TW: Disassociation, transphobia/transmisogyny, sexual assault mention/reference, physical and sexual abuse reference, violence. Takes place a few days after 'Ugly'.

Façade

It takes her a while to realize that people are noticing. Nobody says anything – apparently even the rambunctious group who seem to have adopted have enough tact for that – but she starts seeing it in their eyes, in the way they're careful on how they touch her, the way they ask her about her days and offer to carry her things and to share their food, with a kindness that reeks of pity. Ling doesn't headbutt her shoulder with the same reckless abandon now, and it bothers her, god, it bothers her more than it should.

I'm not weak, she hisses to herself. I'm not pathetic enough to let this affect me. It's done. It's over. Except, of course, for the man who sleeps down the hall from her. She's held a gun to his head before; she wasn't strong enough to pull the trigger.

I'm not weak, I'm not weak, I'm not weak, she practically screams without opening her mouth (because if she does it'll all come pouring out and then what will they think, how much more delicately can they handle her when they already think she's made of glass) but Greed's words come echoing back at her, warping into a constant drumbeat inside her head.

The only thing she can do is try to cover it up. She already spreads concealer on her bruises; what's a little more to hide the cracks? And nobody can hurt her now. There's only one person capable of that and he hasn't come back (he will, he will, but that's for another day).

She shows up that Monday in a dress. It's the first time she's worn one since Hallowe'en, and people can get away with just about anything in the name of a good costume. And this one is a proper one, black lace sleeves and a short skirt that shows off her legs, paid for with cash and hidden in the depths of her closet. And when somebody says something barely audible, she doesn't even bother acknowledging him – she just drives a fist into his side and knocks him into the row of lockers, and walks on by.

Nobody touches her after that.

Ling can keep his angels and feathered wings. Envy has teeth and claws now; and she would rather be feared than afraid.

(And the cautious looks in Ed and Ling and Russell's eyes are still there, but those will fade in time.)