Chapter Text
Janet and Jack Drake were archaeologists and they spent most of their time not at home and not running their company. Jack’s younger half-brother acted as his proxy and he had a much better head for business as it was. And the man was a medical guiness, he had brought so very many patents to the table, it was just wonderful.
They had figured they would pass the business to whichever child Edward had, but then Jack’s vasectomy had failed and Edward had admitted he had very little interest in romantic relationships or children and suddenly the company was going to go to the bouncing bundle of joy known as Elenore Jackquline Drake.
They continued to do their archaeology until Janet was five months pregnant, at which point they returned to the United States and stayed there until Elenore was sixteen months old.
Until she was four, Elenore grew up on dig sites and in labs where computers mapped ancient ruins. Her earliest memories were of her parents discussing which of the places mentioned in historical documents the Pictish site they were studying likely was. If any.
When she started kindergarten, five and a quarter years old, her uncle was the one to pick her up and drop her off. Edward still had very little interest in having his own kids, but he was happy to play a third parent while his brother and sister-in-law were off exploring the world and its history.
They called every day they had enough connection for it to connect and spent an hour listening to their daughter recount her day and another hour taking to Edward, about Elenore and about their company and his medical inventions.
Elenore was a smart child, who got herself into trouble just as often as she made her parents proud.
Janet was watching her seven year old daughter sketch a flower she’d seen in the garden earlier and chatting on about nothing.
It was good to be home and to be able to hug her child and relax.
Janet had been in the middle of explaining the significance of the layout of colonial South American cities as a tool of oppression and imperial power - they’d been looking at a old cathedral and Elenore was interested in hearing about it - when Elenore cut her off, mid sentence.
“Mother, I don’t want my name to be Elenore anymore.”
Janet took a moment to consider that. “Well. There are so many nicknames that could come from Elenore. El, Ellie, Nora. Why don’t we try them out to see if one of them feels right?”
El-- her daughter shook her head. “No. I don’t want a nickname. I want-- I want not a girl’s name.” She’d stopped her scribbling to watch her mother carefully.
“Oh? Is there any particular reason for that?”
Janet’s daughter wrinkled her nose. “I’m not… I don’t think I’m a girl.”
Janet remembered her own days in elementary school. She’d been a young lady but she’d also been head strong and more than once she’d been likened to her male peers.
Janet’s child did not like girly things. She preferred pants over skirts and dresses and Edward had gotten more than one call from teachers about her child having a tendency to roll in the dirt during recess. Their favorite color was green. Not pink, not purple, not even teal. Green. Janet’s child was not girly
“Why don’t you think you’re a girl?”
Her child shrugged, going back to her art. “I don’t know. I just don’t think I am one.”
Janet frowned. “Are the other kids at school saying you can’t be a girl?”
Her child gave her a disgusted look. “No? Aggie’s my best friend and she’s just like me. I just don’t feel like a girl. Like-- like-- when Grandma got me that sweater that was too big and itched. It’s not horrible but it’s not right either.”
Janet exhaled slowly. “Okay. So do you think you’re-- Do you feel like a boy?”
Her child pursed their lips. “I don’t know. I don’t not feel like a boy. But then I think about the boys at school and their just annoying jerks. Archie’s alright, but the other boys don’t like him very much.”
Janet had spoken to Archibald’s parents once or twice at a function. It was much more than not liking the boy, it was bullying. Janet was infinitely proud of her child for doing the right thing.
“You know, you don’t have to be a boy like the boys at school to be a boy. Think about Uncle Edward or your Father. Are they anything like those boys?”
Her child shook their head. “Uncle Eddie would eat Jackson for breakfast.”
“Exactly. If you were a boy like them, do you think that would be right?”
Janet’s child took a moment to consider that. “I think so? Maybe. I can’t give you a proper answer without more time to gather data.” Janet considered, briefly, that her child was spending too much time with Edward.
“So if you were to pick a new name, would you want a boy’s name?”
Her child shrugged. “It’d be better than Elenore. But I want you and Father to pick out a new name.”
“You… wish for us to pick out a name?”
“Name’s come from mommies and daddies,” her child sounded like they were quoting something. “So you two should be the ones to select a new name for me. It’s why I told you.”
Janet nodded to herself. “Alright. I’ll talk it over with your father.”
And from there, Timothy Jackson Drake was born. They both assured him he could pick a new name or go back to Elenore if he wanted. He never did.