Work Text:
Scars
“You okay, Gabs?” Tracey called through the locked bathroom door for what must have been the third time in an hour.
“I think I need to change again,” Gabrielle’s voice returned after a moment.
Tracey suppressed a groan. This would be the fifth time in an hour. “I thought that was your favorite skirt?”
“It is , but I don't have a shirt to wear with it!”
He knew that wasn't true. She had already tried two, and they had been fine – up until she suddenly declared ten minutes later that she needed a different one. “What’s wrong with this one, Gabs?”
A loud groan came from beyond the door. “You wouldn't get it.”
This was probably true. She was still trying to find her style and sometimes struggled to see her undoubtedly feminine appearance. It hadn’t been that long since starting hormones and she was still learning to be comfortable in her own skin again. Tracey couldn’t relate to any of that, but he also couldn’t relate to being transgender and that had never stopped him from lending a helping hand and all the support he possibly could.
“Maybe not, but that doesn't mean I can't try to help.”
Silence followed for a long moment before the door slowly creaked open.
The outfit looked perfectly fine, but so had the last five she had tried. The skirt in question was a flowy, knee-length dark purple. It was paired with a black top with sleeves that reached her elbows and, wow , she had gotten good with the eyeliner. Crisp black lines accented her eyes, paired with dark eyeshadow that made the bright green of her eyes pop brilliantly.
“Gabs, you look beautiful,” Tracey assured her.
“Thanks, but that's not the problem.”
The confidence with which she had said it was reassuring, but that didn’t answer Tracey’s question. “So then, what is the problem?”
Gabrielle stayed quiet long enough that Tracey was certain he would have to pry. “It's the sleeves,” she finally said quietly.
“What’s wrong with the sleeves?” It seemed an odd thing to be so anxious over.
Silence again. Her gaze dropped away and Tracey gave her a moment of space. He was about to press a little more when she finally replied, “They're not long enough.”
That struck Tracey as odd for a few seconds longer than it should have. It was the middle of summer… but he'd also seen her in the hospital when she'd stopped seeing a feasible future as Gary. His gaze dropped down to her arms, which he could hardly see with her holding her hands behind her back. He didn’t need to see the scars to remember what they looked like.
Long. Vivid. Painful to look at, even more so to consider what they meant. The thought of how close he'd come to losing someone akin to a younger sibling stabbed at his heart every time and this was no different. They were painful to her too, he knew.
“Gabrielle…” he breathed, unsure what to say. Instead of saying anything, he pulled her into a tight hug. “None of us judge you for what you did.” They'd had enough late night discussions for Tracey to know her thoughts – and fears – on this.
“I know that, but it's different when there's people other than you and Grandpa.”
It was her first time back in Pallet after starting hormones, after coming out… after the scars on her wrists had come to be.
“No one judges you, no one is ashamed of you – if anything, we’re all proud of you.”
“You mean it?”
“I really mean it,” Tracey replied earnestly. “You went through a really hard time but you got through it and now you can finally be you . It’s brave to be yourself when it involves so much work but you’re doing it… Why wouldn’t we be proud of you?”
She lowered her gaze but not before Tracey caught a glimpse of the flurry of emotions that crossed over her face. Surprise and disbelief, realization and acceptance, and finally a quiet gratitude. Then, just like that, the confident smirk was there as though she'd never doubted herself.
“I guess when you put it that way…”
Tracey snorted amusedly and shook his head. There was his little sister. It was nice to see that confidence again, but he knew they weren't done here yet. She still had to finish getting ready for the day's outing.
“It's okay to be nervous, Gabs, but here's the thing: you're just getting lunch with Chloe—”
“And shopping.”
“Getting lunch and going shopping,” Tracey amended. “You've known Chloe forever, you're both professor's kids, remember?” She cracked a smile at that and Tracey took that as a win. “She's not gonna judge you, Gabs.” Surely the girls had established that sometime during all of the long phone conversations they'd been having ever since Gabrielle had come out. “It'll be fine, I promise.”
A flicker of doubt reappeared in her eyes. It was a sight that Tracey had grown used to seeing – she'd had to relearn how to move through the world after coming out. Girls were treated differently – especially when they had long scars up their forearms – and it had made her question everything since. Hopefully a few more trips out with Chloe would cure that.
“I'm worrying over nothing again, aren't I?” she asked.
Tracey shook his head. “Being worried about what a friend will think about something big in your life is valid, Gabs,” he assured her. “It's not worrying over nothing , it's just maybe not entirely necessary with Chloe. She's dealt with Ash and Goh together, at the same time. This ,” he gestured to Gabrielle’s arms, “is far from the worst thing she's ever dealt with.”
That earned a small laugh. “I guess you’re right.”
“Aren't I always?”
Another little laugh. “Now I know you’re spending too much time with me.”
“Now I know you’re feeling better,” Tracey countered. “Don’t worry about your scars, okay? No one who matters is going to think worse of you, especially not Chloe, but if anything goes wrong, just call me and I’ll come get you.”
“Thanks, Trace.”
“What are big brothers for?”