Credit to Anonymous51 for reminding me to note that this is based on stories by Bobbie Bazooms and Vinividiemcee.
Jon woke up, feeling better than he had in a very long time. He stretched, savoring the feel of his body unlimbering from a long, pleasant nap.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mom at the door. "I'm sorry," he said, sheepishly. "I dozed off for some reason. I didn't see you there."
Mom smiled. "It's all right, honey," she said, walking over to Jon's bed. "Can we talk?"
"Of course," Jon said, smiling at the way Mom crossed over to the bed without any pause at all. It's because she thinks I belong in this bed, that it's my bed. Of course it's my bed. It's natural for people to think of me as Sarah; after all, I look like her, don't I? "What can I do for you?"
Mom smiled, a sad smile. "I've been too hard on you," she began. "I've been trying to get you to come back to your old life so very hard -- Daddy and I love you so much, we just want you to get better -- but I've been pushing too much." She paused, and her smile became hopeful. "Maybe we'll just take a break, and let you find your own pace."
For some reason, this filled Jon with panic. It took him a moment to figure out why: Mom was sacrificing her happiness for Jon! He realized he loved this woman -- the closest thing to a mother he had in this reality -- and how he wanted her to be happy.
"Mom?" he asked, his voice unconsciously taking on a pitch Sarah's had when she had been contrite.
"Yes, dear?" She smiled.
"Maybe ... we can keep at it, but slower?" After all, he would find the stone eventually, and when he did, this would all be over; but before that, it couldn't hurt to help this wonderful woman who had taken care of him.
It couldn't hurt to see why girls acted the way they do.
Mom smiled a smile that nearly split her face in half. Without knowing or caring why, Jon reached out and they hugged.
*She needs to want it, the odd little man told her. He was nervously adjusting his hair, but his eyes were level and his voice reassuring.
She didn't want to hear this. "Isn't that why we're paying you?" she asked. Susan felt like this was slipping out of her control.
The ugly little man raised a hand and Susan immediately calmed. Clearly, he knew what he was doing. "She does," he said. "She just doesn't know it yet. You need to get her to make the next move. She needs to be the one who acts on the impulses I've given her. They will become self-reinforcing.
"And when I return, the next steps will be more dramatic."
Unsure of why, Susan nearly cried with joy, reached out, and hugged the fellow. Everything was going to be all right. She just had to get Sarah on a leash, and it would all fall into place.
It was an odd thought, but she was so happy that she ignored it as she practically floated up the stairs.
She thought she saw the little man putting away a metronome, but that couldn't be the case; he hadn't brought one in with him.*
