Whoniverse Fic: Bi
Jun. 27th, 2010 03:29 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
svollgaTitle: Bi
Fandom: Whoniverse
Genre: gen
Character: Jack Harkness, Alonso Frame, imlpied River Song
Rating: Teen
Beta:ettegoom
A/N: The idea occurred to me during DW 5x13 (though it doesn’t spoil anything) and refused to go away. I’m not quite sure how does it work with the specifics of the canon, but I had to get it out. Very weird thing, but Whoniverse can fit anything weird.
All the gender pronouns are used intentionally.
Summary: Jack’s gender isn’t a fixed point.
If Jack had to name one thing he missed most while stranded on the 19-20-21st century Earth, he would say good SRS clinics. Especially when it was time to become a she.
It was the worst the first time around, of course - when she was suffocating in the male body, hating it as much as he loved it, for being too big and too flat and having that bloody thing between her legs. It didn’t help that it was the war, the first great one, and she was in the field, one manly man among many, while she didn’t want to be manly. She wanted to be feminine, to be seen as one, treated as one - even by this century’s crappy standards, she thought sometimes, it would be okay. It was that bad.
It became better the next time, and the next, though ‘better’ was still unbearable. It went bad again with Estel, who wouldn’t understand, and Jack left while he was still mostly a ‘he’, before it got really ugly. Jack hoped that the change would stop the love he felt, but luck wasn’t on hir side.
Then they discovered the concept of gender. At least he/she had a word to describe what she/he was to those rare people he/she needed to. Though she/he got used to distancing hirself from others, and the immortality never helped in close relationship, so it wasn’t that much a problem. And while it wasn’t worth the bother to explain the details to even her co-workers, she could find the circles which understood her at least a little bit. Clubs, communities. People. Lucia did better than others. Melissa even called her Mom, once, back before she became Alice.
She still hated that the best she could do was put female clothes on her male body. And while with the development of the SRS clinics she began to think about surgery, the following restoring of the male body when his time would come was too much for hir.
He felt the oncoming of the next change in 2009. He was thinking about how to explain it to Ianto. Never got a chance.
After months of wondering aimlessly from one transgalactic liner to another, on the brink of the change, with futile hope that it will take the mourning and pain away, the Doctor introduces hir to Alonso. Alonso, who came from a world without the quaint little categories, at least not in that sphere. Alonso who called her ‘my girl’ even while sucking her cock and never blinked at that.
The first stop she made was the SRS at Woman Wept.
* * *
‘You are beautiful’, Alonso says the next morning running a hand along her spine. She agrees. She hasn’t seen this version of hirself since her late twenties, when her body had been changed according to her self-perception for the seventh time in hir life. In the 51st century, it is included in the basic insurance. Not to mention, entirely possible to do in several hours.
She’s much older now, and her beauty is both more subdued and edgier. She tugs on one curly lock, contemplating a name. Hir old one is lost in the centuries he/she went as Jack Harkness. She doesn’t feel like that name anymore, and neither did he. Also, that name must be in the database of the Time Agency, and she isn’t in the mood for meeting one of hir colleagues. Not yet.
But she needs a name.
‘Tell me a tale, Alonso’, she says turning to him.
‘A tale?’
‘Yes’, she smiles and pushes him back onto the bed. ‘A tale. Your world has tales, does it?’
‘Yeah…’
‘So tell me. Tell me a tale about a girl. A girl like me.’
He opens and closes his mouth while she cuddles next to him, tracing patterns on his chest, feeling all the curves and lines of her new body - it felt strange the night before, and still does, but it’s better with every minute. For the first time in centuries, she can breathe without feeling that she’s wrong.
Alonso finally finds the tale he was trying to remember, and stutters the traditional beginning. She smiles at him encouragingly.
‘There was a girl’, he says falling into the sing-song rhythm of storytelling. ‘There was a girl once. Her name was River Song…’
Fandom: Whoniverse
Genre: gen
Character: Jack Harkness, Alonso Frame, imlpied River Song
Rating: Teen
Beta:
ettegoom A/N: The idea occurred to me during DW 5x13 (though it doesn’t spoil anything) and refused to go away. I’m not quite sure how does it work with the specifics of the canon, but I had to get it out. Very weird thing, but Whoniverse can fit anything weird.
All the gender pronouns are used intentionally.
Summary: Jack’s gender isn’t a fixed point.
If Jack had to name one thing he missed most while stranded on the 19-20-21st century Earth, he would say good SRS clinics. Especially when it was time to become a she.
It was the worst the first time around, of course - when she was suffocating in the male body, hating it as much as he loved it, for being too big and too flat and having that bloody thing between her legs. It didn’t help that it was the war, the first great one, and she was in the field, one manly man among many, while she didn’t want to be manly. She wanted to be feminine, to be seen as one, treated as one - even by this century’s crappy standards, she thought sometimes, it would be okay. It was that bad.
It became better the next time, and the next, though ‘better’ was still unbearable. It went bad again with Estel, who wouldn’t understand, and Jack left while he was still mostly a ‘he’, before it got really ugly. Jack hoped that the change would stop the love he felt, but luck wasn’t on hir side.
Then they discovered the concept of gender. At least he/she had a word to describe what she/he was to those rare people he/she needed to. Though she/he got used to distancing hirself from others, and the immortality never helped in close relationship, so it wasn’t that much a problem. And while it wasn’t worth the bother to explain the details to even her co-workers, she could find the circles which understood her at least a little bit. Clubs, communities. People. Lucia did better than others. Melissa even called her Mom, once, back before she became Alice.
She still hated that the best she could do was put female clothes on her male body. And while with the development of the SRS clinics she began to think about surgery, the following restoring of the male body when his time would come was too much for hir.
He felt the oncoming of the next change in 2009. He was thinking about how to explain it to Ianto. Never got a chance.
After months of wondering aimlessly from one transgalactic liner to another, on the brink of the change, with futile hope that it will take the mourning and pain away, the Doctor introduces hir to Alonso. Alonso, who came from a world without the quaint little categories, at least not in that sphere. Alonso who called her ‘my girl’ even while sucking her cock and never blinked at that.
The first stop she made was the SRS at Woman Wept.
* * *
‘You are beautiful’, Alonso says the next morning running a hand along her spine. She agrees. She hasn’t seen this version of hirself since her late twenties, when her body had been changed according to her self-perception for the seventh time in hir life. In the 51st century, it is included in the basic insurance. Not to mention, entirely possible to do in several hours.
She’s much older now, and her beauty is both more subdued and edgier. She tugs on one curly lock, contemplating a name. Hir old one is lost in the centuries he/she went as Jack Harkness. She doesn’t feel like that name anymore, and neither did he. Also, that name must be in the database of the Time Agency, and she isn’t in the mood for meeting one of hir colleagues. Not yet.
But she needs a name.
‘Tell me a tale, Alonso’, she says turning to him.
‘A tale?’
‘Yes’, she smiles and pushes him back onto the bed. ‘A tale. Your world has tales, does it?’
‘Yeah…’
‘So tell me. Tell me a tale about a girl. A girl like me.’
He opens and closes his mouth while she cuddles next to him, tracing patterns on his chest, feeling all the curves and lines of her new body - it felt strange the night before, and still does, but it’s better with every minute. For the first time in centuries, she can breathe without feeling that she’s wrong.
Alonso finally finds the tale he was trying to remember, and stutters the traditional beginning. She smiles at him encouragingly.
‘There was a girl’, he says falling into the sing-song rhythm of storytelling. ‘There was a girl once. Her name was River Song…’