I came to in bed, the brightness of the morning sun piercing through the crack in my eyelids. The air was still and hushed, inside and out; there was only the quiet ticking of a clock somewhere. Frost ferns glimmered on the window-panes. I felt both sleepy and refreshed - like when you awaken from a long-overdue nap no longer exhausted, but not really wanting to leave the comforting warmth of your bed either.

Wait, this was my bed. How had I gotten here? What'd happened? I was a little out of it, and my memories were a slightly-jumbled haze, but I remembered the storm, the bus ride, my encounter in the street with...

Mom. Where was she!? Was she safe? She wasn't still out there...!? I was lying facing the window, my key hanging out over the edge of the mattress, and I couldn't see the rest of the room. I was about to lurch out of bed when I heard a stirring next to me, and a familiar voice said "Oh, you're awake."

I sighed in relief; something about it felt funny, but I was too groggy to put my finger on it. That was fine; it was enough to know she was okay. "How...how long was I out?" I asked. My voice had the familiar metallic timbre, but there was something strange about the way it resonated in my chest. And I felt like I'd slept for a week.

"All through yesterday," Tammy said, from the foot of the bed. "It's just after nine on the twenty-fourth. No surprise; this side of you hasn't really slept in almost two months."

That was an odd thing to say; but it wasn't the only thing that was odd right now. As I sorted myself out, I realized that a lot of things felt...different. I could feel my chest rise and fall in time with my breath; my veins gently pulsing; the trickle of saliva in my mouth. I could feel an exquisite array of tactile sensations, skin brushing against blankets, against clothes, against skin; and I felt parts of myself squish into the mattress or each other in a way that really shouldn'tve been possible now...or ever, for some of them.

My brain clattered as I tried to process it all, but the sound was muted, like the mechanisms were wrapped in a thick, soft insulating layer. Along with the now-familiar sensations of my internals ticking away, I felt something I'd almost forgotten: the raw, hormonal thrill of animal surprise-instinct. What was going on here!? I didn't know, but I was starting to guess, and uncertainty suspense, and anticipation coursed through me in a way that they hadn't in ages.

Taking a deep breath - and feeling my chest expand - I rolled onto my stomach and pushed myself up off the mattress. Something was definitely up here; gravity was making itself known to me in a new and unfamiliar way. Eyes widening, I stumbled off the bed and into the bathroom. I needed winding, I could tell; but it didn't slow me down as much as it had up to now. Steeling myself, I turned to the mirror - and softly gasped.

Reflected in the glass was a young woman, no more than five feet tall, with vibrant silver-white hair. It was soft and full, and neatly framed her face, which wasn't exactly beautiful, but was pleasingly cute. Her irises were deep purple and her skin was pale cream; she was delicately built and attired in nothing but a camisole and a pair of boxer-briefs. Behind her was an enormous winding key: two great loops of ivory on a shaft protruding from the middle of her back, slowly turning counter-clockwise to the ticking of countless mechanisms somewhere within her body.

For a long moment I just stared, simply watching, hardly even sure what I was seeing. As I began to wrap my mind around it, I took in more details - the delicate gemstone shutters within eyes that were soft and damp rather than cold and hard; the gentle flaring of the nostrils when I inhaled; the unbroken skin around the joints; the fact that it was skin, and not flesh-toned fabric; the ticking of the escapement on my mainspring being joined by a synchronous ba-thump, ba-thump from within the left side of my chest...

I gazed down over my reflection, and was surprised to see my navel; then I glanced back up to my chest. Hesitantly, I pulled up my cami, and there they were, puffy pink nipples crowning the breasts - my breasts, modest but artfully-sculpted, soft and perky and arrestingly real. Somewhat more urgently, I pulled my waistband out and took a quick glance down; yes, that had changed, too...

Covering myself, I turned back to the mirror. Was that it, then? There was no more ambiguity, but was having the right bits really all it took to make me definitely one thing and not another? How much did all the social context I hadn't grown up with count for? Or the way I perceived myself? ("Identified?") Surely this was a lot more complex than just ticking off a couple anatomical boxes; but, well, for the moment...

...Yeah, I thought to myself. I can live with this.

The face in the glass caught my eye; it was strangely familiar. It always kinda had been, but once I was a girl it was undeniable; and I recognized it now. It was her face, minus the years and the worries; and as I realized this, it was joined in the mirror by the original.

"Your, uh, your roommate said you could probably use this," my mother said nervously; before I could reply, she took hold of my key and began to wind me. Her touch was a little stiff, a bit uneasy; but it was warm and loving and comforting in ways I hadn't realized I desperately needed until now. My lip quivered and my eyes started tearing up between strokes, and as she finished, I found myself bursting into tears and sobbing like a child.

She took me in her arms, wrapping me in her soft, warm embrace; I could feel her shaking and hear her voice quaver. "Honey," she said gently, "I'm so thankful that you're finally figuring out what you want for yourself. And...I can't say I really understand, but...I love you, and I don't want you to ever think you can't talk to me. And if...if I have trouble with it...please, don't blame yourself. God knows I'm nothing like perfect, but I want to be there for you, honey."

"And," she said, "if I said I'm glad you take after your father...well, honey, I am proud of your academic abilities. But it means much more to me that you've got his readiness to use your knowledge for others. From what your roommates tell me, you've found an outlet for it that means a lot to you, and...whether or not I understand, I'm glad for that."

That set me off into a fresh round of bawling, and it took a good while to finally collect myself, tempo and heartbeat alike settling down into a normal rhythm. I felt a bit silly for making scene like that, but...God, did I need it. I'd needed it for years...

Besides, if I was gonna worry about making a spectacle of myself, it was more embarrassing to be standing around in my underwear after checking out my privates in front of my mother and roommate, having forgotten to even shut the door. I'd just have to plead extenuating circumstances; at least neither of them seemed bothered by it.

Still, I should get dressed. I went to the closet, running over the options: the top from Emma was hardly winter wear, and I'd worn the skirt yesterday, so it was still damp from the snow and ice in addition to being all rumpled. (Geez, I was gonna have to start changing clothes daily again, wasn't I...?) There were the jeans and T-shirts, but...

My eyes kept coming back to it: the dress I'd gotten in the change. I hadn't worn it since; not because I really disliked it, so much as that it was a stark reminder of everything I was afraid to face. But on its own merits...it wasn't overly frilly, just a simple, understated black dress with white trim, like a less old-timey version of that outfit of Anne's. I...I didn't hate it, and it was tailored around my winding key...plus, it had that extra under-layer ("slip," that was the term,) which might make it warmer...?

I felt a little self-conscious as I took it off the hanger - but the hell with it. I slipped it on and buttoned it up around my key-shaft, took a moment to straighten it out, and checked my work in the mirror; yes, that was about right. I glanced at Mom nervously, but she didn't seem bothered, and Tammy chuckled. "I think you're gonna want some leggings with that, in this weather," she said. "I, uh, don't have much use for mine anymore. Hang on a sec."

Criminy, she was right. I could probably freeze myself, now; being out in a blizzard bare-legged in an above-the-knee skirt and ratty T-shirt hadn't been great for me, jacket or no. There were all kinds of things I'd have to readjust to, actually. Sure, most were things I'd dealt with my whole life, but she'd been right; all it takes is a couple months of not having to for you to kinda forget...

And there'd be a few new issues, I realized, with a slight cringe. Hell, I didn't even have a real bra, other than that bandeau thing; did I need one? I didn't know. It was irrelevant when my "breasts" were sculpted metal forms covered in fake "skin," but now...? I'd have to ask, I supposed; I knew what Emma would say...

"You know," I said, thinking aloud, "Emma's gonna flip her lid when she hears about this."

"No," Tammy laughed, returning with a pair of leggings, "she's going to lose her head...!" I failed to stifle a snort, but I could see Mom cringe.

"Actually, she's been texting me non-stop the whole time; she hasn't even taken the chance to do all that gloating she promised. Um, here you go," she said, handing them to me. "...Merry Christmas, Sue."

Mom got a strange look at that, but I was too busy putting the things on, feeling the stretchy fabric slide up the bare skin of my calves and thighs, to think much of it. "Thanks," I said with a smile; yes, that did feel more comfortable. "Merry Christmas, Tammy."

She smiled. "Y'know," she said, "I guess I'm gonna have to save you some baklava now."

"Oh, uh, tha-" I was suddenly interrupted by the loudest stomach-growl I'd ever heard. It took me a moment to realize that it'd come from me, and they were just as startled; there was another thing I'd have to get used to again. The mere mention of food left me suddenly weak at the knees; I'd never been this hungry in my life.

"I, uh," Tammy chuckled, "I guess you haven't eaten in almost two months, either."

"G-guess not," I said weakly.

"Well," she said, with a casual flick of a pectoral fin, "I've got a couple hours before Rhoda comes to get me, and I happen to know a diner with a killer breakfast platter..." There was another rumble from my abdomen. "...We could probably hit the cafeteria for some of those sugar cookies on the way."

"P-please." I stumbled towards the door, grabbing my purse and jacket; at least Mom and Tammy were already dressed. Come think, how long had they been up...? And...Mom must've dragged me back here, right? Must've hauled my clumsy, heavy clockwork ass off the street, down the skywalk, back to the dorm...

I felt strangely warm at the thought that she cared for me that much. I glanced back at her face; at the aging skin, the lines and wrinkles. How much of that was for my sake? Not to say that some of it (well, a lot of it) hadn't been misguided, but...maybe we were both at fault for that. If I'd only been able to be honest with her, if she'd only realized how her reactions made me feel...maybe we both had some things to work on. But then, we had time for it.

She still had that strange look on her face; a warm, nostalgic look, but slightly confused as well. "You know," she said, as we headed out, "that's what I was going to name you, if..."

I couldn't hide a smile. "I know, Mom."

The long and short of it was this: we went to the diner, and I ate like nobody's business. You really don't know what a truly, 100% empty stomach is like until you've experienced it, no matter how petite your new girl-body is. It was alright, though; after the awkwardness of the other night, Mom and Tammy seemed to have hit it off, so they didn't mind that I hardly said anything while stuffing my face.

And as it happened, I met my elderly friend there, which led to yet a third round of introduction and explanation, since Mom had never met him and Tammy only saw him in passing the once (though she'd gotten the gist of his story.) He gave me a knowing look when he saw me in the dress, but funnily enough I didn't feel that awkward about it. Once I'd sated my immense hunger, we talked for a bit about everything I'd been through, and how I felt about all of it.

Eventually, his granddaughter showed up, and he had to excuse himself to go spend Christmas with the family (or at least the local branch.) Once we'd finished up at the diner we returned to campus to meet Rhoda; she was as intrigued by the new-new me as she'd been by the new me, and wanted to drag me along, but for the first time in a long, long while, I actually had somewhere to be.^*

^* (She did make me promise to come visit, undoubtedly so she could rope me into more LARP/costume shenanigans. But I didn't mind, especially if it meant getting to hear the family band again.)

And finally we went home, Mom and I.^* Christmas was...well, complicated; all of my relations had last seen me human and male, and not everyone knew what to make of the new me. Some of the conversations were more than a little uncomfortable; but Mom was there for me, and she had a knack for keeping people in line without having to say anything. Not everybody was awkward about it, either; and, really, it was a relief just to have it out there...

^* (And Lucky.)

Much more important than the festivities was our time together. Neither of us quite knew how to make this all work; we'd had enough trouble as mother and son, let alone mother and daughter. But for the first time in ages, we were actually communicating - able to speak freely, and to actually listen to each other. We were still a bit stiff and awkward; it takes time to really heal the kind of thing we'd let fester between us. But it was a step in the right direction, and that was more than enough of a present for both of us.

Emma did get around to gloating, but not before spending the rest of the week peppering me with questions about my new form. She'd also talked me into sending a photo while we were driving home, and I forgot I was wearing the dress; her reaction was predictable, and I knew she was going to drag me back up to the mall, by force if necessary. In exchange, she sent me a photo the next day of herself out riding, one hand on the reins and the other clutching her head. Despite her suggestion, I didn't show it to Mom.

Before we knew it, the holidays were over, and it was back to campus, back to class, and back to hitting the books. It was probably good that I had to hit the ground running; it kept me from overthinking things when I had classes to juggle on top of all the basic-life-adjustment stuff. Sure, I drew more attention than I'd like, but I'd had to get used to that already, and I had my friends on campus to rely on when I needed it.

Make no mistake, there was a lot of basic-life-adjustment stuff. Just being a biological lifeform again was a big switch - not only do I get cold, tired, and hungry now, but I have to cut my hair, trim my nails, brush my teeth, bathe, go to the bathroom, etc. And being female brought its own challenges; I developed a whole new empathy for what my roommates had to deal with the first time my period came around, learned a lot about the ways that even my modest breasts could be a bit of a nuisance, and had some awkward, annoying conversations with Emma and Tammy about the unspoken standards for grooming and presentation that women are held to...

There was a lot to learn about the peculiarities of my new body, as well. Grace had me come in for a pile of additional scans, in hopes that comparing notes between my purely clockwork and biomechanical forms would shed some light on how my mechanisms worked.^* My biological and mechanical systems seem to be synergistic; I have to breathe, have to eat, etc., but I no longer stop completely when I run down - and when I'm wound, I actually have more energy than I did as a human.

It's a strange system, but I don't mind it, even though I still need somebody to wind me in order to make it through the day at normal capacity. Tammy was right: everybody needs some kind of help from others, and there's nothing wrong with that...

^* (They're still figuring that out, but we did learn that my mechanical components are made out of biological materials, like how they used to use whale baleen for springs. Which means that it's definitely possible for me to heal when injured, as much as for anybody.)

I did end up switching majors. I had to scramble over the summer session to get accepted into the program, but as one of the school's two wholly unique demi-human students and a research subject working with a major university, I had just a bit more leverage than I otherwise might've. I'm glad I did; it's been challenging making up for lost time, but the chance to do fulfilling work in a field that interests me is more than worth it. (And it's not as if my aptitude for math and science has no application.)

There's still a lot that remains unknown. In fact, I attracted even more attention after word got out, as one of a very few people to undergo a spontaneous transformation after being changed. Many different explanations have been put forward - was it cumulative ambient radiation? Some kind of radio lensing effect from the storm? Was my mechanical form, in defiance of precedent, somehow "incomplete" as a species? Everyone has their own opinion, and as usual, most reflect what they already believed about the matter.

For myself...I wouldn't say I have a hypothesis; I'd need a working theory on the mechanics of metamorphic phenomena to even have a basis for one, and I don't have that yet. But in context, with everything else that changed in my life over those couple days - those couple months - I have my suspicions about where the answer lies...

It's been almost a year now, and I'm still figuring some stuff out. Gil and Tammy have been very patient with me as I slowly sort out my sexual identity and what I feel comfortable with. It's funny: in some ways, being biological again is like coming home after a sabbatical, but in other ways, being biologically female is like finding myself in a parallel dimension; even the feelings I recognize are subtly (or not so subtly) different, and some things are just plain new.

Really, it's not bad, despite the difficulties; in fact, some parts of it are very, very nice. But it's taken some getting used to, and I'm only really getting a handle on how I feel about myself now, after nine months of living with it day-in-day-out. I may not have asked for this, or thought I wanted it; but I think I'm finally coming to terms with it.

It's funny; I never noticed at the time that our fateful Friday night was October 31st. Partly that was because the weather kept any partying confined to the frat houses; mostly, though, it was because I had nowhere to be, and no reason to be anywhere. I was just marking time, aimlessly making my way through a life I'd let other people plan out for me because I couldn't admit to myself that I did have feelings of my own. When life is just something that happens to you because the Watchmaker's little orrery won't stop spinning, there's no reason to care what day it is.

But this Halloween, I think I'll go as myself.