A young man, feeling totally unwanted by his family, runs away. He needs to find a way to survive, and eventually, he stumbles into an Op Rescue clinic.
The remaining chapters and epilogue will be released about one a day until this is done. Enjoy.

Note - for some reason, the Prologue isn't showing up on the story list. If you go to my stories under the authors tab, you'll be able to find the prologue. I suggest you read it if you haven't; it sets the stage for Pete's feelings of rejection and his running away.

Operatin Rescue: In Plain Sight - Prologue
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This story is copyright by the author. It is protected by licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Suzie looked up from her computer when the door chime sounded. It had been a slow morning at the clinic. There weren't very many appointments scheduled, so the sound was unexpected. A young man, wearing scruffy clothes, and with scraggly, unkempt hair, was standing just inside the door, looking around nervously. Suzie's first impression was that he was lost, and she instantly thought about calling security. For some reason, though, she didn't.

The newcomer looked to be a kid, short and wiry, and maybe eighteen. He didn't seem to be a threat. She wondered why he was at the clinic. "May I help you?" she asked in her best, friendliest voice.

The boy — for he was only a boy —looked alarmed, even frightened. "Uh, I was ... uh ... looking for a ... job," he stammered nervously.

"Are you here to ask about our program?" Suzie asked. She was rather certain that the boy knew nothing of what the clinic did — if he was even old enough.

The boy seemed to calm down a little. "Uh, yeah. I saw one of your fliers ... in the paper, and I wondered if I could get a job."

Suzie laughed. "It's more than just a job to us," she joked. "I have to ask a couple of questions first, before we can go any further." She gestured to the empty chair in front of her desk. "Please, have a seat."

The boy glanced nervously over his shoulder, out the door, and then eased himself into the chair. "Uh, okay." He couldn't help but notice that the receptionist was pregnant.

Suzie gasped at the boy's appearance. He was thin, almost emaciated, and dirty. His clothes were old, with threadbare spots and a few small tears. In his eyes was a hunted look, like he was on the run from something. "Name and age," she prompted. "And if you have an ID, I'll need to see it."

The boy winced. "Uh, Pete," he mumbled. "Pete Franklin. I'm eighteen."

"Do you have any ID? Drivers' license? Social security card?"

Pete pulled a worn wallet from his pocket, and pulled out a worn plastic card. Suzie looked at it, and then at Pete, and then back at the card. "This is ... expired," she said, her brow wrinkled with concern. "Do you have anything more current?"

Pete shook his head. "No. Just my learner's permit." He sounded and looked nervous at having to provide her details.

"Okay." Suzie jotted down a few notes from the permit, and then handed it back to the boy. "It's surprising that someone your age doesn't have a drivers' license," she commented casually.

Pete visibly stiffened at the comment. "I ... never got my license," he said. "Things ... happened ... before I could get it."

Suzie's eyebrows rose at his unusual statement. "I'll need to see your Social Security card. We have to run a background check on all our applicants. She saw him tense at the comment, and wondered what she was going to find when she did run a check. "Don't worry. It's just routine, unless you've got some criminal history," she added.

"No. I've stayed out of trouble." He still sounded defensive, but proud of being able to say that.

"Okay. I need you to go over to one of the computers over there," she gestured toward a few small cubicles on one wall of the reception area, "and fill out a questionnaire." She smiled. "It's pretty long, and _very_ personal. You need to answer all questions honestly. We have to screen our candidates pretty thoroughly."

"Uh, what kind of job openings do you have?" Pete was curious why she warned him about an intrusive questionnaire.

"We work to save babies who would otherwise be aborted," Suzie explained, absently rubbing her swollen, pregnant tummy. "Our employees are called Adoption Facilitators."

Pete wrinkled his brow. "I don't understand."

"Do you know what we do?" Suzie asked with a curious smile.

Pete shook his head. "From your ad, I figured it's some kind of pro-life thing."

"You could say that." Suzie pointed toward the computers. "And we always need Adoption Facilitators. So if you would please fill out a questionnaire ...?"

Pete realized that he wasn't going to get any more information from this receptionist. She probably didn't know a lot, anyway. His first was that she seemed like a typical dumb blonde secretary. He plodded to one of the cubicles and sat down at the computer.

Suzie noted the disdainful look in his eyes. She chuckled to herself. He had no way of knowing that he'd already passed the first hurdle, that she'd already done the first-level of assessment of his fitness to join the program. Far from being a dumb blonde, Suzie was well on her way to getting her master's degree so she could become a counselor, and from the moment Pete had walked through the door, she'd been studying his every action and word. While he was busy at the computer, Suzie typed a quick memo to the office director. When she finished that task, she began to intently search records on the Internet, to find out more about the prospective client.

Over an hour later, a very puzzled Pete leaned back from the keyboard. The questionnaire had been more than a little intrusive and personal. He stood and shuffled back to Suzie's desk, glancing warily out the door, and around the reception room. Two very pregnant ladies were reading magazines as they sat, waiting for who-knows-what. One glanced up at him, and she gave him a very pleasant smile. Pete felt a little suspicious of her pleasant demeanor.

"I'm finished," he informed Suzie.

Suzie smiled at him. "Please have a seat, and our director will be with you in a few minutes." She had watched him as he filled out the form; whenever the door opened, he seemed quite startled, and glanced nervously at any who came or left the clinic. He definitely had the look of a hunted animal.

He sat down where he could see both the clinic entrance and the doors to the rear, behind Suzie's reception desk. He rifled through the pile of magazines, but was put off by the titles and topics he saw — all fashion, home décor, and pregnancy, so he just leaned back, trying to look like he was resting.

Up to that point, the only clients that Pete had seen were women. But when the door chimed again, a man walked in. Pete gasped; the man looked so effeminate that it was a startling reminder of the encounters with some of the more extreme gay hookers who had tried to get him to work for their pimps. The newcomer wore his hair in a style that was more feminine than androgynous, and he wore makeup and had his nails done. His clothes were very feminine, but he was still, clearly, a man. A man trying to look like a woman, but a man nonetheless.

"Good morning, Emily," Suzie greeted the newcomer cheerfully. "Are you here for your checkup?"

Emily, the newcomer, nodded. "Tina wants one more check before I can have my transfer." Her voice was between masculine and feminine — and trying for the latter.

"Go on back, then. You know the way." Suzie turned back to the computer, noting the reaction from Pete.

Pete frowned. This clinic had started as a mystery, and was getting more enigmatic — scarier — by the second. Suzie had never explained exactly what they did, and now he was starting to wonder what he was getting himself into. The hunger in his stomach, though, a near constant reminder of his state of existence, pushed away those doubts.

"Would you like a little snack while you're waiting?" Suzie asked pleasantly.

Pete realized that she was watching him. "Uh, yes, please," he mumbled. "If it's not too much trouble." He revised his opinion of her. She was far from a dumb blonde. In fact, he realized belatedly, she'd probably been studying and evaluating him from the moment he'd entered. He swallowed nervously; had he blown it already by acting like she was an airhead secretary? He fought the urge to run from the office. Only the promise of respite from his nearly-overpowering hunger kept him in his seat.

Suzie left her desk and walked into what, from Pete's angle, was just an alcove. In a few moments, she was back with a bottle of juice, a fruit-salad wrapped in plastic, and a plastic fork. "Here you are," she said as she handed the snack to Pete.

She watched as he ate, gathering still more data on the prospective client. He looked around nervously, and then dug into the food. She could see that he was trying desperately to eat slowly, in a dignified manner, but his hunger was visibly overwhelming, and he was eating like he hadn't eaten in days. In mere moments, he put the empty food containers into the trash. "Thank you," he said. For the first time, he seemed to let his guard down — just a bit.

A few moments later, Suzie came over to where Pete was sitting. "Something came up, and our director is quite busy. She said I should take you to get your physical, and then we'll set up a follow-up appointment after she has a chance to review your test results."

Pete nodded nervously and stood. As they walked down the hall, Pete glanced at Suzie. "I promise that I won't fail any drug tests," he said with conviction. "I've never done any drugs."

Suzie wondered why he had volunteered that information. She strongly suspected that he feared she was pre-judging him, and had expected that someone who looked like a runaway teen _would_ abuse drugs — or worse. With the training she was taking, and from other clients, Suzie knew what life on the streets could be like. She decided to not reply to his comment.

"And I've never done anything else," Pete added defensively, answering the question that he was certain Suzie wanted to ask.

It was a short walk to the nurse's station, which was a large, high, circular counter with work desk space on the inside of the circle. It was split in two with a gap on either side for accessing the work area, situated at an enlarged intersection of two hallways. Suzie walked to the counter. "Hi, Beth," she said to interrupt one of the two nurses at the station.

The older nurse, dressed in light magenta scrubs, looked up at Suzie. "Yes?"

"I've got a prospective host, and I need to get a complete physical for him." She handed a thin folder to Beth. Pete realized that she'd been collecting data on him while he'd been taking the test. He was trembling slightly with fear, wondering what was in the folder, and with whom it would be shared.

Beth took the folder, opened it on her desk, and glanced at her computer. "Tina should be available in a few minutes. She just got out of surgery, and she wanted to grab a bite."

Pete studied Beth carefully as she scanned whatever data Suzie had put in the folder. She was older than Suzie — perhaps forty or forty-five. She had a delightful, cheerful face, and she wore her hair in a short style that complemented her facial shape nicely. Her hazel eyes sparkled with joy. She stood, and as she extended her hand in greeting, he saw that she was a bit shorter than average, and just a bit more plump than Suzie. By no means was she fat, though. "Nice to meet you, Peter," she said with certainty.

Pete looked at her hand for a moment, before he tentatively extended his own hand to shake. He was surprised by the strength of her grip. "I go by Pete," he said stiffly, correcting her.

"I'm sorry. Pete it is, then." She glanced down at her computer. "While we're waiting for the doctor, we can start some of the routine parts of the physical." She stood, picked up a portable computer, and walked between the semi-circular desks toward one of the hallways.

"Good luck, Pete." With a smile, Suzie turned and walked back toward the reception area.

"Step on the scale, please," Beth directed Pete. Obediently, he complied. "One hundred twenty two pounds. Okay," she said as she jotted the information into the computer. "Do you know your height?"

"No, ma'am," Pete said softly.

"Ah, ah, ah! We aren't formal around here! You can call me Beth." She winked at him. "It sounds a lot younger than ma'am." From Suzie's brief notes, she was aware of now nervous, even paranoid, the boy was, and she turned on her charm to calm him as best as she could.

"Okay, ... Beth," Pete agreed. It was plain that calling adults by their first names was a struggle for him.

"Stand against the wall right there," Beth indicated a spot on the wall with markings going up the wall, demarked with their inch measurements, "with your heels touching the wall." As Pete complied, Beth read and marked down his height. "Five foot, eight inches," she told him as she input the data. "You're not a large boy, are you?"

Pete shook his head, an angry frown on his face. "_They_ always made fun of me for being a skinny runt, too!" he said bitterly.

"I wasn't making fun of you," Beth said quickly to clarify. She hadn't expected the reaction that she'd just received. "Your friends?" she asked.

"Them, too." There was no hiding the venom in his voice toward whomever he was referring.

Beth handed Pete a cup. "Go in the restroom, and give a urine sample. Put your name on the lid, and put the cup in the metal box." While he was busy, Beth couldn't help but wonder what had emotionally hurt this boy so badly that he was so bitter and had a look of both rejection and anger in his eyes. And fear. There was no mistaking fear in his expression. He was terrified of ... something.

After he finished in the restroom, Beth took him to an examining room, and collected routine data associated with a physical, like blood pressure, respiration, and temperature. When she prepared a needle to take a blood sample, she saw him pale. "I take it you don't like needles?" Beth asked.

Pete shook his head. "They make me think of ... all the junkies ... out there."

"This shouldn't hurt much. Just look at the chart on the wall, and it'll be done before you know it." As she collected the blood sample, she kept chatting, mostly to keep him from being nervous. As they talked, Beth began to like Pete. He was a quiet, reserved, frightened boy, but she suspected that there was an inner core of strength and determination. She got the distinct impression that he was being very careful to not expose his feelings or emotions to anybody. She couldn't help but wonder why.

**********

"Okay, let's have a look at you," Dr. Tina Martelli said as she put down the tablet computer.

Pete shifted nervously on the examining table; he was clad in only the gown Beth had given him, and he was not used to having a female doctor examine him. "Uh ...," he stammered nervously.

"I know this is embarrassing, but I'm a doctor," Tina scolded him lightly. She was startled at his reaction — her words seemed to have hit him with the power of a gunshot. "I'm a professional. I promise I won't hurt you."

Pete was only slightly mollified. "Okay," he grudgingly replied.

"By the way, I'm Dr. Tina Martelli, but you can call me Tina." Tina put her stethoscope earpieces in her ears, and held the instrument against her hand to warm it up. After a moment, she placed it on his back. "Deep breath." She listened for a moment, and then moved the stethoscope to his other side. "Again." She placed it on his chest, and had him repeat the deep breaths. "Hold your breath," she directed as she placed it over his heart. After a moment, she let it drop and pulled the earpieces out. "Your lungs and heart sound healthy. Did Beth already get the EKG?"

"Yeah," Pete answered. He wasn't getting any less nervous. "And a chest X-ray, and she drew a lot of blood."

Tina began to probe him physically, feeling his adenoids, then down his neck. "Okay, now comes the embarrassing parts," she said with a smile. "You need to stand up so I can check you for hernias. You _do_ know how I do that, don't you?"

"Uh, no," Pete admitted. He looked more than a little scared.

"I have to feel alongside your scrotum," Tina explained clinically. She pulled on exam gloves. "Don't be nervous, or embarrassed; it's a standard part of a physical. Everyone — at least the men and boys — get this exam." She placed her fingers and pressed. "Turn your head and cough." When Pete complied, she moved to the other side. "Okay, again."

Pete was blushing at the very personal intrusion. His complexion turned scarlet when she had him bend over for a prostate exam.

"Okay, the worst part is over," Tina said professionally. "Please take off the gown so I can examine you." She quickly examined his body, looking for deformities, including of his genitals. She felt his muscles and ribs, noting that some ribs were showing a little bit, evidence of an inadequate diet. "Okay, you can put the gown back on." While he did so, she made some notes in her computer. She turned back to Pete. "Okay, now we'll check your range of motion and reflexes." He followed her instructions in bending, squatting, and moving his body as she directed. Finally, she had him sit back down.

"You're a little on the thin side," Tina observed. "How is your diet?"

Pete shrugged. "Okay, I guess."

"Three meals a day, whole grains, fruits and vegetables, limited fat and red meat?"

"Uh, not really," Pete answered, looking down. He realized how far his diet differed from what Tina had suggested — and the discussion of diet made his hungry stomach rumble.

"What do you eat?"

"Uh, some fruits, when I can. Same for vegetables. A lot of meat, I guess. And once in a while, I get some canned food."

"Snacks? Junk food?"

Pete shook his head. "I don't know how long it's been since I've had a candy bar," he admitted.

"Any vitamins or other supplements?" Pete shook his head. Tina scowled at his response. "I'll know more when we look at your blood chemistry, but I'm a little concerned about your nutrition. Your body mass index is very low for a young man your age."

"You're making fun of me being small and skinny, too," Pete snapped.

"No, no, no!" Tina reacted quickly. The boy was _very_ sensitive about his size. His reaction indicated that he'd probably been teased severely about it when he was younger.

"What are all the tests about?" Pete asked cautiously. "Are you looking for drugs or alcohol?"

Tina nodded. "Partly. We're also doing screening for various antibodies, looking at the blood chemistry, and looking at your hormone levels." She saw his concerned expression. "It's part of our standard physical." Inwardly, she wasn't so confident. He definitely had symptoms of malnutrition. She wondered just what his diet had been.

**********

"Have a nice day, Pete," Suzie called after Pete as he walked toward the clinic door.

Pete glanced over his shoulder and nodded. "You, too," he said, but his voice lacked conviction or warmth. He stopped at the door and looked outside, carefully looking around the clinic entrance, before he pushed the door open and stepped into the street.

Behind him, Suzie sat at her desk, wondering. She should have discouraged him as soon as his ID check had revealed his status as a runaway. He was too much of a risk. She chided herself — if she ever wanted to be a counselor, she'd need to not only recognize problems, but act on them.

Outside the clinic, Pete trudged slowly down the sidewalk, wondering what to do next. From the angle of the sun, he could tell that it was late — his watch had quit working long ago, and the chill of an autumn evening was starting to come. Damn, but he should have brought a jacket, he chided himself. He had a ways to go to get back 'home' — and one of the neighborhoods wasn't exactly good.

Pete walked quickly, his hands in his pockets, looking down to hide his face. From the corner of his eye, he saw a police cruiser driving past, and he shuddered. Had the clinic ratted on him, and now the police were searching again? He forced himself to stay calm. Bolting from the scene would be suspicious - if the cops hadn't seen him yet, they would. After several nerve-wracking seconds, the police car was out of sight, and Pete focused on his tasks.

His first stop was a fast-food restaurant. He knew that the pickings would be slim; waste food was easiest to find after nine, but by then, it would be very dark and chilly, and he'd be competing with the other homeless people who dumpster-dived for food. Absently, he rubbed his rib, the one he was certain had been broken more than a year ago in a major scuffle about territorial rights to a dumpster.

Pete felt lucky to find a half-eaten cheeseburger, which he wolfed down. He was still very hungry, so he altered his course toward a church, where he knew they had a food collection basket. If he was lucky, there wouldn't be any parishioners around, and he could 'liberate' a can or two of food.

Unfortunately for Pete, the church was bustling with people, and with his stomach growling angrily, he set course for 'home'. There were two more restaurants along the way; one Thai, which he hated but would eat because he was too hungry, and the other a chicken place. Maybe he'd get lucky.

Pete had rationalized that taking food from food donation boxes and clothing from goodwill pick up spots was okay, because he was, after all, poor and homeless — the type for whom the goods were intended anyway. Beyond that, though, he tried not to steal — and certainly not to shoplift. He knew of a couple of runaway teens who'd been caught shoplifting, and the police had reunited them with their families. Besides, that was blatantly stealing, and Pete couldn't bring himself to do that. As a consequence, he had to buy some supplies, and his money supply had slowly dwindled, despite his best efforts to not buy anything.

For a brief moment, Pete thought about going to the library again. It was warm, and he could hide in a cubicle while he surfed the internet. But it would close, and he was afraid of getting caught napping again. _That_ had been a close one; for some reason, the library staff had called the police to remove him rather than simply awakening him. Pete had barely gotten away, ducking out the emergency exit and diving into the trash bin. He shuddered to think of going through that ordeal again. No, the library was for early mornings, so he wouldn't risk falling asleep around closing time again.

Pete turned toward the edge of town. It was time to get back to his hut, so he'd be safe for the night. He knew the neighborhood he was traversing.

"Hi, Petey," a voice called out from the top of a staircase in front of an old brick building.

Pete was startled, but only just. He knew this neighborhood pretty well, and many of the people in it. "Oh, hi, Vern."

The young man — or boy, depending on perspective — pranced down the stairs. "How'th it going?" Vern clutched Pete's arm in a friendly, affectionate gesture.

Pete shrugged. He'd gotten used to Vern over time. At first, Vern's dress, his walk, and his lisp bugged the hell out of Pete. Vern didn't walk, he minced about, swinging his hips as he walked on his high-heeled boots — which barely qualified as men's shoes. His jeans were stylish and tight, like a woman's, and he wore a frilly silk blouse. Vern's hair was almost stereotypically gay, and with three studs in each ear and a large ball stud in his tongue forcing him to lisp, there was no way he'd ever be mistaken for a manly boy, even if one ignored his eye shadow and lip gloss. "It's okay."

Vern giggled. "I doubt it. It'th getting cool again, and you're homeleth. I know it'th going to be a long, cold winter."

Pete tried not to be angry. Vern wasn't responsible for what he'd become — a gay hooker. It was Luis, his pimp, who, over time, had made Vern into a caricature of a sissy gay boy, just like he'd 'persuaded' other kids to be what would make him the most money. Pete shuddered at the thought of being pushed down that path. It steeled his resolve. "Tell Luis I said no."

"Oh, come on," Vern pleaded, leaning his head onto Pete's shoulder like a lovesick girl. "You know it'th going to be cold, and you'd have a warm bed and regular mealth. And," Vern looked at Pete longingly, "we could alwayth cuddle on cold nighth to keep warm." Vern made no secret of the fact that he had a crush on Pete.

"No," Pete said again, more firmly. He contemplated running — again. A few times, he'd been scared when Luis and a few of his crew — gay boys and men, girls, and young women, had closed in around him. He feared that he'd be kidnapped and forced into a life of sexual servitude, and end up like Vern. While Luis had some more macho gay prostitutes working for him, Pete knew that, given his size, he'd be pushed down the same path as Vern.

"I had to athk," Vern said sweetly. "Even if you don't work, if it getth too cold thome night, you can alwayth come by and cuddle with me to thtay warm." Vern released Pete's arm and sashayed back to his staircase. He stopped to blow a kiss over his shoulder at Pete.

Pete shuddered inwardly as he continued his journey. Several times over the years, when it had been freezing cold, and he was desperately hungry, he'd almost given in. One time, he'd found himself walking, wrapped in a blanket, through the frosty late night air, toward this spot, to Luis and Vern and all the others. He'd caught himself — that time — but he wondered how much longer he could hold out. He had almost no money left. Food was hit-or-miss.

When he got to the wooded area, Pete glanced around himself nervously. This was when it got dangerous. This was a known location for marijuana growers, hiding their plants among the trees and bushes and shrubs of the large woods. They were very territorial and quite dangerous, especially in the very early morning and late evening hours, when people were shadows moving among the trees. They had a tendency to shoot first in defense of their valuable plants, and it was getting more perilous every month.

Pete sighed with relief when he closed the 'door' behind himself in his hut. The first thing he did was to grab a sweater and pull it on, and then wrap a blanket around himself for further insulation from the rapidly-falling temperature. A tiny candle, stored under his bed, was lit, providing a bit of flickering illumination — enough that it didn't seem like he was in a cave. The tiny bit of heat given off by the candle, coupled with the insulating layer of dead foliage, helped keep the hut livable — barely.

Sleep was fitful to Pete that evening, and the next two. He was out of options. He could work for Luis — and probably end up a sissified gay hooker like Vern, or he could work for the clinic in their mysterious job. While he didn't object to gay people or their lifestyle — he had known a few kids in school who were gay, and he got along with them, and Vern was a nice-enough guy, even if he was annoyingly affectionate - Pete didn't want to get into the prostitution business. From what he'd seen and heard over time, it was a brutal business; hookers were only useful to the pimps as long as they made money, and to make money, they had to do whatever a customer might want. It could get dangerous, too. He'd heard of a few prostitutes who'd met an untimely demise, through violence of customers, pimps, and rivals, or through drug overdoses. And there was the police record — if he were arrested, his name would be advertised, especially since the city started the 'shame the hookers and johns' campaign a year earlier. That, in turn, would bring _them_.

The clinic was a mystery. Adoption facilitator. What the hell was that? The staff seemed nice, but Pete had encountered too many people who'd been nice or charming at first, and only later had revealed their true motives or personalities. He didn't trust them. And the guy who'd come in — he seemed more gay than Vern. What was the business all about?

It all came down to his options. He couldn't continue existing like he was. Food was scarce, it was cold, and the drug dealers had made the area too dangerous. Worst of all, he'd accidentally broken his knife, his prized possession, a couple of months ago. He'd learned, over the years, that a good survival knife was essential to living the way he did. Every reference he'd consulted for living in the wilderness had emphasized the importance of a good knife. Without it, he couldn't cut tinder to start a small fire. He had nothing to strike against the flint to start a fire. He couldn't skin and cut up rabbits and other small animals he trapped. Worse, he had nothing with which to defend himself. The loss of the knife had been a devastating blow to Pete, and he didn't have enough money to replace it. At the time, he knew it was bad. Now, with winter approaching, he realized just _how_ bad the loss was.

Worst, though, was the increasing danger from the pot growers. While it might be safer during the winter season, spring would bring planting season, and renewed hazards. Last season, two groups had fought over the woods. If that happened again, Pete could easily find himself caught in the crossfire. Even more ominously, Pete knew that if he was caught, he was disposable; the growers would think nothing of making a homeless runaway 'disappear'.

Pete was faced with a cold, brutal winter, with inadequate food and supplies, followed by three seasons of threat from the criminal element, again with meager rations. While he'd survived for almost two and a half years in his hut, he'd slowly come to the conclusion that he couldn't go on much longer where he was.

Pete had three choices. The first — turning himself in and returning home — he discounted even as the thought formed. He'd rather die than stoop to that. Working for Luis — that was an option, but it was fraught with peril. Because prostitution was illegal, they wouldn't directly turn him over to his family. But the odds weren't good. Death or disease were frequent outcomes, and if, by chance, he survived, he knew that by twenty-five or thirty, he'd be discarded as being too old and unattractive. That left the clinic. He didn't like the uncertainty of not knowing precisely what they would have him do. Adoption Facilitator. It sounded important, and the pay was more than reasonable. But ... what the hell was the job? And the commitment was long — at least eight months, the receptionist had told him. What if it didn't work? What if they checked directly with the police department? There were too many 'what ifs'.

He huddled in his 'home', fighting off the brisk autumn air and the constant hunger, trying to figure out which option was better. He kept coming back to the clinic, and the mysterious job of being an Adoption Facilitator. He had an appointment in two days with the director. Based on her reaction, he realized that the receptionist didn't really expect him to keep it.

**********

"Mister Franklin?" The voice belonged to a woman who was impeccably dressed, standing in a doorway. She was in her mid-thirties, and her shoulder-length brown hair was quite attractively layered and styled, with modest highlights. Her jewelry wasn't ostentatious, but modest and professional, while also very feminine. She stepped forward as Pete stood, and she extended her hand. "I'm Doctor Rachel McKnight, director of this center."

Pete felt a little fear. He was intimidated by her professional credentials and demeanor. "I'm Pete Franklin, ma'am," he said, his cracking voice betraying his nervousness.

Rachel picked up on his unease. "Don't be nervous. We don't bite," she laughed. "And I think you've already been told that we're very informal around here. Please call me Rachel." Her eyes twinkled with warmth. "Let's go back to my office and chat."

"Okay." Pete sounded very hesitant as he followed Rachel back to her office.

He had no sooner sat down than Rachel began with a very pointed question. "Why did you run away?" she asked bluntly.

Pete's eyes narrowed suddenly. "Are you going to tell someone that I'm here?" he asked. He looked near panic at the prospect, and ready to bolt from the clinic if need be.

Rachel shook her head, a slight smile on her face. "We verified you’re over eighteen, which is a requirement for the program. You're not a minor, so we don't need to tell anyone you were here. We _can't_, in fact. There are patient privacy rules, you know."

"Oh." He was relieved at her reassurance, but only just.

"Why did you run away?" she said, reiterating her question.

Pete stared at her for a moment, weighing whether he wanted to trust her. "I ... I couldn't stay," he said softly. "They didn't want me. They _hated_ me."

In his brief statement, Rachel read volumes about his emotional state and motivations. He was a small, frightened young man who'd been living on the street for a long time. His words were confirming what the psychological profile test had told her. "By 'they', I assume you mean your family?" She saw the tiniest of nods. "Your parents?" He tried not to betray the reasons, but his eyes gave away his secret. "Was it ... abuse?"

Pete shook his head. Her words had stirred memories, and the corners of his eyes began to moisten at those unpleasant memories. "No!" he answered sharply. "They just hated me. They ... made my life hell, because they didn't ... love me." He was fighting a losing battle to contain his anger at what they'd done to him over the years. "How ... how did you know? That I ran away, I mean."

"It wasn't hard to find out," Rachel said with a smile. She noted from the tone of his answer that there probably _was_ abuse of some form. "We did a background check on you." She saw the startled look on Pete's face. "Don't worry. It's standard procedure, and the law says that it has to remain confidential." Pete breathed a little easier at her assurance. "We had to see if you had any criminal record, or anything else that would be ... disqualifying."

"Oh."

"According to the reports," Rachel glanced at her computer monitor, "you ran away almost two and a half years ago."

"Does that mean ... you don't want me?" Pete asked warily. His voice echoed with pain and rejection.

Rachel realized that he felt, in many ways, like the babies they worked so hard to save were — unloved and unwanted. She fought back a strong sense of compassion for the boy. She couldn't let her emotions interfere with the job she was doing, which was to rescue the babies, not a runaway boy. "That doesn't mean anything of the sort. We will judge your fitness for the program entirely on your psychological test scores and physical exam results." She smiled. "You'd be surprised at some of the ... interesting stories that some of our clients have told. We take pride in the fact that, in helping babies, we give a second chance to a lot of deserving people who are down on their luck."

Pete seemed wary. "Okay," he said, acknowledging her words, but not fully accepting the underlying message.

"Why do you want to work with us?"

Pete shrugged. "I need to earn some money."

"That's a pretty honest answer," Rachel laughed. She got serious again. "Do you know what we do?"

"The adoption facilitator thing - is it like clerical stuff?"

Rachel smiled. "Not quite. But we'll get back to that in a bit. I'd like to talk to you about what you've been doing while you've been living on the street. How you've survived, and so forth."

Pete's became stone-faced. "You got the reports," he said icily.

Rachel knew she'd hit a nerve. That was okay — she had to know more about what made this kid tick. A lot more. "I got reports that cover since your eighteenth birthday. Juvenile records are sealed, you know."

"Oh."

"A lot of runaways end up in ... bad situations," Rachel tried to be diplomatic. "It's hard for a teenager to make money, unless they turn to certain trades — like sex or drugs."

Pete frowned, his eyes flashing with anger. "I've never done drugs!" he snarled. "And I've never been ... involved in prostitution." He shuddered involuntarily at the thought.

From his almost unseen reaction, Rachel had uncovered another detail she needed to know. "I wasn't implying ...."

"Yes, you were," Pete rebutted sharply. He angrily glared at her for a moment, but then he looked down, ashamed of his angry reaction to a legitimate question, and continued. "Sometimes ... it got so tough that I was tempted. When it was so cold, and I was so hungry ...." He looked up, his eyes steely again, as if he were chiding himself for letting his guard down. "But I never did!"

"Because of the work we do, I have to know," Rachel said, trying to calm the boy. "Now, let's talk about what we do."

"It's some kind of adoption thing," Pete offered with hesitation, "right?"

Rachel laughed. "Kind of. How do you feel about abortion?"

Pete shrugged, but continued to eye Rachel with an untrusting gaze. "I hadn't really thought about it. It's not like it's something I'd have to worry about, is it?"

"Interesting way to look at it," Rachel observed. "Our foundation was set up to provide an alternative to abortion."

"Like ... helping people adopt babies instead of abortions, right?" Pete speculated.

"Very good. The problem is that some pregnant girls and women don't want to carry the baby to term, though."

Pete frowned. "So ... how can you help _them_?" he asked, puzzled.

"Two very gifted researchers discovered a way to transfer a baby from one mother to another before the baby is born. Kind of like an organ transplant," she added when she saw Pete's confusion.

"Oh. So that's what your clinic does? Helps arrange those things?"

"In a nutshell, yes."

"So what would _I_ be doing then — since I'm not a girl? Paperwork stuff?"

Rachel smiled. "Not quite." She glanced at her computer. "I see, from your questionnaire, that you're rather ambivalent about sex." Pete blushed and looked down. "You aren't gay, but your sexual identity is rather neutral."

"What does this have to do with ...?" Pete demanded angrily, clearly upset by the direction the conversation had turned. It seemed to be getting too close to Vern and his gay image and lifestyle.

"The service we provide," Rachel continued as if he hadn't said anything, "is to provide host wombs for unwanted babies, so they can be delivered into the world and adopted by loving families that _do_ want them."

"But I still don't get ...." Pete's eyes slowly widened, as he began to put the pieces together. "The guy who came in last time I was here .... Are you saying that ...?" He scooted to the edge of his chair, his hands on the arms, ready to dash from the room.

"When we don't have enough women who volunteer, we allow men to participate in this wonderful life-saving experience," Rachel spoke almost reverently. "But to do that, men need to have certain ... adaptations."

"Surgery? To make them into women?" Pete asked, astonished. "But ... I thought that sex surgery didn't ...."

"Didn't you ever learn about cloned organs? Our founders were the ones who invented that process." She saw a light of recognition in his eyes. "We use a tissue sample to grow new parts so our male volunteers are qualified to carry the babies."

She expected to see a look of shock in Pete's eyes, and even panic at her suggestion. She was disappointed. The expression he had was almost like visibly watching his mental gears turn. His mind was racing. Never in his life had he been a macho individual. He was smaller, and quieter, and much less physical than most boys his age. He had no strong attachment to his sex. "How ... how far do the changes go? How ... completely female ... are the men who work for you?"

"Did you take biology before you dropped out?"

"No."

"Then consider this a biology lesson." Rachel smiled again. "A baby develops and grows in a uterus, or womb. To have the proper hormones for a baby to develop, it is necessary to have ovaries. Fallopian tubes are optional, but since the whole thing develops as a unit like it would in a baby, we seldom leave them out. That's actually more trouble," she explained unnecessarily. "And then a baby needs a birth canal to be born ...."

"A ... birth canal?" Pete asked. Fear had crept back into his voice.

"A vagina," Rachel said without emotion. "So essentially, everything down below is female."

"Oh." Pete blushed bright red, and he visibly tensed. "What else? The ... guy ... I saw earlier looked like he was — really changing all over."

Rachel noted that Pete seemed more intrigued by a full change than nervous. "That doesn't scare you?"

Pete shook his head. "You're the one who said my sexual identity was, um, neutral." He lowered his head and blushed. "I'm ... er, that is, I've never ... um ...."

She noted his hesitancy and embarrassment at admitting, without saying as much, that he was a virgin. Having run away at fifteen had robbed him of social interactions, including the time to explore his sexuality. She decided not to push that angle — not yet, anyway. Pete was being very careful with his choice of words, and he was hiding his emotions. "It's up to the client. One thing that does happen is that men in the program develop breasts."

Pete flinched. "Why?"

"Biology," Rachel said with a smile. "To carry a baby, a woman's system is flooded with female hormones, estrogen and progesterone, so she'll be prepared to nurse the baby. They're the same hormones that cause a girl's breasts to develop. Does _that_ scare you?"

"So, if I understand, I'll have all my ... stuff ... replaced by girl parts, and then I'll grow ... boobs, too?" Pete was trembling with fear at the implications of Rachel's explanation. "What part of me _wouldn't_ be female?"

"Face, hair, name. Your general body shape. But it's all temporary. At the conclusion of the contract, we restore your body." Rachel was expecting Pete to bolt for the door, but he didn't. Was he out of choices? For homeless kids on the street, there weren't many options. But it was also possible that he saw such a radical change as a way to hide. She was curious what he'd run away from that could make him accept such a significant change to hide himself.

"Oh. Okay." Pete suppressed a shudder coursing down his spine. It would be hard — being a young, pregnant, and homeless girl. It would be a big change — to go from being a boy to being a girl. But the alternatives ....

"Pete," Rachel said, suddenly sounding very warm and full of empathy, "if you're accepted, you and I are going to spend a lot of time together. Counseling is mandatory, especially for men in the program. This is a huge step in a person's life. It's not to be taken lightly, either by you or by us."

"Oh," Pete mumbled.

Rachel decided to pass on further discussion of his question — at least for the moment. "Do you know what it's like for a pregnant woman?"

Pete shook his head.

"A pregnant woman will have a swollen belly, swollen ankles, painful breasts, sore back, a kicking baby that makes you have to urinate frequently, cramps, possibly throwing up every morning from morning sickness, strange food cravings, and hormones that make your moods shift faster than you can think. Then, when she's had enough of that, she starts labor, with contractions, pain, and the unpleasantness of childbirth. Does that frighten you?" She watched his reaction.

Pete gulped, and then nodded feebly. "Yeah. A little."

"Good. It's supposed to," Rachel said with a smile. She gazed at him for several seconds, trying to read any emotions that his expressions would betray. He showed none, however. " So let's talk a little about you. What do you like? What don't you like?"

"Why?" He sounded suspicious - again.

"I need to get to know you," Rachel replied, "before I can judge whether this program is for you or not."

**********

"Okay," Rachel said, looking around the conference room. "We're in agreement that Hailey Kingston is not a good candidate?" She watched as her staff physicians, including Dr. Tina, shook their heads. The two other counselors on staff also shook their heads. She glanced at the receptionist who was taking notes. "Please mark her application as unsuitable, and set up an appointment with her as soon as possible so I can talk with her, okay?" The girl nodded. "Okay, what else?"

"The last packet is Mister Franklin."

Rachel winced visibly. "Okay." She sighed. It was plain that she didn’t want to deal with this particular application packet. "Tina?"

Dr. Tina Martelli, head surgeon, glanced around. "Physically, he's a good candidate. He's young, and his physical test results are all acceptable."

"Isn't he the skinny kid?" one of the other doctors asked.

Tina nodded. "His BMI is just under 20. He's under desirable weight, but not unhealthily so." She frowned. "He shows signs of malnutrition, so I'm concerned about that."

"Serious?"

Tina shook her head. "Nothing some healthy food and a multivitamin wouldn't fix." She glanced at her computer. "His hormones are within range, except his testosterone is on the low end." She glanced up. "I'm not surprised, given his nutritional state." She looked back at the computer. "No STDs. No detectable drugs, alcohol, or nicotine. He's negative on all the diseases we screen for."

Rachel frowned. "Is he physically acceptable?"

Tina nodded. "Yes. He's in pretty good shape for a runaway — except for an abscessed tooth that'll need to be taken care of."

One of the counselors chimed in, "If I remember right, didn't his psychological tests show some serious trust issues?"

Beth felt a need to speak up. "He's a scared, emotionally abused kid who had to run away from home to survive. For someone who's lived on the streets for over two years, he's remarkably clean from drugs and STDs."

Rachel shot Beth a warning look. She sounded like she was advocating in favor of Pete, which was against her rules. "I'm not sure we want to take a chance with him," she said.

"Haven't we had other clients who were from similar backgrounds?" Tina asked rhetorically.

Rachel shook her head. "Yes, but there's something Mister Franklin was hiding from me during our interview, and it left me with a very bad feeling."

"How long will it take to grow new organs for him?" Beth asked. The question was also rhetorical; everyone knew that it took a minimum of four weeks with the rapid growth procedures and drugs the foundation used. "Why can't we take him in — provisionally — and do some further evaluations on him during that time?"

Rachel glanced around the room, and saw nods of approval at the proposed arrangement. Until he committed, the danger to a baby was non-existent, and the cost of growing the cloned female organs for Pete was only a miniscule fraction of the cost of the entire host pregnancy. "Do you agree with that recommendation?" She saw hesitant nods around the room. "Okay, we'll do it that way. Let's get back to work." She sat back as her staff started to file out of the room. "Beth, one moment, please."

Beth seemed to be expecting Rachel's words. She hadn't started moving from her chair. The two waited until everyone was out of the conference room.

"You know you're not supposed to advocate for potential clients," Rachel reminded her in a reproving tone.

Beth nodded. "I know. It's just that he's a nice kid when you talk to him. He's been through a lot, and he wants to have someone accept him."

"Did he tell you?" Rachel asked, trying not to sound critical. Even though she was the head counselor, she _did_ value the inputs of her staff, and she made a point to listen to their input about patients.

"Not in so many words. But I ... I don't know how to describe it. I just know he's a very hurt boy that needs a chance." Beth shook her head. "Once you get past his fear, he reminds me so much of ...," her voice cracked, "of Michael."

Rachel put her hand gently on Beth's arm. "Beth, you know we have to be very careful not to get emotionally involved. No matter how hard. No matter how much they remind us of family or friends."

Beth sighed. "I know."

"We have to make sure we save our sympathy for the babies," Rachel reminded Beth. Not for the hosts."

**********

Pete walked nervously into Rachel's office. She'd promised him that she'd get in touch with him, but she had no way to do so, and so she'd made him promise to return to the clinic on the following Tuesday. Suzie had seemed quite surprised to see him

Rachel rose from her desk, strode to the door, and extended her hand in greeting. "I'm glad you could make it."

"I told you I'd be here," Pete answered, uncertain of whether she, too, hadn't expected him to return.

"No, I didn't mean that I'm surprised," Rachel answered with a light laugh. "Let's sit down and talk." She gestured toward the informal part of the office, a couple of wing chairs and a large, overstuffed sofa.

Pete sat on the sofa, visibly luxuriating in the soft cushions. Despite the fact that he looked physically relaxed for the first time since she'd met him, Rachel noted that his eyes were still alert, and had the look of being constantly on guard against unknown dangers.

"Are you curious about how the tests went?" Rachel prompted, trying to draw some kind of reaction from Pete. She needed to get him out of his shell, so she could understand him better.

"I figured you'd tell me one way or the other," Pete answered without emotion.

Rachel noted that Pete was very good at hiding his feelings — except for the visible fear and lack of trust. Those were apparently too deeply ingrained for him to be able to conceal. She made a mental note that she'd have to work with him on that. "Have you considered everything that will happen to you? The surgeries, the physical and emotional changes, the difficulty of carrying and delivering a baby?"

Pete nodded. "It's not like I have a lot else to do during my days." He sounded a little bitter over his life situation.

"Why don't you tell me how you're living right now?" Rachel prompted.

Pete's face showed a little surprise. He'd expected a discussion over whether he was accepted or not, not about himself and his living arrangements. "I guess I just live," he answered.

"Where? In a homeless shelter?"

"No. Most of those places are full of drugs and alcohol. And hookers — both straight and gay." He shuddered involuntarily as he spoke, obviously repulsed by the thought that he might end up like them — an addicted prostitute. "I built myself a little hut in the woods, by Mayfield Park." He smiled, but even his proud smile was overshadowed by his caution. "It's pretty well hidden. If you didn't know what it was, you could walk right past it and never see."

Rachel's eyes widened at his revelation. "How ...?" She was too befuddled to speak for a moment. "If you don't mind my saying so, you don't exactly come across as someone who's lived in a hut in the woods for two years."

"I did my best," Pete said. He wasn't going to give up any secrets if he didn't have to.

"How about your hygiene and diet? Those had to be challenges, but you don't seem to have any problems in those areas."

"I ... guess I learned to take care of myself," Pete started to explain, again, giving no specifics.

Rachel cut him off. "I want to see where you've been living," she said firmly.

Pete's eyes widened. "Uh," he stammered, uncomfortable with the request, "it's kind of private."

Rachel saw the warning flash in his eyes. It was more than private — it had been his refuge for over two years. "We do this my way. We take a field trip to your 'home', or I won't accept you in the program." She saw Pete's eyes widen as he considered her demand. "Just so you know, you're under medical and psychological care right now. There are very specific laws that prevent us from sharing any of this information with anyone else. If I were to tell anyone any of this medical information, I could lose my license, be fined, or even go to jail." She saw him processing the information. "Now, shall we take a field trip to see your home?"

"But ... what if ...?" Pete didn't want to show anyone his secret hideaway.

"Pete," Rachel interrupted him, "We're going to go see your home." She read the lack of trust in his eyes, in his posture. She could almost see the gears turning as he considered her request. Based on the lack of trust highlighted in his psych profile, she expected that he'd refuse, and leave. As seconds passed, agonizingly slowly, she considered that there were other factors at work in his life.

"Okay," Pete finally said reluctantly.

**********

Pete hadn't been joking about how well-hidden the hut was; Rachel walked right past the hut before she realized that Pete had stopped by one of several piles of logs and debris. She turned, and saw him grin and disappear into the pile.

Nervously, Rachel followed him, and found herself standing in the entrance of his shelter. She could barely see anything; it was very dark inside. She carefully stepped into the hut, ducking to avoid hitting her head on the low ceiling.

It took a few seconds, but her eyes adjusted to the dim light. Her jaw dropped as she looked around. On one side of the shelter was a crude, home-made bedframe, constructed from logs, on which sat a mattress with a couple of what appeared to be wool blankets piled haphazardly on one end.

"This ... is where you live?" Rachel asked, astonished. "How do you keep dry in the rain?"

Pete sat down on the edge of the bed. "I found some plastic sheeting at a construction site, so I used it to line the roof. It doesn't leak at all."

"How about heat? How do you stay warm?" She sat down next to Pete to avoid getting a crick in her neck from stooping.

"There's a lot of brush on top, and it's good insulation," Pete replied. "Except on the coldest nights, it's comfortable."

Rachel noted a couple of plastic bags in one corner. "What's that?"

Pete shrugged. "I keep my clothes in the bags, just to keep stuff out of them."

"Where do you get your clothes?"

Pete looked down, feeling slightly ashamed. "I ... get things from the goodwill donation boxes," he admitted, sounding guilty at admitting his petty theft. "They're for poor and homeless people, anyway, and I qualify!" he added defensively.

He reached under the bed and pulled out an old can and some type of tool. In a few seconds, he had a candle in the can lit, adding some faint light to the inside, punctuated by the dancing shadows as the flame flickered.

Rachel glanced around again. She was a little nervous sitting on the bed. Who knew what kind of ... things ... were living in or on the bed. "Your clothes look pretty clean. Not quite what I expected."

"What did you expect?" Pete asked, a tinge of anger in his voice at her implication.

"To be honest, when you said you lived in a hut, I imagined a frontiersman, with dirty clothes and a very primitive existence. This is a lot different from what I pictured. How do you keep clean?"

"I wash my clothes every week," Pete answered. He wasn't happy with having to show Rachel his refuge, nor having to explain to her his secrets of living.

"How?"

"I slip into a shelter — usually during the day when there aren't many people around — and do my laundry there. And I found out how to make bleach from pool chemicals, so I sterilize things," he glanced specifically at the bed they were sitting on, "every couple of weeks." He looked down. "I had to ... borrow ... the pool chemicals. But it only takes a little bit," he added, once again justifying the theft.

"How about your personal hygiene?" Rachel asked.

"The same as the laundry. I sneak into the shelter, or sometimes a gym or the Y, and use their showers." He saw the frown on Rachel's face. "I have to ... borrow ... soap so I can clean myself."

"Where did you learn to do all of this?" Rachel asked, curious. She was curious at his apparent ingenuity, but also more than a little alarmed at how he was living.

Pete shrugged. "I spend a lot of time in the library reading. And one of my old friends was in Scouts, and he gave me some books."

It was Rachel's turn to show surprise. The boy was a lot cleverer than she'd have thought. In hindsight, she realized, he had to be in order to have lived for over two years without a home — or family. "How do you eat?"

Pete shrugged. "I'll show you," he said, blowing out the candle and sliding the can back under his bed. Rachel followed him a bit away from the hut. "Here," Pete said, stopping by what appeared to be the same vegetation as around the hut. He saw her confusion. "I've planted some potatoes and carrots, and those bushes," he pointed, "are raspberries and blackberries."

"A garden doesn't supply food year-round," Rachel observed. "What do you do then?"

"I've got a few snares for rabbits and small game," Pete stated. "But sometimes, I have to ... get some food from donation boxes."

"You _stole_ food?"

Pete nodded, looking down. "It's for poor and needy people! And sometimes, I have to dumpster-dive." He shook his head. "That gets dangerous, and sometimes the food is spoiled."

"Let's go back to my office," Rachel suggested. On their drive to the park, Pete had noted that some marijuana growers had used this wooded area to grow some pot plants, and they weren't exactly friendly with people poking around. She wanted to leave before they encountered the growers.

**********

"Why all the questions about me? Aren't you going to tell me about the job?" Pete asked. His frustration and impatience was clearly on display as he plopped down on the couch in Rachel's office.

Rachel smiled. "You'll have to learn some patience. We'll get around to that." She picked a notepad off her desk and sat in one of the stuffed chairs near the couch.

"Still trying to figure out what makes me tick, so you can decide if I'm acceptable to your program or not, right?" He sounded bitter.

This time, Rachel didn't underestimate his intelligence. "That's a pretty good way to put it. "And you never thought of going back home?" Rachel queried, trying to sound merely curious.

"No!" Pete snapped angrily, his emotions having changed instantly at the thought of going home. "They never wanted me. They hate me, and I hate them. I won’t ever go back there."

Rachel scribbled on a notepad. "You're a pretty determined young man, aren't you? There had to be times when it was really rough."

"Not as rough as living with them," Pete countered fiercely.

"Why don't you tell me a little more about the emotional abuse you suffered? It must have been pretty bad to make you run away."

"They didn't want me. My older brother and younger sister got everything, and I got nothing. They always found a way to blame me for trouble they'd caused, and my parents believed them. I always got punished for things I never did." His nostrils were flaring, his jaw was clenched, and his eyes burned with anger. "Isn't that enough?"

"Were you ever physically abused?" Rachel asked, trying to get a little more understanding.

"You mean, like being belted until I was blistered and couldn't sit, because of something my brother or sister did and blamed me for? If that’s what you mean," Pete said angrily, "then yeah, there was physical abuse."

Rachel grimaced inwardly; to Pete, she kept a neutral expression. If that type of thing had been common, it was no wonder Pete had run away. "I hope we'll have more time to talk about these things. It's not healthy to carry around the hurt, to have it bottled up inside you."

Pete took a few slow, deep breaths as he considered Rachel's words. "Does that mean you're going to accept me in the program?" Pete asked warily.

Rachel winced. This one, she couldn't hide from Pete. "To be honest, I'm worried about you. You ran away from home. You've been living in, to be frank, extremely primitive conditions. You're holding on to a lot of anger. I'm not confident that you can stick with it. It's going to be rough. But your resourcefulness and determination speak a lot about your intelligence and commitment. The fact that you've kept ... moderately ... nourished and clean for over two years, while living in the conditions you were, is impressive. That's in your favor."

"It can't be any worse than what I've been through," Pete said with grim determination. "If cold and hunger and loneliness couldn't make me give in and go home for the past two years, don't you think I can stick to a few months of your program?" He sat back. "So, are you going to give me a job?"

"Let me be blunt," Rachel said, putting down her pencil. "I'm appalled at your living conditions. For the job we have, it's unacceptable. If, and I say again, _if_ we accept you, then one condition will be that you must move immediately into an apartment. There are no two ways about that one. You'll be getting paycheck, so renting an apartment won't be a hardship."

"But ... how would I cash the checks?" Pete asked, suddenly alarmed. "I ... don’t' have a bank account. And I don't want _them_ to know what I'm doing, or where I'm at!"

"We can take care of that," Rachel said confidently. She gazed at the young man. "I've got one more question. You've been living — primitively, I'll admit — for over two and a half years without having a job. I'm curious why you're looking for help now."

Pete looked down at his knees. "I'm out of options," he admitted softly.

"What do you mean, out of options?"

"There are too many homeless people, mostly bigger and meaner than me, who compete for food and shelter and stuff." It was difficult for him to admit that his small physical stature was a limitation. "I learned that a good knife is the key to wilderness survival, so one of the few things I bought was a good knife." He shook his head sadly. "I ... broke it. And I've only got about a dollar and a half left, so I can't buy another one."

"But you admitted stealing other supplies," Rachel pointed out.

Pete glared at her. "Those things were meant for needy people." He looked down again, shaking his head. "I ... couldn't make myself steal things. Not like a knife or candles or salt or things like that. Besides, if I got caught shoplifting, the police would take me ... back _there_!"

"What options _do_ you have?" Rachel was curious about how his mind worked on complex problems like he was facing.

"Go home." He snorted derisively. "That's not an option. Go to work like Vern — he's a guy I know who's a hooker for Luis." He sighed. "Steal things. Or get a job. I've tried other places to work, including day laborers." He shook his head. "I'm not big enough or strong enough for most of those jobs. So that leaves finding a job where my size isn't a problem."

"Like here." She noted, with more than a little relief, that his list of options hadn't included suicide.

"Yeah."

**********

Tina poked her head into Rachel's office. "You want to see me, boss?"

Rachel nodded her head. "But would you please stop calling me 'boss'?" She sighed. "How many times have I told you about that?"

"Sorry, boss," Tina giggled. She saw Rachel's expression. "What's up?"

"I need you to do a little more thorough screening of Pete Franklin." She leaned back in her desk chair, resting her head against the high back. "I saw where he lived, and it wasn't pretty."

"How so?"

"You remember learning about the mountain men in high school history? The men who lived in small cabins and tents for months at a time?"

Tina's eyes widened at Rachel's implication. "You aren't saying ...."

Rachel nodded. "He's been living in a tiny home-made hut in the woods behind Mayfield Park." She gave Tina a quick summary of what she'd learned from her trip with Pete. "Despite the fact that he's been taking pretty good care of cleanliness and hygiene, I need to you to do a more thorough screening. Parasites, tick-borne diseases, and all that."

Tina winced at what she'd heard. "Makes sense. I can think of a couple of other things to test for, too."

"I sent him with Beth down to an exam room."

Tina frowned. "You seem to be in a hurry about his case, though," she thought aloud.

"Yeah, I guess so," Rachel agreed with a sigh. "I guess I was starting to plan on him for a baby in a few months. You know how hectic the scheduling can get sometimes."

"No, and I'm glad that it's your problem and not mine. Anything else?"

"No."

"Okay. I'll go get some more tests done." Tina turned away from the doorway to Rachel's office and strode purposefully down the hall toward the medical wing of the clinic. She forced herself to smile before she walked into the room where Pete was waiting. "Good morning," she said cheerfully.

Pete looked at her warily. "I guess." He read Tina's expression, and frowned. "She told you."

Tina nodded. "And with good cause. Do you know what you could have caught living like she described?" She didn't wait for an answer. "There are a number of mosquito-borne diseases, such as West Nile and St. Louis encephalitis," she began, "to say nothing of tick-borne diseases like Lyme disease and Rocky Mountain spotted fever. You could have gotten lice or worms, which could give you diseases like trichinosis, or typus. From unsanitary water supplies, you could have gotten cyclosporidia, giardia, typhoid fever, cholera, dysentery, or any of a whole bunch of diseases." Tina shook her head. "If you don't have anything, you're _damned_ lucky!"

"I followed the instructions in the manuals," Pete countered gruffly. He didn't appreciate the implications of what Tina — or Rachel — were saying about how he'd survived.

"What manual?" Tina was perplexed by his cockiness.

"The Army survival manual," Pete said, as if the answer should have been obvious.

Tina frowned at his answer. "It looks like you learned something from them. Let's get some blood samples. Then I'm going to need to get a stool sample." She saw his eyes widen.

**********

Operation Rescue - In Plain Sight - Chapter 2
(to be continued)

A young man, feeling totally unwanted by his family, runs away. He needs to find a way to survive, and eventually, he stumbles into an Op Rescue clinic.
Pete completes his surgery, and then has to start learning to not live in fear, while the staff has to work with Pete to understand what really motivates him, and what his fears are. A new friendship seems to be developing.
(Counting the prologue, this is part 3 of 8)

Note - for some reason, the Prologue isn't showing up on the story list. If you go to my stories under the authors tab, you'll be able to find the prologue. I suggest you read it if you haven't; it sets the stage for Pete's feelings of rejection and his running away.

Operation Rescue: In Plain Sight - Prologue
Operation Rescue: In Plain Sight - Chapter 1

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This story is copyright by the author. It is protected by licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

"Okay, here's the score," Rachel said tersely to Pete. She stood, leaning against her desk, in a posture designed to enhance her authority, while Pete sat on the sofa and Beth in one of the chairs. "It'll take a little time to find an apartment, especially with the housing market these days, so until your surgery, I've got you in an extended-stay hotel just down the street. We have a few suites reserved, so you'll be in one of those."

"Um," Pete stammered, "how do I pay for that?"

Rachel smiled. "First of all, you're going to be on a salary once we start your surgical ... adaptations. Second, until then, the hotel is just part of our overhead. We have to have some rooms always ready in case clients from other cities are in town, or if we have people from the corporate offices visiting. So we just permanently booked a few rooms. You'll be in one of those as our guest for now." She noticed that Pete was fidgeting, and had an uncomfortable expression. "I take it you don't like that?"

"Um, no, it's pretty generous," Pete quickly replied, "but ...."

Rachel laughed at his discomfort. "You don't want to take anything that would make you feel obligated toward someone, right?"

"Uh, not really." The wary edginess in Pete's voice was back — in spades.

"And I'd bet that you feel owing someone gives them a degree of control over you, which you really dislike, right?"

"Yeah," Pete admitted, staring defiantly at Rachel as if he was daring her to try to tell him why he _shouldn't_ feel so untrusting.

"Think if it this way — when you signed the contract, you became part of our team. It's not you against us. We're all a team. We're all working for your success. But just like any other team," she added in a cautionary tone, "you have obligations to the team."

Pete looked at her, searching her expression for some hint of an underlying meaning, a hidden agenda. But he saw none. "Okay." He didn't sound convinced.

Because you don't have anyone to take care of you, while you're recovering from surgery, you'll be staying in our hospital wing, where the nurses," she pointedly glanced at Beth, "can take care of you. Once you've recovered and can do light lifting, you can move to an apartment."

"Okay."

"There are a few nice apartments within a few blocks of the clinic," Beth added helpfully.

"But ... I don't have a car. I don't have a bus pass. I can't get around except for walking," Pete protested.

"Since I've got a car, and I'm on late shift this week, I'll help you look," Beth reassured him, earning herself a warning glance from Rachel.

"You're also going to have to set up a bank account, so you have a place to deposit your checks and save your money," Rachel continued. She saw the alarm on Pete's face.

"I don't want any records," Pete said. His voice sounded as frightened as his expression showed. "I don't want _them_ to find me!"

"With the privacy laws that exist today, your bank account, and identity, are secure. No one is going to be told where you are or where you do your banking." Rachel knew that they were going to have a lot of work with Pete to get him through his paranoid fear of his family. It was unhealthy to be living with as much fear as he was.

**********

Beth held Pete's hand as he lay on the gurney in the pre-op ward. "It'll be okay. I'll be with you through the whole thing."

Pete's emotional barriers were slowly falling - _very_ slowly. He'd been seeing Rachel or another counselor three times a week for the past month, while his new parts grew. He'd also seen Beth at the ongoing tests that Tina had been putting him through. Over that time, he'd become a _little_ less distrustful. "Thanks," he said simply. He wanted desperately to harden his feelings, and to push these people away before they got close enough that they could hurt him, too, but something about Beth prevented that. It was like there was an aura of compassion and kindness around her that Pete had never experienced before, something that he was drawn to like he needed it.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Pete whispered nervously. "It's almost unreal."

"I think you'll find this life-changing," Beth said reassuringly.

"No kidding." He looked at Beth. "Rachel ... didn't want me in the program, did she?"

Beth was startled by his question. "Uh," she stammered, trying to buy time to figure out how to answer without hurting him. She decided on honesty. "No, she was worried. She has to worry about the baby's life that she's entrusting to you."

"I kind of figured as much."

"Do _you_ think you can do it?" Beth asked frankly.

"Yeah," Pete answered. "If you can promise me that you'll never let _them_ know."

"Rachel already promised you."

Pete nodded. He'd heard it from Rachel, but for some reason he was longing to hear it from Beth.

Beth fought an inner struggle against her sympathy for the boy. She couldn't become involved emotionally, she reminded herself. Rachel was right. It was a losing battle. "I promise," she said softly.

Pete smiled, a tiny expression of gratitude, and the first Beth had seen on the boy. "Okay."

"That's a good, positive attitude." She squeezed his hand. "Are you nervous?"

"Yeah," Pete squeaked.

"Now, I'm going to administer some medicine in your IV line. This will make you sleepy, and it'll take away any pain that you have."

"Okay." He gulped nervously. He was trembling at giving up — completely — his sense of control. While he was in the hospital, they could do _anything_ to him that they wanted.

"You've never had surgery, have you?"

"No."

"I've been assigned to help you, so I'll be in the operating room with you, and then I'll be with you in the recovery room. The whole team will be watching out for you," Beth reassured him. "Everything will be okay." She picked up a syringe and injected its contents into the IV line. She repeated it with a second syringe, and then a third. "You'll be getting very sleepy in a minute or two. Just relax. You'll be okay."

Pete nodded. The drugs were already starting to affect the young man.

**********

Rachel peeked into the room, and saw Pete lying on the bed, propped up and watching television. "Good morning," she said cheerfully as she strode to his bedside. "How are you doing today?"

Pete turned his head and shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Mostly, I'm bored.

"Bored? Rachel was surprised at his reaction. He had far more entertainment opportunities in the hospital room than he could have possibly had in his hut. TV, movies, computer, e-book reader — it was all available to him.

"Yeah," Pete confirmed. "Bored. As in, lying on my back for three weeks, not able to even get out of bed to go to the bathroom for the first two weeks."

"I suppose you _would_ feel cooped up, given how much you were outside before."

"You think?" Pete asked sarcastically.

Rachel gave him a scolding look. "I thought we were past that."

Pete looked down to his lap. "Sorry."

""We're working on your trust issues, right? If anyone is doing something that makes you feel awkward, please let me know. We want you to feel safe with us."

Pete didn't look up. "I know. But it's hard sometimes. Especially when I have to depend on someone else for everything, like bathing."

"You have fewer restrictions than right after surgery, so hopefully, you don't feel so vulnerable."

"Yeah, I guess."

Rachel noticed that he was fidgety. "You look like you're uncomfortable."

"I'm still not used to a bed, if that's what you're saying," Pete snorted. . "And things feel — different, even with the pain killers."

Rachel laughed. "Sorry about the mattress being too soft, but most of our patients prefer soft instead of hard beds. "Now, since I'm here, do you want to talk with me about your physical changes, or would you prefer to talk with a doctor or nurse?"

Pete shook his head, still avoiding Rachel's gaze. "A doctor, I think. Or maybe ... Beth."

Rachel's eyebrows shot up. "Beth?" She was shocked that he was displaying even a modicum of trust toward someone. She'd expected that to take much longer to develop in the boy. Then again, he'd been Beth's sole responsibility for the first two critical weeks of healing, and he'd been one of Beth's patients since that time. Somehow, in the times she'd spent with him, he'd connected with her.

Pete nodded. "She's ... nice. I like talking to her." His answer was soft, like he was afraid to admit that he wanted Beth's company.

"It seems to me that when you're talking to Beth, you're not afraid."

Pete looked at her for a few seconds, mulling over her words. "I guess," he answered, unwilling to say anything that might sound like he was committing emotionally to anyone.

Rachel pulled a chair to his bedside and sat down. "Do you want to talk about why you're so afraid of personal relationships?"

Pete looked down, studying the curves so prominent beneath his thin cotton pajama top. "I ... don't like people hurting me," he admitted in a hushed voice.

"Nobody likes being hurt," Rachel reassured him. "Very often, we hurt each other accidentally, without meaning to."

"All the things they did to me weren't accidents." Pete's voice was firm and angry again.

"Why don't you tell me some of what you went through?" She saw Pete's stubborn look. "We're going to talk about it sooner or later. It wouldn't hurt to start now."

"I'd rather not," he answered firmly.

"You've gone through a lot of trouble to hide from your family," Rachel observed. She saw the stubborn expression on his face. "Pete, you're going to have to learn to trust us. We haven't hurt you, nor would we." His face softened a bit as he considered her words. "You endured a lot of hardship to avoid them.”

"Wouldn't you?" he asked sarcastically.

"I don't know. It _wasn't_ me." She saw Pete's startled reaction to her frank admission. He'd probably expected her to tell him how he _should_ have handled things. "What is it you want from the program? Really, down inside, what do you want? I know it's more than a paycheck."

Pete stared at her for a few seconds, and then he looked down again. "I ... I don't know."

"You're eighteen. No one can _make_ you go back. I've told you that before. You shouldn't have to be afraid of being forced back to that situation. I doubt that your family is the same, anyway."

"They didn't change. I know it." There was no doubt in his mind, just iron conviction that he was right.

"How do you think your disappearance affected them? Do you suppose that, maybe, they were worried and hurt, and afraid that something awful had happened to you?"

Pete shook his head firmly. "No. They wouldn't worry about me like that. I didn't matter. The way they treated me — it was clear that they didn't want me! They _said_ they didn't want me!"

"Okay. We'll talk more as you continue through the program," Rachel said. She didn’t want to agitate the boy too much. She'd seen the missing child posters and ads on the Internet; she knew that his parents _had_ worried greatly about him. But the hurt they'd caused him over many years had convinced him otherwise, since he'd probably never seen the ads. If he had seen them, he probably hadn't believed them. "But you _are_ afraid of them finding you, aren't you?"

Pete looked away, concealing his angry expression. "I don't want to _ever_ see them again."

"You can't spend your whole life hiding from your fears. If you try, your fears will rule you."

"That sounds like ... psychobabble." Once more, he displayed skepticism and distrust.

Rachel laughed. "Maybe, but it's true. Tell me, how much does your fear of bumping into your family rule your life?" She read the answer in his expression. "Suzie told me how you seemed afraid that someone might see you or recognize you when you're in the reception area." He nodded affirmatively. "Over the next few months, you and I are going to have a lot of talks about that." Rachel noted the puzzled look on his face. "Pregnancy is stressful enough without feeling fear of your family. I hope we can help you get past your fears so you can move forward living _your_ life the way _you_ want, without always looking over your shoulder in fear."

**********

Pete heard a noise, and he glanced toward the door. Beth's smiling face peeked into the room. He wondered why she was always so cheerful.

"Hi," Beth said warmly. "How are you doing today?"

"Okay," Pete answered. "I thought you had today off." He wasn't quite as wary, or edgy, as he'd been in the past, at least not with Beth.

Beth realized that Pete was uneasy with unexpected things. "I do," she answered, pulling up a chair to sit beside his bed. "I just thought I'd stop by to see how my favorite patient is doing."

Pete tried to shrug off her friendly words. "I guess okay. Except," he added, glancing down at his chest, "I'm not sure I like these. They're starting to feel ... uncomfortable."

Beth chuckled. "Every girl remembers how her breasts were sensitive as they grew."

"I suppose."

"Tina _did_ tell you that they're going to get bigger and heavier, didn't she?"

"Yeah." Pete seemed upset, and at the same time resigned.

As your body develops, which it will, your breasts will get larger and rounder."

"How ... how big will they get?" Pete's eyes were wide with unease.

"That depends on your genes," Beth answered.

"Are they going to get, you know, heavy and jiggly?" Pete asked. He sounded uneasy at the prospect of growing breasts, especially large ones.

"Maybe. They might be nice small breasts, or they could be monsters," Beth said with a smile. She was a little stout, with very large breasts, so she knew what she was talking about. "Right now, with them just starting to grow, you don't really need a bra. That'll change, and you'll find that a good-fitting bra is your best friend. You may want to consider getting a training bra to start getting used to it."

"A ... training bra?" Pete was shocked.

"It's up to you, but if I were you, I'd seriously consider it."

"My hair is growing really fast." Pete changed the subject.

Beth smiled. "And the rest of your body is healing and adjusting just as fast. You're getting some special medications that make your body heal very rapidly so it gets used to the hormones your new female parts are making. It's like you're going through puberty again, but in a few weeks instead of years. That's why you're so hungry all the time, too."

"Oh." Pete looked toward the television, but his eyes were unfocused. After a few seconds, he turned back to Beth. "Do you think I'm a coward?"

"No," Beth answered quickly, startled by his question. "Why would I think that?"

"Rachel does," Pete said with certainty. "She hasn't said it, but I know she thinks I'm too scared of going home."

"Are you?" Beth decided a simple question was better than saying something that sounded judgmental.

Pete looked back toward the wall. "I ... " He sighed and closed his eyes. "Maybe I am," he finally said softly.

"Honey," Beth put her hand tenderly on his arm, "sometimes, family can hurt us the worst of all. You're not a coward from wanting to get away from the pain. It's called survival."

Pete turned quickly toward her, and when he saw her sympathetic, motherly expression, tears welled up in his eyes and started rolling down his cheeks.

Beth knew what this emotionally-wounded boy needed. She moved to the edge of his bed, sitting down and wrapped her arms around him. Years of damming his emotions burst at her tender gesture, and he buried his head on Beth's shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably.

Not quite half an hour later, Beth eased a sleeping boy back onto the bed. The rapid-heal medications were making him tired, and a lengthy emotional release added to his fatigue. She pulled the blanket gently up over his chest, and then sat for a moment looking at the peacefully-sleeping boy.

She suddenly felt like she was being watched, and turned her head toward the door. She saw Rachel standing in the doorway, impassively watching her. Rachel beckoned her. Silently so as not to wake Pete, Beth crept from the room, following Rachel down the hall.

Rachel closed the conference room door behind Beth, and gestured for her to sit.

"I know," Beth said, shaking her head. "We aren't supposed to get involved."

Rachel laughed. "I _did_ say that, didn't I?" She paused, trying to compose her thoughts. "I have a request," she finally said.

"I know," Beth said, her voice heavy. "Back off."

Rachel laughed again. "Actually, I was going to ask you to do the opposite." She saw Beth's eyes widen as the request sank in. "He trusts you," Rachel continued. "He trusts you in a way that he doesn't trust anyone else here. I need you to maintain that trust."

"You want me to spy on him?" Beth asked warily.

Rachel shook her head. "No. I want you to be his friend."

Beth was startled by the request. "I guess this will make _my_ request a little easier, then."

Rachel frowned. "And that would be ...?"

"I was going to take Pete out looking for apartments tomorrow, but if you agree, I'd like to ask him to move in with me — at least for a little while."

It was Rachel's turn to be surprised. "Uh, ...." she stammered, not quite sure how to respond to Beth's highly unusual request.

"You said that he trusts me, and he _needs_ someone to trust right now. It'll make it easier to help him feel safe, and I'll be there to watch over him and to get him to and from the clinic. I think it's the best thing we could do for him right now."

"You're a lousy salesperson," Rachel chuckled. "To be honest, I'd actually considered whether I should ask you if you'd be willing to help him out more." She nodded, smiling. "I think that'll be a good solution for him. For both of you, actually." Rachel wasn't saying it in so many words, but she knew how much Beth was still hurting.

**********

"Are you sure about this?" Beth asked as she pulled her car into a parking spot next to her apartment building. "You don't have to do this just because I asked."

Pete's eyes narrowed. "You don't want me, do you?"

"Oh, no!" Beth answered quickly. "That's not it at all! I'm very happy to have you stay with me! I want you to stay because it's what _you_ want."

"Did Rachel put you up to this?" Pete asked suspiciously.

"No," Beth answered honestly. "I suggested it to her."

"Why?"

"Because I like you. You remind me of someone. Someone very special." Beth's voice trailed off as memories overtook her. She shook off the momentary sadness. "Let's get you moved in."

Pete snorted. "Hmmph. It's not like I have a lot to move."

"True. We'll have to go shopping later this afternoon — after you've rested a bit. Remember, Tina said very explicitly that you're supposed to take it easy."

When Pete turned automatically to climb the stairs, Beth stopped him. "No, no. You're supposed to take it easy, and that includes taking an elevator if there's one available." She was carrying the small bag of his meager possessions.

Inside the apartment, Pete paused and looked around. It seemed so spacious and very tastefully decorated and furnished. "Wow!" he couldn't help but say.

"Wow? This tiny place?" Beth joked. "Your room is over here." She led him down a short hallway, past a bathroom, into a bedroom.

Pete stopped in the hall, looking at a few pictures on the wall. "Who's he?" he asked curiously.

"That's ... Michael," Beth said, her eyes starting to water as her voice choked. "He's ... my son."

"What's he doing now?" Pete asked.

"He's ... he's ...." Beth turned away, fighting tears. "He ... died in an accident," she sobbed.

"Oh." Pete felt suddenly guilty for having brought painful memories to Beth. It wasn't a feeling he was familiar with. He also knew that he should offer some kind of comfort to Beth, the same way she'd comforted him, but he didn't know how.

"He was coming home from college one night," Beth said softly, moving to take the picture from Pete's hand and stare at it lovingly. "He was riding his motorcycle. He _loved_ that motorcycle, but I hated it." She shook her head slowly. "A truck had a blowout and sent a big piece of its tire right in front of him. There was no way .... He ...." She wiped her eyes, her voice choked with emotion, unable to continue speaking.

Pete stood for a moment, knowing that he'd accidentally hurt Beth. "I'm ... I'm sorry," he said slowly, his voice whisper-quiet, as if he didn't quite know how to say the words.

"You didn't know," Beth said quickly. She turned and led Pete to a bedroom.

Pete stared, open-mouthed, gazing around the room. "Is this all ... for me?" He asked in awe.

"You spent four weeks in a bigger room in the hotel while your parts grew," Beth reminded him.

"Yeah, but that was a hotel. I expected it. But this?"

"And three weeks in the hospital during recovery from your surgery."

Pete started to answer, but stopped himself.

"How big was your hut?" Beth asked, her curiosity piqued by his reaction and very glad to change the subject from her deceased son. It had only been a year, and she was still grieving his loss.

"A little more than twice as big as that," Pete answered, pointing to the full-sized bed.

Beth's jaw dropped in shock at his revelation. She'd seen tents bigger than what he'd indicated. "Is that why you spent a lot of time at the library?"

Pete nodded. "Yeah. But sometimes, that wasn't safe."

"Since you don't have much to wear now, how about if we go find you some clothes? You're going to need something more than what you're wearing. Look at that shirt! It barely fits you now!"

Pete glanced down, to a shirt that was starting to be stretched by his budding breasts. "Um, yeah," he said. "How am I going to pay for new clothes?" he asked.

Beth smiled. "You get a clothing allowance with your contract," she reminded him. "But you're going to find that, with women's clothing, money won't go far unless you control yourself."

"Women's clothing?" Pete said. "I ... hadn't thought of that. Can't I just wear ... men's clothes?"

"You _could_, but it'd look baggy and rumpled," Beth chuckled, "especially when _those_ things grow, you know." She glanced up and down his figure. "We'll get something simple, like jeans and a couple of simple blouses or T-shirts, so it's not too big a change."

"Can you help me...?" Pete looked down, blushing.

"Yes," Beth picked up on his thoughts. "You'll need new underwear, too." She stared at the boy. His request was unlike what most male clients made. "You _want_ to get something girly, don't you?" she asked, amazed.

"I've been thinking a lot while I was in the hospital," Pete answered slowly. "I ... want to change how I look."

"I think I understand. Is that why you had the chemical treatment to remove your facial hair, too?" Beth asked.

Pete blushed, both embarrassed at what he'd asked for, and upset that Beth had guessed his motives. "I hate shaving, and my beard is patchy and looks like crap. It just ... saves time." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than convince Beth.

"Okay, Pete," Beth began.

"Paige," Pete retorted firmly. "If I'm going to be a girl for this, I want to be called Paige."

"Why Paige?" Beth's eyes were wide with surprise at his insistence on using a girl's name.

"When I was little, my best friend was named Paige," Pete answered in a voice that, for the first time Beth knew, sounded happy about childhood memories. Pete knew he'd just crossed a line. He was no longer Pete, at least not in his mind. She was Paige, someone trying to start over. It was a very drastic step, but one she _knew_ she needed to take.

"Okay, Paige." Beth realized that he'd selected a name that couldn't be taken for a variation of Peter, such as Petra. She thought for a moment. "Do you want to do a whole makeover?" she asked. "Hair, clothes, nails, makeup — the works?"

Paige's expression showed how conflicted she was. "Um," she stammered, "I ... I don't know."

"If you get a full makeover, no one would recognize you," Beth ventured. She saw the new girl's hesitancy.

Paige nodded slowly. "I ... I think I want to do that. Yes."

"It's going to be pretty drastic," Beth cautioned. "We'll have your hair styled, and buy you some makeup, and maybe even get your ears pierced." She was struggling to restrain her enthusiasm; she'd always loved doing things with Michael, and in a way, by staying with her, Paige was sort-of like a child to her.

Paige nodded. The prospect of a good disguise that would take away some of her perpetual fear was appealing. "Yeah," she agreed. "That sounds ... good."

********

The first stop was the salon in the mall to get Paige's hair done. Since she'd been taking the rapid-heal medications at the clinic, her hair had grown considerably from the already-long hair Pete had when he'd first come in. The stylist took a look at Paige, and then began to look through some hairstyles on the computer. She and Beth both said, "Ooh," when they came to one. Paige wasn't paying attention; she was nervously watching people walking by in the mall.

"I think that'll work nicely," the stylist said. "Of course, it'd work better if you had darker hair, maybe with some reddish highlights."

Beth glanced at Paige. "Well?" Paige shrugged. "Color and highlight, too," Beth said. "Make her look pretty."

Paige's eyebrows rose when Beth used the feminine pronoun, but she didn't say anything. But instead of reacting the way Beth had anticipated, her eyes suddenly widened. She recognized a look of fear on the girl's face. She turned her back toward the door and slid sideways so that Beth was between herself and the salon entrance. She'd seen something — or someone — that had spooked her. Beth put her hand gently on her arm to calm her. "They'll take good care of you. You'll feel like a different person when they get your hair done."

When Paige was finished, the stylist held up a mirror for her to see. She gawked at the reflection; she didn't look anything like she had when she'd come in. Her hair was now brown instead of sandy-blonde, and styled in a very feminine way. It was just above her shoulders, with a slight under-curl at the ends, and layered in a playful and sassy way. The front swept to one side, hiding a little of her face and giving a hint of daring to the look.

"It's very cute, Paige," Beth said from over her shoulder, acknowledging that her transformation was well underway. She leaned closer to whisper in her ear, "No one would think that you were once a boy named Pete."

Paige smiled, for she realized that she was becoming Paige, both in body and in spirit. She _had_ to complete the transformation, both for the contract, and to get some peace of mind, to finally not feel afraid and hunted. It was a major first step, and it felt good.

Before they were done at the salon, Paige had fake nails, with lustrous dark red enamel that complemented her hair, along with having with her ears pierced. She'd had her eyebrows plucked — painfully — to make her less masculine appearing. With every step of the transformation, Beth noticed that Paige was becoming less and less nervous.

After the salon, Beth went to a department store, where she helped Paige try on lingerie, slacks, jeans, and blouses. They visited the makeup counter, and Paige got her first lessons in using makeup. By the time they finished, Beth was carrying an armful of bags, and despite Paige's protests, she wouldn't let the girl carry anything.

It was almost dinnertime when they left the mall, so Beth stopped for some takeout Chinese food, and then went back to her apartment. "We'll put away your clothes after we eat," Beth announced as she carried the bags into Paige's room. Paige was wearing a very feminine pair of jeans and a lacy blouse that, with her curves, accentuated her femininity.

"I have to use the bathroom first," Paige said.

"Okay. I'll get the table set," Beth replied, walking to the kitchen. After she'd finished setting the table, she frowned; Paige hadn't come out of the bathroom. She walked toward the bathroom, but she saw the open door, she continued past it and to Paige's room.

Paige was standing in front of a mirror, turning and posing, taking in the changes to herself. Her eyes, framed with eyeliner and eye shadow, looked innocent and awestruck at her reflection.

Beth smiled. "Yes, that really is the new you."

"I ... I don't look like ...."

"No, you don't. You're a new person now, Paige. Now, I don't know about you, but I'm a bit hungry."

As expected, Paige was eating almost like she'd been starving. Beth knew that it was the rapid-heal drugs; she had to eat a lot to fuel the healing and changes her body was undergoing. That would wear off when she stopped taking the medications. "Have you thought about what you're going to do once you finish the contract?" she asked.

Paige shrugged. "I hadn't thought that far ahead."

You didn't finish high school, did you?" Beth asked to start a conversation.

"No," Paige answered.

"Well, since you'll have time on your hands, how about if we get you into some GED prep classes, so you can get a GED?"

"Why?" Paige sounded skeptical.

"If you have a GED," Beth answered, her voice calm and soothing, "you'll open up a lot of options to build your future. That _is_ what you want to do, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Paige answered softly. She had never thought of taking that next step to independence from her family, of equipping herself to get a real job so she could live in something besides a primitive hut. Until recently, the only option had been to survive.

"We'll have to get you a bus card, too, so you can get around, like to the clinic and to classes." She saw Paige flinch at the thought of being in public. "And I'll talk to Rachel about getting you an ID card with your new name. For our male clients, we help them with those little issues," she added by way of explanation. "Otherwise, it could get ... confusing."

"Okay." The new girl seemed almost reassured by Beth's explanation and plans for her. There was still an element of uncertainty which showed in her expression.

Beth knew exactly what Paige was thinking. "We can do things so the records are quite confidential. Our lawyers are well-connected, and as you can imagine, some of our clients in the past have wanted or needed confidentiality." She saw Paige's features relax as she grasped what Beth was telling her.

**********

Beth pulled the blanket up to tuck Paige into bed. She was sure the girl was already asleep; they'd had a long day shopping, and Paige was still healing. On top of that, after dinner, they'd watched a movie. It was enough to cause Paige to fall asleep on the sofa. Beth, knowing she wasn't strong enough to carry the girl to her bed, had gently awakened her and guided her to the bathroom and then to the bedroom. As she turned, the girl's eyes batted open. "Can you ... can you please stay?" Paige asked in a timid voice.

Beth smiled. "Of course, honey," she answered. She sat on the edge of the bed. "I would imagine that today has been a bit overwhelming to you, hasn't it?"

Paige nodded. "Yeah." She was wearing a girl's nightie — something that _she_ had insisted on purchasing while they'd been shopping.

"You're safe," Beth said while she gently stroked the teen girl's hair. "Just rest. You need all the rest you can get, so your body can finish healing. Then we'll let you spread your wings a bit, and get out of here so you don't feel all cooped up."

"Okay," Paige answered uncertainly.

"I noticed that you seemed frightened when we were in the salon," Beth said. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Paige's eyes widened when Beth mentioned the incident. She closed them and took a few deep breaths to steady herself. "I thought ... I thought I saw ... my ... _her_!," she said finally.

"Oh," Beth said. She understood immediately; Page was talking about having seen her mother. She heard the nervousness in her voice — no, she corrected herself, it was genuine fear. Something about her family had the boy — now girl — terrified. "Do you want to talk about anything?" She wished she'd had training in counseling in addition to her nursing degree.

"No," Paige said softly. Her eyes were drifting shut. In a few minutes, a peaceful expression returned to her face, and her breathing became slow and regular, as sleep claimed her for the night.

Beth carefully rose and padded softly to the door. She glanced back at the sleeping girl. She looked so sweet and innocent; it was hard to imagine the demons which tormented her. "I hope I can help you," Beth mouthed as she shut off the light.

**********

"I don't get it," Beth said, frustration in her voice. "She should be interested in what a GED would do for her future independence, but she doesn't seem to care." She was sitting in one of the chairs in Rachel's office, venting to her boss.

Suzie, seated on the sofa, had a sympathetic look. "What do you expect, Beth?" she asked. "Emotionally, Paige is still fifteen. She's grown physically, and mentally, but in terms of interacting with people and planning ahead — that development stopped when she ran away."

Beth shook her head. "That sounds like an excuse. She needs to stop making excuses and start thinking about her future."

Rachel smiled as she took a sip from her coffee cup. "That's asking a lot of her, isn't it? She doesn't trust a lot of people, and she's still afraid of her family. Would you want to be out in public a lot if it were you?"

"I guess not," Beth admitted reluctantly. "But she won't get a bus pass, and she refuses to do anything to work on her drivers' license." She sighed. "She needs to get out more, and I can't juggle my work and her schedule."

Suzie started to say that Beth knew what it was like before she agreed to take Paige in, but she stopped. The comment could be interpreted as a reminder of her son. She decided to change the subject. "Has she told you anything about growing up, or her family life?"

"She mentioned a couple of incidents. When she and her brother were young, they were building a fort in their back yard. One afternoon, the brother took out her dad's tools, and then didn't put them away. When her dad found out, her brother blamed her. Apparently, her dad lost his temper, interrupting a bath so he could belt her as punishment. Paige said that she couldn't sit down for a couple of hours afterwards."

Rachel's eyes widened in shock as Beth told the story. "Holy crap!" she said softly. "If that kind of child abuse was common, it's no wonder she doesn't want to go home! Children's Services should have intervened!" She shook her head. "I've met with her for six weeks since her surgery, and she hasn't told me anything like that."

Beth nodded her agreement. "Another time, her sister decided to make some cupcakes one afternoon when the parents were at a funeral. The sister made a big mess in the kitchen, and when the parents got home, she blamed Paige. Since Paige was the one who liked cooking and baking, her mom and dad believed the sister's story, and Paige got punished."

"Has she mentioned any happy memories?" Suzie asked.

"She did say that once, she was playing catch with her dad. Her brother was in bed, sick, and she got a little time. It sounded like she enjoyed that, until her sister came out and insisted that her dad spend time teaching her how to ride her bike."

"Let me guess," Rachel speculated, "Her dad quit playing catch and turned his attention to the sister."

Beth nodded grimly. "Yup. I'm sure she has some happy memories, but they're buried beneath a mountain of bitterness and hurt."

"She needs to open up more about these things with me, not you," Rachel complained.

"I know," Beth agreed. "I'm not a counselor like you and Suzie are. I don't know what I'm doing."

Suzie laughed lightly. "I haven't finished my degree quite yet," she countered. "But you don't need training. Just listen without being judgmental. Let her initiate the conversations, and be sympathetic to her."

"Give her time. She's already opening up more to you than to anyone else," Rachel added. "She trusts you. I don't think I need to tell you how important it is that you never do anything to violate that trust."

"I know," Beth agreed. "I was thinking about her schedule and her need to get out of the house," she said, changing the subject.

"And?" Rachel prompted.

"And, I was thinking — since Cindy is out on maternity leave for another three weeks, maybe Paige could use her office to hang out. It'd get her out of the house, so she won't get 'cabin fever', and she'd still be in a place that she considers safe."

Rachel nodded. "That sounds like a good idea. You said she likes to read?"

"She'd read non-stop if I didn't interrupt her to eat!" Beth chuckled. "I haven't gotten to use my Kindle since she moved in."

"The library has their catalog on-line," Suzie said, knowing exactly what Rachel was thinking. "You could get her to find some e-books she'd like, and then if _you_ checked them out, she'd have plenty to do."

"Or you could try to interest her in some on-line school work to try to catch up." Rachel added.

"I don't think I'll push the school work," Beth said. "You know she's a very headstrong girl."

"I'd have said stubborn," Suzie laughed.

"I'll have the IT group set up a temporary account for her. She should be able to use the computer by tomorrow, and if you can get some books ...."

Beth smiled. "It'll take her a couple of days to get through the books I downloaded last weekend." She shook her head. "She's a fast reader."

**********

Paige was intently studying the monitor, reading whatever she'd found on the web, when Rachel poked her head in the office. The girl was so focused that she didn't notice Rachel's intrusion.

"Are you busy?" Rachel asked, startling the girl.

Paige glanced quickly toward the door, where the sound had come from. "Uh," she said, feeling her heart race at the unexpected intrusion. "Not really."

"You don't mind if I come in for a bit, then?" Rachel asked, smiling warmly. She was being very careful to treat the 'borrowed' office as Paige's private space, even though it really was part of the clinic. She knew that the girl needed a sense of security and privacy.

Paige shrugged. "Nah." She spun the swivel chair she was sitting in, and then started to rise.

"No," Rachel quickly said, "go ahead and stay in your chair. This isn't a formal visit." She slid into a chair opposite the desk behind which Paige sat. In a way, it was a symbolic role reversal, giving Paige the 'power seat' behind the desk.

"What's up?" Paige asked suspiciously.

"Nothing, really. I just wanted to talk. How are things going?"

"Okay, I guess."

"What are you doing with your time?" Rachel asked. "Beth told me that you like to read."

"Yeah."

"Have you thought about the idea of getting a GED?"

"Not really. Beth already gave me the talk about how it would 'open up my future'."

"Okay." Rachel decided to change the subject; Paige was a little obstinate on that subject. "Are you comfortable at Beth's?"

"It's okay, I guess."

"I've noticed a couple of things about you," Rachel said, trying to elicit some type of response from the reticent girl.

"Yeah? Like what?"

"You still don't trust me enough to open up. You don't want to talk about what caused you pain." Rachel shook her head sadly. "I want to help you. I hope you know that. But I can't help you unless you trust me and talk honestly with me."

"Maybe I'd be able to trust people more if people that were supposed to love me didn't betray me so much!" Paige flared.

"Oh?"

Paige trembled with anger at the sudden memory. She turned away from Rachel, staring unseeingly at the computer monitor. "When I was twelve, I told _her_ that I was thinking about being a nurse," she said bitterly. "She laughed at me, and then told _him_. He got pissed and said that was a 'girl's job'. Then he told my teachers that he wanted them to help 'steer me' toward a more 'manly' career." Paige shook her head. "The other two got all their friends to make fun of me, calling me a sissy and everything." Her lip quivered with her anger.

"Is that why you're so afraid of seeing them? We've noticed that when you come in, you wait in the lounge instead of the lobby," Rachel commented. She was prodding, since Paige had opened up a little.

"I guess." Paige's breathing slowed, and her face relaxed a bit from her angry outburst.

"Beth says you don't get out much. Is it the same thing? You're afraid of being seen and recognized?"

"Wouldn’t you be?" Her tone was bitter once more. She turned back around toward Rachel. "They ruined my life!" After a moment, Paige's eyes narrowed. "Beth told you, didn't she?"

"No," Rachel answered quickly. She could tell that the girl was starting to get upset. "It's something that Suzie and I noticed. Whenever you're in the lobby, you're watching the door like you're afraid of someone coming in." It was time to change subjects. "If you're interested in a career in health care, Beth and the other staff probably have a lot of introductory books you can borrow. I've got some in my office, too. But you'll have to finish your GED before you can go to college for any kind of advanced education."

**********

Paige tossed the tablet computer toward the pillow at the end of the couch, and sighed in frustration. She glanced around the apartment before standing suddenly and walking to the refrigerator. Inside, she found nothing that appealed to her taste. Sighing once more, she slunk back to the couch, sat down heavily, grabbed the remote, and turned on the TV. After a couple of minutes flipping through the channels, she turned off the TV. She was bored — bored and frustrated at feeling cooped up. It was either the apartment or the office at the clinic, and it was getting old.

Part of the girl longed for the freedom she'd had living in the hut. It had been a hard life, and not comfortable or particularly clean, but she was in control. Now, she felt like a prisoner. The fact that it was _her_ doing didn't matter; she longed to get out.

Scooping up the tablet again, Paige began to read once more. She really liked the electronic book, compared to a heavy, clumsy, printed book. The tablet was much more comfortable to use, probably because it was closer to a typical teen's electronic gadgets. Unfortunately, she didn't always have access to e-books, and had to occasionally rely on the old-fashioned printed variety. She didn't like it, but he put up with it, because it was inexpensive entertainment.

After a few pages, the girl turned off the tablet and set it on the coffee table. For several long seconds, she stared out the window, before rising and padding barefooted across the living room to a desk, upon which sat Beth's computer. For a while, she tried to entertain herself by aimlessly wandering through the web, following links to wherever they'd take her, but she was bored of that game, too. As she debated going back to her room and curling up on the bed, to try to nap, she remembered what Beth had told her.

It only took one web search and a couple of clicks, and Paige had opened a site like Beth had mentioned. The site grabbed her attention, pulling her deeper and deeper into its grasp. She was so intent on the content of the site that she didn't even notice the sound of the door opening.

"How was your day?" Beth called as she kicked the door shut with her foot. Her arms were full, carrying bags of groceries.

"Huh?" Paige stammered as her reverie was broken. "Um, okay." Her answer was as generic as possible, considering that she hadn't even been paying attention.

Beth had noticed how absorbed Paige was with the computer. She put the grocery bags on the table. "Spaghetti for dinner?" she asked.

"Sure," Paige answered. She sounded like she wasn't happy at being interrupted, so Beth decided to shut up and just fix dinner.

After dinner, Paige stayed in the kitchen to put the dishes in the dishwasher. It was one of the things she did, by mutual agreement, to help with the chores. While the girl fretted over the sink, rinsing and cleaning the dishes and pans, Beth sat down at her computer. As soon as the screen went active, she noted that the web browser was running. Instead of just closing it, though, for some reason, she started reading. Beth's eyes widened as she realized that Paige had been working on an aptitude test at one of the GED preparation sites. Beth smiled to herself, minimized the browser window, and opened her e-mail. She figured it was best to not say anything first. If Paige wanted her to know, Paige would tell her. In the meantime, she knew that Paige was starting to look to the future instead of to her past. It was a good sign, one that she knew Rachel would approve of.

**********

Tina poked her head out of her office and looked toward the nurse's station. "Beth?" she called. "Can I see you for a moment?"

Beth glanced at her computer. "Mrs. Jorgenson is sleeping, so I can spare a few minutes." She glanced toward one of the other nurses. "Deb, can you watch for a couple of minutes?"

"Are you in trouble again?" Deb teased.

"No. Tina just needs my expert advice," Beth countered with a grin. She strode quickly to Tina's office and stood in the doorway. "What's up?" she asked.

Tina gestured for her to sit and to close the door. After Beth was seated, Tina continued. "I wanted your opinion of how Paige is doing."

"She seems to be doing well. How did her checkup this morning go?"

"Pretty well," Tina answered. "Her hormone levels look good, and she's completely healed and adjusted. I think she'll be ready for her transfer next cycle." She sighed. "She took two more cycles than I'd expected."

"How did she take _that_ news?" Beth asked.

"She looked pretty nervous," Tina admitted with a smile. "But then, all patients who started as males are at least nervous, if they're not scared stiff." She chuckled. "Remember how scared Tommi Sue was on her first transfer?"

"Not really. She was Deb's patient for her transfers. But I've seen it in other patients."

"Paige will do well. She's in great shape physically."

"But?"

Tina laughed. "We're too transparent, aren't we? Rachel and I are both concerned about her mental state. That's where you can help us."

"By spying."

"Not really spying, so much as helping us know what she doesn't talk about with us. For example, how has she handled her periods?"

"Not well," Beth admitted. "The first one was the worst for her. She had mild cramping and bloating, and she was really upset by the bleeding. That was her first realization that she's fully female. The last two haven't been so bad, but maybe that's because they weren't such a surprise."

"That sounds normal," Tina said. "Because he was malnourished, Pete was a little behind on his sexual development, and his hormones were very low. So I'm guessing that he didn't have strong sexuality. Now," she shrugged, "anything he _did_ have was taken away."

"Didn't she talk with you about it?" Beth asked.

Tina nodded. "She asked for technical details, but she wouldn't talk about her feelings." She shook her head. "She's pretty shy around most people."

"Yeah, we've all noticed."

"Maybe," Tina speculated, "it would help her if you were with her at her next checkup."

"You're acting almost like I'm her mother," Beth said warily. "You and Rachel..."

**********

Paige frowned as she squirmed in her chair. Something was bothering her, and she couldn't hide her discomfort.

"What's wrong?" Beth asked when she noticed.

Paige's frown deepened to a scowl. "My bra is too tight. It feels like it's pinching me a little bit."

Beth tried not to smile. "Tina told you that you'd grow."

"And my pants are too tight," Paige added.

Beth stood suddenly and gently took Paige's arm. "Come on."

"What?" Paige was confused. "Where are we going?"

Beth led her to the bathroom and stood her in front of a full-length mirror. "See? You're getting a little curvier," Beth explained as she turned the girl so her profile was reflected in the mirror. "You're bust is growing ...."

"You mean my boobs are getting bigger," Paige whined.

"And your bottom is a little larger, more feminine," Beth continued.

"I hate how I'm changing!" Paige complained. "I didn't want this much change!"

Beth just smiled. "I'm sure Rachel and Tina told you how your body would be changing."

Paige stood, unable to respond to Beth's comment. Beth was right — she'd been lectured by both Rachel and Tina about the changes she could expect —before she'd committed to the contract.

"You're developing into a pretty young lady who doesn't look anything like Pete. And that's what you wanted, isn't it?" She saw the girl nod almost imperceptibly. "You need to be more confident in yourself," Beth said.

"_They_ destroyed any self-confidence I ever had," Paige said, her eyes moistening.

"Oh? How?"

"They always thought my older brother was so smart. They'd always tell him how smart he was, and they compared everything I did to him. They sometimes laughed at me and said I wasn't as smart. Once, when we met with my teacher and she said she remembered my brother, they told her that she shouldn’t expect my work to be as good as his." Tears were running down her cheeks at the bitter memory. "I was never good enough at anything!"

Beth pulled the girl into an embrace to comfort her. "I know it was tough. It's no wonder you don't have any self-confidence. But this is a new start for you. You're a new person. You aren't going to be compared to anyone."

"Why can't I stop crying all the time?" Paige asked, not trying to wipe the tears that streamed from her eyes. She felt so afraid and vulnerable; her emotions kept betraying her, instead of being bottled up like they had been for many, many years. She felt comfort in Beth's embrace, like a safe harbor in a storm. Despite the older woman's warm hug, Paige wondered when it was going to end, when she'd get hurt, like she always had. She couldn't trust anyone. Then she realized that she _had_ been trusting Beth, and Beth hadn't hurt her. Not yet, anyway. A part of Paige hoped that Beth never would betray her feelings, even while a small part nagged that _everyone_ hurt her, all her life. She hated the tiny voice of doubt. Why couldn't she just ignore it, so she wasn't afraid of letting someone else get close?

Beth held the girl tight. "Maybe it's because you've kept all the hurt inside for so many years, and you're overwhelmed when it comes out. And some of it is probably your hormones, too." Beth could feel Paige's tears moistening her shoulder.

Rachel had told Beth that it might be painful for Paige to talk about the past, but it would be helpful to the girl to be able to talk about all of her pain. It was a critical first step to overcoming her past and starting to move forward.

**********

Suzie looked up when the bell tinkled, announcing someone entering the clinic. She smiled as soon as she recognized the girl. "Good afternoon, Paige," she said warmly.

"Hi, Suzie," Paige answered. "I've got a checkup with Tina."

Suzie glanced at her computer. "You're a little early."

"Beth dropped me off, and she had an eye appointment, so I'll just have to wait."

"It might be a little longer, too. One of Tina's surgeries this morning took a lot longer than expected, and she's running behind." Suzie saw Paige's shoulders sag at the news. "Why don't you wait in the lounge?"

"Thanks."

"If Tina approves, you'll be ready for your transfer in a couple of weeks."

Paige shuddered. "Yeah, that's what she said last time."

"While you're here, do you want to talk to Rachel? She's doing paperwork this afternoon, and I'm sure she can get a little free time for you."

Paige shrugged. "I don't know."

"Or if you want me to switch a couple of people, you'd have time to get a workout in the gym," Suzie suggested.

Paige wrinkled her nose. "I ... I don't like working out by myself."

"Okay. I'll get someone to cover for me, and we'll go workout together." Suzie didn't give Paige time to react or protest before she summoned another worker to take her desk. Still smiling, she pulled her gym bag from underneath her desk, grabbed her purse, and stood up. "Let's go."

Stunned by the rapidity of the change of plans, Paige followed Suzie to the locker room. Paige, like most patients, had her own locker, so she didn't have _that_ excuse either. Resigned to getting unplanned exercise, she quickly changed and strode out to the gym, a towel around her neck, just like Suzie had. As they changed, she couldn't help looking at Suzie with amazement.

Suzie noticed. "What?" she asked.

Paige sighed. "It's just hard to believe that you were pregnant just a month and a half ago. You look so ... good!"

Suzie smiled. "You have to take care of yourself while you're pregnant so you don't have a lot of weight to lose after the baby. Tina and her staff are really good about nutrition and diet, in case you hadn't noticed."

"I don't know how I'm going to do it." The two walked out of the locker room into the gym.

"You'll do just fine," Suzie said reassuringly. "How about we start on the elliptical?" she suggested. The two women hung their towels and began their own exercise routines on the machines. "Are you going to get your drivers' license?" Suzie asked conversationally.

"Probably," Paige answered without conviction.

"It'd give you a lot more freedom, and it'd make life a little easier for Beth," Suzie added, "not that she's complaining."

"She never complains about anything," Paige observed. "She doesn't forget anything, either." The girl sounded wistful, like having someone care who didn't complain or forget was
something she'd missed.

"I take it your family forgot stuff?" Suzie prompted.

"They always forgot when they'd promised me something, and then something came up for my brother or sister."

"Ouch."

"They bought my brother a car when he turned sixteen, and they kept promising a new car to my sister. But when I was working on my driver's license, all I heard was that they'd help me get a loan for a car."

"That had to hurt."

"That's not as bad as them forgetting my birthday," Paige said bitterly.

Suzie's eyes widened. "Your birthday?"

"Twice." Paige's jaw was clenched, her grip on the machine vise-like from her anger. "And when they did remember, they didn't do anything to make up for it." She drew a couple of deep breaths to try to control her anger. "One year," she continued, "my sister's soccer team won a playoff game, and everyone immediately had to celebrate _her_ achievement! They forgot all about me." Paige's lip trembled. "I almost ran away that night," she confessed softly, "but I was only eleven." Bitter, angry memories flooded her, reminding her of those painful events and fanning the flames of her hatred of her family. Rachel and Suzie had all been telling her how unhealthy it was, emotionally, to continue to carry that hatred, but something always seemed to bring back bad memories, and they never let go of her.

"Wow!" was all that Suzie could say. If half of what she'd heard over the past weeks was true, it was a miracle that Paige hadn't become suicidal or run away long before she had. But she also knew that some of Paige's memories were biased by her viewpoint, and the truth probably wasn't as bad as she imagined. But the way she remembered things was bad enough.

**********

(To be continued)

A young man, feeling totally unwanted by his family, runs away. He needs to find a way to survive, and eventually, he stumbles into an Op Rescue clinic.
Paige continues to struggle against her past, but with help, slowly starts to think about her future.

Operation Rescue: In Plain Sight - Prologue
Operation Rescue: In Plain Sight - Chapter 1
Operation Rescue: In Plain Sight - Chapter 2

[email protected]

********************************************************************

This story is copyright by the author. It is protected by licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

"Want some popcorn?" Beth asked from the kitchen.

Paige, sprawled on the sofa, shook her head. "No, thank you," she said politely.

Beth finished pouring glasses of soda, put the soda bottle back in the refrigerator, and carried the two glasses out to the sofa. "Here you go," she said, handing a glass to Paige. She sat down. "What's on?"

Paige shrugged. "Some old movie. 'How to Murder Your Wife' or something like that."

"How did your appointment go? Are you going to be getting your transfer soon?"

"Yeah. Tina said I should get the transfer two weeks after I finish this period. She said my body is ready."

"You'll be off your feet for at least two weeks afterward," Beth noted.

"Yeah."

"You don't sound thrilled."

"Really? Sitting around in a hospital room, and then here, doing nothing for two weeks - again? That doesn't sound exciting to you?"

"Paige," Beth chided her gently, "stop with the self-pity. You know we'll all do everything we can to keep you from being bored."

"Sorry," the girl said, looking down in shame. "It's just that today, at our workout, Suzie reminded me of a few things that made me upset."

"You've got all of us to help you," Beth reminded Paige.

Paige didn't hear. Her eyes had a far-away look. "I don't know what to do when I'm alone. I never got any hobbies or activities that I was interested in," she said sadly. "My brother played trumpet, and then he quit, so when I wanted to play in the band, they made me play trumpet, since they already had one. I wanted to play the saxophone, but that didn't matter." She shook her head slowly. "I wanted to try out for the swim team, but my sister was already doing martial arts, and since they didn't want to be driving all over the place, I lost. I had a choice of nothing or martial arts." Her eyes started to water. "Why?" she asked, wiping at her tears. "Why can't I ever get away from them? It wasn't bad enough to make my life hell, but now they won't get out of my head!"

Beth scooted closer and pulled Paige's head onto her shoulder, wrapping her arms tightly around the sobbing girl. Inwardly, she cursed parents who could do this to a child, even if it was through sheer ignorance. Paige didn't deserve this. No child did.

**********

"How are you doing?" Beth called from the doorway. She was in her uniform, and was taking a break from her usual rounds and patients.

Startled, Paige turned her head toward Beth as she quickly closed the laptop. The head of her bed was elevated, so she was in a sitting position. "I'm a little bored," Paige answered.

Beth smiled. "I thought that computer kept you busy."

"When I'm not groggy from pain meds," Paige retorted. "Or when I'm not too uncomfortable."

"How is the pain?"

Paige shrugged. "It's kind of hard to believe there's a little girl inside me," she said, her voice filled with awe as she absently placed her hand on her tummy.

Beth smiled wistfully, her eyes staring into space as she recalled her own experiences. "That's what I felt like when I had my son, and again when I did my turn as a host."

"You did this, too?" Paige asked.

Beth nodded. "It's not a written requirement, but it's sort of expected that everyone on the staff will do at least one turn as a host, just so we can better empathize with our patients." She smiled. "Six months ago, could you have possibly imagined that you'd be carrying a baby now?"

"No," Paige chuckled. "It wasn't something I ever thought about. If you'd have told me I'd be a pregnant girl, I'd have said you were insane."

"Well, you are, and that makes you a very special person. You're going to help a little girl be born into the world." She saw how Paige seemed to melt when she said that Paige was special. She guessed that no-one had ever said anything like that to Paige before. "The baby is four months gestational age, so in five months, you get to give birth."

Paige wrinkled her nose. "I've heard that part's tough."

"It all depend. Some births are easy, some aren't. But it can't be too bad, or no-one would ever have siblings." She grinned. "Some women like being pregnant so much that they do more than one. Rachel has done four, and Tina, three. Helen, one of the nurses that you probably haven't met, is out on maternity leave with her seventh."

"Seven?" Paige's eyes looked like they were about to bulge out of their sockets.

"She's an unusual case. She carried the first twins that the Foundation dealt with. Some of our clients have done more than one contract." Beth smiled. "One girl is carrying her third baby while she studies for her doctorate at the university, while her partner is doing her first one. I wish you could meet her. Her story might help you adjust and get comfortable with yourself."

"Wow! Maybe I should do that."

"Wait until you're done before you make up your mind about carrying a second baby. Some women's pregnancies are easier, while others are pretty tough." Beth saw Paige's eyes widen at her warning. "You won't know for a few days if you're going to experience morning sickness. You won't know until the time comes if you'll have an easy delivery or a tough one. But then, Tina and Rachel already told you about the possible complications, didn't they?"

Paige looked down, her cheeks reddening slightly. "I ... didn't really pay attention," she admitted.

Beth laughed aloud. "While you're a girl, we're going to have to work on getting rid of those bad male habits, like not listening to instructions!"

Paige's face brightened at the joke.

"How are you doing on the on-line studying?" Beth asked, eliciting a stunned look from the girl. Beth smiled. "You've fallen asleep at the computer a few times, and I saw what website you were on. Don't worry, though. It's our secret."

"Thanks. It's ... kind of embarrassing to be so far behind."

"I think it's great that you're taking the initiative to do that," Beth said, sounding like a proud parent. "I've got to get back to my patient. If you need anything ...."

"Beth?" Paige called after her. She felt something strange, and pleasant, when Beth had praised her. It felt good.

"Yes, dear?"

"I noticed that there are classes and coaches for voice and manners and stuff like that. Do you think that I could get some lessons while I'm stuck here?"

Beth smiled. "I'll talk to Rachel. I'm sure we can get something arranged."

"Thanks."

As Beth was about to leave, another thought occurred to her. "Would you like it if I could see if maybe one of our host mothers — someone who'd had a full change like you — could spend a little time talking with you? Do you think that might help?"

Paige thought a moment. "Yeah. That might be nice."

Beth smiled, turned, and strode back to the nurses' station. She was already thinking of contacting one particular client, one who had a lot in common with Paige and might be able to help the girl out, if for no other reason than listening.

**********

"Are you sure?" Beth spoke into the phone. She had an expression of significant concern.

"I'll be fine," Paige replied on the other end, sounding a little impatient. She was sitting on the sofa in Beth's apartment, absently brushing her hair out of her face. "You're the one who keeps telling me that I have to get out more."

"Where are you planning to go?" Paige's confidence didn't allay Beth's fears. She knew how reclusive and fearful Paige was.

"I'm going to the mall. I need to get a couple of new bras, and I figured I should get some jeans or pants that are more comfortable. My tummy _is_ getting bigger," Paige reminded Beth. She was doing her best to sound confident and self-assured, but she wasn't really convincing Beth.

"You promise you won't lift anything heavy? You won't try to buy too much?"

"I've seen women who are a lot more than six months along doing more exercise and lifting than you're letting me do! And I'm completely healed from my surgery. Tina said so," she added. "That was almost two months ago!"

"We're just trying to take care of you," Beth countered. "Promise you won't lift anything heavy?"

"I promise," Paige said, sighing. "You and Tina and Rachel are all ganging up on me!" she feigned a complaint.

"Don't forget Suzie," Beth chuckled.

"Yeah, whatever," Paige answered. She really wanted to get going on her errands.

"Are you sure? You'll have to transfer from the two-twenty bus to the fifty-four bus downtown," Beth began. "I'll be off at four. Maybe you should wait and we can ...."

"I'll be okay," Paige reassured Beth, rolling her eyes in a gesture that Beth couldn't see, while trying to keep sarcasm out of her voice. "I know the bus schedule."

"Okay. I've got to get back to my rounds. Call if you need anything."

Paige hung up the cell phone. It wasn't fancy, like some folks had, but it did give her basic phone and texting capability that she'd lacked for years. The phone gave her a sense of confidence to try going out on her own. She'd already ventured to the corner store for a few small grocery items — she still wasn’t permitted to do any heavy lifting — and she'd walked to a Subway for lunch once, even though she'd been quite nervous during her outings.

Paige thought briefly about changing out of the sweats she was wearing, but when she remembered the last time she'd tried to pull on her tight jeans a week earlier, she abandoned the idea. Her pants — and indeed some of her blouses — were purchased before her transfer. Now, she had a four- month-old baby in her uterus, and while she wasn't yet showing, it was enough to make her jeans very uncomfortable. Her breasts were growing, so her bras fit poorly, and some of her tops were tight.

Paige had been clothes-shopping twice with Beth, and she knew that she didn't understand women's sizes, let alone the dizzying array of clothing that some girls owned. That didn't dissuade her; if she had to be a girl for this contract, she was determined to learn. All the women at the clinic had experienced Paige's stubborn streak, so the latest adventure of getting out of the apartment to go shopping really wasn't a surprise.

She pulled on a little more colorful T-shirt before she touched up her makeup and hair. While it had been strange the first few times she'd worn makeup, or styled her hair, she'd attacked that change with the same gusto that she applied to all of her challenges, and now it seemed strange to not be wearing makeup or have her hair done.

For a brief moment, as she stared at her reflection in the mirror, Paige wondered what she was doing. She could still see the haunted look in her eyes, from all her days as Pete, suffering emotional abuse, or living alone and in fear of being forced back home. She could easily recognize Pete's features under her hair and makeup, even though Rachel, Suzie, and Beth constantly reassured her that she didn't look anything like Pete. She was now a girl, completely and anatomically, and thanks to the lessons at the clinic, she was rapidly developing female mannerisms, and her voice was a lot more feminine than Pete's had been. She was pregnant, too, although she wished a little bit that she was very pregnant and showing. No-one would ever think that a pregnant girl, with a very large belly and enlarged breasts, could have once been a runaway teenager.

With some trepidation, Paige walked down the stairs of the apartment building and out into the sun. The bus stop was only half a block away, and she strode quickly there. She only glanced nervously around herself once or twice, before she got to the stop. While she was waiting for the bus, and during the bus rides, she seemed to get more and more uncomfortable, her eyes slowly reflecting her fear, as she ventured far from the safety of the apartment.

Once she got in the mall, she felt both more secure and less so in the large crowd. It would be harder for someone to focus on her, and identify her, but at the same time, there were _so many_ people! She hadn't expected the mall to be so crowded in mid-afternoon on a weekday, and yet it was.

Paige stood in the entrance, and took a couple of deep breaths to steady herself. Clenching her jaw with determination, she walked purposefully into the mall, and to one of the stores. Trying on bras and panties was easier than she'd thought; while she was in the changing room, she found that she was relaxed, because she was safe from anyone who might see and recognize her.

After the successful foray to buy lingerie, and as she strode toward a department store, Paige started suddenly feeling uncomfortable and very self-conscious. She glanced around nervously. Her eyes went wide with fright and her jaw dropped when she saw a girl staring intently at her. Her heart raced as she tried to force herself to look away, to walk away, or something, but Paige found that she was frozen with fear. She recognized the girl. The name came to her instantly — Amy Miller. Amy had been in the same class as Pete for years, since grade school. In early years, they were good friends, until the inevitable separation caused by budding hormones and peer-pressure. And Amy was staring at Paige, with what Paige _knew_ was recognition in her eyes.

Paige finally managed to turn and walk, then run, away from Amy. She was sure that Amy had recognized her, and was following her. She was only barely aware that, by running headlong through the mall, she was attracting more attention, and that now many people were staring at her. She glanced over her shoulder, paranoia setting in, as she fled. The nearest place that looked like safety lay ahead — the restrooms. Glancing over her shoulder once more, she ducked down the short hall to the restrooms and burst into the ladies' room. As busy as the mall was, the restroom surprisingly had only a few ladies and girls in it. Paige crashed through a semi-open door into a stall, slamming it shut behind her. She stared at the door, certain that Amy was going to open it and catch her, and then report to her parents that she'd found Pete.

Paige backed away from the door, beside the toilet. It was her good luck that she'd stumbled into the corner stall. She collapsed against the back wall, sandwiched between the side wall and the cold porcelain of the toilet. She curled up into a ball, her lip trembling as she whimpered in fright, her eyes locked on the stall door, terrified that Amy had followed her, and was going to confront her about her change, or to announce that she was going to tell Paige's parents where they could find their 'son'.

Somehow, part of Paige's mind wasn't overcome by her paralyzing fear and panic attack. After it successfully fought off the terrorized reaction the rest of her brain was suffering, the logic center directed her to pull out her cell phone and press a few buttons. The phone on the other end rang, and as the person answered it, the phone slipped from Paige's hand and clattered to the bathroom floor. "Suzie?" Paige whimpered over and over, tears streaming down her cheeks, as the logical half of her mind was finally and completely overwhelmed by the terrified emotional half.

**********

"Your outing was pretty daring," Rachel observed without judgment. "You shouldn't have tried to go out alone — not with your fear. You know we would have helped you if you had asked."

Paige was sitting on the couch, her face still white with terror, and her knees drawn up to her chest so that she was nearly in a fetal position. "Uh huh," she whispered, her cheeks still moist from ongoing tears. The cord handle of her shopping bag was still over her arm, and she clutched tightly to her purse as if it were a life jacket and she were drowning.

Suzie had dropped everything and rushed to the mall to find Paige. It took a bit of doing; the girl was nearly catatonic, and hadn't mentioned where she was. It was fortunate that the background noise of a toilet flushing had given Suzie a clue. It had taken nearly twenty minutes to calm the girl enough to come out of the stall, and then another twenty to get her to walk out to Suzie's car. All the while, Paige had one hand held up almost like she was going to suck her thumb, and the other clenching the wrist of her first arm. Shopping bags were still hanging from her arms. In the car, Paige hadn't moved, and Suzie had to buckle her in. They'd returned directly to the clinic, to Rachel's office, where Paige was now sitting.

"What happened?" Rachel asked simply.

"A friend ...," Paige began, still trembling. "She ... she recognized me."

"You _thought_ she recognized you," Rachel corrected. Paige stared, doe-eyed, at Rachel. "You don't look anything like you did when you first came here. You've changed totally. It'd be nearly impossible that someone would recognize you."

"Why was she staring at me?" Paige asked in a tiny, frightened voice. "She recognized me! Now she'll tell _them_! And they'll start looking for me again!"

Rachel shook her head. "I really doubt she recognized you. You've changed your appearance too much for anyone to recognize."

"Why was she staring?"

"Have you ever looked at someone, and had the feeling that you'd seen them somewhere before? You stare, even though you can't think of a name to go with the face. Right?"

Paige nodded. "I guess," she agreed reluctantly.

"I think you took too big a first step." Rachel sighed. "With all the changes, you were slowly getting over your fear being in public. Until today, at least, you seemed to be doing rather well."

"That's why I thought I could do this," Paige said.

"And you were probably feeling cooped up, and bored?"

Paige nodded. "I feel ... like the apartment is closing in on me sometimes."

"We have good facilities here. You can always hang out in the lounge. And if you want to go out somewhere else, we have staff who can go with you to help you feel more confident."''

"Yeah, I guess." Paige didn't sound too sure.

"You're not being kept on a leash," Rachel said firmly. "This is for your mental health and safety."

"Okay." She still didn't sound convinced.

"We need to get you past your fear that everyone will recognize you and force you back to a situation that made you miserable, but you need to be more patient - not taking a big leap like you did today."

"Even when I ran away," Paige started sobbing, "even when I change everything, they're still after me. All the crap I had to put up with — it still torments me! I hate them! I hate them all! I wish they were all dead!" Paige let her head collapse into her hands, weeping. "They won't leave me alone."

Rachel moved next to Paige and put her hand on the girl's shoulder, reassuring her. "You'll be okay," Rachel offered. "You have to get out all those years of pain before you can get past them."

"I wish I could change how I look completely," Paige wept. "So no-one would recognize me." She suddenly looked up at Rachel. "Isn't there some kind of surgery that you could do for me?" Her eyes were pleading.

Rachel knew what the policy was; once a girl had her transfer, surgical procedures were highly discouraged, since they posed a threat to the baby as well. And in this case — a young man who hadn't fully committed to remaining a woman, it was very contra-indicated. But they were going to have to do something. Paige had been studying on-line for her GED, and once that was accomplished, she had been somewhat receptive to the idea of starting at the community college toward a degree. But those steps would require her to be able to go out in public, and she didn't have enough self-confidence to do that. She was too paralyzed by fear. "We _don't_ do any elective surgery while a woman is pregnant. Any unnecessary risk to the baby is unacceptable."

"But ... I need ...."

Rachel shook her head firmly. "No. If you absolutely feel you need to get out of the apartment, we'll make sure there's a staff member who can be with you. We don't want a repeat of this incident, do we?"

"No," Paige said, her head low.

"I know you have a strong sense of independence," Rachel continued. "I know this is really difficult for you. But you need to believe that we're here to help you, and that we'll get through this _together_. Okay?"

"Okay."

"I get the strong sense that your entire reason for wanting to change your appearance is so you aren't as afraid of being recognized, true?"

Paige shrugged. "Maybe. I guess."

"That's not a reason to change your facial appearance. You _do_ know that, if you have cosmetic surgery, you're essentially committing to remaining female. Going back from _that_ step is much harder than just replacing your male parts. "It's a very serious step toward becoming transgendered, and staying a woman. That's not how you should handle big decisions like this. You need to change out of desire, not fear."

Paige's eyes widened as she considered Rachel's warning. "I ... I hadn't thought of that," she admitted softly.

"Does it scare you? The thought of staying a woman?"

"Yeah."

"But not as much as the fear of your family, or of being recognized as the boy you once were?"

"Yeah." She looked at the floor, then at Rachel. "Before, I was always afraid, and I always had nightmares. Since I ... look like this, I haven't had as many. I feel ... like I'm free. Sometimes, when I look in the mirror, I feel ... special, not like I did before." Tears started to leak from her eyes. "You and Suzie and Beth — you’ve all been so nice to me, and I feel ... wanted."

"You _are_ a special person," Rachel reassured Paige. "You _are_ wanted."

Paige looked up at Rachel, her eyes still moist. "The other day, when I went out for lunch, a couple of girls talked to me. It felt good to talk with them ... like friends. And ...."

"And what?" Rachel's curiosity was piqued.

Paige looked down, her cheeks reddening. "A couple of boys were staring at me ... and they were smiling at me." She paused, wondering how to continue. "I felt ... pretty."

"You've changed enough so that you don't have to have the surgery," Rachel changed back to the original subject.

"But ... I _want_ to feel prettier!" Paige protested, still staring at the floor so Rachel couldn't see her beet-red cheeks. "When I look in the mirror, I still see ... an ugly boy ... that no-one wanted. I hate that! I want to feel like I'm special."

"I see your point." Rachel sighed heavily. "I understand what you're saying, but as director, I _can't_ approve cosmetic surgery while you're carrying the baby. After you deliver the baby, if you still want to do it, we can arrange something. Okay?"

Paige looked up at her. "You said yourself that I'm not as frightened since ... these changes. I don't want to be scared any more. I _need_ to not be scared. So Okay.” Paige sounded relieved at that promise.

"And I promise you that we'll help every way we can. But I will not let you endanger the baby, and that's final. I want you coming in every day for the next few weeks."

"Why?" Paige's internal alarms were sounding again. Why was Rachel insisting on her being there more often? Didn't they trust her? Didn't they think she was capable?

"Paige, you're fear caused you a panic attack. That's not healthy for you, either physically or mentally, and it's sure not healthy for the baby. We need to work on you overcoming your fear, so you can have a normal, productive life."

Paige nodded glumly. She'd already spent time with Rachel and another counselor discussing her family history, and she wasn't looking forward to more such discussions. Each time more of her past had been dredged up, she'd ended up with nightmares that night.

Rachel noted the shift in Paige's mood. "Hey," she said, her tone encouraging, "you're getting there. You've made a lot of progress already. You have a lot of people to help you. Just believe that you can do this. Okay?"

Paige nodded, a tiny, hesitant movement of her head. "Okay." She didn't sound confident.

**********

"You are ...?" Paige asked warily, easing herself into a chair at the table in one of the lounges.

The girl smiled. She was pregnant — quite pregnant. "I'm Tommi Sue Snyder," she said pleasantly. "Rachel suggested that I should talk to you, to see if I can give you some advice." She patted her belly. "I hope you'll forgive me for not standing."

Paige took a moment to look over the newcomer. She knew that Rachel had suggested that this girl, Tommi, would be helpful, but still, she couldn't help but be suspicious. Even seated, Paige could tell that Tommi was a little taller than an average girl, and despite being pregnant, she looked quit slim and graceful. Her baby was the basketball in the tummy, not the overall bloat that seemed more common among women, which meant that Tommi took very good care of herself. She wore her long brown hair in a simple ponytail, probably for convenience since she was so far along, but her makeup was as perfect as Rachel's always was. Tommi's outfit was simple, yet attractive, something that would have been suitable for an office or for shopping. The thing that really stood out, though, was the sparkle in her eyes, the zest for life that she showed. Paige gulped; the girl was so perfect that Paige felt, strangely, inadequate. "I'm Paige," she said simply.

Tommi Sue nodded knowingly. "Rachel told me."

"What else did she tell you?" Paige asked, suspicion creeping into her voice.

"Only that you're like me, but a little earlier in the process."

"What do you mean, like you?"

Tommi Sue laughed, a gentle, friendly, feminine sound. "A few years ago, I was a guy who got in trouble, lost a scholarship, and had to find a job."

"You were a guy?" Paige was dumbfounded. "But you look, you act, you sound ... like a girl!'

Tommi Sue nodded. "Thanks. I had some help from the girls in my dorm, and from the coaches here in the clinic. And Erica doesn't let me get away with anything boyish, either."

"Who's Erica? Is she one of the staff here?"

Tommi Sue chuckled. "No. She's my partner. She's the love of my life." Her eyes had a particularly radiant sparkle when she was talking about the other girl. "She's my world. Well, her and grad school. But she comes first," she added quickly with a grin.

Paige shook her head, puzzled. "How did _you_ decide to be a girl, or to stay a girl?"

"It's a long story. The short version is that I fooled around, lost a scholarship, started the program to pay for college, and then was rejected by my family, my friends that I grew up with — pretty much everyone back ... there. The clinic gave me a way to stay in college, and then new friends, a new family, and ... everything!" She was ebullient about the benefits she'd received from being a host mother.

Paige looked down at her hands. "My ... family ... hates me," she said mournfully. "I had to get away from them." Her voice cracked with emotion. "And I hate what they did to me so much that I ran away more than two years ago."

Tommi's eyes widened with surprise. "You ... can't be more than eighteen or nineteen. That means you were living on your own when you were ... sixteen?"

Paige nodded. "Fifteen. It was better than _their_ abuse."

"And I'd suppose that you never contacted them? Do they know ...?"

"No!" Paige said sharply, looking up at Tommi Sue, and her eyes burning with determination. "They don't know, and I don't want them to ever know! They probably wouldn't care, anyway. They treated me like shit, so they wouldn't care if I'm dead or not."

Tommi nodded somberly. "No wonder Rachel wanted me to talk to you." She could tell that this was a very troubled young lady.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Paige was forcing herself to stay at the table, to not get up and leave. Her suspicions were fully aroused. Why was Tommi talking to her the way she was? How much had Rachel told her? Could she trust Tommi?

Tommi was glad Rachel had given her a briefing, or she would have been surprised by Paige's defensiveness. "Just that I was once a guy, and felt family rejection, too, so Rachel must figure that we have enough in common that I can help. I'm doing my fourth baby, by the way, so we have being host mothers in common, too."

"Four?" Paige was wide-eyed with surprise. "And you used to be a guy?"

"If you didn't know, would you have guessed?"

"Uh, no, I don't think so. No." Paige shook her head slightly, her anger damped by Tommi's charm and friendliness. "You like having babies?"

Tommi nodded. "Yes, I do. But to be honest, when this one is done and I'm a little closer to getting my degree, Erica and I are going to have our own children."

"Did it take you a long time to get used to being a girl?" Paige's line of questioning turned to something safe, something far from her family and the rejection she'd experienced.

Tommi laughed. "It took me a lot longer to decide to go all the way than I'm told it took you. It's rather unusual for someone to decide to make such radical changes so quickly, and then press to change more — all without looking back."

"You don't know what kind of crap I put up with, or how much they hurt me. What would _you_ do to hide from people who did nothing but hurt you?" Paige asked bitterly. "I'm not weird or anything, but it's the only way I can get away from them."

"So, with the changes, you're hiding in plain sight, is that it?" Tommi asked, eliciting a surprised look from Paige. Tommi laughed lightly. "You're going to encounter some things that challenge you, though," Tommi said, "even though you've decided to make this extreme change."

"Worse than having a period? Or of suddenly being pregnant?"

Tommi smiled. "Yes, even more than that. But you'll find a lot of help adjusting, if you're not too stubborn to accept it."

Paige was silent for a moment as she considered Tommi's words. "Is it worth it? Is there anything you miss ... about being a guy, I mean?"

Tommi shook her head. "No, not a thing. I love who I am, and what I found. Now, how about if we spend some time talking about you, and what you've gone through? And what you're going to go through?"

**********

Paige sat in a chair in the examining room, pent-up energy making her want to walk out the door. Going to the gym to work off some of her antsy-ness actually seemed like an attractive idea, despite the fact that she usually abhorred going to the gym. She couldn't, however, just walk out — she'd get in big trouble with Tina, and then with Beth and Rachel.

Instead of leaving, then, Paige started looking at the various medical charts and models strewn about the room. She hadn't had high-school biology, so a lot of the terms were a mystery to her, but she still found it interesting.

"Hi, Paige," Tina said cheerfully, opening the door and stepping into the room. As usual, she carried a computer with all of the records.

Paige was startled by Tina's appearance. "Uh, hi," she replied, quickly taking a seat on the examining table.

Tina glanced at the chart Paige had been reading. "Are you interested in medicine?" she asked conversationally.

Paige shook her head, her cheeks reddening slightly. "No," she said quickly. "I was just passing time."

"You know, there are a lot of careers in medicine, from medical assistant, all the way to physician. You might want to think about your future."

"Uh, I don't think so," Paige replied quickly. "I don't really like medicine."

"How is the pregnancy going? I take it you're over your morning sickness?"

Paige shrugged. "It wasn't that bad, really," she answered. "Just a little upset stomach in the morning."

"Consider yourself lucky. Some women have those — or far worse - symptoms for their entire pregnancy." Tina was clinical and to-the-point for the rest of the examination. "I see you've put on a couple of extra pounds."

Paige pouted. "It's not my fault. After all I had to eat on the healing drugs, I kind of got used to big portions."

"Well, I'll talk with Beth about making sure your portions are properly sized, and you'll get to spend a little more time in the gym."

"I thought I read something that said the exercise people do is only worth a little bit of any weight they lose," Paige rebutted.

Tina laughed. "That's true, but it's still my prerogative to make you exercise so you stay in shape. You're not the worst. One patient had a real sweet tooth, and a friend who insisted on buying her pastries at the college donut shop every morning! She was a tough one to get to behave with diet." A warm, nostalgic smile dawned on Tina's face. "She's still a very good friend, and all that exercise taught her how to take care of herself. For having delivered three babies, and being on her fourth, she's in remarkably good shape."

"I can't believe someone would do four babies," Paige said incredulously. "Rachel had me talk to a woman the other day who's on her fourth baby." She shook her head. "I don't understand it."

"She's probably the same girl I'm talking about. Was her name Tommi Sue?"

"Yeah," Paige acknowledged.

"You should listen to her. You could learn a lot. She had a very rough couple of years, but look at where she is now. She's about to get her PhD, and she's already got an offer from the Foundation to work on biomedical research." Tina smiled at fond memories. "Tommi is a wonderful girl."

"She said she ... used to be a guy." Paige shook her head. "I can't believe that. She looks so ... pretty - and feminine!"

Tina smiled. "You should have met her when she started. I think she was a lot more confused than you are."

"So, what you're saying is that it will get better?"

"That's for you and Rachel to discuss, honey," Tina chuckled. "Now, let's get the exam over with."

Paige knew, from experience, that once Tina entered 'doctor mode', she was very focused, and chit-chat was a distraction that Tina didn't like. She started to swing her legs up to the stirrups, but Tina interrupted her. "No, we don't need to do a pelvic today." She listened to Paige's heart and lungs, and then used her fetal Doppler stethoscope to listen to the baby's heartbeat. As she put the instrument away, she commented, "I think we can ease some of the restrictions on lifting, and you can go to a little more strenuous exercise. Not more than fifteen to twenty pounds lifting, though. And when you go to the gym, they'll know what routines you should be doing."

Paige nodded. "Okay," she said, sounding unhappy. She knew that the fitness trainer in the gym would ensure that she adhered to the new routine, which meant that she'd be more tired after her gym sessions.

"Do you have an appointment scheduled with Rachel today?"

"No. But I'm supposed to go to the gym."

"Then I'll get the new instructions to them right now, so you can get started right away." She picked up her computer and typed, while Paige groaned softly at her efficiency.

Paige trudged to the gym, dreading a new workout routine. In her mind, she knew that she needed more exercise, especially since shed been on tight restrictions since her transfer. Knowing that, however, didn’t make her any less reluctant to actually begin more rigorous exercise, especially if Louise was the trainer. Louise was very demanding, known for not allowing her trainees even the slightest latitude in the routine. Dreading a workout with "the fitness fascist", as some clients called her, Paige walked into the locker room and changed into her exercise clothes. With a final resigned sigh, she grabbed a towel from a pile, flipped it over her shoulder, and went out to the gym.

Paige felt relief wash over her when she saw that Louise already had a client working out with her. As she glanced around, another trainer looked up from a computer at the trainer's desk. "Ah, good morning, Paige," she said warmly. "I see Tina wants you to start level 2 workouts."

"Yeah," Paige answered unenthusiastically.

The trainer, a mid-twenties girl named Kelly, chuckled. "We'll start out slow, since you've been on restrictions for a while."

"Okay." Paige followed Kelly to the row of elliptical training machines. "Five minutes to warm up?" she asked.

"We'll start with six today, and we'll slowly work up to a total of fifteen minutes. We need to get you into aerobic exercise, remember?"

"Yay," Paige said with not the slightest hint of enthusiasm. She slung her towel over a rack near the machines and started exercising. Her eyes widened when Kelly adjusted the program, making it a little more difficult.

"Don't worry," Kelly said with a smile when she saw Paige's reaction. "We'll work up slowly. By the way, I love how you've done your hair. It's really cute," she complimented.

Paige's cheeks blushed at the compliment, even as she felt a twinge of distress at being called a cute girl. Did part of her like being a cute girl? Being complimented was something that she'd seldom experienced, and she found that she enjoyed the feeling of others noticing her in a positive way.

As she continued the exercise, under the gentle but firm guidance of Kelly, Paige couldn't help but wonder who she was. She was no longer the terrified young homeless boy who'd come into the clinic looking for a job months ago. Now, though, she was undeniably a young lady, who was pregnant with the baby she was hosting. She realized that she'd been insistent on coaching to change her voice and manners. She had one of the most feminine hairstyles she could get. She was wearing her makeup to make her look more feminine, too. She realized, with a start, that it was like she was trying to hide that boy. Was that what she was doing? Was she hiding? Or was she trying to start over completely by erasing that frightened young boy from existence? She didn’t know the answer, and she found that scary as well. Did that mean she had no core identity, but was like a chameleon, adapting the outer form to hide, to blend in and not be noticed.

They moved to the weight machine, and as she worked through her exercises, Paige tried to focus her mind on the routines that Kelly was introducing her to. The exercise routine, with its mindless repetitions, were boring, though, and her idle mind kept returning to the question of who she was, and what she was doing. And as she thought, a single, solitary thought intruded into her self-questioning. It was a brutal thought that absorbed all of Paige's consciousness with its ugliness, and Paige was instantly and totally distracted. Her feet slipped off the foot rests, allowing the weights she'd been using for leg presses to crash noisily. Even as her feet slipped, the horrible possibility of that sudden intrusive thought caused Paige to cry in anguish. The footrest, following the weights, skidded past her legs, angrily bumping into her shins.

With the noise of iron weight crashing together, Kelly immediately thought that something had happened to Paige. "Are you okay?" she said in an automatic reaction as she quickly squatted down beside the now-injured girl. She saw tears pouring from Paige's eyes, and heard her whimpering. The trainer's automatic assumption was that the girl had hurt herself. She pressed a button on a small device attached to her waist. Over the years, enough girls had been injured in the gym, often through emotional over-reaction or, in the case of former guys, from a need to prove that they were still manly, so the trainers had been provided with 'medical alert' pagers. In response to that button press, at least one of the doctors would rush to the gym to deal with a potential injury, allowing the trainer to focus on calming the injured client and prevent movement and further damage.

"Don't move," Kelly said to Paige, putting her hands lightly on the girl's shoulders. "Someone is coming to help."

Paige turned her head slowly and stared at Kelly, still weeping. It seemed to take a few moments for the trainer's words to sink in. "They're still controlling me," she cried, her voice trembling with emotion. "They're still after me."

"Where are you hurt?" Kelly continued, following her own training.

An older woman in a lab coat rushed into the gym. After a momentary scan, she ran over to Paige's side. "What happened?" the doctor asked, taking control of the situation. "Where does it hurt?"

"My shins," Paige answered, still crying. "I slipped, and it hit my shins."

"Can you move your feet?"

Paige stared at the doctor, and then nodded as she complied with the request. She continued following the doctor's instruction as the doctor had her move her legs, while probing the girl's shins and ankles.

"I don't think you broke anything," the doctor reported, leaning back on her heels. "I think you're going to get by with just some bad bruising." The doctor stood. "I want to get X-rays, though, just to make sure that we don't miss anything." She looked reassuringly at Paige. "Don't try to get up. We'll get a wheelchair to take you down to the X-ray lab," she said before she turned and walked out of the gym.

Kelly looked at Paige, at her red and puffy eyes, and her sodden cheeks. "What happened?"

Paige sighed and wiped one side of her face. "I need to talk to Rachel. Please." She sounded like she was practically begging. "Please!"

**********

Paige took the tissue proffered by Rachel and wiped her cheeks. Her tears wouldn't stop, even during her ride in a wheelchair and a precautionary X-ray the doctor had ordered. The doctor had been correct; Paige hadn't broken anything. Rachel realized, from what Kelly had told her, and from Paige's reaction, that the worst bruising was probably psychological. Something had caused the girl sudden emotional trauma. It was now her job to find that something, and to help Paige deal with it. At times, such as now, Rachel envied the medical doctors. They dealt with visible things, able to see and diagnose injuries and illnesses and other conditions in their patients. Rachel, on the other hand, had to be a detective, snooping and prying until she found whatever issue lurked in the hidden recesses of her patients' minds.

"Kelly mentioned that you cried out before your feet slipped, not after," Rachel prompted, retrieving the soggy tissue from Paige and handing her a dry one.

Paige stared at her for a moment, her eyes bloodshot and puffy from her non-stop crying. "Yeah," she finally muttered.

"Did something distract you?"

Paige merely nodded as she wiped at her other cheek, dampening the once-dry tissue.

"What was it?"

Paige took a deep breath, trying to control her sobbing. "Kelly said that I was a cute girl. That got me thinking about who I really am."

"And ...?"

"And I started wondering if I was doing all this — you know, makeup, hair, voice coaching, working on mannerisms — because I want to, or because ... because ...." Her voice cracked, and she began to sob again.

Rachel knew, from all the time they'd spent together, exactly what Paige had been thinking. "You were wondering if you were doing it from fear of being found, right?" She saw Paige nod. "And that maybe made you think that you were still reacting to your family, and because of that, they were still controlling you?"

Paige nodded again, wiping at fresh tears. Rachel _did_ know what she felt. Paige felt like she was still a puppet, being manipulated by her family, even when she thought she'd escaped them. All she'd done was to trade one type of misery for another.

"You'll probably always react to what your family did," Rachel said, "just like every person reacts to their experiences — both the good ones and the bad ones." The girl looked up at her, surprised by this train of thought. "Let me put it another way. If you were crossing a street, and got hit by a car and injured, would it change how you crossed streets for the rest of your life?"

Paige considered Rachel's words for a moment, and then nodded. "I guess."

"Whatever we do in life, we _always_ subconsciously consider our experiences. It helps us survive, to avoid bad or painful or harmful situations, and to seek good, pleasant, rewarding things."

"But ... why do I feel like I'm still running away?" Paige asked. "I'm still doing everything out of fear."

Rachel smiled warmly. "Is that why you're studying for your GED?" she asked, startling the girl. "Those type of things show that you're starting to seek better experiences and situations. You're doing more than just fleeing things that are bad or potentially bad."

"I didn't think of that," Paige said. Her tears were almost stopped, and she wiped her cheeks one more time.

"You're starting to look at things out of _your_ desires, not out of fear. It means that you've turned a corner."

"But ... those thoughts and memories are ... really awful sometimes."

Rachel nodded sympathetically. "You may not want to hear this, but they always will be. They're a part of who you are, and what made you into a unique person. But what you and I are doing is to help you to learn to think about the positive steps _you_ want to make, and to be able to put aside those fears."

**********

"How's the studying going?" Beth called when she spotted Paige working at the computer.

"Pretty good." Paige turned the chair toward Beth. "Did you tell Rachel?"

Beth thought for a moment. On the one hand, she knew that Paige might consider her reporting as a violation of her trust. On the other hand, it was vital to Paige's mental health that Rachel know what was going on. She nodded slowly. "Yeah, I did. I hope you're not mad at me, but I thought it was important that she knew."

Paige nodded, with a grim expression, as she considered whether or not what Beth had done was a's betrayal. "She said that it means that I'm starting to think positively." She suddenly had a revelation that Beth hadn't told Rachel to torment her, but to _help_ her. It was the first time that she could remember someone trying to help her like that. It felt ... nice.

"Good." Beth felt relief course through her. "Are you about ready for the test?"

Paige winced visibly, though she was trying to control her emotions. "Not really," she said. Her lame excuse wasn't convincing.

"I think you're ready, based Based on what I've seen, I think you're ready," Beth countered. "There's a test date coming up, and I think you're ready."

"I ... I'm not sure," Paige stammered. She turned away from Beth toward the computer again.

Beth frowned. "What's the real reason?" she asked.

"I'm not ready," Paige declared sternly.

"The sooner you take the test, the sooner you can start working on a career."

"I don't want a career," Paige snapped. "I don't want to get locked into ... that life." She had a determined, angry expression.

Beth read her emotional state. "Deciding on a career path doesn't mean you have to follow that same life," she tried to sound calm. This was very plainly a hot-button for Paige. "But you might want to reconsider. What are you going to do after you finish this pregnancy?" She saw Paige's eyes open wide at that thought. "Are you going to go back to live in your hut?"

"There are worse places," Paige tried to sound confident, but she failed.

"I suppose you'd be a little more worried about living in your hut. After all, you're a girl now, and with the criminal activity in that area ...."

Try as she might, Paige couldn't suppress the look of terror in her eyes at Beth's words. She opened her mouth to say something, but she couldn't find any words to rebut Beth's argument.

"You have to start thinking of your future," Beth said, trying to reassure the girl.

"Are you going to push me to go to college, so I can be a secretary, or a nurse, or a teacher? And you want me to get a boyfriend so I can get married and have kids of my own?" She bolted from the chair to her bedroom, slamming the door shut.

After a moment, when she overcame the shock of Paige' emotional, vehement outburst, Beth walked to Paige's closed door, and leaned closer. She could hear the girl crying aloud. Beth stood for a moment, wondering what she should do. Paige's tantrum was unexpected and out of character, but Beth caught herself. She'd only known Paige for a short time compared to how long Paige had been tormented and then lived alone. She really _didn't_ know if it was out of character. She thought more — what was it she'd said that had set the girl off? They were discussing the future — and then Paige had gotten upset about having a family. Could it be that she feared causing a child the same anguish she'd felt?

Beth knocked firmly. "Paige?"

The sobbing noise halted. "Yeah?"

"Can we talk?"

A moment later, the door opened. "Yeah." Paige's eyes were red from crying. She walked back and sat on her bed, her back against the headboard and her knees drawn up to her chest.

Beth sat down on the bed, facing the girl. "I'm sorry if I said something that upset you. I wasn't trying to."

"I know." The girl had her chin on her knees. "I don't know why I got so upset."

"Maybe you're afraid of the future. Maybe you're afraid that if you go on a path that might lead to a relationship and a family, that you might hurt someone as badly as you were hurt."

Paige thought for a moment. "I suppose."

"You know, there's no rule that says you have to act like your parents did." Beth's words were calming to the girl. "In fact, you'll probably be much more sensitive if you were to become a parent, because you know how easily children's feelings can be hurt."

"But ...." Paige wanted to say something, but wasn't quite sure.

"Just because you decide on to work on a career for your future, it doesn't mean that you have to go down the path of parenthood, or even getting married. I can understand why you'd be scared of not being a good parent, and of hurting children emotionally. But if you look at the positive side, there are many, many single women who have satisfying careers and are self-supporting." Paige was looking at Beth, wide-eyed and unsure. "Think of starting an education as a way to become _more_ independent."

Surprise showed on Paige's face. She'd never considered what Beth was saying. Perhaps Beth was right. She'd been hurt so badly that she feared becoming like those that had hurt her. She was so paralyzed with fear of the past that she was missing an opportunity to truly escape it. Maybe it was time to completely turn her back on what had been and to look to what could be for a change.

Paige sighed heavily. It was such a big step to change her thinking from running away from something, to running toward something else. She'd spent too many years living in fear; it had become as natural to her as breathing. "I suppose my hormones don't help much, either?" she asked dryly.

Beth chuckled. "It's been a long time since I had my hormones upset with pregnancy, so I'll take your word for it."

**********

"You look very nice today," Rachel complimented Paige as she walked demurely into Rachel's office and sat down gracefully. Paige wore a very flattering outfit of pants in a lovely rose color, with an ecru blouse decorated with embroidered roses and leaves on the placket and collars. With her hair pulled mostly to one side, but some locks sweeping low over one eye, she looked attractive, especially with the golden hoop earrings that flitted into and out of view as she moved her head.

"Thanks," Paige said, her cheeks as rosy with embarrassment as the embroidered flowers on her blouse.

"Your voice lessons are paying off, too." She shook her head, smiling as she did so. "I'd never have guessed, in a million years, that you were once a boy named Pete. You don't look or sound anything like a starving, runaway, homeless street boy."

"I think everything is going okay. With the baby, I mean," Paige added hastily. "I've got a checkup with Tina after I'm done here. She'll probably make me do more exercises and give me a new diet, though, because I think I've put on a couple of pounds. It's hard not to, though, because I don't have ...."

"Paige," Rachel interrupted the girl's prattling. "We're here to talk about you."

"But I want to talk about the baby!" Paige protested.

"Which means you're still not comfortable talking about yourself. But that's what this time is about. It's time for the two of us talk about how you're doing, and how well you're adjusting."

"I suppose."

Rachel felt her frustration growing with Paige's non-answers, but she turned that frustration into an idea. "Tell you what," she said as she rose from her chair. "I haven't been to the gym today, so why don't we go upstairs, change into our workout clothes, and spend a little time on the treadmills while we talk?"

"Huh?" Paige asked, startled.

"Come on," Rachel urged the girl. "You need to do your exercise for the day, and so do I. We'll kill two birds with one stone. Besides," she continued with a smile, "a change of pace would be fun, and it might help you feel a little less tense."

Paige was silent as the two changed in the locker room. Paige caught herself staring at Rachel. While in the office, Rachel was always impeccably attired, with her hair and makeup done perfectly. Now, though, she was pulling on a sports bra, and had slipped on teal running pants. Paige found it hard to believe that Rachel had had one baby, let alone several. There were only very faint stretch marks, and her abdomen was incredibly flat and toned. Though she was moderately-chested, Rachel's bust was equally toned, absent the sag one would expect from a woman in her mid to late-thirties.

"Come on," Rachel said, smiling with amusement at how the younger girl was gawking at her. "Don't be a slow poke." She pulled on her tight white top, with teal accents that matched her pants, and then pulled her hair into a ponytail behind her. As she fastened it, her arms reaching up behind her head, the tight top clung to her curves, accentuating them.

Paige felt a stab of jealousy, and then anger at herself for even feeling such a thing. Rachel was attractive, and took her fitness seriously. Compared to her, Paige's plain pink pants and white shirt seemed dowdy, even frumpy.

The two women mounted a pair of elliptical trainers, a contrast in both style and emotion. Rachel looked glamorous even in her exercise outfit. Paige, though, seemed plain. Rachel's hair, down and in a ponytail, bounced with energy as she began exercising, the still-curly ends bobbing in time with her pace. Compared to Rachel, Paige's hair didn’t even measure up to plain, at least in Paige's opinion. Where Rachel exuded confidence in her movement on the machine, Paige seemed hesitant.

"Why do you seem more upset than when we came into the locker room?" Rachel asked, having observed Paige's demeanor.

"I dunno," Paige muttered, almost embarrassed to be seen next to Rachel.

The center director was perceptive, which was part of her job of being a counselor. "You know, there are three parts to being attractive."

"Oh?" Paige asked. "What makes you think I want to be attractive?"

A pleasant little laugh emerged through Rachel's knowing smile. "I saw how you were looking at me while we were changing," she said. "Women compare themselves to others all the time, and I noticed that you're slowly picking up the habit."

"Oh." Paige fell silent for a moment. "So, what's the secret?"

Rachel smiled; she'd baited the girl's curiosity. "First, you need to always dress like you're showing off your best features. Dress nicely, not in frumpy or worn clothes. It doesn't have to be evening wear, or designer clothing, but something that compliments your body. Something that you're proud of wearing — like what you wore today. Second, you need to keep your hair and face neat. Not overdone, but neat. Clean and tidy. You don't have to spend hours on makeup, or use tons of hair product, but you want to look presentable, to show off your best features. Based on your appearance, I'd say you've got this one nailed, too."

"And the third?" Paige asked.

Rachel's smile broadened. "That's the one you need to work on the most. You have to have, and display, self-confidence."

"That's kind of hard, isn't it?" Paige stammered.

"Did you know any girls who lacked self-confidence?" Rachel prompted.

"I guess I knew some."

"And how did they appear?"

"I dunno," Paige said as she tried to remember. "I think they seemed timid, or they looked down on themselves."

"Did they present themselves well? Attractive? Confident?"

Paige shook her head slowly. "I suppose not."

"Self-confidence, or lack of it, affects your facial expressions, your posture, your speech — pretty much everything about you. Studies have shown that the same girl, when she displays confidence in herself, is viewed by others as more attractive." Rachel grinned. "As long as she doesn't overdo it." Rachel looked at the girl. "Is that what you want — to be attractive?"

Paige blushed and looked down as she let the elliptical trainer glide to a halt. "I don't know," she answered in a timid voice. "I guess so."

"I guess we need to ask the first question first. Are you going to change back to male after your contract is up?"

"No," came the immediate reply.

"Why not? You'll have saved enough money to start a new life, wherever you want."

"I ... can't." Paige took a deep breath, and it was evident from her stiffening spine that she was dredging up unpleasant memories. "Once, my Mom and grandmother told me that because I liked cooking and sewing so much, I'd make someone a great wife someday. The others were really mean about that, and my brother and sister spread it around school to humiliate me." Paige's jaw tightened. "I hate them for what they did. I can't ever go back to anything like what caused all that crap."

"You can't stay a girl just because of fear or hatred. Those aren't good enough reasons."

"I ... like it," Paige mumbled softly. She wiped at her eyes, which were suddenly moist. "Sometimes, I think they were right. I didn't belong being a boy."

"What they think isn't important to me, and it shouldn't be to you anymore. What's important is how _you_ feel. Do you like seeing a girl's face in the mirror?"

"Sometimes, when I'm alone in Beth's apartment, I like to dress up and put on my makeup and look pretty. I feel ... special. Not like I did when I was a boy."

"Now we're getting somewhere. So why do you suppose you don't feel pretty or special outside the apartment?"

"I don't know."

"You probably feel a lot better about yourself than you did when you were a boy," Rachel speculated, "but you've still got a ways to go. Maybe part of it is because you haven't gotten used to feeling self-confident yet." She could tell that the girl was mulling over her words. "I would say that you probably don't feel as confident in yourself when you leave the apartment."

"Maybe," Paige replied.

"So let's build up your self-confidence, so you can feel special and pretty all the time." Rachel let her machine slow. "Have you been looking at the before and after pictures at least once a day?"

Paige nodded mutely.

"And?"

"I don't look anything like I used to, when I was a guy," Paige said, still sounding unsure of herself.

"So is there any reason for you to worry about being recognized?"

"No. Except ...."

"Except what?" Rachel asked.

"Except for my name. Anything I do, like take the GED test, or get a drivers' license or get a job, I have to use _that name_, and it leaves public records. They could find me, and then they'd all make fun of me for what I've done, and call me a lot of names."

"Did you know that we can help you with that? The Foundation has a team of lawyers, and they've dealt with cases like yours before. It's kind of like a witness protection program. They can help you get a permanent name change, and have the court records sealed to protect you from harassment or physical or mental harm."

Paige stopped and looked up at Rachel's words, her eyes wide and her jaw dropped with surprise. "You ... can do that?"

"You'll have to meet with one of our senior psychiatrists — we'll have her fly down from headquarters, and an independent psychologist. You'll have to take a few more tests just to make sure we have the evidence the judge will need for sealing the records and for granting the permanent name and gender change, but yes, we can get started on that first thing Monday morning if you'd like."

"Okay." Paige showed enthusiasm for the first time that day.

"The tests and counseling sessions are going to be pretty long. We don't change a person's gender records and name without being absolutely sure that they're serious."

"How long will it take?" Paige's voice had an uncertain edge again.

Rachel shook her head. "It's hard to tell. It'll take at least a week of two-a-day meetings with the senior counselor, plus the gender identity tests. But because of the history of severe physical punishment — which is abuse in this state — and your emotional distress, we should be able to get a preliminary hearing within a couple of days after the psychologist has her report. After that, it'll depend on getting a court date for a sealed hearing. The abuse will help here, too. It tends to expedite things."

Relief seemed to wash over Paige, relaxing her worried features and muscles. Her posture eased, and the worry wrinkles on her brow vanished.

"Since we're starting the subject of gender identity change, let's talk about another part of being a girl. Sex."

Paige's jaw dropped again. "Sex?"

"It's a part of life, and the psychologist and test are going to probe that area very deeply. So we might as well get started on the discussion. Have you thought about the differences in sex between guys and girls?"

"Uh, not really."

"When you were a boy, did you do any self-experimentation?"

Paige blushed. "You mean, did I jerk off?" She saw Rachel's smile. "Yeah," she admitted softly. "I mean, what guy hasn't?"

"Did you ever have sex? With a girl, or a guy?" Paige shook her head. "How about since you've changed? Have you explored your new sex at all?" Paige dropped her gaze to the floor. Her crimson cheeks more than answered Rachel's question.

**********

Operation Rescue: In Plain Sight - Chapter 4
(To be continued)

A young man, feeling totally unwanted by his family, runs away. He needs to find a way to survive, and eventually, he stumbles into an Op Rescue clinic.
Paige is taking steps to overcome her past, but not everything is working out as planned. Meanwhile, her pregnancy is progessing well, and she has a new friend in her mentor, someone very familiar with what she's doing.

Operation Rescue: In Plain Sight - Prologue
Operation Rescue: In Plain Sight - Chapter 1
Operation Rescue: In Plain Sight - Chapter 2
Operation Rescue: In Plain Sight - Chapter 3

[email protected]

********************************************************************

This story is copyright by the author. It is protected by licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Paige felt edgy as she and Beth navigated their way through the mall. After several sessions with Rachel, Paige had announced that she wanted to get a few more 'nice' outfits, and could Beth please pick them up for her? Beth's response was that Paige would have to do her own shopping, but that Beth would be more than happy to go with her. Thus, late one Tuesday morning when Beth wasn't working, when the number of shoppers at the mall would be minimal, Beth and Paige began their task — updating Paige's wardrobe to be a little cuter and sexier. Paige was leery, but Beth and Rachel were pushing her to dress in a more daring and fashionable way. Beth reminded her that she didn't want to fade into the woodwork, which was reinforcement of the discussions Paige and Rachel had.

Paige complained in nearly every store that there just weren't any fashionable clothes for a pregnant teenager. They were, in her words, all 'boring outfits for frumpy older women,' which elicited a hearty laugh from Beth. Being just over six months along, Paige was showing — a little. She was fighting a constant battle not only with Tina and the medical and exercise staff, but also with her appetite, so when Beth suggested lunch, Paige was torn. She was hungry; these days it seemed that she was always a little hungry. At the same time, she wanted to stay fit, and to not be fussed at by the clinic staff. On top of that, Paige was still visibly cautious in public.

"Maybe the salad place?" Paige answered, glancing around the food court of the mall. Most places didn't have interior seating, but the soup and salad restaurant was more like a real restaurant within the mall, with an enclosed dining area that isolated it from the hustle and bustle — and background din — of the rest of the mall. The bit of privacy made it a very popular establishment at the mall.

"I bet you'd prefer a nice, juicy burger, though," Beth teased.

Paige nodded, blushing. "That does sound good, but what I'd really like is a big plate of teriyaki chicken."

"You've had teriyaki, what, three times this since last Friday?"

"Four," Paige confessed with a sheepish grin.

"That must be your craving, then," Beth chuckled. "It beats pickles with chocolate syrup, like I had."

"Yuck!"

"Yeah, _now_ it sounds disgusting, but at the time, I couldn't get enough of it!" Beth put one hand on a hip. "And as you can tell, I ate a little too much, and I never could get all those extra pounds off."

Ten minutes later, the two were seated at a small table in the salad restaurant, their shopping bags hanging on a third chair. They were conversing lightly, with Beth being careful to keep the topics away from areas that she knew were sensitive to Paige. Unexpectedly, a voice called out, "Beth!" Both women turned to see the interloper, a concerned look suddenly appearing on Paige's face.

A woman about Beth's age stepped briskly toward their table, her short brown hair bobbing around her shoulders with the same enthusiasm as the woman expressed in her voice. She looked like a slightly rounded, matronly woman, bubbling with energy. "Hi, Beth," she repeated. Without being asked, she pulled a chair from a nearby vacant table, and joined Beth and Paige. "I haven't seen you at art class for a few weeks." She put her arm lightly on Paige's as she turned to the girl. "You should her paintings," the woman said brightly. "She makes the rest of us look like amateurs!" She seemed to notice Paige for the first time. "Oh, where are my manners?" she chided herself. She extended a hand. "I'm Sonia. Beth and I have been friends since ..., well, since seventh grade! And you are?"

"I'm Paige. I'm ...."

"Paige is my god-daughter," Beth said quickly to provide cover for the girl. "She's in town visiting for a bit, so she's staying with me." Beth saw relief wash over Paige at Beth's impromptu explanation to avoid questions about her identity.

Sonia smiled graciously. "I'm pleased to meet you." She looked back at Beth. "Does she like art? If she does, you two could come to the class together." She looked at Paige, her eyes sparkling. "There are a few kids your age," she said, and then she lowered her voice conspiratorially. "And there are a couple of college boys who are, well, let's just say that if I was nineteen or twenty, I'd be trying to attract their attention!"

Beth laughed nervously; she knew that Sonia was prattling on about things that were likely to upset Paige. "Sonia, since your divorce, you're on the prowl for any young man you can find!" she teased.

"So I'm a cougar. Sue me!" Sonia giggled in a hushed voice. She turned back to Paige. "I really wish I was young again, and pretty like you are, dear," she commented wistfully. "I wouldn't make the same mistake I made the first time around, let me tell you! I think I'd spend more time looking for the right guy, and using my looks and charm to have fun while I was looking."

"You were always looking for fun, even back when we were in high school!" Beth observed.

"True. Too true." She glanced at her watch. "I'd love to stay and chat some more," Sonia said as she stood, "but I'm supposed to meet Ellen in a few minutes. We're taking some ballroom dance lessons," she said with a smile. "And the instructors? Wow! They're pretty hot." She smiled and lowered her voice. "Maybe a pair of cougars will be lucky hunting today! I hope I see you at art class soon. And bring your god-daughter! She'll love it!" With that, Sonia turned and flounced away, just as she'd come.

Paige stared after her for a moment. "She's a little ...." She made a face, not quite knowing what she wanted to say.

"She's a bit of an airhead," Beth completed the thought. "She always was flighty, and a bit promiscuous, too." She leaned forward and lowered her voice. "It was her fooling around that led to her divorce."

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"For covering for me.

"What are god-mothers for?" She saw the thoughtful expression on Paige's face. "Penny for your thoughts."

"I was just thinking about what she said. That I was pretty."

Beth put her hand reassuringly on Paige's. "She wasn't kidding. You really are pretty." She watched the girl consider her words for a few moments. "Does it help to know that she didn't have any idea of who you used to be? That she assumed you were always a girl, because your appearance is completely unlike what it used to be?"

Paige nodded. "I guess so. Yeah, it does. It helps." Inwardly, Paige was beaming. She'd passed a major test at passing for a girl, and had been complimented on being pretty. It was one of the few times in her life that she could remember receiving such a compliment. And Beth was being wonderful to her. She felt — peaceful.

**********

Intimidated was the sensation Paige had as she sat in a chair, flanked by Beth and Rachel, with Morris Foundation lawyers on either end of the row of five chairs. The arrangement seemed unwieldy, like a rugby scrum around a too-small desk. Across the desk, in a tall, dark-leather chair, sat a stern-faced older man, bald except for a rim of white hair circling behind his ears. He was presently peering through his reading glasses at a sheaf of papers in his hands. When he paused to peer over his glasses at Paige, his piercing stare made her want to cower under her seat, but with Beth's hand on hers for reassurance, she merely gulped and looked nervously back at the judge. He resumed reading the document he held.

After a couple of minutes of silence, the man looked back over his glasses at Paige. "This is a rather unusual request," he commented dryly.

The lawyer to Rachel's left nodded and spoke up. "Yes, your honor," he acknowledged to the man behind the desk — a judge, no less, "but precedent does allow such requests to be granted. The entire federal witness protection plan operates under such conditions. This state has similar statutes to protect the identities of those whom the state considers to be endangered if records of the legal proceedings were to be released."

"I'm aware of the precedents and statues," the judge reminded the attorney in a firm voice. "Your brief made them perfectly clear."

"The conditions under which our client lived constitute child abuse under the law. It would therefore be considered psychologically harmful to have open records that would allow her parents to locate and contact her," the other lawyer took over the line of argument.

"Your client is still legally male," the judge reminded them. "No court proceedings have changed that fact of _his_ identity, regardless of current physical appearance."

"Your honor," Rachel spoke up, feeling the need to interject something. The Foundation attorneys both shot warning glances her way. "In the eyes of the medical field, our client is fully, functionally female in every regard. She is carrying a child, which is impossible for a male to do."

The judge sighed. "Ms. McKnight, I am aware of the medical work your clinic performs, as well as the type of medical procedures done to your clients." He had an exasperated look on his face, as if he'd dealt with Rachel many times before. "It is well known to this court that the Morris Foundation is shattering long-standing precedents across the country with regard to identity and gender. You seem to have a penchant for bringing ... interesting ... cases before this court."

"Yes, your honor," Rachel replied without a hint of shame or remorse. "And this court has dealt with previous requests in a professional, unbiased manner, which the Foundation and all of our clients appreciate."

"This case is ... unique ... in many ways. First, the request for sealed records, even of this hearing, is unusual. The request for a name and gender change being sealed, as if we were dealing with someone in the witness protection program, is unusual." He turned to look at Paige, still looking over the top of his reading glasses. "And there is the case of a missing minor boy, which is still open, according to the police department. There remains the possibility that the case could become active again, causing an expenditure of manpower and taxpayer dollars, following leads that suddenly vanish as a result of this court action. And as the records would be sealed, it is not possible to officially close the case. Your family would never know what happened to you," he admonished Paige.

Paige nodded firmly, trying to control her emotions. "I don't want them to know," she said firmly. "Not after what they did."

The judge looked back at Rachel. "Teenagers have a habit of ... exaggerating things," he said, choosing his words carefully to minimize the implication that Paige might have been lying.

"Yes, your honor, we understand that," one of the Foundation lawyers said, taking control of their presentation. "And in the submitted documents, there is the report from an independent assessment of the petitioner by Dr. Thomas Geerson, in which the psychologically traumatic events are stated."

"And that's the sum total of your corroborating evidence?" the judge asked skeptically.

"Your honor," the second Foundation lawyer said, "the court is well aware that in cases of emotional abuse and psychological trauma, there is seldom any physical evidence. With regard to the physical abuse events in early childhood, the description of that abuse is consistent with excessive force in disciplining a child, which frequently does not leave physical evidence. The burden of proof in child abuse cases is lower by design, based on the state's interest in protecting said child."

"Sonny," the judge said, irritated, "you don't need to remind the court of well-established laws of this state."

"I'm sorry, your honor," the lawyer quickly apologized, chastened by the elder jurist.

"That's okay," the judge dismissed the apology — and his verbal reprimand — with a wave of his hand. "Let's dispense with the legal formality and just get to the heart of the matter. The major question is whether the interests of the petitioner outweigh the concern of the state with regard to the still-open investigation of the disappearance of a minor child." He looked directly at Paige and made a production out of taking off his reading glasses. "In your own words, why should I grant your petition?"

Paige's eyes widened, and she turned to Rachel, seeking reassurance or guidance.

Rachel patted her hand again. "It's okay. Just tell the judge, in your own words."

Paige gulped, and then slowly turned back to the judge. "I don't want them to _ever_ find me, or bother me again." She started to choke up as she struggled against a flood of bitter memories. "I don’t want them to ever hurt me again!"

"You're no longer a minor," the judge commented, sounding a little less harsh, and a little more grandfatherly. "You don't have to ask their permission for anything, or see them, if you don’t want to."

"But ... all they've ever done is hurt me!" Paige retorted, struggling but failing to control the emotion in her voice. "All my life, all they ever did was to make me feel useless. All they did was to ignore _me_ as a person. They made it clear that I was just a spare child that they didn't want." Her voice started cracking at the surge of unpleasant memories. "Everything I tried to do for myself, they'd find a way to hurt me. They'll keep hurting me if they get a chance! I know they will. They hate me!" She wiped at the tears that were trickling out of her eyes.

The judge looked almost sympathetic as Paige fought the demons which had haunted her for years.

"Your honor," one of the Foundation attorneys interjected, "it is clear that the petitioner suffered psychological abuse at the hands of her family. It is also clear, in the opinions of a licensed psychologist and a licensed psychiatrist, that the abuse was significant, and the petitioner fears greatly for her emotional health and safety. Under the circumstances ...."

"Under the circumstances, and with the evidence presented, the court should rule in favor of the petition for sealed records of the name and gender change hearing. Yes, I know," the judge completed his sentence as if bored. He looked at Paige, who appeared a little frightened of him. He glanced at the court recorder who was taking record of the session. "Based on the evidence provided to the court, the petitioner's request is granted. The records of the hearing for name and gender change are hereby sealed under the authority of this court. Further, based on the documentation provided, a separate hearing for the petition of name and gender change is not necessary. Those petitions are approved by this court as well." He put some papers back in a folder, and then smiled. "Congratulations, Miss Fulton. It's a girl."

It wasn't clear who was more stunned — Paige, or the two Foundation lawyers. Rachel smiled knowingly, as if she'd always expected the outcome that the judge had just granted.

**********

Paige got off the bus at the designated spot. She wore a backpack, and was dressed stylishly, which was difficult since she was eight months pregnant. Other students, some older than her, disembarked from the bus as well. Paige noticed that the glances she was receiving from the girls seemed catty and harsh, while the boys looked at her warily, as if she had a communicable disease.

Breathing deeply and exhaling heavily, Paige began to plod toward one of the buildings of the community college campus. These days, her stride was less a walk and more a waddle. It was her pregnancy, Paige decided, which made the boys fearful and the girls suspicious. The fact that she was pregnant was a big deterrent. The girls, though, stared at her with icy gazes which betrayed their thoughts - Paige was a tramp and a careless slut. Otherwise, she wouldn't be pregnant. And so it was that, even among her peer group, Paige was all alone — just like the old days living in the hut.

Paige had to correct herself; she wasn't alone. She had Rachel and Tina and Beth, and her new mentor Tommi Sue. All were wonderful to her — supportive and caring and friendly, and that made a world of difference. With that comforting thought, Paige waddled into a classroom.

Six hours, two short breaks, and a longer lunch break later, Paige walked uncomfortably back to the bus stop, running once more the gauntlet of stares of disapproval. Because some classes had ended, the bus stop was crowded, and the benches were occupied. Paige stared at the guys sitting on the bench, meeting the harsh glare of one tough-looking boy. She decided to not look away, but to return his stare, meeting his unspoken challenge head-on. After a few moments, the guy turned his eyes away from Paige and stared at someone else. Paige smiled to herself. She'd just bested a would-be tough guy without lifting a finger or saying a word. Maybe Rachel was right, she thought. Maybe her self-confidence was coming back — if it had ever truly gone. Or if she'd ever truly had any, in which case she was developing something that had been long missing.

In short order, a bus arrived, and when the doors opened, some students exited, while those waiting at the stop began to file on. Paige boarded the bus when it was her turn, and discovered to her dismay that all the seats were taken. With a heavy sigh, she reached up and grasped a handhold, resigning herself to an uncomfortable ride back to the apartment.

"Young man!" The voice was sharp, attracting attention from everywhere on the bus. Paige turned her head to the source of the loud interruption. The voice belonged an older woman, probably sixty or sixty-five, with white hair and a pleasant appearance. At the moment, though, a scowl and piercing eyes dominated her appearance. She was staring at the one of the seated boys, who appeared, from the way the other boys were interacting with him, that he was the leader of the group. "Are you blind, or just rude?" Her voice was deliberately loud and penetrating, to publicly make a statement. The boy realized that she was talking to him, and turned to glare at the old woman. It was the same boy from the bench at the bus stop. "I said, are you blind, or just rude? Can't you see that this young lady is pregnant?"

"Huh?"

"If you had any manners, you'd offer your seat to the young lady. Unless you're a self-centered jackass," she chided the boy sternly.

The boy stared at the woman, trying like he had earlier, to make his opponent flinch. He failed, and her determined glare made him look away. He was obviously not used to people challenging his tough-guy punk appearance or attitude. With a snort of derision, he stood, and his friends with him, and they walked toward the back of the bus.

"Thanks," Paige said softly as she sat down.

"Twerps like that need to learn a few manners," the older woman said with a laugh. "How far along are you?" She was staring at the round bulge in Paige's abdomen, which, thanks to closely-supervised diet and exercise, was shaped like a volleyball under her shirt.

"Almost eight months," Paige answered softly, trying not to attract attention. Given the volume and tone of the older woman's outburst against the rude young men, that wasn't possible, but Paige couldn't help but try.

The rest of the bus trip was filled with pleasant conversation with the grandmotherly woman. She wasn't nosy about the circumstances of Paige's pregnancy, which was a great relief to the girl. She'd learned, in previous encounters in public, that not everyone approved of the Morris-Henderson process for rescuing unwanted fetuses, and that the subject invoked much passionate, even heated, debate. She was so absorbed in the conversation that she almost missed her stop. After a quick exchange of pleasantries, and with the older woman noting that she'd probably see Paige often, as that was a bus she usually took, Paige stepped from the bus. It was a short walk to the apartment. She eschewed the stairs, which wasn't surprising, given her condition, and rode the elevator instead.

The backpack full of books and writing materials crashed with a heavy thud on the apartment floor as Paige shrugged it off her shoulder. A few steps put her in front of a sofa, and she let herself sink into its comfortable cushions. "I'll be glad when that class is done on Friday."

Beth peeked up from the stove, where she was cooking dinner for the two. "Oh? Rough day?"

Paige shook her head. "Not really. It's just so long. Six hours of intense study every day is really tough."

Beth put down her cooking utensils and walked to the sitting area. "Why didn't you take the test two months ago? I think you were ready."

"I ... I needed more studying so I could be more confident."

Beth smiled. "You're not a good liar," she teased the girl. "You wanted to take the test under your new name, so there weren't any records of your having gotten your GED."

Paige laughed. "That's exactly what Suzie and Rachel both said, too."

"Next, you're going to try to tell me that the three of us are conspiring, right?"

"No. I don't need to tell you, because you all know that you know it's true!" She let her head fall back against a pillow on the arm of the sofa, sighing contentedly. "There's one thing about the class that's weird, though."

"What's that?"

Paige frowned. "Some of the guys look at me funny," she explained. It's ... weird having guys look at me."

Beth suppressed a chuckle. "Well, you are a pretty girl, so it's natural that they'd stare. And your pregnancy probably has them curious."

"About what?" Paige asked, and then her eyes widened as her mind answered the question. "Oh." She gave a disgusted look. "That's ... gross!" She wrinkled her nose a little more. "Do you really think that _they_ think that just because I'm pregnant, I'm easy?"

Beth shrugged. "Some do. You should know how guys are."

Paige scowled at Beth, uncomfortable with the implication. "No, I don't know. I spent most of my teenage years as an outcast, remember?" she said sarcastically.

"I'm sorry," Beth apologized quickly. "It's just that, well, you _were_ a boy, but I never have been. I have a lot less experience at how guys think than you do." She saw the girl's expression soften. "I guess I figured that you would have heard locker-room talk in gym class and such."

Paige hung her head sheepishly. "Yeah, I guess I did," she said. "Mostly, I thought it was embarrassing the way the guys talked. You know — who was easy, making out, French kissing, sex, oral sex — all of that stuff."

"So you know that some guys _would_ think you were easy because you were pregnant."

Paige nodded. "Yeah, I guess so." She looked up, a defiant expression on her face. "But I'm not what they think I am. I'm not going to do any of that ... stuff!"

Beth smiled. "I wouldn't think less of you if you did experiment, you know," she reassured the girl. "It's natural. Most girls do, at some time in their lives. All I'd say is, if you do, you need to be careful."

**********

Suzie leaped up from her desk and hugged Paige. "I hear congratulations are in order," she said warmly.

Paige blushed. "Yeah, I guess."

Suzie wasn't put off by her modesty. "It's a pretty big accomplishment! You should be proud. You caught up over two years of high school in about three months, and now you've got your diploma. That's impressive." She smiled. "What does that tell you?"

"That high school is mostly a waste of time," Paige volunteered with a smile.

Suzie couldn't stifle her guffaw at Paige's accurate, if distorted, logic. "I meant about you, silly! I'd say that it shows you're a smart, determined young lady."

"Don't forget very pregnant," Paige giggled as she cradled her enlarged belly with her hands.

"Let's go sit down so you can rest. I've been there — I know what it's like to be pregnant." Suzie led Paige back toward a break room, where the two sat down. "Would you like some juice, or a fruit cup? Yogurt?"

"I'll have some strawberry yogurt if you have any," Paige replied. "And a bottle of water."

Suzie retrieved something for herself and Paige's requested food and beverage. "What brings you here today? Gym, or Rachel?"

Paige smiled. "You don't know? I figured you knew _everything_ that happened around here! Actually, it's both, _and_ a checkup with Tina. I have an appointment with Rachel, first, though."

"I'll just pop around the corner and let Rachel know you're here, then," Suzie said.

"No need," Rachel called from the doorway. "I caught a glimpse of you two in the hallway, so I knew Paige was already here."

Paige put on a pout. "I just got comfortable, and got something to eat, and now I have to move again?"

Rachel laughed lightly. "If you'd like, I can go get my notepad, and we can meet right here. You know I don't like to always be formal or stick to a boring routine."

Paige smiled. "Yeah, I know. If you want my opinion, this is better than the gym."

"What, you don't like getting a two-fer? Exercise your mind and your body all at once?" Suzie said with feigned shock.

"It's hard enough to exercise without having to think about the questions Rachel is asking."

"Since I'm working on my counseling degree, would you mind if I stay for the discussion?" Suzie asked.

"Sure, why not?" Paige said with a shrug.

A few minutes later, Rachel returned with both a laptop and her notepad, closed the door behind herself, and then sat down and took a long sip from the cup of coffee Suzie had poured for her. She purred contentedly, her eyes half-closed as she reveled in the taste of the warm beverage. "So, Paige," she began, "why do you seem so insufferably pleased with yourself?"

Paige's eyes widened. "Me? What gives you that idea?"

"Because you're grinning like the cat that ate the canary," Rachel answered. She thought for a moment. "Did you pass?" Paige's grin was all the answer Rachel and Suzie needed. "Congratulations," Rachel said, scooting herself across couch to give Paige a hug.

"Now what?" Suzie asked.

"Beth and I have talked about going to community college to get an associate's degree in broadcasting. The fall term starts about two months after I'm due," Paige answered simply. "I'm torn, though. Part of me really wants to do something like that, but part of me is scared silly."

"I was hoping you'd pick something in health care," Suzie suggested.

Paige laughed. "You and Tina and everyone else on the medical staff." She noticed that Rachel seemed tense. "What's up?" Paige asked.

"You've made remarkable progress in the last month and a half. Your eyes have some sparkle in them now, like you're enjoying life."

"Yeah," Paige said softly, almost to herself. "Yeah, I guess I am. How about that!"

"You're pretty well past your fears," Rachel said solemnly, "but there's something that you need to see."

"Oh?" Paige's relaxed state vanished in an instant, replaced by a tone of suspicion.

Rachel handed the laptop to Paige.

As she gazed at the computer display, Paige's eyes showed her surprise, and then, slowly, her expression hardened and her lips pursed tightly together. "Why this? Why now?"

"Paige, I didn't think you knew about these," Rachel said softly. "You needed to know. Maybe they hurt you, but I'm sure it wasn't on purpose. Parents are amateurs, and since every child is different, things that work for one don't work for another. Your absence hurt them, maybe as much as they hurt you."

"No." Paige's voice was firm. Despite that, she couldn't help but thumb through page after page of 'missing person' notices that had been posted over more than two years. Despite her profession of anger, she'd been surprised at the reward that was offered for just _information_ about Pete's whereabouts.

"Paige," Suzie chimed in, resting her hand lightly on the girl's arm, "we all know that they hurt you. But, from the looks of this, it wasn't anything malicious. It was through ignorance. It was because they didn't know. Your disappearance hurt them."

"After what they did to me, I won't give them the satisfaction," Paige said stubbornly. Rachel could see, though, that the girl's eyes were misty, and her voice cracked with emotion. For several long seconds, Paige stared at one display, at the picture of a fifteen-year-old boy who had run away. From the number of ads that she'd seen, she was having real doubts about her conviction that her parents hadn't cared, but that she _had_ been missed.

"Why now?" Paige wailed as tears overcame her. "I ... felt good about myself. This is .,. confusing!"

"Because you've been acting out of fear and anger and hatred," Rachel replied softly, her hand resting reassuringly on Paige's arm. "That's not healthy."

"You need to confront that anger," Suzie added. "You need to understand it, so you can _really_ move forward."

Paige sat in silence for a few moments. "Now ... I wonder ... that they're still worried."

"Imagine what it's like for a parent when a child disappears. They probably worry that you're in trouble ... or worse."

Suzie nodded. "There's no closure for them. They might be living with as much anxiety as you — but their fears are probably that something really bad happened to you."

"You always say you weren't valued by your family," Rachel continued. "These posters tell a different story."

"Why? If I was so valued, why did they do the stuff they did? Why did they hurt me so much?"

Rachel shook her head. "Maybe they didn't know."

Paige stared at the last ad displayed on the computer. She thought about what Rachel and Suzie had said. Slowly, she realized that they were right — she needed to resolve her anger toward her family, and at the same time, to remove the doubt that the posters had just introduced. "I could ... tell them ... that I'm alive?"

Rachel was stunned by Paige's suggestion. It was far more than she'd expected from the girl. "I ... suppose."

"Do you think ... that they'd recognize my voice?"

Suzie shook her head. "Not now. Not after the voice lessons and training."

"Would ... would they recognize me?"

Rachel's eyes widened in surprise. "Paige," she began, "what are you thinking?" She was alarmed at where the girl was taking the conversation — and afraid of what the outcome might be.

"Maybe, I ... I could meet _her_," Paige said softly. "That way, I could see her face, and know if she was lying again or not."

"Paige, that's _way_ too risky! You're not ...."

"I'm not getting better until I get past the anger, right?" Paige demanded. "That’s what you keep saying."

"But not like _this_!" Suzie objected. "This is a little ... radical, don't you think?"

"You keep saying that I don't look anything like I did," Paige countered. "And there's no way a girl who's as pregnant as I am," she added, rubbing her belly absently, "could ever be mistaken for him, right?"

"I suppose," Rachel winced.

"If I met with her, and told her that, uh, I'd seen Pete and knew he was alive, then at least I wouldn't ever have to feel guilty about them worrying, would I?"

"Paige, that's a very risky plan. It doesn't sound like a good reason to risk another panic attack."

"I _need_ to get past this," Paige said firmly. The anger and resentment toward her family was a constant irritant, but there was still a tiny seed of hope that maybe, Pete _had_ been loved, after all. Though it was faint, and had always been overshadowed by anger and hatred, a tiny spark remained of belief that her family really did care. "If I _do_ meet with her," Paige continued, "I want you and Suzie and Beth there with me — for support."

Rachel shook her head again. "I _really_ don't like your plan," she commented with a frown. "But I also know how stubborn you can be, so I guess ...."

Paige grinned. "I'm not stubborn," she countered briskly. "I'm just ... determined."

**********

"Tell me about how _you_ felt rejected," Paige implored Tommi Sue.

Tommi swallowed the bite of apple turnover that she was eating. "You're as bad as my friend Jillian," she said with a smile. "If I'd have let her, she'd have bought me coffee and pastries every day we were in class!" She washed down the pastry with a sip of juice. "My biological father was a big man, a coal miner, just like the stereotype. He was very disappointed in me, since I wasn't large, and I didn't play sports. I always felt resentment from him, to the very day he died. My mom resented me because she couldn't get a degree and take care of two, then three, children. Even on her deathbed, she was mean and cruel to me, because she blamed me for the way she was stuck."

"That's harsh!"

"That's not the half of it. My ... home ... was in coal country in West Virginia. When the dictionary defines 'redneck', it's got a class picture from my high school!" Tommi said with a chuckle. "Once word got out about what I'd done — with the procedure and pregnancy and everything, I couldn't ever go back. It wouldn't be safe."

"Wow!"

"My parents, though, more than make up for that. They're the most wonderful people I ever met — apart from Erica, of course."

"Your parents? But ... you said ...." Paige was confused.

"Katie's - my college roommate - parents adopted my sister and me. I barely even think of my biological parents as being parents anymore. Mom and Dad are my parents."

"Is it something about the program that attracts people like you and me?" Paige couldn’t help but ask.

Tommi just shrugged with a smile as she took another sip of juice.

"What would you do ... if you were me, I mean? Would you go through with it?"

"My sister Sara once told me that I had to reach out, even if I was rebuffed, because I wasn't like them. She was right. I got rejected again, but I was finally able to let go of my anger so it didn't control me."

"So you think I should meet with her."

Tommi grinned. "I didn't say that. I only told you what I did. You have to decide for yourself. What worked for me won't work for everyone." She shook her head sadly. "Sorry, but the burden of deciding is on you."

"If you were me ...?" Paige began.

"I'm not," Tommi answered again. "But if I were, yes," she continued, a sad look in her eyes, "I think you're right. I think you need to try. If it were me, I'd have to know, in my heart, that I did what I could, and that anything left wasn't my fault." She paused, and her expression got grim. "But don't get your hopes up for anything miraculous," she warned. "You're as likely to get more rejection as you are to get something positive." She pushed back her juice cup. "Now, you told me you wanted to do some shopping. I'm going to hold you to that."

**********

Beth held Paige's hand as they walked into the mall. Paige was so nervous she was trembling, and Beth's reassuring grasp helped her steel herself for the task she was undertaking. As they entered the food court, Paige saw Rachel and Suzie sitting at a table; both gave her reassuring nods.

"I'm not sure ... I can go through with this," Paige squeaked nervously. She glanced around, and suddenly stiffened. "There she is."

Beth followed Paige's stare, and saw a woman sitting alone at a table. From Paige's description, she half-expected a red devil-woman with horns and fangs. Instead, the woman looked sad and lonely. Based on Paige's age, the woman should have been in her mid forties; but with sunken eyes, worry wrinkles on her forehead, and some premature graying, she looked like she was fifteen to twenty years older than that. She was thin, even gaunt, and she appeared frail.

"I ... I can't do this," Paige whispered insistently to Beth.

"It's your decision," Beth countered.

Paige looked at Beth, and saw reassurance in her eyes. She glanced at Rachel and Suzie, and saw their looks of support. Most of all, she heard her mentor's words echoing in her brain — she had to try. Paige took a deep breath, visibly steeling herself.

"Would you like me to go with you?" Beth asked, already knowing the answer.

Paige nodded. Without further words, the two walked toward the woman.

"Excuse me," Paige stammered, her voice quavering with her jangled nerves, "are you Mrs. Franklin?" Her hand would have been trembling worse but for Beth holding it reassuringly.

Mrs. Franklin looked up. She looked frightened as she nodded imperceptibly. "Are you ... the girl that left the message on my phone?" she asked.

Paige glanced at Beth, and felt a reassuring squeeze. "Yes, ma'am," she said softly.

"You ... you know something ... about my son?" Mrs. Franklin asked, her voice trembling. Beth knew that she was terrified that she was going to hear bad news.

"I ... I saw a guy at ... at the ... at the dance club," Paige croaked. "You know the one — the favorite hangout spot for kids under twenty-one?"

"How do you know it was my son?" Mrs. Franklin was wary, unwilling to get her hopes up. "Did you talk to him?"

Paige forced herself to remain calm, and to shrug her shoulders. "A couple of us were talking with him. You know how it is — teens get together and talk as a group. So I didn't directly talk to him. But there was something about him that stuck in my head for some reason."

"How ... how do you know it was him?" Mrs. Franklin sounded like she was forcing herself to not get her hopes up on such flimsy evidence.

"A couple of days ago, I saw one of the missing person sites while I was browsing the web. Something seemed familiar about the one entry you posted — I knew I'd see the face." She shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "It took a bit for me to remember, though."

"Are you sure?" Mrs. Franklin seemed to be getting her hopes up, albeit reluctantly.

"Pretty sure."

Relief flooded visibly over Mrs. Franklin. "Oh, thank God!" she said as tears gushed forth. "We ... we spent so many years worrying ... that something had happened to him." She wiped at her tears. "Was he ... okay? Did he look okay?"

"I guess," Paige answered hesitantly. "Like I said, I didn't talk to him, and it was only a few minutes." She was becoming convinced that Mrs. Franklin had no idea that she was sitting across the table from her former son. It helped steady her jangled nerves.

"Can you tell me anything else? What he's doing? Anything?" She sounded desperate for more information. She saw Paige shake her head. "At least ...." She shook her head as she wiped at her tears. "I'm sorry. It's just ... overwhelming. We hadn't given up on him, but after this long ...." She let her gaze drop to her hands atop the table. "I don't know how many times we've had to go to the morgue to see if an ... unidentified ... body ... was Peter!"

Paige stiffened as her mom continued to talk. She was completely unmoved by her mom's emotional display, or the words she spoke.

Mrs. Franklin shook her head. "I ... we ... really don't know why he ran away. We just don't know. We had a good, loving home. We all loved him very much. I ... don't understand."

Paige stood suddenly. "I can't tell you anything else," she said stiffly.

Mrs. Franklin looked up at the girl. "Thank you for telling me what you do know. But if you do see him again, would you please tell him that we want him to come home?"

"Yeah." From her tone of voice, she could have easily dismissively said 'whatever'. Without a further word, she turned and walked quickly away.

It took a bit for Suzie, Beth, and Rachel to catch up to Paige, who was striding out of the mall at a very rapid pace. "Wait up, Paige," Suzie called out to her.

Paige stopped and turned. Her face was a mask of anger, surprising the three women. "They don't have a clue what they did to me!" she snarled. "Not a single fucking clue!"

"Why don't we go straight to my office to talk," Rachel suggested. She couldn't hide her disappointment in how the meeting went, nor in herself for allowing Paige to meet with her mom.

**********

Paige sat on the couch, still stewing from the meeting with her mom, and then the meeting with Rachel, Suzie, and Beth. Despite Tommi's warning, Paige had let herself have a _little_ hope. But her mother's cluelessness about why Pete had run away was too much for Paige to accept.

"Your family isn't perfect," Beth said again, trying to elicit some response from the girl. "Parents can't see or know everything. It's part of being human." Paige just sat, glaring at the television. "Did you ever tell them how you felt?" Beth asked, exasperated.

"They never listened," Paige answered gruffly.

"Well, then, why don't you tell them now? Get everything off your chest, so to speak."

"What, walk up and say, 'Hi. I'm Peter, and here's why I hate you.'?" She snorted derisively. "Yeah, like they'd believe that, or even if they did, it wouldn't help. It never did before."

Beth clenched her teeth for a moment so she wouldn't blurt out the first response she had, which was that Paige was acting like a brat. "You could always e-mail them. Their e-mail address is on all their notices."

"And have them trace it back here? I know how much you can find just from an e-mail address!" Paige retorted.

"I'm sure Charlotte down at the office could set up something so it stays anonymous. She's a whiz at computers and stuff, and we've had to use anonymous e-mails from time to time." She thought she saw Paige's determination waver. "At least you can write the note that you'd _like_ to send. Even if you never send it, you'll get it off your chest."

"You're not going to let up on me, are you?" Paige demanded.

"No. You can't sit on the couch and stew. It's been two days, and you haven't done anything apart from sitting there feeling sorry for yourself."

"Fine! I'll write the stupid letter then, if it'll get you off my back."

Rachel gave her a reproving look. "Paige," she admonished the girl, speaking volumes of her disapproval merely by her tone of voice.

"And I'll check with Charlotte to find out how you can send it. Would you like to be able to receive any replies?" Beth added.

"No!" Paige snapped. "I don't want to hear from them!"

"Okay," Beth answered. She knew that Paige would eventually become curious, if for no reason than to read their reply to her note explaining why she left.

Later that afternoon, Beth sat at her home computer exchanging e-mails with the office. Charlotte was providing her instructions as to how to send, and receive, anonymous e-mails. Paige walked up silently and slid a printed page onto Beth's keyboard. Beth interrupted her train of thought and picked up the page, turning to look at Paige. The girl, however, was already going to her brooding spot on the couch.

Beth started to read the page, and the further she read, the further her jaw hung in disbelief. Finally, she finished reading, and turned. "You want to send _this_?" she asked, astonished. The note Paige had typed was business-like in tone, and brutal in its detailed cataloguing of her family's offenses. No-one who received such a note would think it had even the tiniest shred of warmth or affection. It was dripping with venomous hatred.

Paige didn't look away from the television. "Yes."

Beth sighed, exasperated with the girl's behavior. In retrospect, Paige's plan appeared to have backfired completely. Any progress that Paige had made toward ridding herself of the demons had been set back by the memories stirred by the meeting. It hadn't helped.

Beth realized instinctively that sending the note at that moment, when that Paige had been inflamed by anger when writing it, would be a mistake. Paige needed time to calm down so she could think rationally think about the note before she sent it. And Beth knew that she'd have to urge Paige to give Rachel a copy. If the girl wouldn't, then Beth might have to go behind her back. She hated to do that, however; it would backfire on her one day if she had to keep tattling.

Beth thought back to how Mrs. Franklin appeared. She couldn't help but think that Paige's mom was still visibly grieving the loss of her son. She was defeated by angst at why her son had left. There was no doubt in Beth's mind that the loss of their son had aged Mrs. Franklin by years. Who knew what his father looked like? He could have suffered even more. The brother and sister that Paige claimed hated Pete — were they blaming themselves, knowing that they'd been abusive toward their brother, and wondering if they'd pushed Pete once too often or a little too far?

Beth's thoughts returned to Paige's mother. Beth knew only too well the agony in the heart of a mother who'd lost a child. She felt the inner conflict; Paige was her friend, and client, and Paige trusted her. But Beth could sympathize with Mrs. Franklin.

Beth shook her head to clear the conflicting feelings. She _had_ to be loyal to her friend, no matter how much she understood Mrs. Franklin's suffering. She couldn't let her empathy for Paige's mom cloud her interactions with the girl. Paige needed someone she could trust implicitly, and at present, Beth filled that role.

**********

"You seem a little tense today," Tina commented as she probed Paige's very round, pregnant belly with her stethoscope.

"I'm okay," Paige denied, but not very convincingly.

"I bet you're worried a little about your upcoming delivery."

"Wouldn't you be if you were in my shoes?" Paige asked. "Used to be a boy, now I'm a pregnant girl, and I'm going to deliver a baby. No sweat. Piece of cake." Her last comments were more than a touch sarcastic.

"You're more uptight than that," Tina observed. "There's something else bothering you, isn't there?"

"Nothing you can help me with," Paige said bitterly.

Tina straightened and let her stethoscope hang free. "Oh. Something to discuss with Rachel, I take it?"

Paige just shrugged.

"Up in the stirrups," Tina ordered. "You should know the drill by now," she added with a smile.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to this," Paige commented. "It's so ...."

"Personal? Invasive? Uncomfortable?"

"All of the above," Paige answered with a sheepish smile.

"I don't know a woman who _is_ comfortable with gyno exams," Tina laughed. "But once you've had a baby — and the loss of privacy that entails — it just becomes one of those things that you have to do, and you don't think about it."

As Tina was straightening up after her exam of Paige, Paige asked softly, "Did you ever forget anything for your own kids? You know, important dates, things you'd promised to do with them, things you were going to buy?"

"This is about your parents, isn't it?" Tina asked with certainty. Paige just nodded as she swung her legs out of the stirrups and sat up. "I'm not the one you want to talk to about that," Tina replied. "You need to talk to Rachel or one of the other counselors. Or Beth."

"But did you?"

Tina bit her lip. "Uh, yeah," she answered hesitantly. "A couple of times." She looked directly at Paige, making eye contact so Paige could gauge Tina's feelings. "I felt terrible about it when I remembered."

"Did you apologize?"

Tina nodded. "I couldn't stop apologizing," she explained.

"How would your kids have felt if you hadn't apologized?"

Tina shook her head. "I don't know. Both times, I worried that they would think I didn't love them."

"What if you hadn't remembered? What would they have felt?"

"I can't answer that," Tina said. "That's way out of my area of expertise. All I can tell you is that a good parent would be very remorseful to discover that they'd accidentally done that."

"Mine aren't," Paige said softly, so softly that Tina barely heard.

Tina decided to ignore the girl's comment. "We're done with you for today, so you can get dressed and go meet with Rachel. I'll see you again on Wednesday?"

"Yeah." As soon as Tina closed the door behind her, Paige slipped off the gown and dressed herself. Her breasts were enlarged, and with the very round tummy, it was awkward to get her clothes on. She waddled out of the exam room, and down to the nurse's station.

"All done?" Deb was on duty at the nurse's station, which puzzled Paige, since Beth also was working the shift.

"Yeah," Paige answered, "until Wednesday."

"We'll be seeing more and more of you as you get closer. You've got, what, a week and a half?" Deb asked.

"Ugh. Don't remind me."

"You'll do fine," Deb reassured her. "I believe Rachel is waiting for you. You know the way."

"Yeah," Paige chuckled. "I've been here so often that I could find my way around this place blindfolded. See you later." She gave Deb a half-wave goodbye, but Deb had already turned her attention back to her paperwork.

Paige got a surprise when she walked into Rachel's office. Beth was sitting on the sofa, talking with Rachel. Immediately, Paige stiffened, feeling like she was being ambushed. "Hi," she said cautiously.

"Hi, Paige," Rachel said cheerfully. Despite the tone of her voice, there was something in her eyes that indicated displeasure. "Have a seat."

Watching Beth warily, Paige sat down, smoothing her skirt as she did so. The gestures were so automatic that she wasn't even aware of them anymore. "What's up?"

"I'm concerned about the e-mail you wrote to your family," Rachel said evenly.

Paige's eyes narrowed, and burned with anger. "You told!" she spat at Beth.

Beth nodded, carefully keeping her expression neutral. "Yes, dear," she said calmly. "I had to. You should know that."

"But ... it was private!"

Rachel shook her head. "No, Paige. Once you asked Beth to send it, you knew that she'd probably tell me. Didn't you?"

Paige alternated glaring at Beth, and then at Rachel. After several awkward seconds, she dropped her gaze. "Yeah, I guess," she admitted softly.

"Paige, honey," Beth pleaded softly, "I had to. That letter was so full of anger and hate. I had to share it with Rachel." She shook her head. "It's not good to hold in that much anger. It doesn't do you any good."

"I have _reason_ to hate them!" Paige snarled.

"But not to lash out at them, to try to hurt them the way they hurt you. Trying to get revenge won't help you get past the hurt and anger," Rachel admonished the girl.

"Why not? I want them to feel some of the hurt they made me feel."

"And what good would that do?" Rachel asked. "Would it make you hurt less inside? Would it take away the pain you've carried around for years? Will it suddenly be better if you lash out at them?"

"But ...," Paige started to reply. She halted, having absorbed the full meaning of Rachel's words. She let her gaze drop slowly toward the floor. "I guess not," she said sheepishly.

"But it felt good to get it all out," Rachel said to reassure the girl. "It felt good to write down all the things that had hurt you, didn't it?"

Paige nodded as she spoke. "Yeah."

"Here's one more question to think about," Rachel said. "If they didn't know what they'd done, do you think it would be good for you to tell them? In a non-spiteful way, I mean."

"I ... I hadn't thought of that," Paige replied. "I just wanted to make them hurt."

Rachel handed a couple of printed pages to the girl. "Read a bit, please."

Paige took the papers, confusion on her features. She started to read, and as she did, a scowl formed. She stopped suddenly, and let the hand holding the paper drop to her lap.

"A little over the top?" Rachel asked.

In answer, Paige just nodded.

"Why don't you try again, but this time, tell the story without the anger or hatred. Tell them how they hurt you." She saw Paige's expression of shock at what Rachel had asked her to do. "Yes, you heard me right," Rachel said with a nod. "Write it again, but this time, stick to the facts. Try to keep your anger in check."

"Is that an assignment?" Paige asked hesitantly.

Rachel chuckled. "Yes. And that means that I have to grade it before you can send it."

"I guess that's best."

Beth patted Paige's hand again. "Yes. And when you're ready to send it, we'll get that secure, anonymous e-mail set up for you. That way, you can tell them what you need to, but not have to worry about them finding you."

Paige's expression showed her uncertainty. "Is it okay to tell them that I don't want to ever see them again? That they shouldn't look for me, because they'll never find me?"

Rachel nodded. "Tell them what you think you need to. If it includes your desire to never see them again, then add it."

"Okay," Paige replied in a quiet voice. "I'll start working on it."

"No hurry. But if I were you," Rachel cautioned, "I'd send it before you deliver the baby, because afterwards, your emotions _are_ going to be a little crazy, remember? It might make it a bit harder to be dispassionate and factual."

**********

"You did great."

"I don't feel like it," Paige replied to Beth. She lay in a hospital bed at the clinic, resting after delivering her baby. "I had to have the epidural, and I couldn't push."

"It's called labor for a reason, honey," Beth answered with a smile. "It's not easy for most women."

"I'm not 'most women,' in case you'd forgotten," Paige commented dryly.

"You didn't have any complications," Beth reassured her, patting Paige's hand. "It was relatively short, for your first."

"Short? That was short?" Paige asked, astonished.

Beth nodded. "I was in labor for almost thirty hours with Michael," she said. Her voice cracked at the end.

"I wish I could have held the baby. But I know I couldn't." Paige sighed, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. "I ... I don't think I'd give her back if I did, though." She sounded sad.

"It's hard," Beth observed. "It's very hard for first-time clients. You carried a miracle in you for over four months, and then she's gone. But you helped her get a good start in life, and she has a new family to love her."

"I want my own baby to love," Paige blurted out of the blue.

"Aren't you afraid of being a parent?" Beth was shocked by Paige's sudden revelation.

Paige sighed. "Yeah. But I was scared of giving birth, too. I ... I need to show ...." She halted suddenly, afraid that she'd already said too much.

"I know, hon," Beth said soothingly.

"What's it like to raise a child?"

Beth laughed. "It's hard, especially for a single mom. But it can be the most rewarding thing in the world."

Paige turned toward Beth. "Can you tell me about Michael, please?"

Beth smiled. "He was a little angel — most of the time. But sometimes, he was a brat. He was always unpredictable." She chuckled. "Like most children, I guess. Sometimes, he'd be doing something bad, and then, out of the blue, he'd say or do the sweetest thing that'd make me forget how bad he'd been."

"Did you ever wish ...?"

Beth shook her head emphatically. "No, never. He was ... everything ... to me. He was my little baby. Even when he grew up, I could still see the sleeping little baby in his face, and in his eyes." She wiped at a tear. "Sometimes, raising him by myself was really hard. Staying up all night with him when he was sick, feeling totally helpless and praying that his fever would break. When he was older, staying up late until he got home, because I always worried about him, no matter how often he told me he was grown up and didn't need me to worry."

"Why? Why would you worry that much?"

Beth smiled. "Because I loved him. Even when he was misbehaving, he brought so much joy into my life."

"I noticed," Paige said hesitantly, "that you had a lot of things from him in the closet."

"My favorite is a picture he drew in fifth grade. He had an assignment to draw his favorite person." She shook her head as memories flooded back.

"Is that the one you have framed in the hall?" Paige asked.

Beth nodded. "He stayed up late for four nights in a row working on it, but he wouldn’t let me see. And then he brought home his graded assignment. It was a picture of me." She looked unseeingly at the wall, her mind's eye reliving the moment. "That's when I knew he was going to be an artist. He drew an outstanding pencil sketch. The teachers thought he'd cheated, until he drew a few things for them in class." She shook her head slowly. "They all encouraged him to keep drawing, and to study art. His high school art teacher was so impressed by his talent that she bent over backwards to help him get a scholarship, too."

"What was he like? I mean as a small boy?"

Beth smiled, but there was sadness in her smile. "He was always so curious, and so eager to please his mommy. He was very sensitive. If he did something wrong, all I had to do was raise my voice a little, and he knew he'd been bad, and he'd get so remorseful. I never, ever, ever had to spank him." Beth got the far-away look again. "I remember when he was three; we went to the beach for his first time, and he was afraid of the waves, but trying to show me he was brave. When a wave came in, he'd run away, and then turn and chase it back into the ocean." She sighed. "He always made friends so easily. And one of his friend's dads took him under his wing, so he could do 'boy stuff', like playing baseball and cub scouts and going to football games." She shook her head sadly. "One time, when he was in grade school, he got home from a football game with his friend's family, and he saw me sitting alone waiting for him. He was so apologetic for doing things that didn't include me, because he wanted to please me. I told him that I was glad for him that he could do things other boys did."

Paige lay on her bed, not saying a word, her full attention on Beth. She knew the memories of Michael were painful for Beth, but Paige didn't know what to say.

"When he went to the junior prom, he felt guilty about leaving me home alone."

"Did he have any girlfriends?"

Beth smiled, but her eyes were half-closed, heavy with sorrow. "There were two girls he dated. Both of them were very sweet girls. I worried about him being with them — like any parent would. It was kind of awkward to have 'the talk' with a boy when you're his mother."

"I suppose it was." Paige had a sad look on her own face. "I wouldn't know. No-one ever took the time with me."

"Oh, honey," Beth said sympathetically, holding Paige's hand.

"You still miss him a lot, don't you?" Paige asked simply.

Beth nodded as she wiped at her tears. "Yes, dear. I miss him very much. I suppose I'll always miss him. He was my baby." She paused, and the silence in the room was palpable. Paige dared not say anything for fear of upsetting Beth with more unhappy memories, while Beth took some time to compose herself. "We weren't perfect. We had disagreements, and we had a huge argument when he bought his motorcycle," Beth admitted. Tears flowed freely. "I hated that thing. And then he had the ... accident. That was a mother's worst nightmare come true. He was so bandaged and broken in that hospital bed. Not at all like my beautiful boy." She looked away. "He had several broken ribs and a punctured lung, plus liver damage, and he was on life support. When the neurosurgeon told me he had severe brain damage, and I knew how crippled he would be from the injuries ...." Her voice trailed off, yielding another awkward silence. "That was the hardest thing I ever had to do — to have them disconnect his life support." She didn't try to wipe the wetness from her cheeks. "I would have done anything for him, but it wouldn't have been fair to Michael to live like that. I had to let him go, no matter how much it hurt me."

The two sat wordlessly as Paige considered Beth's story, and Beth fought her continuing grief.

"After I lost Michael too, I blamed myself. I told myself that God had taken him because I'd done something wrong. I had pretty severe depression. It took me a long time to feel like there was something worth living for." She looked up and tried to put on a smile. "Eventually I went to work for the Morris Foundation, and now I'm helping save babies. It's the least I can do."

"Is that ... is that why you're ... being so nice to me?" Paige asked hesitantly. "Is that why you help me?"

"Part of it is my job, hon," Beth said, holding Paige's hand. "But it's more than that now. I feel like I'm getting a chance to pick up where I left off with Michael. I feel like I can make a difference." A warm smile crossed her face. "I like you. I like having you around. I feel ... complete again, for the first time since Michael's accident."

Paige lay back on her pillow, letting her gaze drift to the ceiling. She was stunned by what Beth had told her, and that Beth said — in so many words — that she cared for Paige, and wanted to help her, just like she'd helped her own son. Maybe even to love her. Paige swallowed hard as she considered that, for the first time in her life, she felt wanted and loved. And she knew, from Beth's description of raising a child, and her own depression over separation from the baby she'd carried, that she was going to have her own child — someday.

On an impulse, Paige pushed herself upright to a sitting position, and she wrapped her arms around Beth. "Thank you."

"For what?" Beth asked, confused.

"For being here for me. For being so caring and so generous to me."

**********

Operation Rescue: In Plain Sight - Chapter 5
(to be continued)

A young man, feeling totally unwanted by his family, runs away. He needs to find a way to survive, and eventually, he stumbles into an Op Rescue clinic.
Paige is making more progress - and with a couple of steps, is gaining confidence. As they say, though - "two steps forward, one step back"

Operation Rescue: In Plain Sight - Prologue
Operation Rescue: In Plain Sight - Chapter 1
Operation Rescue: In Plain Sight - Chapter 2
Operation Rescue: In Plain Sight - Chapter 3
Operation Rescue: In Plain Sight - Chapter 4

[email protected]

********************************************************************

Chapter 5

This story is copyright by the author. It is protected by licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Tina smiled as she came into her office. "Let's have a look at how you're doing." She looked at Paige's nose, and chin, and throat from various angles, pressing gently especially on her chin, watching to ensure the girl didn't wince in pain. "Um, hmm," she said as she examined the results of the cosmetic surgery. "As usual, Dr. Patel did an outstanding job."

"Good."

"Do you like the final result?" Tina asked cheerfully.

Paige scowled. "I've seen it every few days when I changed the bandages," she said, not sounding happy, "but it's been still red and swollen. I don't look like I did, but it's not an 'outstanding job', as you said."

Tina chuckled. "You need to see it now that the redness and swelling have gone down and there aren't any bandages in the way." She turned, got a small mirror from a drawer, and handed it to Paige. "See for yourself."

Paige took the mirror, not sure she wanted to look again. When Tina nodded, still smiling, the girl held up the mirror and looked at her reflection. Immediately, her jaw dropped open in surprise. After staring a couple of moments, she turned to Tina for reassurance.

"Yes, that's the new you," Tina beamed. "Like I said, Dr. Patel did an outstanding job."

"I'm ... I don't look anything like I did!" Paige stammered. "I look like a girl!"

"A pretty girl at that," Tina added. "And since everything has healed, you can start wearing makeup again." She noted something that Paige had said. "I bet you haven't really been looking in the mirror while you had the bandages on, have you?"

Paige shook her head. "No, not really."

"If I were you, I'd be spending a _lot_ of time in front of the mirror, admiring the new look."

Tina wasn't exaggerating. Paige's long straight nose, broken by her brother years before, was much shorter, upturned and dainty, with no telltale bulge of the break remaining. Her jaw still hurt from where Dr. Patel had rounded it, making it less sharp and more graceful; the doctor had told her it was like a broken bone, and would ache for a few weeks. The effect, the girl knew, was worth it. Gone was the unsightly bulge of her Adam's apple. Her lips were a little fuller, thanks to a tiny bit of collagen. Finally, her cheeks were a little higher, her cheekbones more defined and much prettier. She could have achieved the look with makeup, Paige knew, but with the implants reshaping her cheekbones, she wouldn't have to rely on makeup quite so much. The areas that had been worked on were still a bit red, but the swelling was gone, and her new face could be seen. "Wow!" Paige mouthed.

"Anupama is quite a surgeon, isn't she?" Tina picked up her computer. "Was it worth it?"

"Yeah," Paige said. Her smile said far more than she ever could have. There was almost no trace of Pete left in her face. "Why are you asking?"

"Good. And you're completely recovered from your pregnancy."

"My ... breasts aren't sore anymore."

"No, they shouldn't have been after the first few days, once your body decided it didn't need to lactate."

"It was ... weird," Paige said in a hushed voice, "having milk come out."

"It's part of the anatomy," Tina said with a smile.

"Maybe someday," Paige said, staring into space vacantly and daydreaming aloud, "I'll have my own baby, and I'll know what it's like to nurse him or her."

"It could happen, if you don't change back." She saw something in Paige's eye. "You _aren't_ changing back, are you?"

Paige shook her head. "Didn't Rachel tell you?"

"No. She only said that you weren't sure what you were going to do."

"I think I've decided," Paige said. "I think Tommi had it right. She said she doesn't regret a minute of what she did. And I think I don't regret any of what I've done, or what I've become. I feel ... free." She laughed. "I know that must sound strange."

**********

Paige walked quickly from the bus stop to one of the classroom buildings. She'd been at the community college for several weeks of classes already, not counting the GED preparation class she'd taken the previous spring before she got her GED. The difference from that experience, though, was that now she was working on a career-based education, not just a high-school diploma equivalent. It made the campus seem less intimidating, a little warmer and friendlier.

The other key difference was that Paige was no longer visibly pregnant. She wasn't looked at askance by the other girls, nor suspiciously or lustfully by the guys. She felt more comfortable, both physically and emotionally. There were a few girls that shared all of her classes; they were also starting toward associate degrees in broadcast communication. Paige was increasingly comfortable with the other girls, and a few of the guys, too. She thought of how far she'd come in the preceding year. At times, she tried to remember exactly what it was like, living in the hut, scratching out a subsistence living. She couldn't remember, though. She'd come too far from that meager existence.

"Hey, wait up," a male voice called from behind her.

Paige turned to see who was calling after her. She recognized Steve Jenkins, one of the guys from her communications classes. "Hi, Steve," she answered pleasantly. She paused a few seconds to let Steve catch up to her.

"Are you ready for the test?" Steve asked as he fell in step beside Paige.

Paige shrugged. "I guess. Studying isn't my best skill."

"You could have fooled me," Steve replied with a grin. "You're always answering in class, and you always seem to be in the middle of discussions."

Paige blushed. "What can I say? I like the subject."

"Your enthusiasm will serve you well when you get an on-air job," Steve complimented.

Paige's pink cheeks turned beet red. "I'm ... I don't think I want to do that," she objected, but without enthusiasm.

"Why not? You're pretty enough, and you have a nice voice. I think you'd be a natural."

"You're trying to flatter me," Paige chuckled.

Steve shrugged with a grin. "Guilty as charged. But ... well, you've just got an enthusiastic personality. You seem to liven up conversations — even boring classroom discussions."

Paige stopped and turned toward him. "If I were to guess, I'd say you were trying to butter me up so you could get me on a date or something."

It was Steve's turn to blush. "Was I that obvious?"

"Yes."

"Oh," Steve said. "Well, even though you figured it out, would you like to go out to dinner with me tonight"

"Just dinner?" Paige asked cautiously.

"Just dinner." Steve was nonplussed by her wariness.

"I suppose I could," Paige replied after a moment's thought. "I have to get home early enough to study, and I know Beth worries if I'm out late."

"Your mom?"

Paige's eyes flashed with anger for the briefest of moments. "No, she's .... I'm staying with her."

"Oh." Steve had noticed Paige's response, and wasn't quite sure how to proceed with the conversation, since he'd accidentally upset her.

"Nothing too fancy, okay?" Paige volunteered to break the uneasy silence.

"Pizza?"

She shrugged. "That's okay. Or maybe the deli. Just as long as it's Dutch," she added quickly.

Steve frowned. "You won't let me treat you to dinner?"

Paige shook her head a tiny amount. "I'd rather not — at least, not now. I don't like to feel ... like I owe anybody something."

"Okay. But you realize that by playing hard to get, you're going to get more interest, don't you?" Steve asked playfully.

Paige felt a shiver inside. She had no idea how to deal with guys, and Steve was attempting to charm her. She knew that Beth would have advice about how to handle men — and the attention they would give her.

**********

Beth looked up from her book when she heard Paige's key in the door lock. Moments later, the girl entered the apartment, closing and locking the door behind her. She turned, and started upon seeing Beth on the sofa. "Oh, hi," she said quickly. "I didn't think you'd be up, so I was trying to be quiet."

"I couldn't sleep," Beth said. "I think it's this book. It's hard to put down, and I was lying awake in bed wondering what was going to happen next."

Paige chuckled. "I know what you're talking about. Sometimes, that happens to me, too."

"Out with Steve again?" Beth asked, curious.

"Yeah. We went to a movie, and then got some dessert."

"You're going out a lot lately the past month," Beth observed, trying hard not to sound critical of Paige.

"You and Rachel are the ones who kept telling me I needed to get out more," Paige answered. She sounded defensive.

"I wasn't criticizing," Beth tried to reassure the girl. "I was just making a comment." She sat up, swinging her feet off the sofa to the floor. "Steve must be a nice guy."

"He's okay," Paige said, but there was something in her tone of voice that was obvious but unspoken.

"Do we need to talk?" Beth asked.

"About what?" Paige's eyes were narrowed in suspicion; she was sure that she knew what Beth was hinting at.

"About sex," Beth said bluntly. "Eventually ...."

"Yeah, I know," Paige interrupted. "Eventually I may get curious and engage in sex. If and when that happens, I need to be careful, to protect myself from disease and unwanted pregnancy." She sounded like she was reciting a well-rehearsed speech.

"Well, yeah," Beth answered. "But there's more than the physical aspect."

"Tina and Rachel already explained how my new parts work."

"Did Rachel talk about how emotionally vulnerable you can be during and after sex?"

"Yeah," Paige answered.

"Are you ... you know?"

Paige shrugged. "Yeah. I mean, it's no big deal, right?" she added. Her expression wasn't as neutral as she was trying to make her voice sound. If anything, she looked like she was getting very annoyed.

"Are you being ... careful?" Beth asked awkwardly.

"Would you quit trying to run my life? I can handle this, mom!" Paige flared. She turned and stomped angrily to her room, slamming her door shut behind her.

Beth sat on the sofa, her mouth agape at Paige's reaction, and more so at the fact that Paige had called her 'mom'. She wasn't sure what it meant, whether Paige was exceedingly angry at her for prying, or if Paige was so comfortable with Beth that she was thinking of the older woman as her own mom. In either case, it didn't strike Beth as a good thing.

**********

"Let me guess," Rachel said to Paige as the two sat in her office, "you were feeling depressed or lonely after giving birth, and you decided to ... experiment ... a little."

Paige didn't look up from her lap. Her cheeks were pink from embarrassment. "Uh, yeah," she said softly. "Kind of."

Rachel laughed. "Going all the way isn't 'kind of'."

Paige shrugged. "I guess not. I suppose you want to know all the sordid details," she added sarcastically.

"No, not unless you _want_ to tell me." She gazed quizzically at the girl. "Does Beth know?"

"Yeah, I guess," Paige admitted softly.

Rachel's eyebrows rose. "You haven't told her fully? You've just let her guess?" Paige shook her head. "I can think of a number of reasons you'd, um, explore your sexuality," Rachel observed in a neutral tone. "Curiosity, especially since you didn't have much sexual experience as a teenager. Fear of being alone or unwanted from all those years. Need to feel cherished or important because of post-partum depression. Subconscious desire to participate in the other half of having a baby." She shrugged. "Lots of reasons. The important thing is to make sure you're not doing it for the wrong reasons, like compensating for post-partum."

"Yeah, you and Suzie both told me that several times."

"And we told you that you'll never be as emotionally vulnerable as you are during and after sex. One wrong comment by your partner, and you could be emotionally devastated."

"Steve's very considerate," Paige countered quickly. "He hasn't ever been pushy or anything."

"I wasn't saying otherwise. I just want you to be careful." She looked over her notepad. "Why haven't you told Beth? Is there something going on between you?"

Paige shook her head. "No."

"So why did you get angry at her? Why did you accuse her of trying to run your life?"

Paige leaned back and stared at the ceiling, afraid that her eyes would betray her feelings. "I don't know," she answered half-heartedly.

"When you yelled at her, what did you call her?" Rachel asked. She sounded like she was merely curious, but she already knew the answer. Beth had told her.

Paige glared at Rachel. "You know," Paige answered with a frown.

"What did you call her?" Rachel repeated innocently.

"I called her ... mom," Paige answered softly as she stared at the floor.

"Why?"

"I guess because she was poking in my personal life."

"Was she trying to control your life, like your ... mother did?"

Paige shook her head. "No. Not really."

"So she was just concerned about you?" The girl nodded. "Did you ever tell your mother to quit controlling your life?"

Paige shook her head no.

"So it wasn't out of habit. Was it maybe a mixture of feelings, like you felt she was controlling you, but at the same time, you liked that someone was genuinely concerned about you? That you _wish_ Beth was your mom because she cares for you and treats you with respect and dignity?"

Paige looked away suddenly, but Rachel could see her wipe at tears that had suddenly appeared. "Yeah," she answered in a tiny, frightened voice.

"Do you? Wish Beth was your real mom?"

"Yeah," Paige answered quickly. "She makes me feel special, and ... loved. Even when she tells me something I don't want to hear, I know that it's because she really cares about me." She wiped her cheeks. "It ... it feels nice."

"Let's talk about your real mom, your real family."

"Do we have to?" Paige pleaded with Rachel.

"Yes, we need to. It's part of your past that's painful, and even though you've made a lot of progress, you're still working to let go of the anger and hatred." Rachel waited until Paige looked at her eye to eye. "Have you heard back from your real mom?"

"I ... I don't know," Paige admitted softly.

"You don't know? Didn't Charlotte set up the e-mail so you could get any replies, if there were any?"

"Yeah, she did," Paige answered, "but ... but I'm afraid to look."

"You're curious, aren't you?"

Paige simply nodded, looking down for fear of betraying more emotions through her facial expression.

Rachel stood and took her laptop from her desk. She sat down beside Paige. "Let's look — together." She waited a bit for Paige to reply, but the girl didn't. Rachel opened the e-mail website that Charlotte had set up. She paused before she selected the 'check mail' box. "Do you want to know?"

Paige nodded slowly. "I suppose I _need_ to know, don't I?"

"In my opinion, yes," Rachel replied, "but this is all up to you. It's _your_ life, not mine."

Paige thought a second. "Okay. Open it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Before I chicken out."

Rachel clicked the button, and then handed the laptop to Paige. She watched as the girl opened the e-mail, and then read. As she did so, her eyes moistened, until she was in tears. After a bit, she closed the program and handed the computer back to Rachel.

"Do you want to talk about what they said?" Rachel asked, inviting Paige to share without feeling compelled.

"They ... they're glad I'm alive," Paige began. "They said they'd been afraid for years that I was dead or something else bad had happened to me. They said they never gave up hoping, or looking for me. They said that my running away almost tore my family apart."

"That's the same thing Suzie and I told you when we showed you the posters and ads," Rachel reminded the girl. She noted that Paige had referred to them as "my family" for the first time since she'd met Paige — or Pete.

"Yeah," Paige acknowledged. "They said they didn't realize all the things that they'd done that hurt me, and that they're very sorry. They said they understand why I ran away. They said that they wish I'd come home again, but that they understand why I wouldn't want to." Her voice trailed off as she stared blankly across the room.

"Is that all?"

"They asked me to forgive them for not being better parents," Paige concluded. She closed her eyes and took a couple of slow breaths. "I can't do that."

"I understand."

"Even though it doesn't hurt as much, and I'm not having the nightmares, I can't forgive them for all that they did. It hurt me too much."

"Maybe someday, you'll be able to," Rachel said, putting her hand comfortingly on Paige's arm.

Paige's eyes widened. "You're not ... going to suggest that I do that?"

Rachel shook her head slowly. "No. That's not for me to decide. Someday, you'll know you're ready to take that step, but until then, it has to be _your_ decision, not because of pressure from me or Suzie or Beth."

Paige nodded and wiped at her tears again. "You were right. They didn't know what they were doing."

"All parent are amateurs, Paige," Rachel reminded the girl. "We all try our best, but there's no personalized instruction manual, so every parent has to guess and hope that he or she is doing the right thing."

"It's kind of late for that, though," Paige said, sounding more sad than bitter. "They took away my childhood. All my memories are crap."

"You can reply to them if you want," Rachel suggested. "You can tell them what you told me, that you can't forgive them — not yet, and that you feel like they stole your childhood." She saw the girl's eyes widen with surprise. "It's all up to you, but I think that telling them what they'd done, and how you felt about it, helped you. It _might_ help you to continue exchanging e-mail from time to time."

"Maybe." Paige got a far-off look. "Would it be okay to tell them that I'm making my own life, and that I don't want to see them now?"

"As long as you aren't spiteful or angry," Rachel said with a smile. She noticed that Paige seemed distracted. "Is there anything else on your mind?"

"Yeah," Paige said, snapping her awareness back to the office and to Rachel. "I want to sign up for another baby."

"Oh?" Rachel seemed, surprisingly, not shocked by the news. "Why?"

"I ... I like how it feels to help a baby. I feel like I'm important." She got a far-off look in her eyes. "It’s the first time in my life that I've felt like I was important." She smiled as she refocused on Rachel. "And I need to pay for my college."

"Well, if you're sure, we can do another quick psych test, and then get the paperwork started."

"Another one of those tests?" Paige groaned.

Rachel smiled. "And you think I like grading them?"

Paige shook her head. "No, but you don't have to. They're scored by a computer, aren't they?"

**********

Paige was lying awake on her bed; sleep was coming hard to her. She knew what she had to do — she and Rachel had talked at length about it. It didn't help Paige feel less nervous. Presently, she heard the Beth unlocking the door with her key, and then the door squeaked as it opened. Wordlessly, Paige crawled from her bed and padded softly to the kitchen.

Beth was just getting home — late — after her mid shift at the clinic. It was almost midnight, so she was trying to be quiet so as not to waken the girl. Only one small under-counter light was on, making the kitchen a dark, shadowy place.

"Hi," Paige said softly, startling Beth, as she walked into the small circle of light.

"Oh!" Beth exclaimed, startled. "You surprised me. I figured you'd have been asleep a long time ago."

"I couldn't sleep."

"Something bothering you? You've got classes tomorrow morning, and you don't want to be tired. Maybe I can get you something. Chamomile tea, maybe?"

"No," Paige said. She stopped near Beth, who was standing by the counter where she'd set her purse. "I ... I need to talk to you."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Paige said, looking down. "I had a meeting with Rachel today again."

"Are you okay?" Beth asked, her voice echoing her concern.

Paige shrugged. "I don't know. No." She shook her head. "I ... I think I hurt someone close to me," she finally stammered.

"Sometimes that happens," Beth said cautiously. She thought she knew where the girl was leading the conversation, but she didn't want to guess.

"I ... I said something to you yesterday," Paige said, looking down. She shook her head, then looked up at Beth, her eyes pleading. "I know that I've told you how much I hated my mother. And then I called you 'mom'!" she said softly.

"I know you were upset," Beth tried to soothe the girl.

"No," Paige wouldn't let herself be mollified. "I ... I need to tell you that I wasn't comparing you to her. I ..." She looked down, shaking her head slowly. "I think, maybe, I was getting so comfortable with you that I was thinking of you as I wanted a mother to be. A caring, giving mother, not a hurtful, neglectful, uncaring person." She paused, trying to figure out what to say. "I'm sorry if what I said hurt you."

Beth stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Paige. "Oh, honey," she said soothingly, "I know you weren't trying to be hurtful. And I'm sorry that I upset you."

**********

"Look at you!" Tommi sang out to Paige as the girl strode comfortably to where Tommi was sitting in a café. "You look fabulous!"

Paige blushed, sitting down. "You know how Tina and Rachel can be. They wouldn't let me gain an extra ounce, and they really pushed me to work out after delivery, especially since I signed another contract."

Tommi laughed. Paige was finding her to be motivating. She was a beautiful woman — Paige would have never guessed that she'd once been male. She kept her long brown hair styled neatly, but with a playful lock or two. Tommi was about as tall as Paige, too, which gave Paige some ideas about what her future might be. On top of that, Tommi had fought through a lot of adversity, Paige had learned, and had found a loving family, a new sister, and a life companion, all while earning two degrees and working on her PhD. It gave her hope that she, too, might find some happiness.

"Did you hear me?" Tommi asked, a little more loudly. She had a scowl on her face; Paige was obviously distracted about something. And she looked — nervous.

Paige realized that she'd let her mind wander. "Oh, I'm sorry. I was just thinking."

"About what?"

Paige shrugged. "Just things. Another baby. Finishing school. You."

"Me? What about me?"

"Just that I think you're amazing."

Tommi laughed. "I hardly think so. I'm just an average girl ...."

"Who's hosted several babies, all while working on college degrees," Paige finished. "You make me think that I can do it. Even with my little ... setback."

"Of course you can," Tommi reassured Paige. Then she realized what Paige had said. "What do you mean, 'setback'?"

Paige's eyes started to water as she looked down at the table, avoiding eye contact with her mentor. "I ... I made a big mistake!" she said, beginning to sob.

"What kind of mistake?" Tommi was alert now. She'd been through her own struggles, and she knew that Paige was still having difficulties.

"I'm ... I'm ...." Paige struggled to speak through her tears. "I'm pregnant!" she blurted out.

"What?"

Paige nodded, wiping at her cheeks. "We ... we were being careful," she said softly, "I thought we were, anyway. But ... something must have happened."

"Are you sure?"

"I did the test twice."

"And I'm going to guess that you found out _after_ you signed the contract?"

"Yeah." Paige looked up, her eyes pleading. "What am I going to do?"

"You haven't told Rachel or Tina yet, have you?" She saw Paige shake her head 'no'. "Are you going to carry to delivery?"

Paige nodded. "I want to. I have to. It'd be pretty hypocritical to have an abortion, after ...."

"You have to tell Rachel and Tina," Tommi said simply. "How about the father? Does he know?"

"No. And I'm not going to tell him." Paige saw the look of disbelief on Tommi's face. "We're ... friends. Close friends, but just friends. I don't want to force him into ...."

"Does Beth know yet?"

"I don't know how to tell her," Paige said.

Tommi suddenly started chuckling, earning a confused stare from Paige. "I was supposed to be giving you advice on how to handle things, because Rachel figured I'd been through some of the same things you're going through. But now, you're doing something that I haven't." Tommi laughed. "You're going to be the one giving advice on early-stage pregnancy when Erica and I have our own!"

Paige realized the strangely comical nature of the situation, and she began to laugh through her tears.

Tommi stood, and took Paige's hand. "Come on," she urged.

"What?"

"We're going to go talk to Rachel and Tina."

"But ...."

"No 'buts.' You _have_ to tell them.

"I'm ... I'm afraid."

"Don't worry. You know how understanding they are. Everyone at the clinic is. Have you decided if you're going to keep the baby, or give it up for adoption?" Tommi asked as the two women walked toward her car. "Did you drive, or take the bus here?" she added as an afterthought.

"The bus," Paige answered. "I don't have a car." Paige shook her head. "I want to keep it."

"I've heard how tough it can be for a single mother. You'll _have_ to get a car for all those odd errands you'll have to run, and you'll have to deal with a job, and daycare."

"Are you trying to scare me?" Paige asked nervously.

"Yeah," Tommi answered with a chuckle. "Isn't that what everyone at the clinic did to you before your first? Everyone wants to make sure you think things through before you just jump in."

Paige sighed. "It's a little late for that, isn't it?" When Tommi unlocked her car, Paige climbed into the passenger seat and buckled in. As they drove, Tommi used her cell phone to call the clinic. Paige nervously listened as Tommi told the receptionist that she and Paige needed to talk to Tina, Rachel, and Suzie, urgently. She quickly added Beth to the list.

The closer they got to the clinic, the more Paige was nervously fidgeting. Tommi noticed, and placed her hand on Paige's to reassure the frightened girl. "It'll be okay. I'll be right with you." Tommi pulled into a parking spot, and the two women got out. As soon as they walked into the clinic, a receptionist looked up, then practically leaped up to hug Tommi. "Hi, Cynthia," Tommi greeted the receptionist.

"Hi, Tommi! What brings you here? Are you going to sign up for another one?" Cynthia asked playfully.

Tommi grinned. "Maybe later. Erica and I are going to work on our own." She released her embrace of Cynthia. "Rachel should be expecting me."

Cynthia frowned a bit, and she looked down to her computer. "Oh," she said as her worry-lines vanished. "There's a note here to meet her in her office. She's in the conference room, in a staff telecon with the main office, but she should be done any minute now. Do you want to wait out here?"

Tommi shook her head. "No. We'll wait in her office, if that's okay. Tina, Suzie, and Beth were supposed to be notified as well."

Cynthia glanced at Paige, a look of concern flitting momentarily her face. If Beth was involved, she figured that the matter _had_ to be related to Paige, not Tommi. "Tina's in staff with Rachel, but I'll let Suzie and Beth know."

"Okay." Tommi's chipper voice was mildly upsetting to Paige. How could Tommi be so happy and carefree about Paige's problem. On the other hand, Tommi was obviously not the type to worry over things that were outside her control, which made Paige want to emulate her calm nature. But she couldn't. She couldn't get past the fear of having to tell four women who had become dear to her.

The two walked casually to Rachel's office. The door was open, and Suzie was already sitting in one of the stuffed chairs. She rose to greet Tommi. "Can't stay away, can you?" she joked, before giving Paige a greeting hug.

Tommi smiled. "This place is just too friendly to stay away." Gracefully, she sat down on the sofa, once more making Paige feel envious of her well-polished femininity.

Paige just slumped onto the sofa. In a moment, Beth came scurrying into the office. "Busy morning," she said as she eased herself down beside Paige.

"Yeah, I saw the schedule," Suzie said with a smile.

Before she could add more, Rachel and Tina strode purposefully into the office. Rachel was scowling, and Tina looked tired. "I hate those budget meetings," Rachel complained. She dropped a notebook loudly on her desk and then sat down in the other stuffed chair. Tina, seeing the seats all occupied, pulled a chair from in front of Rachel's desk and eased herself wearily to the chair. "I don't envy you for that," Tina said. "But you weren't up at five this morning for your first surgery."

"No," Rachel said, "I was up all night working on the budget numbers before the meeting!" She sighed wearily as she glanced around the room. Her gaze settled on Paige. "Okay," she began, sounding annoyed, "what's the emergency?"

"I sort of need to talk to you," Paige said cautiously. She'd been intimidated by Rachel's gruff tone and words when she'd come into her office.

"Sort of? Either you need to talk about something, or you don't," Rachel said impatiently. The staff meeting had worn her patience thin. "It's like being pregnant. You are, or you aren't. There's no 'sort of'."

Paige looked down, her cheeks reddening. "That's the problem. I am," she said in a tiny, shy voice.

"You're what?" Rachel asked, frustration in her voice. Her lack of sleep was evident to all.

Suzie, though, realized immediately what Paige was trying to tell them. "Oh, my God!" Suzie squealed. "Are you sure?"

Paige just nodded, still looking at the floor ashamedly.

Rachel started to say something, but her fatigued mind finally caught up with the conversation. "You're ... pregnant?" She paused a moment, gazing hawk-like at Paige, while she took a deep breath. She had a lot more to say to the girl.

Suzie's hand on Rachel's arm interrupted the comments Rachel was about to deliver. When she glanced in surprise to her colleague, Rachel saw Suzie shake her head slightly. She shut her mouth, knowing that Suzie had just stopped her from giving Paige a scathing lecture about responsibility. Lack of proper rest was impairing her judgment.

Suzie turned toward Paige, and put her hands reassuringly on Paige's shoulders. "Have you decided what you're going to do?" she asked calmly, in a non-judgmental voice.

"I'm having it," Paige said softly. "I mean, it would look pretty bad if I didn't, right?"

Beth leaned over to the girl and wrapped her arms around her. Paige's head sank onto Beth's shoulder, and the girl began to tremble as she cried.

"I'm so sorry," Paige wailed, crying openly now that she'd admitted her mistake. She knew she was in big trouble with the program. "I'm sorry I'm such a disappointment." Her shoulders shook as she bawled on Beth's shoulder.

"You're not a disappointment," Beth said as she held Paige tightly.

After Paige had calmed down, she retold what she'd already explained to Tommi— it was an accident, they had thought they were being careful, and she wasn't going to tell the father. She added, though, that she was pretty sure — now — that she was going to keep the baby after its delivery, rather than give it up for adoption. She looked at Beth for reassurance.

"I guess if _I_ can manage to raise a child as a single mother," Beth said, trying to inject a little levity, "then you should have no problems."

"Okay. Where are you going from here?" Suzie asked calmly. "School, job, where you live, and so on?"

Beth pulled Paige tightly against her. "She's staying with me." She saw the shocked expression on Paige's face. "If you want to, that is," she added.

"Yes," Paige replied, a look of gratitude on her face at Beth's generous offer. "I need to finish school," Paige said, sounding firm for the first time in the discussion. "But I don't know what I'm going to do about a job."

"Even though you signed the contract," Rachel said, trying to sound sympathetic, "with the pregnancy, I can't have you on the payroll as a client."

"I figured," Paige replied.

"You know," Suzie interjected to Rachel, "this might be an opportunity. We've been meaning to start some media productions."

Rachel picked up on Suzie's thought. "You know, that might work."

Tina sighed. "If you're done with me, I want to get some lunch. And I probably should do a pregnancy test on Paige for confirmation."

Rachel nodded. "That's a good idea."

With Beth and Paige, Tina walked to the medical side of the building, into one of the lab areas. "Beth, I want a blood sample for an hCG test."

"hCG?" Paige asked, curious and a little afraid.

"It's a hormone that occurs when a fertilized egg is implanted. It's a very accurate test — much more accurate than the home pregnancy tests."

"How long will it take?" Paige asked a bit fearfully. She was already very sure that she was pregnant, but the blood test would give a confirming answer.

"Twenty to thirty minutes," Tina replied. "We have our own lab, so it's quite a bit faster than a regular OB's office. Sometimes, they have to wait for days until the lab has a batch of tests to run. We do the tests immediately." She saw Paige's expression. "Nervous?"

Paige shook her head. "I'm almost certain that it'll be positive. I'm not sure, because I don't have a lot of practice in being a woman and having ... periods, but I think I'm very late."

***********

"I got another e-mail," Paige said from the kitchen as she cooked spaghetti sauce.

"Oh?" Beth asked, curious.

"Yeah."

"What did they say?" Beth asked cautiously. She knew that it was difficult for Paige to even e-mail her family, let alone discuss anything that came back.

"They said that they miss me, and that they didn't mean to hurt me. They said they still love me, too." Paige sounded skeptical about the last phrase.

"A few months ago, you wouldn't have believed that. But now?"

Paige shook her head sadly. "I don't know. Maybe I still want to believe that they do, but it's hard."

"That's understandable."

"Dinner is ready," Paige changed the topic as she finished pouring the sauce into a serving bowl.

"I'll get the table set," Beth replied, "while you drain the noodles"

Working together, the two had dinner ready quickly, and were seated at the table. After saying a short grace, Beth dished up some spaghetti for Paige. "Did they say anything else?"

Paige took the bowl of spaghetti noodles from Beth and began to ladle on some sauce. "It sounded like there were some big family and health problems after I left," she said, "but ...."

"You have doubts, don't you?"

"Yeah. She used to always use guilt to manipulate me." Over time, Paige had sounded less and less angry at the memories, replacing the anger with sadness.

"It's understandable that you'd be skeptical." Beth sprinkled some Parmesan cheese on her sauce, atop the noodles. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know. Maybe I should ask what happened after I ran away," Paige said, sounding unsure of herself.

"It's up to you." Beth smiled. "You make good sauce."

Paige snorted. "It's just some seasoning I put in the bottled sauce."

"But you nailed the blend of spices. And the sausage slices are a nice touch."

Paige laughed. "You make it sound like it's restaurant quality. It's just something I threw together."

"I guess, after all these months, I shouldn't be surprised at how good a cook you are." Beth laughed. "I should have you teach me a few things. Michael always ate what I cooked, but he sometimes said I should take lessons."

Paige took a bite, and silence descended over the table for a few moments. "I don't know if I should keep e-mailing them."

"It's your choice." Beth raised an eyebrow as she looked at Paige. "I'm starting to think, though, that part of you is curious, and maybe hoping that you could connect with them again someday."

"Maybe." Paige stared down at her plate. "But ...." She shut her mouth as she considered her words.

"But ... maybe you're afraid of what I'll think?" Beth asked hopefully.

"Yeah." Paige didn't look up. "It's like ... after all the time I've been with you, I think of you like _you're_ my mom."

Beth felt her eyes moisten. "That's so sweet. And ... I think of you like I did of Michael," she admitted.

**********

Paige sensed that someone was in the room with her, even though she hadn't heard anyone slip through the open door. She paused what she was doing and turned. "Hi, Rachel," she said when she recognized the visitor.

"How's it going?" Rachel asked as she gazed over Paige's shoulder at the computer screens.

"I'm still not happy with it," Paige sighed. "It just doesn't ... pop."

"It's an overview video," Rachel commented, "not a blockbuster movie."

Paige drew a quick breath so she wouldn't get short with her boss. "The biggest thing is to make sure the message gets through. It's got to hold people's interest through the presentation and the Q&A." She shook her head. "It's not easy, especially since a lot of the footage is, to be frank, boring."

"Boring?" Rachel seemed offended.

"It's not the material," Paige corrected quickly. "The sound levels during the presentation aren't easy to work with. There's a lot of background noise, and the colors are kind of flat."

Rachel sighed. "What can you do with it?"

Paige closed her eyes for a moment. "I'm trying to put in some soft background music to set a mood, and I'm trying to clean up the audio track."

"If that works ..."

"And the editor keeps changing things, so it's hard to get the music timed. Frankly, I'm a ways behind where I should be on the schedule."

"Well, you're going to be at least another hour behind. I want to talk to you in my office when you get a break."

"I can take a break now." Paige answered. She saved her working files and followed Rachel to her office.

"I can see that you're frustrated," Rachel said as she gestured to a chair.

Paige sighed, slumping wearily onto a seat. "It's slow — a lot slower than it should be." She saw Rachel's bewildered look. "And with all the constant edit changes, I can't make any progress on the music track. It has to be in sync, or it sounds ... jarring. It really distracts from the message."

"Do we _really_ need background music?"

Paige sighed. "You told me to do this right," she said, exasperated. "The message by itself can be ... overpowering, or even intimidating," she said.

"You mean scary, don't you?" Rachel asked with a smile.

"I wasn't going to put it that way, but yeah. There are lots of studies that show that background music sets a mood and enhances the willingness of a person to receive the message. Lack of background music, or too much, can sound harsh, like a newscast or political debate."

"Good point." Then she smiled. "You're just showing off what you've learned, right?"

Paige blushed at the compliment. "Besides, until the editor finalizes things, I can't do a lot more on the video." Paige took a deep breath and slowly exhaled to calm herself. She'd gotten comfortable talking to Rachel as a counselor, but she was nervous talking to Rachel as a boss. "There's one thing I'd suggest to help the process," she commented hesitantly.

"What's that?"

"The team needs a producer. Everyone has ideas, but if there was a single focal point in a producer, it'd be a lot easier — and quicker — to get the videos done."

"And this is where a producer would help, right?"

"Yeah."

"Congratulations. You can add that title to your job description."

"What??" Paige's mouth dropped open.

"If you want the job, that is," Rachel added.

"I guess," Paige said, sounding uncertain.

"You don't sound sure of yourself."

"Well, not really. I'm busy enough doing the engineering for the videos. If I add producer ...." She gulped. "I mean, the rest of the production staff ... might not like it."

"Paige," Rachel said in a firm but reassuring voice, "as you move in your career, you're going to be in charge of people. As boss, you are going to have to make some decisions that will make people unhappy or that they don't agree with. You can't avoid that."

Paige looked a little pale as she considered the implications of a leadership position. "That sounds hard."

"And, as a leader, you want the team to feel engaged. You should seek input from people so you don't come across as a dictator. If the team doesn't agree on a course of action, a good leader will make the decision, and then take the time to explain why a particular decision was made, so the team feels like they weren't ignored. It helps the team stay cohesive." Rachel smiled. "It's something that everyone who leads a group of people should learn. Not all do, though. Nervous yet?"

"Yeah."

"If I didn't think you could do the job, I wouldn't have asked you." She grinned. "Think of this as another college course — in leadership and management."

"Okay," Paige answered hesitantly. "I guess I'll try."

"Do, or do not. There is no try," Rachel giggled. "At least, that's what my favorite movie philosopher would say. Now, if you take charge as producer, when do you think we can have a rough cut of the video to preview? Not finished, mind you. Just a draft."

Paige looked down as she bit her lower lip. She was lost in thought, not focused on anything in particular for a few seconds. "I think we can have something done by Friday afternoon."

"Have Cynthia schedule a meeting for the staff to preview the video on Monday." She saw Paige's confused look. "Always give yourself a little extra time to allow for those things that _will_ go wrong."

Paige stood to leave. "I'll get right on it."

"Oh, and Paige," Rachel added, "the editor told me you didn't want to use any of the segments you filmed. Why not?"

Paige shook her head immediately. "I'm not good in front of the camera."

"Michelle disagrees. She says that you have a very good screen presence."

Paige bumped into Beth in the hallway after she left the meeting. "What happened?" Beth asked, concerned by Paige's shell-shocked expression.

"Rachel just ... promoted me ... to producer!" Paige answered, her voice echoing her incredulity at what had just transpired.

**********

"What's up?" Steve asked Paige as they walked toward a classroom.

Paige shrugged. "Not a lot."

"You've been a little ... distant," Steve said. He sounded unhappy.

"I've been ... distracted." She belatedly realized that her words might lead him to ask questions. "I've got a part-time job, and it's keeping me pretty busy."

"Oh. I was wondering if we could go out to a movie Friday night."

Paige smiled, but shook her head no. "Afraid not. Beth and I already have plans."

"Oh. Maybe Saturday, then?"

Paige shook her head. "Sorry." She stopped and turned toward him. "I know we were hanging out a bunch ..."

Steve smiled. "If that's what you want to call it." He saw Paige's face, and his smile vanished.

"Look, I like ... hanging out ... with you. I like going to movies and dinner and things with you. But ... I'm, well, I'm getting ready for something major, and I ... I don't want to be distracted."

"Oh?" Steve couldn't hide the disappointment in his voice.

"I'm ...." Paige looked down for a moment. "I'm going to host a baby," she finally lied, looking up at Steve. It would give her an excuse to appear pregnant, and hopefully head off any questions.

"Host? Does that mean you're pregnant?"

Paige knew she had to control the conversation, and quickly. "Do you know of the Morris-Henderson clinics? How they have surrogate mothers carry babies?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah. My sister's college roommate carried a baby." His eyes widened. "Oh, that's what you mean."

"Yeah." Paige sighed. "I'm ... with getting ready for that, doing my classwork, and working part-time, it's kind of hectic."

"You told me about the job. Working with a firm doing video production? That sounds so cool."

"It's just a bunch of instructional videos," Paige said. "And a few videos that might be used for some ads."

"It's more than most of us do, at least until we graduate."

"Anyway, with all of that, I'm just overloaded right now, and with the way my hormones are going to be for the next four or five months getting ready for the program ...."

Steve's eyes narrowed. "My sister said it was only a month or two for her roommate." He frowned. "What's really going on? Are you seeing someone else?"

Paige shook her head quickly. "No. I'm not seeing anyone else. I'm just ...." She lowered her gaze so he couldn't see her face. She knew she didn't have a 'poker face'. "I just need a break."

Steve was clearly disappointed. "I guess if it's what you want." He tilted his head back, shaking it slowly as he looked toward the ceiling. "I was starting to think that you were hinting that you're pregnant or something." He looked down, and saw the horrified look on Paige's face. "You ... you _are_ pregnant?" he asked, stunned. He read her expression. "Oh, my God!" he mouthed slowly.

"I'm ...." Paige looked down. She decided not to conceal the truth any further. "Yeah. I'm pregnant."

"Is it mine?"

Paige nodded slowly. "Yeah. There's no question about that."

"Oh." Steve stood, stunned by her revelation.

"I'm going to keep the baby," Paige said, breaking the awkward silence. "And I don't expect you to feel any obligation to me or the baby," she added quickly.

"But ... what if I _want_ to?" Steve asked softly.

"I'm not going to get into a long-term relationship because of one accident on one night," Paige said firmly. "Besides," she added, "you don't know anything about me." She saw the look on his face. "If you want to have a relationship with the baby ...," she began.

"_Our_ baby," Steve corrected.

"... our baby," Paige acknowledged slowly. "I won't interfere. I know important it is for a child to feel loved ... by both parents." She sighed. "And maybe, someday, ...." Her voice trailed off.

Steve understood what she was implying. She wasn't going to push a 'shotgun wedding'. If they did develop a long-term relationship, Paige wanted it to be based on mutual attraction, not a sense of obligation because of a pregnancy. "Maybe." The two turned and walked in silence to the classroom.

**********

Paige's nerves were already frazzled as she rose to get off the bus. It had been almost a month since she'd revealed to Steve that she was pregnant. In that time, she hadn't gone out with him — at least not formally, although they had had lunch at the campus cafeteria a few times. Today, though, was different. Today, Paige had a purpose, and she wasn't looking forward to it.

With a grim expression, she marched off the bus. She'd been very deliberate in choosing this spot; she didn't want anything public, lest they create an embarrassing scene. Nor did she want anything completely private. The city park, on a Saturday morning, was perfect. There were enough people out walking their dogs and jogging that it was public, but some of the benches and picnic tables were far enough from the jogging trails and walking paths that some privacy could be had.

As she expected, Steve was already waiting for her. He rose to greet her as she walked to the picnic table at which he sat. "Hi," he said simply.

"Hi," Paige echoed nervously. She sat down across the table from where he'd been sitting.

"What's with the cloak and dagger mysterious meeting point?" Steve asked, trying to inject some humor. He looked upbeat, as if he was expecting some something positive from Paige. Perhaps she was ready to start getting more serious.

"I ... I have to explain something to you," Paige said. Her hands were trembling at the prospect of telling Steve the whole truth.

"What?" Steve's curiosity was giving way to nervousness.

"You know about baby hosting, don't you?" Paige asked.

Steve nodded. "Yeah. My sister's roommate did that." He frowned. "Does that mean — you're going to let someone else carry our baby?"

Paige shook her head. "No," she replied firmly. "I could _never_ do that!"

"Then what?"

"Before I started ... in college," Paige said, "I ... carried a baby."

Steve's expression lightened. "Oh." He smiled. "I thought it was going to be something serious." His smile froze when he saw the grim look on her face.

"There's more." Paige bit her lower lip for a second. "The foundation was started by the guys who invented organ cloning."

Steve looked confused. "So?"

"So," Paige said, "because they could clone organs, they made it possible for ... other people to host a baby."

Steve frowned. "You mean, like women who were infertile or had damaged ... organs?"

"Well, yeah," Paige said, looking down. "And ... guys," she added softly.

Steve's jaw dropped as he considered what he _thought_ he'd heard Paige say. "No," he said firmly. "No, you're not telling me ...." He shook his head. "No. You can't be .... We ...."

Paige didn't look at him, just nodding her head slowly. "I ... was ... a boy," she admitted softly, her cheeks moist with tears. She _knew_ what this revelation could mean to Steve, and any potential for a long-term relationship.

"That's ... impossible!"

Paige shook her head. "They can clone all the necessary organs, and then implant them. Everything a girl would need to carry and deliver a baby — which I've done."

"You're ... transgender?" Steve asked incredulously.

"More than that," Paige replied harshly. The way he'd spoken sounded as if he considered transgender to be a dirty word. "All my ... girl bits are fully double-X chromosome, true female organs. It's just that the rest of my body is XY, like any male. In all the ways that count, I'm a fully functioning, completely female person," she added defensively.

Steve looked away from Paige, at a distant spot in the park. "And we ...." He shook his head. "This is ...."

"I had to tell you," Paige said, reading the confusion, and even a bit of anger, in his voice, posture, and expression.

"Why didn't you tell me ... before?" Steve asked softly.

"Does it make any difference?" Paige pleaded. "I'm a woman. I've carried one baby, and I'm pregnant!"

"It's kind of ... overwhelming," Steve said slowly.

"I ... understand."

"No, you don't understand!" Steve snapped. "This is ...." He shook his head again. "I don't know what to think. And even if I could get used to the whole thing, I don't think my family ever could. They're very religious!" The two sat in silence, neither knowing what else to say. Finally, Steve stood up. "I've got to go," he said, not bothering with an excuse. He turned to walk away from the table.

Paige sat, staring after him, tears dripping from her cheeks onto her shirt. "See you in class Monday?" she called out hopefully after him.

Steve paused a half step. "Yeah," he said, "I guess so." He didn't sound at all convincing.

When the next bus that would take her back to the apartment stopped, Paige still had tears running down her cheeks. She sat on the bus in silence, feeling utterly devastated. When she got to the apartment, she trudged in the door, and then collapsed face-first onto the sofa.

Beth was in the kitchen baking when Paige came in. She knew immediately that something was wrong. She set her cooking aside and went to the sofa, where she sat on the edge next to the girl. She could see that Paige's body was shaking from her crying.

"Are you okay?" Beth asked, concerned.

"I told Steve," Paige sobbed.

Beth knew immediately that it hadn't gone well. "Oh, honey," she said as he put one hand on Paige's shoulder.

"I thought he was better than that!' Paige cried. "He ... he walked away from me."

"It _is_ a big thing for people to accept," Beth said soothingly. "Rachel and the staff spent a lot of time talking to you about that."

"But ... he _rejected_ me! Just like before! People don’t want me!"

"That's not true, and you know it!" Beth admonished the girl firmly yet lovingly. "You have friends at the clinic, and I ... I want you around. I _need_ you around, to help me with _my_ issues. You _are_ loved and wanted!"

"But ... what if he tells everyone?"

"What if he does? Very few people are still prejudiced about transgender or gay people. I doubt many people would reject you."

"Why?" Paige wailed. "Why couldn't he accept me?"

"Oh, honey," Beth said again, "you really like him, don't you?"

Paige nodded.

"And this is your first heartbreak. It's always hard to get your heart broken, but the first time is the worst." She had a thought. "Did you think that maybe, you and Steve ...?"

"Yeah," Paige said softly through her tears. "We ... seemed to connect. And we - you know. It was so special." She slowly levered herself up to a sitting position, and Beth scooted next to her, pulling Paige's head onto her shoulder.

"I know it hurts. I went through that, you know, so I understand." She ran her fingers through Paige's hair, and caressed her cheek soothingly. "You'll be okay. I promise."

After crying for several more minutes, Paige looked to Beth. "Thanks," she said softly, "for always being here for me."

"It's what friends are for, dear," Beth said with a smile.

"You're more than a friend," Paige retorted. "I ... I wish I could call you 'mom', because you're more like a mom to me than anyone else has ever been."

Beth's eyes widened, and smile slowly spread across her face. "That would be okay with me."

**********

Operation Rescue - In Plain Sight - Chapter 6
(To be continued)

A young man, feeling totally unwanted by his family, runs away. He needs to find a way to survive, and eventually, he stumbles into an Op Rescue clinic.
Paige is adjusting to her life, and finds a little closure and peace.

Operation Rescue: In Plain Sight - Prologue
Operation Rescue: In Plain Sight - Chapter 1
Operation Rescue: In Plain Sight - Chapter 2
Operation Rescue: In Plain Sight - Chapter 3
Operation Rescue: In Plain Sight - Chapter 4
Operation Rescue: In Plain Sight - Chapter 5

[email protected]

********************************************************************

This story is copyright by the author. It is protected by licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

"Wow!" Paige said to herself as she hung up the phone. She was sprawled on the sofa, next to Beth's chair.

"Something wrong?" Beth asked, perking up immediately when the girl expressed her surprise at whatever she'd been on the phone about.

"I don't believe it," Paige said softly. She snapped out of whatever stunned state she'd been in. "That was one of the managers at channel 2. They want me to come in for an interview for an intern position."

"That's good," Beth said encouragingly. She glanced and saw Paige's expression. "Isn't it?"

"I suppose," Paige said uncertainly.

"I think it is."

"But ... where did they get my name? Why did they call _me_?" Paige shook her head. "I didn't apply for any internships. And besides, I'm already working part-time at the clinic."

"Well, the clinic is good job experience," Beth reassured Paige, "but work at a television studio would be a lot better on your resume."

"But why me?"

"Maybe one of your professors recommended you. Or Rachel."

"Why would Rachel recommend me?" Paige asked, a level of distress in her voice that was increasing. "Unless she wants to get rid of me!"

Beth moved to sit beside the girl, and she put her hand on Paige's. "Honey," she said soothingly, "if Rachel wasn't happy with your work, she'd have talked directly to you about it. You know that. Besides, she promoted you to producer, didn't she?"

"But ... if she's happy with my work, why would she want to get rid of me?"

"If Rachel did recommend you, and we don't know that she did, it would be because she wants to help you on your career path. There's only so much work at the clinic, you know." She smiled. "But I don't think Rachel was the one to recommend you. She'd have talked to you first, wouldn't she?"

"Yeah, I suppose."

"You should talk to Rachel about it," Beth recommended. "She's always been up-front with you, hasn't she?"

Paige nodded.

"I get the feeling that you really don't want to go on this interview."

Paige looked down. "I don't know."

"It's been a tough road for you, with a lot of challenges. You're gaining self-confidence, but going to work daily outside your safe nest could be intimidating, right?"

"Yeah."

"It's just an interview. You're not committing to go to work for them. That option would come after you interview — and you could always turn them down."

"Yeah, I guess." Paige tried to smile. "I guess this means someone believes in me, huh?"

Beth patted her hand. "Someone besides your friends, you mean."

**********

"You look fine. Would you quit fussing and go catch the bus?" Beth admonished Paige, who was still in front of the bathroom mirror trying to add 'just one more' finishing touch to her makeup or hair or clothing.

Paige came out of the bathroom. "Well?" she asked nervously.

Beth smiled. "If looks count, you're about two-thirds of the way to having the job."

Paige blushed. "It's not on-camera, so my looks don't count."

"No, but looking professional and composed does, and you've got that."

"I wish I _felt_ composed. I'm nervous."

"Just be yourself, and you'll be fine."

Paige nodded, and then she picked up her purse and strode from the apartment.

Beth fussed around the apartment, trying to read, but not being able to concentrate, then trying a little cleaning, only to get annoyed doing that. The truth was that Beth was concerned about how Paige was doing on her first job interview. As time passed, Beth tried to convince herself that the longer the interview, the better Paige was doing.

Over three and a half hours after Paige left, Beth was startled by the sound of the door opening. As she rose from her chair and dashed to the door, Paige came in.

The look on Paige's face was a strange mixture of relief and elation. She was still trembling from nervousness — perhaps because her frazzled nerves were finally able to release emotions she'd held in check during the interview. She sat down at the counter, visibly shaking.

"How did it go?"

Paige stared past her for a few seconds. "I guess it was okay," she said.

Beth could understand her reaction. "Would you like a cup of herbal tea?" she suggested. Anything to give the girl a sense of normalcy and routine.

Paige nodded. "I was scared," she admitted after a few seconds.

"It's normal to be nervous." Beth turned on the stove to heat the tea kettle, and then got a fresh cup and the tea bag. After pausing for a moment to think, she prepared a second cup for herself.

"It was my first interview," Paige said simply.

Beth grinned. "No, in fact it wasn't. You had several interviews with Rachel and Tina, didn't you?"

"I suppose." Paige took a deep breath, exhaling slowly to calm herself. "It wasn't what I expected."

"Oh?"

"They were so ... nice. They showed me around the production area." Her eyes lit up. "They've got really well-equipped studios for their production," she said, letting her excitement at the station overcome her nerves. "The production engineers really know their stuff. And ... the department manager knew about my work at the clinic."

"Oh? Did you ask him how he knew?"

"Yeah. He said that he got a recommendation from Professor Flynn." Paige shook her head. "He's seen some of the videos I produced for the clinic, so I guess he showed them to the department manager."

"I told you Rachel wouldn't have done anything without talking to you first."

"I know," Paige agreed meekly. "It's just ... I was nervous."

The tea kettle started to whistle, so Beth shut off the stove and poured the steaming water into the two waiting cups. "I'd have been nervous, too, but you're a good student. You really know the subject matter, and your experience working with the clinic's videos gave you some very valuable experience."

"One of the department managers was suggesting that, after I do an internship, if I take a permanent job, I could become an on-air newsreader or something."

"I know you don't think you want to be in front of the camera," Beth began.

"That's an understatement," Paige interjected.

"But you want to keep all your career options open. The more different aspects of the business you know, the more you can earn, or you'll have more choice of doing what _you_ want to do." She pulled the teabags from the cups, and pushed one across the counter to Paige. After taking a sip, Beth said, "Do you think you'll get a job offer?"

Paige nodded. "The department manager gave me a verbal offer, and he said he'll get a written offer in the mail."

"So I guess congratulations are in order. Why don't we go out to dinner to celebrate? Maybe Chinese? Or that Mexican place, Tres Pesos?"

Paige wrinkled her nose. "You _know_ Chinese food doesn't agree with me now," she complained. "And Mexican is a little too spicy. I don't want to aggravate my morning sickness, you know."

"Then maybe we can go to Denny's, or IHOP? Something a little less spicy and exotic?"

"That sounds good."

An hour later, the two walked into the lobby of an IHOP. A hostess came up to greet them almost instantly, and her face beamed. "Paige," she said with a broad smile. She gave Paige a quick hug. "I didn't expect to see you here tonight."

"We're celebrating," Paige answered. She realized almost immediately that she'd overlooked a social nicety. "Beth, this is my friend Trish Hopkins from school. Trish, this is my good friend, Beth, that I'm living with."

Trish shook hands with Beth. "It's nice to meet you. You know, Paige talks about you all the time. Do you really walk on water?"

"No," Beth said, glancing with a frown at Paige.

"The way she talks about you, it sounds like you do!" Trish giggled. "What brings you here tonight?"

"I had an interview for an internship with Channel 2 today," Paige said. She wasn't fond of talking about herself. "I think they're going to offer me the job."

"That's great!" Trish said with genuine happiness for her friend. She looked at Beth. "Paige is just _amazing_!" she gushed. "She's so smart, and her work is top-notch! It's no wonder you're getting an internship!" She smiled. "I'm interviewing with the PBS station next week, and there's an independent video production company that does mostly advertisements."

"You'll do great," Paige assured her friend with a warm smile.

"But not as good as you. And you're doing this while you're pregnant, too!" Trish said in amazement. "I'm envious."

Beth smiled. "I have to agree. Paige is one of the most amazing people I know." Paige was, by this point, red-faced with embarrassment from the compliments. Secretly, though, she felt ecstatic in her heart. People were talking nicely about her work, and about her.

**********

Rachel stood when Paige walked into the conference room, and greeted Paige with a brief hug. She turned to another woman seated at the table. "Paige, I'd like to introduce Sara Connor. She's the chairperson of the Crisis Pregnancy Center." She turned to Ms. Connor, who was rising. "Sara, this is Paige Fulton, the girl I was telling you about." Ms. Connor and Paige shook hands, and Ms. Connor stared at Paige's rounding belly

Rachel gestured for Paige to take a seat. She'd seen Sara's glance. "Paige is helping produce the instructional videos for our clients, and she did our latest ad."

Paige felt her cheeks redden at the compliment. "I was just helping a little," she said, feeling embarrassed.

"Helping out, my foot!" Rachel exclaimed. "She did most of the video and sound engineering for the videos."

"I've seen them," Ms. Connor said. "They're good."

"Paige, we're about to finalize an agreement with the Crisis Pregnancy Center to provide obstetric services for poor, single mothers."

"So we're going to need new ads?" Paige assumed.

"Not yet. We'll need to edit some of our videos to highlight our services, and we'll need to reproduce some of them in Spanish as well."

"You could just do subtitles or voice-over," Ms. Connor suggested. "Our clientele aren't that picky."

Paige shook her head. "If you were a frightened young mother, and you watched a video that's obviously dubbed, would it give you any confidence? Would it make you feel welcome?"

Rachel agreed. "Paige is right. We want the girls to be comfortable, and that means that our materials have to look professional and welcoming — even if we have to re-shoot them."

"That'll cost ...." Ms. Connor began.

"The Foundation gave us a pretty generous grant to pilot the program. Let's not worry about the costs, okay?"

Ms. Connor's eyes widened at that revelation. "Okay," she said. She was used to operating on a shoe-string budget and cutting every corner she could.

Rachel turned back to Paige. "Can we get that girl from your school to edit for us again?"

Paige shook her head. "If you're thinking of Michelle Nguynh, no. She got a fabulous offer to do an internship with a production company in LA. She's moving as soon as soon as the fall term is over."

"Any other students who can do the job?"

"Nope. No-one is as good as Michelle. You're going to have to hire a good video editor."

"That's what I was afraid of." She sighed. "Can you check with your instructors and see if they have a recommendation?" Rachel turned back to Ms. Connor. "Let us know what you think we need for instructional and advertising materials. And let's tag-team on La Leche League. If we both work on them, we might get them on the team, too."

Ms. Conner frowned. "That's going to be a tough sell. You _know_ how they like to stay as far from the abortion issue as they can."

"I know," Rachel acknowledged. "But when they see what we can bring to the table, I think they'll come around, especially if we emphasize our new services for disadvantaged mothers." She stood, followed by Sara and Paige. "I'll have Cynthia set up a meeting so the lawyers can talk. I'm sure they'll have a lot to say. But I think we're very close to making the announcement."

Ms. Conner's face brightened. "It'll be great to get our poorer clients better services." She reached out and shook Paige's hand again. "It was a pleasure to meet you." She seemed like she was uncomfortable, like there was something more she wanted to say, but didn't quite know how to say it. "Uh, if you don't mind my asking," she began, "are you one of the clients hosting a baby?"

Paige smiled, while Rachel laughed. "No, ma'am," Paige answered. "This one is mine. But my first one was a hosted baby." She saw Ms. Connor's eyes widen at her answer. "And I've already signed a contract to host another baby."

"I take it you _like_ being pregnant."

Paige laughed. "Not all of it. But bringing a baby into the world makes me feel ... special. Like I'm part of a miracle."

"I'd guess you're about seven months along?"

Paige gave Rachel a quick, knowing glance. "Actually, closer to eight. The staff does everything they can to make sure we stay in shape."

After Rachel showed Ms. Connor to the lobby, she returned to the conference room. "Pregnancy agrees with you," she said as she sat down, eliciting another blush from Paige. "Now, what did you want to talk about?"

Paige drew a deep breath to steady herself. "I was hoping ... that I could talk you into letting me have my baby here, with the doctors and staff I know."

Rachel laughed aloud. "Your timing couldn't be more perfect!" she roared. "After that meeting, how on earth would I say no to your request?"

"There's something else I need to talk to you about," Paige added, her voice hesitant.

"What's up?" Rachel said, sitting back in her chair.

"I ... I had a job interview for an internship at Channel 2," Paige said bluntly.

"Good for you!" Rachel said with genuine enthusiasm. "That sounds like a very good career step."

Paige's jaw dropped. "But ....?" She didn't know quite how to continue, or to say what she was thinking.

Rachel, however, knew what was on Paige's mind. "Paige," she began, her voice warm and sympathetic, "I really like working with you. We _all_ like working with you. You've brought so much to our team. The videos you've produced are outstanding. We'd love to have you stay with us. But it wouldn't be fair to you."

Paige's eyes widened at Rachel's words. "Not fair to me?"

Rachel shook her head sadly. "We're not specialists in audiovisual productions. We've got a few projects — enough to keep you busy on a part-time basis. But you need to think about something that's a full-time job, especially since you're going to be a single mother."

"I ... I thought you'd be disappointed," Paige said sadly, suddenly feeling a little rejected again.

"I _am_ unhappy that you'll be working somewhere else," Rachel said to reassure the girl. "But if I kept you around here, it wouldn't be fair to you. It'd be selfish of me. But you're not leaving our little family. You're still living with Beth, and as an alumnus of the program, you're always welcome here. Plus," she added with a twinkle in her eye, "you _did_ sign a second contract, and I'm not going to let you forget about that — or us!"

Paige's worried features eased as she listened to Rachel. "I hadn't thought of it that way." Suddenly, leaving the clinic didn't seem quite so ominous.

**********

Paige wasn't really looking around as she strode into the soup and salad restaurant for lunch. It was close to the television station, and thus a popular eatery. Being in the downtown area, it was also quite popular with many other people.

She walked directly to the salad bar, put a plate on a tray, and began to create her usual salad. She was startled when someone bumped her elbow. She looked up, surprised, and ready to apologize if she'd inadvertently been the offender.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the woman who'd bumped into her said. Her eyes widened slightly as she noticed Paige's round, very pregnant belly, and she continued. "I'm so sorry. I wasn't watching what I was doing."

"That's okay," Paige said, feeling a knot form in her stomach. She recognized the woman who'd hit her — the woman's name was Maggie Franklin. It was her sister. Paige forced herself to remain calm, using some mental relaxation techniques that she'd learned at the clinic. "This place gets pretty busy at lunch, so it's inevitable that these things happen."

The woman nodded, appreciative that Paige was understanding, but then her brow furrowed. She stared at Paige for several awkward seconds. Finally, she shook her head, as if trying to rid herself of distracting thoughts. "I'm sorry," she apologized again. "I didn't mean to stare at you."

Paige shrugged. "It's okay." Inward, she was battling against panic. If anyone would recognize her, it would be her immediate family. She knew, at least intellectually, that such recognition would be impossible, but her imagination was trying to run wild.

"It's just ... you remind me of someone."

"Oh?" Paige asked, struggling to sound merely curious and not panicked.

"This is going to sound silly," the woman said, "but in a way, you remind me of my little brother."

Paige's heart was in her throat. Did Maggie recognize her? She knew it wasn't likely, that there was some general facial similarity that Maggie had keyed on. "Really?" She forced a smile and a tiny giggle. "I didn't think anyone would mistake someone like me," she looked down and simultaneously patted her belly, "for a boy."

Maggie shook her head. "I know it's ridiculous. It's just that, sometimes I think I see his face wherever I go." She smiled, but it was a forlorn, sad smile. "I miss him." She was obviously reminiscing about something; her thoughts were miles — or years — away. "I'm sorry to bother you," she said. She picked up her tray and walked to the cashier station.

Paige watched her walk away. Her heart slowed, and the sense of pressure in her chest eased. A year ago, she'd have had a full-fledged panic attack. In fact, she had, and that was with a former friend, not a family member. Now, she'd bumped into her sister, who hadn’t recognized her. She smiled to herself as she thought about the progress she'd made, and the difference that a little cosmetic surgery had done for her self-confidence and sense of security.

At the same time, Paige's mind was racing. Her sister seemed genuinely sad, like she really _did_ miss Pete. After all she — and Chuck — had done to Pete, how could they possibly miss him? She was left with a lot to consider as she finished assembling her salad.

**********

"You're fully dilated," Tina said to Paige, who was lying in the bed. Beth stood at Paige's bedside, wiping her forehead occasionally to mop up the beads of sweat from her contractions. "This one is going faster than your first one."

"Good!" Paige grunted as a contraction eased.

Out of habit, Deb had started to unfold the screen which, in normal deliveries in this hospital, would keep the host mother from ever seeing the baby.

"We don't need that this time, Deb," Tina said with a chuckle.

Beneath her mask, it was still possible to see that Deb's cheeks were red. "Habit, I guess." She quickly refolded the screen and shoved it out of the way.

"On the next contraction, I want you to push," Tina directed.

Paige nodded, a half-smile on her face. "I've been fighting the urge to push for the last hour." She turned her head to look at Beth. "Thanks for being here for me," she said.

Beth smiled and wiped Paige's forehead again. She could see how refreshing the cool cloth was to the girl. "I wouldn't be anywhere else," Beth assured Paige.

Another contraction came, and Tina nodded to Deb. "Okay, now push. Just like last time. When the contraction eases ...."

"I know - don't relax the muscles," Paige panted as she gasped for a quick breath.

Deb smiled at Beth and Tina, an expression unseen beneath the surgical masks. "It's so much easier when the patients are trained."

"That doesn't make it ... any easier ... to not relax!" Paige protested.

A bit later, the contraction ended, and Paige let her head flop back on her pillow. Beth wiped her forehead again with one hand. She was a little surprised at how strong Paige was clasping her other hand during the contractions.

Two contractions later, Tina announced that the baby was crowning. On the second contraction after that, Paige felt a sudden release of pressure, and she collapsed back onto the bed. As soon as Deb had squeegeed the baby's mouth and nose, and given him a quick wipe, she carried the tiny baby boy to Paige, who reached up, almost in awe, and took the baby from Deb's hands.

Tears of joy poured from Paige's eyes as she held her little boy. She was barely aware of anyone else in the room as she stared into the tiny baby's eyes. "I'm never, ever going to let anyone hurt you," she cooed to the baby. "Never. You're too precious."

Beth smiled as she watched Paige holding her newborn son. She was reminded of a time, long ago, when she'd been in the same position as Paige was now. "He's beautiful."

Deb was busy with paperwork. She knew she'd have to do some quick tests on the baby as soon as Paige had a few moments to hold him. She glanced up at Paige, suddenly confused at something. "Um," she began hesitantly, "have you decided on a name for the birth certificate?" she asked Paige. "Normally, we put Baby John Doe or Baby Jane Doe, with a number. But I don't think you want that."

Paige smiled at her son, and then looked up, staring Beth in the eyes with the look of a grateful daughter looking at her mother. "Michael," she said firmly. "Michael John Fulton."

Beth, whose own eyes had been watering, began to cry openly when she heard the name. Paige had given her baby. She leaned over to hug Paige, and the new baby. "Thank you," she blubbered to Paige. "Thank you."

Paige smiled, crying just as much as Beth. "No. I need to thank _you_ for everything you've done for me. You’ve always been there for me, through thick and thin. I wanted to give you something. I couldn't think of a better way to honor you and your son than by giving _my_ son his name."

In the background, both Tina and Deb felt their own eyes watering at a scene that they almost never saw.

**********

"You better run — you'll be late for work!" Beth called from the kitchen. She was waiting for her breakfast — an English muffin — to finish toasting.

Paige strode from her room, carrying her son. As soon as she set him in his high chair, she buttoned her blouse. "Some mornings, Michael would rather play than eat," she said, shaking her head while smiling. "He's just a little character."

"I've noticed," Beth replied. At that moment, the English muffin popped out of the toaster. "Do you want this? I can fix another one."

Paige smiled. "I didn't think I'd get anything for breakfast today," she said. She waited for Beth to finish buttering it and placing the halves together in a napkin.

"See you after work tonight?" Paige asked. "Or have you got the mid shift?"

"I've got nights for the rest of the week, so I'll watch him. I'll take a nap while Michael is taking his, so I'm not exhausted. But next week, you'll have to drop him off at daycare — I've got the day shift for about three weeks."

Paige shook her head. "I'll have to get on them again about feeding him," she said with a sigh. "I spend all this time pumping, and then they misplace his milk in their refrigerator."

"Speaking of which, don't forget your pump," Beth added.

"Oh, yeah." Paige took a bag off the counter and slung it over her shoulder. "You know, if I had a car, it'd save me about ten minutes on bus transfers every day. Plus, I wouldn't have to schedule my life around the busses."

"And deal with the expenses, like insurance, gas, maintenance, parking, ...."

"You're trying to scare me again," Paige said with a chuckle.

"You should be used to it," Beth said with a grin. "I've got a couple of errands to run, so Michael and I will swing by the drivers' license office and get a book for you to study."

"More studying?" Paige said in mock exasperation. "Will I ever be done studying?"

"At least you've got your degree. Now shoo, before you miss your bus!"

Paige bent down and gave Michael a kiss on the forehead. "You be a good little boy today. Mommy will be home after work, so Nana will take care of you today." She straightened and walked to the door, pausing at the last moment. "His milk is ...."

"In the freezer. Use the older bags first. Yes, I know. Now get moving!"

Paige smiled. "Bye. See you after work." She pulled the door shut behind her and scampered down the stairs to the ground floor. As she exited the apartment building, she saw a bus pulling up to the stop. She had to dash to get on it before the doors shut. She smiled to herself. Life was a bit hectic, but it was worth it.

**********

Paige pushed the apartment door open quietly. She never knew when Michael or Beth would be sleeping, and it was best to not disturb them if they were taking a nap. She glanced around the room as she pushed the door shut with her foot. She didn't see either Beth or Michael in the kitchen or living room, so she figured they were in the bedrooms napping. She'd noticed that Beth's car was in her parking spot, so she knew they were at home.

The first thing Paige did was to slide her breast pump bag off her shoulder onto the counter. She opened the top, and extracted a couple of bags of milk and an ice pack. After checking to ensure the bags were properly sealed, she put the milk and the ice pack into the freezer.

Paige crept quietly to her bedroom, and smiled when she saw Beth lying on her bed, asleep near Michael's crib. She was lucky — Beth was so giving of her time to Michael; it was almost like he was her own child.

After slipping out of her shoes, Paige quietly went back to the kitchen and got out some pans. She was humming to herself, cooking dinner for the two of them.

"What's for dinner?" Beth said in a sleepy voice, surprising Paige. She hadn't heard Beth getting up.

"It's called spaghetti a la putanesca," Paige said. "It's a pretty easy dish."

"It smells delicious." Beth sat down on a barstool at the counter which separated the kitchen from the living room. "How was work?"

"Good," Paige said with a smile. "It's really busy, but it's fun. And Steve took me out to lunch."

"Oh? "

"Yeah."

"Is he getting serious?"

Paige shook her head. "No. I know he has a lot of trouble with my ... past, and my change. I think he's still afraid his family wouldn't accept me, too."

"That's too bad. He seems pretty nice."

Paige shrugged. "I like him, but as a friend. I'm not ready to settle down. I'm happy now, and I want to just enjoy it."

Beth smiled at that. She, too, really liked having Paige and Michael around the apartment.

"I think he wants to take Michael and me to the park Sunday, so he can spend time with Michael."

"That sounds like fun."

"I figured I'd pack a picnic lunch."

"I'm working Sunday, so that'll work out." Beth sounded a little disappointed, almost like she was jealous of Steve spending time with Paige and Michael.

"When we have the same work shift, we'll plan a day out for the three of us." She stepped around the counter and gave Beth a hug — an awkward maneuver given Beth's sitting position and the spoon in Paige's hand.

Practically as soon as Paige hugged Beth, a baby's crying sounded from Paige's bedroom.

"Someone's jealous of not getting all the attention," Beth quipped.

"He's probably hungry, too." Paige handed the spoon to Beth. "The sauce only has to cook for another minute or two, and then as soon as the noodles are cooked, we can eat. I better go take care of the fussy one before he gets too loud."

In a couple of minutes, she was back, carrying her son. She sat down at one of the chairs at the dining table, and with a grace born of practice, unbuttoned her blouse with one hand while she held her son. A simple catch freed her breast, and she gently placed Michael to her nipple, where he latched on immediately and began to feed. Paige sighed with contentment.

"I _did_ tell you that it would be possible for me to help out, didn't I?" Beth asked as she stirred the sauce.

"Yes, you told me all about the induced lactation thing, and how you'd be happy to help with feeding Michael. And I appreciate the thought," Paige added, "but it's not necessary. Besides, if you did, you'd have to pump, too, and that might be awkward while you're on-shift."

"Remember, I'll do anything I can for you and Michael," Beth reminded Paige. "Oh, by the way, Rachel asked if you've decided when you're going to do your second. You _did_ sign a contract, remember?"

"Tell her I haven't forgotten. I figured I'd feed Michael for at least six months, and if I started to prepare for hosting another baby, it'd mess up my milk production." She looked down at the sweet, innocent baby in her arms. "It wouldn't hurt to earn a little extra money. I can start setting aside something for his college, and maybe for a family vacation when he's a little older. Maybe the three of us can go to Disney World or something like that?"

Beth smiled. "I think that would be fun." Her face suddenly got a far off, happy look.

"What?" Paige asked, looking up a little startled by the sudden mood change.

Beth shook her head and smiled. "I was just thinking how much different you are from the frightened little boy who came to live with me two years ago. I have a hard time believing you're the same person."

"I'm not, you know," Paige replied. "I've changed so much — and not just my outside. Thanks to some good friends, I think I'm happier now than I've ever been."

"I can tell."

"Even though it's hectic being a single mom, just like you said, I wouldn't ...." Her voice trailed off as she got a far-off look in her eyes, followed by a contented smile.

"What?"

"Funny — I was about to say exactly what Tommi told me over a year ago. I asked her if it was all worth it. She said she wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. Now I know what she meant. I wouldn't trade this — you, Michael, my changes — for anything in the world." She smiled and stepped close to Beth. "I love you," she said as she wrapped her arms around Beth, "Mom."

**********

Operation Rescue: In Plain Sight - Epilogue
(Fin?)

A young man, feeling totally unwanted by his family, runs away. He needs to find a way to survive, and eventually, he stumbles into an Op Rescue clinic.
Page has one loose end to try to tie up.

[email protected]

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This story is copyright by the author. It is protected by licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

The woman looked up from the small table, set among so many similar tables in the food court of the mall. It wasn't close to lunch or dinner time, so the area was reasonably quiet and not crowded. She stared a moment at Paige before recognition dawned. "You're the girl who talked to me before, aren't you?" she asked hesitantly.

Paige pushed her stroller, with her son, beside the table, and eased into a chair. She was very visibly pregnant again, too. "Yes."

"Why ...?" the woman began, her voice hesitant and fearful. "Do you know anything else ... about my son?"

Paige looked impassively at her. "What's all this about?" she asked. "I understand that he ran away. Why?"

The woman stared at Paige, and then her gaze fell to her intertwined hands atop the table. "I guess it's fair to tell you, since you _did_ help put some of our fears to rest. We didn't know for the longest time," she said softly. "But then, after you told me he was alive, I got an e-mail from him."

"Oh?"

"He told us why he'd run away." The woman shook her head sadly, wiping at a tear on her cheek. "At first, it felt like he was trying to hurt us more." She stopped, biting her lip for a moment. "But then, after we all thought about it, we realized that he was right." She shook her head sadly. "All those years, we couldn't see how much we were all hurting him. We just couldn't see that we were making him feel unwanted and unloved." She wiped at both eyes. "I guess he was right. We were awful parents to him. Everything he said was factual and precise, and we couldn't deny it. It's no wonder he ran away."

"Did ... did you have more e-mails?"

"Yes," Mrs. Franklin said softly, "but he made it clear that he didn't want to ever see us again. He told us that we'd never find him, and to not bother trying." She shook her head, letting her tears flow. "I hoped that, someday, he'd be able to forgive us for what we'd done." She stopped, shaking her head slowly. "I still hope that, someday, maybe he will."

Paige sat silently, looking at Mrs. Franklin. She glanced nervously to one side, where Beth sat a ways off, giving Paige a supporting look.

"After he left, we ... we had problems." She shook her head. "His father ... had a heart attack." She heard the gasp from the girl. "He's okay, but ... we can't help thinking that, if we'd have been better parents, he wouldn't have left, and Tom wouldn't have had the heart attack. His brother blamed himself. After the letter, we understood why Chuck — that's his older brother — started drinking a lot. And Maggie — his little sister — she went from a happy, outgoing girl to a rebellious, angry, reclusive girl. They blamed themselves, because of all the things they'd done to him." She looked up at Paige. "I don't know why I'm telling you all this," she apologized. "I should save it for my counselor."

Paige glanced at Beth again, who simply nodded. When Paige looked back at Mrs. Franklin, she reached out and tenderly put her hand on Mrs. Franklin's hands. "It's been long enough, and I've been through enough. I don't know if I can forgive everything, but I'm ready to try." Mrs. Franklin looked up, puzzled. "At the very least, I can finally accept your apology, Mom," Paige added softly.

Mrs. Franklin's confusion slowly changed, until it was anger. "Is this some kind of cruel trick?" she snapped.

"No. Would you like to tell me about when you and Grandma were telling me that I was such a good cook that I'd make someone a wonderful wife someday?" Paige asked calmly. "Or the time Chuck used my bicycle on the bike trail, and then after he ruined it, I got in trouble for wrecking my bike, even though I'd been sick that day?" She saw the stunned expression of disbelief on Mrs. Franklin's face. "Shall I go on? I can tell you all about what happened when I was growing up, with you and dad and Maggie and Chuck."

"But ..." Mrs. Franklin was thoroughly confused.

"I'll take a DNA test if it'll help you believe that it's really me," Paige said unemotionally.

"But ... Pete was my _son_!" Mrs. Franklin cried. "And you're ...." She was staring at Paige's round, very pregnant belly. "How ...?" She stared, her mouth hanging open in stunned disbelief. "What the hell is going on?"

"You all hurt me so badly that I wanted to hide forever and never see you again." She glanced to the other table, and nodded for Beth to join them. "There's a clinic that helps unwanted babies. They'll even let men into the program, but they have to make some ... adjustments. It was what I needed to get past my fear of being found, and to let me build some self-confidence."

"That's ... impossible!"

Beth sat down at the table. "Mrs. Franklin," she said calmly, "I work at the Morris Henderson clinic. We create ... cloned organs, so that even men can ... carry a baby." She handed Mrs. Henderson a couple of pamphlets. "What Paige is saying is true. When she came to us, almost three years ago, she was a frightened boy who needed to feel like he belonged and was loved and wanted. He had surgery — including some cosmetic surgery — and became Paige. Legally, Pete no longer exists. Only Paige."

"And this is my baby," Paige said, looking down at her napping son. "Your grandson." She looked back up at Mrs. Franklin. "I guess he's the reason I finally decided to meet with you. I realized, by taking care of him, how tough it is to be a parent, and how easy it is to make mistakes."

"This _can't_ be true!" Mrs. Franklin wailed. "This is impossible."

Paige shook her head. "No, it isn't. If you want, I'll show you the name and gender change records at the courthouse. I'll show you the surgical records at the clinic."

"Why did you do this? Why did you stay away for so long? What were you trying to do to us? Why wouldn't you come home?"

Paige shook her head. "You hurt me too badly," she said, trying but failing to hide her pain and bitterness at all the emotional abuse she'd suffered. "You probably don't know how close you all drove me to suicide — several times." She let that comment sink in, watching Mrs. Franklin's shocked expression. "At first, all I wanted to do was to hurt you back. All of you. Mostly, though, I needed out of that emotional hell I was living in. This program — and the counseling that went with it — gave me a way out. It gave me a place where I felt wanted. After I got some self-confidence, I wouldn't contact you because I didn't understand about being a parent, and I wasn't ready to forgive all the pain." She shrugged. "The clinic gave me a way to hide — in plain sight, as my friend Tommi put it. I didn't have to live a hermit out of fear that you'd find me, like I did for almost two and a half years."

Beth decided to add something. "Pete was so emotionally scarred that he lived in very, very primitive conditions, shunning outside contact, for over two years, before he found us."

"What ... what now?" Mrs. Franklin asked fearfully. "Are you going to come home?"

Paige shook her head. "No. I don't know if I can go that far. My ... changes would probably give dad another heart attack. And I can't trust Maggie and Chuck to not tease me or pick on me. Not yet, anyway." She tried to smile. "Maybe we can meet for dinner, someplace that doesn't have ... bad memories. And someday, maybe, I'll be able to come home. Steve wants to meet my family, and my son Michael deserves to know his grandparents."

"Steve?"

Paige smiled. "Steve's ... my son's father. He's a friend. I think he wants to marry me, but I'm not ready for _that_, either." She saw the skeptical look Mrs. Franklin was giving her. "Mom, it's not like that. I'm one hundred percent, head-to-toe, completely female. I'm a woman now. And I'm happy."

After another few minutes of conversation with Mrs. Franklin, during which she slowly accepted that Paige was never going to be her son again, but that Paige was reaching out to let them know she was okay, Mrs. Franklin excused herself. She had a _lot_ to think about.

As Beth and Paige walked from the mall, Paige pushing the stroller, Paige leaned her head onto Beth's shoulder for a moment. "I know that was hard for you," Paige said.

Beth started. "Oh?"

"I know you think of me as your daughter," Paige admitted with a smile. "And I like to think of you as my mother. Meeting with my biological family doesn't change that. You're the one who's been important in my life." She glanced down in the stroller. "You and Michael," she added.

"How do you feel?" Beth asked.

Paige smiled. "Like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders."

Beth wrapped her hand around Paige's waist. "Let's go to the deli for lunch. My treat."

Paige smiled. "Sure thing," she answered, "Mom."

**********

FIN

Author's notes:
Pete / Paige started as a visceral reaction to Morpheus' Twisted story, "Not My Sister's Shadow". In that tale, a boy who'd felt tormented by his family and his 'perfect' older sister Twists into her clone — and then the abuse really starts. What really bugged me about that particular story was that the protagonist was too quick to forgive and patch up things with her abusive family, who had been clueless about what they were doing. After some reflection, I understood why it struck me as so trite and fairy-tale — because I could relate to the main character. I'd suffered significant emotional abuse during my childhood, at the hands of my parents and siblings. I never heard that I was good enough. I never got praise. My siblings tormented me, and got away with it. What I realized is that if I were in that story, I wouldn't have been quick to forgive — if I ever could. I was viewing the story through my own experience, and it didn't fit. I needed a story that wasn't a fairy-tale ending for someone escaping such abuse.

I came up with the idea of an abused child running away young, to escape his emotional hell. He wasn't going to 'forgive and forget' — he'd suffered too much. Next, how to fit it in this genre? Op Rescue. It took some work and a couple of revisions, but I got the story to fit. Every single episode that Pete / Paige describes in her life is directly from mine. If it seems real, it's because it was very real to me - I lived it. Had I catalogued all the abusive events, the story would be thirty chapters in length. In a way, it felt good to have Pete tell his family to get stuffed, that he hated them, and didn't want to ever have anything to do with them again. At the same time, he had something to learn about how parents can make mistakes, and are sometimes blind to what they're doing. The story presented a great way for Pete to grow, and for me to come to grips with some of my own personal demons.

A couple of my early reviewers preferred the story ending without the epilogue. Some like the closure the epilogue brings. It's up to you. You can always pretend the epilogue never happened if you want.