What My Mother Needs

"Oh. God! That sick, sick bastard!" I shook my head. What the hell had been wrong with my grandfather to do that to his own daughter? Then it occurred to me. "He wanted you out of the picture! If she succeeded or failed, she'd have to leave you, and you would likely let her go if she attacked you like that, even without knowing why she did it, especially if it kept happening!"

"Ah... I see. That's... a possibility I hadn't considered." Dad grudgingly admitted.

"Dad, Grandad was an evil shitstain on the underwear of humanity," I pronounced the indictment solemnly. "I'm glad he's gone, and I'm glad I killed him even if was an accident. I'll never say that to Mom, but I want you to know how I feel about him."

Dad nodded. "I'm afraid I agree with you, son, and I am grateful that you ended things before they could get any worse."

I never knew Dad to express approval of violence, but this was, of course, a special case. If he'd lived, Grandad would have been in complete control of Mom. As it was, she was 'only' severely fucked up, but there was hope for her recovery.

"I talked to the district attorney earlier today. Since your Grandfather is dead, and they haven't found out where he got his... equipment... or drugs, there really isn't anyone left to charge. He offered us his sympathies, and best wishes for your Mom's recovery, but that's all he can really do. The police are aware that this is out there, now, and will investigate appropriately if they run across it again. Apparently, the physical re-wiring of the brain is impossible to hide from an MRI, so they'll be able to recognize it again -- when they get an MRI from the victim." Dad continued, "They do not wish to make this knowledge public, and I agree. Someone provided this technology to your grandfather, and we want him caught and prosecuted, don't we?"

"Absolutely!" I breathed.

"The story that is being put forward is that your grandfather lost his mind and did some terrible things to your mother, and you stopped him, and he died in the fight. Your mother has been traumatized, and will be dealing with this for a long time. This will take care of what is already out there in gossip world, and hopefully, limit what conclusions people reach."

In fact, that was precisely what was announced on the local news. The next day, people began showing up with food, and not-so-subtle hints that they'd like to know the full story. It was mostly women friends of my Mom's, but there were a couple of their husbands, too. I told them no more than the basic story that Dad and the police had worked out.

"How did you feel, seeing your mother being attacked like that?" was a very common question.

"Angry and hurt, and I had to stop it," was, of course, my answer.

"How is your mother doing?" was another.

"She is recovering in the hospital, but we hope to have her home sometime soon," was the answer Dad and I gave to that one.

We did eat pretty well that week, but it still just wasn't Mom's cooking, which she filled with love. Our nextdoor neighbor's casserole was pretty darn tasty, though!

Dad shared news of the visits and food contributions with Mom, who seemed cheered by it, feeling that people were getting past their judginess. Dad said he agreed with her when she said so, but had his suspicions about it in reality. He just couldn't make Mom feel worse.

On Friday, I finished packing all my stuff (okay, so it wasn't a lot of stuff and could all be packed in an hour, at least all I was taking) to return to college over the weekend. I cleaned the house as well as I could, and waited for Dad to get home.

He came in and smiled at the condition of the house, and said, "They're discharging your mother tomorrow, so all your hard work today is perfect!"

It wasn't perfect, but it was nice to be appreciated, not that it was particularly unusual in our family. I was raised in a home that focussed on manners, courtesy, and appreciating the work of others. What was exciting was that Mom would finally be home the next day, though I would have to leave the day after.

We went out for a celebration dinner at Chili's to celebrate, and I polished off a full rack of the baby back ribs while Dad enjoyed a steak. When we got home, we were both tired and turned in. I slept like a baby.

* * *

Dad brought Mom home the next day, and called before they got home, repeating Dr. Thompson's cautions about what I said to Mom. I promised I would.

When the door opened, I heard Mom's delighted squeal, "Miles! Oh, honey, it is so good to see you!"

To be frank, I was sort of shocked, she seemed so animated and delighted to be home with her family. She kept Dad in a side hug as she reached out to me to join them. I did, and we had the first family group hug since I'd been fifteen years old.

"Welcome home, Mom!" I said as I hugged her. After a moment or two, I backed up and looked carefully into her face. "How are you feeling, Mom?"

Oh, honey, I feel so much better! The headaches are gone, as is the confusion, and I can show your Dad how very much I love him again!" She gave Dad a kiss that melted his socks and made me blush and look away.

"I'm so very glad, Mom," I said. I really was, of course, but who really wants to see their parents make out? "But geez! Get a room!"

They laughed, like they always had when I reacted to them getting mushy. It was amazingly comforting to hear, because it was so like it had been before. I was feeling like maybe we had dodged a bullet... that was stupid; it was more like, no, it was Mom healing more quickly than expected when she'd been... God, Miles, quit dwelling on it like that! Just be proud of Mom and glad for Dad!

I shook my head. "Sorry! I'm just glad you're home, Mom, and I'm glad you're both happy."

We went to the kitchen, started coffee brewing, and sat at the table and talked. Mom patted my shoulder when I told her that Belinda wasn't coming back this semester. "Oh, son, don't worry! You are such a fine and handsome young man that any woman, uh, girl, would be interested in getting close with you! Someone will catch your eye in no time, you'll see!" She had a funny look on her face as she said that last part.

"Thanks, Mom," I responded. "But I'm kind of picky. I'm looking for a certain type of girl, and while there are few of that type, there are fewer of them who might be interested in me."

"Sometime, you'll have to tell me what your 'certain type of girl' is! But I want to know if you're out of that old dorm and into one of the new ones?"

"Same building, same room," I said. "I can move to one of the newer ones next year," I answered. She'd seen my dorm at the beginning of the year, when I moved in, and she had not been impressed. I was looking forward to the upgrade next Fall semester, myself. The dorm I was in was the oldest on campus, and it showed. It was also the designated freshmen's dorm.

"Oh, pooh!" Mom mock-groused. "Well, next year will be more comfortable." Then she sobered and asked, "Your dad said you plan on going back tomorrow?"

"Yes. I probably should have left today to have everything done before Monday, but I had to see you home before I left."

"Ohhh, Miles! That's so sweet!" Mom smiled and blushed prettily.

Dad grinned at me and nodded approval. "She was worried you'd have already left," he said.

"And miss you coming home, Mom? Never!" I acted mock-offended at the idea.

Mom grinned wider and said, "Well, not really, or only a little. I've missed having you around these last few days to talk to, young man."

All this was so very much like nothing had actually happened to Mom! The flow and feel of the conversation was just like old times. I smiled. "All this is so wonderfully normal! I cannot tell you how happy I am!"

"You are happy, though, right?" Mom asked, seeming a bit confused.

"Happy? I am ecstatic, Mom! We... I thought this might be lost forever."

"No, honey, not lost. And you gave me the key to finding it again!" Mom said.

"I'm glad I could help," I told her. "You're my Mom!"

Mom smiled and 'boop'ed my nose, then laughed.

I smiled, then frowned as I realized something -- I told Mom I couldn't tell her how happy I was. My telling her that I couldn't tell her somehow meant she could not recognize my obvious love and pleasure in the normality. She had to be told I was happy, or at least telling her the first part caused the confusion, while telling her the second part corrected it.

Damn, be careful what I say indeed! It was really freaky to see the reason why in action.

Dad caught my change of expression and nodded to me, acknowledging my insight.

It must have been written on my face, because Mom said, "Miles, it is going to be okay. Dr. Thompson said that he expects that I'll stop getting confused like that soon. Something about the slowing of the new nerve growth, which he says is a good and promising thing."

"Oh."

"It does make sense, if you think about it," Dad said.

"How?" I asked.

"Think -- imagine that you are doing this to someone. Would you want anyone else to be able to say something and be obeyed? It would be better if the nerve-growth drug stopped working after a while, during which time the subject would have to be isolated, kept away from anyone who could give conflicting orders. So, as a mind controller, you would want it to be relatively short-acting, perhaps even need it to be."

"Huh. Who would think like... nevermind!" I aborted the question before it could emerge fully from my mouth.

"It has been eye-opening, going through this with your mother, Dr. Thompson, and the police. I've had to try to understand why someone who would do this, would do it this way." Dad replied.

"Um, maybe lack of a better way?" I guessed.

"That may well be part of it. Someone discovered it, and had to develop methods to take advantage of the effects it produced. Isolate the victim, dose them with the drug or drugs, show them the type of porn you want them to emulate, give them their new instructions and stimulate them sexually as they absorb it all. It stimulates the reward center in the brain, which has a new source of input because of the drug treatment, and it sets up a feedback loop which motivates all kinds of change in the person."

"Reward center? It seems like that would addict the victim to their programming?" I guessed.

"Got it on the first try! Sadly, that would be enough to deal with, but that's only a part of the changes. Finding a way to be in harmony with those changes that can't be undone, finding a way to live without, or with as few of the consequences of the assault on her mind is what the doctor, your mother and I are trying to do. You were able to change some of her programming, and that gives us important clues as to how to proceed," said Dad.

"Anything I can do to help, Dad, I will," I assured him again.

"I know, Miles, but right now we think you've done everything you can that might lead to a positive outcome. We hope that what you've already helped us with will be enough," Dad said. "If another opportunity to restore part of your Mom's life by giving her suggestions presents itself, you will be the first call."

"And so, to minimize the chances of me saying something stupid that will undermine everything, I'm going back to school," I nodded. "I got it, Dad."

Mom took my hand and looked me in the eye. "Miles, I want you to know that I'm doing what you told me, and, so far, it is working wonderfully! It is so good to be back home, and with my family! I'll miss you very much when you're gone, but I understand and agree that you should go back to school, at least until I can listen to you safely again."

She hugged Dad, and gave him a look I couldn't read, probably one of those husband-wife unspoken message that both understood but no one else could. You know, couple stuff. It was good to see.

Dad grinned, and said, "Well, let's go out to dinner and celebrate your Mom being home!" He looked at Mom, "What're you in the mood for, honey?"

"After all that hospital food, I want Italian!" Mom answered.

"Sounds good to me!" I contributed.

"Italian it is, then!" Dad laughed, and I scrambled upstairs to get dressed appropriately to go out. When I came back down, Mom and Dad were cuddling on the couch.

"Aww, that's cute, but I'm hungry!" I said as I walked into the living room. Mom laughed, and Dad grinned.

"Well, let's go eat, then!" Dad said, standing and helping Mom to her feet. "La Taverna Italiano sound good?"

Heck, yes, it sounded good! It was my favorite restaurant in the world! It was high on Mom's list, too, so it was a win all the way around.

We had a great dinner, and while I, perforce, didn't say much at all except to order, I did enjoy listening as Mom and Dad talked. It was like old times, in fact, it was almost exactly like my high school graduation dinner celebration, which we'd had at the same restaurant, although I'd talked a whole lot more, then. Mom was wearing the same dress, though, I realized.

By the end of the meal, Mom was almost curled against Dad, smiling and laughing at his comments and jokes, and making her own jokes, often playing off of his. My face hurt from so much smiling.

We went home in the best of moods. It was like the last few weeks had not happened at all, and Mom was acting and reacting just as she always had. As we went into the house, Mom gave Dad's hand a squeeze and a certain smile that I rarely saw, but Dad definitely knew and had been hoping to see. He kissed her gently and smiled into her eyes, saying, "I love you so much, sweetheart!"

That was my cue to head to my bedroom and give them space to be romantic. I said goodnight and did exactly that.

The next morning, I went down to a wonderful breakfast, cooked by Mom. Dad's plate, frankly, looked better than mine, not that mine was bad! I guess Mom was trying to make up for the last breakfast she'd made for him.

Dad was on cloud nine. He couldn't seem to help smiling and finding reasons to touch or embrace her, lots of reasons. And Mom returned the giving looks, smiles, and embraces with appreciation and love. The breakfast was delicious, but it was over all too soon, and I had to get on the road.

I told Mom and Dad I loved them, and after a brief pit stop, grabbed my suitcases and carried them downstairs.

"I know it's only till Thursday, but I will miss you," Mom said. "I want you to do well in school, okay? Just... focus on school."

Dad grinned, and said "She means 'Don't worry about us,' son. We'll be fine." He hugged Mom from the side and they smiled at each other again.

"Okay, I've had enough of the PDA for this morning! I should get on the road. I love you guys!" I said, and went in for hugs.

"I'm very glad you came home for Christmas, son, though I'm sorry we couldn't really celebrate it. Maybe we can do it in a week or so? Whaďdya think?" Dad asked as he gave me a bear hug.

I hadn't even thought about Christmas during this whole mess. "That sounds good, Dad! Mom?"

"That sounds good to me, too," Mom said. "I'll have to go through the fridge and pantry and toss out anything that went bad while I was away... yes, I can have a Christmas dinner ready by Saturday. I'm glad it's just us, since you won't be here to help clean the house...."

"Mom! It'll be okay! We can skip the deep housecleaning this year!" I said. "It'll just be immediate family, and we know what the house looks like every other week of the year!" I joked.

"Hmm. I suppose you're right," Mom grinned, and reached for a hug. When I moved towards her, she hugged me hard, and said, "I love you, Miles. I will never forget what you've done for me. Remember what I said -- you are my hero. Carry that with you in your heart, okay?" She released me, and gave me a shaky smile.

"You are a hero, son," Dad said, "and a lot of people know it. I am proud of you, Miles. I couldn't be more proud."

I was bright red with embarrassment. "Um, thanks, Mom, Dad. I should probably get on the road, now."

I picked up my stuff and headed for the door, which Mom opened and held for me. She waved after me as I walked to my car and put my stuff in the trunk. I waved back to her and hopped in the car and started it. As I was driving away, I saw that she was still watching until I was out of sight.

* * *

The week passed quickly, and before I knew it, it was Thursday and I had to drive back home for the appointment with Dr. Thompson. No one appeared to have heard about my Mom's... incident at the college, or, at least, no one said anything that even hinted that they might have known anything about it.

It occurred to me as I drove that I hadn't seen or heard any kind of news coverage of Mom's attack. Of course, the story was complex and would be hard for some people to believe. Had the police not said anything about it? I guess they don't talk about 'ongoing investigations,' or, maybe, they don't want anyone to know that this was out there, and that by giving it exposure, they'd actually being allowing more people to investigate it and perhaps find the technology Grandad had used on Mom. And, it wasn't like they could charge a dead man for the crime. And what would they charge him with if he was still alive? Was there even an applicable law, other than attempted incest? Even if there was such a law, with the conditioning that Grandad had used, the victim themselves could only defend their abuser, and wouldn't even consider them an abuser. It would look completely consensual, unless you knew how to look with an MRI.

So the police had reasons to not talk openly about it, which led some people to assume and believe that it was consensual, judging from the gossip out there. Close friends would know better, but there are a lot of opinionated assholes out there who don't care to consider how what they say might affect others.

I put all my dark thoughts about things aside as I arrived at Dr. Thompson's office, parked, and went in. There was no one in the waiting room except a receptionist, to whom I gave my name and my reason for being there.

"Miles! It is nice to finally meet you!" said the receptionist. "I'm Paula, and I'm sure the doctor will see you in just a moment."

"Nice to finally meet me?" I asked.

"Oh, yes. Your mom is very proud of you! She says you are a hero!" Paula smiled. "Here's Dr. Thompson, now!"

Dr. Thompson opened the door out of the waiting room and held it for me. "Come on back, Miles!" He called, and I shuffled through it to be led down a few doors to his office.

We settled, he behind his desk, me on a sofa, and he asked me, "Did you have a good first week back at school?"

"Yeah, I guess," I agreed, relatively indifferently. School wasn't why I was there.

"So you've been able to focus on your class work, get enough sleep, eat appropriately? What am I saying? Never mind about eating appropriately! That is never a good question to ask first or second year college students! I remember what I used to eat like when I was your age!" He laughed, and I had to chuckle. His words weren't that far off the mark.

"Yes, I'm eating and sleeping like usual, and I have been doing fine in class, so far."

"Good, good!" the doctor approved. "I know the main reason you're here is to get an update on your mother, and find out if there is anything else we might try, right?"

"Right."

"Your mother seems to be adjusting well to being home with your father. Neither she nor Andy have noted any difficulties, though your mother does seem to be missing you a great deal. I think that there is a bit less of a feeling of stability since all three of you aren't there. She is missing her hero."

I snorted.

"No, Miles. This is actually important. Your presence gives her a feeling if security that she doesn't get from anyone else."