Chapter Twenty-Three:
A little later, they reconvened in the breakroom.
Charles had claimed his usual recliner, one ankle crossed over a knee, teacup steaming gently in his hand. Miss LaDonna sat to his right, serene as ever, fingers laced loosely in her lap.
Olivia, meanwhile, was sitting very decidedly in Doctor—“Lenny,” she had insisted, flushing. “You’ve forfeited titles.”—Myles’ lap.
Lenny did not object in the slightest.
In fact, she seemed perfectly content to have Olivia there, one arm loosely around her waist, the other working slow, practiced pressure into Olivia’s shoulders and upper back. Muscles Olivia hadn’t realized were knotted tight melted under her hands, tension easing in waves that made her sigh before she could stop herself.
“Oh,” Olivia murmured, eyes half-lidded. “I did not know I was carrying that.”
Lenny smiled against her hair. “You were. Bodies are very polite about hiding things until they can’t anymore.”
Miss LaDonna watched the exchange with quiet approval.
Charles cleared his throat lightly. “For the record, no one is in trouble. Least of all you, Olivia.”
“I know,” Olivia said quickly. She shifted slightly, more comfortable now than embarrassed. “Honestly? I’m not even mad. Confused, yes. A little… mortified about earlier, maybe. But not mad.”
She glanced up at Lenny. “You could’ve told me on the roof.”
“And you would’ve bolted,” Lenny replied calmly. “Or doubled down on the ‘it’s just my period’ theory and refused help out of principle. You needed proof and safety.”
Olivia winced. “…Okay, yeah. That tracks.”
Charles nodded. “What you experienced is what we’d call a race condition.”
Olivia blinked. “In… biology?”
“In everything,” Charles said mildly. “You had two major processes starting at the same time. Your menstrual cycle—perfectly mundane, perfectly normal—and your unfolding.”
Lenny’s hands paused just long enough to make the point land, then resumed, gentler now.
“Both involve hormones,” Lenny continued. “Both involve systemic changes. On their own, they’re manageable. Together, without intervention?” She exhaled. “They can interfere with each other. Conflicting signals. Interrupted development.”
Miss LaDonna spoke quietly. “Unfinished forms. Instability. Or worse.”
Olivia swallowed. “Worse… as in…?”
“As in not surviving it,” Charles said plainly. No drama. No softening. Just truth.
The room stayed quiet for a beat.
Lenny squeezed Olivia’s shoulder, grounding her. “That’s the bad version. The one we’ve already avoided.”
Olivia nodded slowly. “Because you got bloodwork.”
“Yes.”
“And because I stopped arguing.”
“Also yes,” Lenny said, smiling. “The kiss helped.”
Olivia snorted despite herself. “You’re evil.”
“Professionally,” Lenny agreed.
Charles allowed himself a small smile. “The good news is that you’re early. Very early. With monitoring, rest, proper nutrition, and—” he glanced pointedly at Lenny, “—medical supervision—both processes can proceed safely.”
“And my brain?” Olivia asked quietly. “Because I really didn’t feel like me earlier.”
Lenny tilted her head, considering. “You were you. Just… you without the usual filters. Instinct-forward. Drive-heavy. It’s common in the first phase.”
Miss LaDonna leaned forward slightly. “It will pass. You are not losing yourself.”
Olivia let out a long breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
“Okay,” she said. “Okay. That helps.”
She shifted again, leaning back into Lenny without thinking, then froze. “…Is this okay?”
Lenny chuckled softly. “Olivia, if it weren’t okay, you’d already know.”
Miss LaDonna smiled into her teacup.
Olivia shifted slightly in Lenny’s lap, fingers absently worrying the hem of her jacket as her mind caught up to the moment.
“…Okay,” she said finally. “I have questions. A lot of questions.”
Charles lifted his mug in quiet salute. “As expected.”
“First,” Olivia said, ticking it off with a finger, “how long does this last?”
Lenny answered without hesitation. “Usually a little over a week. Sometimes shorter. Sometimes longer.”
“That’s not comforting,” Olivia said flatly.
“It’s honest,” Lenny replied gently. “The exact timing depends on what you’re unfolding into. We won’t know that until the physical changes begin—and once they do, things move fast.”
“How fast is fast?” Olivia asked.
“Hours,” Charles said. “Not days.”
Olivia swallowed. “…And the pain part?”
Lenny’s hands stilled, just briefly. “The worst of it happens all at once.”
Miss LaDonna leaned in slightly. “And you will be asleep for it.”
Olivia blinked. “On purpose?”
“Yes,” Charles said. “We’ve learned that lesson. The body does what it must, and consciousness only complicates things.”
Lenny nodded. “It’s not cruelty. It’s mercy. We know this from helping others through it—many others.”
Olivia let that sit for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Okay. I can live with that.”
She hesitated. “Or… sleep through it.”
“That’s the spirit,” Charles murmured.
Olivia glanced up at Lenny. “Is there anything I need to do before then?”
“Rest. Eat. Drink water. Don’t fight your instincts, but don’t indulge them blindly either,” Lenny said. “We’ll keep you balanced.”
She paused, then added, “Oh—and we’ll need the shampoo.”
Lenny looked over at Miss LaDonna. “Do you still have the special one?”
Miss LaDonna smiled faintly.
“Always.”
She reached—not into a pocket, not into a bag, but simply somewhere—and produced a small green glass bottle, stoppered and sealed with dark wax. The liquid inside shimmered faintly when it caught the light.
“I keep a fresh batch ready whenever it’s needed,” she said calmly, as if discussing spare linens.
Olivia stared. “…That’s reassuring. I think.”
“It should be,” Charles said. “It works.”
Olivia nodded, then frowned. “Wait. Shampoo for what?”
Lenny smiled. “We’ll get there.”
Another pause.
Then Olivia tilted her head. “Okay. Next question. What kind of doctor are you, exactly?”
Lenny chuckled softly. “That one always comes eventually.”
She shifted slightly, still relaxed, still solid. “On paper? I’m a cryptozoologist. My specialty is hominid and near-hominid forms.”
Olivia blinked. “On paper.”
“Yes,” Lenny said pleasantly. “I also hold a medical degree from Johns Hopkins.”
“What year?” Olivia asked automatically.
Lenny smiled wider. “Don’t worry about it.”
Charles snorted into his tea.
“I’ve been treating Charles, the station staff, and… assorted others for a couple of hundred years now,” Lenny continued. “Longer, if you count house calls that didn’t leave records.”
Olivia let out a slow breath. “Of course you have.”
She glanced between the three of them. “So… I’m not the first.”
“No,” Miss LaDonna said softly. “But you are very much you.”
That seemed to matter.
Olivia relaxed back into Lenny again, questions finally slowing as the answers stacked into something she could hold.
“…Okay,” she said. “I think that’s enough for now.”
Charles smiled. “Good. Because the next step is letting us take care of you.”
Lenny’s hands resumed their slow, grounding work at Olivia’s shoulders. “And asking when you need help.”
Olivia closed her eyes for a moment.
“Yeah,” she said quietly. “I think I can do that.”
And for the first time since the Unfolding had begun—not as a concept, but as a reality—she felt prepared to face what was coming next.
Lenny’s hands had drifted at some point from Olivia’s shoulders into her hair, fingers combing slowly, idly, with practiced ease. It felt absurdly good—good enough that Olivia made a small, contented sound she didn’t even bother trying to suppress.
After a minute or two, Lenny’s touch shifted. More deliberate now. Fingertips pressed, traced, lightly scratched in specific places along Olivia’s scalp.
“Huh,” Lenny murmured. Then, brighter: “Found them.”
Charles leaned forward instantly.
“Two nodules,” Lenny continued, still stroking Olivia’s hair as if this were the most casual thing in the world. “Halfway back. About fifteen degrees apart from the top of the cranium.”
Miss LaDonna smiled, unsurprised.
Olivia, blissfully relaxed right up until that sentence finished processing, stiffened.
“Wh—what?”
Lenny grinned, leaning in closer. “Congratulations, sexy. Your ears will be upright and decently sized.”
Olivia squirmed, half-laughing, half-panicking. “What does that mean?”
Charles answered gently, clearly delighted. “What she means is that when the physical transformation takes hold, you’re definitely going to be mammalian. Most likely canine or feline.”
Miss LaDonna added thoughtfully, “Possibly rabbit or bear, but those are quite rare. Or—” she glanced toward the roof above them, amused, “—raccoon, though that would be… unusual.”
Olivia sat up straighter so fast she nearly slid out of Lenny’s lap.
“Wait. What? I know you said my body would change, but are you saying I’m probably going to turn into a dog? Or a cat? Or a raccoon? What the fuck?”
They all laughed—but not at her. Never at her. The laughter was warm, relieved, full of joy.
Charles smiled. “You missed an important word, my dear.”
Olivia blinked. “…Which word?”
“Hybrid.” He tilted his head. “Have you ever heard the term Otherkin?”
She frowned, thinking. “You mean those people online who say they were born in the wrong bodies and claim they’re unicorns or dragons or lizards?”
Miss LaDonna nodded. “That is the mundane explanation, yes. A story told to keep people safe. Much like fairy tales.”
Her voice softened. “Otherkin are real. Just as real as we are. And you will be too—if you choose it.”
Lenny shifted, reaching into her jacket and pulling out a small folded leather case. She opened it and handed it to Olivia.
Inside were photographs.
At first glance, Olivia thought they were furries—beautifully done costumes. Then she looked closer.
No seams.No fasteners.No artifice.
The fur was alive. So were the feathers. The scales. Every form flawless, expressive, unmistakably real.
Her breath caught.
“These are my patients,” Lenny said quietly. “Every one an Otherkin. And if you fully unfold, I will be damn proud to have your photo in here too.”
Tears welled in Olivia’s eyes as she stared at the images.
“They’re all so… beautiful,” she whispered. “Like… like everything I’ve dreamed of since I was little.”
She looked up, voice trembling. “But you said if. You said it’s going well. Why would that change?”
Miss LaDonna reached across the table and took Olivia’s hand, squeezing it gently.
“Because, love,” she said softly, “you have a choice to make. The Signal doesn’t force an unfolding. It only leads you somewhere safe where one can happen. If you decide you don’t want this—if you want to stay as you are—we can stop it now, while it’s still early.”
Olivia swallowed. “And the price?”
Charles reached out, covering both their joined hands with his own.
“This station is a sanctuary,” he said quietly. “One of very few. If you choose not to unfold, you would need to leave. You would return to a mundane life—safe, ordinary—and you would forget us. All of this.”
“It isn’t punishment,” Miss LaDonna added gently. “It’s protection.”
Olivia didn’t hesitate.
Not for a second.
“I’m staying,” she said, voice breaking. “I’ve wanted this since I was a little girl. I always wanted to be a big, strong, loyal dog—to protect the people I love. I want this more than anything.”
She looked around the table, tears streaming freely now.
“I’m staying. And I’m unfolding. With my family.”
The moment the words left her mouth, they were all on their feet—Charles, Miss LaDonna, Lenny—arms wrapping around her, holding her tight. There were tears everywhere now, unhidden, unashamed.
After a few lingering moments of shared hugs and tearful laughter, Olivia became aware of Lenny’s hand moving—slow, grounding—down the small of her back. Curious fingers mapping something with purpose. There was a brief, playful squeeze that made Olivia yelp and blush anyway.
“Hey—!”
Before she could finish the thought, they parted, and Lenny smoothly spun her around.
“Hold still,” Lenny said brightly.
She tugged the back of Olivia’s blouse upward just enough to expose her lower back, nudging the waistband of her slacks down a fraction. Olivia squeaked in surprise, half mortified, half laughing.
“Lenny!”
“There,” Lenny said, pleased. “That’s the other indicator. Look closely.”
Charles and Miss LaDonna leaned in, their expressions intent. Olivia felt gentle fingers tracing the exact place that had been aching for days—low, centered, persistent.
She tried to turn her head to see, but Lenny steadied her lightly.
“Just a second,” she murmured. “I’ll show you.”
There was a soft click and a brief flash of light.
Lenny stepped back and let Olivia fix her clothes. Olivia huffed, half laughing, half flustered.
“You know,” she said dryly, “if you wanted me undressed, you could’ve just asked.”
Lenny laughed and handed her a phone.
“Wouldn’t have been nearly as educational.”
On the screen was a photo of Olivia’s lower back.
Right at the top of the cleft of her hips, beneath the skin, was a distinct raised shape—an oval swelling, slightly reddened, unmistakably not muscle or bone. It looked almost like a callus forming from the inside out.
Olivia stared.
“…What is that?”
Lenny grinned like she’d just unwrapped a gift.“That,” she said proudly, “is your tail. Still under the skin, waiting for the big reveal.”
Olivia’s breath caught. “My… tail?”
“Decent-sized,” Lenny added, glancing at Charles and Miss LaDonna for confirmation.
Charles nodded, eyes bright. “Strong anchor point. Good symmetry.”
Miss LaDonna smiled warmly. “It suits you already.”
Olivia looked back at the photo, heart racing—not with fear, but awe.
“That’s… really happening,” she whispered.
Lenny slipped an arm comfortably around her shoulders.“Oh, sweetheart,” she said, fond and certain. “It’s been happening for a while now.”
And this time, Olivia didn’t laugh or panic.
She just smiled.
“So… now what?” Olivia asked, once they’d all settled back around the table.
Before Charles could answer, a sharp, high-pitched chirp sounded from Lenny’s pocket.
Lenny paused mid-motion, fished out a pager, glanced at it, and slipped it away again with a small, resigned smile.
“Well,” she said briskly, clapping her hands once, “now you follow doctor’s orders.”
Olivia straightened automatically.
“Same daily routine for now,” Lenny continued, ticking points off on her fingers. “Work if you feel up to it. Rest when you don’t. But if you experience anything unusual, you tell Charles, Miss LaDonna, or Bernard immediately.”
She fixed Olivia with a look that brooked no argument.
“And yes, that includes weird dreams. Especially weird dreams. Those are important.”
Olivia nodded. “Okay.”
“Food,” Lenny went on. “Eat as much as you want. Protein, fats, sugars. Your body is doing construction work—you don’t starve a construction site. If you’re even slightly hungry, eat like you haven’t seen food in days. No dieting. No guilt.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “You won’t gain weight for long anyway.”
Charles hummed in agreement.
“And rest,” Lenny added. “If you get sleepy, sleep. Bed. Chair. That sunbeam on the lobby couch if you must.” She smirked. “I know that couch very well. Looks like a broken-down relic, but it’s the best nap spot in the building.”
Miss LaDonna smiled faintly. “It is.”
Lenny gestured toward Charles and Miss LaDonna. “Trust these two. They’ve shepherded more unfoldings than I can count. If they tell you you’re off duty, then you’re off duty. No arguing. No pushing through.”
Olivia swallowed, then nodded again. “Got it.”
“Good.” Lenny softened, just a touch. “Until then? Enjoy the ride. Charles will call me if I’m needed sooner. Otherwise, I’ll check in on you in a couple of weeks.”
She slung her pack over one shoulder. “For now, I’ve got to head out. Selkie over in Point Pleasant with a nasty cold. Saltwater lungs and sinus infections do not play nicely together.”
Olivia blinked. “Of course they don’t.”
Lenny turned toward the door, then paused and looked back over her shoulder, eyes warm and bright.
“Walk me out to my bike?” she asked.
Olivia didn’t even pretend to hesitate.
Olivia walked Lenny out through the lobby and into the parking lot, Lenny pausing just long enough at the front desk to scoop up her helmet with a practiced motion. Outside, evening light slanted across the lot, warm and gold.
Lenny’s bike waited near the curb—a slick, aggressive red Ducati Panigale V4, all sharp lines and coiled power, like it was barely tolerating being at rest. Olivia stopped short, impressed despite herself.
“Figures,” she murmured.
Lenny grinned and swung a leg over it with effortless grace, settling into the seat like she’d been born there. She leaned forward slightly, resting her forearms on the tank, close enough that Olivia could smell leather, ozone, and something unmistakably Lenny.
“Remember what I said,” she told her gently. “Eat when you’re hungry. Rest when you’re tired. Tell them everything weird, even if it feels silly.” A pause, then a smile. “Especially the dreams.”
Olivia nodded, trying very hard to keep her composure and not entirely succeeding.
“And if I’m needed,” Lenny continued, “I’ll be here before you know it. Trust the Signal. It always knows.” Her eyes softened. “Charles and Miss LaDonna trust you. And I can’t wait to see what you unfold into.”
Before Olivia could respond, Lenny leaned in and kissed her—confident, warm, unmistakably real. Not rushed. Not tentative. Just enough to leave Olivia breathless and smiling like an idiot.
Then Lenny pulled back, slipped on her helmet, winked once more, snapped the visor shut, and brought the bike to life. The engine growled, deep and powerful. In one smooth motion she turned toward the road—
—and then she was gone, red and white flashing once before disappearing down the street.
Olivia stood there for a long moment, one hand lifted unconsciously to her lips.
She turned and walked back into the station, heart still racing, thoughts tumbling over themselves.
Was that part of the unfolding?Was she bi now? Or… something else?
Whatever it was, she decided, smiling to herself as the lobby doors slid shut behind her—
It felt right.
She walked back inside just as the clock ticked over to 5:00 p.m., the lobby doors sliding shut behind her with a soft, final thunk. The sound echoed a little louder than usual.
Her mind was racing—but not about ears or tails or bones remembering how to be something else. Not even about the Unfolding, really. That thought surfaced, drifted, and sank again.
What stayed—what wouldn’t let go—was Lenny.
The way she’d looked at her.The certainty in her touch.The kiss that had felt… uncomplicated. Right.
Olivia pressed her lips together, trying to make sense of it.
Okay. Who do I talk to about this?
Bernard? No. Absolutely not. He was an extradimensional being who ate videotapes. Romance would become a lecture on semiotic resonance and probability collapse.
Charles? She winced. How much of his old-world courtliness was genuine worldview, and how much was layered performance? And even if he would understand, asking him felt uncomfortably close to asking your dad for dating advice.
Miss LaDonna—
Olivia actually groaned out loud.
“That would be like asking my grandmother to help me pick out a strap-on,” she muttered. “Nope. Hard no.”
The emotions that had been politely waiting in line chose that exact moment to rush her all at once.
Confusion.Excitement.Fear.Want.Grief for a self she hadn’t even finished being yet.
Her knees buckled.
She didn’t even try to catch herself—just sank down onto the lobby floor, right there between the reception desk and the old couches, and started crying. Ugly crying. The kind that came from somewhere deep and unfiltered, like a lost kid in a department store who’d suddenly realized how big the world was.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she sobbed to no one in particular. “I don’t know what any of this means.”
The station hummed around her, steady and patient, saying nothing.
Then her phone rang.
The sound cut clean through the noise in her head.
Olivia froze, breath hitching, eyes stinging as she fumbled for it. The screen lit up in her trembling hand.
She stared at the caller ID, heart pounding, tears still sliding down her cheeks.
“…What?” she whispered.
And then she answered.
Olivia stared at the phone for half a heartbeat before answering.
“Mum? That you?” she asked, still half-expecting the voice on the other end to turn out to be a scammer or a recording.
“Livvy, love, of course it’s me,” her mum replied, sounding mildly offended. “Why do you sound like you’ve been gargling gravel? Are you crying?”
Olivia pressed the heel of her hand into her eye and sniffed. “No. Yes. I don’t know. You never call.”
“Well, forgive me for checking on my only daughter,” her mum said dryly. “I got that email about a ‘local access number’ and thought I’d try it. Bloody hell, calling a number in Sydney and reaching you all the way out there in Hollywood like it’s just down the road. Technology’s getting suspicious.”
Olivia blinked. Email?Oh. Right. Dramir. The upgrade to her phone.
“No, it’s… it’s fine,” she said quickly. “It’s part of my job. Doesn’t cost me anything extra.”
Her mum hummed. “If you say so. Still—why do you sound like someone kicked your puppy?”
Olivia hesitated, then slid down onto the old couch, curling slightly inward as if the lobby itself might overhear her. “I’m just… having a bit of an emotional pile-up, I guess.”
“That’s my girl,” her mum said warmly. “Always efficient. Never does anything by halves. What happened?”
Olivia took a breath. Then another.“Well… I met someone today.”
“Oh?” Her mum perked up instantly. “And?”
“And it made me feel things,” Olivia blurted. “Strong things. Confusing things.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And—” she rushed on before she could lose her nerve, “—I think I might be gay. Or bi. Or something. And I don’t know what to do with that.”
There was a pause on the line.
Not a sharp one. Not a shocked one. Just the soft, familiar sound of her mum shifting, probably kicking her shoes off or tucking a leg under herself.
“…Is that all?” her mum said at last.
Olivia froze. “All?”
“Yes, all,” her mum replied. “Livvy, sweetheart, I thought you were about to tell me you’d joined a cult, married a magician, or were being hunted by the tax office.”
A laugh burst out of Olivia before she could stop it—half hysterical, half relieved. “You’re not… mad?”
“Why would I be mad?” her mum asked gently. “I’m forty-seven, not eighty-seven. You think I lived through the nineties without a few… educational experiences?”
“Mum!”
“Oh hush,” she said, amused. “You don’t know half of my life. Some of it I’ll never tell you, because that’s just good parenting.”
Olivia wiped her face, still smiling weakly. “I just… I don’t know what this makes me.”
“It makes you human,” her mum said without hesitation. “And possibly smitten.”
That landed a little too close to home. Olivia swallowed. “Yeah. Very.”
“Well then,” her mum said, voice warm and steady, “here’s some advice from a woman who has kissed men, women, one truly regrettable poet, and survived all of it: you don’t need a label today. Or tomorrow. You just need to notice how you feel and not beat yourself up for it.”
Olivia’s shoulders finally relaxed. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It’s not,” her mum admitted cheerfully. “But it is simpler than you think. Do you like this person?”
“Yes.”
“Do they make you feel safe?”
“…Yes.”
“Good,” her mum said. “That’s the important part. Everything else is just details.”
Olivia let out a shaky breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “I was so afraid you’d freak out.”
“Darling,” her mum said softly, “I raised you to be kind, curious, and stubborn. Who you fancy was never going to undo that.”
There was a brief pause, then her mum added, teasing,“Though I do expect full gossip rights once you figure it out.”
Olivia laughed properly now, the sound echoing faintly in the lobby. “Deal.”
“Now,” her mum continued, slipping seamlessly into practical mode, “are you somewhere safe? Have you eaten? You always forget to eat when your head’s spinning.”
“Yes,” Olivia said, glancing at the remnants of her very recent lunch. “Very much yes.”
“Good girl,” her mum said. “Call me again soon, all right? And Livvy?”
“Yeah?”
“You never have to be brave with me. You know that.”
The call ended a moment later.
Olivia lowered the phone and sat there for a while, listening to the quiet hum of the station around her.
The world was still strange.Her future still uncertain.
But her chest didn’t feel like it was caving in anymore.
And that, she decided, was a very good start.