When SuzyQ opened the “Only a Baby Machine” universe (click here), it gave me a chance to create an epilogue to a story that was a long rough ride, with way too much pain and not enough justice along the way. I happily present ...

In the heart of a small city somewhere south of the border, a conversation between a newly widowed mother and a mysterious Norte Americano proves that a capricious and chaotic universe can sometimes twist itself to provide an unlikely savior — and for someone caught in the gears of someone else’s machine, sometimes serendipity is enough.

As she sat on the bench, waiting for her ride back to the ranch, there was one thing she could always count on in the endless grind her life had become.

Her feet hurt.

‘No surprise there,’ Pansy thought bitterly. After all, between her job as one of Señora Arias’s maids and caring for her own house and children as well as Susana’s, her feet carried her from well before dawn to late in the night, every single day. And since the accident took her husband from her, she had lost the pleasure and the love she used to find in his arms, and in the bed they both shared. Now life was nothing but duty and obligation, and responsibility.

Of course, she remembered a time when life was more. When she had options. When she was him. But she knows it was running from responsibility that put her here, in this place, in this body, in this life. It had been wrong for him to run. George had learned that long ago. But it had also been wrong, monstrously wrong, for those intelligent, evil men to do what they did to him.

To turn him into ... her. To trap him in this impossible prison called Pansy. To take all she knew away, all she was, and replace it with nothing but lust and servitude and childbirth. And without her husband in her life, all the lust did was hurt. It burned inside her, a frustrating hunger that made every hour she could call her own an opportunity to feel empty and alone. Hour after hour, day after day, week after week. After trying to keep her hunger at bay, it was almost a relief to be at the mercy of someone else’s desire. At least it kept her mind off of what she couldn’t have, or do... or be.

She sighed. She remembered being able to escape from life, back when she was still a he. Not that his life was so awful back then, but he would escape into the pages of a book, a mystery or a thriller, just for a small vacation from what was. Since they stole her ability to read and write to keep her trapped in this life, escape is not an option. Even after months of weekly classes and home studying, she could barely untangle something written for a first grader. It had something to do with her head mixing up letter shapes. It just made everything so much harder.

Memories from his past had started coming back the day Susana and Celia spoke his name in front of her for the first time. George Deon. The doctors had erased it from his head, and then refused to reveal it to her no matter how many times she asked. In all the time they had tortured her and cut her down to size, the name of the man she used to be remained a mystery. But when the name given back to her, set free by the two women, she started to remember.

At first, Pansy did her best to ignore the bits of his life that seemed to rise from somewhere inside her. But as pieces of who he was became more and more clear with each passing day, she began to realize just how much they had stolen from George to trap him as Pansy with no possibility of escape.

Other things rose from inside her as well. Memories of things Pansy knew had never happened to her, but had happened to George in the two years before Susana tried to erase his memory of the torture and the ... the things they did to make her become a girl against her will. Oh, yes, Susana was a witch. But since those memories came back, she knew that sorcery had nothing to do with her transformation. Becoming Pansy took years, not seconds, and it was science, not magic, that caused it.

The worst part was a truth she could barely accept, but she knew it was true just the same.

Her new memories revealed to her that the real Pansy had died long ago, and the Pansy she was now had been just another piece of the trap they had created to make George just another campesina. Every time she thought about it, she had to fight back tears.

Because she wasn’t even real. She was just someone else’s life wrapped around poor George to keep him tied in her skin.

Even though it ripped her apart, she kept what she knew to herself and moved forward. She had a husband and a family, and that was something to keep her and George alive, and even happy sometimes. She would survive. But when Hector died, living had become both a chore and a curse. Without him to love her, and with more of George’s memories rising every day, it was easy to see that she had been well and truly trapped by all of them, including Señor Arias.

She hid her newfound knowledge well, which was easy to do when you are nothing in the eyes of others. Once Susana was sure she was going to be Pansy forever, the young campesina faded into the Señora’s background to become just another servant in her home. Pansy liked it that way. It was easier to hide her hate for the cruel bitch who had rejoiced in her pain and humiliation.

No matter how awful George Deon had been, Susana and her father and all of them were a thousand times worse.

Not that she could do anything about it. She truly was trapped in the prison they made.

Even though her new life was hard, Pansy was still young and pretty, but all that bought her was endless propositions from men — propositions she could never accept. As much as she had enjoyed sex, she could never act to reduce her burning need. For the sake of the children, Pansy could not risk being labeled a slut, or worse, becoming pregnant. If that happened, she could lose her position, and all of her niños would starve.

As often as the Señora forgot who Pansy used to be, she remembered Susana’s joy in her suffering, and knew she would enjoy watching her suffer again if given the chance. The best Pansy could hope for would be for her to take pity on the maid’s children. After all, why would anyone with the money or power to stop it let her innocent babies starve for their mother’s disgrace?

She didn’t know for sure how Susana would react, but the Señora was Don Pablo’s daughter. Since his treatment of George meant he had no real humanity, compassion or conscience, Pansy could not be sure how much of his heartlessness would carry forward in his daughter’s ... in her ... from father to daughter. She bit her lip. So much lost, even the simplest of science gone.

Some letters rose up ... DNA, with some odd, twisting shapes ... but what they meant? She didn’t have a clue. She did feel smarter these days, as if she could make more sense of things. Her classes seemed a little easier, but that could just be wishful thinking.

Even though they had taken so much knowledge from her, there was one thing Pansy knew for sure. She would never remarry. She came to love her husband in the short time she had with him, and he had given her some true happiness in her new life. But he had also given her freedom she knew other men in his place would not.

In this country, she had no say, only what her husband would allow. And the freedom Hector had allowed was the barest she needed to survive with some part of her soul still there. She could not afford to lose the freedom his death gave her just to satisfy the lust those monsters left her with. Another man would push her down harder, take away her lessons, and lock her away with only him, house, children and work.

Even though she loved Hector, she also knew now that he was another unknowing part of the campesina trap Don Pablo and his monsters had created for the man she once was. And the thought of stepping back into that trap with another man? She smiled and shook her head. They may have taken her reading and writing from her, and even her native language, but at least they left her smart enough to see where she stood.

So this was all she had left — the endless grind. As she waited for her ride back to the ranch after this week’s class, all Pansy could see, stretching out for years, was working all day and night until she wore out, or until the children were grown and gone.

Oh, she loved them, it was true. Even the part of her that was George had come to love the children. He suffered through each pregnancy and birth with her, and actually found some joy in caring for the little ones. At first, he didn’t want to admit it, but eventually he realized that it wasn’t their fault he was trapped like this. They were a part of the trap, just like Hector, but there was no malice. Only need. And love. So they both needed to see both children safely on their own before she could try to take some control over her life again.

Or if she could not have control, she could leave this life on her own terms, knowing the only person she would be inconveniencing would be the woman she worked for — one of those who had put her here and enjoyed every minute of her pain.

‘But there might be grandchildren by then,’ she thought, and tears came to her eyes. To kill herself would be a sin, true, but after what happened to him, the part of her that was George doubted that there really was a God — and after Hector’s death, Pansy found herself wondering, too. No, for her, the real sin would be hurting those little ones and their parents by taking herself from them in such a horrible way. She knew they would blame themselves somehow.

‘Well, then, I will just have to find a way to keep going.’ She sighed. ‘That seems to be the one thing I am good at, after all. Surviving. Fighting to keep myself whole. For a while, being a wife and mother was almost enough. Without Hector to hold me ...’

“Hola, Señora.” A male voice intruded on her thoughts, and she looked up to find a norteamericano ... a tourista. He was a big, burly, blonde man with twinkling eyes and a ready smile, in a blue tropical shirt and khaki pants. He looked like an actor she used to know ... Brian Dennehy? Yes. Friendly, almost like a big cartoon bear. But a little dangerous, too, if she remembered some of the roles he played.

And this one has that look about him, too. Not obvious, but there, just the same. He hid behind the big friendly American tourist like a giant mask. It fit well, until you saw his eyes. She shivered despite the heat.

“Hola, Señor,” she replied quietly, looking down. She flinched inside at what she must look like, seeing herself as a frightened mouse, and worse, an idiot — as if not seeing him would protect her from whatever he wanted.

‘What next,’ she thought furiously, her face red with embarrassment, ‘close my eyes, stick my fingers in my ears and hum until he goes away?’

It might embarrass her, but she knew she was too small and weak to be more than a mouse in the face of this giant. She had been raped more than once, and knew how easily she could be taken by anyone who wanted her. In this country, many men see women as nothing more than easy prey. Why should this man be any different?

So even though a part of her still wanted to be pretty when she went to town, Pansy always reminded herself to do her best to be invisible when she was out alone. She wore drab colors and no makeup, and wished with the frightened part of her soul that every male eye would pass her by.

‘Not that it helps me now,’ she thought, slightly angry as she feels the big man settle down on the bench next to her. ‘Just another part of the trap.’

“I am sorry for your loss,” he said in flawless Spanish. Pansy looks up in spite of herself, clearly surprised. She wondered how this stranger knew about Hector, but remembered her manners just the same.

“My husband’s death was months ago.” She replied in kind, in the only language she knew. “But I thank you for the thought.”

He smiled. “I am not referring to your husband, Señora. I am referring to everything else that was taken from you, by Don Pablo and his people.” She gasps and moves back on the bench, frightened without quite knowing why. He holds up a hand.

“Hey, relax! I’m not here to hurt you.” She relaxed a little, but still seemed ready to run. He sighed. “Look, I know all about your past, and what they did to you. You might have been an asshole before all this happened, but that’s never been a capital crime. They killed you off a chunk at a time, and made the pain last. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve been hurt enough already.”

The man looked around, then turned sideways to face her on the bench. “Actually, I’m here to tell you something. Something I think you’ll want to hear. Something I think you’ve been hoping to hear for a long, long time.”

She looked up into his eyes and waited. He sighed and spoke again. “I know about you because I read their files on you. Right after I killed them.”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. He waited a few seconds, then continued, his tone as casual as if he was commenting on the weather.

“Everyone responsible for what happened to you is dead. All of their research was destroyed, including any back-ups, and their bodies went where bodies go when no one wants them found. They probably died quicker than you would have liked. For that, I apologize. After I read what I read, I wished I could go back and make them suffer a while longer myself before the end came. But the long and short of it is, the ones who did this to you are gone, and no one will ever have to go through what you went through again.”

The world spun around her, just for an instant, and she put her hand on her chest, trying to steady her breathing. He watched her, his blue eyes squinted against the last rays of daylight as they cut across the plaza before the sun disappeared behind the town hall.

“That ... this is very hard for me to believe, Señor,” she finally said. “Even harder to believe because I have wanted it so much for so long. I think about all the times I wished they all were dead, and to have it happen like this, so suddenly ... It is like a dream.”

The American smiled, which was both reassuring and frightening, considering that they were talking about death. “After everything you’ve been through,” he replied, “is it so hard to imagine that maybe, once in a while, the universe might owe you one?”

She laughed and lowered her head, looking at him through her lashes. “Señor, after all I have been through, I have come to know that the universe owes no one anything ... except pain. I do not know why you have done this thing, but I thank you very much on behalf of all the victims that will never be.” She paused a moment, thinking. “Still I am curious. Why ... did you come all this way to kill them? Not for the man I was, I think.”

He shook his head. “No, nothing like that. Finding you was a lucky accident. No, the truth is, my boss sent me.”

“Boss?” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Who ... who are you? Who do you work for?”

He pursed his lips for a moment, swiveling his head to look around the plaza before continuing.

“My name is Weber. I’m what you might call a ... well, a troubleshooter. Some would say I’m a mechanic. My job is to fix things. I work for an organization called First, Do No Harm. The director is a guy with way too much money on his hands and a real hate on for a guy named Josef Mengele.” Weber raised an eyebrow. “Do you know him?”

“A ... a doctor? I ... I think he was ... a very bad man?” She struggled a few seconds longer, then sighed and shook her head. “Lo siento, Señor Weber. They took so much ...”

Weber nodded. “Mengele was a Nazi doctor during World War II. Used humans as guinea pigs for all manner of unnatural experiments. Treated Jews like test animals.”

“Like me?” Pansy rested her fingertips on her chest, and the American nodded.

“Just so. My boss heard about what Don Pablo and his guys were up to, and decided to stop his little business venture before it got too far.” Weber looked around the plaza once more before continuing. “My job was to make Don Pablo and his friends disappeared in a puff of mystery. Once everyone out there who knows about what Don Pablo was doing notices his sudden dramatic disappearance, we’re hoping they’ll start thinking that human experimentation is a really bad idea — especially if playing in that particular playground causes you to wind up dead ... or worse, just plain gone.”

In spite of her hatred of them all, she shuddered inside.

‘He’s so cold about it,’ she thought. ‘So matter-of-fact about killing so many.’

What she said out loud was, “How did you find me here?”

Weber shrugged. “Like I said, I read your files. Your wanting to learn to read and write again was a big deal to them. They were really curious as to whether or not you could learn again. The files said you had classes every Thursday night. And here you are ... and here I am.”

There was a short, companionable silence.

“Thank you for finding me, and telling me,” Pansy said softly. “It will make my nights a little easier in the months and years to come.” Weber inclined his head, his small smile warming his eyes a little.

The girl looks off towards where the car should come from Susana’s home, then turns back to the American. “And where do you go from here, Señor?”

“Back to the states, I suppose,” he replied. “As good a fixer as I am, there aren’t as many truly evil people in the world for me to ... well, fix. So I wait until time and circumstance bring somebody to the boss’s attention, and then I get to work.”

She looked at him sideways, and the hint of a smile twitched the corners of her lips. “You were not always ... a ‘good guy,’ were you, Señor Weber?”

He thought for a moment, then shrugged.

“I don’t know if I’m a ‘good guy’ now, Señora,” he replied, a little tentatively. “I’m good at what I do, and right now I’m doing my best to do good. It hasn’t always been that way, but the truth is, I like being on the side of the angels.” Weber grinned. “That, and it pays well.”

“You were good enough to come tell me what happened.” Pansy smiled. “You didn’t have to.”

“Well, that was only part of why I came looking for you.”

“ ¿Que?”

Weber shifted uncomfortably on the bench.

“I spoke to my boss, and he’s instructed me to make you an offer. He’ll pull you out of here, bring you back to the States and give you an American identity again — a chance at a new life. I told them about what they took from you, and he wants to try to bring at least some of your erased knowledge back.”

“What ... how?”

“It’s not my department, but he said there might be a way. I told him the files said the doctors wouldn’t let you know your real name, and they even put false memories in your head to confuse you. But he said that memories are stored holographically ...” She shook her head, and he sighed. “When something happens to you, your brain puts copies of your memories in a lot of different places, just in case it gets hurt somehow. So copies of your real memories might still be somewhere in your head. He thought if we told you as much as we could about your past life, we might be able to bring them to the surface so you could put the pieces back together. If it doesn’t work, we’ll just teach you full-time until you’ve got at least a high school education, and higher if you want it.”

Her eyes widened, and her lips parted, and he saw her hopes rise. Freedom, and her knowledge back? In that moment, George and Pansy came together as they had never done before, as their shared need for escape overwhelmed the few barriers between them.

Then the fixer sighed.

“But there’s a catch.” Weber looked right at her. “My escape route isn’t set up for children. If you want out, you’re gonna have to leave your kids behind.”

He watched as the light in her eyes slowly died. She aged years in an instant, and it was almost too painful to watch.

“I’m sorry, Señor.” Her voice trembled, and it seemed to hurt her just to speak. “Thank your ‘boss’ for his kind offer, but I cannot leave my children. They are still so young, and they need their mama. I love them.” She looked down at her hands. “And I could never look in a mirror again, if I hurt them just to save myself.”

“Is that Pansy talking ... or George?”

She raised her chin and looked at him again, anger filling her eyes.

“If you read my file, then you know Pansy is not real,” she said bitterly. “I didn’t know myself until a few months ago, but some of George’s memories are coming back. Pansy was nothing but the shadow of Petunia’s dead sister. They pushed her onto George when he was weak and in shock, and after a while she was strong enough to take over what was left of his life and lock him away. But it couldn’t last. The reality of who ... I used to be started coming back.”

She turned away from Weber, and her voice grew hoarse. “And when Hector died, being Pansy hurt so much. George grew even stronger as I ran from my pain. I am as much George as I am Pansy now ... maybe more George, since at least he was real.”

Weber shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense. If the old George really was in control, he would jump at the chance to get out of here and get at least part of his life back.”

Pansy turned and looked at the Anglo, half a sneer on her lips.

“The old George? Look at me, Señor. It should be easy to see that George is not the man he used to be, and he knows he will never be that man again. He also knows why it happened to him. He may have been selfish and cruel, but Señor Deon was never stupid. George lost everything he had ... everything he was ... because he was a bad man. And he began to wonder whether being the kind of man he was ever really made him happy.”

“He’s changed, Señor Weber. Between everything he has gone through, and the love we felt for my husband, he learned two things he never knew, back when he was ... the ‘old’ George.”

She looks away, out over the plaza. Her voice grows wistful, and through the peasant Spanish she speaks, Weber hears her speech pattern change to something almost ... American.

“From Don Pablo and his friends, he knows now that power and knowledge without compassion cause nothing but pain and suffering,” she whispered, “and from our brief time with Hector, he knows that sex without love is nothing but a pale shadow of what it could be. Because of what he has learned — what we have learned together — he has reached out to me as much as I have to him, and the two of us have come to know the truth.”

“The truth?”

Pansy nodded. “We really are one person, Señor. We always have been, separated only by the lies and cruelties of others. George sees the good in Pansy, and Pansy has come to see how George has changed and grown. We grow closer to becoming whole once more, every day. One day soon, there will be no George or Pansy. Just me, whoever that me will be. The best of both of us, we hope.”

He lets her think, just for a moment, before speaking again.

“And the children? Does he ... love them?”

She turns to him and smiles, and it is full of sadness and joy, and regret and emptiness.

“That’s the third thing he learned. Of course he loves them, Señor. How could he not? They are as much a part of him ... as I am. And they always will be. That is why we will not be leaving them, not now or ever.”

She rose to her feet, and Weber found himself rising as well.

“I thank you again for punishing the wicked,” she said, “and giving me some peace at last.” Pansy put out her hand, and he took it, surprised as she shook it firmly. “I wish you well on your journey home. Thank your employer as well for me, please.”

The woman turned away from the American and looked down the road once more, trying to see the car from the ranch, and not the years in the trap stretching out before her.

“You can thank him yourself, when you see him.” She heard from behind her. “You ... and your family.”

She spun around and stared at him, almost unable to speak. “You said —”

“I lied.” Weber stared back, a hint of a smile on his lips. “One of those wicked skills I was telling you about. I have a private jet waiting. You’re free. All of you.”

“Why ... why did you do that to me?” she hissed, anger mixing with her tears slipping down her cheeks as she stared down the fixer. “Give me hope and then take it away! You knew how important that was to me ... to us. Why did you lie?”

He put his hands in his pockets and looked at Pansy for a moment, then looked away.

“I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t mean to hurt you so much. I didn’t think. I just needed ... to be sure.” He looked down and sighed. “The truth is, I used to be a real bastard, just like George. Then something happened. It doesn’t matter what. It ... it just made me stop and rethink who I was and what I was doing, back in the day. More important to me, it made me ask why. So now I do this, and I think, maybe I am a good guy ... or I could be.”

Weber raised his head and looked into her eyes. “But sometimes, late at night, I wonder. Can an asshole like me really change? Or if I’m just pretending because I can’t stand to think of myself as the shit I used to be?”

“So I gave you the choice to save yourself, but only if you left your kids behind, just like George kept doing in the past. You said no.”

Her shoulders dropped, and he could see she was sobbing silently

“I’m ... I’m sorry I did what I did, but it was a good thing in the end.” She looked up at him, eyes red, surprise warring with hate. In spite of that, Weber took a step towards her. “Don’t you see? You beat them!”

The hate and hurt faded some under the weight of rising confusion. The fixer went on. “Look at what just happened! All the things they did to you, all the years of torture, everything ... and you beat them. They wanted to make you less, and instead they made you more. They wanted to destroy you, and instead they made you better ... stronger in the end. They wanted to punish you forever. Instead, you learned. You grew and changed, and redeemed yourself.” He held out his hand. “Congratulations, George. You won.”

She looked at the hand for a while, as she began to realize the truth of what he said. Then she looked into his eyes, saw his regret mixed with his need to make her see. Finally, she took a deep breath and shook his hand.

“Thank you, I think,” she said softly. “It still hurts, what you did, but you’re right. I did win. This is the first time I’ve felt like I’ve won anything since this all began. And if you can get me and mi familia to America, I am more than willing to be forgiving.”

“Still, I’m not exactly George. Not Pansy either. Not anymore.” She thought for a moment, looking into his eyes. Then she smiled.

“Call me Georgia. Georgia Trujillo. A new name for a new life. I know Pansy doesn’t mind, and I’m sure Hector won’t, either. If there is a Heaven, he would want us all safe, and happier than we ever could be, here.”

Weber gave her hand a squeeze, then let it go. “Georgia, then. Let’s go get your kids.”

They started walking away from the plaza, and she stopped suddenly. “Oh! What about ... my ride back to the ranch? He will be here soon.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so. By now, everyone there already knows Don Pablo is missing. I’m sure picking up one of the maids from her class in town dropped clear off of everybody’s radar.”

“ ¿Que?”

Weber sighed. “They’ve probably forgotten all about you.”

She nodded, and they began walking again. “I have to take Josecito, too. I do love him, very much, and I worry about what she might do to him when she finds out I am gone. Even though he is Susana’s as much as he is mine, I cannot be sure she will not torture him as she tortured me, out of her loss and anger. Unless ... unless she was one of the ones you —?”

The fixer shook his head. “She didn’t know enough about the process to be worth killing. Unless you want her dead, too, considering what she did to you.”

Georgia shrugged. “What I did to her before this all started was terrible. To inspire such hatred ... I can’t say part of her reaction wasn’t my fault. She got her satisfaction from what she did to me, and losing Josecito will be punishment enough, if she truly loved him as a mother should. But if she loved him, why did she never play with him, or care for him?”

“Not my department,” Weber said. “What is my department is being sneaky, so there won’t be a problem taking him along with your two. By now, everyone is over at Don Pablo’s, wondering where the old man could have got to. That means it’s only the servants left looking after the little ones at Susana’s ranch. I’ll have to put them to sleep for a while when we get your family. After all, we want your disappearance to appear to be part of the mystery, too, so no one will come looking for you.”

They walked for a while in silence. “Tell me, Señor, do you think they could find work for me with your ... your ... whatever it is?”

He considered a moment before replying. “I’ll talk to the boss, but I don’t see a problem. We’re a big operation, after all. Once we get your memory back (or as much of it as we can manage), I can’t think of a better place for you to be than helping to stop what happened to you from happening to somebody else. Can you?”

Georgia shook her head and smiled slightly. Weber grinned, then snorted, and she gave him a look.

“You’ll like working with us, ‘Mom,’” he said. “We’ve got a day care center at the headquarters like you wouldn’t believe.”

She put her arm in his and smiled up at him. “It will be nice to have ... back-up?” He nods. “It will be nice to have back-up again. Hector helped some with the children, at least enough for me to take a few moments to cook or clean or bathe ... you know. But recently, I stole what time I could when the children slept. It made things ... harder.”

Georgia sighed, almost happy. “I’m looking forward to being able to look forward again. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt ... hope.”

“I think you’d better get used to it, then, Señora,” Weber replied. She gave his arm a squeeze and he looked down and grinned. “I’m thinking you and hope are going to be together for a long, long time.”

© 2011, all rights reserved. Posted with permission of the author.