The BLTS Archive - The Measure of a Man
Second in The Measure of A Man universe
by Francesca (mandelbrotset@my-deja.com)

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Archive: ASC/EM ok, anything else ask me first

Disclaimer:  All the characters, etc, here are Paramount's, though I
seriously doubt they considered these issues when they wrote
"Turnabout Intruder." :)

Serious angst, discussion of gender identity issues.

Notes:  This story springs out of a discussion on ASCEM about gender
identity and how Kirk would really deal if he was imprisoned in Janice
Lester's body long-term.  I want to dedicate it to Isla, whose story
"Adaptation" gave me the idea for this.  This story attempts to really
deal with the issues inherent in being in a body that your mind tells
you is the *wrong* one, so it may be kind of heavy -- take note,
please. Hopefully it's good, though. :)  Thanks to Isla for betaing!

One final thing: I've done some research on being transgendered, so I
hope I'm at least moderately accurate regarding the experience...
however, I don't pretend to know any of this firsthand, so any errors
or oversights are mine alone and not intended to offend or hurt
anyone.

---

I can't do this anymore.

I lay my head against the smooth clearsteel of the observation lounge
window, as if doing so will let me absorb the calm of the stars
outside.  I know it's a futile hope before I even complete the 
gesture; my mind is too jumbled to be eased by a few inches of cold
glass against my forehead.

It doesn't matter.  I'm so tired; tired of being confused, tired of
thinking in circles, tired of solicitious, supportive glances and
awkward, helpless questions.  So tired of spending every last ounce of
energy proving -- to myself, to everyone -- that I am the same person
I once was.

*Am* I the same person I once was?  Who is that person, anyway?

At first I didn't even wonder.  I was so worried about my ship and
getting Spock to believe in mm that I didn't even contemplate anything
else.  I just ... powered through like I always do, hoping it would
turn out in the end.  Adrenaline is good for that.

Even when it first began to look like I might be stuck in this body
for a while, I just thought I'd try to approach it as a challenge.  A
challenge to see how the other half lives.  A challenge to see how
much of *me* depends on my body.  A challenge to get my old body back.

Well, I now see what a complete and utter fool I was.  I feel,
literally, like I'm going insane.  After all this time, my mind is
still denying the evidence of my senses, still insisting that despite
all outward evidence, I am *not* a woman, and I don't know how much
more of it I can take.

It's silly, but pissing is the worst part of this whole mess.
Whenever I go to the head, I grab for the cock that isn't there.  And
always -- always -- I feel a sharp stab of almost physical grief as
soon as I realize it's gone.  Yes, grief; I'm in mourning for the
James Kirk that was.  Every fucking time I go to the head, I'm
mourning once again.  I almost asked Bones for a catheter so I don't
have to piss anymore, but damned if I'm going to do that.  Not that he
would give me one anyway.  I will face this situation like a man.

Hah.  I can't believe I just thought that.  But I don't think I can
see myself in any other way except *as* a man.  Now that it's
beginning to look like it might be permanent, I've been trying to
adapt.  But how?  How do I make myself into someone I'm not?

I'm reminded of it in everything I do.  When I speak, I hear a velvet
contralto and wonder who is talking.  When I get out of bed in the
morning and it takes me just a bit longer to hit the floor, I am
surprised every time, even after all this time.  When I walk towards a
mirror I wonder who this woman is with the odd mannish stride and
blazing blue eyes.  And where is Jim Kirk?  Where am I?

Thank god for Spock throughout all of this.  I think I really *would*
be insane without him and his certainty in me.  When I came to him
that first night, I just wanted to be held, to feel his hands on my
skin and in all the secret places of my mind.  Our lovemaking was slow
but oddly desperate, as if we both needed the reassurance of who I was
but both of us weren't sure we would find it.  And oh, it was good, so
good to be in his arms and hear him whisper "Jim" like an affirmation
in my ear and feel him moving next to me.

But at the same time it was still all different.  I could detect his
controlled hesitation every time he touched me.  And I could feel it
in myself, too: wanting him to touch but not wanting him to, because
it wasn't me.  Wanting to touch him but not wanting him to, because he
felt different; his body heavier on mine, coarser somehow through
these slender new fingers I had.  Wanting to be taken but wanting to
take him too and knowing I never could.  Wanting to orgasm with him
inside me but *not* wanting to, because even that feels different...
more diffuse and spread, not centered in one place.  Dammit, even my
pleasure is no longer mine.

Bones says my feelings of alienation are natural given my situation.
I suppose so, and I suppose to some extent I would feel the same thing
even if I were in a male body.  It still wouldn't be *me*.  But I
wouldn't be reminded of it with every damned move I made, either.

I guess there's at least one good thing to come out of this whole
mess.  More than ever, I realize what a damned good crew I have.  I 
can tell some of them don't know quite what to make of me, and many of 
our interactions are still a little "off", but I know they will follow 
me to hell and back if I ask for it.  I remember the first time I came 
on the bridge after announcing that my "condition" might be more
permanent than we initially expected.  I came out of the turbolift
braced to see uncertainty, fear, dismay; but when all eyes riveted on
me, all I could see was sympathy, support, and loyalty.  Uhura smiled
and said, "We're all behind you, Sir" and those simple words made a
sudden lump rise in my throat.

Thank you for your support.  Thank you for staying behind me.  *Thank
you for calling me Sir.*

That's who I am, I guess.  Captain of the Enterprise.  Even if Command
takes away the name of "Captain" -- which they might -- that's still
who I will be at heart.  That's something no one can take away. 
Captain of the Enterprise, blessed with the best damn crew in the
galaxy, proud friend of Bones McCoy, and bondmate to Spock of Vulcan.
That is still who I am.

I look down at the feminine legs below me, the fine-boned hands in
front of me, and hope to God I remember that.  Right now I am going to
go to my quarters and ask Spock to meld with me.  I need to be in the
one place I feel safest, where my body doesn't matter: in Spock's mind
and arms. We will love each other, only in our minds, until I can face
being in this body again.

Then we will make plans.  I can't meld with Spock forever, much as I
would like to right now.  There must be *something* we can do.  There
are always possibilities, after all.  Some way to get my old body
back. Surgery, if need be; anything but this.

Regardless, I won't let it beat me.  After all, I *am* Captain of the
Enterprise -- aren't I?

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The End