Epic Love Story – A Pam and Tara Novel
Chapter 10: Planet Earth
Subtitle: Time To Change, Part 2
(Family Strife; Something's Happening to Quinn)
Author's Notes: Thanks so much to everyone who is reading, enjoying and giving me feedback on this story.
Full Disclosure: I tagged this story as a Pam and Tara novel, which it very much is. A key concept that is explored in this novel over and over is that what something looks like on the surface has nothing to do with what it really is. The very way that this novel is written illustrates this theme. I am giving this disclosure so that readers don't expect to read about Pam and Tara from the very beginning of the story, and then get surprised when that is not the case.
This chapter is part of a section of the novel called the Planet Earth (PE) chapters. The PE chapters are a prequel to Pam and Tara's story. The PE chapters, which includes this chapter you are about to read, do not feature Pam and Tara. However, in my opinion as the author, every single PE chapter is about Pam and Tara. Moreover, when we get to the actual Pam and Tara chapters, you will see that you have been reading about Pam and Tara the entire time, in every single prequel chapter. I am delighted that some readers already see this. Understanding that not everyone will see that or want to invest the time to realize that payoff, I am giving this upfront disclosure so that the reader can decide whether they want to invest in the prequel chapters, or any of this novel. If you only want to read chapters that include the characters of Pam and Tara, wait until the prequel chapters (which include both the Prologue and the Planet Earth Chapters) are finished and the Pam and Tara chapters begin. Check the Table of Contents to this novel to see when that transition from the Planet Earth chapters to the Pam and Tara chapters will happen.
Trigger Warning: There is no nonconsensual sex in this chapter, but there is a very strong scene that is sufficiently suggestive of nonconsensual sex that it may bother some people.
I don't own the True Blood characters or the characters and dialogue from the various social media that I reference in this story. This story, however, is an original True Blood parody and satire; and that's mine.
I'm gonna write this anyway, but reviews, love, constructive criticism and feedback are always appreciated.
Manhattan, New York: Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Quinn entered his apartment quietly. He didn't know if his mother was home, but he didn't want her to see him. He had called a cab to pick him up from Juicy Lucy's Big Bush Club, then made his way back to the Sonoran Desert Army Base. From there he teleported to a base outpost in New York City and hailed a cab home to his apartment on the Upper West Side.
Normally Quinn would have taken the train, which he actually enjoyed; but he noticed people staring at him as he walked through the hallways of the teleport station. He eventually realized they were staring at the bulge in his pants. He didn't know why, but the stares and other looks made him uncomfortable. He just wanted to get home as soon as possible.
Quinn sensed for his mother. Thankfully she wasn't home yet. He went to his room and took off his uniform, stripping down to his Superman boxer briefs. He was hungry, for what he wasn't exactly sure, maybe more milk and chocolate. He went to the kitchen and grabbed two candy bars from his personal shelf in the pantry. He noted that there were only seven bars left. His stock was getting low and would need to be replenished soon. He checked the refrigerator. There was no more milk, but there was a little bit of fruit juice. His mother hadn't gone shopping for groceries in over a week.
He thought for a moment about what else he might be craving, then opened the freezer. He pulled out a three-pound pack of frozen hamburger meat and plopped it into the microwave. Quinn understood how to work the microwave because he used it often to make popcorn. He figured out how to put the setting on defrost, pressed the button and waited. When her heard the bing that signaled the defrosting had finished, he pulled out the package of now soft bloody meat.
Quinn stared at the raw, bloody hamburger meat for a moment, then tore into the package. He grabbed large handfuls of raw meat and stuffed it into his mouth. He scooped and scooped, devouring the whole thing in less than five minutes. He licked his lips and grunted, savoring the taste. He very much liked both the rawness and the bloodiness of the meat. He checked for more, but there wasn't any in the freezer.
Quinn made quite a picture as he stood in the middle of the kitchen, 6'4" and 245lbs of lean, chiseled muscle, wearing form-fitting blue, yellow and red Superman boxer briefs. He also wore matching Superman socks, complete with tiny red capes flowing from the cuffs. He unwrapped the chocolate bar and threw the wrapper in the trash. There was no need to keep the wrapper because Quinn always inhaled his chocolate before it melted.
Quinn slowly chewed on his chocolate bar, savoring the sweet, just slightly bitter taste. It had been a long day, and he still wasn't over his failure during the AV weapons testing demonstration this morning. But sweets made him euphoric, and he felt the terrible memory of this morning slowly dissipate.
As he strolled out of the kitchen and back toward his room, Quinn began to feel tingly all over. The tingling started somewhere inside him and quickly emanated throughout his entire body, all the way out to the tips of his fingers and down through his toes. He tried to contain the feeling, as he had the few times it had happened before. But this time the feeling wouldn't be contained. His body started to shake uncontrollably, so much so that he fell to his knees. His vision blurred, but he could make out his left hand still gripping the remains of his candy bar.
Quinn tried to crawl, but eventually doubled over and gripped his stomach. He grimaced and tears flowed from his eyes. The pain centering in his stomach and flowing throughout his body was the worst kind of pain he had ever felt in his life. His breathing was labored. He could hear himself trying to catch air, his chest heaving up and down rapidly. Quinn's android mind tried to help him. It ran an internal diagnostic and suggested that he stop trying to fight the vibrations flowing through his body and just relax. He tentatively did this for a few seconds, and to his relief the pain in his stomach seemed to subside.
But the relief was only temporary, as sharp jolts stabbed him all over. The stabbing seemed to be most concentrated in his stomach. He had the sensation of a slimy river flowing up from his stomach through his esophagus and pushing up through his throat. His mouth started to water. Something needed to come out. Now. He scurried on his knees to the bathroom. Something told him to go to the toilet.
Quinn sat poised over the toilet, his mouth open. He waited. Then his stomach contracted on its own and he heard himself retching. At first there was nothing. Then he retched and retched and opened his mouth. Suddenly all the chocolate he had eaten rushed out. Then some of the raw meat. He threw up until that cramping feeling left his stomach. Most of the regurgitated chocolate and meat went into the toilet bowl, but some of it spilled onto the edges of the toilet rim and the floor.
Quinn's mouth tasted like putrid chocolate and bile, but he didn't care because his stomach felt so much better. He fell backwards onto the floor, not feeling the cold tile on his back. He felt exhausted. After his stomach calmed down, he raised his left hand and found the remnants of his candy bar still in the clutches of his fingers, which were coated with melted chocolate. He suddenly couldn't stand the smell of chocolate, which was odd because chocolate had always been one of Quinn's favorite things.
He threw the chocolate bar in the toilet, then flushed. He knelt in front of the sink and scrubbed all the melted chocolate off his hands. He tried standing. He was tentative, but found it was okay. He remembered that his bladder felt full. He stood back away from the toilet and worked to urinate. It was hard because of the erection. Quinn didn't get very many erections, so he had little practice with peeing in such a condition.
As he urinated, Quinn felt the same vibrations again and started to panic. He heard a low growl come from his throat. Suddenly, his eyes began to glow bright orange. Shifting. I'm about to shift. Quinn couldn't remember why, but he knew he didn't want to shift.
He used all his energy to tamp down the feeling. He concentrated all his energy on not shifting, until the vibrating feeling went away and the orange glow left his eyes. Unfortunately, because Quinn used all his energy to keep from shifting, his mind didn't concentrate on peeing straight. He missed the toilet. He didn't notice that his urine had an unusually strong and pungent smell.
Quinn made his way into his room and collapsed on his bed. He was exhausted but not ready to sleep yet. He remembered that the Chillers channel was showing a horror movie marathon all week. He turned on the television and blankly stared at Psycho, the original version with Anthony Perkins and Janet Leigh. He liked this movie. It made him smile.
His cell phone rang. He felt around for it on his bed and answered. "Hello."
"Hi, Quinn. Just checking on you. Are you okay?" Afrida's voice flowed into his ears.
"Yes, I'm fine," Quinn lied. Then he quirked his brow. His android mind raced. He had just done two things he had never been previously able to do. The first was lie. He always had to answer truthfully, giving a painstaking amount of unnecessary information.
The second thing was quirk his brow as a response to an unexpected surprise. It wasn't that Quinn couldn't physically quirk his brow; but he had never understood the expression's various nonverbal meanings. Nor did he understand the many appropriate times that warranted such a countenance. The only time Quinn previously quirked his brow was as a sign of confusion.
Now he found himself amused at both his sudden ability to lie, and his separate ability to nonverbally express surprise at that suddenly realized talent. He was off in his head wondering what else he might now be capable of doing.
Afrida asked, "Do you have a cold? Are you impersonating someone from a movie?"
Quinn answered, "Neither. Why do you ask that?"
Afrida answered, "Because your voice is almost two octaves deeper. And, I don't know, your cadence is different … more flowing."
Quinn reiterated, "No."
There was several seconds of silence. This would normally be time filled with Quinn speaking for long stretches about not having a cold, or not impersonating someone in a movie, or exploring in-depth why his voice might suddenly be two octaves deeper.
Afrida asked, more than a little confused by Quinn's sudden stoicism, "Sooo, how was your evening with M and the boys?"
Quinn immediately responded, "It was nothing. We had steak."
Afrida pressed, "Did you go to the strip club?"
Quinn was minimalist in his reply, "Yes."
"What happened?" Afrida asked after several seconds of silence.
"The generals drank lots of alcohol. There were women there dancing," Quinn said.
Afrida asked, "Did someone dance for you?"
Quinn's response was prompt but short. "Yes."
More silence. "And what happened when the woman danced for you?"
Quinn paused for a brief moment, looking down at his erection. He decided to practice lying again, "Nothing. I just left." Before Afrida could ask another question, Quinn wound down the call, "I'm tired. I'm going to sleep now."
"Oh, okay. I'll see you tomorrow, then." Afrida sounded even more confused. Before she could say anything else, Quinn hung up the phone.
# # # # #
Helena rushed into the apartment and headed straight for Quinn's room. She had not been the most tuned in to their Were bond during the past two weeks, but the pain bolting through to her from Quinn's end was too resounding to be ignored.
She opened Quinn's door and found him lying down with his back to the door. This time Helena didn't stop at the threshold. She walked straight over to her son and sat on the edge of his bed.
She jostled his shoulder, feeling a little antsy about what might be wrong with him. "Quinn, are you okay? I felt you earlier."
No answer. Helena pulled him over and found his eyes closed. She shook him harder now. "Quinn!"
Quinn calmly opened his eyes and stared at Helena, unblinking. After several seconds, he said, "Yes, Mother."
Helena was initially taken aback when her son turned over, by both his appearance and the sound of his voice. She admittedly had not focused on him very much over the past two days. Between being under so much pressure at work and arguing with M, she had really just communicated with him in passing. More to the point, if she was honest, she had been avoiding him, afraid of his questions and needs because she didn't have the energy for them.
Quinn had a five o'clock shadow that looked more like a full day, maybe more, without a shave. It was as if his hormones were pumping out hair in overdrive. His slightly curly, pitch black hair was longer and his eyebrows thicker than she had seen them in years. He obviously hadn't been to the barber in a while. Helena suddenly remembered, with guilt, that Afrida usually accompanied Quinn to get his haircuts.
Quinn was an extremely handsome man, but always in a military, superhero, clean-cut kind of way. Now, with his unruly hair, five o'clock shadow and … something in his eyes … he now looked ruggedly handsome. Dangerously handsome. The kind of handsome portrayed in movies in which the normally level-headed heroine allows herself to be swept away against her better judgment. Try though she might, she just cannot resist whatever dark adventure he's pulling her into, even though she knows deep down its going to involve danger to her life, criminal activity and fucking. Lots and lots of fucking.
But what made Helena stop moving for several long moments was her son's voice. Quinn had always had a deep voice, even when he was a child; but the two words he just spoke were noticeably closer to bass than his normal middle baritone. And the cadence was flowing and melodic, not monotone or rigid.
Helena asked her son another question, mostly to make sure she wasn't hearing things. "Are you sick? You were hurting earlier."
Quinn replied in the same deep, melodic voice, "I was ill, yes. But now I'm fine."
"Well, what was wrong?" Helena still looked worried.
"Just something I ate. I'm fine now, Mother. I'm going back to sleep." Quinn started to roll over. Helena held his shoulder. Quinn's eyes widened as she moved her hand down to check his stomach. He didn't know why, but he didn't want his mother to see his erection. He wasn't embarrassed, but something told him she wouldn't like it.
Quinn pulled on his sheet against Helena's downward push to uncover him. He said somewhat harshly, "I said I'm fine."
Quinn's behavior was confusing and disturbing to Helena. He sounded … angry. Very angry. It suddenly occurred to her that Quinn had probably heard her and M arguing. She replayed the past two weeks, and with increasing guilt realized that there were wide gaps of time for which she could not account for Quinn. She didn't know what was going on with him emotionally, or how he had been spending his time.
Helena checked in with the Were bond. Quinn was agitated, confused, and … then suddenly nothing. It took Helena a moment to realize that her son was blocking her access to his emotions. When did he learn to do that?
Quinn interrupted her thoughts with, "I'm going to sleep now."
Helena urged, "Quinn. I … I'm sorry that I haven't been focused on you lately. I'm sorry I haven't really been around. Would you like …? Do you want to talk to me about what's been going on? Do you want to talk about anything?"
Helena flooded her son with warmth and love from the bond. Quinn felt his mother's love and warmth. He thought for a moment. He had been distant from his mother for some time now. He realized in that moment how much he missed her. He was confused by his sudden urge to shift tonight. Maybe he could talk with his mother about that. He was feeling … out of sorts. Maybe he could get back to his old self with her help.
He felt warm as his mother ran her fingers through his hair. Quinn started, "Well, I …"
Helena heard the door opening. It was M. She looked for long seconds toward the door. She wanted to go to her husband, but she also wanted to stay with her son. The distraction of M coming home and Helena's conflict about where to focus her attention took up all her energy for a moment. The flood of warmth she was directing toward Quinn dissipated, and the glimmer Helena thought she saw in her son's eyes disappeared.
Quinn's voice was cold again as he said, "It's okay, Mother. General M needs to speak with you."
Helena was still wavering, trying to decide what to do; but she could hear M's thoughts, and he wasn't happy. Quinn rolled over and said, "Good night, Mother."
# # # # #
Helena walked into her bedroom, still agitated about Quinn. She found M sitting on the edge of the bed, slamming down his shoes on the floor. He stood and undressed. Helena didn't need to read her husband's thoughts to tell that he was drunk. He smelled of too much alcohol.
Helena closed the door, wary of M's mood. He spoke out loud, but didn't look at his wife. "It was a lovely evening. I was so happy to hear in varying terms how I am such a fuck up, but thank goodness Generals Helena and Afrida saved the day. I am very lucky to have a wife like General Helena, so calm and in control; and able to execute kills in an unplanned field test that I couldn't perform in a controlled environment. Apparently, you are the modern woman."
Helena didn't believe the conversation went exactly as M described. She knew M well enough to know that he was likely exaggerating because he was a perfectionist and couldn't bear falling short, even a little bit. But she didn't want to antagonize him.
Helena sat on the edge of the bed and whispered, "I didn't ask for that, MacArthur. I was just trying to help. We're in this together. I wasn't trying to … outshine you, or belittle you. I also felt … bad … because I know that my … our conversations about Afrida … I know you weren't at your best, partly because of me."
"Partly?" M asked facetiously.
"Okay, you didn't perform well because of me. It was all my fault. And I tried to fix it." Helena didn't want to argue with M anymore.
M came over to Helena and stared down at her. His eyes weren't focused, and he slurred his words slightly. "Yes, you're very good at fixing things, Helena. You mean well. You have strong views about what direction to take in a given situation. You are a true general. You support your troops and your family admirably."
Helena sensed that M was getting angrier as he spoke. She tried to soften his mood. "I tried MacArthur, to take care of you. That's all I was trying to do. That's all I want."
M smiled, but the smile wasn't cheerful. It was aggressive. "Really, my beautiful wife. You want to take care of me. Well then, this is one of those rare occasions when we are on the same page, because right now I want you to take care of me."
M roughly unbuttoned Helena's jacket and pulled it down her arms. He then proceeded to methodically unbutton her shirt. Helena remained silent. She could read his thoughts. She knew he wanted sex.
M's thoughts were more despondent angry than pissed off angry. He wasn't calling her a bitch in his head. She was tired and not particularly aroused at the moment, but Helena decided that she could work her mind around to this, especially if it would bring the two of them closer together.
M looked somewhat surprised when Helena helped him finish undressing. When they were both nude she pulled him down on the bed. He pulled back and said, "One more thing. I want to be on top."
Helena took a deep breath. She had prepared to have sex with M even though she wasn't entirely in the mood. She figured slowly connecting with him would eventually get her fully aroused. But M's request to be on top was not something Helena was sure she could accommodate right now.
Helena had been engineered to be the alpha by her human makers. At times she wondered whether they took some pleasure out of giving her this role and contrasting it with M's inbred drive to be a soldier, to fight and conquer.
Basically, their makers had concocted a dynamic that invited constant war between husband and wife. In reality, Helena and M had resisted the destiny given them by their human makers. M had compromised significantly, by accepting the beta role and all that went with it. Afrida's presence had helped immensely to bridge the gap between the two of them. She gave M the opportunities for dominance that the conquering soldier craved, and simultaneously relieved Helena from fighting against her innate desire to dominate and never be submissive.
Despite all of this, Helena operated on principles of fairness, and some amount of guilt. She understood the depth of M's compromise out of love for her, and as often as possible she fought against her hard wiring to yield to M's dominance. There were, however, practical considerations that had to be navigated. Helena needed some warning and time to mentally accept the idea. She did not do well with demands. In fact, the way she was wired made it impossible to respond to them, and M knew this; which translated to Helena that although he was asking for sex, he was really looking for a fight.
Helena knew her husband well. He was calculating, especially when motivated by anger; and excellent at chess. She deduced her husband's possible goals in demanding something he knew she couldn't give, and didn't like any of the prospects. She didn't have much time to think, however, because M had flipped her on her stomach and was pressing into her, mounting her.
Helena closed her eyes, trying to breathe and clear her head. She told herself she could do this, and if it would make M happy she would try. But then she felt his hand gripping the back of her neck, and the instincts that had been bred into her kicked in against her will. She abruptly raised her head against the downward pressure of M's hand and her eyes glowed yellow. She bucked and kicked, which sent M partially airborne. He had anticipated this, and gripped her arm with one hand and the side of the bed with the other.
Helena was momentarily caught off guard when she felt air between their bodies, quickly followed once again by M's weight on top of her. Helena's eyes glowed even brighter, and she growled low in her throat. She heard M growling above her, followed by the feel of his knee forcing her legs open and his free hand slipping underneath her to raise her hips. His other hand continued to grip the back of her neck.
Helena lost it when she felt him trying to enter her. Without thinking, she kicked the back of her heel straight up, connecting with her husband's testicles. He yelped in pain, and before he could recover she raised her body and head sharply upward, slamming into his nose. She used the bit of space she created to quickly turn over and around to face him. Her teeth glinted and she growled as she hit M hard in the chest, which catapulted him off the bed and into the wall.
M got up and sped toward Helena. She evaded. He grabbed. She blocked. They kept at this for several minutes until Helena gained the offensive, gripping M's hair with her fist, then wrapping her forearm around his thick neck and squeezing. She was almost feral as she squeezed M's neck, intent on causing him pain and showing him why he should never again attempt to force her into sexual submission.
Helena focused intently on this goal, until she caught sight of her husband's reflection in the large glass window across from their bed. He wasn't fighting back, and she saw that his eyes were glistening. He was breathing deeply, his intake low and raspy. The one and only time M had come close to crying was when their human creator, Dr. McFadden, was dying. He looked and breathed the same then as he was now. Helena had never seen her husband cry, and she didn't want to.
The alpha wolf retracted her teeth, which she had bared as she fought her husband. Her death grip around M's neck loosened as she brought a hand to stroke his face. The other hand parted his hair. Still pressing her chest against his back, Helena kissed the top of M's head and whispered, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, MacArthur. But you knew this would happen. I can't help it."
When the arguments first started, Helena had wished for her husband's silence. Now she wanted more than anything for him to say something. Anything. She implored, "MacArthur, please. I'm sorry. Let's just … go slow. I'll try. I promise."
Helena continued to stroke and kiss M, but he just sat still. He looked catatonic, except for the slow, deep breathing. She disliked the vacant stare. It scared her. She whispered, practically begging now, "MacArthur, say something."
To Helena's relief, M opened his mouth to speak. But her relief was going to be short lived. M said, no feeling in his voice. "I'm going to ask you three questions. I want you to promise to give me an honest answer. Do you promise?"
Helena's heart started to race, but what else could she do? She whispered, "Yes."
M said in the same monotone, "My questions are simple. I want yes or no answers. No caveats. No explanations. First question."
Helena tried to sense her husband's thoughts. He made great effort to block them, but not before she picked up Man From Dallas. Helena suddenly felt sick to her stomach.
M said, "How many times had you seen or spoken to the Man From Dallas before you fucked him in July 2009."
Helena wanted to flee the room. She gripped M tighter, thinking how to answer. M's words broke apart her thoughts. "How many times, Helena?"
"Let me explain …" Helena started. M cut her off. "I'm sorry, Helena. I guess I asked a compound question. I retract. First question. Did you ever see and/or talk to the Man From Dallas at any time, for any reason, prior to July 2009? Yes … or no?"
The silence filled the room. M asked, his voice elevating and angry now. "Yes … or no?"
Helena took in a deep breath and said, "Yes."
M blinked several times, but otherwise didn't move. He stoically asked, "Now, how many times did you see or speak with him, for any reason whatsoever, prior to July 2009?"
When he got no answer, M asked, "One?"
No answer. Pause. M blinked.
M asked, "Two?"
No answer. Pause. M blinked.
M asked, "Three?"
No answer. Pause. M blinked several times.
M asked, "Four?"
No answer. A very long pause. M blinked and breathed in deeply.
M asked, his voice breaking slightly, "Five?"
No answer. Helena prepared to answer and then explain when M reached the number six. But he didn't. Instead, M blinked repeatedly as he said, "We wisely decided that perhaps fidelity and eternal marriage might have to mean something, different, for beings who live such long lives. It's not a sixty, seventy, even eighty year commitment. Eternity means something much, much longer for us.
We knew that each of us at some point would crave conquests. Adventures. New experiences. Stories to tell. So we accepted that longing and desire, and incorporated it into our marriage. Virtually nothing is off limits, provided that permission, advance permission is requested.
We even made a contingency rule for the rare occasion when advance permission isn't possible. Post disclosure. But of course this was reserved for, I don't know, you're stranded in Antarctica with no cell phone service and a beautiful Werepenguin wants to fuck your brains out. That doesn't provide an exception for, I don't know, wanting to fuck a short vampire in Dallas, Texas where cell phone coverage is excellent.
You wanted this encounter, Helena. And you wanted it all for yourself. It was premeditated. You had the forethought to send a text message. A message that gave no hint of what you were doing.
You've always been a stickler for rules, Helena. Especially the rules of your marriage. Hell, you called or texted me and Afrida for permissions that barely invoked the rule. Make out sessions with beautiful fairies. Fondlings and sharing of blood with sexy vampires. Sensual wrestling with that French stewardess werewolf you met while on assignment in Angola. Yet you didn't call to say you wanted the experience of taking dick from some short shamanistic vampire?
Knowing you as I do, Helena, I could think of only one reason why you would keep such a secret. You had to have known this person previously, and developed some kind of emotional attachment.
Which brings me to another rule of our marriage. No sexual encounters with people we know or with whom we've had previous encounters. You. You, Helena, were very firm about this rule. You felt that it solidified the notion that such adventures were always about us, and not a separate experience between one of us and another outside our marriage. It's funny that both me and Afrida, who isn't the most rules-oriented person mind you, have been able to follow this rule perfectly during the course of our marriage.
Helena interjected, still holding on to M, "I know how this sounds, MacArthur. But it's not like that. I didn't go out to dinners with him. I didn't plan to meet him places and …"
"No," M stated firmly. "You've had plenty of time to proactively discuss this. You never brought it up on your own. You wanted to avoid it. This has been hanging over our heads for over a year now.
Which brings me to another rule of our marriage, and my second question. Second question. Have you at any time to date told Afrida about your July 2009 fuck with the Man From Dallas? Yes or no?"
Helena protested, "I didn't fuck …"
"I retract and rephrase," M said calmly. "Have you told Afrida anything about your 2009 "spiritual encounter" with the Man From Dallas? Does he know that you engaged in some undefined spiritual activity in his bed?"
Helena sighed and whispered, "No." This time her voice cracked.
M lamented, still not moving, "We agreed that problems, or issues if you would rather delude yourself with that word, would be discussed by each spouse with the other spouse. No he said she said. Direct and open conversation among all three of us. Your … encounter with the Man From Dallas clearly falls into such a category. Yet you haven't broached this discussion with Afrida.
I've held this in, waiting for you to do the right thing. Waiting for you to follow your own rules. But you seem intent on trying to sweep this under the rug. You hate admitting you're wrong, Helena. You don't like apologizing. Don't you think Afrida and I know that. We let you get away with it 99% of the time. But this is too big for that. It hurts me too much, and I don't understand it, so I can't just forget it.
Helena once again interjected, "MacArthur, I…"
"No!" M forcefully cut her off. "You think this is about poor Helena, trying to save unwitting Afrida and fighting against selfish MacArthur. Only Helena knows what's right and best for everyone, if only her stupid family would fall in line. That may be what it's about for you, but it's not for me. And I'm sure it won't be for Afrida, either. There are three spouses in this marriage, not one.
Being the alpha isn't about imposing your will and expecting blind obedience. It's about being someone who others follow because they trust and believe in you. I'm not resisting you because I don't believe in you. I resist you because I don't trust you, and I can't trust you until we deal with this issue."
Helena started, "MacArthur, I …"
"No!" M blasted. A pool of water filled his eyes, but he fought to keep them in. Then calmly, "Now. Question three. Final question."
Helena held her breath, because the questions weren't getting any better; and M wasn't letting her in his head to get a clue about what he was going to ask. The minute she heard the question, she instantly knew that M's demand to mount her sexually was never a real demand, but instead a well-played, calculated move to get to this discussion point.
M calmly asked, "When you fucked the Man From Dallas, how much deference did you give to him?"
Helena shook her head, "What are you …?"
M asked, more forcefully now, "When you fucked the Man From Dallas, did you let him mount you? Were you submissive to him? Did you let him get on top and fuck you?"
Helena felt trapped. She started, tears falling from her eyes, "I … please …"
M, who this entire time had sat so still he seemed almost dead, suddenly sped sideways. Before Helena could process what happened, M had grabbed her by the neck and slammed her into the mattress. He hovered over her, pressing into her.
Helena looked up at M. Now he looked feral, his fangs bared. His eyes glowed yellow and he was growling loudly. Helena willed herself to keep her hands at her sides and relax her body underneath him, so as not to antagonize him further. She briefly glanced down, aware of his erection barely pressing into her, poised to enter. She read his thoughts and knew what he was contemplating. She swallowed, because he was currently fighting within himself about what he would do.
M growled out, "Did you let him be on top? Did you give him willingly in a one night stand what you just viciously fought over … against me, your husband of more than a hundred years? Yes … or no?"
Helena looked up at MacArthur. She now ignored how dangerous he looked on the outside, because he had stopped fighting her invasion of his thoughts, and she knew that on the inside he was crying. On the outside, his eyes were full of water, which made his feral stance more tragic than threatening.
M repeated, Yes … or no?"
In that moment, Helena wished she could turn back time and change her decision to share flesh with the Man From Dallas. She wished that she had at least called M and Afrida in advance and told them what she planned to do.
Helena took a long, deep breath and whispered, "Yes."
Immediately after she said that word, Helena watched as the first tears her husband ever cried fell in slow motion. For only a single second, one long stream out of each eye poured out of M. Two thundering, angry splashes plopped onto Helena's face. M blinked back the rest of his tears. Then his eyes widened, as he processed that he had actually cried.
Before Helena could say anything, M sped away from her and into their bathroom. Helena heard him throwing up. She could tell herself it was all the alcohol he had consumed, but she deliberately avoided his thoughts because she knew the real cause of his regurgitation.
Helena lay prone, numb. She watched M barrel out of the bathroom and get dressed in a blur. He sped out of their bedroom. Then their apartment door opened and shut as M zoomed off into the night. He didn't say where he was going, but Helena already knew.
# # # # #
M didn't slow down until he was blocks away from his apartment. He moved on autopilot, unable to think. He slowed his speed to a brisk walk as he made his way to the nearest Army teleport station. Destination – Washington, DC.
M didn't know what would come tomorrow, or in the coming days and weeks. A predictable family routine used to stretch out before him like a straight road through the flatlands of the Sonoran Desert. But now all he saw was a bumpy, uneven terrain that afforded little visibility of what lay ahead.
The only thing he knew for sure was that at this moment, MacArthur Stoker hated his bitch wife, one Helena Wolfe.
Manhattan, New York: Wednesday, September 8, 2010; between 3:00 – 4:00 am
Despite the silence that now blanketed her apartment, Helena couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned in her bed, which felt like a large open space because two of its usual occupants were missing. Helena got up, left her bedroom and walked down the hallway to the kitchen to get a glass of water.
On her way there she passed by Quinn's bathroom. She stopped as the smell hit her. Her nostrils flared. Urine, and not just urine. It was pungent. Quinn hadn't shifted since he was eight years old, but every now and then his tiger hormones kicked in and changed the scent of his urine. Apparently, this had happened tonight.
She thought about waking Quinn and making him clean it up, but she remembered that he hadn't been feeling well and gave him a pass. Quinn was usually quite neat and this hardly ever happened. Besides, she needed something to do since she couldn't sleep.
Helena drank her glass of water, then entered Quinn's bathroom with cleaning supplies. She turned up her nose at the sight of putrid chocolate and something red and unrecognizable – meat, maybe - on the toilet seat and floor. And the hideous smell of cat piss. I hate cat piss.
Helena periodically thought this in her mind as she scrubbed and rescrubbed Quinn's bathroom. Helena was tired and unfocused, so she wasn't attuned to the fact that her son could now read her thoughts. Had she had the presence of mind, literally, to look around inside her head, she would have turned around to see a tiny tiger cub sitting quietly in the corner of her mind.
That tiny tiger cub was, in Helena's mind, behind her, watching and listening as she knelt on her knees scrubbing the toilet. But Helena was emotionally upset and physically exhausted, so she didn't see that little tiger cub sitting in the corner of her mind, scowling each time she complained about the stench of cat piss. She didn't realize that her booming thoughts about the hideousness of cat piss were flowing from her mind into Quinn, who lay awake in his bedroom next door.
# # # # #
Dr. Quinn McFadden, the brilliant Army scientist who led the Army research team that used the emerging knowledge of quantum physics to create M, then Helena, and later Quinn, had died several decades ago. At the time his creations were made, the military had no long term plans for them beyond war. The Army brass imagined that at some point, M, Helena and Quinn would get killed, as they were placed in increasingly dangerous situations. But the three of them exceeded Dr. McFadden's wildest dreams, and by the end of World War I he had grown to love them. By the time World War II started, Dr. McFadden was no longer a detached scientist, but more like a devoted father to his creations.
Helena, like many women, longed to be a mother. She grew despondent when she learned that she was not created to bear children. Dr. McFadden, who could not bear to see his created daughter unhappy, diligently searched for a solution. One day he excitedly came to her and M with a promising idea. According to the popular history known to most people, the first test tube baby was Louise Joy Brown, born July 25, 1978 in Oldham, a town in Greater Manchester, England. However, the first ever test tube baby was in fact Quinn, later surnamed Blake, who was born to MacArthur Stoker and Helena Wolfe on September 20, 1936.
Dr. McFadden used the remaining genetic material he had from the organic android, fairy, maenad and vampire, but he needed a Were to create the bond with Helena. He searched for a comparable wolf, but had no luck. He then chose a Weretiger that he believed had similar, very strong alpha attributes. He also gave Quinn a separate in vitro infusion of Godric's blood, since he still had regular access to the willing vampire.
Dr. McFadden implanted into Helena an unfertilized egg having all the vampire, fairy, maenad and organic android attributes, plus the Weretiger, encoded already. He then created "active sperm" for M that contained all his attributes except the wolf. Finally, Dr. McFadden chemically stimulated estrus, a fertile period, in Helena. This made her and M interested for the first time in mating with each other and Helena capable of conceiving a child. This fertile mating period lasted for eight weeks. Prior to this time, Helena and M considered themselves a couple, but theirs was a sexless union.
Dr. McFadden called the inducement of estrus his gift of a special honeymoon period, to be followed by a true, consummated marriage for his children. M and Helena would retain their sexual desires and bonding for life, although it would be imperfect and not as complete as imprinting in regular wolves. However, Helena wouldn't be able to naturally bear any more children.
M and Helena mated repeatedly for eight glorious weeks, enjoying her period of estrus, with Helena intermittently waiting for results from pregnancy tests. She conceived during the seventh week of estrus and had a normal pregnancy. Well, as normal as could be for a wolf carrying a tiger baby.
To create the building blocks for Helena's conception of baby Quinn, Dr. McFadden used the same leftover components, minus the wolf, used to create M and Helena. This consisted mostly of organic android. As a consequence, Quinn's makeup was primarily comprised of the android component. However, Dr. McFadden had a theory that each of his component parts had a strong, innate drive to manifest itself. He believed that Quinn would struggle, but would eventually go through a kind of puberty wherein his non-android components would "make up for lost time." The danger in this, he feared, was that when these suppressed parts within Quinn finally manifested themselves, they would be raging and uncontrollable.
Dr. McFadden made plans for his creations to have a life after he died. In the face of significant resistance, he gave M and Helena control of the very program that had created them. On his death bed, he expressed to a tearful Helena and a brimming with tears M his concerns about their son who bore his name.
Dr. McFadden's death was the only time that M almost cried, as he held his creator's hand. Dr. Quinn urged M and Helena to listen to his warnings. "You and Helena aren't just brother and sister. You're almost like twins. Your highly duplicative genetic makeups have been passed along to your son, which means he's going to get the best of the best of you, but also the worst of the worst of you. How that plays out is honestly an unknown to us all.
We … I, played god with the three of you. I don't regret it for one moment. Look at you. You're … so beautiful. How could I regret making you? But, you two need to be prepared for your son's emergence. You will have to deal with it on your own, and it could be frightening. He's not what he's going to be yet. He seems developmentally delayed because the android part of him is controlling and blanketing everything. But that's not going to last forever. It simply can't. It's a rule that cannot be broken."
Dr. McFadden was very weak and just days away from dying, but in that moment he gripped both Helena and M with all his strength and intoned them to listen to him. "Each of you has five lives within you. In the two of you, those five lives are mature and tempered because you were born as fully formed adults. But your son is much different. Right now, the only life manifesting itself in young Quinn is his android self. But at some point those other four lives within him will come forth. They will fight for survival. They will demand manifestation, and when they do they will emerge nascent, pure id and absolute desire.
We fooled ourselves into thinking we could control everything, even life itself. But the kind of control we attempted … it's uhm … it's not possible. If there's one thing that the history of evolution has taught us, it's that life will not be contained. Life breaks free. It expands into new territories and it crashes through barriers, painfully, maybe even dangerously. But … life finds a way."
Manhattan, New York: Wednesday, September 8, 2010; between 3:00 – 4:00 am
At this very moment, while Helena was furiously cleaning Quinn's bathroom, trying to wash away both his cat piss and her guilt about her betrayal of M and Afrida, life was finding a way to break through within her son. It started with blood, the image of it, tricking down the back of Quinn's eyelids. The trickle became a stream. And then the stream became a flood. Quinn's vampire aspect filled him up, all his empty spaces.
But then the blood wasn't red anymore. It became black and pressing, as Quinn's maenad self fought for recognition. Then a bright white light coursed through him and emanated from his fingertips, as the fairy part of himself demanded authority. Then Quinn's eyes glowed bright orange. The fierce tiger within him started burning bright, asserting its lawful right to roam and kill. Quinn felt like his head was going to explode; and the only way to relieve the pressure was to open the floodgates and let everything spill out.
Quinn was born on September 20. Like his currently unknown brother/uncle Eric Northman, Quinn is a Virgo. As any armchair astrologer knows, at his best, Virgo Quinn is extremely analytical, normally quite neat, observant, helpful, reliable and precise. But at his worst, Virgo Quinn is skeptical, self-righteous, argumentative, inflexible, cold and interfering. He is also highly rules-oriented, which can be the best or the worst of him, depending on the particular circumstances.
For example, in the best circumstances, Quinn's rules-oriented nature makes him obedient and completely trusting of his mother. He was a son who gave his mother absolutely no trouble and immense joy. Quinn's Virgo sensibilities also make him focused, loyal, devoted to his family, and somewhat wolfen in nature. In short, he usually gels with and brings out the very best in his mother Helena.
This is good, because Helena was born on August 12. She is a Leo. Her leonine sun sign gives her some help in relating to her tiger son. As any armchair astrologer knows, at her best, Leo Helena is confident, ambitious, generous, loyal and encouraging. But at her worst, Leo Helena is pretentious, domineering, melodramatic, stubborn and vain. Helena is normally calm, as long as she's in complete control. But just under the surface is a fiery temper waiting to be unleashed.
Virgo, rules-oriented Quinn had been listening outside his parents' bedroom door, extremely shocked as he heard his father list off the many marital rules his mother had supposedly broken. The favored son fully expected to hear his mother slamming his beta wolf father against walls, putting him in his place for daring to accuse her of doing something so heinous. But then Quinn listened in confusion, followed by surprise, followed by seething anger, as he heard his always-by-the-book mother answer "yes," affirming that she had in fact broken rule after sacrosanct marital rule.
Perhaps it was the stress of all his parents' fighting, the disruption of his home life and the shocking revelations he had just heard. Perhaps it was just time for his other inner lives to find a way to break through. Or maybe it was some unknowable combination of nature and nurture. Whatever it was, perhaps hearing his beloved mother confess her sins was the straw that broke the camel's back.
Quinn returned to his room and curled up on his bed. He cried for the umpteenth time since his parents started arguing and his entire world was turned upside down. Then something happened, and his inner vampire, fairy, maenad and tiger began speaking. First they were a whisper, then a resounding cacophony.
Baby maenads want nothing more than to relish the natural world, which includes both life and death, as well as sex and music and food and lust.
Baby fairies want nothing more to dance and sing, enjoy mischief and mirth, and yes, they also want sex and lust. As the Man From Dallas noted to his daughter Helena, the fairy drive to satiate its lusts with others does not necessarily depend on the willingness of the object of said lust.
Baby tigers want nothing more than to roam and control a territory. And alpha tigers, of which Quinn was one, wanted to dominate as much territory as possible. And they want lots and lots of sex. Tigers have notoriously high sex drives, and are capable of mating more than fifty times in a single day.
Baby vampires want nothing more, of course, than to eat, fuck and kill.
Frighteningly, all of these baby aspects of Quinn would have a highly advanced and developed android mind at their disposal to help them accomplish their goal of satisfying their every desire. Quinn's mature android mind knew how dangerous all these babies were, and managed to contain them for almost seventy-four years.
But now all the babies were coordinating and forming a coalition, essentially telling Quinn's android mind to step the fuck off. Quinn's android mind was going to be given a new job, whether it wanted it or not. The android's core responsibility would no longer be containment, but damage minimalization for the sole purpose of allowing unfettered satiation of the four babies' every want and desire. The babies gave Quinn's inner android its first assignment, which was to block the Were bond between Quinn and his mother, who was scrubbing away in the bathroom next door. That way, this five-way negotiation could take place without interruption. Although actually, it was a two-way negotiation, because the four babies were aligned into a single coalition.
While his mother was cleaning the bathroom and blasting out mentally how she hated cat piss, Quinn's android mind was engaged in the battle of its life, and it was losing. Quinn flailed on the bed, clutching the sheets. Inside, his inner android worked to prevent the babies from coming to fruition and taking hold. But as Quinn's android mind fought to protect its front from the baby vampire and baby fairy, its flank was maliciously attacked by the baby maenad and baby tiger.
Truth be told, Quinn's android mind was fucking tired. It had worked overtime for decades, its circuitry whirring nonstop. It savored the prospect of simply managing, coordinating and advising, rather than shouldering everything by itself. Quinn's android mind badly needed a fucking vacation, so it listened despite itself when Quinn's vampire, maenad, fairy and tiger components whispered the promise of much needed rest in its ear.
On the outside, Quinn's hands glowed white with fairy light. His vampire fangs were bared; and his eyes changed back and forth between full black maenad pools to glowing orange tiger beacons. His eyes eventually settled on a compromise, a bumblebee background of black sea with orange streaks swimming back and forth therein.
Quinn felt the exact moment when his android's protection systems were fully and irrevocably breached. It was Wednesday, September 8 at 3:42 am, Eastern time. This is when all five of Quinn's parts, four ravenous babies and a mature android, reached a truce and harmonization agreement. Quinn abruptly sat up in his bed and simultaneously retracted his fangs, turned off his glowing hands and recessed his maenad and tiger eyes. His inner android had been beaten into submission, and was now on board with working to give the four babies everything they wanted. All five of his components were now, completely and totally, self-aware and working together.
Quinn quirked his brow as he heard his adulterous bitch mother think I fucking hate cat piss. Quinn, in the form of a tiny tiger cub in Helena's mind, scowled, showed his teeth, and emitted a silent roar at his mother.
Quinn thought to himself you've really got some fucking nerve, bitch. You broke every rule of your marriage. First you send away Afrida, then tonight you send away General M. You single-handedly tore apart our family; and you have the fucking nerve to be up on your high horse about a little cat piss. Pullease.
Quinn had never been able to put together such a complete and angry thought before. He savored it as his emerald green eyes moved slowly over the upper wall of his room, looking at nothing in particular. He felt a haze of desire wash over him. His hormones coursed through him like lightening drawn through a rod and transformed into an electrical current. Quinn felt alive. Awake. Hungry. He wanted to see, hear, smell, taste, feel, touch, eat, fuck; for the first time in his entire life. He allowed himself a devilish half-smile as he said out loud in his suddenly melodic, deep base voice, "And to think, I resisted."
Quinn heard his mother finish cleaning his bathroom and go back to her bedroom. He waited until he heard her door close, then he purposely walked out of his room and went into the bathroom. He looked at the gleaming spotless toilet and floor that was now totally free of chocolate, raw meat and cat piss. He turned up his nose as he inhaled the annoying scents of pine soil, Clorox bleach and other cleaners.
Quinn's eyes glowed bright orange. He was not just a tiger, but an alpha tiger. Alpha tigers need to roam a wide territory that they control exclusively. Yet he now found himself sharing a relatively small, enclosed territory on the Upper West Side in Manhattan with an alpha wolf bitch. Said alpha wolf bitch was also accustomed to unfettered control over her entire territory. Something was going to have to give.
It is a basic rule of the natural world that two dominant alpha predators cannot peaceably occupy the same territory without harming each other. The most respectful things that two alphas can do is to chart out their personal territories, ensuring that they do not overlap. Once boundaries are established, it may be possible for the two alpha predators to co-exist in close proximity with each other.
Tiger Quinn, being a Virgo, was eminently respectful of rules. So he decided to make the first salvo toward keeping his Upper West Side apartment a happy home and peaceably sharable with his alpha bitch mother. He slowly turned back and forth in a semicircle as he peed all over the toilet, floor and tub. He then strolled down the hall and peed a path that encompassed half the kitchen and his bedroom.
After Tiger Quinn finished marking part of his territory, he returned to his bed. He fell asleep savoring the sweet smell of his markings, which signified that his bedroom, his bathroom, and part of the hall and kitchen belonged to him. He planned to mark his part of the living and dining rooms tomorrow when he had more pee.
Washington, DC: Wednesday, September 8, 2010; between 3:00 – 4:00 am
Right now, the goddess was pissed off. Afrida lay nude and reclining, her back resting against a pile of lush pillows on her bed. She relaxed in her two-bedroom apartment in the Watergate Co-op. She sometimes gazed out of her window, which overlooks the Potomac River.
Her self-pleasuring session lasted much longer than expected, extending through both American Idol and Glee and well into late night television. She didn't cum until Chelsea Letterman was saying "goodnight bitches." And after hours of handy work (the pissed off goddess smirked at the double entendre), she found herself only able to accomplish a release that felt far away and lackluster, as opposed to brilliant and explosive. The end result is that she was more frustrated than if she had never embarked on the woefully un-erotic journey in the first place. This pissed her off.
Afrida, for some reason unknown to her, sometimes found it difficult to be in Manhattan. As much as she loved Helena, M and Quinn, and wanted to be with them all the time, she found that sometimes she just needed to get away. She could always tell when she needed to get away because she felt this sudden bout of nausea. It wasn't sickness exactly, but more of a feeling of … aversion. She generally avoided the Upper East Side and Harlem, which helped her immensely. Perhaps there was something in the air in those particular parts of town that made Afrida feel this odd avoidance urge.
Whatever the reason for Afrida's periodic episodes of weariness with Manhattan, M didn't care. He purchased the Co-op in the Watergate for his wife. The whole family had keys and often spent time there, but everyone knew it was purchased primarily to serve as Afrida's get-away. It was a place where she could escape from whatever caused her sudden Manhattan-related angst. Those feelings were usually mild and went away after a couple of days.
Cyprus was new and unusual. That was the first time Afrida had ever felt physical pain, true illness, as a response to a place, or anything for that matter. It was more than just a feeling that she couldn't stay there any longer. Afrida had felt the worst physical pain she could ever recall feeling. She had to leave Cyprus immediately. She couldn't even wait to tell Helena.
Somehow Afrida knew it wouldn't be good for her to go to New York, so she headed straight to Washington, DC from Greece. But now the goddess was ready to return to her home in Manhattan. She had been ready for some time, but Helena had imposed this separation for which she had thus far given no explanation. This pissed Afrida off, a lot.
At first, Afrida worried that Helena was angry because she just abruptly left Cyprus without saying goodbye first. But as time passed, that just didn't make sense. Helena was her wife of more than sixty years, and she knew full well that sometimes places made Afrida sick. So the pensive blonde could think of no logical explanation for why Helena was behaving the way she was. This pissed her off.
Perhaps Alexis Stavros mistranslated the documents she discovered in her Cyprus cave, or perhaps the worshipers of 4,000 years ago got the story wrong. Zeus did not kill the goddess Aphrodite's light. It was more accurate to say that he changed the goddess's light into something brilliant but dark, because right now the goddess was pissed; and an ominous bright light was emanating from her ocean blue eyes. The light glowed on and off with no regular pattern, intermittently brightening her room. A distant neighbor looking into the goddess's window might think it was light from the television.
But Afrida had turned off the television after the Chelsea Letterman show ended. She was now lighting up the wall with her own eyes, as she periodically reached in a basket that sat next to her on the bed. The basket held a Mediterranean assortment of pitted olives, mandarins, figs, persimmons, pomegranates, and pistachio nuts. She mused bitterly that right now she should be in her California King bed in Manhattan serving this fruit of the gods to her wife and husband after a night of mind-blowing sex. The fact that she was in Washington, DC, all alone, pissed her off.
And then there was Quinn. Something was definitely wrong with her son. Afrida guessed he was hurting because of all the craziness going on with his parents. She wanted to be there with him and for him, especially after speaking with him tonight. Quinn's voice was different. She tried to figure out exactly how it was different, and then it came to her. Not only was his voice a full rich base that was noticeably deeper than it was just earlier that same day, but it wasn't his normal staccato robotic monotone. Quinn's voice was suddenly … flowing, melodic, almost … sensual.
And his behavior was just … it was like she was talking to a totally different person, a stranger she had never met before. Quinn needed attention. Now. And the fact that Afrida was essentially being prohibited by Helena from giving her son the attention he needed, for hitherto reasons unknown, was really pissing her off.
Afrida heard her front door open and shut. Without really being conscious of it, she blinked off the pulsing light from her eyes. They once again looked like her usual cerulean orbs. Afrida sensed that it was M, and she waited for him to come in to her.
The goddess watched as her husband entered the bedroom without looking at her. He silently undressed until he was completely nude, then lay down next to her. She opened her arms and he instinctively nestled his huge muscular body into hers.
Afrida stroked his head and ran fingers lovingly through his hair, listening to his breathing. Then she heard him try to withhold a sob, then breathe erratically. Soon MacArthur gave up all pretenses and lay in Afrida's arms, crying openly.
As Afrida listened to the first sobs she had ever heard from her husband, the light behind her eyes began to glow again. This time it was much brighter and more rhythmic than before. Afrida heard his thoughts. I just want to go to sleep. Please. I'm tired, and I just want to sleep.
M's goddess wife periodically kissed his face and shushed him as her hand, now pulsing with light, caressed the top of his head. Light from Afrida's hands shone through M's pitch black hair, but he didn't see this because his eyes were closed. Afrida kept caressing him as she whispered, "Shhh. It's okay. You're going to sleep now. A deep, restful sleep."
Afrida didn't understand why all this hurt and pain was necessary, and the one person who had all the answers to date wasn't talking. This pissed her off to the point of seething. Afrida didn't know what the future held. The end of the agreed truce with Helena was eventually coming. Oh yes, that day of reckoning was coming, although the goddess had no idea what it would portend.
The only thing she knew for sure was that at this moment, Afrida Erasmus hated her bitch wife, one Helena Wolfe.
Sha na na, na na na na na na,
Sha na na na na
Sha na na, na na na na na na,
Sha na na na na
Autumn turns to winter,
And then winter turns to spring.
It's not just for seasons you know,
It goes for everything.
It's even true for voices,
When boys begin to grow.
You gotta take a lesson from Mother Nature,
And if you do you'll know.
When it's time to change, then its time to change
Don't fight the tide, come along for the ride, don't you see
When it's time to change, you've got to rearrange
Who you are into what you're gonna be.
Sha na na, na na na na na na,
Sha na na na na
Sha na na, na na na na na na,
Sha na na na na
Day by day, it's hard to see the changes you've been through
A little bit of living, a little bit of growing all adds up to you
Every boy's a man inside, a girl's a woman too
And if you wanna reach your destiny, here's what you've got to do
When it's time to change, then its time to change
Don't fight the tide, come along for the ride, don't you see
When it's time to change, you've got to rearrange
Who you are into what you're gonna be.
Sha na na, na na na na na na,
Sha na na na na
Sha na na, na na na na na na,
Sha na na na na
When it's time to change, you've got to rearrange
Who you are into what you're gonna be.
Sha na na, na na na na na na,
Sha na na na na
Sha na na, na na na na na na,
Sha na na na na
Ending Scene Song: Time to Change by The Brady Bunch
Credits Song: Planet Earth by Duran Duran
Author's Notes:
(1) Movies quoted in this chapter include Jurassic Park, Dexter and Hellbound: Hellraiser II. Part of Dr. McFadden's warning to M and Helena about Quinn, regarding how life finds a way to break through and survive, is quoted from Jurassic Park. The description of Quinn's transformation into a fully self-aware being is taken from Dexter. It is the character Dexter's description of the killer inside himself, what he refers to as his "Dark Passenger." Quinn's line, "And to think, I resisted," is from Hellbound: Hellraiser II. It is uttered by Dr. Philip Channard, just after he undergoes the painful transformation into a cenobite from hell.
(2) Songs quoted in this chapter include Time To Change by The Brady Bunch and Planet Earth by Duran Duran.
(3) Information about Quinn and Helena's Virgo and Leo characteristics came from a website called zodiac signs.
(4) We learn that Eric Northman is a Virgo in True Blood Season 3, Episode 9. Nan Flanagan comes to Fangtasia looking for the missing Magister. Nan notes that the dungeon is suspiciously clean, despite the fact that a glamoured Ginger discloses that the dungeon has never before been mopped. Eric replies that he's a Virgo and likes to keep things neat.