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               Tuck Season, Wabbit Season, Tuck Season!
                            Part 4
                              -*-
      Copyright 1999, 2004 by either Joel Lawrence or Ellen Hayes


Any resemblance between the writings in this work, and any actual
persons or places, living or dead, are purely coincidental, except when
used for satirical purposes.

This work contains adult situations, adult language, adult concepts, and
possibly sex.  If you are legally not allowed to read materials
containing such things, then you will be breaking the law by reading
this.  I am not responsible.
Continuing to read this document, or storing it or reproducing it
in any format means that you explicitly affirm that you are legally
allowed to possess and read such materials in your city, county/parish,
state, and country.

All rights reserved.  See the bottom for distribution rights.

***

     "You will go up to your room, and stay in there until I tell you
otherwise, do you understand?" Jane finished.
     "Yes ma'am," the boy stated.
     "Now!"
     He turned neatly on his heels and walked out.
     Jane fumed for quite a while before bursting out, "Oh!  I cannot
BELIEVE he would do something like that!  Charlene?!"
     "Yes ma'am?" she squeaked.
     "What really happened?"
     "Uh!" Charlene gasped.

     Tucker had just finished cleaning himself up, after vomiting up
breakfast from the stress, when Miss Marie came into his room bearing a
tray, with food on it.
     "Uh, no thank you," he said, wishing he didn't sound so shaky.
"I'm, uh, not hungry right now."
     "You didn't eat very much breakfast," she argued gently.
     "I'm fine, please," Tucker said, starting to sweat again.  "Do, uh,
do you know what she's going to do to me?" he asked.
     "I don't know," the woman said, "but it seems as though Charlene
had something to do with what happened as well.  Jane is thinking about
what to do right now."
     *Oh, shit.*
     "Please, you should eat something," she tried again.
     "Uh, no-"
     "I'll just leave the tray here, then," she said, and put it on the
vanity, and left, locking the door behind her.
     Immediately, Tucker went to the window and made sure that he had a
clear LZ he could hit if he had to bail out through the window.  *Well,
shit,* he thought as he went and sat back down on the bed, away from the
food and the horrible smells.  *What do I do now?  Run?  Stay?  Pack up
my stuff in case I do have to run?*  The choices swirled around him, too
many, and before he quite realized it he was curled up in a ball in
front of the armoire and banging his head rhythmically against it, and
moaning.
     He'd have stopped himself, but it made him feel better.

     "He's only been here two days," Jane sighed to Marie as they
cleaned up lunch together, Charlene having also been banished to her
room.  "Two days!  Why does it feel like a week or more?"
     "I think this one may be one of the harder ones," Marie admitted.
"He told me, as he was changing before he went out for his naming, that
he-"
     "Oh, that reminds me," Jane accidentally interrupted, "I never did
find out what Charlene came up with for a name."
     "We should ask before we see him again," Marie said, and Jane
nodded.  "Anyway, as I was pulling out shoes, he said he did not want
heels because of the problem with stepping in dirt or grass.  He asked
for flats or sandals instead."
     "He knew enough to ask for flats?" Jane confirmed, surprised.
     "He said he didn't want to get in trouble for ruining the shoes or
getting them dirty," Marie added.
     "Hmmm.  Perhaps he's paid more attention to his mother than we
thought," Jane theorized.
     "He did claim he'd slept with all those women, you said, remember?"
Marie grinned.
     "He actually said 'been with'...  But, I don't believe he was using
that as a euphemism for sex."  Jane frowned.  "How has he been with the
young clothes, earlier today?"
     "Oh, he hated them," Marie nodded slowly and deliberately in
recollection.  "He would put them on, and not argue, but his face every
time I pulled something out of the closet...  He did complain a couple
of times, though, I take it back.  Mostly of the 'Oh, NO!  Surely not
THAT!' sort."  They both chuckled.  "But, when I insisted, he'd go put
them on..."
     "So," Jane summarized, "obedient enough when ordered, but accident
prone, and greatly disliking being touched by surprise.  And he knows
more about feminine arts than we thought at first, correct?"
     "Yes...  He's also a quick study.  And he seems quite afraid of us,
and you in particular," Marie added.  "Slightly more than usual, even."
     "Well, if we can just keep him from killing himself in an accident,
keep him and Charlene from killing each other, and keep him busy with
new things..."
     "And he needs to eat more," Marie inserted.  "He didn't want lunch
today, either."
     "I think he has a very small stomach," Jane surmised.
     "Or he's trying to lose weight," Marie guessed.  "He does seem just
slightly pudgy, and he has some breast enlargement...  What is that
called?"
     "Gynecomastia," Jane stated.  "Not uncommon in pubescent boys; it
has something to do with the hormone mixtures.  Or something like that,
I forget exactly what.  Still, he's not the first we've had with that
'problem', and it makes some things easier."
     "But maybe he's trying to lose weight in the hopes that they will
disappear," Marie explained.
     "Ah, I see," Jane nodded as she got it.  "That could well be it."

     The smell of the food had finally gotten to Tucker, so he'd toweled
the mirrors and ripped the sandwich into small pieces and flushed it
down the toilet, along with the soup and milk.  He did eat the apple,
but he had spent several minutes examining it for pinholes in the skin,
and then he'd washed it twice with soap and a washcloth to remove
possible surface contaminants.  "It's like living in a rad zone," Tucker
had sighed to himself in the bathroom mirror.  That thought led to a
shower and a change of clothing, into the first dress he could stand in
the closet, plus the required lacy under-bullshit and makeup.
     *At least I look like I'm twelve, in this,* Tucker decided as he
examined himself in the mirror, having uncovered them both after he got
dressed.  *And a respectable twelve, not a rentable twelve, either.
Good enough...  So, what do I do now?*  There wasn't anything to read in
the room, and Jane had made off with all his books in his bags.  He
could do something on his laptop, but it'd be caught on camera, and
someone could walk in at any moment; then it would be confiscated at the
very least. Same with anything else 'productive' he could think of.
     *Meditate,* Mike's voice said to him, and he nodded in agreement.

     "HE said," Charlie emphasized, "'Valerie' to Tom and, and, the
other one."  That hadn't been very graceful at all, he realized, but at
least he hadn't said 'umm'.
     "HE used that name?" Jane questioned, and Charlie felt a bit of
relief as he realized she might have dropped his hesitation.  She
couldn't have missed it - she never missed anything - but sometimes she
had other things on her mind, or got distracted.  Like now.

     When Marie walked into Eugene's room, he was sitting on the floor,
legs folded underneath him and hands in his lap in a curiously Oriental
pose, and wearing a different dress than the one he'd been given for his
walk.  As the door opened, his head lifted up and he looked at her,
expressionless.
     "Miss Thompson wishes to see you downstairs in the parlor," Marie
announced.
     Without a word, he picked up his skirt in both hands and rose
suddenly to his feet, rocking backwards a bit as he stood up.  "Very
well," he announced calmly.  "Thank you."
     Marie moved into the room to let him out, and he walked slowly past
her without a word, moving with regal grace.

     It felt as if all the good of the meditation he'd done had
evaporated, but Tucker knew that at least he'd reset the count to some
degree.  He had managed to complete the Grand Tour before Marie came in,
anyway, and he did feel better.
     Scared of what the bitch was going to do to him, of course, but
that was only reasonable, and at least he wasn't panicking like he would
have earlier.
     *They left me alone too long,* Tucker realized with a smile as he
knocked at the door to Jane's parlor, and wiped his sweaty hands on his
skirt.

     "Helugh?" Sandy gargled into the phone, having been awakened from
a nap she desperately needed today.
     "It's Caro, Sandy.  Did you see the doctor yet?" Carolyn asked.
     "Doh!  She's full undil four!  I DID call," Sandy sniffed, feeling
woefully abused, "abd made ahd appoidbedt, but-"
     "God, Sandy, you're making ME sick talking like-"
     "Well FUCK you!" Sandy shouted, and slammed the phone down.  *At
least that came out clearly,* she sighed as she reached for the tissues.

     Carolyn had had to blow her nose a few times before she left the
office, but at least, she thought, she wouldn't have to put up with
Sandy face-to-face for a few days.  *That woman is an absolute monster
when she's sick,* Carolyn sighed.

     Tucker sighed as he reached for the Cabbage Patch doll.  *At least
she didn't make ME roll around in the manure, as retribution.  Though I
think I don't walk around there ANY time Charlene is with me.*

     Charlie had been forced to admit, several months ago, that actually
doing his 'school' work at Jane's went much easier and calmer if he just
sat down and did it.  That didn't make doing it any easier, but it was
slowly getting to be more of a habit, or less of a hurdle.  Doing
anything in little girl frillies seemed to be harder than usual, but as
Valerie had predicted, he'd said something to Jane and the rest of
Jane's temper had fallen on him.  So now he was sitting here, revising
his book report YET again, in clothes that made him crazy just from the
noise he made breathing while wearing them.

     Tucker had at least ten seconds to spare, so when he saw movement
in the library, he glanced in.  Charlene was at a table, looking like
she was writing a paper or something.  *Man,* Tucker sighed to himself
as he continued to the parlor.  *Don't know which is worse, the little
girl inspection drill, or getting stuck in summer school.*
     Math would be cool, but of course that was the thing he was least
likely to be in summer school for...

     Book report done, and submitted for another horrible grading
session later on, Charlie went into the kitchen to prepare some things
for tea today, and to help with the evening meal.
     *Eugene-  Valerie, doofus,* he chided himself.  *VALERIE,* he
repeated in his head, *sure looks worn out.  Wonder if I looked like
that the first day with the manners stuff?*  Probably, he admitted, he
had; it was hard work.  Made worse, of course, for Valerie, because she
was wearing clothes that Jane had never made HIM wear.
     On the other hand, the little asshole deserved it.

     "Manners?"
     "Manners, and deportment, and moving with grace, young lady," Jane
replied.  "You are sadly deficient in those areas as well."
     *I'd ask how long, but it's going to be something along the lines
of 'However long it takes' or 'Until I have decided blah blah'," Tucker
realized.  "Yes, ma'am," he sighed.

     "Well, looks like a summer cold."
     "I dew thad!  Do subthig for it!"

     "Uhhhhhhhhh!" Tucker groaned when he opened the door to his room
and found Marie in it, holding a pair of shoes with a VERY narrow heel.
     *At least,* he reflected several minutes later, *I get to wear
something a teeny bit older looking than fuck-me-Daddy five-year-old
dresses and matching underwear.  That stuff plus the heels would be too
fucking scary.  Too scary, because of the 'fucking' implications,* he
nodded to himself.

     "Time to change," Charlie sighed to himself.  *Don't know why the
clothes suitable for afternoon aren't nice enough for tea, but I don't
think any of this is supposed to make SENSE.  'Cause it sure DON'T.*

     *Goddamnit,* Tucker cursed as he trotted carefully down the stairs,
*doesn't that woman EVER give up?*  He'd had to spend several minutes
getting used to the balance on the shoes, and that had - unknowingly -
taken away from the time he needed to get ready for another inspection.
And he still wasn't good enough in the stupid shoes to run, but he
NEEDED to hurry, so he was going as fast as he could, and-
     At that moment, someone rang the doorbell.
     Tucker turned sideways to glance at the door, and immediately
realized he'd made a mistake, because the damned spike heels Marie had
made him wear had absolutely no traction at all, especially on hardwood
floors.
     He skipped and hopped in desperation, trying to decelerate, but it
was too late and he had too large a vector going in just the wrong
direction to be able to miss the wall.
     He expected the flare of pain and the resounding 'THUD' when he
body-checked into the wall - it sounded like it shook the house - but as
he clung to it for support, the sound of crashing glass scared the hell
out of him, which in combination with the fresh assault on his swollen
chest caused him to let go, which caused him to fall gracelessly on his
coccyx.  Again.  Tucker arched and twisted across the floor, waiting for
the world to un-whiteout and for his body to stop bouncing before he
started screaming.
     The doorbell rang again.
     "Roight!" he panted to himself, and scrambled upright by the
expedient of rolling over, planting his hands on the floor, and walking
up them until he was almost upright.  He ran into the other wall before
he could completely get it, but he barely noticed at this point.  "Door,
get the door, get the door," he unconsciously chanted to himself as he
staggered in the general direction of the light.
     A few seconds later, he was blinking at a man in a suit and tie.
*Don't scream,* he told himself.  "Hi," he breathed, "can I help you?"
     "Ah, yes," said the man, smiling, "I'm here to see Jane Thompson,
is she in?"
     "Wh- oh, yes, I think she is sir, if you'd like to come in?"
Tucker managed to remember which way to move the door to make it open,
and grabbed on to it gracelessly as the hallway did a slow roll and the
man walked in, ignoring the shifting gravitational fields.
     "And you are?" the man asked, smiling directly at him.
     *'M in a dress, must be Valerie today.*  "Valerie," he answered,
and smiled like the girls had taught him.
     The man smiled and shook his hand gently.  "I'm Bob," he said, and
Tucker nodded, still smiling.
     "Hi, Bob," Tucker replied, and woozed on the door until he noticed
the man was completely inside, and managed to shut the door without
falling a third time.
     "Jane!" the man called as Tucker was staring at the door locks
wondering which, if any, he should latch.  "Good to see you again!"
     *Oh, shit,* he thought, and turned around.  Jane had an expression
on her face he was all too familiar with already.  "Can you explain this
painting?" she asked, pointing directly at Tucker.
     "Uh, you mean you didn't feel the earthquake?" he tried,
straightening up at the same time.  Unfortunately, the combination of
spike heels plus the multiple impacts he'd sustained left him
momentarily unable to stand upright without support.

     Jane watched helplessly as the boy staggered, then flailed wildly
as he spun around, pumps skittering, and sat straight down on his rear
end.  "Aaaugh!" he shrieked and immediately spasmed over on his side,
back arched, and clutching the bottom of his spine.  "Ohhhssshhhh..." he
groaned, writhing in apparent agony.  Jane immediately surmised that
Eugene had sat down too hard on his coccyx.  Again.
     As Bob ran to help the boy, he looked up and moaned, "I am not
having a good day..."

     Tucker didn't know whether to scream or pass out as 'Bob' put his
arms underneath and hoisted him up like Travis had done.  He settled for
grabbing on to the guy's neck and promising himself that he would rip
his throat out if the guy dropped him.
     He was almost expecting it when the guy tried to scrape his ankles
off using the door frame.  Not that it hurt any less.

     Jane watched as Bob lowered the exquisitely pretty boy to the seat
of the couch.  She sighed mentally, *It's only been two days...*
     Bob, in an attempt to lighten Eugene's mood, said in a teasing
tone, "Well, I guess you're not used to wearing heels yet, huh?"
     Eugene's head snapped up, rage blazing in his eyes, and snapped
back, "Maybe you ought to try it sometime!"
     "Valerie!" Jane snapped.

     Tucker almost ripped his own throat out, then changed his mind and
started to get up so he could rip out Jane's throat instead, then
changed his mind again and just gritted his teeth until the urge passed.
"Excuse me, Bob," he finally managed to force out.  "That was immensely
rude, and I'm, I mean, I apologize."
     *Kill him too,* snickered the little demon inside his head, the
evil one.
     "You may go to your room and wait there until called," Jane
ordered, so Tucker got up, bowed to them both, and left the parlor.

     Charlie had heard the thuds - they'd rattled the house - and was
looking around, wondering what the hell was going on, when he saw Eugene
staggering along, holding his shoes in one hand and running the other
hand along the wall.  "What's going on?" he asked.
     Eugene glared up at him, and Charlie could see the reddened eyes
that spoke of too much eye makeup practice in one day.  Or of crying.
Charlie had done both here.  Eugene replied, "Life just sucks sometimes,
ya know?  Mine is being particularly sucky today, and I am just fucking
tired of it."
     "You'd better not let Jane hear you talk like that," Charlie
warned.  Jane was death on bad language, as he'd found out already.

     Tucker stared up at the bimbo on the stairs, seeing entirely too
close a resemblance to his sister at that particular moment.  He fought
the urge to chunk one of the shoes at her, instead just lowering his
head and concentrating on climbing the stairs.

     Marie paused in her trip to the parlor.  There was a picture on the
floor, and glass shattered outward from it like an impact crater.
     She didn't know how it happened, but she had a feeling Eugene was
in the middle of it.  Somehow.

     Tucker staggered to the bed and slowly, gently, lowered himself
onto it, gasping as one move or another pulled on some damaged part of
his body.  There were a lot of damaged parts today.
     When he had finally achieved horizontality, he pulled the comforter
over himself and was asleep in less than thirty seconds.

     "I WOULD have called, except the phones have been out for several
days, and the," Jane took a mental breath, "idiots at the phone company
blithely assume that since THEY are not having a problem, that it must
be MY problem," Jane fumed.  "EVERY time I call, they tell me, 'Have you
tried it with a different phone?'  THAT was the FIRST thing I did, and
it's STILL not working!"
     "Jane," Bob said apologetically, "I am REALLY sorry.  If I knew you
were having a new student in this week, I wouldn't have come."
     Jane sighed, slowly, letting some of her anger out with the breath,
and nodded agreement.  "I know you wouldn't have, and I blame myself for
not having called you at the train station, which is the last time any
of us were out of the house, or could be out of the house.  You know how
critical the first few days are, and how we have to watch the new
ones..."
     "I do vaguely recall something like that," Bob smiled.

     Tucker was glad his parents had found a place for him where the
cops wouldn't be able to find him, but he wished they had checked it out
a little more thoroughly.  An alien crashed out of the wall next to him,
again, and he shot it to pieces, but another one grabbed him from behind
and shook him loose from the rifle, and then he was being carried into
the queen's chamber, but instead of immediately sticking a facehugger on
him, they were just beating him and beating him, the thuds of their
blows sounding like-
     Like someone knocking.  "Wha?!" he gasped in a panic, sitting bolt
upright and regretting it as his body protested.
     "Eugene?" called Marie as she came in.  "You need to change for the
evening."
     "Why, is it dark?" he asked, rolling over and looking out the
window.  It wasn't dark.

     Charlie had been directed to serve tea for Jane and her guest,
whoever he was.  He knew enough, though, to be worried.  Every time Jane
had guests, something bad happened to him.  Something to further
humiliate him or embarrass him, something to take him just another hair
closer to exposure and utter ruination.
     So he was not happy.

     "You need to sit down to do your m-"
     "No I am NOT sitting down," Tucker insisted to Marie.  "My b- rear
end still hurts, and the last thing I want to do is put all my weight on
it right now.  I'll stand, thanks."
     Marie replied, "I should look at-"
     "No.  I'll live; it's just bruised," Tucker admitted.  Bruised and
general tired; the meditating had done a lot for his mind but nothing at
all for the rest of him, and the tiny nap he'd had hadn't been long
enough.  "I can do the makeup standing up."  *If I can keep from
twitching,* he thought.

     A knock at the door told Jane that Marie had finished changing
Valerie.  She debated going out for a private moment with the
effeminized boy, to warn him to be on his best girl-like behavior, but
decided that it would be unnecessary.  While immensely rude and casual
to Robert earlier, she HAD kept her mouth shut as to her actual gender
or identity.  So, she called, "Come in."
     "Good evening, Bob, Miz Thompson," Valerie said as she gingerly
entered the room and shut the doors behind her.  Marie had dressed the
girl in a relatively light linen dress that, compared to what Valerie
had been wearing earlier, had a minimum of frou-frou and frills on it.
The simplicity suited her, Jane noticed.  And she was wearing a matching
pair of flats, which seemed a prudent safety measure to Jane, and Marie
as well, apparently; the child was still moving slowly and carefully.
     "How are you doing?" Bob asked her.
     She stopped, and looked at Bob, her eyes flashing, but she didn't
say anything right away.  When she did reply, just before Jane was going
to prompt her, she said carefully, "I am in a moderate amount of pain
and it hurts to move.  Miz Thompson, I'd prefer to sit on the floor, if
I could; that or stand.  I can't sit on a chair, right now."
     "Very well, you may stand," Jane allowed.

     Tucker listened to the conversation mainly because he had no
choice, as they talked about the weather and people he didn't know (and
would rather not know) and things he had no idea about and so on...
     He didn't realize he'd either locked his knees or succumbed to
hypoglycemia until he was already falling.  "Aii!"  *That hurt...*
     He concentrated on breathing again, and when he had that going
well, he opened his eyes to find the two adults reaching for him.  "Ah!"
he yelped as he twisted away from them.
     "I asked if you were alright," Jane snapped.
     "I, uh, I'll be fine in a moment, ma'am," Tucker blathered.  "If I
could just stay here for a minute or two?"
     "Are you sure-" Jane started as she knelt down.
     Tucker wriggled and got away from her before she could touch him.
"I'm fine I'm fine!" he babbled desperately.

     Jane had decided to leave the boy-girl alone for the moment, since
he seemed to be more shaken than hurt, and also far more terrified of
her than he was of anything else.  "Very well, then," she stated as she
stood up, "but-"
     Bob interrupted, "I don't know, Jane, that was a pretty nasty fall.
Perhaps you could call that nurse friend of yours?"
     "No," Jane sighed, "because the-
     "-phones aren't working," they said at the same time, Bob nodding
ruefully.
     "Have you-" Bob started to say before the phone rang.
     And rang again.
     It failed to burst into flames under the heat of Jane's glare, but
it wasn't for want of will.

     *They seem to be working fine now,* Tucker thought as he gingerly
tried to find the position that left him in as little pain as possible.
There didn't seem to be one.
     "Are you sure you're alright?" 'Bob' asked.
     Tucker looked up at the man, and there didn't seem to be anything
in his expression besides concern.  "I...  I may have locked my knees
while I was standing," Tucker admitted quietly, as Jane talked on the
phone.  "I'll be fine, really," he smiled.  That hurt too.  "I just want
to lie here for a while and collect my wits."
     "Well, alright then," he said as he went back to his own seat.

     Charlie opened the door to find Jane on the phone and Bob sitting
in front of the tea table.  Jane made eye contact and motioned with her
free hand towards the table.  Charlie sighed, and went to go put the tea
tray down.

     Jane looked up again as she suddenly wondered, *Where's Valer-*

     Tucker was enjoying what felt like the first quiet un-tense moment
he'd had all fucking DAY, when someone snuck up behind him and kicked
him HARD in the back of his leg and then his kidney and tried to drop a
serving tray on top of him.  "Yjjj gyjyt!" Tucker spasmed as he flipped
around and caught a forearm across the tits, and then he was in the mood
for some blood.

     "She said, 'Call me back in twenty,'" Art repeated, "very quickly,
and then hung up."
     "Why?" Darryl asked.
     "I'm not sure... but it sounded like her students had gotten into a
fight."
     "In the PARLOR?" Darryl asked skeptically.  "In FRONT of her?"
     Art shrugged helplessly.

     It had taken both of them to separate the two teens, and even now,
Valerie was straining against Jane's restraint and snarling wordlessly
at Charlene.  Her aversion to being touched didn't seem operative at the
moment, or at least she wasn't trying to attack Jane as well, but Jane
didn't dare let go.  "Bob, take Charlene to her room.  VALERIE!" she
yelled as she shook the girl.  "YOU will CALM DOWN this INSTANT!"
     Bob let the older girl down to her feet and escorted her forcefully
out of the parlor.  As Jane had suspected, once her target was out of
sight, Valerie calmed down somewhat.
     "Valerie-"
     "She KICKED me!" the girl shrieked in outrage as Marie came dashing
in, finally.  *A bit late,* Jane sighed mentally.

     He'd been yelled at and threatened with jail and other dire things,
but the good part in Tucker's appraisal was that he'd been banished
again to his room until supper was served.  That suited him just fine;
he wanted nothing more than to lie somewhere and moan, and he had a
feeling that this was another of those hings that Jane would object to
as being unfeminine.  But he was going to do it anyway.

     "Not going to torture her with tea?" Bob chuckled as he came back
into the parlor.
     "I want that one out of my sight for a while," Jane said as she
deliberately unclenched her teeth.
     "Problems?"
     As she turned around from the bar to snap an answer at him, the
flinch he displayed calmed her down, or at least reminded her to take
control of herself again.

     "But how was I supposed to know she was there?" Charlie complained
to Marie, who was the closest thing to a sympathetic ear in the whole
place since Joan had left.  "I mean, on the FLOOR?  Since when does Jane
allow ANYone to lie on the floor like that?!"
     "I admit it was unusual," Marie admitted.  "Here, come chop these
tomatoes."
     "I'd like to chop off her head," Charlie muttered under his breath.
     "Yes, I know, but it would make such a mess, and that's too lovely
an outfit to ruin with all that blood," Marie said, with such innocent
sincerity that Charlie stopped dead still and couldn't do anything
except stare at her in stunned bemusement until she chuckled.

     Meditating, Tucker guessed, was the only thing that could possibly
keep him from sleep, and the nightmares.  Or at least, that's what he
hoped.

     Jane counted on her fingers.  "Coffee burn, falling down the
stairs...  falling today, having Charlene fall over her and that fight,
and she got into a fight with Charlene today at the stables..."
     Bob asked, "How long has she been here?"
     "Two days," Jane sighed.  "or two and a half; she got here Sunday
about eleven."
     "And she's THAT good already?"
     "She definitely has the face for it," Jane nodded.  "It's her mind
I'm concerned about at this point."
     "Seems, well..."
     "She reacts quite badly if touched, also," Jane added.
     "If she came to you, looking like that-  You haven't taken her to
Marisha yet, have you?" Bob confirmed.  When Jane shook her head, he
went on, "So she came to you looking that feminine already?  I'd imagine
the kid is far too used to being beaten in school; that's why she's so
jumpy.  How has she been otherwise?"
     "Not too defiant," Jane admitted.  "The fights she's gotten into
with Charlene have...  Well, they've at least been mutual.  Valerie does
seem to have a talent for enraging Charlene, and Charlene is still not
in full control of her temper, at least when goaded.  She, Charlene, has
been docile enough at Marisha and other places, but Sandy and Caro are
enough to scare the curls out of her hair, whereas I don't think she's
intimidated by Valerie."
     "Valerie isn't very intimidating," Bob agreed with a smile.  "She
looks more like a helpless waif."
     "Yes, I-"  The phone rang, startling her again.
     "Go on, it's probably that call you hung up on earlier," Bob smiled
ruefully.
     "I hope so...  Thompson residence, Jane speaking?"
     "Janie-Jane!"
     "Hello, Art," she smiled into the receiver.  "I'm sorry about
earlier..."

     Bob smiled to himself, because even though Jane was physically in
the same room, mentally she had obviously gone to be with her husband.
*Well, there's always some paperwork,* he sighed to himself, and opened
his briefcase.

     "Valerie," Marie announced as she opened the door.  She wasn't too
surprised to find the boy-girl on the floor, resting on her stomach.
"It is time to get dressed for dinner."
     She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  "And I guess you're
here to pick something out?"  Marie nodded.  "Okay..."
     She slowly got to her feet, showing none of the grace she had
displayed around lunchtime.  *Poor thing,* Marie thought.  *She seems to
be in a lot of pain.*  "Would you like some Tylenol?" Marie asked.
     "Yes please," the girl nodded with a grateful look.

     Tucker examined the pills for quite some time before deciding that
they probably weren't altered, and swallowed them and drank some water.
*Hope I'm right,* he thought as he went back into the bedroom, and his
stomach lurched.  *No, shut up, stop it,* he thought at his rebellious
internal organs.  *Just chill, asshole.  Well, that's a different
piece,* Tucker smiled to himself.  *But still, just relax.*

     "Caro!"
     "Hi Jane, what's up?"
     "When can I bring the newest in for the usual?"
     "What, so soon?" Carolyn joked.
     "Yes, actually," Jane admitted.
     "Another tough nut to crack?"
     "This one is definitely a nut," Jane agreed.
     "Well, unfortunately," Carolyn explained, "Sandy is out sick, with
what sounds like a nasty summer cold.  I don't think she'll be in until
Friday at the earliest."
     "Oh, dear," Jane sighed.  "Has she been to the doctor?"
     Caro chuckled, "I threatened her with Marie if she didn't go.  She
went today, and called me from the doctor's office."

     Charlie was just starting to worry about whether he could finish
dinner himself AND change into something Jane wouldn't complain about
for dinner, when Marie reappeared in the kitchen.  "Oh, great," Charlie
sighed in relief.  "I-"
     "Need to go upstairs and change for dinner," Marie nodded as she
inspected the food.  "Very good, and hurry gracefully."

     As Tucker finished drawing the 'tattoo' on his arm with makeup
pencils - nice of them to leave him a full palette, he'd thought - the
dreams he'd had kept coming back to him.   It wasn't the metaphors that
bothered him; they made perfect sense, and it was the last damn time
he'd let Mike talk him into watching anything like a horror movie before
going on a trip again, that was for certain.  Much less all three of
them.
     He was just tired of fighting the damn things.

     *Does this look good enough?* Charlie asked himself as he looked in
the mirror.  *God, I hope so...*  Suntan colored hose, corselette,
champagne half-slip with a slit in the back, light blue dress with
lavender accents and walking slit aligned with the slip's, lavender
heels...  *Jewelry,* he decided.  *This stuff is such a pain in the
ass...*

     Tucker came downstairs just behind Charlene.  He had to admit, she
had a trim ass, as he watched it sway back and forth.  Too bad for her
that he preferred a little more flesh on his women.
     Longing for Debbie bit him so deeply that he had to stop on the
stairs and hug himself.  *This would be so much easier,* he thought
sadly, *if she was here, with me.*

     Bob had gone to wash up, giving Jane the opportunity to catch
Eugene, or 'Valerie' as he had named himself, before he went into the
dining room.  "Eugene?" she called softly.
     He stopped and turned around stiffly.  "Yes ma'am?"
     "The gentleman you met earlier will be staying for dinner.  I
expect you to be perfectly mannered at dinner, do you understand?"
     He nodded.  "Yes ma'am."
     "Well," she said, not letting any of the skepticism she felt color
her voice, "come in and wait to be seated."
     "Yes ma'am," he replied, and followed her into the dining room.
     It wasn't until Jane had seated herself and Bob was pushing her
chair towards the table that she noticed that a tattoo of what looked
like a ball with arms and a most defiant expression had appeared on
Eugene's arm since this afternoon, nestled amongst the bruises.  "What
is THAT?" she demanded, pointing.
     Eugene, or Valerie as she would have to begin thinking of him,
looked up and assumed an innocent expression.  "What's what, Miz
Thompson?"
     "That... drawing on your arm," she said slowly through gritted
teeth.
     "Oh, this?  It's the laughing planet, from 'The Hitchhiker's Guide
To The Galaxy'.  I'm surprised you didn't recognize it."  His blue eyes
stared at her without a hint of duplicity visible.
     Jane took a deep breath, held it, then slowly let it out through
her nose.  "You may return upstairs and remove it."  When he started to
say something, she snarled, "NOW."
     Without a further word, he removed his napkin from his lap, stood
up, and left.
     Her effort to cool her temper was not helped in the least by the
smirk she could detect beneath Bob's casually neutral expression.

     "Heheheheheheheh," Tucker chortled to himself all the way up the
stairs and into his room.  *Probably a bad idea to piss her off at
dinner, but-*  He hissed as he mistakenly tried to sit down.
     Still, it was worth it.

     Jane had toyed with the idea of denying Valerie supper, but the
realization that she had missed tea, and not eaten much before then,
stayed her hand.  Besides, it would be best for her training if she was
present for the conversation.  Bob was a master of the embarrassing
compliment.

     *At least he's not as bad as Travis,* Tucker smiled in relief.
     "You look incredibly beautiful when you do that," Bob said to him.
     "Thank you, Bob," Tucker smiled a bit wider, though it probably
lost some reality points when he did.  He knew how he was supposed to
respond, anyway; the Pack had taught him that.  It didn't have to be
real, at least, though it was better if it was.  If you wanted to catch
the guy, which Tucker emphatically did not.

     Charlie only noticed he was staring when his newly-acquired sixth
sense warned him that Jane was glaring at him.

     Tucker stared in dismay at Marie as she came out of the kitchen
bearing two main-course plates, with the food already arranged on them.
And put one down precisely in front of him.
     *Motherfffffucker,* he sighed mentally.  *Well, it was a good salad
at least, and I think I got some carbs... the dressing'll do for some
fats.  And I don't need any protein, at least not in the short term.  I
gotta steal me some meat tonight... make it look... shit, I hope I can
find something that they won't notice is miss-*
     "Valerie?  You may begin eating," Jane ordered.
     "Thank you, Miz Thompson," Tucker sighed, "but I'm not hungry."
     "Marie made it especially for you," she schmoozed at him.
     He looked down and noted dully that it was a repeat of Sunday's
meal.  *Yeah, I was stupid enough to eat that one...  Did you think I'd
be stupid enough to eat it again?*  "THANK you, but I am no longer
hungry," he said, trying to restrain his temper.  He hated it when
people thought he was stupid.
     Jane warned, "Don't take that tone with me, young lady-" before
Tucker had had enough of this particular game.
     "Then I won't," he snapped as he stood.  "Bob, Charlene, good
evening," he said, adding a slight bow, before he turned on one foot and
started to exit.
     Jane grabbed him by the arm before he could get out of the dining
room, and yanked him around so fast it literally made his head spin.
She yelled something at him as he staggered to catch his balance, and
the entire thing triggered a memory...
     *I think I owe Susan a bottle of champagne,* he decided as Jane
angrily demanded, "Well?!"

     Valerie glared at Jane as she caught her breath, then actually put
her head back as she screamed at the top of her lungs, "I AM HAVING MY
_PERIOD_!"
     Jane's mouth dropped open.
     "Okay?!" she shrieked again.  "You wanna put it on a billboard or
something?  Run an ad in the paper?!"  She sucked in a ragged breath,
then screamed, "Just leave me ALONE!" and spun and ran for the stairs.
     It was well after her bedroom door slammed shut - quite audible
from downstairs; it sounded almost like an explosion - before anyone
could say anything.  "Merde," Marie commented.

     *I don't know how cows stand it,* Tucker thought, depressed, as he
regurgitated salad.  *I couldn't even re-swallow this stuff ONCE.*  The
thought, not surprisingly, made him retch again.

     Having inquired of Marie and Bob, both of whom could add nothing at
all to Jane's complete inability to explain what had just happened, she
turned to Charlene.  "Charlene-"
     "I'm not having one!" she protested.

     *I thought it couldn't get any worse,* Charlie wondered in sickened
awe as his face got hot...
     Bob was the first to lose it, with just one chuckle, and then Marie
and Jane began laughing at the same time, and all Charlie could do was
stand there in shock.

     "I HATE YOU!" Charlene screamed, and then she was running out of
the dining room herself.
     "Oh no, oh no," Jane moaned, but she could NOT stop laughing, even
when she heard Charlene's door slam shut, just as Valerie's had.  That
might even have made it worse, slightly; it reminded her too much of
every teenage girl she'd ever known, read about or heard of...

     Tucker couldn't quite stand the suspense any more, so when he'd
finished cleaning himself up, he sneaked over to his door and opened it.
     Peals of laughter coming from downstairs contrasted oddly with the
angry weeping Charlene seemed to be doing.
     "Those fuckers," Tucker muttered, then crept across the hall to see
what they'd done to Charlene.

     Charlie heard the door open, which choked off his tears as
effectively as a gag.  He rolled over on his side, and saw Valerie
holding a finger to her mouth as she carefully shut the door with her
back.
     "They laughing at you or me?" she asked quietly, and the tears
broke out again.

     *Jeez I hate this,* Tucker sighed as Charlene started crying again,
staring at him like one of the babies he'd sat.  *Can't she express her
frustration some other way, like beating them all to death with a chair
or something?*  "Jeez," Tucker said as he came over to the bed, and sat
down close to her.  "I'm sorry, I didn't think they'd laugh at YOU..."
     As she hit him, he realized he'd said something wrong.  "Hey, hey!"
he protested.  "I'M not laughing at you!"  She stopped, took a deep
breath, then started wailing again.
     *That wasn't so good either,* Tucker decided a few moments later.
*Still, I'd rather have her crying than hitting me.  I think.*  "Look,
I'm really sorry," he tried, and when that didn't seem to make things
worse, he tried putting an arm around her.
     Naturally, she grabbed onto him and started to sob on his blouse.
     Tucker sighed to himself, twisted and wriggled until he was in a
comfortable position, then paid attention to consoling her.

     "Well, I'll be..." Jane muttered to herself.
     "That does look..." Bob started.  "How long has Valerie been here?"
     "Two and a half days, like I told you," Jane replied, still staring
at the monitor, which showed a small view of Charlene's room, and most
importantly Valerie holding Charlene as the latter cried.  Marie had
heard her and not gone in, but a distinct lack of Valerie had prompted
all three of them into Jane's study for a quick remote check of the
girls' bedrooms.

     Tucker would have screamed except he didn't have the breath for it,
and before he got some air, he'd moved Charlene's arm down and away from
one of his immensely-sore nipples.  "Hhhhh," he breathed gratefully when
he got the chance.  *That hurt.*
     She was really into the crying, though, and didn't seem to notice
him moving her or saying anything.  Tucker felt a bit of a urge to join
in and weep for a while himself, but he was too tired.  *S'been a while
since THAT was the case,* he realized.

     "Well, Marie, why don't you make up trays for each of them," Jane
suggested, "and see if you can get them to eat in a more private
setting."
     Marie smiled gratefully, and picked the children's plates off the
table.  Jane knew that Marie hated it when a student went hungry.
     "And maybe," Robert said when she'd exited through the door to the
kitchen, "she could make me up a tray too."  Jane didn't even have a
chance to start to apologize before he grinned and added, "Twice a day,
delivered-"
     "Ohhhh," Jane sighed at him.  "You."
     "So how DO you stay so thin?" he smiled.

     Charlene had stopped weeping, and Tucker was feeling a little
restless, so he sort of patted her on the back before standing up.
*Shit knows,* he sighed to himself as he opened her door, *they'd
probably accuse me of molesting her if they caught me in her room, and
then who the fuck KNOWS what they'd do.  Probably use it as
justification...*
     Then he didn't WANT to think any more about it, but he couldn't
make himself stop.

     The small knock on the door alerted Charlie to the fact that Marie
was going to come in.  She did, and said, "Charlene, would you like me
to bring dinner to you?"
     "Yes, please, Miss Marie," he said as evenly as he could manage.
He didn't want to see anyone else tonight, and he was tired.
     "Jane wished me to bring you, her apologies, for laughing," Marie
said delicately.
     "Thank you, and I accept her apology," Charlie lied.  *I hope she
burns in Hell!*

     "I'm still not hungry," Valerie claimed, "but, uh, thanks, uh for
the offer.  All I want right now is to go to sleep."
     "Well, you should stay awake for a while," Marie warned, "since
Jane wishes to speak with you after her guest leaves."
     Valerie closed her eyes and sighed deeply.

     "I'm so sorry," Robert apologized to Jane as he hugged her for a
moment in farewell.  "If I'd known..."
     "Well," she sighed, "I don't think you made anything worse, at
least.  And, it was very good to talk to you anyway."  She smiled at
him.  "Feel free to come again soon."
     "But I'll try calling before I do," he said ruefully.

     "... exceedingly rude to a houseguest, an-"
     "What about you!" Tucker exploded.  "I SAID I wasn't hungry, and
YOU refused to listen to that!  Isn't some of politeness and manners the
ability to LISTEN to another person?!"
     *Stupid, Tucker, stupid,* he told himself needlessly, as Jane went
into verbal overdrive and started piling on the multi-syllabics and loan
words from different languages.  He blanked her out as much as possible
and started planning what he was going to do tonight...

     Charlie had started to eat, but ended up crying again, this time
onto Marie's shoulder.  "I am just so tired of it," he sobbed.
     "I know, I know, cherie," she murmured as she stroked his hair.
"You've been doing this a long time, though, and you're much closer to
finishing."
     "I'm never gonna finish with HER!" Charlie burst out.  "She-  She-"
     "You're very good with her, if you can keep your temper," Marie
told him.
     "I can't!" he wailed.  "She keeps DOING stuff to me!"

     Tucker's vision was starting to spot and flare again when Jane
wound the lecture up.  "Do you understand?!"
     "Yes ma'am," he agreed.  'Put up or get out' was the gist of it.
Which he knew already.  *I wish she could just get to the fucking POINT,
instead of torture-by-lecture.  What the hell is it with these people?*
     "Then GO to your room and get ready for bed!" she demanded.  Tucker
fought the urge to toss her a Nazi salute, and instead turned and
marched out.
     "Bloooo-dee 'ell," he sighed to himself as he climbed the stairs,
which seemed to get longer every time he went up.  He had to rest twice
to catch his breath this time.
     When he finally got to his cell and opened the door, the smell of
food almost made him hurl right then and there.  "Oh jeez," he whined as
he shut the bedroom door before grabbing the tray and scurrying to the
bathroom, trying not to breathe.

     "If you could get Valerie ready for the night, I would VERY much
appreciate it, Marie," Jane asked.  "I don't think I can stand another
minute of her tonight."
     "Of course, Jane," Marie smiled.  "But!  Only if you go up and get
to bed early yourself!  I'll clean up...  And no talking to Art for two
hours tonight!" she shook her finger, before grinning impudently.
"Limit yourself and him to a mere hour."
     "All right," Jane smiled wearily back.  "May I take a hot bath as
well?"
     "Oui," Marie agreed, "but don't fall asleep in it."

     *It'd be easier if it was liquids and soft stuff like lunch was,*
Tucker sighed as he flushed the last of the disgusting ordure down the
toilet.  *Having to cut this stuff up into small chunks...  Ugh.*  A
momentary flash made him wonder if cutting up a body would be this bad,
and as he shook his head he decided, *No, because if I killed them, I
could SLEEP for a while, and then eat something without having to worry
about poison, and then I'd just have the bodies to deal with.  As long
as I didn't leave them too long, that is.*  He felt like he could sleep
for a couple of days straight.
     It seemed as though he'd just put the tray down with all its empty
china when Marie came in.  "Oh, you finished your dinner," she smiled at
him.  "Good!"
     *No thanks to you and your creative chemistry,* Tucker smiled back
without saying anything.

     Charlie had just finished drying his hair for the night when he
heard Marie call, "Cherie, I am just picking up your dinner tray."
     "Thank you," he called back through the bathroom door.  *That was
nice of her.*

     Marie had suggested a nice long hot bath to Tucker, but he could
think of more interesting ways to die than exhaustion-induced drowning
in a bathtub.  Instead, he'd taken a shower, soaping his hands and using
them to wash his hair because of a lingering mistrust of whatever they
might have added to the shampoo bottles.  *Well, this oughta get the
grease out, anyway,* he told himself.
     When he got done, he was supposed to get dressed - *Again,* he
sighed - and get into bed, supposedly without further direction or
interference.  *Yah sure.  Shit.*  He crawled into bed, and tried
sitting sazen to see if that would keep him from sleeping.

     "Hello, love," Art said warmly, and Jane smiled at the phone.

     "Just a little bit," Jane said to Tucker, smiling, and he could
smell the cyanide just a bit too late, and he spit it out violently at
her and threw himself sideways before she could grab him, and then he
was on the floor and everything was dark.
     It took him until he'd regained his feet to put together everything
that had happened, and locate himself in 'his' bedroom in Jane's house.
*I hate this fucking place.*

     Art sighed as he went to bed, alone.  *I miss her terribly...*

     *Just a bit...*  Tucker was dusting the keypad on the last alarm
panel, so that whoever typed in the code would only remove the facial
powder from the correct keys.  A tiny dab of butter or shortening
tomorrow would enable him to figure out the order, but he wanted to get
the keys tonight, as a partial check, and to figure out which keypad
they used in the morning to turn off the alarm.
     When he was finally finished, and a last inspection via flashlight
showed the powder was barely visible by Maglite, he shook himself, then
went to go get his laptop.  *High time I checked in, innit?* he asked
himself.  *Downstairs.*  There was a four-prong jack in the basement, if
he remembered where the stupid thing was, and he would be safer there
than on the ground floor; the basement didn't seem to be used for much
except clothing storage, laundry, and sewing.

     "Wha?" Mike complained as he rolled over, then lifted his head.
*That's not the alarm,* he thought muzzily as he looked around his room.
*Comput-  Tuck!* he realized as he remembered he'd set an alarm to go
off when mail from Tucker came in.
     He got up, stumbling slightly as he moved to his computer, and
found that Tucker had indeed sent mail - finally - and it was dated the
Sunday he'd gotten there.  *Fuck, routing problems?* he wondered, and
checked; but it looked like it had just been sent.  *Maybe he just now
got to a phone,* he realized.  *That's gotta be it.  What's he say?*

     Investigating a kitchen with nothing more than a Mini-Maglite was
dangerous work, if you were trying to be silent.  There were a lot of
noisy things in a kitchen, and he didn't know where all of them were in
this one.  So he had to move very slowly, which was like torture after
the last few days.  *Well, that's why you're the best in the biz,* he
lied to himself.  *It's the training and the willpower.*  The lies
weren't really helping, but they were keeping him slightly alert.
     So far, the best bet for food looked to be a couple of potatoes out
of a small bag in the refrigerator, but they definitely would require
cooking, and even though there was a microwave - cooking them in a
campfire would have been safer than doing them in a conventional oven,
here - he still was afraid of the noise that would make.

     "This is not good," Mike said to himself as he got up to recheck
the breakout box he'd packed but not yet sealed.  *Is he gonna need
anything else if I have to send this?  And how the hell do I send
something for next-day delivery at the Post Office?*

     *I HATE this fucking place!* Tucker cursed as he slowly and quietly
snuck down the basement stairs, away from whichever midnight snacker had
tried to give him a heart attack.  *At least it's big enough to sneak
around,* he told himself.  Small places just didn't have anywhere else
to go; if someone unexpected came in or woke up, there you both were,
pretty much.  He hated that.

     Marie sighed, somewhat contentedly, and got up to clean up the
remainder of her warm milk and go back to bed.  She wasn't sure why
she'd woken up with a feeling that something was wrong, but there wasn't
anything.

     *Ahhh, she buys in bulk,* Tucker smiled.  Like his own family did,
Marie used the extra room in her pantry to save money, and had
everything neatly lined up, FIFO-order if she was as smart as she
seemed.  *So, just grab something out of the back,* he decided.  *Two
cans tonight, that ought to be more than enough with your shrunken
stomach.*  The milk would have been nice, but he wasn't sure he could
get some without it being noticed, and it was just barely possible that
the entire bottle - *Bottled milk, I didn't even know they made that
stuff any more,* he'd wondered when he saw it in the refrigerator - had
been adulterated, just in case someone did what he was doing.  Cans, on
the other hand, very almost impossible to tamper with, which was one
reason they persisted even though they were heavy and wasteful of
resources.
     Unfortunately, he didn't have a lot of cans to choose from.
     Finally, he selected one of some strange brand of multi-bean chili,
and another of Campbell's beef soup.  *Carbs in the chili, and then I
can pick up some salt and stuff in the soup,* he hoped.  He knew that
this would probably be more than he could eat, but there was always the
toilet to take care of the leftovers.  *And I REALLY hope the damn thing
doesn't stop itself up,* he prayed.

     "Uuuhhhhggggod," Charlie sighed as he wriggled in bed until he
could reach the alarm.  "I just wish I could sleep late sometimes..."
It seemed more than unusually unfair, that Jane wouldn't even let him
sleep late now that it was summertime.  *Should be a law...*

     The alarm almost made Tucker's brain separate into its two halves,
but he forced them back together and found the source of the hideous
screeching and unplugged it.  "Ah, shit," he gasped as he rocked back on
his butt.
     After eating, he'd been completely terrified at the idea of
actually sleeping; luckily, the stomach cramps he got kept him awake
long enough to think of something else; and when they eased, he began
some stretching exercises, which hurt badly enough to keep him alert, as
well as limber him up somewhat.  Though he was starting to wonder if the
stress lumps under his back and shoulders would ever go away without
surgery.  *Forty days and a Libretto, baby,* he kept telling himself,
but six weeks was starting to look like it might be longer than his
expected lifespan.
     *DON'T EVEN THINK THAT!* he screamed at himself, shaken.  *Shit...
you lose hope, you're dead.  And you can ALWAYS get out of here...*
Hell, this place would work even better than he'd imagined; the clothes
fit, and he had a wig, his own bra, and several balloons to make fake
boobs with.  He could take a couple of changes of clothes, if he bailed,
and that would exponentially increase the difficulty in tracking him.
     "Yeah, exactly," he told himself, and went to go take another
too-cold shower to wake himself up.

     Jane moaned as she thrashed a bit before finding the alarm and
shutting it off, and once again noticed that Art wasn't in bed next to
her.  "I should never have let them go on vacation AND taken in a new
student at the same time," she sighed as she got up, hair spilling down
across her shoulders.


***


Distribution:
No part of this work may be distributed as an original work by another
person or group.
Permission is given to redistribute this by electronic means, as long as
the entirety of the work (from the BEGIN PGP SIGNED MESSAGE header to
the END PGP SIGNATURE footer) is distributed, and credit is given to the
original author, me.  And no fee may be charged.
Archiving is permitted provided no fee is charged for access.

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+ @>--,--'-----   Ellen Hayes   o===[--------      __      vicki .sig  +
                  -=[1990]=-                       \/      virus 12.2
+      http://www.barkingduck.net/ehayes     PGP key: EFC9 5D55 (1996) +




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