Disclaimer: I don't own Infinity Train

Title: You had all the answers, but no human touch

Summary: Something about young love and trauma and gender identity, it's a little all over

...

You tell her about the mirrors before you tell her about anything else. About the video game man cave you and Nate have made, about the absolute disaster that is your bedroom, about the kitchen, about your mom and dad. It's not even something you do consciously- it's habit now, to warn first and converse second.

(It was hard, at first. But so was Lake. And it's so, so much easier now.)

"That's fine," Lake says, and acts as if doing the limbo to walk into the bathroom is a perfectly normal affair. You follow mostly out of habit, still a bit stunned that this is happening. You're gonna sleep in your bed tonight. You're gonna go to school on Monday. The train is gone, and it didn't keep her a second time, though it damn well tried.

You brush your teeth while maintaining uncomfortable eye contact with your reflection. You know it's silly, but you dub it Essej. You doubt Lake was ever Pilut, but it feels kind of lame to call it Mirror Jesse. That feels like a cop out.

Hi, you telepathically tell Essej. I'm Jesse. You know that already. I don't know if you're telepathic or not, but if you are, blink twice.

You blink, then blink again. So does Essej. You're not entirely sure if that counts.

Lake loves the ocean, and grunge, and sappy romance novels where everything is okay. She loves characters having happy endings. She loves big poofy jackets and wearing kitty socks under her boots. She loves a lot of things, and you; well, you really, really love Lake.

"I've been thinkin'," she says one day, kicking metallic feet behind her. She's reading on your bed while you do homework. It's not romance, not today- this is nitty gritty, dark and somber. She loves seeing people go through bad things sometimes too. "I'm not really human, right? Like, I don't gotta be all human-y with human pronouns."

"You're totally human," you say without looking up, brow pinched. Man, math bites. "Humans got loads of pronouns. If one of those don't fit, we can make you new ones."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Huh." Lake sounds a bit wistful, but not in a fun way. "Tulip never looked that stuff up. I guess she never had to question that part of herself. She was gonna, in a couple of years- she was crushing hard on Mikayla- but she knew that much. She thought she did, anyway."

You glance, almost instinctively, towards the window. The sun is at such an angle your reflection is blurred. You pull the blinds down. "I really gotta meet this Tulip girl. She sounds boring."

"She thinks she's edgy because she can code."

"Clearly, she's edgy because she thinks coding is edgy."

"Exactly. It's a clearly marked difference." Lake taps her fingers against the pages. She's learning, bit by bit, to be more careful with her strength. She's poked holes in perfectly good books before now, and will likely do so again, the fiend. "I don't think I'm any gender. It's, like, another mirror. Like you have to fit into these two segments or you're wrong. It's bullshit."

"Agender," you reply, then shrug at her quizzical look. "What? I go to GSA meetings at school. And agender's just one of a billion names for this stuff. It's really about how much you wanna nitpick it."

"Nerd."

"The only reason you're a Bella stan is because Kristin Stewart has gorgeous hair."

"Fuck you too," Lake decides with a flourish. "Can I use they for a bit? I dunno if I'll keep it, but it feels like a good starter platform."

"Heck yeah. Gender's dumb."

Things Lake Likes:

-Music that sounds deep even when it's not

-Nate

-Destroying the patriarchy

-Flipping off local police officers (pleasestopwe'regonnadie)

-Jesse?

"Hi," you say to Essej, toothbrush once again in your mouth. It's not a good look. "I'm really sorry, man. I know you can't stop, but if you ever wanna... I won't tell. I promise."

White foam dribbles down Essej's chin. You wipe your own and try a different tactic. "I'm sorry if I'm making this harder. I- I really don't know if I'm helping or not. It just feels wrong to know there's a whole person out there who can't be themselves." You study the twitches in their face. "I killed a Flec, you know. I mean, technically it was a superpowered deer, but I helped. And if any Flecs give you trouble, I'd do it again. So don't worry about them.

There's a loud knock on the door, and you almost swallow your toothbrush as Nate bellows, "C'mon, Jesse! I gotta go potty!"

"Sorry!" you say, putting the brush away. You sneak one last look at Essej. "Sorry," you repeat.

Things Jesse Likes:

-Swimming

-Nate

-?

-Lake

Bookface is a wonder of surprises of oddities. The newest of which is a message from Tulip Olsen of Wisconsin.

Tulip: Hi. This might be a bit awkward, but I keep an eye on the news, and your case was pretty popular. You might know of me from doing the same stunt last year. I'm messaging you because a buddy of mine has started a chat for train-hoppers. Did you ride the rails?

Lake dryly laughs over your shoulder, and you almost fall out of your chair in shock. They're in a greaser jacket today, and it feels fitting with the way they're squinting at the screen. "Yeah, that's her. Can't even abbreviate like a sensible person."

Your cursor hesitates over the message box. "Would you mind?" you ask. "If I responded."

They consider it, then shrug. "It's a free world."

With their help, you draft a response. Lake reluctantly agrees to a selfie, with the caveat that they don't have to talk to Tulip themselves. You can't imagine how strange and uncomfortable this must be for them. You send it through with a short line.

Jesse: I've definitely heard of you.

The support group is... It's fine. Turns out getting stuck on a weird therapy train is actually pretty normal, has been for decades, and Tulip had actually publicized it enough to get a gang of sorts together. She's not the first, or last, or even the most memorable, but when a pasty white redhead disappears in the heart of winter it gets some media attention, especially when she comes back almost half a year later in the same outfit.

But there's a strange sort of offness to it all. A darkness. It's not like the Apex, where every word gets flung back at you, but you can tell that basically no one is being completely truthful. It's all I had family problems this and I accidentally killed my pet lizard that, but no one mentions the danger. The death. Tulip jokingly calls it "the roadtrip from hell" and that's the closest to prying that lid that anyone gets.

"You're paranoid," Lake tells you, after giving your forehead a good flicking. Nate has their other hand, and is trying to paint nails that don't technically exist. "I've known Tulip for thirteen years, and she's too straight-lace for anything shifty. She accidentally shoplifted gum once and she bawled while returning it. She was eleven."

"It's not shifty! It's more like... no one wants to really admit to anything. Or talk about it. But they made a group chat about it? For some reason?"

Nate shudders, smearing some pink across their middle finger. "So, this girl... she's another you?"

Lake pauses, having clearly never been the one to be seen as the original. "Yeah, I guess so."

"That's so... creepy."

You close your laptop before it finishes shutting down, unwilling to look at the black screen and see someone you don't know. "We'll figure it out," you promise, though the we is mostly for show.

You stumble into the bathroom at around two A.M. because you honestly need to pee, but then you look almost instinctively to the mirror and find A.) a Lake hand print, B.) Lake's hand in the handprint in the mirror, and C.) Lake's hand connected to Lake's body connected to the handprint in the mirror- in that exact order. They're glaring at the shards as if they had personally witnessed them kicking puppies.

You say what feels natural, even though the context of this whole scenario is very different from what it might have been before. "We don't have any spray paint, but there might be some old regular paint in the garage. Want me to check?"

Lake scowls and shakes their head viciously. "I hate him."

You blink, not awake enough to play the pronoun game. "One of the Flecs?"

"No. Your reflection." They're shaking now, and it's reflected (ba-dum-tss) in the tiny little creaking noises as metal fingers crunch against glass. "You can't even look yourself in the eye now."

"I think we both can agree that reflections are pretty messed up."

"But it's not your fault!" They spit the words. "No one walked up to you and was like 'hey, dude, wanna bind a person to you forever?' and you were like 'heck yeah man, gimme that mirror slavery'! No one on this side of the glass did this. And I hate him for hurting you, just like I hate Tulip for hurting me, and it's literally not his fault!" Lake rears back and punches the mirror. It's not a quiet noise by any stretch of the imagination, sending waves of glass across the bathroom floor.

You sigh. "Well, I'm gonna pee wearing tennis shoes, like some animal, and then we can talk this out, alright?"

"I'm sorry."

"Me too."

"Don't be."

"You too."

Lake presses their head to the remains and you politely pretend not to see the tears begin to flow.

Things Nate Likes:

-NOT waking up to a bathroom floor of glass dust everywhere, ow

You tell them, not because you want them to reciprocate or even because you think they'll feel the same, but because you've just watched a really good movie and now you're lounging by the pool. It's not a great pool- it's a kiddy pool, complete with debris it's technically your job to clean out this weekend- but the lawn chairs are nice and the mosquitos are keeping away.

"I think I like you," you say.

"Quite the bastion of knowledge, you are," Lake says. There's a million or so pins on their new shirt, all rainbow colors of some variety or another. "I think I like you too."

"Sweet."

"It's gross and I blame you for it." Lake shifts slightly, considering a flick, before ultimately letting it slide. "I killed Mace, you know."

"I killed Sieve."

"I don't regret it." They meet your eye. "Part of me liked it. Because I knew he couldn't hurt me ever again."

You don't flinch. "Sieve is dead, and I'm glad."

"We're a little messed up."

"The therapy train screwed over two perfectly good kids, is what it did." You take a hand and squeeze. Nothing gives. Lake is inherently cool to the touch, like plunging into ice water, and you love them even more for it. "I know neither of us are really built for romance stuff. I've got a lot to figure out about myself, and you... gosh, you've got a whole world to meet! But I wanted you to know. I don't want to lie to you."

Lake's smile twitches a bit. "I've seen how love goes," they tell you, chin tucking a bit. "Just ask Tulip. And if that's how love goes... I'm glad we're not ready. I want us to be friends forever, even though you frustrate the living hell out of me. Can we... start from that?"

"Uh, duh?" you say, and pull them in for a hug.

Lake squeezes. A lot gives. "You're a good friend, Jesse."

It's their turn to pretend not to see you cry, and they're a champ.

Things Jesse and Lake Know:

-It's going to be okay

Author's Note: Idk how satisfied with this I am, but I've had a couple of these bits jangling around in my head for a while now- Lake breaking the mirror, Jesse having awkward moments with Essej, Lake openly admitting she's glad she committed murder, etc. I think Lake's limited experiences with stuff like romance make it hard to talk about for them- all they've known is Tulip's parents, and we all know how that went.

Named this entirely because the doc title was "The Merest Illusion of the Vaugest Concept of a Fanfic" and that was too damn long so when I finished it at like 3 A.M. I picked a lyric from the song I was listening to- Goodbye Mr. A by The Hoosiers- and said fuck it.

-Mandaree1