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She checked herself in the mirror.
The new costume was on its sixth set of revisions. Good wasn’t good enough. It needed to be perfect.
She’d rejected the first two designs at the blueprint stage. She was not turning her theme into princess.
Three had piqued her interest, and yet still sacrificed too much function for glamour.
The less said about four, the better.
With five, she’d finally started to feel as if she was getting somewhere, and that the designers were pulling with her rather than at cross purposes.
As for six…
She studied herself in the mirror.
Keeping the knight look was important. She was proud of who she was as a hero, and had no intention of giving that up. Women could be knights, too. On the other hand, even in retaining the armour, there was so much more that could be done.
They’d shifted the colour emphasis from functional gunmetal to white silver, which would be hell to keep clean but a sight to behold in action. Her gauntlets now had a subtle flare at the wrists, softening the profile to more resemble regal gloves. The pauldrons had been slimmed down, deemphasising her shoulders, as well as now providing the mooring place for the long white cape trailing down her back, trimmed with gold. The design across the armour’s chest piece was still a stencil rather than the etching it would eventually become, but she could see every proud line of the roaring bear emblazoned there.
The bear had drawn some questions, not least because she’d dismissed a suggestion of continuing the motif with her helmet design. She’d told them that bears were fierce and strong, known for defending their young with all their might. It was a symbol of protection.
Image had conceded the point and agreed that they could emphasise that theme in their press releases. When she wanted to be, she was exceedingly persuasive, and the costume was non-negotiable.
She watched herself in the mirror.
No helmet yet. The helmet was proving to be the final point of contention, and far from an easy one to resolve. A full-face helm in the same style as her previous one was the obvious choice, offering the most protective value and anonymity. Yet, she found herself pulling away from it instinctively. Something in her rankled at the thought, gnawing away at her with the notion that retaining that same element of her old costume would reduce all of this to a simple redesign. She needed this to be more, not just for her, but for everyone around her. She needed them to see, to know, to have no doubt in their minds.
The determination showed on her face. In the set of her jaw. The fierceness in her eyes.
She reached out and touched the mirror, seeing and feeling the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. She wasn’t flawless, but she was making progress. You couldn’t design a person like you designed a costume. It had taken a while for her to learn to cut herself some slack. Each day a little closer to who she wanted to be. A little longer for the medication, a little more confident, a little better with the makeup.
Her gaze flicked to the crooked wing she’d attempted on her right eye. Well, she still had time. And Victoria’s help. How much further back would she be without Victoria’s help?
She thought about the helmet again. She looked at her smile again. She shifted her hand on the glass, and then added the other to frame her own reflection. A half-face helm. That could work. No, it would work.
She beamed to herself in the mirror.
-
She’d tried Diana for a week or so, and it hadn’t sat comfortably with her at all. She knew that a lot of people like her preferred the simple switchover if their name had a more traditionally masculine or feminine variation, but it’d felt too much like she was compromising for other people than because she liked the name. Between that and her concerns over how easy it would be to slip up and say the old name instead, Diana hadn’t lasted long.
Next, she’d gone for Laura, what her parents would have called her if—well, yeah. That had been okay enough, but she’d grown conflicted whether good enough was… good enough? This was her, permanently. She worried sometimes—often—if she was too much of a people pleaser, and picking something that didn’t really resonate with her for her parents’ sake was exactly that. She’d started using that name with some select friends for a while, so that was a bit of a gear shift, and everyone had taken some time to adapt. In the end, though, it was worthwhile for the warmth blossoming from her chest whenever anyone called her—
“T? You in here?”
...Therese, but Victoria was allowed to use a pet name.
“Yeah, come on in.”
The bedroom door opened, and Victoria slipped inside, lighting up the second she laid eyes on her seated in front of her dresser.
“Ooh, I didn’t realise you were playing with your hair!”
Therese paused mid-brush. She was still growing it out, just tickling her jawline, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about the riotous curls. At the right moment, at the right angle, she saw a very cute girl. At the wrong moment, she was looking at a member of a boyband. “Yeah. I don’t know. I’m trying to see if I like it any better with a side parting but…” She tilted her head one way, and then the other. “No, kind of hate it.”
“That’s okay.” Victoria slipped behind her, gently placing a hand on each shoulder. Therese watched her in the mirror. “You’re allowed to try different things.”
“What if I don’t like any of them?” she mumbled.
“Heyy. We’ve done at least a couple of styles you do like. Nobody loves everything. Remember all those times I’d text you with a look I’d hit on and ten minutes later start wailing because I was such a horrible unlovable ghoul?”
Therese breathed a short ‘ha’. “You could never be a ghoul.”
“That’s not the point. What I’m getting at is that you don’t need to feel alone in having hang-ups, you know?”
“I guess so.” Therese watched Victoria in the mirror. Reflections prevented her power from working properly, so instead of the swirling writhe of colourful emotions, all she saw was an expression of pensive concern. As much as the urge to know itched at the back of Therese’s skull, she preferred it this way. Interpreting Victoria’s feelings in the slight twitch of her lips, the way her head tilted to the side, the gentle tapping of her index fingers upon Therese’s shoulders. She could find comfort in uncertainty.
“If it helps, I really love these curls of yours. I had no idea your hair would do that!” Victoria ran a couple of fingers through Therese’s hair, adjusting how it was sitting. “I think they’re super cute, suit you really well, and would probably be absolutely gorgeous if you grew them out.”
“...Maybe.” Therese tipped her head. Her fringe fell all the way to the left, exposing her hairline. She flinched. “But I don’t know. I might hate that too, and I don’t really know how to take care of long hair anyway, and—”
“Babe. I’ll show you. Or you could watch tutorials if you don’t want to do it with me, and heck, it’s just hair; you can cut it again.”
Therese took a deep breath and nodded. “You’re right. You’re right. Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Easier said than done, but Therese nodded again. “The thoughts just like to crawl around my head, you know? Keep thinking there’s no way I can pass, that I’ll always be—” She swallowed. “You know.”
“Hey…” Victoria leaned forwards and hugged her briefly. “You’ve got a lot going for you. That’s probably harder for you to see than me but, it’s true. Even when you were only out to me, some of those looks you were trying? You were a certified cutie. And when you start all your meds…”
“I’ve only had blockers for a little while, the others will take way longer to kick in. I just—hormones aren’t miracle cures.”
“Amy coul—”
“I’m not asking Amy.” She didn’t like Therese. At all. The last thing Amy needed was more pressure on her shoulders, especially when Therese didn’t doubt that Victoria would cajole her until she caved. Therese had no idea what Amy’s problems were, but she refused to add to them.
Victoria puffed her cheeks out in exasperation. “Fiiiine.”
Therese carefully teased her fringe back into place. It wouldn’t settle how it had previously. She exhaled heavily.
“So you ready for the big day?”
Therese thought about the costume and broke into a slender smile. “I think so. I have all my notes prepared. Thank you for the research, by the way.”
Victoria beamed. “Anytime. Cape re-debuts are a great topic. I learned a lot, and I got to help you, that’s what I call a win-win”
“I pretty much rewrote the speech from scratch after you sent me the info.”
“I wish you’d let me read the dang thing,” Victoria said with a sigh. “I’m a good proof-reader.”
Resisting the urge to peek back over her shoulder for a glimpse of emotions, Therese nodded. “Yeah, I know, it’s just that it’s really personal. If that means it comes out kind of clumsily, then I’ll sound a little clumsy. I’m tired of everything being so curated. I want to speak from the heart.”
“Mm, alright, I get it. How’d you manage to get that past the PR guys, anyway? I thought they were done with giving Wards free rein over pressers since Clockblocker… Clockblocked.”
“I offered a lot of assurances and Armsmaster vouched for my good behaviour. I guess being a knight in shining armour has its perks.”
“If only they knew.”
“Hey. Mean.”
“I’m just kidding.”
“I know.” Therese paused. “Vicky?”
“Mm?”
“Since I started with all… this, I think it’s the longest we’ve gone steady. I don’t know what I would have done without you. Thank you.”
The corner of Victoria’s mouth twitched up. “Well, it turns out that when everything’s out in the open, and I don’t get frustrated and say stupid things that I don’t really mean, then all of a sudden we’re both talking about our feelings a lot more. Somehow that leads to us not breaking up every three months. Weird, huh?”
Therese managed a laugh. “Fair. All fair.”
Victoria squeezed her shoulders then stepped back, tugging Therese’s sleeve. “Come on. This is enough staring at the mirror for one day. I’m taking you out, Miss Stansfield.”
“Little extreme.”
“Oh haha. Let’s go catch a movie and then get ice cream.”
“Okay.” Therese rose and turned. She looked at Victoria— affection-worry-gratitude —and offered a smile. “Love you, Vicky.”
“Love you too. Let’s watch a bad movie.”
Therese laughed. Victoria tapped her on the nose and then left the room.
Therese looked around the room, closed her eyes, blew out a breath, reopened them.
One step at a time.
-
“Gallant, are you ready?”
“Uh, one second.” She wrestled her trembling hands under control and fumbled her helmet onto her head. The visor fit comfortably to her eyes, cheeks, and nose, leaving her lower face exposed. She stood up from her bench in the tiny changing room, a sealed box the PRT rolled out for privacy before conferences. “Yeah I—I think I’m good.”
“All right. Come on out.”
She disengaged the lock and exited. Armsmaster stood outside alongside a glossy PRT liaison.
“Gallant,” said Armsmaster. “...The new costume suits you. Stay focused up there, and you’ll do fine.”
“Thanks.”
He nodded, then inclined his head towards the liaison, who chirped to life like a robot.
“All right, Miss Gallant! If you’ll just head up those stairs and then walk to the centre of the stage, you’ll be right in the middle of the curtain. Your cue is when the director says ‘and now I’d like to reintroduce a member of the Brockton Bay Wards’. Are you with me?”
She must have said yes, because somehow she found herself standing behind a heavy curtain. Beyond she could hear Director Piggot talking about Protectorate ENE, the community, the Wards team going through some changes. Others voices rose and fell beneath Piggot’s. Seemed like the conference had drawn quite a buzz.
Piggot spoke the words.
Therese rapped her helmet with her knuckles, and walked forward.
There was a visible ripple in the crowd as she stepped onto the stage. The low murmuring hubbub redoubled. She swallowed her anxiety, willing her pounding heart to calm, and took slow, measured steps towards the microphone. The distance yawned open, a chasm. She felt herself begin to hurry, to try and bridge the gap sooner—
No. It was just a few steps. She kept her pace steady. She reached the stand. She took a steadying breath, just like she’d been taught. She could do this. She wanted to do this.
She spoke.
“Hi, everyone. It’s good to see all of you again.” Her voice sounded strong. Felt strong. She’d practiced. ”Sorry that I was away for a while. I missed you.
“You can probably tell that I’ve gone through some changes, more than just my costume, but I’d like to ask you all to think of this not as a new Gallant, but an authentic Gallant.
“I’m still the same person and the same hero that I used to be. This is me being honest to myself, and being honest to all of you. I don’t want to hide who I am. Who I’ve always been.
“So—uh—let me introduce myself.
“My name is Gallant. I’m a woman. I’m a trans woman. And I’d like everyone out there in Brockton Bay that might be in a similar situation to mine to know that… you’re not alone. There are others like you—like us.
“I’ve had a lot more luck in my life than most people, and I won’t say my experiences dealing with my identity are universal, or common. That said, I hope you can see me here and take something from that, whether it’s a little comfort, or strength or—” She swallowed. She blinked. Blinked again. No. She was okay. She could handle this. She was handling this. “Sorry, excuse me. Or learning more than you knew before. Oh and, just as a quick aside, there will be resources available after the conference, and we’ll also be hosting a few talks on LGBTQ+ topics over the next couple of weeks, happy Brockton Pride.” She hoped she didn’t imagine that the answering murmur was of approval. Too many emotions were awash in that crowd; she couldn’t concentrate on picking out individuals.
“On a personal level, I want to do more. I want us to do more.
“So, one more time, I’m still Gallant and I’m not going anywhere. This is me.
“Thank you. Have a great day.”
Gallant strode off the stage, holding her head high.