Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans.

Lost Souls

Emily Jenkins dove into the abandoned alleyway, hiding behind a dumpster and carefully listening for sounds of pursuit. The only thing she heard was the distant screech of sirens. Satisfied that she had not been followed, she dug a battered looking candy bar from the pocket of her tattered sweatshirt, hurriedly tore the wrapper off, and began voraciously stuffing it into her mouth. Anyone would think it had been days since she last ate. They wouldn't have been far wrong.

After licking the last remnants of chocolate from the wrapper, she dropped it onto one of the piles of refuse lining the wall. She couldn't help but wish that she had more than just a single candy bar, but that was all she had managed to get away with. The attendant at the gas station had been suspicious of her the instant she walked through the door. Emily couldn't really blame him. It was obvious from her dirty, stringy, unkempt hair, from her mismatched, torn, and ragged clothes, from the dark circles under her eyes and the hollowness in her cheeks, that she didn't have any money. The fact that she was so young, barely entering her teen years, probably didn't help either. Regardless, he had watched her like a hawk as she began browsing the aisles.

It wasn't until another customer had entered the store to pay for gas that she grabbed a few items and tried to casually slip them into her sweatshirt. She had thought at the time that her actions had gone unnoticed. But as soon as she opened the glass door to exit, the attendant came around the counter and grabbed her by the arm, shaking her and screaming at her, the tell-tale items falling onto the floor. Desperate and frightened, she tried to pull away. She flung out her free hand towards the door to try and hang onto it. That's when it happened. The gas pumps had suddenly exploded, a fiery maelstrom of destruction, shaking the very ground, shattering the windows of the store and knocking her and the attendant off their feet.

Ignoring the myriad small cuts on her hands and face, Emily jumped to her feet and ran, only pausing to grab a candy bar off the floor.

And now here she was, huddled behind a dumpster, feeling cold and hungry and alone. Guilt was quickly added to that list when the sudden appearance of flashing lights made her warily peek around the edge of the dumpster just long enough to see a firetruck and ambulance speed by the entrance of the alley. They were undoubtedly headed towards the place she had just left. The place where the gas pumps had exploded...

Emily shook her head quickly. That wasn't my fault. It was an accident, just an accident...

But try as she might, she couldn't deny that these "accidents" had been occurring around her with more and more frequency. They had always been a part of her life, for as long as she could remember, but recently they had happened more often, and on a larger scale. The fact that these mishaps generally occurred in some way advantageous to her, that they were perhaps the only thing that kept her from starving, did very little to ease her conscience. But it didn't matter. She could neither control nor predict them. And they did keep her from starving.

Shoving her hands under her armpits for warmth, Emily sat back against the wall. She wouldn't be able to stay here. She would have to find some place a little more substantial before tonight, some place where she wouldn't freeze. For now, though, the alley and the dumpster did a good job of blocking the icy wind. With a deep sigh she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, feeling that this had been her life forever.

It hadn't always been like this, though, moving around looking for shelter, stealing just to survive. In truth the young girl had only been on the streets for a few months. Her life before that, while not really happy, had at least been a little easier. A strange observation, considering she had lived in a tiny, two room apartment in a dilapidated, roach-infested building in the poorest part of town with her mother. Her mother, the heroine addict who did her very best to ignore the fact that Emily existed. When she did bother to notice Emily, it was usually to yell at her, screaming at her for whatever may have gone wrong that day.

Even in those days Emily had always had to fend for herself. She would find what she could to eat in the kitchen, or from neighbors, or, when she was a little older, by walking four blocks through the roughest part of town to the foodbank for whatever canned goods they could spare.

Emily had no idea who her father was, and thought that her mother probably didn't know either. Maybe some guy from the building, or one of her druggie friends, or a dope dealer who happened to take "alternative" forms of payment, or maybe even some rich guy who came downtown looking for a good time. There was no way to know, and Emily didn't really care. As far as she was concerned he was just a sperm-donor.

The part of her previous life that Emily missed the most was school. It was a place to go to get away from her house, away from her mother. A place where she could receive attention and encouragement from adults. A place where they served breakfast and lunch every weekday, free to those unable to pay. And even though most of the kids made fun of her, and teased her, and played jokes on her because of the way she looked, and because she was so obviously poor, she did have a few people to hang out with at lunch and sit with in class.

So, while not a truly happy life, she had at least had a roof over her head, and someone to talk to sometimes, and never went more than a day or two without something to eat. All of that had ended a few months ago.

She had been sitting in the apartment, working on her math homework. Her mom walked through, ignoring her as usual, heading to the door, leaving for the night to demean herself in whatever way possible to score her next hit. Just as her mom was about to walk out, Emily reached for her glass of water, only to knock it off the table to shatter on the floor. She braced herself for the screaming tirade that was bound to be let loose, but it never came. Instead her mother had just looked at her in disgust and said, "I swear you are the worst fuckin' thing that ever happened to me. It's like you're some goddamned curse to make my life as shitty as possible." And she walked out the door.

Those words were etched into Emily's mind forever, because they were the last words she ever heard her mother say. She never came back. Emily had no idea what happened to her, whether or not she was even still alive, but she never came back. Two weeks later, when Emily came home from school, the door to the apartment was padlocked and there was an eviction notice posted. She had no home left, and no one to take her in. Ever since that day, she had lived on the streets.

Whenever she closed her eyes, whenever she had a moment to herself where she wasn't just scrambling to survive, her mind would replay that final encounter with her mother. That's what she was doing now, huddled down in the alley behind the dumpster, watching the one person who should have loved her more than anything abandon her, over and over again.

Preoccupied in this way, she didn't notice the man enter the alley and walk towards her.

"Well, my dear, that was quite the impressive display."

The smooth voice startled her out of her reverie. She jumped to her feet, quickly wiping her eyes, and turned to the man.

He was an older man. Not really old, just older. He stood tall and straight. His face was not wrinkled, and his eyes shone enchantingly blue and clear beneath his dark eyebrows. In fact, the perception of age seemed to come entirely from his incongruously white hair, and from the obvious wisdom apparent in his mesmerizing eyes.

Emily watched him warily, keeping her back to the wall. "What the hell are you talking about?"

The man chuckled as he continued to walk closer. "Come now, we both know what I am talking about." He waved his hand in the general direction of the gas station she had just come from.

Emily sidled a few steps down the alley, maintaining the distance between them and trying to keep the nervousness out of voice. "I don't know what you're talking about. Leave me alone."

He raised an eyebrow at her statement. "Surely, my dear, you do. That little fireworks display at the gas station? I was there. I saw it."

Fear clutched at Emily's heart at these words. He knew. She glanced around looking for an escape route, but he was blocking the only exit. She would have no chance at making it by him. All she had left was bravado. "Yeah, well, you saw what I can do then. So you better leave me the fuck alone!"

His eyes narrowed for a moment. "I am not entirely sure that I approve of your language, young lady."

"Yeah, well, I'm not entirely sure that I give a shit, mister."

Surprisingly, this made him laugh. That laughter, the twinkling of his eyes, somehow relaxed Emily, made her more at ease with the man.

"Well, my dear, you certainly have spirit. Allow me to introduce myself. I am the headmaster of the Hive Academy for Exceptional Young People."

"The what?"

"A school for young adults that have been gifted in amazing ways. People like you."

"Me? What do you mean?"

"I mean your powers. What else would you call them but gifts. At the Hive Academy, we can teach you to control them, to bend them to your will."

Emily's eyes widened in surprise. Control. Control of her strange powers. With it she could stop from hurting people, and maybe even provide for herself. But it couldn't be that easy. Nothing ever was.

"I don't have any money."

The man's smile did not falter for a moment. "Well, my dear, after what I witnessed earlier, I think it's safe to say that you can consider yourself to be on full scholarship. We have dorms for you to stay in, a cafeteria for meals. We can even give you a clothing allowance, if you wish to update your wardrobe a bit."

It sounded amazing. Too good, actually. Emily was still hesitant. If she had learned one thing in this world, it was that nothing was free. "Why? Why would you have this school? How do I even know there is a school. You could just be some fuckin' psycho running around abducting kids."

He gave a deep sigh. "We will have to work on your language, won't we? But to answer your question, the school exists to help those that the world won't help. People who are outcasts, who are alone. The school is a place for them to go and learn, both a normal curriculum and our more specialized classes, without being judged or picked on or teased. The Academy is a place for those without a place, a home for those without a home, and a family for those without a family."

The dulcet tones of his voice rang sweetly in her mind. It was everything she could want. A chance to go to school again. A place to sleep, food to eat, clothes to wear. Friends. And that one word that struck a chord with every longing in her heart. Family. A chance to finally experience a real family. But still, there had to be a catch...

When she didn't respond immediately, the man continued. "It is a once in a lifetime opportunity, my dear. A chance that won't come again. Look at me, look me in the eyes." He took a step closer. "You can trust me. This is a chance for you. Can you honestly look at me and tell me it's not something you want?"

Emily met his gaze. His bright blue eyes shining with a luminescent intensity. Those eyes swam before her vision, blocking out everything else. All she could see were his eyes. And suddenly it all made sense. All the objections that rose in her mind suddenly seemed petty and childish. Why was she even hesitating? She could trust this man. He was offering her more than she could ever hope for. Barely even aware that she was doing so, she answered him. "Please sir, take me to the school."

The Headmaster smiled wide as he clapped his hands together. "Excellent! Come with me, then, Miss... er, I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name."

Emily blinked, trying to dispel the fog in her mind. "My name?"

The Headmaster chuckled, spreading his hands out as he replied. "Well, I certainly can't keep calling you 'my dear', can I? I will need some way to introduce you to your classmates."

She hesitated, somehow reluctant to give up her name in spite of the trust that seemed to radiate from him. Seeing this, he quickly reassured her. "Of course, it need not be your real name. In fact, most of my students choose a new name for themselves, something that separates them from their past. For example, there are two young gentleman who have taken the monikers of Gizmo and Mammoth. Not exactly Tom, Dick, or Harry, is it? You are welcome to choose anything you like, your real name or a nickname."

Emily thought for a moment. Separate herself from the past. That sounded nice, like it was a new beginning. But she didn't really have a nickname. It's not like she had ever had a father to call her princess, and the nicest thing her strung-out mother had ever called her was "worthless". Even at school, the only name she went by (other than the insults flung by the other students) was Emily. Except for Coach Perkins, the very fat and stupid gym teacher. He had insisted on addressing everyone by their last names, so to him she was Jenkins. Sometimes even that was too much for his Neanderthal mind to grasp, and he would shorten it to Jenks.

Suddenly, she once again remembered the final words of her mother. She remembered the incident at the gas station. She remembered every bad thing, all the "accidents", that had happened around her throughout her life, and she knew there was only one name that she could go by.

She looked up at the Headmaster. "Call me Jinx."

A/N: And another one-shot. Once again, an attempt at something new. My other stories have been either romance or comedy, so I wanted to try my hand at something of a different genre. I also thought it might be fun to write about someone other than the actual Titans, so I settled on everyone's favorite ex-villainess. I tried to transition to and from the flashback scenes as smoothly as I could, but it might still be a little convoluted. Let me know if you found any of that at all confusing.

This is just a brief glimpse into Jinx's back story, or at least my version of it. It's something that is never really addressed in the show (or the comics, I've been told). Obviously, this takes place well before the first season of the show.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you all very much for reading, especially to those that take the time to review. I will be sure to reply to all signed reviews, unless specifically requested not to. Any and all reviews are appreciated and criticisms are viewed as an opportunity to improve my writing.

Thanks!

Coeus