My Lives As Fate's Chew Toy

Introduction

Summary: Being trapped in a cycle of endless reincarnation with all the memories of your past lives brought along for the ride feels a lot like being made into Fate's own personal Chew Toy.

Just call me Chewie; CT for short.

A/N: Beta by the lovely Banshee-hime!

Oh oh Death
Ohhh Death
Oh oh Death,
Won't you spare me over and over?

But what is this, that I can't see?
With ice cold hands taking hold of me...
When God is gone and the Devil takes hold,
Who'll have mercy on your soul?

Oh oh Death
Ohhh Death
Oh oh Death

(Oh oh Death)
No wealth, no ruin, no silver, no gold.
Nothing satisfies me but your soul.

(Oh oh Death)
Well I am Death, none can excel,
I'll open the door to heaven or hell.

Oh oh Death
Ohhh Death
My name is Death and the end is here…

O Death - Jen Titus

Reincarnation wasn't something I'd ever seriously considered. I mean, sure, I acknowledged that it was possible, but not something that anyone could or would remember or be aware of happening; that was kind of the point. While I admit I loved fanfiction with various reincarnated characters remembering their past lives, it was just that – fanfiction. A fantasy – not something that was actually real. Just something fun to read or think about that would never, ever happen. Not least because the idea of being reborn into a fictional universe was patently ridiculous; no matter how amazing it seemed in theory.

Admittedly, that mindset feels incredibly foreign to me now; even though I can still remember having it. Actually being reborn into stories has a way of changing your perspective – I find it easier now to consider that all life is essentially one big story somewhere; to accept that we are all characters in some other universe's fiction.

While I always did privately adore the infinite universe theory that in addition to multiple alternate universes there were also multiple alternate realities where the laws of the universes and their realities themselves could be different – and therefore fiction writers might not be imaginative so much as possessing a sixth sense that allowed them to intuitively perceive events from those alternate universes and realities – it wasn't something I ever thought could or would be proven. Mainly because it was as incredible and unlikely as it would be awesome, and real life is just not that cool.

Ha.

Looking back, I really wanted to kick my past self for jinxing me. Because being cool in theory does not necessarily translate to being cool in practice.

For one thing, reincarnation is actually unbelievably traumatizing. Speaking from experience, I have to say that forgetting the process is as honestly as much about suppression of trauma as it is about starting over fresh – and that the subconscious triggering of said repressed trauma is probably why living beings possess a survival instinct.

For another, worlds that are cool to read and think about are not always cool to live in. Some of them are actually completely terrifying or horrific or both; and the reality of living in them is sickening. Some of them simply haven't had the social revolutions which this one has had, and equal rights don't exist.

It's enough to make my original life seem like a paradise, for all that I struggled with depression and mental health issues at the time. Enough that I can't help regarding my return to my original universe as a sort of vacation, for all that my myriad health issues should (and often do) make me very miserable.

Nevertheless, I'm taking the opportunity to relax in this safe, boring world – because as much as a small part of me hopes that returning here signals an end to this exhausting cycle, I've become far too cynical and disillusioned to expect it. All I can really do is be grateful for the reprieve, and devote all of my time that isn't taken up by my illness to decompressing and recovering in a bid to preserve as much of my remaining sanity as I can, for as long as possible. I'm either pessimistic enough or pragmatic enough to realise that I'm fighting a losing battle – people shouldn't remember past lives for a reason – but I'd prefer to put my inevitable slide into total and complete madness off for as long as possible. I'm self-aware enough to admit that I'm not entirely sane as it is, and I have no idea what my looping will look like after the rest of my mind goes.

Sometimes, lately I'm tired enough that I almost don't care anymore; I'm mentally and emotionally exhausted, and everything just hurts so much. Every time I die and am reborn, I'm grieving. I don't know what happens to my loved ones when they die, or after I'm gone – the one thing I know for certain is that I will never see them again. Even if I'm reborn into a world where I've lived previously, they won't be the same. The events and experiences that bound us together; the things that shaped us and made them into the people I knew and loved are different; even if only because I wasn't there to affect things, or because I affected things differently.

While I can change things to fall out the way they did previously, they still won't ever share the memories with me that their counterparts did. I can rebuild relationships and forge new ones with these familiar-yet-different versions of my old family and friends, but it never can and never will replace the old ones. It just serves as a constant reminder of my losses, and provides me with new ones to carry with me into my next incarnation. I can prevent old mistakes from occurring, resolve old regrets; but it's never quite right – it leaves me with new guilts and doubts about whether I'm dishonoring the memories of my old loved ones, and whether I'm doing my new ones a disservice or not.

Do I really love them for themselves, or for the other versions of them that I once knew? Is it fair of me to build relationships with people I might always be comparing with other versions of themselves in my head? Is it fair for me to forge these bonds under false pretences – when I know almost everything about them, and they have no idea? Am I manipulating them when I act to save them pain? Is it playing God for me to unilaterally make decisions about their futures like that? Is it selfish of me, even when I know the events I plan to change were ones that played a pivotal role in making them the people I knew and loved, just for the chance to spare them life-altering traumas? Or would it be far more selfish not to do so? Is it better or worse for me to get personally involved in their lives, or keep my distance while meddling from afar?

Sometimes the distance isn't even because they aren't the same people I once knew. Sometimes there's another, physically older/metaphysically younger version of me already there, being part of their lives; living an existence that was once mine, of which I can now only exist on the outskirts. It's a surreal feeling, being jealous of your own past self. To be trapped on the outside, watching a happiness long since lost to you with an aching, bittersweet longing curling around the edges of the dark void of emptiness that fills you; precious memories soured by the sharp tang of old grief and resentful jealousy.

So yes; I need this time – a chance to stop; to just breathe. To live in a world where I don't know the future; to be a part of a story where I don't know the plot, and I don't have to deal with the wearisome sense of responsibility that follows. My health seems such a small price to pay for the sheer relief of not having to save the world. Again.

Because whether I'm born into the role of a hero or not; whether my new life is fated or destined or somehow special, or even if there's absolutely nothing remarkable about my 'character' at all – if I know what's going to happen, if I have the opportunity to avert tragedy and don't take it… Well. I've always been a firm believer in the words of John Stewart Mills – that "The only thing necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing." Add in my overblown guilt-complex and I can't really relegate myself to a bystander.

It really doesn't help that one of my most precious people in my first rebirth was one of the first casualties of a tragedy I hadn't regained the memories of until after it had already happened, and that many of the horrors that came after might have been averted had I finished awakening in time to prevent it.

The problem is that being a hero is hard. Saving the world is frequently an exhausting, monumental task; and more often than not, a thankless one. Just because you know something's wrong, or about to go wrong, doesn't mean you're in a position to do something about it. Oh, you can always do something; it's just that that something isn't necessarily very effective. You're not always born in a time and place and under circumstances that give you an opportunity to affect meaningful change with the information you have. More often than not, the actions you take to change that are incomprehensible to the people around you – you may come across as disturbing, immoral, or just plain crazy to those who don't know the things you do. And dying stupidly without actually accomplishing anything is frustrating in a lot of different ways.

Sometimes you have to get your hands dirty – even to the point of making yourself a villain. I've done some things that I might never forgive myself for, made choices that sometimes make it hard to sleep – knowing that you chose the lesser evil doesn't make it any easier to live with. I've been labelled dangerous and executed for treason more than once. While that's easier to stomach than ending up with innocent blood on my hands, I try to make sure that it doesn't happen without either being able to send warnings and whatever evidence I've found to someone who can and will do something with them, or if that fails at least loudly and publicly proclaiming the reasons for my actions in the hopes that someone who hears decides to investigate. It's not so much about clearing my name posthumously as it is about not wanting my efforts to go to waste.

Even when you are thanked for your efforts, it often results in unwanted expectations, heavy burdens, and overwhelming responsibilities you're neither prepared nor equipped to handle. Saving the world once is seen as some sort of sign, especially when you've been fated to do so; as if you're suddenly obligated to clean up after society. As if your sacrifices and efforts for the greater good of everyone suddenly bestow upon them the right to demand things of you – like you've become some kind of public commodity, and rights are only things that other people have, not heroes. It's especially frustrating when society digs its heels in and tries to avoid changing anything that led to the problems in the first place. Then you can either walk away, or change things by force – neither of which are appreciated.

Between the constant pain of losing loved ones, of reconnecting for the first time with beloved strangers who are at once both familiar and different and mourning those who shared your memories; between the variety of struggles and challenges each world throws at you simply for existing, and the sometimes insurmountable task of preventing tragedies – the whole thing is simply exhausting. While physically being reborn means that the physical consequences of each life are separate from the next, the mental and emotional toll carries over.

Sometimes the pain and grief and exhaustion just crystallises into apathy – everything just feels so pointless; especially when I know that I'll be reborn into another version of my current world sooner or later. Feeling like you're living variations of the same life over and over again, where you have to accomplish the same things each time, even if the methods and the basic trappings of your existence differ… it's getting harder and harder for me to consider myself a 'good person'. At times I feel like a stranger to the girl I once was. I know she wouldn't recognize me – she hasn't. Sometimes, all that's really holding me together is the thought that if there is some kind of afterlife out there, if my loved ones really are watching over me… I don't want them to be ashamed of who I become.

So finding myself back here, in my universe of origin where I don't have any foreknowledge… it's an opportunity for healing that is very much needed. While a lifetime of chronic pain, exhaustion, illness, and an ultimately terminal diagnosis isn't terribly relaxing, being able to focus on myself and my own issues is extremely liberating. There's even a therapy I attend; which is meant to help me deal with living with chronic health issues, come to terms with terminal illness, and prepare and plan for things to get worse. Since it's not like there's anything similar to cover the complications caused by repeated reincarnation, it really helps that a lot of the concepts are transferable.

Part of the decompressing and recovering I'm doing involves writing out the things I've been through. Full disclosure in therapy isn't exactly an option unless I want to spend the rest of my life in a psych ward, and I spend enough time hospitalized as is. But I need to get it out, and I need to tell someone. So I find myself writing my memoirs, wondering what the people I leave behind in this life will make of them when I'm gone. Even if I never finish them in this life, perhaps someday I'll have another chance to pick up where I left off.

In the end, I find it incredibly ironic that the first time I find myself returning to my original universe, the only place for me to publish my memoirs is as fanfiction; and that after everything I've been through, no one will ever believe it to be anything more than just another story.

A/N: If you would like to add to this series with your own stories featuring other reincarnations of CT, just let me know so I can link you as a contributing author. If I get enough interest I'll create a collection anyone can add to on their own, but it seems a bit early to make assumptions like that, so for now I'm just making the offer.

I'd prefer it if you check with me to make sure that you won't be contradicting any of the stories I have plotted out to write myself for continuity purposes, but I can probably work around it regardless - I'm honestly hoping that the memoirs become a sort of community project, in which case CT would be a communal OC that I wouldn't have exclusive rights to, anyway. I intend to create an additional reincarnated OC as CT's little brother in the first story, who would have the same problem with dying as ze does. This offers up another potential OC that could be used.

Stories can be set in any fandom - the only restriction is that, due to the process that resulted in zir repeated reincarnations, all stories set before the incarnation where ze begins publishing zir memoirs have to be set in fandoms where there are either powers/abilities or advanced medical tech that allow an infant to survive the shock and trauma of reincarnation. Ze can be reborn as anyone - an OC or a canon character, and can even be reborn into worlds where ze was born previously - either AU from zir past lives in that world or even as someone else living in the world at the same time as zir own past self.

While ze was female in zir first life, ze has enough lifetimes alternating gender to deal with dysphoria and can be written as male, female, or anything in between.

Earlier reincarnations can include various levels of dysphoria, up to and including being trans; but I intend to have zir eventually become comfortable identifying as genderfluid, with a preference for female.

If you want to write an OC who is male or trans male, you can use the little brother OC.

I look forward to seeing what other people come up with!