Chapter Text
It started, as most of TimeKeeper’s “jokes” did, with a flash and a little laugh.
“Consider this… a field trip,” TimeKeeper said briefly to Alchemist and Brute who were having a lazy evening in the lab before disappearing.
Before Alchemist could curse her, the air grew thick with smoke and brass music.
When the dizziness faded, she was standing beside Brute on a cobblestone street under a flickering sign:
The Sugar Glass.
“...No,” Alchemist breathed. “She wouldn’t.”
Brute turned taking in the sights. “Where are we?”
Alchemist’s jaw tightened. “My past.”
Of course they weren’t really there, that much was clear when a passing couple walked straight through them. More like ghosts, observers.
Inside the club, a band played something wild and sweet. Laughter clung to the air like perfume. Alchemist pressed a hand to the window.
And there she was.
A much younger Alchemist, fully human. Her hair was cropped with small curls, a feathered headband that matched her sequined dress. She was trying on a pair of long gloves, smiling nervously at her reflection.
Brute blinked, taken aback. “That’s you?”
Alchemist groaned, her cheeks becoming an embarrassed red. “Don’t say it like that.”
“You look—”
“Different, yes, I’m aware.” She crossed her arms. “No lab coat. No scars. Just… some girl trying not to smudge her lipstick before curtain call.”
Brute glanced through the window again. “You were beautiful.”
Alchemist’s mouth twitched. “You’re not helping.”
They watched as the younger Alchemist joined a few other dancers near the stage. She laughed at something one of them whispered, the sound high and unguarded, the kind of laugh that belonged to someone who was young and had never been hurt.
Alchemist shifted uncomfortably. “This was before I made anything of myself,” she said. “Before science. Before… everything else. Back then, the only kind of job for girls like me was the kind that looked good in dim lighting.”
Brute’s tone softened. “You mean—”
“Yes.” Alchemist cut her off gently.
“Trans women weren’t exactly welcomed in laboratories. Not that I liked science as much backed then anyways.”
There was no bitterness in her voice this time, just matter-of-fact distance.
The younger Alchemist twirled under the stage lights, the fringe of her dress catching gold. Her smile wobbled only when she thought no one was looking.
“You looked nervous,” Brute said.
“I was.” Alchemist’s gaze lingered.
“Every night, I’d tell myself I’d made peace with who I was. And every night, I’d still look over my shoulder, waiting for someone to call me a fraud.”
She caught Brute’s eyes then, and quickly looked away with an embarrassed laugh. “And I can’t believe you’re seeing this. I thought I’d buried this part of myself.”
Brute tilted her head. “Why? She’s part of you.”
“That’s exactly the problem.”
Alchemist’s cheeks flushed. “That girl with her cheap perfume and her shaking hands, she just wanted to be loved, it didn’t matter who the people were or what their intentions were with her. I’ve spent centuries pretending I’ve outgrown her.”
Brute didn’t say anything for a while. Just stood beside her, both of them bathed in the soft glow of the club lights.
Finally, Brute murmured, “She’d be proud of what you became.”
Alchemist gave a small, crooked smile. “You’re terribly sentimental, you know that?”
“Maybe,” Brute said. “But you smiled when you saw her dance.”