I stared down from the little stone bridge into the calm water of the pond below me, reflections sharp in the lamplight of the park. With a sigh, I ran my hand back through my hair, then pulled the toothpick out of my mouth and flicked it toward my own distorted image.

"Hey! Chau! C'mon, man, we're gonna be late!"

I continued to stare into the rings making their way out across the water. Amazing, isn't it, the way just a single small thing renders the whole unintelligible?

"Chau! No foolin' man, this gig is paying and we NEED this, buddy! The depressed Indy kid act is for the customers -- now let's GO!"

I tugged on the open front of my long wool trench coat and bent to pick up my case. With a final glance at the pond, I tromped across the footbridge and toward Pete -- sorry... still getting used to it -- toward Pike and the brightly lit glass convention house a bit beyond him.

Trumpet. Soulful and Jazzy. Like a Japanese Louis Armstrong -- or even Dizzy Gillespie, but without the bent horn and puffy cheeks. I lose myself in the music every time, just paying enough attention to Pike, Ramona, Beth, and Roger to get the changeovers.

I needed it that night. I hoped they realize it. Gawd. I don't think I'd ever needed it like that. I hoped they pick up on that. After the day I had had, I needed that more than anything. Pike nodded to Ramona, who tapped the other two on the shoulders and they stepped back, Roger putting down his sticks. I glanced over and Ramona nodded to me.

I tore loose. Ohhh yeah. Better than any drug I've ever heard tell of. I ran the gamut. From standard basic jazz riffs to some of the most bluesy horn you'll hear outside of the French Quarter. Song, after song, after song, after... song. Eventually, some of the partygoers noticed that there was only one playing and I ignored them. My eyes closed, lost in the music. They stopped to listen, but I didn't care. They could've started booing me right then, and I'd've gone on.

Finally spent, I opened my eyes and looked up as I played one last long, bent and bluesy note, echoing away in the silent glass house. Everyone standing and staring at me.

I played it cool. I nodded and stepped back as the other four picked up on another standard. I flopped into my chair on the little stage and pulled out my cloth. I started rubbing down the horn as my bandmates picked up where I left off. There was a murmur and a smattering of applause as I stopped, but they just kind of melted back into their dancing.

After a bit, I stood back up and I played along with the band. I felt a bit better, but still not great. Music soothes the soul... it can't mend it.

We finished and I packed up my trumpet, and Pike gave me my cut... but I noticed him slip a five from each of the other piles and add it to mine.

"C'mon, Pete, uh, Pike, we all need the money. I appreciate the gesture, but..."

"Chau. Buddy. Dude. Um, -ette. Well, someday you'll be an -ette... Buddy. You did a twenty-five minute solo. Don't look at me that way, you DID. You totally deserve an extra Jackson, and well, it's only costing each of us a five. Take it with the good grace you're supposed to have on this whole journey to becoming a woman."

I looked over at the others and they were smiling, Beth giving me a thumbs up. I nodded... hell, I know I blushed.

"The solo was as much for me as for them..."

Ramona cleared her throat.

"And, my dear sister-in-waiting, there's nothing wrong with a gal enjoying what she does for a living. Look, when I marry your retard-o brother, you really will be my little sister, anatomy notwithstanding, so you HAVE to listen to me. So there."

I grinned and pulled in the petite blonde (though, her current purple and blue and green and white would never give that away) for a hug, and smiled shyly at the others.

"You know, hon," put in the perky little redhead, "Someday soon, you need to show us the real you."

Pike and Ramona murmured assent, but...

"Count me out on that, man."

Roger took another drag of his 'clove' and flicked it toward the pond. It didn't make it, but sat there on the bank in the dark and smouldered.

"Look. I don't care, really, I mean, you say you're a chick... fine... your business, and I can see where you'll be a total fox once you get, well, girlified. But I know you as a guy. My brain can't handle it. I mean, you're the hottest horn in town, and I'm happy to get to play with you... but I don't need to see your 'true self' to get along, y'know?"

I nodded, and opened my mouth to tell him it was okay.

"No, Chau. It's not okay, and don't say it is. I know it's a horrible thing to say to you, but I can't help it. I mean, I've known you only for less than a year, and you trusted me along with these three to tell me your big secret. You put yourself out there and I smack you in the face and tell you to put it away. If I'd known you as a chick, and you'd told me you used to be a dude... I wouldn't want to see any pictures of you before, get it? I support your right to be who you are, and I understand that society sucks ass for not allowing it. But I'm a product of that environment, yo?"

Roger dropped the clove that none of us remembered him lighting onto the sidewalk and ground it out, then swung open the squeaky door of the red '89 Ford pickup with his drum kit in the back, started it and drove away.

"Well," said Pike, "That was..."

"What it was, was rude, Petey," said Beth.

"It's Pike, dammit," mumbled the scruffy faceman and then nodded to each of us and headed back through the park with his guitar strapped to his back.

The three of us walked over to the footbridge (the two with portable instruments carrying them along), leaning over the rail in silence for awhile.

"He's right, you know."

"He's a shit, right Beth?"

"Doesn't make him any less right."

"Chau, listen to Ramona. Look. You're all stressed out. Don't let him bother you. Sticks & Stones would survive fine without him."

"You're a lousy liar, Beth."

"I'm also a lesbian and in love with you, you twit."

"What?"

She laughed. A sound with a music of its own I could get lost in.

"Um, you didn't just say,"

"Oh, yes she did, chica."

I snapped my head around to look at Ramona.

"Chee, Chau... she's been droppin' hints the size of all Baltimore at you for months."

Beth was nodding and looking pouty behind Ramona.

"But I'm --"

Beth interrupted me.

"Yes, I know... mere details -- ones that will change, at that. I'd be okay with you as you are and as you become who you're supposed to be, but I understand that you gotta do this your way. Just know... you ain't gotta do it alone, petit."

I laughed at the double... no... triple reference. She's from 'Nawlins' and Cajun to the core. I'm originally from Georgia and have a slight... very slight... accent. Some of the kids at school call me 'Belle' to try and rag on me. See, one of the things Beth and I have in common is the X-Men... totally into the Gambit/Rogue romance plot.

"You tryin' t' tell me somethin' Cajun?" I asked, laying on the accent thick and putting my fists on my hips while I grinned at her.

Ramona rolled her eyes and pushed off the wall of the bridge.

"I gotta jet, girls. Play nice."

She picked her bass up and gave a sort of two-fingered salute and left us alone.

"You really meant...?"

She nodded and grinned.

"But I'm..."

She laughed again, sending chills up my spine, and pushed me back against the little wall.

"So... how long've..."

I lifted my head and looked across into the mirror running along behind the bartender. With a sigh, I lifted my glass and drained the last of the cranberry juice from the glass, then slid it back away from me as I slipped off of the stool and tugged on the open front of my long wool trench coat. I fingered the meticulously pulled curl that was framing the right side of my face and sucked in air quietly through my teeth as I picked up my case and headed for the door.

"Have a good night, Chau..." came her voice as she polished the countertop that didn't need it.

I nodded as I pushed open the heavy oak slab.

I stopped, just outside in the just-beginning mists of rain, and looked up at the night sky. I shuffled down the three blocks to the town square where the gazebo was, aware the entire time that Beth and Ramona would lecture me on posture and pride and confidence and... and lots of things that I do wrong. What was the point?

I stopped in the gazebo, and just sat and rested for a moment. The rain -- or threat of rain, even -- would keep a lot of the locals from being out, but the tourists wouldn't be bothered.

After a moment or three, I pulled my trumpet out and started. Softly at first for a few songs, and then losing myself like I always did, just letting my soul pour out through the three valves. I paused and opened my eyes. There was a crowd, and I looked down. The trumpet case had a respectable amount of cash in it.

I smiled kind of weakly at my "patrons" and slipped back into the music. I forgot about the crowd. Forgot about the past year. Forgot about everything... except the music. I don't know how long I played, but I felt a bit better. They say that music soothes the soul, well... I don't know about all that, but it certainly makes me forget about how things are for a while.

As the world came back to me, and I saw all the umbrellas and heard the murmurs of appreciation. I nodded into the crowd and froze. While they slipped away into the darkness, going about whatever tourist errands they had interrupted to listen to my soul spill out, I just stared until they were all mostly gone. Then, when we were alone, I spoke.

"Um. Hi, Ramona. What, ah, what brings you to --"

"Just shut up, Chau."

"Yes ma'am. Shutting up, ma'am."

She made an annoyed noise in her throat. The crowd was mostly gone, so she helped me gather up the bills and change that had accumulated both in and near-ish the case, and then stow my horn inside.

We were silent.

After we finished, we walked together under the still sprinkling sky that hid the moon, sort of agreeing to go the same direction without saying anything.

"You know she's been drunk off her ass since you skipped."

"Geez, 'Mona..."

"No, Chau, you left without a single damn word. I could have told her where you'd be. I could have sent --"

"Leave my brother out of this."

"Right. You know if you ask me, I'll leave you here to your... whatever the hell you're doing... and go back, never mentioning I even saw you. But I wanna know. Why?"

"You know why, 'Mona."

I paused to kick a rock out across the glistening-wet faux-cobblestones of the street. Dammit. I don't want to cry.

She reached over and lifted my chin.

"Don't duck your head, little sister."

A sob and a chuckle fought free at the same moment, and the ridiculousness of that set me off.

We sat down right there and she hugged me through my soaked wool coat as I cried into her shoulder. I was afraid my sobs would knock her over, but she just stroked my head and made, "Shh-shh-shh-shh-shh," noises quietly as she rocked me softly. For some reason, it worked.

After a bit we stood up and started walking again. The rain had stopped, and everything had a sheen of glisten about it. Everything had a smell of spring rain, even here in the middle of the city.

We paused and I glanced in the window of an all-night coffeehouse. My hair was a wet and dripping mess. Any pale excuse for makeup I'd had on was long washed from my face by tears and rain. I glanced at her and jerked my thumb toward the place.

She nodded, and we made our way inside to a table. I stared out the window while she went up to order. I shucked out of my coat, letting it drip dry over the back of my chair.

She set a latte or a cappuccino or whatever it was in front of me. I grunted a thanks of some kind and took a sip. It was bitter, almost tasteless, and kind of nasty consistency. It was also hot. I took another sip.

"Okay. Now. Why?"

I sighed.

"You know, 'Mona, I left so I wouldn't have to answer shit like that."

"Too bad I found you then. Spill."

With a sigh, I ran my hand back through my hair, a habit from another lifetime. It made her smile.

"Why should you care?"

"Talk."

Another sigh. Another run through my drenched hair.

"Well... you remember that night at the glass house? The night I jumped into the solo piece last year?"

She frowned a moment while she searched her memory, then smiled.

"The night Beth told you she loved you."

"The night one of my best friends told me that he'd never accept me."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh. Well, I didn't feel quite... right... around Roger after that, 'Mona. I mean, he didn't act any different, and he was even all respectful. Hell, at one point he even made one of those comments that guys always make about lesbian fantasies when Beth kissed me at a gig."

She reached across the little table and took my hand, giving it a little squeeze.

"I... love... Beth. I really do. I ache for her constantly. But I can't be with her. It hurts more to be there with her and know that she's compromising herself, her beliefs... to be good to me."

"Oh, sweetie --"

"No, 'Mona. Just no. You have my brother. You know what love is. Pete has Ginny. Even Roger found someone. Beth... Beth has a promise of an imitation someday in the future that's undefined. I can't stand that. I can't hurt her anymore."

"Don't you see you're hurting her by running out like this? She's been blind stinking drunk for the past three months, Chau."

I tried not to show what I was feeling, but this woman has been able to read me like a book since we met.

"See, girl, I know you care. Look. It's not that undefined. At least, not if you come back. The band is long gone, so you really never have to associate with Roger again if you don't want. You have a therapist and you've been on the whole hormone thing for nearly a year. You've been living as a woman... the real you for 7 months. Why throw all that away?"

I started again with the body-wracking sobs. I kept the noise down, but some of the others in the coffeehouse looked over at us all curious-like.

"Don't you think that's hard for me? I love Beth. I need to be able to be myself, to be the woman I am. I need my friends, too, though. Roger won't even meet my eyes, 'Mona. Not even if we meet randomly at a gas station. He... when I went up to talk to him in the club that last night... 'Mona, ignoring me is one thing, I can handle that. But what he said..."

She lifted my face again and used her thumb to remove some clinging bit of outside from under my left eye.

"We all love you, Chau. Beth needs you, like you need her. To hell with Roger and people like him."

I lay my head down on the table and closed my eyes. I let my mind wander for a moment.

"I don't even know who I am, anymore, 'Mona."

I lie there a moment more. An eon more. Then I opened my eyes.

A tiny face was staring concerned into mine. Brows furrowed in pain as she felt it with me.

"I know who you are. You're the girl that's always playing the sad horn music in the park. Why are you so sad?"

"She's sad because her friend said something that was very mean to her."

"Oh."

"Elizabeth Ann! You leave those ladies alone. I'm sorry girls..." rambled the little empath's mother as she took her by the hand and led her away.

Elizabeth Ann turned and pulled her hand away and ran back to me, throwing her arms around me in the small-person version of a crushing bear hug. Her mother was horrified, but... it... helped.

"Thank you, Elizabeth Ann," I directed at the sweet little face.

"No problem, lady. Hugs make even the worstest hurts inside your heart feel better for awhile. And I bet the mean friend was a boy. Boys are gross. Just remember what my gran'pa says that words can't hurt you."

Her mother pulled her away, then... and paid their bill, all the while giving my new favorite child a lecture on the dangers of speaking to strangers. I looked over at Ramona.

"Wise words from the wisest of sources."

I smiled, and looked out the window to where Elizabeth Ann was still being scolded as she was strapped into a carseat.

Then I whispered, "Thank you, Elizabeth Ann."