Hiya.  You first met Tom -- a mutant shapechanger who only
takes a new form by dying -- in "So Many Turns."  He popped
up again in "So Many Turns:  In Town Adventure."  Here's
another step in that series, taking a look at yet another twist in
the guy's tumultuous life.

For any who like Tom, he's also a player in "AoA:  Lost
Souls," a story I'm co-writing with Shera Crawler 007.  And
yes, Tom's still a selfless, noble guy in AoA.  In fact, he's the
_only_ selfless, noble character we've got in AoA. ;-)

Any archivists other than Luba Kmetyk and Oberon who want
this series, please contact me first.

PG-13 rating is for language and some violence.

Comments to Kaylee1109@aol.com.

Enjoy!

TCP:  "So Many Turns:  The Man in Her Life"
By Kaylee (Kaylee1109@aol.com) 

Death hurts.  I've learned that time and time again.  It's dark. 
It's cold.  It's scary.  Maybe if a day comes that I can move past
the first enveloping blackness into whatever waits past this
world...maybe then I'll think differently.  But for now I know
the pain of it, and I know it very, very well.

But life sometimes can hurt worse.

_He_ is here again.  Here at the farmhouse we share.  Here in
the kitchen we eat in.  Here with the woman I love, saying
those things that make her cry after he leaves, those words that
bite down on her heart and tear into her gentle soul.  _He_ is
here, and I can't do anything to make him leave, because she
whispers to me at night of needing someone who can talk to
her, someone who can hold her in warm _human_ arms.

And I can only listen and wish again and again that I could be
that someone.

I'm under the table.  It's where I usually stay when he is here.  I
stay there because I can watch his feet and be ready if he ever
makes a move to hurt her...which he never has.  Yet.  But
there's something about the way he watches her
sometimes...the way his eyes glint when her back is turned...it
scares me.  It terrifies me.  And she never sees it, which only
makes it all the worse.

He would kick me, if he dared.  He doesn't like me at all. 
Sometimes I have to wonder if he _knows_...because why else
would he make those gestures behind her back?  Those ways of
moving that tell me more clearly than words just _what_ he
wants to do with -- to do _to_ her.  And why does he look at
me when he does that, smirking and silently _daring_ me to do
something?

And every time he does that, I promise in my own silent way
that I'll only need _one_ excuse to see that he never has the
chance.

She made a beautiful meal tonight.  I watched her slave in the
kitchen for hours preparing it.  Her voice had been high, sing-
song with her hopes for the evening.  Hopes for _happiness._ 
Hopes that she'd _please_ him.  Hopes that he'd tell her, for
once, that she did something _right._

But all he can do is say in that casually cruel way of his that she
could have done _better_ if she'd only _tried._  I can't do
anything but watch as she chokes the tears back behind an
apologetic smile and listen as she tells him she'll do better next
time.  _Next time._

_That's not right._

After dinner they move into the living room.  She wants to
talk, to tell him about her day, to listen to him tell about his. 
Talking is one of her favorite things, though she's too shy to do
it much with others.  Except for me, of course.  But she wants
to talk, and she smiles that sweet smile and takes his hand as
she begins to speak in that quiet, soothing voice of hers...

He tells her to shut up.

He tells her.  To _shut up._

I try to growl.  It comes out more as a hiss, and he looks at me
and laughs when he hears it.  That grating, brash tone that he
always speaks in goes on, telling her how strange, how
_abnormal_ she is for having a _skunk_ for a _pet._  Her eyes
drop.  In a hesitant voice she tries to explain once again that I
am special to her.  He can't understand that sort of
caring..._any_ sort of caring.  All he knows is the way in which
he quiets her...by crushing his foul mouth over hers and
running unworthy hands over her body.

It's like dying without rebirth, watching them.  Trapped forever
in the hurt and the fear and the anger.  Wanting to do
something -- _anything_ to stop them, _anything_ to end the
pain.  But I can't, because she accepts those lips on hers, those
hands that don't belong.  She allows them, thinking that
somehow _this_ touches the core of loneliness deep inside. 
I've tried to tell her without words that she's wrong...that what
he does can't touch that emptiness.  I know all about being
alone, and I know all about finding someone who fills the void
with her mere presence, with her warmth, with the
understanding and gentleness in her eyes...

And what he does with her can't compare to that.

There's something different about him tonight.  The way he
paws at her...demanding.  She pulls away a little and laughs,
high and nervous, asking him hesitantly to slow down, to take
it easy.  He says she doesn't know what she wants.  His arms
go around her again.  I can feel the whine start in the back of
my throat...the need to do _something_...the frustration of
having to wait and see what happens.  She is stiff in his arms,
still trying to smile.  He crushes out that smile with his lips
again.  She tries gently to pull away.

_He's not letting her pull away._

Small, quiet feet carry me across the floor.  Keen eyes watch. 
The moment she tells him "no"...the moment he doesn't listen...

"No."

The word is like nature's music -- not the light, dancing lilt of a
spring shower.  No, this is the crashing, the thundering power
of a raging storm, the lash of electric white that slams to the
earth with force enough to destroy, the winds that howl
through the trees, through the soul, haunting and eerie and
timeless.  _No._  One word, spoken with fear-birthed
firmness...one word that sets me free.

I knew he wouldn't listen.  I could smell the desire on him as
soon as he walked through the door, and it rises now to choke
my throat and burn into my mind.  He doesn't let her go.  She
tries to free herself.  One of his too-large, too-wrong hands
raises, threat in his face and voice.

But I'm here.  And I'm very, very angry.

My teeth this turn are small, but sharp enough to hurt him as I
clamp them over his meaty leg.  He jerks away from her with a
shout of pain and surprise, kicking the leg out reflexively.  The
motion shakes me off, but I'm back in a heartbeat to bite again. 
She's jumped to her feet and is pressing back against the wall. 
The tears have finally escaped to run down her cheeks...and
that only makes me angrier.

I tear at him with everything this small body has to offer, teeth
gnashing, claws scratching.  I've had no practice using the
_other_ weapon that comes with being a skunk, but I'm
perfectly prepared to attempt that now, if it comes to it. 
Anything to stop him.  Anything to protect her.

I'm not given the chance.  One heavy foot raises high, then
stamps down with all his strength on my back.  Something
snaps...I can't feel the back of my body.  My teeth crash
together, blood flowing into my mouth from him and from
something broken inside of me.  Another loud shout...the foot
slams downwards again, higher this time.

"Robert, no!" she screams.  "You're killing him!"  And then my
brave girl rushes forward to try to help _me._

<That's not...how it's supposed to happen...>

My lungs aren't working.  Blood fills my eyes, coloring my
vision.  I hear her feet move.  A thud as something connects
with him.  I want to tell her to stop before he turns on her...but
it's been a long time since I've had a voice to speak with. 
Another scream from her, this time sounding of pain rather
than anger.  I'm lying crushed on the floor, unable to move,
dying too slowly...listening to her cries and raging helplessly.

And I beg shamelessly -- beg whatever gods or Fates or genes
make me what I am.  I plead with all the will in my old, old
soul, asking for a way, _any_ way to save her.

My chest spasms, lungs making another aborted attempt at
drawing life into this body...my brain is on fire, burning and
dying with every passing moment.  She screams again -- my
heart gives a final, desperate thump...

Darkness.

Light.  Vibration.  Sound that travels along the length of body
coiled on the floor, shivering through skin and telling me
instantly where everything, everyone is.  I know what I
am...I've been here before.  Not my favorite form by far, but
this will do.

This will do.

I take a heartbeat to adjust, then uncoil from my new spot in
the corner and slither across the wooden floor with the speed
that has terrified people before.  Only a few feet of length, but I
can feel the folds of my hood caressing just behind my head. 
Size doesn't matter, here.  Only speed.  Danger.  Poison. 

And a cobra is a _very_ poisonous snake.

That wrong wrong _wrong_ fist is up, ready to hit her again. 
He doesn't see me.  He's not ready for the lightning-swift
strike.  Fangs sink into his calf even through the layer of his
trousers.  I arch just a bit as I inject all the venom I can through
the bite.

His scream is loud.  Panicked.  Shrill.  He lunges away from
her, tearing his leg from me.  That doesn't matter now...it's
already too late for him.  Feet stumble across the floor, eyes
wide and fixed on my twisting, twining form.  Behind me, she
sinks to the floor and cups her face in her hands, shuddering.

He backs a step.  I follow.  His balance is already off, but he
staggers towards the kitchen as he tries to escape me.  My
tongue flicks out, back in, carrying the scent, the stench of him. 
Labeling it forever in my mind, though he doesn't have forever
at all.  Minutes, maybe.

But still I follow.

Trembling hands close over a meat cleaver laying on the
kitchen counter.  He waves it in front of him, backing, backing. 
Muscles ripple along my body as scales grip and pull me
forward.  Death.  He's starting to realize that it comes for him. 
He's starting to see it, to know it...though he'll never know it as
well as I.

A last, desperate act of defiance.  A final clutch at -- if not life --
revenge.  He screams incoherently and lunges towards me.  I
strike in the same motion.  Fangs pierce his arm.  The other
raises high, cleaver descending.

But he could kill me a thousand times, and I'd still keep
coming.

With the blade a fraction of an inch from my neck, my mind is
filled with the one thought that holds importance over all
others.

<For her...>

Darkness.

***

Watching them is like dying.  Bitter.  Infuriating.  Watching
that _bitch_ curled up with _him_ on the couch sets a rock-
hard core of rage burning in my chest.  His arms around her. 
Her head against his shoulder.  That maddeningly gentle way
that he touches her, talks to her, listens to her.  The way his
thumb traces along her cheek so slowly.  The way he cups her
chin between his fingers and kisses those traitorous lips.

I want to scream.  I want to kill him.  Kill him and teach her
_exactly_ what her place should be.  Show the betraying little
whore what she needs, what she gets.  Make her watch as I rip
his beating heart from his chest and hold it right in front of his
dying eyes.

But I can't.  It's all I can do to shove my nose hard enough
against the bars of my cage to make it rattle.  All I can do to
draw even _that_ much attention towards me.  She smiles at
him with that simpering expression before looking at me.  I
rattle the bars harder, more demandingly, determined to
express my fury _somehow._

She looks back at him.  That quiet, ridiculously low voice
sounds.  "Tom...did you feed Robert yet?"

He kisses her forehead and smiles at her,  The expression is so
sickeningly sweet I want to vomit.  "Not yet.  I have to go to
the pet store and buy more turtle food."

The rage builds again.  _Turtle food._  I push against the door
once more.  _Turtle food._  This..._thing_...I'm trapped in is
too weak and slow to do _anything_ right!  _Turtle food._  I
can't escape...don't know what I could do if I did...don't know
_how_ they did this to me...  _Turtle food._

Tom crouches down by the cage and gives me that strange
smile of his.  "It's all right, Robert.  I'll have food for you in no
time."  He double checks the padlock on the cage door.  It's a
damned sturdy lock.  "We're going to keep you safe and
healthy.  We wouldn't want _anything_ to happen to you."

I wish to hell I knew why he smiles so broadly when he says
that.

--end--

Notes from Kaylee:  So...does this mean Tom'll never Change
again?  I dunno.  I'm just writing these as they come to me,
people.  Time'll tell, though.  And there's always Robert the
Turtle to torture... ;-)