Life and Love are far more complicated than we can possibly understand. For one young cop, a journey of self-discovery will teach them that true strength was inside them all along.

A Double Whammy this week... Chapters Six and Seven are importantly linked to the story, so I felt you'd enjoy them both together! This is where things get big!

Harry yawned into his coffee and stretched. It seemed as though emotional turmoil was as exhausting as physical exercise, and he’d been through both in the past twenty four hours. He felt extremely out of place in his uniform that morning after he’d finally made it to work. When his mind flickered back to the night before, the memories almost seemed as though they had happened to a different person; perhaps he was truly losing his mind after all.

“You’re doing it again.” Kelly laughed as they walked out to the motor pool.

Harry glared at her and straightened his stride, “shut up.”

Anderson cackled to herself. “You’re getting worse, girl. I don’t know how long you’re going to be able to hide things now the cat is out of the bag.”

“I don’t need to hear it, Kelly. My head is already all over the place as it stands.”

“Well get your head in gear or you’re going to start rumors,” Kelly chuckled. “Work time.”

Most of their morning was thankfully boring and uneventful. They were dispatched to a burglary and handled a couple of traffic stops with little fanfare. When midday arrived, they were parked up at a fast food stand to grab lunch.

Harry placed their order once they reached the front of the queue. “Two pulled pork Burritos.”

“Coming right up, senoritas.” the older Hispanic man replied cheerfully as he set about preparing their food.

Harry was going to comment but Anderson elbowed him in the ribs. He rolled his eyes and waited silently for their food. He kept his mouth closed until they received their lunch and got back to their car.

“That never used to happen before,” he sighed.

Kelly grinned at him past her burrito. “You’re spending more time as Olivia than Harry, it’s becoming second nature. That and your sex life has you all girly-girl.”

Harry was going to reply when their radio chirped. He glared at Kelly while he pulled up the call on their computer.

“One Adam Ninety-Three, Armed robbery in-progress, Bani Market, 591 South La Brea cross of South Market.”

“One Adam Ninety-Three, Dispatch, show us en route,” Harry responded as Kelly threw the car into gear.

Their lunch was forgotten as Dalton and Anderson switched focus to business as they roared away from the taco stand with lights and siren blazing. Harry drew his sidearm and checked that it was loaded as their dispatch relayed further details. Mentally, he ran through a list of checks as they raced to the scene of the robbery. “Think it’s going to be bad?”

Kelly shook her head, “no idea, we’ll see.”

They rolled to a stop outside the store, set into a strip of buildings off the main road and got out of the car with weapons drawn. Anderson looked across at Dalton and nodded. The pair moved up slowly, weapons raised, and approached the door. As they approached the door, they maneuvered to attempt to see inside. A man by the counter turned around and sprayed a submachine gun at the door. The glass erupted between them as both deputies flattened themselves against the building wall.

“Sheriff’s Department, drop the weapon!” Dalton yelled.

The man inside yelled something unintelligible and sprayed another burst in their direction.

Anderson was hurriedly calling for backup on the radio, her face a mask of anxiousness and resolve. Dalton glanced around the doorway and withdrew fast as more bullets flew.

“Clerk behind the counter, Bravo Mike, black hoodie, tech nine.”

Anderson nodded.

“I’ma fuckin’ shoot this fool, get out of here.” screamed the man.

“Look we just want to talk, let’s stop shooting ok?” Dalton yelled back. “Put it down and talk to me. Nobody needs to get shot.”

Anderson turned to her radio, “Barricaded suspect with hostage, roll us SWAT.”

Several cars began to arrive behind them and they were joined by additional deputies. Anderson began to fill in the new arrivals as Dalton continued to talk.

“Come on, let's not get anyone killed, we can solve this peacefully man. What’s your name?”

“I ain’t telling you my name.” screamed the gunman. “I wanna get out of here or I’m gonna smoke this fool.”

Harry shook his head at Kelly and nodded back behind them. “Ok,” he called. “We’re going to move back ok? Don’t hurt him, we’ll let you come out, you can get to your car alright?”

The deputies around the door began to withdraw to positions of cover behind their vehicles. Minutes passed before the store door began to move. A short Asian man was shoved forward while the gunman kept his weapon to the side of his head. The man was jumpy as all hell; his eyes darted everywhere in rapid succession. This guy was on the edge of losing it and Harry knew it. One false move, one car backfires, and the hostage is dead.

He tucked himself into the alley beside the building tighter hoping he would remain out of sight. The gunman was moving along the sidewalk in their direction towards the vehicle they assumed he’d arrived in; a dirty old Buick.

Deputies were behind him and more toward the intersection at the far side of the standoff. The man drew closer and Harry could see his fingers flexing on the gun in his hand. The dark metallic machine pistol was twitching against the clerk’s head.

The man was barely ten feet from the alley and approaching his car when the clerk made a terrible decision. Time slowed down as the little old man elbowed the shooter and tried to run as his fight or flight instinct kicked in at the worst possible moment. Harry watched the shooter stumble and then begin to raise the weapon toward the clerk’s fleeing form. He didn’t think, he launched himself from the alley and dove at the shooter. The man squeezed the trigger as Harry connected and a burst of fire scattered uselessly into the sidewalk as he stumbled backward.

Harry heard yelling and screaming voices as though he were underwater as he wrestled the man for the gun. Everything within him seemed laser-focused on accomplishing that single act. The man fought him, he was stronger by a good measure. Adrenaline and muscle revolted at his efforts to contain the deadly device.

Harry struck the suspect in the face several times with his free hand as he tried to control his weapon hand. The man flexed and moved to throw off his balance. The gun moved and Harry brought his weight down on the arm as best he could. The gun went off. Its sound was deafening in close proximity even though it was wedged between their bodies. He felt a stabbing pain in his lower body as the man’s arm overcorrected from his resistance. White pain flooded Harry’s body as his mind tried to process that he’d been shot. He could barely focus as he convulsed in pain. With the last of his strength, he brought up his free hand and punched the man in the temple with everything he had.

The man went limp and the weapon arm relaxed. Harry rolled off the suspect and lay on the sidewalk, his body feeling suddenly extremely cold. He looked down, his green uniform trousers were dark red from the knees up.

Kelly appeared above him, a look of fear and panic etched into her features. She was yelling at him, but it was dull, murky, and distant.

“I don’t want to die,” she whispered as the world turned black around her.

Harry awoke slowly. His body ached in a dull, expansive way he could barely describe through the fog in his mind. The first thing he was able to recall was the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor somewhere nearby. As his vision swam into focus, he began to make out the ubiquitous furniture and fittings of a hospital room around him.

He tried to raise his head and found it far heavier than he remembered. His body felt like it was full of lead and his muscles would barely cooperate. The movement gained the attention of Richard who had been sitting beside his bed.

“Hey, it’s ok, don’t panic, you’re in the hospital.” he whispered soothingly, brushing the hair from his eyes.

“What happened?” Harry managed to croak dryly.

“I need to get the nurse.” Richard explained as he stood, squeezing Harry’s hands. “I’ll be right back I promise.”

Harry watched dimly as he left the room in a hurry before returning moments later followed by a pair of nurses with Kelly Anderson trailing behind them.

“How are we feeling?” the first nurse asked.

Harry shook his head gently, “Not great,” he rasped.

The nurses ushered out Richard and Kelly before checking his dressings and taking readings from the various machines.

“When can I find out what happened?” He asked dryly, accepting a cup of ice chips from one of the nurses.

“A doctor will be through soon to see you honey,” she offered with an apologetic smile. “It’s best if they explain.”

The nurses finished up and elevated the head of the bed for him and made their exits allowing Richard and Kelly to return.

Richard sat down beside the bed and stroked his cheek. “I’m so glad you’re back with us, Kelly told me what you did you silly fool.”

Harry attempted to shrug but didn’t have the energy. “I was just doing my job, I screwed up is all.”

Kelly shook her head. “You’re getting a whole bunch of awards, some fuck up.”

Harry looked confused as Kelly held up her hand and started counting. “Medal of Valor, Line of Duty and Life Saving awards and a Purple Heart to boot.”

“Jesus.” Harry muttered. “It wasn’t a big deal, and I got myself shot too.”

Richard shook his head. “You dived at a gunman about to kill a hostage and subdued him single-handedly preventing loss of life and protecting your fellow officers.” he explained with admiration. “You are a hero.”

“I don’t feel like one.”

Kelly sat carefully on the edge of the bed. “I’d have gotten hit if he started spraying at that guy from the store. He was right between the shooter and me. I couldn’t get a clean shot nor could half the guys behind me. You saved my life, partner.”

As they were talking, a woman in her forties entered wearing a lab coat over a smart pantsuit. The doctor, Harry presumed.

“How are we feeling? I’m Doctor Miller,” she asked, consulting Harry’s chart. “My colleagues told me you were awake and I wanted to pop in and have a little chat about your condition.”

“Like I got shot I guess, the first time,” Harry muttered. “Can they stay?” he asked, glancing at Richard and Kelly.

The doctor nodded. “So as you’re aware, you were shot, but perhaps not how many times. You suffered six separate gunshot wounds to the pelvis and thighs resulting in significant hemorrhaging. You coded twice on the operating table, but we were able to stabilize the bleeding. One bullet nicked your femoral artery, and one broke your left femur. One was embedded in your right femur, but it remained intact. You suffered several flesh wounds and the final bullet did the most damage.”

The doctor looked uneasy for a moment. “Are you sure you want them to remain for this?”

Harry nodded, feeling a pang of nerves. “They’re both important to me, They should hear it too.”

Richard squeezed Harry’s hand.

“Well,” the doctor continued. “The final bullet perforated your scrotum and damaged your testicles. I’m afraid they were beyond saving. We had to surgically remove the remnants.”

Harry felt strangely numb. He knew this should be a major disaster for him, that the doctor expected this to be horrific news but he felt oddly calm.

“I’m alive though, and I can walk?” he asked quietly.

“We had to use plates to secure your femur and you still have the bullet embedded in your right but otherwise you will make a full recovery in time, aside from the obvious.”

“Are you ok?” Richard asked.

Harry looked between Richard and Kelly. Richard was deeply concerned, he looked almost afraid for Harry. Kelly on the other hand looked sick to her stomach.

“Yeah, I mean, I’m glad to be alive. I very nearly wasn’t. This is going to take some time to absorb, doctor.”

The doctor nodded. “You’ve been out for a couple of days, but you should be able to return home in a week or so depending on how well your wounds heal. You were quite lucky in many respects, your injuries should heal without major complications to your mobility. Other aspects though…” she trailed off. “May cause issues. I’m very sorry. I’ll give you some time to process this news.” she added, making her exit politely from the room.

Kelly punched the wall. “I’m so fucking sorry Harry.” she groaned, “I should have done something.”

“You couldn’t, you already said that.” Harry tried to comfort her. “It’s not your fault or anyone else.”

“How do you feel about this?” Richard asked softly.

Harry wasn’t sure. “I guess I get to be the terminator now, I contain metal parts.”

Richard smirked but his expression returned to one of serious concern.

Harry looked away for a moment before returning his gaze to Richard. “I don’t know yet. I’m so glad to be alive, I think I got off kinda lucky as she said. I will walk again and I can still work I hope. I will surf again but I’m just going to set off some metal detectors. The other part? God, I don’t know honestly. I wasn’t exactly the manliest guy before this and I’m not sure they were much use anyway; I was never going to father a child.” he admitted.

“Mother perhaps.” Kelly chuckled in an attempt to raise the mood.

Harry threw an ice chip at her, “I’m serious. It could be much worse really. Considering recent events, it’s not as though it will damage my masculinity; I never had much, if any.”

Richard squeezed his hand softly.

Harry looked him directly in his eyes. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to stick around, but I’m glad you were here when I woke up. I know this is a lot to heap on someone so early in a relationship. I’m sure you don’t need the baggage, it’s ok.”

Richard shook his head. “How can you even imagine that? I’m going nowhere baby.” he leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on Harry’s forehead. “Nearly losing you made me realize how much I love you.”

Harry swallowed. “You love me?”

Richard nodded. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Harry whispered, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I’m so happy you’re here.” he choked.

Richard hugged him gently and kissed him on the lips.

Their kiss was only broken by a gagging sound in the background. The pair looked up sheepishly at Kelly who was miming sticking her fingers down her throat. “God you guys are too fucking much, I’m going to hurl. Shot to shit and you still get your hallmark moment before me you bitch.”

Harry smiled. “You can get shot too if you want.”

The gunman saw him as he darted from the alleyway. Harry had misjudged the timing and the man started to turn toward him. The barrel of the machine pistol glinted in the sunlight as he stared down the muzzle of the brutal-looking weapon.

The gun barked and Harry felt the bullets striking him and he felt cold. There was blackness and suddenly he was falling.

Harry woke to find a nurse hovering above him, she was looking down with concern in her eyes. “Are you ok?” she asked softly.

Harry swallowed, he felt cold and his gown was clammy where it stuck to his skin. His breathing was heavy and his heart was hammering.

“I…” he began, glancing around. He was still in the hospital room. “I… bad dream.”

“It’s ok,” the nurse soothed. “You were screaming, I think you were having a nightmare. It’s perfectly normal after something this traumatic.”

She helped change his gown and sheets before giving him something to help him sleep. Chemical blackness took him quickly, but it was barely possible to call it restful.

The rest of the hospital stay passed incredibly slowly. Each day included a parade of visitors from members of the department, his few friends along with nurses and doctors. There were a couple more nightmares that plagued him during his stay but they began to fade with each day that passed. Each one was a variation of what could have gone wrong; in nearly every situation he died painfully.

After four days, the catheter was removed and Harry was encouraged to walk to the bathroom in his room. Even that short exertion was exhausting for him. He was soon able to shower with great care. His body felt strained and stiff and his thighs were a mask of red wounds, but being able to wash his hair was more refreshing than he realized. Feeling clean and wearing his own bed clothes made him feel significantly more comfortable.

Kelly had brought him needed supplies from home. She had jokingly included the nightdress that had been on his bed from the night before that fateful day but Harry hadn’t felt comfortable wearing it in his current appearance.

It was just after ten in the morning on a Friday when there was a knock at his door.

“Come in,” Harry called, pushing himself upright in the bed with only significant discomfort.

The door opened and a tall blonde woman in a Sheriff’s Department uniform entered cautiously, she appeared hesitant to disturb him.

“Deputy Dalton?” The woman asked.

Harry nodded, then recognized her, “Sheriff Reilly, Ma’am.”

The woman nodded and clasped her hands in front of her. “I hope I’m not disturbing you?”

Harry shook his head. “No Ma’am.”

The sheriff shook her head. “No more of that Ma’am business, you’ll make me feel old. Kate please, you’ve earned that much at least unless we’re at work.”

Harry nodded.

“I wanted to come and visit sooner but I was trying to give you some time to recuperate. I’ve spoken to your partner and read the reports of the incident.” she paused and raised her eyebrows. “What you did was insanely dangerous and almost certainly saved lives.”

“It just seemed like the right thing at the time, I guess it was kinda stupid really,” he admitted sheepishly.

The Sheriff shook her head. “That’s what all brave people say when they do something above and beyond the call of duty. I wanted to inform you personally that you’re receiving the Medal of Valor, Line of Duty, and Life Saving awards along with a departmental Purple Heart. I spoke to the committee the other day, congratulations.”

Harry smiled. “Kelly, ah, Deputy Anderson already told me,” he admitted. “I don’t deserve those.”

The sheriff shook her head and leaned against a cabinet next to the bed. “You know what medals and awards are for?” she asked.

“People that deserve them?”

She shook her head. “It’s mostly for the people handing them out and your friends and family. Nobody that gets them wants them or feels they deserve them. We do it to celebrate the act, the achievement; It’s for the people you saved.”

Harry hung his head. “I just want to be able to work again, if I’m allowed to.”

“If a doctor signs you off you absolutely can. If not, a full pension.”

Harry looked up at the Sheriff. She was a beautiful woman in her thirties. The youngest they’d ever had in the state apparently. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a neat ponytail and her trim figure was dressed in a patrol uniform with her stars affixed to the collar. Their boss went out on the road, unlike many others.

“You know how many times I’ve been injured in the line, Harry? I can call you Harry, can’t I?”

Harry nodded, “I know of a few Ma… Kate.”

The Sheriff nodded and smirked, “too many. I couldn’t stand the idea of riding a desk even in this job. We’re thigh buddies now,” she added, patting her left thigh. “Titanium plate after I got run over a few years ago.”

Harry pushed his hair back out of his eyes and nodded.

“I’ll be honest with you,” Sheriff Reilly pointed out after a moment of quiet. “I’ve had a lot of my deputies hurt on the job, many more than I’d like. Often it’s no fault of their own and sometimes it's entirely their own stupid fault, but it’s rare when it’s such a selfless act.”

The Sheriff frowned. “I know things haven’t been wonderful for you with us, I’m aware of some of the comments and jokes. Believe me, I want us to do better. As much as we’ve tried to improve things, old habits die hard in such a macho environment. I know some of my deputies won’t ever respect me as their leader because I’m a woman but I’ve worked extremely hard to prove them wrong.”

She walked over and sat on the end of Harry’s bed. “You’re not the most macho and you’re gay; you don’t really fit into either camp in people’s minds. You made a very tough choice when you decided to answer this calling and they ought to respect you for that. After what happened to you and what you did, you’ve changed a lot of minds in the department and our colleagues in others. You too can change perceptions, Harry.”

The Sheriff’s radio crackled to life and Harry heard her number called. Reilly rolled her eyes and stood. “Babysitting to do. Take your time and heal, your job will be waiting for you when you’re ready. The Department thanks you for your sacrifice.”

After the Sheriff left, Harry considered her words. He had no intention of being an example to anyone but he understood her point about perception. Reilly had a storied career within the department before and after she was elected to her current post. That she, with all her accomplishments, didn’t feel entirely respected showed a human vulnerability he hadn’t expected in someone of her rank. Would this really change the looks he got in the locker room? Would it make people answer his calls for backup? He wasn’t sure.

The nurse wheeled Harry’s chair towards the door of the hospital. It was just over three weeks after his admittance that fateful day. The doctors had taken extra time to ensure that Harry’s wounds were healing and his initial rehabilitation was proceeding successfully. His whole body hurt from the exertion of walking back and forth, even with the aid of rails and walkers. Richard and Kelly were by his side as they exited into the LA sunshine for the first time in what had felt like an eternity.

Kelly had her SUV pulled into the bay at the doors of the hospital and the two helped Harry into the back before returning the chair to the staff. Seeing the world passing by again as they drove through the city felt novel and new. The vibrations and bumps of the road however, reminded him that it was still a very long road to recovery.

Before long, they were pulling up at Harry’s apartment in Venice. He felt incredibly frail as they helped him climb the stairs up to his home. The second-floor apartment had never felt so far away. Richard had been insistent that Harry should stay with him until he was better and he had agreed on one condition; that he be allowed to return home and pack for himself. Begrudgingly, the two agreed and helped him to his room.

Harry sat carefully on his bed. He was tired but he had something he needed to accomplish before he could rest. Slowly and painfully, he began the process of becoming Olivia once again.

While she was still in significant pain, Olivia felt suddenly far more comfortable in her own skin, her time in the hospital as Harry had felt decidedly false. She had refitted her wig, much to her frustration at her own short hair before reattaching and blending her breast forms into her skin. Slipping into comfortable underwear she dressed simply in sweatpants and a tank top and sports bra. Even with no makeup, she looked female in the bedroom mirror, that was enough for her; pretty could wait until she felt less like death warmed up.

Part of her mind realized this was beginning to mean far more to her than was probably healthy for her, but right now, comfort was important and she needed her head on right. It wasn’t as though she had anywhere to be for a while.

Packing enough clothing for a couple of weeks along with her makeup and essentials she left the cases where they were before facing the elephant in the room and stepping back out into the hallway to deal with Richard and Kelly.

The pair were waiting in the hallway when she emerged and turned to help her as she shuffled out of the bedroom expecting her to be trying to move her own bags. Kelly’s hand flew to her mouth and barely hid her smile. Richard grinned and nodded at her.

“I figured,” he said simply. Olivia smiled and shrugged.

“It’s not right you know,” Kelly muttered. “You nearly died, you can barely move, you’ve no makeup on and you look better than me.”

Olivia smirked, “Don’t hate the player, hate the game.”

Kelly shook her head and went to collect the cases while Richard helped her back down to the car.

“We’re going to have to talk about this when we get home,” he remarked casually as he held her weight as she hobbled down the stairs.

“Home?” Olivia asked with mock skepticism. “That’s presumptuous.”

“For now at least, consider it yours too.”

She smiled at him and kissed his cheek.

Loading her belongings into the trunk of Kelly’s SUV, the three set off for Richard’s apartment in Santa Monica. It wasn’t long before her partner started her interrogation.

“So,” Kelly asked without looking back at Olivia. “Spill the beans girly, what’s the deal here? I take it Harry’s not coming back, right?”

“I don’t know what label to put on things at the moment but I have a long time ahead of me before Harry has to come back, and I want to see how I feel about everything.”

“I mean it’s not a huge leap really. You certainly suit it and you should do what you feel like. My real question is how does this genderfuck work with Richie boy?”

With a grimace, Olivia leaned forward and smacked her partner’s arm.

Richard shrugged. “I don’t care, She’s beautiful either way.”

Kelly simply grinned and returned her attention to the road. Olivia snuggled closer to Richard’s shoulder. While still miffed she wasn’t allowed to stay in her own home to recuperate, she was secretly pleased he wanted to look after her.

“I’m going to feel totally out of place staying here with you, it’s so ostentatcious.”

Richard grinned, “You’re not exactly poor you know, your family makes more than I do per anum. Doesn’t that make me the gold digger?”

Being held around the shoulders made slapping the back of someone’s head extremely easy, she discovered.

Before long her belongings were put away in the bedroom and she was carefully placed on the expansive sofa to rest. The doctors had told her to ensure she was immobile as much as possible but maintained their physical therapy schedule of appointments and at-home routines. She knew the road ahead was a difficult one, but their prognosis of a full recovery was extremely positive if she was proactive.

There would always be a bullet to remind her of that fraught decision on that filthy sidewalk. She knew her decision had been correct as much as she felt she had failed to accomplish it. She was determined to return to the job and prove that she deserved it. Not for the sake of anyone else, but for her own sake. The rest of this mess she had gotten into would have to be addressed too. As much as it hurt, this situation gave her time to work out how she truly felt.

“Push yourself, Harry, give me five more laps.”

Amanda Carter was a hard taskmistress. Harry cursed her name every time he completed the length of the therapy room they were using at the hospital. Walking was possible, but more than a dozen meters at a time was painful and it took all of his strength to continue moving his legs. The program set out for him was designed to maintain muscle mass and aid the knitting of the shattered bone.

Harry completed the demanded laps and Carter helped him sit on a bench to rest.

“This is exhausting.” He grumbled.

“By the time it’s not, we’ll add more, then move on to strength exercises once your healing is further along. We don’t want to risk any reopening of wounds while the stitches are still in.”

Harry nodded. “It will get easier, right?”

Carter finished her notes and nodded. “Yes, but we’re not just aiming for basic recovery and healing. Your job demands a lot and it’s going to need to go a bit further.”

He understood of course, but it would be a grueling experience all the same.

“You’ve got a check-up with Doctor Miller, then I’ll see you next week.” she added, “I’ll get you an orderly to take you upstairs.”

One of the hospital orderlies arrived and wheeled Harry up to the eighth floor to wait for Doctor Miller at her office. He only had to wait ten minutes before she arrived and held the door for him while he wheeled himself inside. He was exhausted from the exercise so was glad for the excuse to move around in the wheelchair.

“How was your first session with the physical therapist?” She asked, sitting at her desk.

“Psycho you mean,” Harry grumbled. “Awful, I feel like I ran a marathon.”

She smiled. “It’s going to be like that. The majority of damage is in your thighs, which are the main motive power of your body. It’s going to take some time.”

Doctor Miller helped him up onto the examination table and helped him undress so she could examine his wounds.

“These are knitting nicely, but they’re going to be extremely sore for a while. I should be able to remove the stitches in a week or so. The bone won’t start to really mend for another month but the titanium plates we fitted will hold things nicely. How are you sleeping?”

“Poorly,” Harry admitted. “Mostly nightmares. The pain is bad but I’m trying to moderate the painkillers I'm taking, I’d rather not feel too numb.”

Miller nodded in agreement and helped him to redress. “So, the biggest topic we need to address is your ongoing health from here. Your body has suffered a major trauma and it’s going to need to heal. A big part of that, and especially the recovery of muscle tissue is your body’s endocrine system. Right now, your hormones are flatlined and you don’t have any testosterone flowing through your system aside from the small amount that’s produced by your pituitary gland.”

She paused to see if he was following.

“The way the human body works is that it needs those hormones to develop, or in your case, recover. Lack of those hormones also can lead to bone problems and your physical health declining. With the loss of your testicles, this means you’re going to need that testosterone injected every month so that your body can maintain its normal function and muscle mass. This is something we’re going to start today.”

Harry didn’t reply. He knew this was something that would be brought up, but he also knew he wasn’t ready to decide yet.

Doctor Miller glanced at him and noticed his expression, “Is there something wrong?”

Harry frowned. “How vital is this to my recovery?”

“Vital honestly,” she replied. “Is there something wrong with this? I know it’s going to be inconvenient but you’ll get used to the regimen over time. Eventually, you won’t even notice. Naturally, you won’t be able to father children, but I believe you do have a boyfriend, yes?”

Harry nodded. “I do, but that’s not it Doctor.” he paused, the words suddenly seemed extremely difficult for him to form.

“What do you see when you look at me?” he asked.

Doctor Miller regarded him for a moment with an analytical medical eye.

“A young man recovering from an extremely traumatic event.”

“Physically, specifically.” Harry pressed.

“You’re,” she consulted her notes, “five foot eight, one hundred and forty-three pounds, slim, perhaps a little on the skinny side of healthy, fair-haired.” she stopped for a moment and ran a finger along his cheek and forearm.

“Extremely light body hair, low facial hair growth, when did you start shaving?”

“I didn’t.”

“There is a possibility you had reduced hormone production before this, which does make a replacement regimen extremely important to balance your body’s endocrine system. This will help you grow facial hair, and build muscle mass and strength. Your parents never took you to your local practitioner about this?”

“What if I don’t want that?”

Dr Miller thought for a moment. “Have you been taking anything?”

Harry shook his head. “No.”

“Are you experiencing underlying gender issues?”

The million dollar question Harry mused. Was he? There was confusion, certainly, but was he ready for a pathway in either direction? His incident left him at a fork in the road where each pathway led in extremely different directions and neither were easy.

“Yes,” he replied quietly, unable to meet the doctor’s eyes.

“Are you seeing any psychiatrists about this?” she asked gently.

Harry shook his head. “I was getting to that point I guess.”

“This leaves us in a quandary,” Miller explained. “You need to begin replacement as soon as possible for your physical recovery to progress as smoothly as possible, if you’re not willing to take the Testosterone injections, you don’t exactly have many options.”

“Waiting doesn’t work?”

Miller shook her head. “You need this. Now your circumstances are far from normal, and this presents you with a choice. As things stand, you don’t have a supporting psychiatrist or a diagnosis but I could in my remit, prescribe Oestrogen instead. Now, This would only occur if you promise to see a professional and gain a diagnosis to continue after this initial round. You’ve had recent bloodwork to clear you for either really. I have your baseline levels, and given that you lack any natural primary production, one or the other is necessary. Now, while this will benefit your recovery, you shouldn’t experience any irreversible changes within three to four months should you change your mind.”

“The Oestrogen,” Harry answered flatly. It felt like the right choice, but he also realized he was beginning a pathway he might not be able to return from, or want to.

Doctor Miller nodded. “We can do that. However, I insist you get an appointment to see a specialist soon, I’ll have my receptionist give you a few numbers.”

Harry was in a mental fog as Doctor Miller left to gather the necessary items for his first shot. This decision felt monumental but he also felt strongly that testosterone would be far more wrong. Within moments, Miller returned and had him lower his pants for her to jab him in the buttocks.

“So, fair warning, you’re going to experience some emotional changes and you might notice your skin will feel softer. If things are particularly virulent, you’ll develop some sensitivity in the breast area and body fat will begin to move around. Nothing should be too extreme, but prepare for tears.”

“I’ve always been pretty emotional anyway.” Harry shrugged.

“Oh then you’re going to be a wreck soon,” Miller smirked. “Expect random mood swings.”

After the appointment was complete, Harry collected the list of names from Miller’s receptionist and was delivered back downstairs to the lobby where Kelly was waiting to take him back to Richard’s apartment.

“Go alright, blondie?” She asked, taking his arm carefully. “How long before you can dance in heels again?”

Harry didn’t answer straight away. “Sooner than I thought, I guess.”

Kelly helped him into her waiting SUV and climbed in beside him. “How so?”

“Well, the doctor jabbed my ass with my first hormone shot to replace what I lost.”

“So you’ll be sporting a huge beard soon? Won’t kissing Richard be weird when it's velcro on velcro?”

Harry shook his head. “No beard, but I might grow boobs.”

Kelly slammed on the brake and flipped off the honking sedan behind her before staring at him in shock, “what did you say?”

“She told me I needed one or the other to heal, and I didn’t want the testosterone.”

“So you’re all shot up with girl juice?”

Harry nodded and didn’t turn to face his partner. “Yeah.”

“Dude, this is big isn’t it?”

“She told me I shouldn’t expect too much and nothing permanent yet. She wants me to see a shrink to talk about all of this girl stuff.”

“You talk to Richard about this?”

Harry shook his head. “Wasn’t expecting to be given an ultimatum or a choice today. I guess I have to explain some stuff to him tonight.”

Kelly spent the rest of the journey making fun of her partner and telling him stories of what he was missing at work. She knew his head was a mess at the moment and hoped he would find the path that was right for him. Once they arrived back at the apartment, she helped him inside and got him settled before leaving with a promise to call later and hear how his conversation went.

Harry limped back into the bedroom slowly and changed out of his neutral sweats and changed back into Olivia.

Was she making the right choice? Was this a phase, a fad or a place to hide from reality? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was every day that passed left Harry feeling more and more like the disguise. Perhaps the junction she’d reached was the catalyst she needed to really face those feelings she’d forced down for so long.

Olivia woke later that evening when Richard softly shook her shoulder. She was lying on the sofa in the living room of his apartment. She opened her eyes to see him kneeling above her with a worried look on his face. “Hey”

“You looked restless, you were muttering, How are you feeling?”

Olivia pulled herself upright with a grimace. “Bad dream I guess, Physical therapy was really exhausting. I sat down for a rest when I got back and then you were here.”

Richard placed a bag of takeout containers on the coffee table. “Must be the life, sleeping and working out while I go out all day to hunt for dinner.”

Olivia rolled her eyes as the scent of Chinese takeout filled her nose. “Must be hard to spear the guy at the Chinese restaurant.”

Richard grinned at her and took the bag through to the kitchen to serve their food before joining her on the sofa. The pair ate in silence for a few moments.

“I like this,” Olivia admitted as she wrestled with a dumpling.

“I’d hope so, he does make good food.”

“No you idiot, this,” she added, gesturing with her chopsticks. “Us, here, together.”

Richard smiled. “I know what you mean, it feels right.”

Olivia frowned, “It does feel wrong that more of our relationship has been in a hospital room than anywhere else.”

“We have all the time in the world to correct that,” Richard replied softly. “And I plan to.”

He kissed her cheek gently and went back to his noodles.

“Today was awful,” she admitted. “I thought my legs were going to fall off.”

“It will get easier. What did the doctor say?”

The big moment of truth had arrived. She had to be honest and she was afraid. Olivia put down her carton and turned as best she could to face Richard.

“Well, I’m healing well, there’s no infection to worry about. She’s started me on hormone replacement shots to make up for what I’m missing so my recovery proceeds as well as possible.”

Richard looked at her for a moment. “When do the tears start?”

Olivia couldn’t speak. Her voice felt like it was trapped in her throat. “How?” she managed eventually.

Richard set down his meal and smiled. “Can you really sit there like that and tell me you asked her to make you a big muscly man?”

Olivia looked down at her hands. She could feel a lump in her chest as her emotions swirled. “No, I can’t.”

“Baby, the more I see you, the more I see that this is the real you,” he gestured toward her. “That beauty I saw in you; that kind, caring, wonderful person is so much more vivid and full of color when you’re Olivia. You might not be sure yourself but I can see how you feel when you’re dressing as Harry compared with now. You look like shit, but you look like a whole person.”

Olivia glanced at the T-shirt and sweatpants she wore, catching the curve of her chest and a strand of her hair against the top.

“I wish it was real.” she muttered. “I really think I’m crazy.”

“No.”

“No?”

“You’re not crazy,” Richard kissed her forehead. “Not at all.”

As the month passed, life became frustratingly monotonous for Olivia. Recovery was difficult and was progressing painfully slowly. Her stitches had been removed and her pain medication had been reduced further. Physical therapy sessions continued much to her chagrin, although she was walking more on her own and with both Richard and Kelly as she became able to leave the apartment for longer stretches. Eventually, she was able to walk along the pier for short stretches as long as she was given frequent chances to rest.

The injection was beginning to have an effect on her, she could tell. As far as she could see, it was only emotional at the moment. She found her mood far less stable and caught herself crying at the slightest thing and flying into tirades of frustration at her condition. She wasn’t sure, but she thought her sense of smell had changed too. One morning, when Richard had bent down to kiss her, she had asked if he had a new cologne but he hadn’t changed a thing. In truth, she loved what was happening to her and it was the most peaceful she had felt in her entire life.

She had arranged to see one of the psychiatrists on Doctor Miller’s list and the day had approached all too quickly. She hadn’t questioned her choice to arrive as Olivia for the session as she now consigned Harry to a disguise of necessity. Summer was in full effect and the city sweltered. She had dressed comfortably in a strappy sundress that didn’t expose a lot of her chest and fell to her mid-thigh. Flat sandals and light makeup completed her look. She had fussed for a long time in the mirror before she felt satisfied with her appearance.

The psychiatrist’s office was a thirty-minute drive up the coast by a pretty little pier overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Olivia stepped out of the Uber and rested against a railing. She looked out towards the vast expanse of ocean for a moment while she collected herself. She had come alone, wanting to face this herself, and she took the moment to steel her nerves before entering the office.

When she entered, she found the small office comfortably appointed and a young female receptionist sat behind a low mahogany desk in the waiting area.

“Can I help you?” She asked cheerfully as Olivia limped in through the door.

“I’m here to see Doctor Barton at twelve-thirty, Olivia Dalton.” she replied, leaning against the desk.

“Let me check, are you ok? Do you need a hand?”

Olivia shook her head. “I’ll manage, they told me to use my crutches but I hate them.”

“I have it here. Please take a seat over there,” she answered, pointing to a sofa by the window. “I know the feeling,” the girl smiled slyly. “I broke my ankle last year and I couldn’t stand it.”

Olivia was barely waiting five minutes when a middle-aged woman with gray-salted red hair appeared at the door. “Olivia?”

She waited patiently for Olivia to drag herself to her feet and limp through to her office. Her energy waning, Olivia accepted her arm to help her sit in a padded armchair by a huge picture window overlooking the beach.

Doctor Barton took a seat in a chair facing her and regarded her for a moment.

“So you were referred to me by Doctor Miller at Kaiser, I hear you experienced a traumatic event?”

“I was shot at work.” Olivia answered shifting in her seat to find comfort.

Doctor Barton’s eyebrows rose. “Oh?”

“I was fighting a man for his gun and it went off, I was hit in the pelvis and thighs.” she answered, raising the hem of her dress slightly to show the lowest of the still-healing red welts on her leg.

“You poor thing, the file she sent over explained you were a police officer? You didn’t want to go through your department’s own therapists?”

“Well, I was told you were a specialist in other areas, Doctor Barton.”

Doctor Barton nodded. “Call me Marie, yes, as I’m sure you’re aware I’m a specialist in gender issues although I do deal with post-traumatic stress and sexual assault survivors.”

“I suppose my…experience,” Olivia explained. “Well, it forced me to evaluate feelings I’ve been having, and given that I have a lot of time on my hands, I realized it was time to confront them.”

Marie Barton jotted down something on her pad. “So would you explain how you feel about yourself? Your background? What is it about you that makes you feel as though you should have been born a boy?”

Olivia balked. “A boy?”

Marie nodded. “I’m sure you already explained to Doctor Miller but her notes are typically awful, the referral wasn’t very detailed.”

Olivia shook her head, “No, no, I was born a boy. I guess I really don’t think I should be, I think?”

It was Marie Barton’s turn to look surprised. She set her notebook down on the arm of her chair and regarded Olivia more seriously.

“You’re extremely convincing I have to say. How long have you been living as a woman?”

Olivia shrugged. “Mostly the last month or two but I suppose I’ve been dressing for five or six years.”

Olivia began to explain her childhood and her feelings to Doctor Barton. She started back at her earliest memories and tried to be as honest as possible. She explained her discovery of drag performance since arriving in California from the conservative world of Montana. She described meeting Richard, their romance, and her gradual acceptance of her new presentation.

“Do you have any photographs of your stage persona?” Marie asked.

Olivia dug out her cell phone from the small shoulder bag she carried. How had she lived without a handbag before? She pulled up the same image she had shown Richard over dinner. It was the wild blue and pink promotional photograph she loved the most.

Marie’s eyebrows rose. “This is quite a look.” she admitted. “You’re extremely convincing for a drag artist.”

Olivia flushed. “I never wanted to be a parody. That felt right.”

Marie nodded and made some notes before glancing at the clock.

“Our session is nearly over, but I want to see you more regularly. I realize that your situation is relatively unique given your injuries and Cathy, Doctor Miller made the right choice given the circumstances. Estrogen will be far less emotionally damaging to you in your current state and I feel confident we will make a diagnosis in enough time for no harm to occur permanently in either direction. Leaving you without would be far more harmful to your recovery in the time being.

Tentatively, you would seem to match the criteria for a Gender Dysphoria diagnosis, but I won’t set that in stone until we’ve spoken more. Your experiences are in line with many in your situation although you’ve taken a highly unusual path to reach it.” she admitted.

“So I can continue with the shots, can’t I?” Olivia asked with concern.

Marie nodded. “Yes, but we’ll make another appointment to discuss this, and I absolutely want to address your trauma too while we’re here. I feel we can work better with that in this environment than a department therapist. You can let them know you’re seeing me and I am capable of providing a report for them when the time comes.” she noticed the look on Olivia’s face.

“And I’ll gender the report however you wish at that time should you need me to.” she added with a smile.

Olivia thanked her and allowed her to help her out to the waiting Uber once they were done. Giving the driver her address she watched the ocean pass as they drove back toward the city. She felt a mixture of relief and calm as she reflected on the session. She had expected pushback or denial from the psychiatrist. The world told her this was wrong, that she was wrong. She had, however, been heard and told she wasn’t entirely crazy. This was the first time she had articulated her entire life story and what surprised her was that this seemed to fit. Memories and thoughts she had understood only in the isolation of a disjointed mess of fear and harassment suddenly made a lot more sense. A single tear rolled down her cheek as she smiled to herself. She might make it out of this in one piece after all.

Richard unlocked the door to his apartment and entered. He was working long hours for an upcoming trial and he would far rather be spending time with Olivia. He saw how painful movement still was for her and he wanted to be available to help take her to the various places she needed to go. He knew she was independent and willful but he couldn’t help wanting to look after her.

The scent hit his nostrils as soon as he passed the doorway. Following his nose, he entered the kitchen to see Olivia hovering over the stove stirring a pot. She was propping herself up against the counter and he could see the pain that was wracking her body. His heart broke when she attempted to smile through the obvious pain.

Without a word, he scooped her up in his arms as delicately as he could and carried her through to the living room, and placed her on the sofa.

“I could have finished,” she muttered, the tension already leaving her body.

Richard shook his head. “I told you I’d take care of the food while you were healing, I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

Olivia seemed defeated. “I just wanted to do something nice for you, I feel like I’m a leach.”

Richard leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Thank you, but it’s unnecessary. You shouldn’t have strained yourself like that, what would happen if you’d set yourself back? Or hurt yourself? Fallen?”

“I’m not an invalid.” Olivia pouted.

“I know,” Richard stroked her hair. “And a man could get used to having his lady make dinner for him when he gets home.” he added, stepping quickly out of reach before she could smack him.

“I got this, just give me instructions,” he called as he made his way into the kitchen to finish what she had started.

Olivia dispatched orders to her servant from her well-padded throne. She was disappointed that she was unable to finish her surprise but admitted she had overdone things a little. Richard completed the remaining tasks and soon the pair were eating while Olivia replayed the day's events and her visit to the psychiatrist.

“So she thinks this is something real for you?” he asked between bites.

Olivia nodded. “The more I explained it and the more she directed me to expand on feelings it started to click together. I’m starting to feel that it explains a lot more than I was willing to admit. I had never even considered it to be a possible outcome to how I felt. When I experienced various feelings of dissociation, I attributed them to my sexual attraction to men rather than who I was at my core. It explains perhaps why I never wanted to be a caricature on stage and why I started to do this more often now I feel safe. I think before I was so afraid of what others thought of me that I bottled things up inside and buried them,” she admitted. “This doesn’t bother you, does it?”

Richard shook his head. “No,” he replied. “Ever since I realized this was more serious for you, I think I almost expected this outcome. I want you to do whatever you feel is right for you and I’ll stand by that. I love you.”

Olivia kissed his cheek. “Well, I can finally say I turned a man straight.” she chuckled softly.

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