JC hated shooing Des out of the house. Unfortunately, she did need a little time to sleep so she could function through the day, though it was surprisingly easy to slip off for an hour here and there for a quick sitting-up nap. Des could catnap at any time, of course, but it would be just too dangerous for her to be in the house without JC keeping watch and ready to run interference if necessary. It was a shame though. Having a friend there was comforting, no matter what they were doing.

And it distracted her from her own thoughts and moods and the struggle to come to terms with her new reality.

Most of the time, she could accept her new self with a certain degree of sardonic amusement, liberally spiced with rational appreciation of the advantages immediate and potential both, and with bemusement over how it could possibly feel natural and comfortable.

At other moments, especially when it was quiet and she had nothing to do and no company, she found herself sinking into morose speculation about what deep-down warped part of herself had decided she should spend her life looking like she belonged in the display window of a sex shop.

Theo had said more than once that she needed to sit JC down for a long talk.

During a discussion the previous day, Theo had explained briefly via ever-patient Alison. Some people, she said, were wired in ways that included a fundamental need to give power to someone else under the right conditions and within negotiated boundaries, particularly someone with the mirror need. As long as all parties involved respected boundaries and kept physical and emotional safety in mind, it bore no resemblance to mass-media portrayals or cultural stereotypes and even less to abuse. She compared it to the way some people were wired towards attraction to their own gender, and insisted that there were similarly destructive results if not acknowledged, with unhealthy and unsatisfying relationships only the most obvious.

Des had added a different perspective. It was, apparently, a sadly common thing for crossdressers periodically to go through bouts of self-loathing, especially after a negative event that could be attributed to either the need to keep secrets or the failure to do so. Losing another girlfriend after daring to open up, for example. That generally led to a ruthless purge of all feminine clothing, accessories, and makeup, and a resolution to simply stop and be 'normal' from now on. It never worked for Des, which apparently was typical. Sometimes life got stressful, and an immediate and reliable means of enjoyable distraction and relaxation was just too hard to pass up. Sometimes the temptation was just too strong, when out of town for a tech conference, to switch to an alter ego who was more outgoing. Sometimes, it was more like rebellion: why should society's archaic and repressive values deprive him of a kind of fun creative expression that harmed no one? Which led inevitably to shopping trips, and regrets about favourite items that were lost in the last purge or the one before, until it started all over again.

None of them had known about that, though Theo seemed unsurprised. The thought of Des caught in that kind of mire, friends oblivious to the pain, made JC sad.

*No one needs a lecture,* Theo said. *We all know a lot of our current cultural values are brutal and cause a massive amount of unnecessary pain. Too long, didn't read version: only way to be happy is figure out who you are and be that, but that is a whole fuck of a lot easier said than done. Information helps, and I promise, Jace, you've got that, just as soon as we hit an appropriate time for it. Shame you missed the couple of shows I did on it.*

*Might not have,* Erica said. *Your subconscious can be really good at keeping you away from things that might disturb a comforting state of denial, or just refuse to really hear it. For the record? I quite like sex, but I have zero interest in all the extra stuff that comes with relationships. That's supposed to be typical for guys, but it is definitely not how girls are expected to feel. I'm supposed to want one guy who loves me for who I am and yadda yadda. I don't. I really prefer living alone with my plants. If I were a hot sexy twenty-five-year-old blonde, I'd probably have been called a slut, but in that sort of mostly-jealous way. Or possibly I might have decided on a whole different career for a while. As it is? Not exactly the looks that turn guys on. Consistently frustrating. Serious mismatch between social expectation and reality.*

*If you can switch back to midway form,* Theo said, *no problem with picking up guys, that's for sure. Not all guys want skinny blondes.*

*I just have to decide how I feel about that. Maybe I'll decide it's fine being wanted purely for my looks by people who wouldn't have looked twice before, if all I want is sex anyway. But I need to think. Basically, Jace, stop thumping on yourself. We've all had lots of buried stuff dragged out into the open. Everyone has buried stuff of some sort, that's just life. So maybe there's a core part of you that's never managed to get past all the social shame and crap to get your attention. So what? It isn't a hidden desire to be a serial rapist and murderer, or found a new religion that will scam people while destroying them at the same time, or go around being a psycho vigilante and thumping on people who are different or something.*

*You're you and we love you, no matter what,* Suzi said.

JC remained sceptical, but the unanimous support from her friends was reassuring. And scepticism didn't stop little fantasies from creeping in.

If it were up to her what household she took care of, and they were properly appreciative and understanding, then it might not be a bad thing at all. Despite an instinct to stay unnoticed, nothing troubled her in the thought that her chosen household might get some pleasure from the eye candy. And possibly, that might lead to some developments that were intriguing... and alarming because they were so intriguing. Although those fantasies could be intensely erotic, the details that created that feeling the most powerfully often had little to do with sex, or included sex but she suspected that that wasn't the key factor.

Clearly, she had a lot to figure out once they were free and had the luxury to do so. How, she had no idea. She could hardly go to a psychotherapist even if she had the money.

But then, Theo was probably as good as any therapist, on many subjects.

JC finished her quick check that all was where it should be on the ground floor, and settled herself in one of the sitting-room chairs for a nap.

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Felix roused her, as usual. “Lazy fairy bitch. Wake up! Get your ass in the kitchen.”

Heaven forbid that I should actually sleep.

She got up, which she was certain must look odd from outside given the way she moved. No need to stretch or try to wake muscles that had been motionless for some time—she was, as near as she could tell, immune to stiffness, at least from staying still. She did drop by the half-bath, pretending not to hear his suggestion that she leave the door open.

It was just as well she wasn't hungry yet, since she'd be busy for a while.

The cook ignored her entirely when she joined him in the kitchen. The way that humans tended to do that unless she somehow came directly to their attention—because they needed something done, because someone mentioned her, because she was standing right in front of them—fascinated her. She certainly wasn't invisible. Somehow, she simply dropped out of the forefront of their minds and became as much a part of the kitchen background as the fridge or the sink.

Felix never genuinely forgot that he had a house fae, though. With no need to do any cleaning himself, he soiled dishes carelessly and often with little or no need, let food fall on the floor or slop onto the counter, left items everywhere, simply taking it for granted that it would all be dealt with and that there would be no interference. Not that it mattered, and she took care not to give him any reason to question. It was something to do, and right now, that gave her the cover she needed.

The henchmen, as usual, began to appear in the dining room first, while she was setting out maple syrup and ketchup, sugar and cream, a pitcher of orange juice, glasses and silverware.

“Hurry up with the actual food, eh?” Gord said. Inevitably, he snaked a hand up under her skirt to grope her bottom. “And some coffee, for god's sake.”

JC sighed to herself, but showed no reaction. It wasn't hard. No matter how revolting she found them, they were on the outside of her skin, while she was inside it. It was annoying, but no worse than that. It simply merged into the general background of resentment and outrage at what had been done to them; there were just too many items on the list for this kind of petty harassment to be significant. She finished arranging items and walked back to the kitchen, not bothering to hurry.

She brought a tray of mugs to the dining room and placed one at each setting. Barry demanded to know why she'd brought them all empty, but obviously didn't expect a reply.

She delivered two plates of French toast and breakfast sausages and homefries on the next trip, and avoided dropping either despite the rather forceful grab at one breast when she leaned forward to set Barry's on the table. Her body wanted to do manoeuvres like that in very specific ways, with virtually her entire frame rigid, bending only at the hips. Unfortunately, that did often invite further groping.

Only on the next trip did she fill their coffee cups.

She could actually get away with a certain amount of passive-aggressive retaliation, without ever making anyone suspicious, she'd discovered. As far as she could tell while they were griping and complaining, they considered it perverse fae logic and priorities, not a very small act of revenge. It really changed nothing, but she kept doing it anyway. Zach had pointed out that being too good was actually more likely to be suspicious, that being excessively obliging could suggest trying too hard to avoid scrutiny, so there was that.

Done in the dining room for the moment, she had to gather dirty dishes from all over the kitchen and deposit them in the sink, start it filling, and spend the interim wiping down the multitude of spills on the counter and sweeping up the larger items Felix had dropped carelessly on the floor. Mopping up the rest would have to wait until he wasn't standing right here, even though having this much of a mess made her rather uncomfortable.

And by that time, she was being summoned back to the dining room to serve Lloyd and Isabel.

She'd had kitchen jobs that were no more hectic than this, and required no greater ability to multitask, and she'd done them successfully without fae physical and mental advantages. And, as usual, it did mean that she could eavesdrop. Even when she was serving them, they spoke freely.

Worryingly, they knew about another nexus that was due to flare soon, but from this side, that was many weeks away. There was considerable debate as to whether adding more fae to the island was at all a good idea, although a proposed solution was to cull the current inhabitants of any that had a low probability of being useful. Conversation suggested that JC and her friends were probably safe, even Zach, but the house fae collective could be a target. There was no disagreement that if they did so, they might as well overestimate and reduce the density substantially.

That gave everything a new level of urgency.

They'd agreed that they would devise the best plan they could for backing up Kayla and/or Niko. They had no way of knowing how long that might take, though, and in the meantime, could they allow Isabel and company to keep ruining lives? So, they were working on a second plan, a plan no one wanted to use and there were doubts whether they'd have the courage to do so, since it was unlikely to have a happy resolution for them... but they were going to have one, at least. JC hoped fervently that this new nexus and the proposed culling didn't force them into having to decide. How could they possibly stand quietly by and allow something like two dozen already-victimized faelings to be coldly murdered? To say nothing of that allowing for more to be kidnapped? But that could wait until after dark, when her friends would all be awake and active and they could share the sheer nauseating horror of it before working further on both plans.

Plan A, if Kayla or Niko got here in time. Plan X, if they ran out of options.

There were still the wizards to serve, and there were meals for various fae who were known to not have the resources to feed themselves, which had to be prepared and packed up. Gord waited impatiently by the kitchen door with Alison hitched to the larger cart—Alison stood quietly still, pretending to notice little and care less, while JC made multiple trips to stack into the cart sealed plastic containers and a bag of mixed produce for the wisps.

After which, Felix took a break, until it was time to start preparing lunch and supper. JC took the opportunity to find food for herself, not at all worried about trouble if they caught her. She made sure that the bulk of it was readily-available produce from here on the island, which meant that while there could be grumbling when she helped herself to a few cookies or the makings of a decent sandwich, it was only the same half-hearted grousing that Felix did non-stop anyway, ignored by his employers and co-workers.

Having eaten, she did a proper and thorough clean-up of the kitchen—washing the dishes, scrubbing the counters and stove-top, tossing in two loads of laundry, one of which included kitchen dish towels and dish rags. While mopping the floor, she retreated in the direction of a corner that housed a pair of hard wooden chairs with arms and medium backs, and finally left the mop in the bucket and sat down. Later, Felix would complain about her taking laundry outside to hang while she should be 'assisting' him, but Isabel would just tell him again that their house fae had multiple jobs to do that were not restricted to the kitchen and he needed to share her services.

Had she not had fae stamina, she could never have kept up, even without her nocturnal activities.

Right now, she'd hear anyone coming in the kitchen, so while the floor dried, she could steal a short nap.