Work Text:
The mirror reflected an ugly scene, her shoulderblades were still red and throbbing from the removal, it still ached horribly and just putting on clothes hurt, sure she was donating for the greater good of humanity, but at what cost? The weight of such a secret was enough to replace the comforting weight of her wings, but instead of the warmth and familiarity she yearned for, it was cold and frightening. If the public was to find out about this—
They wouldn't, and if they did she’d make sure to cover it up instantly, she had connections that stretched across the country, there shouldn't be a high chance of this spreading to the world.
Naomi bit her lip as she slipped on her clothes, the nerves wracking in her system and the bandages doing nothing. She’s gonna need more painkillers.
—
The crowed cheered politely as she stepped up onto the stage, the lights blinding her and her back still giving her the sensation that she was burning, the painkillers wore off not too long ago, and she couldn't find any more, so she’s going to have to just try and fake it until she made it.
She did her best to carry on her talk, pulling stuff from memory, something about aerodynamics and its history, and how the study is important to her line of work. On a normal talk she would bring her wings and use them for example, but on rainy days like today she can hide her “wings” under a cloak. She was lucky today was a rainy day, that way people didn't get all too suspicious that she was using a cloak in the first place, they're a good way to keep wings safe from the downpour.
And a good way to lie, under the right circumstances.
The only other person that truly knows about her removal is her father—who convinced her into agreeing, she had already been contemplating it, and his words were the final push. The doctor who executed the procedure did not know who she was, and probably just assumed she was another haffing who was trying to blend in, and she preferred to keep it that way.
That was the plan. At least until she fell, slipping down the stairs off the stage and landing right on her back. She could have sworn she saw the totality of space from that hit. She might have screamed but she wasn't sure. After a moment she managed to control her breathing to see her father staring down at her, an odd look in his eyes and he offered a hand to help her up.
In the back of her mind she knew it was a bad idea, but she could barely pick herself up and her dignity was hurt, she needed to compose herself. Now.
The moment she was on her feet a cold feeling dropped to her stomach.
Her cloak. Was. Gone.
Where wings should have been, large, pristine, and powerful, lay nothing. Her back bare and empty, it was like looking at someone who was missing their eyes. Something felt so off seeing her without them.
The audience gasped and murmured, and Naomi Philomena realized one thing: Nothing can be erased from the public. People all knew now. The news would get around about how the worlds most famous prodigy, the one who helped solve the conflict between humans and haffings, the one who tried to bring light to her kind.. Had removed what gave her identity. The very thing that brought her up the ranks. Gone. It was humiliating, but when she turned to her father for help, he merely smiled at her.
“This is for the best, my dear.” His face seemed to say. She was going to have a long talk with him once home.
For now she attempted damage control, her voice wavering as she created some half ass lie about this being fake—a test to see how people would react—all for the science. And people reluctantly believed, though it was hard to believe. She made it work. She always will.
—
“What the fuck was that?!” She shouted at her father the moment their front doors shut.
He stood there, back facing her, shoulders straight and tense. They both knew her cloak falling was no accident. He had some reason for it, and she didnt enjoy being kept in the dark, especially for something like that.
“I thought we agreed to not tell anyone until later on! When the wounds healed!”
“Yes. We did.” He said quietly.
“Then riddle me this father: why did you remove my cloak at the convention today?” SHe said, her voice dropping a couple degrees.
The room fell into a tense silence, but only for a moment before her father began to speak.
“The plan has changed. The future has a new outcome, I needed to make a last minute adjustment to our plan.” He said, his voice tight. “I needed you-”
At that Naomi's mind shut off. Those words played such a vile record in her mind, it made her believe her father was in the right. She was needed. She was wanted. She knew thats not how it worked. It didnt stop the feeling from spreading. Like a germ infesting her very bones, those words echoing in her skull.
I needed you.
I needed you.
I NEEDED YOU.
I. NEEDED. YOU.
The next thing she knew, she had been pacing her room. She was shaking. Why couldn't she fight back? Why did those three simple words cause such an effect on her? Even after all these years? The blooming feeling in her insides were long gone—now replaced with shame and disgust.
She bit into her cheeks, drawing blood as she pulled out her whiteboard, staring at the math and the brainstorming in the corner. Her fathers plan was genius, it would change the world. She was willing to help with his cause, but she never agreed to public humiliation. Her image was now ruined. She couldn’t get herself to look at the news in the morning, seeing her name on the headline was enough. Her father read it though, and only smiled in satisfaction, knowing his plan was going accordingly, the future meticulously watched and planned out by him, he knew what would happen and what was the best action to take.
It made her want to violently throw up.
So she was left with one option. She had to bear with it. Live on like it never happened, when news reporters asked about “The Incident”, she just ignored them, and spent sleepless nights pulling strings so it could be as erased as she could get it to be.
She was so close.