The idea for this story came a couple months ago, after I had a conversation with a friend about politics/social issues and fanfiction. I think it's hard to really bring up social issues in a fandom like this, because it's in the future. You can't really know what the problems are going to be. But, as a huge fan of slash in Trek fandom, I wanted to know what kind of LGBT issues would be going on in the 23rd century. This fic, after a /long/ time spent researching (much love to Memory Alpha for teaching me), is the speculative answer to that question. I have nine chapters planned, each with a different character, going from the Eugenics Wars of the 90s to the crew of the Enterprise in the 2280s. Enjoy, and any feedback would be /much/ appreciated.

1990

"A monumental discovery, Dr. Kochava," Don Haley says, shaking her hand. He's dressed much too casually, his sleeves rolled up and a small rainbow bracelet on his right wrist. An activist, and one of the younger crowd at that.

"Thank you."

He smiles, big and bright and innocent. He reminds Arin of her son, how he looked when he walked into Tel Aviv University. The way he waved, grin nearly splitting his face in two. He had studied anthropology and history in their Institute of Jewish Studies. Lev had never been like her, she who was so obsessed with science, with her research. Lev loved people, loved them in a way Arin never understood until now.

"Your work will be a great help to us," Don continues, speaking Hebrew, but heavily accented. "And… A credit to Lev's memory," he says in a softer voice.

Arin plasters on a smile, giving Don's hand a squeeze before letting go, pressing her fingers into the soft fabric of her skirt over her thighs. She straightens her suit jacket, unsure of what to say next. "Yes," she murmurs. "I believe he would be very proud of what we have accomplished. Thank you."

Don looks as if he wants to say more, but instead he gives her a sympathetic look and drifts back into the crowd.

Arin heads straight for the bar for a glass of wine.

"You must know," comes a voice from behind her, "This will not be well received."

She smiles at him, the smile she has been practicing tactfully all evening. "Uzi Even," she says, shaking his hand.

"But," he continues, hands dropping to his sides, "I welcome it."

"Thank you, Dr. Even," Arin says. "I hope that all people will one day come to share your opinion."

He pauses, head cocked to the side just slightly. Arin can almost see him thinking. "As do I," he says, finally. "And I do not wish to discourage you, Doctor. You have done much to bring acceptance to the LGBT community, not only in Israel but in the world, and the discovery of this gene will go far to helping the world understand us. However… I must warn you that it will not be well received, not yet."

He glances around the room at all the intellectuals, the professors, the politicians. "Here, we are free to speak of such things without fear. The world will be another matter. People are difficult to convince."

"I understand, Dr. Even," Arin says, taking a long sip of her wine. "Trust that I will do all I can to create such a world. It is my goal that all people might be loved and accepted."

"A worthy endeavor, Dr. Kochava."

"Thank you."

1988

They won't let her into the ICU at first. She has to sit, in the hard, fake leather chairs of the waiting room, surrounded by doctors and noise and an awful, sterile smell. She tries to flick through a magazine, skims absently through Uzi Even's newest article, on the quantum properties of helium clusters. Arin is a biologist, not a chemist, but she tries to read it because Uzi Even is one of Lev's favorite professors and it is as close as she can get to her son right now.

By the time the nurse comes to get her, Arin is falling asleep, curled uncomfortably in her chair. The soft hand on her shoulder brings her back to the waking world with a painful jerk, and Arin sits up ram-rod straight as the nurse tells her that Lev is dead.

An aneurysm. He was twenty-seven, only a few years out of college. Arin sobs, there in the waiting room, curls up tight around herself in that awful chair. Cries for all the things her son accomplished and for all the things he would never do. For all the work, the work he loved so much, that would be left unfinished.

Arin calls Jadon, Lev's boyfriend. He brings her coffee and they cry together. Jadon goes in to see him, before they take his body away. Arin can't.

1986

When Arin comes home, Lev is sitting at the table, fingers running through his dark, curly hair. She sits next to him, leaving her bag leaning against the wall. He leans against her, head on her shoulder, as he did when he was a child.

"They say we are not normal," he tells her, voice low and sad. "Yesterday, they threatened Jadon. I cannot… I do not understand, Mother. Professor Even says to leave it be, that they are simply acting upon ignorance. He says that our work with Don's group is enough. But…" He trails off, voice almost a whisper. Arin wraps her arm around his shoulder, holding him close.

"But you are normal, my son," she soothes. "You are normal and you are beautiful and I am so proud of you. We must simply make them see."

"How?"

Arin smiles. "The only way I know how."

"Mother, it has never been scientifically proven that—"

"Yet," Arin insists, brushing through Lev's unruly hair. "I will prove it. You will see. And then they will have nothing to say to you."

She stands, determined. "Come," she says, pulling up on her son's arm. "Help me make dinner. You are so skinny, Lev! You and your always studying. I was the same way in university. Your father had to bring me food in the lab to get me to eat."

Lev laughs, that laugh she loves so much, and follows.

1990

"You've caused quite an uproar in the medical community, Dr. Kochava," Uzi says, motioning for her to sit. "And I have never seen a group of university students more excited. Don's group is doing a wonderful job here in Tel Aviv."

Arin sinks down into the proffered chair, large and comfortable on her aching back. "I hear he is moving to Jerusalem," she says, sipping her tea.

"Yes, and I hope all God's help go with him. And with you, Doctor. I hear you are going to Europe, then to America?"

Arin nods. "I have been asked to speak at so many places. I think this is progress. I hope so."

"As do I," Uzi agrees, taking a drink of his own tea. "It will take time for people to become accustomed to this, as it does for all things, but I think you are right."

Arin looks out the window at the campus. There is still a part of her that aches for Lev, that burns every time she realizes he will never walk these halls again. It is what keeps her going, most days. What makes her sure that she must succeed.

1992

She switches off the news and calls Don and Jadon. Jadon arrives first, knocking fast and anxious at her door. He hugs her tight, doesn't want an explanation, not yet. Not until she's ready. She is glad to know that, if nothing else, Lev picked a good boy. It is hollow consolation, but it is all she has, sometimes.

Don rings the doorbell, just as Jadon has gotten Arin to sit down, stop pacing. He pours Arin a glass of wine and sits next to her as she tells them about Project Ubermensch.

"They used my research," she says at the end. "They're using my research for genetic engineering."

Jadon squeezes her hand. No one says anything for a long time.

"What do you think it means?" Don asks, finally, and from the way Jadon's grip loosens Arin knows it is the question they both wanted to ask.

"I don't know," Arin admits, letting go of Jadon's hand. "They… On the news, they spoke of it as a good thing, as progress. They say it will make all our lives better." She looks down at her hands, clasped on her lap. "Perhaps, it might have stopped the aneurysm, had they developed it earlier. And I cannot help but think… I do not want any mother to go through that. But still... I wonder about this. If it is truly for our benefit."

Don shakes his head. "I do not know." He stands, puts a hand on Arin's shoulder. "My flight back to Jerusalem leaves early tomorrow," he says by way of apology and goodbye. Arin nods.

"Be safe, and God be with you."

"Thank you, Doctor."