WAR:  Happiness is Black Leather and Spandex
Robin, Partly - Perkulators (with Jamie)
Tues.  AM - before Follow the Beep, Beep, Beep


Jamie breathed in deeply.  The smell of black leather had always made her
feel so giddy, so alive, so . . . She couldn't quite think of the words,
but happy came closest.  She smiled at her reflection in the mirrors and
hugged herself, nearly swooning as the leather creaked and rustled against
the spandex.  The events of the past days where jumbled confusion in her
mind.  To many people had tried to "adjust" her thinking, too many times. 
Somewhere, in the very back reaches of her consciousness, a rational, sane
voice had been screaming to be heard.  It didn't stand a chance against
the sight of Vachon in black spandex. 

Vachon would just *love* this outfit.  If she'd known just how much Vachon
liked leather and spandex, she'd have bought an outfit or four long ago. 
This should make him a happy man indeed. 

And Jamie wanted to make him happy.  She wanted him to be as happy as the
mere thought of him made her happy.  As happy as she was when she was
flying, safe in his arms, her head resting against his chest, encircled by
black leather.  She would make him happy, she knew she could--she had to. 
The thought of Vachon unhappy . . .  She started to weep, then stopped,
suppressing a sniffle.  SHE would make him happy.  She would.  She'd make
him so happy that he'd forget all about poor Tracy. 

Jamie frowned.  But how could he?  He'd loved her.  He must miss her
terribly.  He must be so unhappy.  No, no, he couldn't be unhappy.  Jamie
couldn't stand that.  Tracy would made him happy, once they found her. 
But what if she were dead . . . 

A soft knock on the door of the dressing room made her jump.  Jamie saw a
pair of impossibly high-heeled boots and forest green leather leggings. 
It must be that nice woma pick the outfit she was wearing.  Her name was
Scarlet Letier or something like that.  She was very nice, even if the
chains and spikes were a little intimidating. 

But then, everyone had been SO nice.  The Vaqueros were nice.  But she
couldn't stay with them.  She had to make Vachon happy, she couldn't do
that there, and so she'd left.  She'd waited until dawn, crept up to the
roof, and then had flown across to nearby tree.  A mere twenty feet--easy
enough for one who could fly.  But flying was something she had only just
learned to do, so she had given herself a running start.  After that,
she'd wandered aimlessly until she'd seen this store.  It was perfect. 
She'd walked into the store, not knowing what to expect and everyone had
burst into applause.  It was, they informed her, the shop's fiftieth
anniversary and the fiftieth customer was titled to anything in the store. 
Anything.  And Jamie was that customer. 

Jamie admired herself in the mirror again, and scratched her arm absently. 
She felt something peel off under her nails and she frowned at the
temporary tattoo that was coming off her arm.  Where did she get that? 
She didn't *do* fake ones.  She pulled it completely off and stuck it to
the mirror.  There, much better.  It had itched terribly. 

Scarlet popped her head into the dressing room.  "Miss, is everything
alright?  Would you like something else to try on?" 

"No thank you.  This is perfect.  I'll take this, along with the spandex
mini mini, the leather halter, the boots, the fishnet blouse. . ."  She
surveyed her choices.  They were all wonderful and he'd love them so,
especially the high heels with the spurs.  But there was really only one
way to make him happy.  "Oh, I'll take everything.  Just give me a few
minutes to get dressed." 

"Honey, if you like them so much, don't get dressed.  Leave the old you
behind.  I just need to know your name.  Miss - ?" 

Leave the old you behind?  The idea suited Jamie just fine.  "Vetter. 
Tracy Vetter."  Jamie/Tracy gathered up her new clothes and left the
dressing room, humming the tune to "Calling Dr. Love"