Part 3 Investigations, and a Cry for Help

The next afternoon, Jane and Marie were chatting together while Jane changed Marie's bed linens and the two girls prepared lunch. Jane was recounting the full story of their mad rush to the Emergency Room and Caitlyn's major role in that adventure. Marie shook her head in disbelief, and then began giggling as the image painted by her friend struck her funny bone. "Lord, Jane, but she must have gotten some very strange and pointed stares, wandering around the waiting room and hospital halls in her bare feet and her face looking like a four-year-old's fingerpainting project."

"She wasn't barefoot," Jane said off-handedly.

"Oh? I guess she had time to change into flats before we left?"

Distracted by stuffing Marie's pillow into a fresh pillow case, Jane responded off-handedly, "She didn't cha . . . " then Jane's eyes went wide and her mouth formed a disbelieving 'O'. "My god, Marie, I just now realized. Caitlyn spent the entire day moving effortlessly in those heels once she focused on you."

"She didn't," Marie asserted staunchly until she took a good look at Jane's face. "Did she?"

"She did," Jane replied thoughtfully. "And now that you mention it, her face was completely passable, too. Once she came back from redoing her face in the hospital's lady's room, that is."

The two friends said nothing for several minutes before Marie asked in a slightly nervous tone. "Jane? Just what is going on here with that child?"

Jane only shook her head. "I don't know, Marie. I really don't know, but now I wonder what will happen tomorrow morning when we try the walking practice again."

~--------------~

The next morning after breakfast, Jane and Darla found Caitlyn happily spoiling Marie with the patient's very favorite breakfast.

"Caitlyn?" Jane called as she came into the room.

"Yes, Ms. Thompson?" The girl answered, looking at Jane more than a little warily.

"Put these on, please," she said tersely as she handed the girl a white shoe box. Jane saw Caitlyn's face go white, and the easy manner that had been so evident with Marie dissolve. *It is as if she is turning into a flesh-toned statue or life-sized mannequin right before my very eyes,* Jane thought.

They worked on Caitlyn for the next hour, nearly getting her killed twice. The three inch heeled ankle boots helped a little. The extra ankle support from the stiff leather uppers kept Caitlyn's ankle from rolling, but she still fell regularly. Jane even had to modify the "course" to keep Caitlyn away from Jane's antique desk and its sharp corners that could easily crack a skull.

At the end of the hour, Jane let Caitlyn slip back into her flats and sent her off to see about lunch preparations. Darla stayed behind with Jane and Marie.

Closing and latching the door, Jane turned back to face the woman and the boy dressed as a girl. "Well, that was certainly as inept as I have ever seen her."

Darla snorted indelicately. "Did you expect anything else, Aunt Jane?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. Yesterday, when Marie was injured, there was suddenly no sign of our Klutzy Caitlyn," Jane answered, staring directly at Darla who had the grace to blush.

At Darla's disbelief, Jane laughed softly. "It's the truth, dear."

"She just walked? In heels? Without falling?"

"Yes, yes and yes," Jane replied in the tones used by Mothers of adolescents for thousands of years. "Actually, she ran, too."

"The question is," Marie interjected, "Is why is she faking like we just saw? Doesn't she believe that you will send her back to Judge Ruth if she doesn't shape up?"

Jane came over and took the seat next to Marie's makeshift bed. "I am not sure of much of anything right now. Yesterday, I would have been positive that the child knows what will happen. Today? As I said, I am just not sure."

"Then, there are a couple of possibilities. A - he really *doesn't* believe you when you say he could get shipped back so he is simply finding a way to make life around here difficult," Darla said ticking off her points on the fingers of her right hand. "B - he thinks he is going back regardless and is trying to make you think he isn't learning so you'll keep him as long as possible."

"Or C," Jane said, "None of the above. Marie, did you notice the change in Caitlyn when she realized what was in the box?

"Now that you mention it, I did. It was like the life drained out of her. One moment she is fussing over me with this huge smile on her face, and the next, she was literally shaking. I could feel the change in her because she had one of her hands on my brow."

"Interesting. I saw her entire demeanor change when she realized what I intended for her to do," Jane added thoughtfully. "It was as if every muscle in her body became rigid. Small wonder that she could not move about in them in that condition."

"But, Aunt Jane," Darla cut in. "You said she did just fine yesterday, and those slingbacks don't give near the support that those ankle boots do. How come she could walk yesterday and not today?"

"Marie's injury, Darla," Jane replied. "The moment Marie was down and screaming, something changed in Caitlyn - physically and mentally. She's the one who settled Marie and then went for the station wagon when the local ambulance wasn't available."

"Weird," Darla said, "And just a bit scary."

"Scary?" Marie asked. "How so, chica? Our Caitlyn evidently has a cool head in an emergency."

"Scary in that, no matter how cool you are under pressure, if you are clumsy for real, you are clumsy in an emergency. I could see her kicking off the shoes if she was cool and collected, but suddenly being able to walk in heels? It doesn't work that way. What that has to mean is that she *can* walk in heels. So what is scary is why has she been falling all over herself whenever Jane tries to get her into a pair?"

"Oh." was all Marie could say.

Jane considered the video tape still hidden in the drawer of her upstairs study. "So, we are back to the question of why would she fail intentionally, and why did she break character?"

Marie looked smug. "She broke because she cares for me."

"True," Jane said. "That much is obvious given how hard she has worked at looking after you, but that is not the entire answer. As Darla points out, given the emergency, she could have slipped off the heels without me noticing. Goodness, I did not even realize until this morning that she *had* worn them all day yesterday."

"Then she forgot," Darla said with some finality. "But that still leaves the nasty fact that she has been faking it ever since she arrived."

"Do you think, Darla, that even the most determined boy would intentionally injure himself to thwart me? Maybe the first time was an accident - he didn't realize that it would hurt that much, but then to turn around and do it again, injuring his other ankle even more severely than the first? Before Nurse Nora arrived, I was certain he'd broken his ankle that time and I don't ever want to go through *that* again. If he *is* that determined, then I agree, the boy is frightening and moreover, he needs help that I cannot give him."

"Why not, Aunt Jane?"

"Because to a certain extent, my program relies on a student's basic self interest and instinct for self protection to work. At least in the early stages it does. For the most part, that means that my little precious is afraid of being caught out in his petticoats and skirts, but if a student is not afraid of that, it ruins everything. A student who would willingly accept public discovery would leave me completely impotent because I could not take him out in public. There'd be too many repercussions to my other boys."

"But that is not the same thing here, Aunt Jane. Caitlyn is just as terrified as any other student when you drag us down to the Chalet or to the mall."

Jane smiled ruefully. "But it *is* much the same thing, dear, if Caitlyn is a student who willingly accepts serious injury to resist me. Such a child has issues that need to be dealt with by an therapist experienced in dealing with such self destructive behaviors. Neither my program nor I are equipped to deal with that."

"You've had boys with destructive pasts before, Aunt Jane."

"Ah, but their destructive urges were always aimed outward, away from themselves. Part of the benefit of putting them into skirts is that they cannot freely vent that destructive fury without giving themselves away, which is the one thing they find worse than swallowing their anger and obeying me. If Caitlyn has inwardly directed destructive inclinations, then my program is worthless to her."

"But she's been such a good child here, Jane," Marie protested. "I know she hasn't learned very much about some things, but she has always been ready to help in the kitchen or to clean up the house. And now, she is taking care of me."

"I know, Marie. That is why I am baffled. Those behaviors don't ring true with a boy who is willing to break his leg to avoid doing what is expected or desired from him. I just wish I could confront him on it. Catch him in the act, so to speak."

The threesome sat quietly for a few moments considering that idea, and then Darla's finely featured face broke out in a mischievous grin. "How about this idea, Aunt Jane?"

~------------~

Jane and Darla watched Caitlyn again fuss over Marie. Darla's plan had worked perfectly. Now all Jane had to do was figure out how to deal with the results.

Following a superb lunch - the kitchen truly was one aspect of her masquerade that Caitlyn had mastered - Jane had again ordered her student into the ankle boots. This time, in accordance with Darla's scheme, Jane had Caitlyn walking around the room such that one leg of each lap was close to Marie's bed.

It had only been a matter of time until Caitlyn had lost her balance near Marie. Acting her part to perfection, Marie had made a seemingly instinctual lunge to catch the falling girl-boy.

And had screamed!

In the passage of a heartbeat, Caitlyn had been at the bedside, cursing herself for being responsible for Marie's renewed pain while trying to resettle Marie comfortably. She'd moved about efficiently - puffing a pillow, repositioning and immobilizing the injured knee, finding Marie's pills and getting a glass of water.

All while still wearing the three inch heels.

Caitlyn finally satisfied herself with her patient's condition, and only then remembered Jane. Shyly, she turned to face her teacher and tormenter and became instantly aware of Jane's focused scrutiny.

For several moments, she simply stood there, waiting for Jane to say something. When she didn't, Caitlyn felt like fidgeting, but knew that would only earn her a scold for ladylike behavior. Finally, she could stand it no more. "I. . . I am sorry, Ms. Thompson, but when Marie hurt like that, I forgot the exercise," she offered hesitantly.

The half mocking smile that curled only one side of Jane's mouth did little to reassure the young man in feminine dress. Jane gave a half snort, half laugh and replied. "That is evidently not all you forgot, Caitlyn."

The sardonic tones confused Caitlyn as much as the words. "I. . . I am afraid I don't understand, ma'am."

Jane did not immediately answer, choosing instead to simply watch the girl. At long last, however, not even Jane could stand the quiet any longer. "Your shoes, Caitlyn," she said in a dangerously gentle voice. "You have forgotten you are wearing that pair of high heels. Sufficiently to move quite gracefully in them."

Shock rippled through the girl as she stared down at her own feet in mute disbelief. When she looked back up, Jane was again smiling that awful half smile. "Just as you did yesterday when we took Marie to the hospital."

"Oh. . . my . . . god. . . " Caitlyn said, recalling the previous day.

Jane lifted a single brow in high challenge. "Indeed," Jane's voice was coldly curt and commanding. "Why don't we go up to my study and discuss this. . . .miracle in private, Caitlyn. Darla, see to Marie, please."

Spinning on her heel, Jane headed for the door, only to spin back at the sound of Darla's inarticulate scream, just in time to see Caitlyn's headlong fall to the floor. A sickening thud resounded as her temple hit hard against the ceramic floor tiles.

~-------------~

With Marie on Jane's sofa, the best that Darla and Jane could do for Caitlyn was to stretch her out on the floor. For long minutes, the threesome kept a grim watch on the teenaged figure. Once again, Jane found herself caught between the jaws of a dilemma. She was, by this point, more than half way convinced that Caitlyn was putting on an act - with the shoes, with the makeup and now with this fall. What the girl hoped to gain by this charade was beyond Jane's comprehension, but she must have some goal in mind.

Unfortunately, Jane was not *completely* sure that her charge was pretending to be unconscious. She had certainly felt like dead weight when Darla had assisted Jane in moving Caitlyn. If she *was* unconscious from that fall, then Jane had to get her to medical attention.

In the end, there was really no dilemma at all, Jane realized, if Caitlyn wasn't acting and was actually hurt, she'd been out too long. *And so my life of helping young men ends today, because I stupidly failed to use that tape as reason to ship him back to Ruth two days ago when I first found out,* she thought as she picked up her phone to dial 911.

Jane had pressed the "nine" key and was shifting her finger toward the "one" when Caitlyn moaned and began to lift a hand toward her head. Setting the phone down, Jane moved back to her student and knelt beside her. "Easy, Caitlyn," Jane said softly.

"Oh. . my head," the girl whined as she tried to rub at her temple.

Jane caught Caitlyn's wrist and pulled it away. "Let me see, Caitlyn." Jane ran gentle fingers along the smooth forehead towards the golden hairline. . . . and froze.

A lump, already large, had formed where Caitlyn's head had impacted the floor. "Darla, get some ice, please," Jane ordered.

Caitlyn opened her eyes and looked up into Jane's dark green orbs. "What happened, Ms. Thompson?"

"You fell when you tried to follow me," Jane said neutrally.

"The heels," Caitlyn said softly as she squeezed her eyes shut against the pain. "I am so confused about all this, Ms. Thompson."

"You are not the only one, Caitlyn. Once we make sure you are not badly hurt, we are going to have to talk. I think we have a great deal to say to each other."

~-------------~

Nora Bedford walked into the Jane's downstairs office bristling with barely contained emotion. She'd been called on when Caitlyn kept slipping in and out of consciousness after going back to her room.

"What would you do if I told you he has a slight skull fracture and needs to be in the hospital?" The nurse asked quietly.

"Does he?" Jane asked as she reached for the phone.

Nora regarded Jane for several moments before shaking her head. "No, it's just a bad bump. I am just angry with this whole shtick just now, Jane. That *boy* hurt himself trying to follow you when you have evidence that he cannot walk knowing he is in heels."

"He'd walked just fine when he thought I was hurt, Nora," Marie interjected.

"So what, Marie? There is a large body of incidental evidence about people who do many things in a crisis that they cannot do when they are thinking about what they are doing. You were a psych major, Jane - you told me that when I agreed to be part of your little team. How do you know that he's faking? What have you done to find out if his problem is real or something he is putting on? What just happened here is NOT a test! This makes. . .what? Three times he has injured himself?"

Jane had said nothing during Nora's quiet tirade, but nodded when she finished. "It is the third time, Nora, and you are right. I made the simple assumption that it was an act. Maybe his injuries have been an accident, or maybe he has willingly sacrificed his body in fighting me."

Nora shook her head. "You know what concerned him the most? It wasn't his own condition, I'll tell you that much."

Jane could only shake her head. "He was worrying about who was going to bully Marie into taking her medication, since I told him he was on bed rest for the next day or two," Nora said tartly. "I had to promise him that I would see to his "Ms. Marie" before he'd relax and rest."

"Doesn't sound like a real hard-nut case, does he?" Jane mused sadly.

"No, he doesn't, Jane. And there is no doubt in my mind that his concern for Marie is very real."

"I don't doubt it either, Nora. So, what do you think I should do next?"

"You're the expert, Jane, but if it were me, I'd figure out whether she is fighting you and taking the risk to her body, or if there is something else at work here."

"You're right, of course," Jane answered. "What about Caitlyn? What does she need tonight?"

"Like I said earlier. It is just bad bump. Except for a headache, she'll be fine by tomorrow. She'll sleep the night away, but you may want to keep an eye on her. If she wakes up and needs to go to the bathroom, she may be dizzy or disoriented. She might fall again. Whatever it is with her problem, Jane, I don't think it is intentional or something she does consciously."

"I don't know, Nora. I really don't, but at this point, even subconsciously it poses a significant danger - both to Caitlyn and to everyone else who has ever been associated with my program. I am going to call Eric and ask him what to do next."

"The early student of yours who became a psychologist? The one who came when Michael tried to kill himself?"

"The same. I'll call him in the morning after I sit up with Caitlyn tonight."

"I'll sleep in her room tonight, Aunt Jane," Darla offered immediately. "So you could try to get through to the doctor right away and then get some rest yourself. You look really shagged out."

Shaking her head, Jane smiled at her ward. "No, dear. She is my responsibility. She was hurt because I made the assumption that she was acting out. I will watch over her tonight, but if you would stay with her while I make the phone call?"

Darla returned the smile, and walked over to Jane. "Sure 'nuff, Aunt Jane," she whispered and then kissed her on the cheek. "We'll take care of this one, too."

~-------------~

The phone buzzed in Jane's ear. She felt, rather than saw, Marie's concerned gaze. On the fourth ring, someone picked up. A feminine voice offered, "Davis residence."

"Sylvia? Is that you? This is Jane Thompson."

"Jane," the other woman's voice warmed, "And how is Eric Junior's favorite Godmother?"

"Troubled, I am afraid, dear. I have a boy-girl problem and really need some help. Is Eric home?"

"Sure. . .just a minute, Jane. I will get him for you."

Jane closed her eyes as she waited for her former student to come on the line.

"Jane? What's up? Syl said you had a problem with one of your boys? What can I do for you?" A familiar voice came on.

"Oh, god, Eric. It is such an abysmal mess."

For the next fifteen minutes, Jane briefed Eric on Caitlyn and her antics. "I have never had a situation like this before, Eric. I mean, she danced beautifully, and then when Marie was hurt, she went from a walking disaster to completely competent even carrying extra weight in an instant. She's either faking, and has intentionally injured herself no less than three times, or there is something else happening. *Is* there another explanation?"

Eric was silent for several moments. "Well, I would say it is something to do with the program. . . ."

"Tell me something I don't already know, dear."

"As I was saying," Eric interrupted in exaggeratedly pompous tones, "regardless of which of your two broad options it is, it is something to do with how she is reacting to the program, and apparently, something to do with how she reacts to being public in the program."

Jane considered this before replying. "But *what* is it?"

"I don't really know, Jane," was the equable reply. "But then, my specialty is crisis intervention."

"This *IS* a crisis, Eric," Jane almost yelled into the phone.

"To you, yes, but not in the sense that I mean, Jane. She hasn't attempted suicide or something as drastic as that. Even if she is allowing herself to be injured, that is not an act of desperation so much as an act of defiance. No, something about this whole thing is tied up in your student's self image. I think you need to go to a specialist on this one."

"But I can't do that, and you know it. It was one thing for Michael - he was no longer in skirts unwillingly when we took him to the psychologist in Providence. Caitlyn is, and she might very well expose the whole program if I took her to that therapist."

"How about Doctor Art?" Eric asked quietly. "He knows about the program because he is the one you sent me to see when I wanted to go into psychology. He works with people dealing with gender and identity issues as the main part of his practice and I know for a fact that he thinks very highly of you and what you do with your boys. We talked about that when he was feeling me out for my motivations in studying psychology."

Momentarily, Jane's mind seemed to stop and then flew back to those days at school, more than twenty five years ago. Art Philips had been very special to Jane back then. So special, that Jane herself had broken off with him when it became clear that she could never hope to give him a family. "I. . .I don't have his number," Jane almost stuttered.

"Got something to write with? I have it right here on my desk. It's his office number, but you might try information and see if his home number is listed."

Moments later, the number was indelibly inked into Jane's address book. "Good luck, Aunt Jane. If you think I can help, give me a call. Any time. Gotta run. Eric Junior needs a story. Love you!"

"I love you too, dear. Thank you for the help."

Jane hung up the phone, only to sit staring at it. Art Philips, she mused, after all these years. *You are procrastinating, Jane Thompson. You have a child who needs help and if Art can provide that, then that is who you need.*

Grimly, she reached for the phone and dialed the number. Art was not at his office, but he did have an answering service. The operator on the other end dutifully took Jane's name and number, and that it was vitally important that she speak with the Doctor at the earliest possible time.