Work Text:
I
Quitting phasing is easy, compared to the mess of what comes next:
Processing your emotions, lest you unpredictably burst into fur in the middle of a Kroger.
Realising you kind of have to wear bras now, given that nudity is no longer an option, meaning you have to deal with the confusion of sizing and shopping and pushy salespeople that thrust armfuls of skimpy lace in your direction.
Coming to terms with your body for what it does now, and not what it has been; accepting that, despite what you have been through, what you have endured, you will never truly be a woman, not in the way that you’ve silently wished for years and years.
You know that you will never cruise through the personal hygiene aisle, perusing a sea of brightly coloured packages adorned with flowers and swirls and washes of pink.
You know that you will never be able to fill in forms at the clinic truthfully; you will always be trapped in a performance of scrawling some random date for your last cycle, continuing the charade that you are, in all senses of the word, a woman.
And, despite how much you’d like to ignore it, you know that you will never be one to carry a part of your soul in your womb, giving a share of your strength to something entirely new and pure and yours.
It will never be you.
II
Days later, you celebrate the first day of spring with Quil as usual, making your way to the tide pools on two legs instead of four. He can sense that you’re moody, judging by the way he keeps his mouth sealed shut as you walk, intermittently making asides about the weather and some new movie he’s seen, as if he rebalance the universe with inane commentary.
You trudge along beside him in your new two-piece suit from Victoria’s Secret, some turquoise-blue frilly costume that you’d been pressured into buying by the smiley salesgirl. In all fairness, she wasn’t lying - you do look great in it, and it really does do wonders for your chest, what little you have left after phasing stole your form.
Unsurprisingly, it’s hard to feel sexy when it feels as if a part of you will always be missing, as if you will always be some defective, incomplete freak of nature.
Quil reaches down to squeeze your hand, grinning when you weave your fingers between his.
“Cannonball?” he asks, dropping his towel and shoes on the banks, and you can’t help but laugh.
“Let’s do it,” you say, allowing him to tug you forward until you’re flying, falling, tumbling into the crystal-clear waters.
Quil makes it easy to forget.
III
You float on your back for a while, closing your eyes to the harsh glare of the midday sun. Your back aches like you wouldn’t believe, and the icy waters are working wonders on your strained muscles. Out here, away from the rest of the world, it’s easy to feel almost normal, albeit uncomfortable. You don’t even need to speak the words aloud - Quil gets you, you’ve realised, more than anyone else in your life ever will, and the ease of his comfort is unparalleled. You’ve shared a mind, transfusing thoughts and dreams and energy back and forth for what feels like a lifetime, and even without the link, he still seems to know what’s playing on your brain.
It’s nice.
The sun beams down on your browned face, surely forming more freckles across the bridge of your nose, and it’s a perfect pocket of peace. You want to bottle it up, this feeling of tranquillity, to keep it forever -
“Lee,” Quil breathes, worry etched into his tone. “What is that?”
Your eyes lazily drift open as you roll over, forcing your sprawling legs to tread water. “What?” you ask, a little irritated. “I was enjoying that.”
He blinks at you, mouth pressed into a thin line, and a pang of concern shoots through you. Quil nods at the water in front of you, and when you look down, you see it.
The clear blue water is tinged red, clouded with dark swirls that seem to chase you as you jerk away, startled. When your hand slips low, testing, raising the murkiness towards the surface, it all becomes clear.
You’re bleeding.
IV
Quil closes the bathroom door after handing you a towel and a pair of his sweatpants, giving you his best reassuring nod. “I’ll be out here. Take as long as you need.”
And you do, huddling under the warm spray until the droplets of water ricochet off of your skin like needles, stinging your flesh. You know you can only avoid it for so long, dealing with the sudden change, but part of you wants to pretend it isn’t happening.
This was never meant to be an option, just like phasing wasn’t supposed to happen, and yet, it is, and you’re just as lost and confused and scared as you were the day your father died.
A sudden knock on the door makes you jump, and the sudden motion sends a shampoo bottle falling to the tiled floor, the clatter echoing like a gunshot.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice a little higher than normal. “It’s been a while.”
Your tongue feels like it’s swollen to triple the size, trapping the words in your mouth.
A moment passes.
“Can I...can I come in?” Quil questions, his voice a little closer. “Tell me what you need.”
Silently, you reach out of the shower stall, dripping tiny spots of water onto the bathmat, until you can grasp the doorknob, twisting it until the door swings open. He slips into the room a moment later, pressing the door shut with a click.
Once, many months ago, you’d wondered if you were making a mistake, letting Quil into your life, into your bed. He’s brash, and irritating, and has a way of unintentionally making your secrets known to the entire Reservation before breakfast time. His childishness grates on you, and you hate the way he always leaves at least one sock under your bed when he stays over, but you can’t seem to turn him away, not when every second spent with him feels like coming home.
Quil plucks a fresh washcloth from the vanity, dampening it under the spray as he steps inside. His fingers trace a soothing path along your nape, making it that much easier for you to say yes to the unspoken question in his dark eyes.
The first pass of the cloth against your skin makes you jolt from the sudden touch, from the uncomfortable intimacy of the moment, but with the second and the third and the fourth swipe, it gets easier. He presses a soft kiss to your shoulder as he continues his ministrations, cleaning the dried blood from the insides of your thighs until your skin is clean and fresh and cleansed anew.
He runs his fingers across your hipbone as he rinses the rest of the salt from your skin, your hair, calming you with gentle touches until you’re on the precipice of sleep, dozing off in his shower, in his arms.
Quil spins the faucet until the water slows to a soft trickle, wrapping a towel around your shoulders. “I found some stuff in Mom’s bathroom,” he murmurs, gesturing to the counter. “Take what you need.”
You do.
V
Later, when you are curled up in Quil’s bed, tucked under his still-blazing arm, you find the courage to speak. Maybe it’s shame that keeps you silent, or fear, but it’s difficult to squeeze the words out, and they slide through your lips in a whisper entirely unlike your usual voice.
“Does this make things...different?” you ask, staring fixedly at the stupid movie he’s put on his tiny bedroom TV.
“Huh?” he murmurs sleepily, sitting up so he can see you properly in the dim light. “What’s different?”
“Me,” you whisper, closing your eyes. “Everything. It’s all different.”
He hums, thoughtful. “Yeah. It’s been a big day.”
Maybe you’re imagining it, or maybe you’re right, that he’s squeezing you a little tighter, pressing his skin against yours in the way that he knows brings you comfort.
“It doesn’t change anything for me,” he murmurs into the darkness. “You were Leah before, and you’re still Leah, just with extra blood. That’s kind of badass.”
“You’re an idiot,” you scoff, but you feel a little lighter, a little more sure that the world isn’t ending - not yet, at least.
He doesn’t speak again until you’re right on the edge of sleep, moments away from tumbling into dreamland, but the words echo in your skull all the same.
“Maybe one day we’ll have our own little idiots.”
And maybe you will.
Because he is an option, and you have choices to make, freedoms that you never knew existed, and there’s a whole new world out there waiting for you.
But for now, you sleep, encased in his embrace, and it is enough.