Muriel sighed as she thought back on that encounter. She'd been lucky to get out of that as well as she had; she'd taken a fairly nasty blow to the head, just shy of a concussion. She'd wondered now and again whether her change was a response to the circumstances, a natural armor in response to an injury...though the patchwork nature meant it wasn't something she'd want to rely on.
Still...it was one more thing she had over Jenny...one more reason she should be the one in harm's way...and yet if Tetra was to be believed, she couldn't just take over for her. Muriel had a difficult time separating her frustration over that from the cat-girl herself, who was mostly okay, if a little vain and demanding (but then, she was a cat.) It wasn't Tetra's fault, she didn't arrange this...but why should this little girl - her little girl - have to be forced into being a...a child soldier!?
Yet...despite her objection to the idea, despite her protective instinct toward Jenny...Muriel couldn't help but wonder if Tetra was right. Maybe this was just part of who Jenny was. Certainly she'd looked proud enough when she'd broken the news to Muriel, and while the policewoman had missed the action, Hawkins had seemed surprised by how well Jenny handled herself...it boggled the mind to think of a nine-year-old girl (especially a sweet child like her) being so equipped to handle this, but then, was it any stranger than some of the other things she'd seen in the past month?
She wanted to tell herself that that wasn't true, and the fact that Jenny seemed to be having trouble with things was proof. She should call it off, save the little white-haired angel from having to face this prospect. But...Muriel could still remember her her first weeks in the academy, her hesitancy to even pick up her gun...and yet here she was, not so very long afterwards, doing her job and doing it well. And if she dragged Jenny away from her own path when all she really needed was practice and time to adjust...what would that do to her?
She went over to the magical girl and picked her up, smiling at Jenny's little gasp of surprise. The girl turned and wrapped her arms around her, and Muriel hugged her back, surprised by the fact that the light-wings behind her were immaterial, yet produced a strange, cool sensation in her skin. "How are you feeling?" she asked. "Seems like you're having some trouble."
Jenny buried herself in Muriel's shoulder. "I...I don't wanna do this!" she said. "Wh-what if I hafta...hafta...?"
Muriel shushed her, gently rubbing her back. "I know," she said. "I don't want you to ever have to do that. But if Tetra's right, Jenny, then what you're doing is going to be very important, for everybody...a lot of people could use your help. I know this is scary for you, but I know you can do it, Jenny. Even Mr. Hawkins said so - you did a good job, even though you were scared."
The little girl didn't respond, pressing tighter into Muriel's shoulder. The policewoman held her, doing her best to soothe the troubled child.
He was alone again. He knew the little girl had to be somewhere nearby, since he was still wearing the handcuff, and the chain that went to her bracelet was still suspended as though it was attached to something, but...wherever she was, she was out of his perception.
It was just as well. He had a dim recollection of helping her again, of showing her how to line up a shot...he hated himself for it. The lock-picking, that was one thing, but to teach a little girl to become a killer...how could he? All he'd wanted was to take the responsibility himself, but he couldn't; somehow, in trying to do it for her, she'd wound up doing it. And he'd enabled it.
He had had to. It was only natural to protect her as he had, but he was at a loss to explain why he felt obligated to help her with whatever it was she was doing. He didn't want to help if it meant making her more like him...yet he couldn't refuse. It was like his very existence was corrupting her, wasn't it?
But what was the solution? Even if he could bring himself to...to remove himself from the equation, it didn't seem within his power to do so. Nor could he leave her; even if he were willing to abandon her in this place, they were chained together...
And even if that weren't true, if he could just leave...what if she needed him? He thought back to that thing that had come to him, come after her...he'd got it to go away with a bullet, but someone or something had it in for this girl. He didn't want to see her become like him, but maybe...if the knowledge he could offer her would help her survive, then maybe he should give it to her.
He looked over to the far horizon, where the sun was still just peeking over the edge. He remembered what she had said, that over in the light...his "bad stuff" would be stripped away. It would be worth it if it meant he wouldn't taint her with his own evil, but...what would be left? His life before this place was a fuzzy memory, but he knew he'd been a bad man for a long, long time...he hadn't been anything even approaching good since he was a little child.
Maybe it would be worth it anyway, but he couldn't get over there; he was chained to her, and she wasn't even here...
He sat there, staring at the horizon and feeling small...why did he feel so small?
Rachel smiled impishly to herself as she and David walked down towards the bus stop. So fascinating...this angel of hers was connected to several others, apparently. She wondered what exactly they all shared, but since the only thing David had actually denied was that their minds were the same, she was pretty sure it was a lot.
And it made so much sense now that she was so shy, even more than what she'd inferred from "David"...Rachel had to admit, she was amused by how easy it was to embarrass this girl. Had she been like this before, she wondered? Still, the devil-girl felt kind of sorry for her...what if she was really like this because she was afraid to share certain feelings with her "sisters?" (And were her sisters all like this? Or were there others who were less...inhibited?)
They stepped onto the bus, Rachel pulling her transit card out of her purse - the only thing she was wearing. She grinned as the other passengers gave her a variety of odd looks. Let 'em stare - she was happy enough in her naked state that she didn't need to worry about what other people thought. They walked towards the back, the devil-girl's tail swishing sinuously behind her.
That wouldn't do at all, she mused, resuming her train of thought. Certainly the angel-girl's purity was one of her interesting aspects, but for her to go through life afraid to experience those of life's pleasures that might bother the others, to forgo her own happiness for fear of upsetting anyone else...that would be tragic. Rachel couldn't allow that to happen to her friend. She'd have to help David overcome this...
Not just yet, though. As amusing as she found it to lean on the boundaries and watch the angel-girl react, she didn't want to push too hard and scare off her new friend. Tease her, sure, but she didn't want to hurt her. That would have to come later...once David had come to trust her, then she could try to offer her help.
"Steven, dear?" her mother called. Steve looked up from where she was sitting on the couch to see the flower-woman, far more plant than she was, coming in from the back yard. She didn't want to talk about this...but she knew that look. There was no getting around this...
"Steven," her mother said, sitting down next to her and putting her arm around her, "this isn't a healthy attitude."
Steve sighed. "M-mom, I...I can't, okay? They don't even know I'm a...a g-girl...what would they say? What could I say? 'Hi, guys, it turns out I've actually been a girl for two weeks but now I'm not hiding it anymore?' They'd..." She trailed off, blinking back a tear.
Her mother nodded. "I know. It's a difficult thing to face, all the more because you've been putting it off this long...but you can't hide from them forever. Sooner or later they're going to come check on you, or you'll run into one of them in the evening, or something. Even now you don't look so different that they can't put two and two together, dear."
The flower-girl gulped, staring bitterly at her feet, propped up on the ottoman, at her girly legs... "But...I just...I can't. I can't go through with this, Mom. If I have to live as this...I can't change that, but I can't face them...they'll..."
"They'll what, Steven?" her mother asked. "They're your friends, aren't they? Maybe they will laugh at you at first, but if they're really your friends, they'll still respect you once they understand it's really you."
"But...what if they...what if they treat me different because I'm...a girl?" Somehow, that was even worse to think about for Steve.
"Steven," the flower-woman said, "you're going to have to accept that you are a girl. That's something that will influence the way people treat you. Not just your friends, anybody. It's the same as when you were a boy, honey - you can't force people to remove that from consideration, because it's often not even a conscious thing. But that doesn't mean they'll necessarily treat you badly because of it, or even expect you to be a girly-girl. If they're reasonable people, your friends will be able to see that you're still you, even if you've changed."
Steve frowned. Was she still "her?" She was crying at the drop of a hat - maybe that was just because of what she'd been through, but what if she actually was changing? And certainly she hadn't been any sort of "plant whisperer" before, yet now...she felt a connection and obligation to them, even if it wasn't as strong as her mother's...
Her mother kissed her cheek. "Steven," she said, "I don't like telling you to do things, but I think you're just going to have to trust me on this one. I want you to go see your friends at the arcade this evening, just like you usually do. You've been through a lot in the past day, honey - you need to take a break and have a good time."
Steve gasped. Have a good time!? How could she, when she'd have to face...she opened her mouth to say something, but her mother shushed her. "Trust me, honey," she said. "You need this."
Jon had made a side-trip to the bathroom before they reached the bookstore, Karyn coming along. The slug-girl was a little weirded out by that - she'd heard of girls going in groups before, but she had no idea whether that was actually a real thing or not.
In any case, she briefly paused in front of the mirror above one of the sinks, still surprised by the face that greeted her. Different, yet still clearly her own...so strange. She straightened her hair out a bit, trying to get it around her antennae in a way that didn't look stupid.
Karyn stifled a chuckle, and Jon shot a glance at her. "What?"
"Nothing."
The slug-girl frowned. "Seriously, what?"
"No, seriously," the cecaelia-girl said. "It's nothing. Go on, we don't have all day. Well, not for this, anyway." Shaking her head, Jon went into one of the stalls and did her business.
She emerged a couple minutes later to see a girl around her age, an anthropomorphic gray cat-girl, standing and staring dazedly into the mirror, shirt crumpled up on the corner of the sink, gently hefting two of her six breasts. They were covered with the white fur that ran from the base of her jaw down the front of her torso and tiered in rows of two, with the topmost being mid-sized, about equal to Jon's, and the lower pairs progressively smaller. They were close enough together that the lower ones supported the upper ones, so that they all looked quite perky.
But as strange as the sight was, it was her expression that caught Jon's attention. She knew that look...she'd worn it herself not so long ago. She slid over to the catgirl and and placed a hand on her shoulder. "How long have you been like this?" she asked.
"A...a week..." she murmured, her dazed expression never wavering. The slug-girl nodded, antennae bobbing. That looked so unusual now that she saw it in the mirror...
They stood there for a while, neither saying anything. Jon couldn't help feeling a little torn up...it was one thing for her to have to deal with this, as a result of her rash wish, but...the way so many other people had gotten dragged into this, it was just...
"Do you..." the catgirl said, "do you...get used to it...?"
Jon sighed. "I...I dunno," she said. "...I'm not traumatized by it or anything, but...I don't know that I'm used to it. I can get through the day without it bothering me too much, I guess."
The catgirl sighed. "How long have you...?"
"Since the sun changed. About five weeks now..." Had it really only been five weeks? So much had changed in that short time...and that was five weeks out of, what, twenty-five? Twenty-six?
