woebetide

  AnnouncementPaper Rings is an alternate universe of Invisible String in which Persephone and Summer meet in the cis floors of Dorley Hall in 2019, a few weeks before a boy named Stefan hangs out with a pretty girl at a party and drunkenly blurts out a conspiracy theory about her dormitory.

  What I’m posting today doesn’t get that far, though—it only shows the point where the timelines diverge and how that change sent Summer’s career at Dorley Hall down a different path than the one depicted in Invisible String Chapter 32. I have drafts of a little bit of 2019 material, but they’re not complete enough to share and I don’t know where the story would go after the initial setup. If or how that material would get published kinda depends on whether inspiration strikes, but this part, at least, stands alone nicely.

  Enjoy! —Becca

  2014 September 6 (AU)FridayThe rest of the squad didn’t think much of this posting. Bodyguarding for the residents of a suburban London home wasn’t their idea of an interesting assignment, and they certainly didn’t have much regard for the VIPs—a middle-aged gay couple and their btantly queer teenager. When the men gathered at the pub after a shift, they rarely made it halfway through the second round of pints before the homophobic jokes started up. Worst of all, sometimes it made them sloppy on the job; after all, what self-respecting young soldier really wanted to lose a limb for a family of fruits?

  But Trevor Darling didn’t agree with the rest of the squad. After all, he was closeted from them, but not from the VIPs. The family were really sweet to him whenever he was alone with them; Mr. Chase—the taller one, the bespectacled homemaker with patches of gray at the temples in his red hair and a distracting amount of muscle beneath his tight t-shirts—even gave him fresh-baked pastries sometimes, usually with a knowing gnce and a teasing smile. Like a kindly aunt who was somehow simultaneously a flirty bi man.

  Funny that, of the two of them, it was Dr. Chase—the breadwinning bearded ex-twink who wore impeccably-tailored three-piece suits like it was a doctrine of his personal religion—who the kid called ‘Mum’. Must be some sort of inside joke.

  Point was, Trevor really liked the family he was protecting, which was why he sometimes put in a little more effort than his orders required. Today, that meant he was inspecting the undercarriage of the family Volvo using a mirror on a long stick. A guy with more mechanical training had done this on Wednesday like usual, but the couple were about to drive up to the Lakes for a little romantic getaway, so Trevor figured a st-minute check couldn’t hurt.

  Little Chase had been packed off to visit Ms. Lambert a few hours ago, and Trevor’s partner Joseph—who’d been angling for a promotion—had accompanied the kid. That left Trevor alone with Mr. Chase, which meant neither of them had to pretend he was straight. Always a bit of a relief.

  He heard the crunch of footsteps on the drive’s gravel; then there was a grunt and the thud of luggage, and he saw the car rock a little on its suspension; then finally, the thud of the boot closing. Mr. Chase must be finished with the luggage.

  More walking sounds, then the car shifted a bit. “Very kind of you to watch out for us like this, Trevor,” the man said.

  Trevor gnced up from the mirror. Mr. Chase was leaning against the door of the Volvo with his hands in his jeans pockets and a charming smile on his lips. Mr. Chase was also shirtless. Christ, look at those pecs.

  He hastily returned his gaze to the mirror. Tubes, wires, shafts, structural members. Pecs? What pecs?

  “It’s no trouble at all, Mr. Chase,” he said.

  “I’ve told you,” Mr. Chase said, “you can call me ‘Ford’.”

  “Of course, Mr. Chase.” One of their little bits of banter. Mr. Chase didn’t really expect him to break protocol; he just liked to—

  Hmm, that was odd. Trevor didn’t know a ton about cars, but he did have a good memory; that hose hadn’t looked frayed the st time he’d done this, and it certainly hadn’t been leaking anything.

  Fortunately, he knew who to ask. “Mr. Chase,” Trevor said, “could you take a gander at this? I’m not sure what I’m looking at.” He’d seen the man just st week climb out from under the car half-covered in motor oil; his tool chest was rge and well-loved.

  “Sure,” Mr. Chase said. He pushed off the car and stood beside Trevor. In other circumstances, Trevor would’ve found the proximity distracting, but right now he was pretty focused. “Oh, damn. That, Trevor Darling, is the brake line. They can sometimes get worn out over time; I should get it serviced.”

  “I don’t think it’s just wear-and-tear, Mr. Chase,” Trevor said with a frown. “It didn’t look like that yesterday.”

  Mr. Chase gave him a sharp look. “Really?” he said. “Then it may not have been an accident.”

  Trevor’s head snapped up. He immediately scanned the garage and the drive, his hand on his sidearm, but there was nobody else in sight. “I should ring dispatch,” he told Mr. Chase, “call for reinforcements and a mechanic.”

  “Good idea,” Mr. Chase told him. “Have them send out an investigator too, and perhaps a bodyguard to Chelsea to escort Dyn home. I don’t think we’ll be driving up north today after all.”

  A few hours ter, when the investigator had come and gone and a double-size shift had arrived to relieve Trevor, Mr. Chase called him into his study and told him to close the door behind him. Mr. Chase was wearing a shirt now, thankfully. He was perched on the big mahogany desk; his husband stood behind it in his pinstriped vest, his suit jacket dangling from the back of a chair, coffee mug in hand. The jacket must be padded, because without it Dr. Chase’s shoulders looked narrower than he’d expected, though he was no less handsome for it.

  “I’ve been told there are signs of sabotage,” Mr. Chase said. “Someone was probably trying to murder my family. And the only reason they didn’t succeed, Trevor, was your diligence.”

  Trevor shook his head. “It was nothing, Mr. Chase.”

  “It kept our kid from being made an orphan,” Dr. Chase said. “It means the world to us—we’re damned lucky you’re here.”

  Mr. Chase stood, closed the distance, leaned over, and kissed Trevor on the cheek. “Thank you, Trevor Darling,” he said. “We’re in your debt.”

  Later, there’d be a handwritten letter of commendation from Ms. Lambert, a medallion for his dress uniform, a promotion and a pay rise. Some kind words from the squad, too; all of them realized that if it weren’t for him, they’d have spent the next few weeks trying to expin to their superiors how, exactly, they’d let their VIPs get killed. Not to mention that the Chases would have an immense long-term impact on his career.

  But what would always stand out in Trevor’s mind was the scent of Mr. Chase’s cologne and the feel of the man’s lips on his cheek.

  2015 October 7 (AU)Wednesday“Tell me: What’s your boy’s full name?”

  “This is silly, Maria. I selected Liam months ago. I know his name, his face, his background—the whole damn file front to back!”

  “Procedures exist for a reason, Summer,” Maria chided. “We had some embarrassing mistakes before we put this one in pce. So stop whinging and answer the question: What’s your boy’s full name?”

  “Liam Ruby,” Summer said with a sigh.

  Maria checked it against a tablet. “Good. And what did he do to end up in our intake?”

  “Non-stop catcalling,” Summer said. “Catcalling in rge, intimidating groups of men. Catcalling women out alone te at night. Catcalling twelve-year-old girls. Catcalling in a hundred situations where any woman would feel threatened.”

  “And which cell is he in?”

  “Cell 3. Thanks for that, by the way.”

  “I get it,” Maria said with a shrug. “I invented the ’very same cell’ speech.” She put down the tablet. “You’re good to go. Good luck with your new boy.”

  * * *

  She heard his wolf whistle before she even saw him.

  She’d expected it. Pnned for it, actually. Even by the standards of her often risqué wardrobe, Summer had dressed provocatively for this first meeting: a bright red minidress, equally bright red pumps, a bck belt with her taser holstered, and a high-waisted bck leather jacket to cover her back, shoulders, and tattoo. She’d hoped to bait him into a reaction right away, to show him immediately that he wouldn’t get the fear he craved from her, and it had worked even better than pnned.

  Still, you’d think a few days in a cell with nothing but a Goserelin impnt for company might have slowed his lower head’s reaction time by at least a couple of seconds.

  “Impressive,” she said, giving him the most unimpressed look she could muster. “Neither of us has said a single word, Liam Ruby, but you’ve already earned your first strike.”

  “Strike?” Liam said.

  “Strike,” Summer replied. “You get three before I start really punishing you, and you’re already down one. So if you don’t want to find out what someone who’s already locked you in a windowless cell for a week considers a ‘real punishment’, I’d recommend you try respecting a woman for once in your fucking life.”

  “What, luv, I can’t show a girl a little appreciation?” he leered. Liam was 190 centimeters and 110 kilos of solid muscle, and he looked the part. Face only a mother could love, too; Mrs. Prentice would have her work cut out for her.

  Summer had nearly passed on him because she knew he could destroy her in a fistfight, but he had no history of actually using violence, just threatening it. Besides, if worst came to worst, she’d been getting pretty good with the taser.

  “Catcalling is not about appreciation, Liam Ruby. Catcalling is about power. It’s about making a woman feel unsafe. It’s about reminding her that she lives in a society where you have power and she does not. It’s about forcing her to think about you, to worry that you might impose your hairy, smelly, oafish body on her. Now, maybe your tiny little pea-brain has become so atrophied by testosterone that you don’t understand that, but…”

  She continued on in that vein for several minutes. Her speech was just building up a head of steam when Liam suddenly derailed it. “I was ‘born a threat to women and girls’? What are you, a bloody TERF?”

  What the actual fuck?

  Summer stopped abruptly, eyeing him warily through the gss. She was expecting the smug self-satisfaction of an antifeminist troll, but he looked genuinely angry with her.

  “Fuck no,” she said. “Trans women are women; trans men are men; enbies are what they say they are.” She cocked her head, looking at him more closely. “Are you just trying to ’checkmate, liberal’ me,” she asked, “or does it actually matter to you?”

  “Of course it matters!” Liam said hotly.

  Summer arched an elegantly plucked eyebrow. “Really? Why, exactly, does your kidnapper’s opinion on trans politics matter to you?”

  Liam’s mouth made a perfect ‘O’. “I—um—well—it ought to matter to everyone! Trans rights are human rights, and—”

  He was stalling. He was afraid of giving an honest answer. Why?

  The first-time sponsor handbook had told her to show no gentleness to your boy until at least intake week six. Never soften your voice, never use anything but his full name, never offer any access to your inner life. But Tabby had told her that all of the instructions and protocols and manuals in the entire basement shouldn’t override your instincts. And Summer’s instincts were screaming at her to explore this.

  “Look, Liam, you don’t need to convince me of that.” Summer dipped her shoulder and let her jacket slip down her left arm, then turned so he could see the vines tattooed on it—and the pink, white, and blue flowers nestled among them.

  His word geyser stopped mid-sylble; instead, his jaw worked soundlessly. He stepped toward the gss, staring at her arm, then looked back up at her face; she could practically hear the gears grinding in his head. “You’re—you’re trans?” he said at st.

  “I’m trans,” she said, lifting her jacket back onto her shoulders.

  “Jesus Christ,” he breathed. “I would never have guessed.” Rude, but she’d overlook it; he sounded thunderstruck.

  “Three years and a good surgeon can make a lot of changes,” she said.

  He scowled and walked away. Ah, he didn’t like that answer at all.

  There was a lever here—a powerful one. She could see it, grasp it. But what was it? Only one way to find out: Grab it and push.

  “What, you have a problem with my medical history?” she asked.

  He whirled around at once. “‘Passing’ is just cisnormativity,” Liam growled, striding towards the gss, “and surgery is just giving in to it.”

  Now that was a strange thing for him to have a strong opinion about. And his mannerisms were so odd! When he spoke, his voice was halfway to his head; when he walked, his hips swayed—

  Oh. That was the lever.

  “Maybe that’s true for some of us,” Summer said. “But I needed surgery to really see myself in the mirror every morning; there’s no shame in that.” She paused, then added, “And I bet you do too, don’t you, Ruby?”

  “I—what?”

  “You’re not a boy, are you?” Summer said. “Probably a girl, but don’t quote me on that.”

  “I—that is—but—what difference would it even make?” he stammered.

  “Well, for one thing, I’d have a totally different lecture for you,” Summer said. “It’d probably go something like this: ‘You’re a woman, so why won’t you bloody well act like one? Don’t let the patriarchy use you as a weapon against your sisters! Embrace them! Become who you were born to be!’”

  “With this fucking mug?” He ughed bitterly.

  Oh. Oh. That would expin it all, wouldn’t it? He catcalled beautiful women because they had what he couldn’t—what he’d convinced himself he shouldn’t even want in the first pce.

  Now it was Summer who turned away, resting her hand against the wall for a moment. She needed to recenter, to reset her perceptions. She closed her eyes for a couple of seconds. When she reopened them, she shrugged off her jacket, let it pool on the floor; the armor she’d donned to face the boy would only encumber her now. Then she rolled her shoulders to stretch them—in her mind’s eye, she could see the muscles visibly flexing, framed by her backless dress—and turned to face the girl in the cell.

  She was staring, a blush on her cheeks. Good. A sapphic girl, then; a lever Summer was particurly adept with.

  “I think you’ll find that things are different here,” she said, stepping carefully over the jacket and approaching the gss once more. She looked the girl—her girl—over. “Do you have a name, girl?”

  “You know my name,” she ground out. “Liam Ruby.”

  “That’s just their name for you,” Summer said, deliberately making eye contact. “I mean a name that’s yours.”

  The girl stared at her with wide eyes; Summer held her gaze steadily. Finally, after a long moment, the girl whispered, “Jennifer.”

  The sponsors watching in the security room must be losing their shit right now.

  “Jennifer. Good.” Summer reached down to touch her own stomach, feeling the velvety fabric of her dress. “If you check, Jennifer, you’ll find a lump in your belly right around here.”

  The girl looked down and touched the same spot, her green smock crinkling, and then swore and looked back up. “What the fuck? What did you do to me?!”

  “I injected an anti-androgen impnt.”

  Jennifer froze.

  “I was trying to control your libido; I thought that might improve your behavior. But if there’s another reason you want it…” Pause for dramatic effect. “Well, there can be more where that came from.” Hand on her hip to emphasize her figure. “And other things besides.“

  The girl bit her lip; Summer suppressed a smirk. Got her.

  “You can make your time here very, very easy for yourself, Jennifer,” Summer said. “If you cooperate. If you stop pretending to be the vicious, privileged man you’ve shown the world until today. But if you choose to act like Liam—” the girl’s deadname sounded like a curse in Summer’s mouth, “—I’ll have little choice but to treat you the way I’d treat him.”

  Summer paused for a moment; Jennifer stared right back at her.

  “I’ll give you some time to think it over. Sweet dreams, Jennifer.”

  * * *

  When Summer climbed back up to the security room, she found Maria, Tabby, and Indira all staring silently at the screen where Jennifer was gingerly feeling her belly again. Consensus chimed; none of them moved a muscle.

  “So,” Summer asked, “do you get some sort of bonus if your boy stops being a boy before she’s even finished induction?"

  * * *

  AnnouncementThe Summer scene is the result of a prompt from gayannabeth: “A sponsor is giving the usual toxic masculinity speech to her new intake, and is completely taken aback when they call her a TERF in response.”