights are on."

"You're not old."

"Hmph."

***

"Oh, I've got to get that for Susan. It's perfect..."

***

"Have you thought what to get your father?"

"Ooh, socks I think. And maybe a tie."

"Oh he'll appreciate those _so_ much."

Val grinned. "I got something in mind, but they won't have it here."

***

"I was thinking this for Amy?"

"Oh yes. Though I'm not sure Trish would approve, it's a bit..."

"Sexy?"

"Hmm."

"Well duh. Amy's not a little girl any more. She'll love it, I
guarantee. Hang on, I'll just try it on..."

"Eu - Valerie! You mean here? In the store?"

"Well yeah, Mom. We're close enough in size, if I can wear it, so can
she."

***

"Whatcha think?"

"Um..."

"Ignore the shoes." She perched up on the balls of her feet for a few
moments to simulate heels.

"No I mean - seeing you dressed like that, that's all."

"It's not _that_ risque - Oh." Val blushed slightly and sagged back
onto her heels. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's all right. I _am_ finding it difficult," she admitted, "But
that's my problem, not yours. You have enough of your own."

Val hugged her mother.

"I feared the worst for you. Really. This is a relief compared to
those fears. So I'm happy. Okay?" Val nodded. "I'm losing my son," she
continued. "Only I'm not after all, because you're really just the
same as you've always been. Only more so, somehow. Brighter. Am I
making sense?"

"Uh, sort of."

"It's nice to be finally getting to know you. Well besides, I've got a
whole spare son prepared just in case," she grinned. Val laughed out
loud. She knew it was unladylike, but it had to be done.

***

"You going to change back or do the rest of the store like that?"

*Oops.* "Well, it _is_ kinda warm in here," she teased.

***

"Hmm, if you're that close to Amy in size, you can try on some other
stuff for me, thinking about it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, you may as well be _useful_."

Val stuck her tongue out at her.

***

"Well?"

"To be honest I don't think she'd ever wear it, Mom."

"Why not? It's lovely."

"It's not _her_. Trust me on this. It's kind of - what an _aunt_ would
get, you know?"

Mom sighed, looking again. "Yes, you're right. I'm getting staid in my
old age."

"'ang on lads," Val put on her best Michael Caine voice. "I've got an
idea." She disappeared back into the changing room.

***

"Look, why don't we just split up and meet somewhere at, say four?"

"Cool. Where?"

"The restaurant upstairs? I know I'll be ready to collapse by then."

"'Kay. I'll see you then."

***

"Okay, let's recap," Mom said, once the waitress had taken their
order. "I've done yours, Susan's and Brian's."

"That's the spawn taken care of then," Val grinned, "You've done
everyone important."

"Swim my pretty tadpoles, swim!" Mom grinned back. "You do realize of
course you've just become much easier to buy presents for."

"Yeah?"

Sarah did not elaborate. "Anyway, done Trish and Amy. Done Lanier and
Louisa, not that we're seeing them til the new year. Haven't done
Bill, don't know _what_ to get your grandfather..."

"What do you get the man who's had everyone?"

"Eu-" she stopped herself in time. "Valerie, honestly." Val grinned.
"Anyway, what about you?"

"Done Brian, done Dad, done you. Still thinking about Mike. Done
George, Book and Dan though. Done Kelly. Done most of the Pack
already, but now Debbie and me are talking again I guess I should get
her something."

"Debbie and _I_," Mom corrected automatically. "Well that's good
anyway. What changed?"

"Long story," Val sighed, wanting to avoid bringing Valerie into the
conversation. "Anyway, we're friends now, I guess, so I'll get her
something. Haven't done Susan yet."

"So what were you thinking for Susan?"

Val shook her head. "I have no idea."

"Okay, well there's something I happen to know she'd like, but I got
her something else I'd already set my heart on for her." She smiled.

***

The door opened. "Valerie! It's been _ages!_"

"Hi Miz Carstairs."

"Oh come on, you always called me Helen, remember? Debbie said you two
had finally made it up, whatever it was. She's still getting ready.
Come inside!"

Valerie waved thanks-and-ok at Mike, waiting in the car, and stepped
inside. It was slightly jarring to find that the redecorating work
with which she'd helped in the fall was undone. It was still the old
decor. "Yes, it's good to have that cleared up at last," she said,
thinking *Okay I just crossed a line. Actually pretending to be Val
now.* She hoped she could keep things vague enough to not do any
damage. *What does Helen know of what happened anyway?*

"I love what you've done with your hair by the way."

"Er, thanks," she smiled. "I was thinking of going back to my natural
color actually." *Covered for next time she sees Val, hopefully.*

"Oh that would be a shame. It suits you."

"And my own color doesn't?" she teased.

"I didn't say that." Helen grinned to show she knew she was being
teased. "Did you want to go on back to see her?"

Valerie shook her head. "That's okay, I'll wait and let her make her
entrance."

"Honestly," Helen chided, "if I didn't know better I'd say you two
were going on a date."

Valerie raised an eyebrow. "I couldn't possibly comment, Miz
Carstairs." *Hoping you're not too different from your counterpart,*
she thought to herself.

Helen had a visible double-take, and blushed for a moment. "Well...
Anyway, why don't you take your coat off and make yourself
comfortable? I don't know how long she's going to be."

"Oh, um, thanks." Valerie slipped her coat off her shoulders and
handed it over. She was wearing the dress she'd bought earlier. She
was proud of the choice, and had her judgement confirmed as Helen
actually _whistled_.

"Sorry," Helen apologized. "I spend too much time around cops. You
look amazing, Valerie. Really."

"I tried," Valerie blushed. She had, too. Jane would be proud of her.
A thing of black crushed velvet, off the shoulder and unfussy, set off
by the single half-necklace at her throat. She wore her hair up again,
knowing it gave her more elegance.

"Where are you two going anyway?"

Valerie grinned. "Debbie doesn't know yet." She was feeling especially
pleased with herself for getting the tickets at such short notice too,
for all that it had necessitated a hair-raising dash across the city
on the bike. Shucks. She was a bit peeved at having bought them twice
now, having planned to take _her_ Debbie to the same thing, but she
hadn't wanted to miss it. "I'll let her tell you about it afterwards."

"Ya sure ya wanna take de brat?" Helen put on her gangster voice,
hooking her thumb over her shoulder towards the back rooms. "I'll go
wid' ya, doll-face..."

"Mom!" Valerie looked up from Helen's mischievous grin, to see Debbie
at the doorway. She was lovely, Valerie thought, in a rich dark green
dress she'd never seen before.

They just stared at each other for a few moments.

"Well, girls," Helen butted in, "what time do you need to be on your
way?"

Valerie looked at her watch. "Now, really, to have time to park." She
glanced back at Debbie. "If you're ready? You _look_ ready," she added
with a grin.

"I'm ready," Debbie nodded.

"How are you getting there?" Helen asked. "Debbie driving?"

Debbie nodded.

"Okay, what if I drive you two wherever it is?"

"Mom - don't you have a shift tonight?"

"Nope. Besides, daughter-mine, by the looks of you I don't think
you're going to be able to keep your eyes on the road." Debbie
actually blushed. Valerie was impressed.

"Mom will you please stop embarrassing me?"

"It's my job," she grinned. "I'm serious though. I'll take you both
there."

"Um, what about getting back?"

"Well, we could get a cab..." Valerie suggested.

"I can pick you up too, I just need to know the time."

"We were kind of planning to go out to dinner afterwards," Debbie
explained. "We're not sure what time we'd be back."

"I told you I'm not taking this dress onto a dance-floor," Valerie
warned.

"I know. I just - we could be pretty late, you know?" She nodded,
making a decision. "We'll get a cab back. I'd love you to take us,
Mom."

"Good. Then there's time to take some pictures."

***

Val discovered she was actually feeling at peace. Her feet hurt
terribly, even in flats. A day's intensive shopping will tend to do
that. The tree was lit up, of course, as were the fountain lights
shifting colors under the water. Skaters turned and wheeled nearby.
Somewhere live music was playing. "It's so _Christmassy!_" Val
exclaimed suddenly. "I think I'm going to explode."

"I think we lost the santas though," Sarah laughed.

"And - we got all the presents!"

"It's _done!_" They high-fived. They were almost empty-handed; once
they got to the car they'd have to drive back to the customer
collection point to pick everything up.

"That just leaves the food to take care of, once we get settled in at
the other end." Sarah sighed.

"Oh, yeah, it's your turn again isn't it."

"Actually," Sarah mused, "we were thinking, this year perhaps _you_
could organize all that."

"Oh _Mom!_" Val saw long carefree hours with Amy and her Playstation
evaporating before her eyes.

"Well, ya shouldn'a got so good, kid," Sarah cackled. Val trudged on,
disconsolately. "Anyway," Sarah continued, "you're not thinking this
through. You'll be _in charge_ of the food."

*Oh yeah.* Val brightened, and flashed a deeply evil grin at her
mother. Organizing the food at these occasions was traditionally an
exercise in delegation, and skimming the fun jobs off the top. In
other words, *someone else gets to peel and chop and _I_ say who!* She
walked on, light on her feet now, grinning.

***

This was definitely a more civilized way to arrive, Valerie decided.
The city could actually be quite pretty from the back-seat of a Blazer
with a gorgeous girl by your side. Then stepping out at your
destination and discovering you're both hot enough to turn heads, oh
yes, but playing it cool, girl, playing it cool, oh that is sweet, one
bare arm against another, goose-bumps in the cold crossing the
sidewalk but not passing up the chance to look this cool, oh no, and
not all the goose-bumps were the cold anyway.

The theater was tiny. It barely sat fifty people, Valerie guessed, the
audience mostly surrounding a small platform stage so close you could
touch it. And Debbie, luminous Debbie, her eyes showing Valerie that
she had the same look too.

Not for the first time Valerie wondered if she was doing the right
thing. She wondered if this was being unfaithful to her Debbie; the
one back home. She guessed so, but on the other hand, she felt, if she
was fated never to go home, she wanted one last perfect night with
Debbie, even if it wasn't the right one, to say goodbye. She supposed
it was selfish of her, but she'd made no secret of her intentions.
Either way she was gone tomorrow.

The lights dipped, the chattering in the audience faded and
disappeared. Debbie's hand found Valerie's in the darkness. "If music
be the food of love, play on."

***

Dad's car was parked in the driveway. "Oh God," Val whispered.

"There's nothing to worry about," Sarah tried to reassure her.

"They don't know about Val," Val replied.

"I left an email for your father before we left this morning," Sarah
admitted. "And deliberately kept us out long enough that he'd have
time to talk to Brian after they got back."

"Oh God." She found she was shaking. "After everything that's happened
I'm scared of my kid brother?"

"I know."

"I just wish I was sure this is what I should be doing," Val said.

"Well, then you have to find out, don't you. You can't find out
without trying."

Val took a deep breath, and another. "I guess that makes sense. So why
does it _feel_ so permanent?"

Sarah squeezed her hand, smiling. "Come on, let's get it over with,
eh?"

***

"Reservation for two, name of Valerie Tucker?" Marciano's was full,
even for the late sitting. Valerie was glad she'd booked.

"Yes Miss Tucker, your table's ready. Would you like to come on
through?"

They allowed the maitre'd to take their coats and seat them. Valerie
realized suddenly it was the same table as... She must have stopped in
thought, she realized, when Debbie tapped her arm.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Um, yeah. Just realized, you remember that first date with Travis a
year ago?" *Before our timelines diverged.* Debbie nodded.

"He brought you here?"

"This actual table."

"You want to move?"

Valerie thought about it. "Nah. I've got a much nicer view this time,"
she grinned.

"You're incorrigible."

"Don't incorrige me then."

Debbie was musing. "A year. Wow. That's a thought: what did you do for
Halloween this year?"

"Ah." Valerie grinned again. "Wouldn't you like to know."

"As a matter of fact, yes."

"Let's just say _I_ got to wear the sword this time."

Debbie's eyes opened wide, but their waiter turned up before she could
respond.

"Would you ladies like any drinks while you're looking at the menu?"

"Ooh yes." Even watching Shakespeare could be thirst-making. She felt
sorry for the actors, if it was anything like singing. "Do you have
any smoothies?"

***

Debbie stood up. "No, you're fine dear," she said as Valerie
automatically started to get up too. "I really do just need to pee,"
she admitted, _sotto-voce_.

Valerie grinned and watched her go.

"Hey, Valerie," a familiar male voice called. Friendly. She looked up.

"Bobby, hi! You remembered my name at last!"

"Huh?"

"Never mind." Perhaps it was just coincidence. He had to hit it right
_sometimes_ just out of random chance. She hoped Bobby didn't want to
join them. This wasn't supposed to be that kind of dinner. "You just
got here?"

"Nah, we're just leaving. This is Marie by the way. Marie, this is
Valerie. Wow, love the hair. Trav seen that yet?"

*Erk. Erk.* "No," she extemporized. "And it's a surprise, so don't you
say anything either."

"Sure thing," he said, chuckling.

Something was nagging at Valerie's memory. She dug for a while. *Oh
yes.* "Hey, I thought you'd be round at his place tonight, watching
the game. Guess you got more important things to attend to, huh?" She
smiled at the girl. Marie.

"Game? What game?" Bobby looked startled. "I'm missing a game?"

"I don't know," Valerie said. "He just said something about having you
guys around to watch a game tonight."

"I didn't hear about it," Bobby said.

Valerie shrugged. "I probably didn't hear him right. Anyway, where are
you guys off to next?"

"Dancing! You wanna join us later?"

"Nah. Got other plans," she grinned. "See you around anyway."

"Yeah. Always good to see you."

They left, thankfully before Debbie returned.

Valerie frowned.

***

"Thank you for a wonderful evening," Debbie said. They'd arrived at
her house, but were still in the back of the cab.

Valerie blushed, then was surprised as Debbie leaned over and kissed
her, full on the lips. Never mind the cab driver could see them in the
mirror.

Oh it was sweet. Let the meter run.

"Come inside with me?" Debbie asked, after a long while.

"Um," Valerie hesitated at the last. "Are you sure?"

Debbie held her eyes. "Yes. I'm sure." She smiled. Valerie hesitated
still. Oh she wanted to... "Don't you go seducing me all evening and
then leave me dangling now," Debbie warned. "I don't think the
neighborhood would survive." Valerie caught a giggle half-formed.
"It's not like this is a first date you know."

The trick, she decided, with learning to say no, was learning _when_
to say it.

And when to shut up.

***

"Hey lover." Sunlight.

Valerie smiled without opening her eyes. "Hey."

"You need to get up. You've got an appointment, right?"

"Mmmm." For a moment Valerie considered just staying, and letting the
chance come and go. *Not as if it was really going to work anyway.*
Only for a moment. "What time is it?"

"There's time. It's eight-thirty."

"Need to get back to Mike's, pick up my bike and gear."

"I'll take you. I want to come and see you off anyway."

"Assuming I'm going anywhere."

Debbie cuddled up close. "Wouldn't it be great if you could come and
go at will?"

"I don't think it works like that," she sighed.

"You never know. You don't know how it works."

"True. Chances are nothing'll happen at all. We've got no reason to
believe this will work, except it's where it started and there's a
kind of symmetry to it. Not very scientific, huh?"

Debbie sighed. "Is it bad for me to want you to stay?"

"I won't be staying anyway, Debbie, even if I don't go home. You know
that."

"I wish you would."

"Who knows, perhaps somewhere out there, I do."

"Then why not here? Why always somewhere else? Why am _I_ the one who
has to lose you twice?"

"Debbie. It can't work. I'm not real here. I'm just in the way. If I'm
going to have a real life I have to go away to do it."

"I don't see that!" Debbie protested. "I want you to stay," she said
more calmly.

"I can't."

"Stay."

Valerie shook her head . "No, Debbie."

"Well _fuck_ you anyway!" Valerie came fully awake fast at the
outburst. *Here we go then,* she thought grimly. The mattress bounced
as Debbie stormed off the bed.

"Debbie..." Valerie disentangled herself from the sheets and followed.

"How dare you come here and do this to me?" Debbie railed. "How _dare_
you! I was _over_ you!" With the last she pounded at Valerie's chest,
but Valerie was prepared and blocked her. And again. And a third time,
each time Debbie repeating "I was over you," until the tears came;
then Valerie gathered her in and they embraced, standing naked in the
early sunlight in the middle of the room.

"I'm sorry," Valerie whispered. "I shouldn't - last night was wrong, I
shouldn't..."

"No," Debbie sniffled. "Last night was beautiful. Last night was
beautiful, Valerie, and I'm just trying to ruin it with my poor little
sick-girl act. Again." She separated from Valerie. "You're better off
without me anyway. I hurt everyone in the end, hadn't you noticed?"

"That's not true."

"Yes it is." She went to grab her bathrobe, absently getting the spare
for Valerie and passing it to her. "I'm in therapy, did you know?"

"I'm - not surprised," Valerie replied carefully, putting the robe on.
Now that they'd stopped, the room turned out to be surprisingly cold.

"_She_ is too then?"

Valerie nodded.

"Is it helping?"

"Yes."

"Doesn't seem to be doing a damn thing for me," Debbie muttered.

"She says exactly the same thing, half the time."

Debbie chuckled. "Yeah, sounds about right I guess. Kathy says I'm
better than I was anyway." She moved in to hug Valerie again. Valerie
enclosed her. "I'm sorry."

"There. You wouldn't have said that six months ago."

Debbie giggled again. "Anyway, talking of which," she gathered her
competent persona around her again, "we've got to get you ready for
your appointment."

***

Valerie started to feel her head clear as she rode. It always had that
effect. It had to, or you were dangerous to be on the road. She wished
more cagers realized that. The thoughts came now, calmly, clearly,
without upset.

Debbie had dropped her off at Mike's and disappeared again without
lingering. "Wait for me," she'd said though. "Don't go without me.
I'll be there. I have to do something first."

That was typical Debbie. She'd stop in the middle of giving birth to
close a deal.

*Not that she'd have a chance to do that if she stayed with me.*
"We'll use a donor," her Debbie had said to that, all businesslike,
like it was obvious. She'd already thought it all through of course.
"But that's _years_ away, lover."

"Who'd be the father? Anonymous?"

"I was thinking of your brother."

"What Tu-Brian I mean? God, they're getting _me_ calling him that
now."

"No, silly. Mike. He's closer to you than genes. Can you think of
anyone's child you'd rather have?"

*Bring me home,* Valerie thought, back in the present. She was
actually praying, she realized, not knowing who or what to. *Bring me
home.*

***

Valerie leaned and curved into the clinic's parking lot. Val was
already there, getting out of the car as Valerie pulled to a halt.

"Mike's on his way, behind me," she explained as soon as she had the
helmet off. "So's Debbie. Says she wants to give me a send-off." She
grinned.

Val looked at her. "You were with her all night?"

Valerie nodded.

"Why am I not surprised?" Val shook her head.

"You okay with it?"

"Yeah, I'm okay."

"How was yesterday anyway?"

Val smiled. "We had a good day. Got _everyone's_ presents all at
once."

"She seems to be taking it so much better than mine," Valerie mused.
"What's your secret?"

Val shrugged. "No idea." She thought. "Perhaps she got to see more how
bad I'd get if I _didn't_ do it."

"Yeah maybe. You were such a mess when I came, I was kind of shocked,
you know? My God, I can't believe it's only been a week. Look at you!"

"It's you. Like I said, you've got an improbability device or
something. Stuff happens around you."

"Not you too?"

"Things were getting kind of..." she stopped to search for a word.
"Entropic?" Valerie nodded. "Maybe that'll change now," she grinned.

"Mike was going off on one - something about Native American mythology
or something."

"Yeah?"

"I said to can it. I'm not a bloody avatar of anything. I just want to
go home."

"Ah, but you would say that," Val teased.

"Yep, that's what he said." She sighed. "At least _my_ Mike's in a
Wicca phase at the moment. That's much more restful. Less drumming,"
she elucidated, to Val's puzzled expression. "Incense, candles, you
know."

"Talking of which, here he comes now." Sounds some distance off,
Valerie guessed, turning and not seeing any sign of it.

"That engine's got to be illegal," she muttered, looking at her watch.
"Where's Debbie? Anyway, so you're going to tell Sheila today?"

"Not like I need to be afraid of her telling Mom and Dad now."

"God, you're doing it _all_ different from me."

"Yeah? Well, what are alternate realities for, huh?"

Mike's car roared sluggishly into the parking lot.

Valerie grinned. "Right. So, when do you transition?"

"I haven't decided to do that," Val replied. "Yet, anyway. Dad says I
obviously need to try it. Properly, not part-time, to see how it works
out."

"Duh, what do you think RLT is, dummy?"

"Huh?"

Valerie shook her head. "Never mind. Sheila can tell you. Hi Mike."

"You all ready to go then?"

"Guess so. Just hoping Debbie's gonna get here in - oof!" She caught
Val, flying into a hug.

"I'm really going to miss you," Val said into her shoulder.

"I'll miss you too," she replied, returning the hug. "You know, we'll
feel pretty silly going through all this if nothing happens, won't
we?"

"That's better than you disappearing without saying goodbye." Val
stood back from the hug. "I'll take the chance."

"Besides," Mike interposed, "Belief may be a factor in this, so think
positively. It's nearly time," he added.

"Worst case," Val said, "the look on Sheila's face when we both walk
in is going to be _precious_." They matched grins.

Valerie looked one more time to the parking lot entrance for Debbie,
and there she was, careening round the last bend, tires actually
squealing like television. They danced smartly out of the way as
Debbie's car came to a screeching halt and Debbie practically threw
herself out of the door and ran into Valerie's arms. "I didn't miss
you! Thank God!"

"Only just," Valerie said. "We were about to go in."

"Wait! I wanted you to have these," she fumbled in her handbag and
brought out a few photographs. "The developers were messing me about.
I had to get evil on them." She handed them across. Mike and Val
crowded round to look.

There were several of Val and Valerie together at the rollerblading
rink, and in the car park outside. "I never saw you take those," Val
said.

"I know," Debbie replied smugly.

Behind them, there were the pictures Helen had taken of Valerie and
Debbie before they headed out on their date. "Oh wow," Val enthused.

"I didn't have time to make a decent selection, so that's all of them.
That's all the pictures I managed to get."

"Don't we get copies?" Val asked.

"I've got the negatives, I can get more prints done. I just wanted
Valerie to have hers now, before she goes."

Valerie had tears in her eyes. She gathered all three of them into a
hug.

"I don't even know if they'll come through with me if I go," she said.

"I'm sure they will," Debbie insisted. "Maybe they'll help." They
separated after a little while and Valerie stowed the photographs in
her cordura jacket's inside breast pocket. "There, my astronaut,"
Debbie finished, zipping up Valerie's pocket herself, making the
others laugh. Debbie blocked up Valerie's laughter with a _long_ kiss,
leaving Val and Mike looking at each other awkwardly.

"I'm okay to go," Valerie smiled, when they had finished. *Belief may
be a factor,* she told herself. *Come on girl, _believe_ it. Believe
you're going home.*

"We should go," Mike told Debbie.

"Why?"

"I think," he tried to explain, "I think this shouldn't be watched."

Val nodded. "Schroedinger. You'd keep the probabilities collapsed if
you watch."

"Assuming that has _anything_ to do with it," Valerie noted.

"It just might," Mike said, "so it's worth not taking that chance.
Come on Debbie, let's get out of here."

Debbie nodded, and the two of them went to their respective cars. In a
minute they were both gone.

"This is it then," Val said.

"Or not."

"_Believe_, Mike said."

"I'm trying to."

Val took her hand. "Promise me one thing though. If you _don't_ go
home, don't slip away from me and hide and disappear and make us think
that you did, okay?"

"You knew."

"Of course I knew. Now promise me you won't do that. Your _word_ on
it." She was being deadly serious, Valerie saw.

She nodded, eventually. "My word," she agreed. Val smiled.

"Then we're ready."

Hand in hand they walked through the doors.

***