Author's Note: Welcome, and thank you for reading! This is going to be my side project while another story of mine, Judge, Jury and Executioner, finishes up. I'm hoping to have updates at least once a week, but they might go slower for a while while that one wraps up. Thank you again for reading, and hope you enjoy!

"I'm not paying you to do a half-arsed job, lazy bastard!" A strong, commanding voice called over, and Adrianne winced, scrubbing hard. She was working as a scullery maid, scouring the pots and pans in a dismal kitchen for money. It was hot, miserable work, but it was all the work that she could find.

The plate she was working on became so shining clear that she could see herself perfectly in it's reflection. She grimaced as she saw herself come into view, and her dreams abandoned her. In her fantasies, she was the beauty of the town. A successful businesswoman who everyone watched with awe, who made men scared in her footsteps, and women question their own sexuality. But above else, very much a gorgeous woman. She would have long, dark hair all done up in a bun, and sweet blue eyes that shone brightly in the sunshine.

But now she was disgusted by the person she saw staring back at her.

In reality, she had a thick and strong jawline, and short hair that looked cut with a kitchen knife. Her shoulders were tall and bulky, her face with a patchy and rough beard that refused to stay cut, a flat chest and hips that may as well have not existed.

Every day for her was a miserable, endless nightmare. She had been born with the body of a man, and life tortured her with it every day.

Hawke was a highly overqualified kitchen worker who hated herself. Above all other obstacles, of living in a local farming community, she had gone to college, to a higher education and worked herself to the bone to rise above the stereotype placed upon her, to be more than just the moronic man that everyone expected her to be.

And none of it had ever amounted to anything.

She wanted to be something more than herself, but found it utterly impossible. Her family had to live in a shanty now, with all of the trouble she had making ends meet now that her father was dead and she was the only one working. She was suffering from something of a midlife crisis, even thought she wasn't nearly old enough: She had been beaten down, stretched thin, passed over, cheated, defeminated, exploited, unfulfilled, and even her great talent, magic, had to be covered up, closeted lest the world discover it. She was a failure, unable to adequately provide for her family, and now expected to fulfil the role of the man of the family. Something her body hated her for.

"Bastard!" The voice shouted. "Get back to it!"

She sighed, tossing the plate, and her dreams, aside.

"The hell was this guy called? Al... aldric?" Carver asked as she was recounting the abuse she ahd suffered at her job, and Hawke nodded. "Jesus. Call up the police. Report this bastard."

They were all sitting around for a family meal, of what little soup Hawke could afford at her salary. Hawke sighed, knowing that wasn't the answer, but didn't speak anything. Carver was just full of hot air, and none of it would come to anything.

"Carver..." Leandra, their mother, a woman of ageing skin and greying hair, sighed. Her two sons could be too much, sometimes. She was grateful to have Bethany, to at least have another woman in the house, away from their violent minds. Now, her dear little Aidan was having struggles with his masculinity, but surely that would pass soon. It had to just be a phase, an emotional response from the death of her husband, of their father.

"I'm serious." Carver emphasised. "Even if what he's doing is legal, he might not be. Call up the FBI. Make sure he's legal, he might not be. Ship his ass back to out to cheese land, or wherever the hell he comes from."

"Carver..." Leandra sighed again, and he shrugged.

"It's fine." Hawke held up her hand, trying to broker peace in her own family. Carver was something of a hothead, and mother never knew how to let things go. "Really. Work is work, and it's all good."

"You sure?" Carver asked. "You say the word and I'll go talk to this guy. Set him straight." Hawke gave a pained little smile and shook her head. "Really, I will."

"I know. But really, it's fine." Hawke nodded emphatically. "Now, please, can we change the subject?" Carver shrugged, and continued drinking to deal with the awful taste of the food.

A minute later, he looked at his watch, and ushered them all into the next room. Hawke groaned as she forced herself to stand on wobbling legs until she found her way to the ratty, broken old couch. Carver turned up the TV up as loud as it would go, the words pounding in her head as she tried to pay attention. Carver had been keeping himself quiet all day about what he had done that day at his police job, and this must have been what he was waiting for.

Carver was on the news of the evening, standing in his uniform and looking all polished and official, puffed up like a rooster.

"-At which point we apprehended all three suspects, and placed them in custody. I am proud to say that the outstanding professionalism shown by me and my colleagues allowed for a substantial amount of narcotics to be taken off of the streets."

The Carver sitting next to them smiled and puffed himself up to look like the one on the screen. Hawke tried to listen as the rest of it continued on, she really did, but in the end the words began to blur together into a single, ringing noise in her ears. She honestly couldn't find a single damn to give about Carver's job. She loved him, she really did, but she had worked all day to make enough money for him to pursue a career that paid so little. All she could think about now was whiskey and sleep.

"Aidan?" Carver called, and she looked up at hearing her birth name. "Were you listening to me?" Hawke sighed and shook her head reluctantly. She opened her mouth to apologize and explain she had been given a rough day, but he spoke first. "You're always like this! This is important to me, and you don't care at all!"

"Carver!" Leandra chided, taking on that good natured motherly look. "Your brother works very hard all day!"

The words striking Hawke like a slap across the face, she stood and turned away so no one could see her angry, hurt expression.

"I'm going to Caroline's." She said simply, and stormed out.

Caroline was her lover, as best as it could be described. Hawke had loved her, once. Once, she had been a happy, energetic girl who had accepted Hawke wholeheartedly. But that was long since gone, and Hawke only stayed with her out of a sense of loneliness, out of not wanting to be alone.

"Hey." She greeted, painting on a smile when she found her lover sitting alone. "I was-"

"You're here." Caroline greeted. "Good. Go cook dinner, and then be in bed for sex before the sun sets."

"Oh." Hawke's smile fell a little, but she picked up again. "Okay. I-I love you."

"Mm." She grunted, and waved Hawke off.

Hawke lay on her back in bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling. Caroline lay in the same bed, but as far away as she could go.

Caroline had used her until she was satisfied, then rolled off and went to sleep without bothering to wait for Hawke to finish. Not giving a single thought for her supposed lover. She was trapped in a loveless, passionless relationship.

She pushed the covers off, and Caroline sleepily claimed them all. Hawke sighed, and stood, dressing herself and heading out and into the streets, alone.

She sat down in the gutters, and wept.