Note: Originally, I wrote this for myself as a sort of songfic, with little snippets from "Insight" by Joy Division; for copyright reasons, those have been replaced by placeholders here to indicate changes of scene. So it probably makes even less sense now ... (but you can of course still listen to the song while reading to get the mood).

[...]

"I'm a freak."
The second training session in running the ship's systems hadn't exactly gone as planned either. Too many simulated and then real malfunctions at once, meanwhile a heated debate in the hallway next to them, a tired and soon overstimulated Switch who now was hiding behind a stack of crates, hugging her knees while sitting on the floor.
"Why? Because you haven't adjusted to reality yet?"
"Will never. Not like them … you. The normal ones."
"So what? You don't have to be them."
"But what if I want to?"

A sigh made its way up to Apoc's throat, but he managed to catch it just in time. This was not the first time they were having this conversation this week, but he knew it was necessary. Processing things was necessary. Even if it meant missing lunch.
Trying to add warmth without sounding patronizing, he started over: "I don't think you really want to be them, you simply want to feel secure in being part of the group, being accepted. Words are too superficial, and their actions still too much of foreign language for you to trust your own interpretation, isn't it?"

She shrugged, half convinced. "I never had the words."
"You will, one day."
Pause. A careful adjustment of face and tone. "Might steal yours."

[...]

"Show me how to blend in." Trying to keep the growing desperation out of her voice didn't work as well as intended, which made her even more antsy.
"Truth?" The slightest hesitation. " I don't think you can." He held up a hand to keep her from interrupting, a loathed gesture she was all too familiar with but managed to respect for the moment. "I'm honest with you, because I'd rather work with the real you than try to help you force yourself halfway into the skin of a stranger just to find yourself stuck with no way out in either direction. I'm not saying to give up, I'm saying you might want to consider a slight change in direction."

Switch huffed, annoyed both at his eloquence and her own curiosity, then asked, "Meaning?"
"You don't have to be the same to be a part that fits in. For now, let's start with some more hand-to-hand combat lessons. Come on." He held out his hand and she allowed herself to be pulled up from her spot on the floor.

[...]

Weeks had gone by and she had noticed her RSI still wasn't as stable as the ones of the others. Trinity was slick, dark and fluid, with minor variations on the theme. Morpheus had his strange hero-villain suit, colors mocking the world. Apoc looked the same every time they entered the construct, always the perfect balance of clean-cut and casual. Sharp.

Somehow, she herself had ended up with pretty much the opposite of that today.
White leather: something she never would have worn, never would have been able to afford in her old life. Something that maybe hadn't even existed in this shape before this very moment, but it was soft, and strong, and comfortable: a skin of light, diffuse. If you can't join them, beat them.

Maybe she was done with hiding in the shadows.
Why the rather scruffy undershirt though, she didn't know. Subconscious manifestations were surely odd.

The only thing she knew afterwards was she wanted to be seen. Be seen for once down to the bones weary of carrying masks of increasing weight as the years accumulated in her nervous system, so much social dirt finding its way into the nonexistent gears and clogging her mind. She didn't know who she was anymore, just that she needed this feeling for once, being seen, and not only by one or two confidants in hiding. Today had given her a taste of it. And yet, it filled her with fear.

It was a clash of urges, being seen and curling up to protect her otherness from being seen. Stupid brain.

[...]

"So you amped up the difference to a max, and made it into a look, so nobody will question the deeper differences because the outside is so blatantly other?" Apoc looked concerned yet amused over his soggy dinner.

"Might be."

The now familiar way she modulated her voice just a tad too much told him she she hadn't done it on purpose, but was wanted to pretend she had. Carefully, he went on. "You're more than your appearance."

"But that 'more', it's nobody's business."
"Can it at least be mine?"
"Maybe." She winked, deliberate, slowly, measured, before disappearing for the night.

Maybe she had been spending a little too much time in his company; his own brand of sass had started to rub off.

[...]

"Ready for your first job?"
"No. But let's go."

[...]