Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The alarm blared in her ears as she slammed her fist into the snooze button. Waking up was always a bit tough for Bridget, and it never really got any easier. Groggy as can be, she tried to function as a normal human being. She remembered to take her estrogen and stumbled to the bathroom to begin her morning routine.

It always started with a shower. Nothing too complicated, just something that would work so that she wouldn’t smell bad while bounty hunting. However, she did take special care of her hair, since it was always in some sort of mess. Dandruff, split ends, you name it and Bridget’s hair has had to go through it.

Out of the piping hot shower and into the old atmosphere of the bathroom. Looking in the mirror she applied moisturizer. The slimy, cold sensation made her brain think there was a slug running amok in her face, but the result was soft skin, so it was a hell she could suffer through. A quick shave of arms and legs was also in order, so she did that as well, masterfully cutting hairs here and there.

Now came time for that day’s outfit. She generally liked all her outfits, but it was always a complicated matter to pick one.

-What about the sunflower dress?- she thought -It’s a nice, sort of semi-casual fit but not one made for more ample movement-. She sifted through her closet, thinking, debating.

-Well, there’s the stars shirt with the overalls. It provides a bit more freedom of movement but I don’t think I wanna stain it with blood if it comes down to that-
She had to go back to an old reliable: her usual hoodie outfit. Somehow it always ended like this.

Finally, breakfast. The smell of coffee and toast floated in the air, a hug of comfort before facing the day’s challenges. Roger, her teddy bear, was already awake, looking over the work laptop. He had some reading glasses on. They weren’t necessary, but it made him feel more business-like.

“Good Morning Roger!” She greeted warmly as she grabbed some coffee from the pot.

“Morning,” he said in his robotic voice.

“How’s it going?”

“All is well, only revising the electronic mail”

“Oh! Anything new?”

“There is a message from Ky. He asks of how your recovery process is going after the surgery”

“How sweet!”

“There is also a message from Dr. Faust, he also asks about the recovery process but also asks if you would like any touch-up surgeries”

“Should probably answer that”

“Some job offerings, mostly of the mercenary kind, some of the guarding kind”

“Ok, that’s routine”, at this point, she had gotten her toast as well as a cinnamon roll that had been left over.

“There is also a letter from your parents”

She choked on her coffee for a moment.

“Excuse me?”

“A letter, from your parents”

“What does it say?”

“It says the following:

“Dear Bridget,
We hope all is well in your adventures as a bounty hunter! Your instructors are probably quite proud with the reputation you’re building! Everybody seems to be referring to you still as a “She”, y’know you can drop the act and be a boy outside town right? Speaking of town, we’d like you to come over! Your twin has returned and he’s got all sorts of things to tell you! And well, you probably have a lot of things to tell us as well!
With all the love in the world,
Your parents
Arthur and Guinevere Hastings” “

Silence hung in the air, thick and seemingly unending. She had to respond, right? Otherwise they might think she was dead. But how the hell could she even respond? She couldn’t just say “Hey mom, hey dad, I am a girl! Hope that clears things up! :D” without any repercussions. Roger simply stared back at her, as if waiting for an answer.

“Hm, I’ll think of an answer sooner or later. I’ll just answer the other messages first” she answered, grabbing her laptop and getting to work.

She answered Ky, telling him that all was going well and that the recovery process had been a bit rough at first but it had gotten better little by little. She answered Faust, telling him that it was going well, and that she was satisfied with the bottom surgery he had provided, so no need for any touch-up surgeries. With every answered mail, the dreaded message swam in her mind. Circling, getting closer and closer, ready to strike.

Inevitably, it came time to decide on a response. She sat in front of a blank message box, waiting for it to be filled. A blinking cursor, almost as if counting down the seconds before her fate was sealed. But, she finally decided on a simple message:

“Mom and dad,
I would love to come! I think I can go a week from now, how does that sound?
Love,
Bridget”
An almost immediate response followed:
“Yes! That sounds great son!
Love,
Your mom and dad”

“Son”. She couldn’t blame them, but it was still a heart-wrenching thing to experience. Could she ever be anything else other than a “son” to them? Could she ever be their daughter? Or would they cast her out like a disgusting creature, a monster they would not wish to be associated with?

That’s…how she felt sometimes. It felt less so now after the whole transition stuff, but it still crept up on her. Late at night, staring at the ceiling, feeling like a crude creature, unfinished by the saints, or the Gears, or whoever began the world as she knew it. Like she was a mistake and something was wrong with her.
But now was not the time for thoughts like these. No, it was time to prepare herself for a journey into hell.
She got up from her desk, and began to pack her pink bags.

Chapter Text

Bridget packed all kinds of things into her suitcase. There were some necessary things, like clothes and deodorant, but also some “unnecessary” things like some stuffed animals. Surprisingly, it all fit into just a couple bags.

All the while, she thought about all the outcomes that could happen when she got there. She hadn’t heard from her parents in quite a bit, maybe some things had changed. Perhaps the town had become less superstitious about the whole “two twins born male will bring doom” thing. Maybe there would be more open-minded-ness. God, she hadn’t even thought about her twin. How was he now? Would that cause some dysphoria? Seeing herself like she was before? Probably not, but the thought still lingered there.

While finishing up packing, she found an old picture. It was of her family in the middle of a picnic. It had been one of the rare days there was a sunny day in England. A perfect chance to freeze the moment in a snapshot. By no means it was a perfect picture, it was a little moved and you could see her twin mid-blink, but it still meant a lot to her. She packed it with the rest of her things. Maybe for nostalgia or to psych herself up, but she felt she might want it for her trip.

With most things packed, it was now time for the next step: actually finding several connections to get to the little town of Wensleydale. After some digging, she found a plane to get there, and then two connecting trains, and finally, one coach ride from her parents. A mundane process, but it felt like she was planning her own execution.

But why? They were her parents, they loved her, right? And they would continue to love her no matter what, right? But memories ran through her head of things people had told her.

A karaoke night, to be specific. Things had gone quite wild and intense, but she didn’t remember much of it, except a conversation she had that stuck with her.
“Yeah my parents tried to kill me when they found out” Zato had said before downing a shot of whiskey, “Nearly chopped my head off, deadnaming me, all sorts of shit I don’t even wanna mention”

“Tell me about it” slurred Baiken before drinking a bit more of her beer “Told people and every now and then someone tried to kill me! Just cause I said I don’t like the genders! None of ‘em! No sirree!”

But would they react in such a way? With violence? Her noble family that lived in polite society? She kept thinking and remembered that time with the werewolf.

It had been a dark and stormy night, a stereotypical night where people get murdered. She had stayed up all night reading a Jane Austen novel underneath candle light in the main living room. A knock was heard at the door.

None of the servants were awake, or at least none that she knew about. So she went up and opened the door. Upon the steps was a massive bleeding wet wolf, riddled with all sorts of injuries. Taking mercy upon the creature, she took it in and cured what she could of its wounds. Even going as far as making some hearty pumpkin soup to warm it’s soul.

This was cut short by a scream of bloody murder. Turning around, she saw her distressed mother with a terrified expression.

“Arthur! Help! There’s a werewolf in the kitchen!” she shouted “It’s got Bridget!”

Hurried steps were heard from upstairs.

“Mom, what are you talking about? It’s quite alright he doesn’t seem harmful-”

“I think I must leave,” said the wolf, “I am uninvited here and your mother seems to be distressed by my very presence. Thank you for helping me, little one”
With awed expressions they saw the werewolf leave and the father arrive with a hunting rifle, ready to take aim. Would he point that very same rifle at her?

She pushed the thought and the memories away as she felt a tug on her sleeve that returned her to Earth. Turning around, she saw Roger holding up the laptop.

“Are you ready to accept a bounty?” he asked.

“Isn’t it a bit early to accept a bounty?” she said, looking at the time “I mean it’s only- 12 PM?!”

She had spent the entire morning planning and worrying about this trip.

Picking up the device, she looked at the different jobs “Yeah…let’s see here”

Theft, or well a heist, was a common job, but it was hard and time-consuming. Assassination? Short and sweet but could indeed get messy. Kidnapping? Also could get messy. Then she had it: package delivery.

The particular posting stated that she simply had to take care of a package for 12 hours until the receiver went and obtained it. She accepted the job, and a couple of hours later she was waiting in a dingy bat with a suitcase underneath her seat.

“What do you think of this?” she asked Roger.

“Hopefully not nuclear codes”

“Yeah, I mean I hope it isn’t that either, but what do you want it to be?”

“Hmm” he thought about it, “I hope it’s a special edition of a book”

“Weird, but I like it!”

“What do you want it to be?”

“Well, probably more stuffed animals”

And so, they waited. She practiced her yo-yo tricks, played patty cake Roger and checked her phone for messages. Eventually, a bulky figure, 8ft tall and with their hood up, walked up towards Bridget looking down.

The figure simply said: “You got the package?”

“Yes, right here” she said, patting the suitcase.

The figure froze in place. They looked up at her, revealing a metallic mask.

“Bridget?” it asked.

That made her pause. She knew that voice. She’d heard it a million times growing up. The voice that mocked her, that made fun of her, but also was there for her in her darkest moments. The voice she thought she’d never hear from again. The voice that was supposedly staying at her parents’ home.

“Oisin?” she asked, finally recognizing her brother’s voice.

Chapter Text

“So, how have things been?” she asked. They had sat down, now with drinks in hand. The bar itself had grown a bit louder, being able to hide their conversation from others but they could still hear each other.

“They’ve been…odd I won’t lie, how about you? You seem a bit different” he responded.

“You could say that, do you wanna start or should I?” she asked, sitting Roger beside her.

“Yeah, I’ll try to explain,” he took in a deep breath, “See, all those years ago, when you left, I started to miss you, and despite the great training you’d had I didn’t want my brother to fend for himself all alone. So, I searched and I searched, got into some deep shit, technically died in a street, and then my soul got put into a machine. That machine being this body of course. And, that’s mostly it. Right now I’m staying back at our parents’ place for a bit, you even said that you’re gonna come in a week, right?”

“That’s right! Also, what’s in the suitcase?”

“Oh, it’s fine china, I wanted mom to get something special for her birthday. What about you? Are you getting her anything?”

Bridget paused.

“Fuck”

“You forgot didn’t you?”

“Yes, yes I did”

A roaring laughter came out of the metallic husk.

“It’s been a couple years! Of course I forgot the exact date!”

“Sorry sorry! It’s just a little funny! It reminds me of when we were kids and you always forgot her birthday so you had to scramble to find her a gift!”

“This time it’s different! I have a little more time so I can buy her a good gift!”

“Heh, sure” he took a sip of his mojito, “what about you lil guy? What’ve you been up to?”

“Well, I’m not your lil guy anymore”

“Oh?” he asked, sounding a little concerned.

“I’m your lil gal now, or lil sis? I don’t know, we can figure that out” she cleared up a little nervously.

“Oh!” he said, less concerned now, “That’s quite a big change! Are you happier? Did you start HRT? Do you need new clothes? Shit sorry if it’s a lot of questions, take your time but also don’t answer some questions if you don’t want to!”

“When did you learn about all this stuff?” Bridget asked, confused at her twin’s sudden knowledge of all these things.

“Well, you meet all sorts of folks along the road and all kinds of different ways of living, so I learned a bit of everything”

“Ohhh, that…makes sense, weirdly enough. To answer your questions: yes, I’m definitely happier, yes I have started HRT, and no I don’t need new clothes I’ve already got them”

“That’s good to hear! Do you have a new name now then?”

“Not really, still Bridget, still myself”

There was a bit of awkward silence. It was that awkward kind of silence of reuniting with someone after quite some time. Reuniting with someone you thought you probably would never have to interact with again. Yet here you are, interacting with them and trying to find some common ground to speak about.

She took a gamble, “ Hey, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure”

“Do you think our parents will freak out about, y’know, transitioning and stuff?”

“I don’t think so. I mean, they were still friendly to me despite me turning into this”

“I get what you mean but this is a lil different”

“How so?”

“You changed accidentally, and you’re still a guy, but I’ve undergone a lot of things willingly just to not be seen as a"guy "."

“They’re still your parents. Our parents! I don’t think they would cast you away so easily”

“But I’m still scared! You know, weren’t you scared when they first saw you for a long time? Didn’t you feel like maybe they would only see you for your changes and not you? That perhaps they’d look at you and think “Where did I go wrong? What failure on my part led to you being the ugly creature that you are?” ”

Silence fell on the table. Though his eyes could not emote, sadness radiated off of him.

“Mom screamed the first time she saw me”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. She didn’t know it was me at first of course, she thought I was some kind of mercenary or a criminal. But after explaining to the both of them, they welcomed me with open arms”

“I’m sorry to hear that”

“It’s alright, you didn’t know about it. I will say that the following weeks were still full of awkward conversations, but eventually they got used to me being…me.”

“You think that’ll happen to me?”

“Maybe”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe better, maybe worse” he took another sip of his mojito.

She looked into her own Daiquiri. It was her reflection, confused, filled with dread, but still somewhat hopeful. Her shoulder felt the weight of her brother’s gauntlet.

“No matter what happens, if they’re accepting or not, I’ll be here for whatever you need” he reassured.

He went in for a hug, and she accepted it.

“Thank you” she managed to say, despite the tears that were rolling down her face.

Chapter Text

After a couple of tears and tissues later, Oisin looked at his sister and asked: “Hey, do you want to go buy mum a gift to take your mind off of things?”

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound too bad,” she answered, grabbing her things. They paid their tab and they were off. The hot summer day shone down on them as they searched for a place to buy some neat things. It was also a good chance to tell Oisin some American things that were different from where they grew up.

“And there’s just fields upon fields of corn?”

“Yeah!” she said nodding.

“And is there anything to do besides corn?”

“Not a lot to be honest”

“Huh, that sounds boring”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t recommend Iowa to anybody” she said looking around, “there it is!”

She pointed to the mall they had been looking for on their phone’s GPS. It wasn’t too big, only two stories tall, but it's glamorous sign that read “Springfield Mall '' seemed to try to elevate the mall to a higher level. Needless to say, it did not.

Entering the building, there were many little shops here and there. A bookstore, perfume shop, a CVS, and of course the food court, full of fast food. Inspecting the place better, they found a little jewelry store hidden away in a corner. She headed inside while he kept walking around to see if there was a place that had better gift options.

It was all glitz and glamor inside. A store that made you feel like every single item was worth your year’s worth of salary. Not only that but the person behind the counter was also fancy, with a three piece suit and a monocle. How all of this was inside a store in a small mall was beyond Bridget, but she wasn’t one to question strange things happening.

“May I help you with anything ma’am?” the clerk asked.

“Not right now! But thank you for asking!”

All sorts of jewelry was on display. The more elaborate pieces were there but the simple ones were also quite sleek. So many choices, so many options, so many ways to ruin a mother’s birthday. She turned back to the clerk.

“Can I ask you for help?”

“Of course. What was it you were looking for?”

“I was looking for something nice for my mother’s birthday. Something that could, well, forgive me for things I might or might have not done. Something that screams “nooo i didn’t forget your birthday!”, is there something like that?”

The assistant thought for a second and went to the back. They came back with a golden necklace. It had a heart locket and within it was filled with forget-me-nots encased in resin.

“It might not look like much but it also has a wonderful smell”

“Really”

“Yes, smell for yourself”

She took a step closer and took a sniff. It was this wonderful citrus-y smell combined with slight hints of lavender.

“Oh wow that’s lovely!”

“I told you, does this fit your description?”

“Absolutely! How much is it?”

The clerk said an obscene price that I cannot put into words.

“Oh lord, that’s ridiculous, but I’ll take it”

So she bought the necklace. While in the process of paying for it, the teller asked another question: “would you like to write a personalized note?”
“Hm, could you give me the paper and I write the note later?”

“Of course”

She took the little bag and wrote the note to her mother. Wishing her mother a happy birthday, as well as telling her some other things. Hopefully, she’d understand. Or at least Bridget hoped so.

Chapter Text

Oisin looked as if deep in thought. He simply stared and stared at a couple of mannequins in the store front of a clothing store. The dresses didn’t seem like his style so she approached him.

“Why are you looking at dresses?” Bridget asked.

“Dresses?” he seemed to refocus and realize what he was doing, “Oh, sorry, was it creepy to do that?”

“Not necessarily, depending on what you were doing”

“I was just looking at my reflection”

She looked back at the display. He was right, the glass was so pristine that you could use it as a mirror.

“Can I ask you why?”

“Yes, it’s alright, I just can’t believe that the person in my reflection is me”

“In a good way or a bad way?” she asked tentatively.

“In a I-can’t believe-how-much-change-I’ve-gone-through way”

“Do you like your reflection?” she asked, hoping the question wouldn’t be too awkward.

“It’s…complicated. At first I was horrified, I thought that I was a monster. I didn’t look in the mirror, I hid away from friends and society at large. It took a very long time, a lot of thinking, and a lot of stress-filled nights but I eventually started to embrace what I am. I realized that I was still me, but in a different shell. Rather than mourning who I once was, I started appreciating who I became.”

“Do you still miss your old body?”

“Sometimes I do, I won’t lie, but it’s less often now in comparison to what it was years ago.”

He shifted his head back to look back at his sister.

“What about you? Do you like your reflection?”

“Yeah, I do!” she smiled, looking at herself “Worked really hard for it too!”

He chuckled at the comment, proud of his sister.

“Did you find something at the shop?” Oisin asked.

“Yeah! I found this really neat necklace!” she took it out for a moment, showing it to him.

“Ah, that looks nice!”

“Sir, ma’am, sorry to bother both of you but y’all should leave because you seem to me blocking people’s view of the goods”

They both turned to see who had spoken to them and saw one of the store workers had stepped out. Turning around they also realized the small crowd of people that were trying to see what was in the storefront but couldn’t, due to Oisin’s large wall-like body.

“Oop, sorry!” Bridget apologized, starting to walk off with her brother.

They both walked out of the mall, having acquired the gift plus a couple of knick-knacks. Now, they only needed to pack their bags for the trip. Or well, Bridged had everything prepared, she just needed help Oisin with his things.

Across the Atlantic Sea, in an island, in the town of Wensleydale, sat Guinevere Hastings in her study. The room was an organized mess. It was full of bits and baubles from her travels and her husband’s travels, but they were organized in their own little sections, such that she could go and find instantly what she was looking for. But for anyone else attempting to search for something, they would’ve found themselves in a world of confusion.

Guinevere was at her desktop, organizing some old photos she had been able to digitalize. Every single one was an open door to a memory she thought she had forgotten.

There was a photo of her and Arthur on their wedding day. Truly it had been one of the most stressful but one of the most wonderful days she’d ever had. One moment she and her husband were trying to accommodate everyone inside the chapel after the sudden burst of rain had surprised them, the other she was crying tears of joy when they had finally said their vows.

There were also photos of her childhood and her adolescence. An adventurous couple of years to put it lightly. Despite being a lady of high society, she knew how to party and she knew to fence, a combination that would lead to some interesting stories. Like the time she’d dueled a couple of gentlemen after she had argued with one of them that Agatha Christie was better than Edgar Allan Poe. A debate that she had with these men even to this very day through electronic mail. At this point she didn’t even care if she was right, it was simply funny to see them be mad about such a small thing. She knew it was childish but sometimes one just had to make their own fun.

And then there were the photos of their sons. She looked at these with all the fondness in the world. A bunch of memories jumped out at her like old friends one hasn't seen in quite a while.

There were the museum visits that the two munchkins hated, except for the dinosaur exhibit, which they awed at and asked for a million pictures with the skeletons. There were Christmases too. Seasons full of traditions such as chestnut-roasting, listening to old Christmas records and keeping up the charade of Father Christmas's existence. It was always wonderful to see the twinkle in their eyes when they got the gift they desired. Despite the bitter cold, those memories lay warm in her heart.

What did not lie warm in her heart was the memory of when she had screamed at the first sight of Oisin. She didn't know it was him at the time, but she still felt terrible for making him feel unwelcome and unloved. It was the opposite of what a mother was supposed to do yet she had done it.

Then she thought of her other son: Bridget. How had he changed during all these years? Had he too, changed so drastically like Oisin? Either way, she was excited to see him again! How much catching up she had to do!

Re-focusing on the task at hand, she wondered where that pesky sunny picnic picture had gone.

Chapter Text

It was 3 A.M. She simply knew it. There was a certain quiet to everything that only happens at 3 AM. Not complete silence, mind you, but where everything seems slightly louder than it should. The partying of some drunken folks on the streets outside, the scratches from a dog on the floor above, even her heartbeat seemed like a drum of its own accord.

She should have gone to bed. She shouldn’t have stayed awake, looking at the ceiling, thinking too much. Thinking about that bounty hunter. Met her in the middle of the road, asked for directions and left. Not much of an interaction, but it had stuck with Bridget. Of course, at the time, she didn’t know the feeling was slight jealousy.

Jealousy of what? Well, everything, if she was being honest with herself. Perhaps it was her voice. It sounded natural. It didn’t sound like someone trying to do a feminine voice, it just sounded…normal. Her looks were also natural, sort of. Not exactly “natural” per se, but the make up on her looked like she knew what she was doing. Like tools in a workshop, she knew what every tincture and powder would work for what situation and how it would affect her. She wasn’t a supermodel, or a bodybuilder, or anything like that, she was simply a bounty hunter on a job. Yet she had everything Bridget wished for.

She sat up in the bed, looking at the edge of it. The dingy motel room didn’t inspire much faith in her. So she went to the bathroom to take care of business, and when she was washing her hands, she unfortunately looked in the mirror. To say the least, she looked like shit.

Her hair was messy, sunken face and there was that weird gunk that sometimes forms around the eyes. But the worst offender was her facial hair. A hydra that would regrow no matter how many times she cut it. The little cuts in her neck would always remind her of the failures of her shaves. The spiral went on. Her face seemed too square, her arms had hair, and she didn’t want to think about down there. The spiral became a pit. She would never be able to look like that bounty hunter. She would never be able to look like a woman, or sound like one, not even wear makeup like one. Before she knew it, she was on the bathroom floor, crying.

Something hugged her. She turned to see. It was Roger, simply hugging. No questions, no judgment, just support. Hugging back, she kept crying, until the waterworks were dry.

She was awoken by the sudden movement of her shoulder. Oisin was trying to shake her awake. The reality of the itty-bitty airplane seat set in as she tried stretching her extremities. There was also the fact that some people were looking at her, although she was getting used to awkward staredowns from older folk.

“Oh thank god” he said with a sigh of relief, “Thought you were having a seizure or something”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, puzzled.

“You were sleep-talking, or well, sleep-shouting it seems”

“Oh dear god, did I say anything weird?”

“Not exactly, but you did make everyone concerned by suddenly shouting”

She looked back at the couple of people looking at her, doing her best attempt of a “god I’m sorry face”.

“So how long until we reach the UK?” she asked, shifting back towards her brother.

“Around 5 more hours”

“Oh dear lord”

“I know, it’s a bit of a trip, but I did bring some cards,” he said, taking out a pack of playing cards.

“And you expect us to play cards for the next 5 hours?” Bridget asked sarcastically. They ended up playing cards (with Roger as well) for the next 4 and a half hours, with one-hundred rules debates, betting with high stakes and three-hundred-and-four different insults hurled at each other. It ended when a flight attendant firmly told them to stop fighting.

From the plane they continued their journey on the first train, a high-speed modern wonder. A relatively smooth ride, despite the pressure that popped their ears when they passed through tunnels. Well, it only bothered Bridget but Oisin and Roger pretended to be affected so as to not leave her alone in her pain.

The second train, however, was a bit of a bumpier ride. It was an old steam locomotive, one of the couple that still remained, that traveled to the less-visited towns in the countryside. A 6-hour ride that was filled with turns, bumps and pit stops to make sure the old metal machinery was working fine.

In the middle of this never-ending journey, Oisin’s phone rang. He picked it up, the deceive looking minute in his hand.

“Hello, this is Oisin Hastings, how can I help you?”

A voice responded but Bridget couldn’t figure out the words.

“Oh hi mum! How’s it going?”

Her brother began to talk and tell their mom about their voyage there. With that, she tried to slink away to give him some space and avoid talking to her mother.

“Oh Bridget? Yeah…” his voice trailed off as he saw her signing hand signals to not snitch on her presence.

“Yeah let me pass you over” he said, giving a stare that said “face your damn fears”.

She responded with a “I’ll kill you” stare as she picked up the phone.

“Hello?” her mother’s familiar voice rang from the other side.

“Hii” she said a bit nervously.

“Oh hello my dear! How is it going? Is the trip going alright?”

“Yeah mum it’s going alright! A bit tired but besides that it’s going alright”

“Glad to hear that! It’s so great to hear from you again! I also hear you’ve maintained your voice training love but it’s not necessary if you don’t wanna use it anymore, the town’s less superstitious now!”

Bridget wanted to kill herself a little, but she was able to produce a response in a timely manner: “It’s alright, I like how my voice sounds”

“Ah…ok” a silence filled the call, a very awkward silence. The mother filled with a sense that she said the wrong thing and the daughter filled with dread about the prospect of revealing her true self.

“See you here then?” her mother continued, trying to be polite.

“Yeah! See you there!” she said, passing the phone back to Oisin, palms sweaty and nervousness in her breath.

Her brother continued the call and finally hung up.

“You alright?” he asked.

“You put me on the spot!” she yelled.

“You’re going to have to face her eventually!”

“Yes but I want it to be on my own terms you dunghead!”

“Sorry! I thought it was going to be easier to start with just audio!”

“I meant, it did help a little, BUT YOU SHOULD’VE WARNED ME FIRST”

“You’re right, I’ll promise to not do anything like that again with no warning”

“Pink promise?” she asked, holding out her pinky.

“Pinky promise” he answered as he gently his own pinky and gently shaked it with hers.

Chapter Text

Guinevere hung the old phone in its place and sat in the library, staring at the middle distance. Arthur, her sharply dressed husband, noticed this and asked:

“Is everything alright dear?”

“Do you think we raised our children correctly?”

“I think so, why do you ask?”

“I feel as though I've failed them”

“Why do you think that?” He inquired, sitting down next to her on the wonderful sofa that sat in the middle of the library.

“Well, it’s simply that I see Oisin and wonder if he lives alright. I mean, he’s far too large for most common doors and he doesn’t seem to have a very stable job. I might even offer him to stay a bit longer so he can figure out what to do. And now I hear that Bridget has maintained his voice training despite being out of town, so, has he too fallen into an existence of perhaps being outcast? Of not having a stable job despite the reputation he’s built as a good bounty hunter? Does he wonder whether he’ll eat today, tomorrow or next week?”

Arthur let the words seep into his consciousness. One could always tell the cogs in his mind were really turning. First he always played with his salt and pepper mustache, then he seemed to hum without any real rhyme or reason, perhaps almost scatting before finally he combined these strange sounds with some light slapping and tapping his legs, using them as percussion.

His wife, accustomed to this odd ritual simply asked:

“What is it you have in mind?”

“Well, I was thinking, what if we tested them?”

“Tested them? How so?”

“You say we might’ve failed as parents, setting our children to a life of misery. So let’s see how they’re doing, investigate a bit about their lives and interrogate them to see if the situations is better, worse or exactly how we imagined it”

“That’s… not a terrible idea”

“What do you say then?”

“Let’s do it, but under one condition” she looked at Arthur intensely “We must do it without them knowing. If they find out they'll try to look as good as possible so we don’t worry”

“How do you know they’ll do that?”

“A mother knows her kids, you should know that” she responded “And my children are some of the most stubborn people on this planet”
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Despite all the circumstances, the old locomotive arrived on time and Bridget and Oisin had finally returned to their hometown of Wensleydale. It was as they once remembered. The local famous bakery stood with its old wooden sign and the tell-tale smell of fresh bread. There was their old school, a place full of memories, both good and bad. There even was still the old park the town was founded upon. It was a bit creepy, like the face of an unchanging, unageing statue. The only new thing was a Lidl.

So, they decided to go there, since neither had visited it. An unremarkable place really, it looked like most Lidls, with its shopping carts requiring a coin to release it and the bakery section where a machine could chop you up a loaf of bread (or anything if you are brave enough).

The only thing that perhaps was of note were the stares Bridget and Oisin were getting. They were slightly different but they had the same tone of “something strange is happening here”. Oisin was getting stares of “what the heck is that?” while Bridget was getting stares of people trying to remember where they had seen her before.

“I think we should leave,” Oisin whispered.

“Agreed” Bridget said returning the chocolates she was looking at, “I feel like a lab rat”

“Constantly being experimented on?”

“No, constantly being observed”

“Excuse me” a voice said from behind them.

They both turned to see who had spoken.

An old woman stood there, gray hair and glasses with an eyeglasses leash, and a prominent crow’s feet as well as smile lines from a life full of laughter.

“Miss Haversham!” both siblings exclaimed as she simply laughed.

“Yes, ‘tis me, I tried finding both of you at the train station but it seems you got distracted”

“Right, sorry about that!” Bridget said, a bit embarrassed, “Wait, is our mother still employing you?”

“Well, technically no,” the old housekeeper explained, “but Miss Guinevere has let me stay at her abode as well as help the new housekeeper. And well, when I heard that my favorite little boys were coming around I simply had to come and pick you up!”

“Yes! Of course of course!” Oisin said, following her lead.

Bridget, meanwhile, was trying to calculate a conundrum. Miss Haversham had just referred to the both of them as “boys”. She had two choices: A) correct her and explain the situation, or B) not correct her and keep getting misgendered. There were different risks with both options of course. With A), there was the possibility that Miss Haversham would be disgusted by her or that she would accidentally tell her mother. With B), it would have to be wrongly gendered but also possibly have growing suspicion from the old housekeeper about her keeping what her family would call a “disguise” to not provoke the town’s superstition, even though she had already left that town. In her hands was that choice and those possible consequences. She decided it was a risk she had to take, she needed to be herself, for she would not live her life in the shell of her past.

“Miss” Bridget shyly spoke, “this is all wonderful and all but do you mind if I speak to you outside for a moment?”

“Of course yes,” Miss Haversham said, “will you excuse us Oisin?”

“Yes! Do so at your own pleasure” Oisin responded. He then looked at Bridget, asking with a single look that said “are you sure?”

She answered with a look that said “Yes, I’m quite sure”. With that, both ladies left the little Lidl.

“So, what did you want to speak about?” the old lady inquired, standing on the cobblestone sidewalk.

“Well, I simply wanted to politely correct you. I wanted to tell you that I am no longer a boy”

“Oh! Of course, you are a man now, sorry about that, you two will always be my little boys at heart”

“That is not technically correct either”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m a lass, Miss Haversham”

The old lady paused. Bridget feared the worst.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Be a lass? Or change from a lad to a lass?”

“Change from a lad to a lass. I mean, it sounds a bit complicated, don’t it? Besides, what if it’s temporary?”

“Miss, I understand your concern, I really do. I feared that too in the beginning. But you must understand something, for my whole life, or at least part of it, I’ve felt as if I’ve been given a borrowed body. A body that is not mine but one I must live with. And for a good bit of it I felt uncomfortable at home, something about being referred to as a son did not sit right in my stomach. But when I was out there “pretending” to be a daughter, I felt like myself, not a borrowed body, but a body of my own. When I went out into the world, thinking I was free of “pretending”, I felt very odd correcting people, saying I was a “boy”. And that feeling of being alien in my own bones returned for a bit. But, little by little, I discovered myself out there and realized who I was, perhaps who’d I always been. I’m doing an oversimplification of course, I’m skipping over the tears and the depressing bits but what I’m trying to say here is that I’m happy, I feel like I’m truly myself and I’m still the person you know despite the changes in labels”

Another pause, this one longer, lingered between the ladies. Bridget braced for impact as Miss Haversham spoke once again:

“I don’t know if I understand what you speak of, however, I can see something different in your eyes. You seem lighter, as if a burden has been lifted. I may not understand you completely, and I am still a bit perplexed I won’t lie, but I do know that I love you. And someone that loves someone tries to understand them. So, please forgive me as I try to understand you better, but know that this does not change the way I love you, you understand that love?”

Bridget breathed a sigh of relief.

“Yes, I understand”

“Just one question”

“Yes?”

“Does your father and mother know?”

“No, not at all”

“Oh dear”

“Yes, it’ll be complicated”

“I wish you the best of luck then” she said with a caring pat on the back.

Bridget was reminded once again of the task she had ahead of her, but she felt a little lighter with that small gesture.

Chapter Text

The horses clip-clopped through the town as Bridget mentally prepared to reunite with her parents. The carriage was a good place to think all things considered. Her brother and Miss Haversham were having idle chit chatter and didn't really focus on Bridget having a slight disconnect with reality.

How could she face them again? After all these years? First, there was the fact that she had been looking for her brother but ended up being a Bounty Hunter. Then, there was the fact that, well, she was no longer a boy. No longer their son. But she had to think step-by-step. She couldn’t think about all the revelations at once. Perhaps she could explain that it had been a tough couple of years but that now she finally found her brother despite the cold trail. Maybe throw in many apologies just in case.

Then there was the gender issue. Well, it wasn’t an issue to her, but it might’ve been an issue for her parents. In this matter she thought of the old phrase “divide and conquer”. She could tell her parents separately, rather than together. She could perhaps convince one of them, and if the other rejected her then the rejection wouldn’t be as hard. It would probably result in a couple of awkward Christmases and other holidays, but it was the best she could take right now.

-God- she thought -Am I really thinking this like a military strategy? Thinking of pros and cons and trying to see what the best option is? To cut my losses and have some sort of victory? They’re my parents for goodness’ sake! I shouldn’t have to think this hard about it! –

But she unfortunately did. Her parents were a special kind of people. They always wanted what’s best for their kids but that sometimes involved them doing some strange things to do it. For example, when she was a kid, she had to learn her multiplication tables, this involved multiple days where she would not be able to eat teatime because she could not say from memory the table she was supposed to learn. She didn’t have tea for a straight week when she couldn’t remember the 7’s table.

If they did that for multiplication tables, she didn’t want to test the limits of their want for success.
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Guinevere sat in the garden, thinking as well. How could she “test” her children? She had ideas, but she didn’t want to be too cruel, like the teatime multiplication tables debacle. It had been Arthur’s idea but the memories of poor Bridget just standing by the window, looking at all the sweets but not being able to eat them. The poor lad.

No, these had to be sneakier tests. They had to be covert. They had to be undetectable. So, she thought she could first research her offspring. Anything and everything that she found would be valuable, no matter how big or small the information. She wasn’t the biggest expert on social media, but she found some interesting developments. Or well, un-developments, if you will. She could not find any social media for either Bridget or Oisin. This could either mean that both had hidden their accounts from her or that they didn’t have any social media at all. The hearsay and stories that she heard of them were mostly through word-of-mouth by visitors coming to the town or in some fringe newspapers somewhere far far away.

-At least this means they’re still clever- she thought -They don’t want to be seen publicly, so that their possible targets are not alerted by their presence-

This was especially true for Oisin. It was an odd world they lived in, with the Gears causing many world-wide reverberations and multiple extinction events avoided, but there would be some attention directed at him if he were to simply post something on social media. A big metal man posting a simple picture of himself could elicit all sorts of reactions from the public eye.

But perhaps it was odder with Bridget. He always had a bit of a streak for the dramatic and always liked to share his experiences with others. So, when social media arrived, she had expected to see him somewhere being popular. But not a single trace of him. Nowhere, not even an eliminated account was under his name.

All in all, both had passed the first test. It wasn’t much of a test, but she could come up with better ways to see if their skills were still sharp. To see if her lessons had stuck or had they simply gone with the wind?

The doorbell rang, snapping her away from her thoughts. Her children had arrived.
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The doorbell still rang in her ears as she tried to gather courage. She felt Oisin’s metal hand on her shoulder. She looked up, a bit confused. He simply nodded. Did he know? Did he know that she was terrified? Or was it just general encouragement?

“I know you’re a bit nervous, but you can do this,” he said in a whisper.

“How did you know I was nervous?” she asked.

“You were trying to crack your fingers despite already cracking them”

She looked down and he was right. Her hands needed to constantly move around when she was thinking or trying to focus. Sometimes it was harmless but sometimes it ended up in sore fingers from trying to crack already cracked limbs.

“Oh, right,” she said, a bit embarrassed.

“It’s alright, I’ll be beside you for whatever you need”

“Thank you” she said with a smile, “And I’m here for you too, you seem nervous as well”

“How did you know?” he asked genuinely surprised.

“You’re talking more than normal”

“Is it that bad?”

“I thought you were going to run out of breath when talking with Miss Haversham! You mentioned the weather 3 times at the very least!”

“Hey!” he ribbed her lightly as she laughed.

“I see the brotherly love is still alive between you two”

The two siblings suddenly turned around as their mother was standing there with a big smile on her face.

Chapter Text

Her mother was as she had remembered. A woman with golden hair, caring eyes and a sense of style reminiscent of the Edwardian era. She always had a sense of balance and poise about her, as if she knew every step she was going to take for the rest of her life.

One thing that was different from the last time Bridget had seen her was her age. It seemed obvious now that she thought about it but her mom was older. She had slight crows feet around her eyes and an indescribable tiredness. Not of overwhelming work but that tiredness that comes with age. A sense that your energy levels keep dwindling and you don’t notice until you try to run or jump after a long time.

Escaping this vortex of thoughts, Bridget forced herself to smile and speak:

“Mom! Hi! It’s good to see you!”
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Guinevere looked at her son properly and a thousand questions popped into her mind. Has her son gotten laser hair removal on his face? Why had his face shape changed slightly? Why was he preferring to be a girl still? But, most importantly, why did he seem terrified?

He hid it pretty well, she had taught him a quite good poker face but something always gave him away. In this instance, it was the smile. It tried to be kind, friendly, and inviting. But the eyes didn’t lie. The eyes showed fear, a deer in headlights, afraid but unable to move. And that terror saddened her. It made her heart plunge to the coldest depths. That was the biggest question in her mind. Overpowering the sense of testing him. Why was he terrified of her?

She tried to be less terrifying for now, but she would get to the bottom of this.

“It’s great to see you both!”

A couple of awkward hugs were given to both her kin, giving her husband time to arrive.

He greeted his children warmly, and they seemed less afraid of him than of her.

-Your children love you- she tried to think.

-Yes, I know that- she thought to herself, -but why, why are they scared?-

She realized now that the question had been bothering her for quite some time now. Even before they reunited with Oisin. It had bothered her since the beginning of their children’s high school years. Whenever they would have a trouble that was not related to homework they would first go to Arthur for advice. And that’s when the question began: why him first and not her? It was a small matter at first, she could easily ignore, like a fly on the wall. But over time, it became a dog-sized slug of a question, doubting her every move as a mother. She tried to ignore the slug as they all entered for lunch and, unknowingly to the children, the first of the tests.
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As they entered the mansion, Bridget’s mind began filling with memories of her childhood. It was almost like it was haunted. Not haunted with malicious ghosts, but ghosts that were unaware that they are supposed to be dead. Past versions of her that resided in the halls, repeating the same history on loop.

It was also the fact that the mansion had been maintained in tip top condition for all this time. Mahogany furniture waxed and cleaned. Polished wooden floors and even the books on the shelves were organized by field of study, with the Dewey Decimal System. But the biggest offender was the dining hall.

If the house was generally haunted, the dining hall was the epicenter of the paranormal phenomenon. The memories of meals flowed here like a river. The perfectly placed plates and utensils, even the circular table ornate with rose insignia, the symbol of their house. All of it was more ghostly with the portraits of the ancestors on the walls.

They all got in their respective seats, as they had always done. Arthur in the 12 pm position on a clock, Guinevere in the 11 position, and Bridget and Oisin would be in the 1 and 2 positions on a clock. The servants started getting out of the woodwork, setting up the different meals on the table. Today they started with tapas, small different meals that worked as appetizers.

Both Oisin and Bridget did not use their hands, as it would be quite rude. They utilized the utensils that they were provided, or skewers if it was absolutely necessary. Perfect posture, perfect manners, perfect near everything. Again, unbeknownst to them, they had already passed their parent’s first test.

“So,” Arthur said at the beginning of the main course, “How are things working out in your career as a Bounty Hunter and all?”

“Well, it’s going quite well I must say, it pays the expenses and it doesn’t stop me from doing the things I want in my spare time” she explained, trying to avoid any further questioning and trying to maintain her vocabulary more elevated, matching her parents’ tone.

“That sounds quite good!” her mother congratulated, “what sort of things do you like to do in your spare time if I may ask? I mean, it has been quite some time so I am sure your interests have changed!”

She thought for a second, trying to respond in a way that wouldn’t involve telling her parents about the strange things that happened in her day-to-day life, like having tea-time with a non-binary gear that utilized blood magic, a scythe, and looked like the grim reaper and a prada designer had a child.

“Well, it might seem childish but I do enjoy practicing my yo-yo tricks and enjoying things I haven’t before. Like for example the other day, I went to an amusement park and it was incredible! It was themed like a berry farm! Well that was because it was once a berry farm and there were berry-flavored things that you didn’t expect them to be berry-flavored! There was also Snoopy! Which, I know, again, childish, but it was a nice surprise to see him! I also took a picture with him if you all would like to-”

She paused, seeing that both her parents and her brother had stopped eating.

“I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?”

“No lad, everything is quite alright” her father said, “It’s just that, well, I believe we all got surprised to see you talking so much and so excitedly about something.”

“I agree,” Oisin said, nodding.

“And it’s nice to see you talking after an uncharacteristically quiet childhood,” her mother noted.

Bridget smiled. Both nervous and happy. Happy that her parents hadn’t seen it as a bad thing, but nervous at what other slip-ups she might commit.

Chapter Text

After dinner, everyone went to rest after a long day of travel. Both Oisin and Bridget got into their childhood bedrooms.

Unlike the phantoms of the other rooms of the house this room had memories in which she felt more involved. Not a spectator but someone that lived the events that occurred. When there was no one else she could only use the eyes of her past self.

She settled down her things, organizing a bit and making sure to hide her estrogen somewhere safe. Her room had always been a place of safety but also of secrecy. It was a bit chaotic, despite the attempt at cleanliness by the maids. Book piles, stuffed animals and trinkets seemed to grow in the room like weeds in a garden. But she knew where everything was and could access it easily, to the befuddlement of her parents and her brother.

The most remarkable thing, however, was the ability to hide things everywhere. Nooks and crannies where papers, journals and sometimes treats were hidden. Unfortunately, some hiding spots were too hidden, and so some fungi colonies had developed around hidden snacks. She cleaned these with the utmost care and with these things resolved, she tried to think of what she was going to do next.

She was going to tell her dad first, of course, but, how to get him alone? He and her mother seemed to always be together. It seemed a bit odd to some and to others it was romantic. To Bridget, at that moment, it seemed annoying. And then, she had an idea.

A knock came at the door, which startled her. She composed herself and answered the door.

Her mother was there, slight concern at the edges of her face.

“May I come in?” she asked.

“Yeah! Sure! What’s going on?” Bridget answered, trying to sound as confident as possible. Sounding confident was the key to a good lie. The more confident you sounded, the more believable the lie.

Her mother entered, looking at the room’s state.

“I see you’ve messied up your room again” she said chuckling.

“Yeah, at least for now, gotta feel comfortable in one’s room”

“Have you not been comfortable as of late?”

“Yes! Just y’know, organizing thing so that I can find anything I might need”

-I shouldn’t have said that why did I say that???- she thought to herself.

“I see,” she said, walking around the room, dodging the random assortments of things scattered about.

“So, why did you knock at my door?” she asked cautiously.

“Well, I wanted to ask you something,” her mother answered, still wandering about the room but slowly approaching the hiding place of the estrogen.

“Go right ahead,” she said with full confidence, hoping to distract her.

“Who is your teddy bear?” she asked, picking up Roger, who was reading a book about a hungry caterpillar.

“Please put me down,” he asked calmly.

“That’s Roger, he’s alive and he’s a good friend, please do put him down”

Her mother obliged and still stared at him. He stared back with his cute little button eyes.

-If this were a staring contest, Roger would win- Bridget thought, trying to distract herself from the stressful situation.

She cleared her throat to get both of their attention and asked: “was there anything else I could help you with or did you simply want to ask about Roger?”

“Oh, yes, I did want to ask something else,” she got closer to the hiding spot. Could she smell it or something?

“Are you happy?”

“Well, yes! Of course I’m happy! Why the question?” her heart was beating a thousand times a minute, she felt her palms got sweaty and she had the urge to bite her nails into a fine mush. She had placed her medication underneath the floorboards in a specific spot near the bookshelf but not beside it. That spot was occupied by her mother. Did she know something was there? Or was it just a horrible, horrible coincidence?

“Well, I was asking because it seems as though your life is a bit…hectic”

“Hectic? I don’t know if I’d describe it as hectic. Varied? Maybe. A surprise? Definitely. A little chaotic but the kind of chaos I can manage” she smiled, punching the fear and anxiety in her throat back into her stomach.

“I see,” she said, eyes seemingly inspecting everything in the room, “I was just checking on you, you know how your mother can be sometimes”

Mentally, Bridget breathed a huge sigh of relief.

“I shall go now,” her mother said, opening the door, “But please know that you can trust me with anything you know, right?”

A golden opportunity.

-Tell her! You can tell her now! She’s alone! You can run away if she despises your very existence!-

But she didn’t say anything. She simply nodded and waved her mother goodbye.

Chapter Text

The next morning, she decided to execute her plan. She didn’t know how it would go, but she needed to do it as quickly as possible. What was the goal? Get her father alone. How to do it? Duel. How to propose and when to propose the duel? Crack of dawn, in person, at breakfast.

The day seemed to have already begun by the time Bridget got downstairs. Both her parents and her brother were having a bountiful continental breakfast, full of both sweet and savory options that one could have to their heart’s content. She sat down, hands a bit fluttery, but she knew she had to do this. She had to do this, because she already did it tons of times. She had to do this because then her parents would just love the version of her that’s stuck in the past.

“Dad?” she asked, with most of the strength she could gather.

“Yes son?”

“Would you like to have a duel today? After lunch if it’s not too bothersome?”

“Oh? Yes! Of course! That would be absolutely wonderful! Weapon of choice?”

“Any, but both have to be melee weapons”

“Ah, yes! A true gentleman’s choice!” he said proudly. Bridget knew her father loved sword duels. She especially knew he liked them to be private affairs whenever it was possible. He liked preserving the public image of a silly, harmless man. But she knew that he could handle his way around most melee weapons with incredible dexterity.

“Alright, see you in the atrium?” she asked.

“Yes yes of course, I shall be pulling out old Christine from my closet, what weapon shall you use then?” he said, curious.

“That’ll be a surprise”

“Ah, very well, a surprise it shall be” he smiled.

Her mother and Oisin looked at her. One knowing, the other not. Oisin looked at her as if knowing some part of her scheme, or at the very least a clue. Her mother simply looked a little baffled at the proposal of a duel in the middle of breakfast but trying to figure out what in the heavens was going on.

“So you’re telling dad in a duel?” Oisin asked her later in the day, watching her practice with her yo-yo.

“Yep, well, after the duel” she said absent-mindedly, practicing the different moves she needed to do. In her mind she ran through the setups she needed to do. Placing down different yo-yo’s, both making space for the yo-yo’s in a way that she could maintain range and keep the suite of attacks incoming.

“And why the duel? Why not a private conversation?” he asked.

“When he duels dad becomes one of the happiest men in the universe”

“Yes, we know this”

“And if he’s the happiest man in the universe, whether the duel is lost or won, then this possibly sad news might not affect him that much”

“Makes sense, but why dad first? Don’t you think he might be like “oh no I have one less son” or something along those lines?”

“Well, between that and the possibility of my mother looking at me in disgust for trying to be a woman, I’d rather take the sadness”

“Right, why are we always so negative?”

She paused, “what do you mean?”

“I mean, I feel like we’re being a couple of Debbie downers. What if our parents just love you unconditionally? What if it’s all going to be alright?”

“Our mother shouted at you when she saw you, what will she do when she knows of me?”

“You’re right, but what if she learned from that?”

“Then that doesn’t exclude dad”

“Right, but I don’t know, maybe it’s just foolish for me to hope that they’re better parents than what we give them credit for, but I still hope”

“It’s not a dumb hope” she explained, “But, I just don’t want to have some sky-high expectations and then be dropped to earth with melted wax wings”

“Is it a high-sky expectation for a parent to love their kid through highs and lows? Through all circumstances?”
“Maybe, maybe in this case”

They both stayed silent. It seemed eternal. Just Bridget practicing, remembering her setups and performing them ‘till she did them perfectly. Place deployable yo-yo. Jump, make the opponent guess if she was going to go from above or from below.

“Well then, whatever happens, I wish you the best of luck. And if things go badly, count on me to have your back”

He stood up and left. Leaving her with the need to practice and with anxiety of the moment to come.

And the moment did eventually come. Both stood in the atrium, weapons at the ready. Bridget with her yo-yo, spinning it back and forth, making sure she was ready to strike at a moment’s notice. Arthur with Christine, a simple rapier at first that could also shoot bullets if the battle required it. These two fighters of course had dummy bullets rather than real bullets, they were aiming to practice, not kill each other.

“Ready?” asked her father, confident, stretching to make sure the old articulations were working correctly.

“Ready!” she answered with as much positivity as she could muster.

The master of ceremonies, a servant of the house that oversaw these internal duels, rang the bell. Bridget ran towards her father, using both her yo-yo’s as wheels, doing a bit of damage to Arthur’s shins. However, this did not stop her father from piercing her jacket, making her stop in her tracks, dangling like a poor kitten picked up by the scruff.

“Son, you have to understand that you cannot just approach your enemy in such a way, you have to think your approach, see your range versus your enemy’s and -”

A thwack with a yo-yo cut the sentence short and freed Bridget from his grasp. He smiled, proud that his teachings had been learned. They both continued to fight, sharing a similar style of fighting. Both dextrous, both focused on speed rather than pure strength. However, Bridget used those two to confuse her opponents and make sure she won in the short term while her father used those to patiently wait for his opponent to attack and counterattack with a long string of thrusts and slashes.

The fight, unfortunately, ended in a draw. They both demanded a rematch but the master of ceremonies declared that they both needed to rest and needed to hydrate before any rematches could be done.

“But by gods did we have a wonderful duel!” her father said after the fact, despite being sweaty, tired and bruised.

“A wonderful duel indeed” she answered, despite having slashed clothes, a couple of knicks here and there, and some bruises from those dummy bullets.

“And you’re still skilled at that yo-yo I gave you boy! Incredible work! Masterfully done!”

“Thank you dad, but, I need to talk to you about something”

“What is it?”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t call me boy”

“Oh! Yes! Sorry! I still think of you as my little boy when you’re clearly a man!”

“No, it’s something else entirely”

“Oh?”

“Well…”

Chapter Text

Why was it so hard for her to say the words? In terms of using vocabulary it was quite simple. Just say “I’m trans”. Two words. 3 technically because of the contraction but still, just saying that simple phrase shouldn’t be difficult. But it was.

“Can I…speak to you in private?” she asked.
He nodded, and they walked a distance away from any nearby staff.

“What is it? Are you alright?”

“Dad, I need to be honest with you. I need to be honest, and that starts by saying that I’m still the person you helped raise. The kid you still love. The kid that you tried your best to give the best childhood.”

“Where are you going with this?”

Her heart beat 100 times a minute. She would’ve preferred to be at gunpoint. Anything other than this. Anything other than risking the relationship of someone she loves and cares about.

“Dad, I’m not your son. I’m your daughter, I hope it doesn’t change how we view each other, and I hope it doesn’t change our relationship. I also hope that you can, at the very least, respect who and what I am"

Her father, in all respects, did not have a good poker face. He had a confusing expression. She couldn’t quite figure out what the emotion was, but by god was it emotional. It was moving around, but not one feature could let her know what was going on inside his mind. So perhaps it was a good poker face after all?

“Dad…?”

“I’m… I don’t know how to process this”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I can perhaps understand some things in your life that could’ve led to this, but I’m also sad that I won’t be able to do some things anymore”

“Like?”

“Well, I won’t be able to see you as a groom, if you ever decide to marry, or even just go on a fishing trip together! We won’t be able to have as much time together!”

“Dad…you can still ask me to go on a fishing trip, I wouldn’t mind. At least if it’s with you”

“I mean, you are correct, but it’s not going to be the same!”

“Well, yeah, things change, you were once a boy, now you’re a man. I was once a boy, now I’m a woman. We can still hang out and have fun together, it might be a little different, but we’ll find other things to do as well”

“I…see,” he said hesitating. He seemed to be deep in thought for a moment. Before asking: “how long have you known?”

“For a couple years now, it was a slow process but I eventually realized it. I still liked my name, just, switched around the gender”

“And, why did you not tell us?” he said, heartbroken. Not mad, not angry, simply sad that his daughter did not trust him.

“Well, I was…afraid,” she confessed.

“Afraid of what? We’re your family, you should be able to trust us with this, we’ve helped you through so much and seen you in all your stages, why not this?”

“Because you don’t seem to be very inviting of “others”” she said with air quotes.

“How so?” he asked.

“Well, mom screamed when she first saw Oisin in his new form, so I’m assuming you did not have that positive of a reaction as well”

“A correct assumption”

“And there’s an older example as well”

“Oh?”

“Remember that werewolf that was in the kitchen that one stormy night?”

“Yes! I was terrified that he would maul you or kidnap you or something of the sort!”

“Well, I let him in”

“WHAT?” The man looked shocked as if electrocuted.

“Yes! Because you taught me to take care of those who needed caring! He was bleeding, cold, and hungry! So I took care of his wounds, brought him to the warm inside and gave him some pumpkin soup! And you pointed a gun at him! Through all these years I’ve had the fear of you looking at me like you did that werewolf that night. Looking at me as if I was some sort of abomination that needed to be put 6 feet under. So…I didn’t say anything when I decided to finally transition. Out of fear”

She heard him cry. The most cheerful man she knew was crying. She felt her face and noticed that she too was crying. He hugged her. She hesitatingly took the hug and returned it as well.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know it’s not enough to say these words. But promise me, that if I ever make you feel like that again you tell me, alright?” He hugged a little tighter.

“I will”

“And, I’m sorry if I’m not well-equipped to deal with your new self, so, please correct me when needed, alright?”

“Yes, I will”

They hugged in silence for a little bit. It turned a little awkward once it reached the 5-minute mark. There they both released each other. Her dad wiped his tears and offered another tissue for her as well. She accepted, and as she was wiping her face, he asked:

“Does your mother know?”

She paused. Right. She would have to do this again.

“I haven’t told her yet”

“I see…do you want me to help you…tell her?”

She thought for a second. That would be nice. Someone to help her all with this situation. But she knew what she had to do.

“No, it’s something I must do myself”

“Alrighty, then I wish you the best of luck with that, and you have my full support, my…girl?” he paused, “I think I need to come up with a new nickname for you it seems”

“Yeah I don’t think that has quite the same connotation as “my boy” now does it?”

Arthur gave a hearty laugh as they both started walking out of the atrium.

-One down, one to go - she thought, proud of at least having done one-half of what she had set out to do.