#febwhumpday7

[dragonsarecool]

Febwhump Day 7 - Alternate Timeline Self

A/N: Sisko thought he'd finally gotten over Jennifer's death. But then he meets her again, and the universe seems to fall apart. Set after 'Through the Looking Glass'.

Part of him had thought about calling Dax over for a late night drinking session, but he decided he couldn't bear the idea of voicing his thoughts aloud. Tonight was the sort of night where he needed to be alone; he didn't need to hear stories from every single one of her marriages.

He took a long sip, silently grateful that he'd decided to replicate a bottle instead of his usual glass. One drink wouldn't be enough tonight. Not after what he'd been through today.

Correction: not after who he'd seen today.

She was Jennifer, and yet she wasn't Jennifer. The implications were enough to make his head spin. I hate temporal mechanics.

They were the same eyes that made his knees weak and his voice stutter.

The palms of her hand had the same creases that he'd spent years memorising the pattern of.

Her hair had the same texture that he'd missed twirling around his fingers while they cuddled at night.

The way her voice faded into a breath when she'd whispered his name-

Sisko grabbed the bottle and took another swig, allowing his tears to roll freely as he stared mindlessly at the stars. Having to say goodbye to you again was definitely one of the worst moments of my life.

Was this whole thing some sort of tests from the Prophets? They'd used Jennifer's image when he first entered the Temple, after all. Maybe they thought they were being kind and giving me a chance to see her again?

It's not an opportunity I appreciated.

He'd told Doctor Bashir it hadn't been the kidnapping or playing the role of a dead man that bothered him the most; it was the torture.

"But sir, you said you didn't experience any torture?" Bashir had asked hesitantly.

He'd taken a deep breath, trying to stop himself from breaking down in front of Bashir. "Having the opportunity to see my wife and then ripping it away forever. Getting to hear her voice, see her smile, hold her hand after all these years; she's dead, Doctor. She's been dead for a long time, and that was the real torture."

He lay his head on the ottoman and stared out into the endless universe, grateful that the morning was still hours away. Bashir and Kira had instructed him to take as much time as he needed; the station would survive a few days without him.

He knew they genuinely meant it as well. After all, they'd been to the parallel universe. They'd seen alternate counterparts, how they live and how they died. They would give him the space he needed.

For now, he had time to grieve again.

[crowleychild]

DAY 7: ALTERNATIVE TIMELINE SELF

Fandom: Star Wars

Rating: T

Warnings: Gender dysphoria, intense guilt, depression, wrong puberty

When he was in the Clan, it hadn’t really matter. You train, play, learn and live with everybody, boy, girl or neither. Obi-Wan wasn’t really close to anyone, but he was always read as a boy by his peers, and by Masters who didn’t know him personally. Pronouns didn’t make sense for him at that time, so he didn’t see anything weird in people calling him a “he”. It was what it was. He didn't think he was different from other girls, but he didn’t see how they were different from other boys either.

But one doesn’t stay a kid forever.

Obi-Wan wasn’t stupid. As soon as he studied galactic biology and learnt about differences between sexes in his species, he knew there was something wrong with him.

“I am a girl” he would think, looking at his holo book. But his mind fought against that idea. He had always been happy with being himself, Obi-Wan, and he didn’t quite get the difference between boys and girls yet, other than how their bodies were meant to look different.

But by looking at other humans his age, he only came to the conclusion that they were pretty similar.

“I am a boy” he would think, and that thought did feel right.

He couldn’t remember which Jedi had found him at three, so he didn’t know who else knew his secret. He guessed Yoda knew, but he had always referred to him the same way he referred to the other boys, and he had never called him a girl, so that was fine.

And then, too soon, he was a teen.

His puberty was late, so when he was assigned to Qui-Gon he could still pass as male. But again, he wasn’t stupid. He knew that sooner or later, he had to go through that process that would surely bring him more pain, and that was something he could simply not let happen.

Maybe he should have asked Qui-Gon for help, talked about it with his Master, but at first their relationship was far from perfect, so he didn’t want to add anything to the list of things that bother both of them. Plus, Jedi weren’t supposed to care about mundane matters such as the body and how you look, so he always believed his thoughts were wrong and incorrect. He feared punishment or judgment if he told his Master.

He needed a solution, though, so any second he had of free time he spent it on the Archives. And while he searched for it, he kept with his Jedi training, except that someone did punish and judge him: himself.

Every time he couldn’t run as fast as other boys or lose at a training combat because he hadn’t been strong enough, he felt like he was letting his Master down. Everytime he couldn’t do something perfectly at his first try, it was because this thing that was wrong with him was making him fail.

Qui-Gon felt his bitterness every time this happened and he would tell him he didn’t need to be like anyone else, that his puberty would come eventually and he would be faster and stronger. But this only made his heart sink even more.

Yeah, his puberty would come, but not the one that it should be.

He kept searching in the Archives for an answer.

And he found it.

“Testosterone”. He realized. “That’s what I need”

He could go to any clinic on Coruscant and say he was a boy with a testosterone deficit, and that he needed a supplement. He knew everyone in the upper levels respected and almost feared the Jedi, so they wouldn’t ask him too many questions. Now, how to go there without raising any suspicions?

The solution presented itself in the form of homework. He had to choose an optional subject to study, and he found one that could work as an excuse: Community service. He could volunteer to help at some clinic, help the doctors, heal the wounded, and just after his shift ended, he would take his T shot right there. It seemed easy.

At first, it worked. He enjoyed working there, he learnt he liked helping others, and nobody knew why he was really there. Testosterone did his work. He became faster and stronger. Yet still, he kept punishing and judging himself, as if he couldn’t put down that old habit. He would tell himself everything he was was a lie, that he was lying to his Master and that that was why his bond was weak and they didn’t have a good relationship even when years had passed since they met. He told himself that he could be fast and strong but just because he had cheated, he didn’t deserve to have come this far as a Jedi.

Eventually, of course, his Master discovered.

Obi-Wan remembered he had been so scared that he had thought of leaving the Order, leaving Coruscant, if that meant not seeing his Master or anyone who knew him again. But if fighting to be himself had taught him something, was to be brave. He faced his Master, looking him in the eye when he declared he was a boy.

He may abandon the Order, but he wouldn't do it feeling ashamed for who he was.

To his surprise, Qui-Gon was okay with it. He told him that of course he was a boy, and that there was nothing wrong with wanting to change your body, especially if that change makes you love yourself in a better way.

Many things changed from that day on. Obi-Wan didn't have to carry that weight on his own anymore, his Master always helped him and defended his true self from others. Together, they organized everything for his top surgery and hysterectomy.

Those were happy years.

And despite all, Obi-Wan never felt quite right ever again. His mind was always telling him it was his fault when a mission failed. It was irrational, but he felt like that every time something went wrong. Even if there was nothing he could have done about it.

Maybe, if he had told everything to his Master before, the guilt would have never appeared in the first place.

He would look at his scars, at his beard, at his muscles, and knew it was worth it, but irrationally he thought he should pay for some sin he had never committed.

And now, when Obi-Wan is old, living on Tatooine, he wonders a lot what his life could have been if he had had the correct body.

Maybe, in another timeline, he is confident and never felt like there was something wrong with him. Maybe, in another timeline he was able to help Anakin, their bond stronger because they would feel more aligned, since they were both real men. Maybe, in another timeline he wasn't living on that desert planet, where he couldn’t get his T and where he was dying every day, remembering that his body wasn't what it was supposed to be and it was driving him crazy.

Again, this was all irrational. He knew he was a real man, testosterone or not. He knew a bond had nothing to do with one's body. And he knew he couldn’t have done anything more for his padawan.

He knows now he has a sin to pay for, his wrong body was not the excuse for all his failures, and that thought hurts even more.

link to my ao3 work:

tags: @febuwhump

[sisters-sideblog]

Day 7: Used as an experiment (Wind)

“I’m sorry,” Wild said to Twilight in the background, interspersed with, “It was an accident - didn’t mean to - we were just playing around.”

“Deep breathes, Wind. Eyes on me.” Time crouched in front of Wind. Whenever he tried to look at what Warriors and Hyrule were doing to his arm, Time stopped him with a hand on his chin or brushing through his fringe.

“Are they gonna fix it?” Wind asked in his bravest voice.

Time glanced over, again stopping Wind from doing the same. When he answered, his voice sounded so confident that Wind had to believe him. “Yes, Wind. You’ll be fine. But perhaps reconsider letting Wild use you as a test subject in his experiments with physics.”