Story Title: Gypsy's Curse
Summary: After the events of Alkali Lake, Carolina is still suffering from aftershocks caused by Dark Cerebro. And while Wolverine, Storm and her friends strive to keep her sanity in check, Professor Xavier begins to teach her how to control her growing powers, but with the possibility of a cure on the horizon Carolina must choose whether to keep her power of empathy and give up a life she's always known for one that she's always wanted but could never have.
Warnings: This story is rated for language and violence.
Genres: Angst/Drama/Romance
Disclaimer: If I owned the X-Men, I would be the happiest person alive. Seriously. Because if I did, I'd have a character modeled after me and she'd be having a happy little affair with a certain pyromaniac.
Author's Note: So - here it is! It's been a long time coming, I know, sorry to have kept you guys waiting for so long. I was busy re-writing/editing Gypsy because I realized that there were a lot of things that I didn't add and needed to tighten up. I hope that you all enjoyed the new version and also enjoy this fic as well. A lot of things will become clear. Big thanks to those who have followed the story here and I hope that you'll review. Please review. It's my drug, my healthy drug lol. Anyway, enjoy!
Chapter One:
Scars on The Soul
"Hmm. It's nice out, isn't it?" asked a tangled and distorted voice, sounding content.
I barely reacted to the sound of the voice, hardly acknowledged the question it asked. I wasn't at all surprised or even startled by the fact that that I was hearing voices - no, that's wrong. Not voices with an 's'. No 's'. It was only one voice. One. Voice. Or, V as I preferred to call, whatever, whoever it was speaking to me - in my head, that most people wouldn't, shouldn't, couldn't.
Sighing, I reached up and scratched the back of my head with blunt nails, mindful of the scars even though the stitches had been removed along time ago and faded, - guessed that old habits died hard - and bent my legs, hugging them to my chest as I stared at the glimmering pool water.
I was outside of the school - Charles Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, which appeared to look like any other typical private school on the outside as much as it did on the inside. The only thing that was really different were the students, who possessed abilities unimaginable - sitting outside beside the pool and occasionally looking up at the sky to watch the clouds and birds when I got bored.
I liked being outside, though. I felt… free whenever I was outside, where there were no walls, not really, to suffocate me and I could… breathe. "It is a nice day," I agreed, chewing on the inside of my cheek and, in the background, loud noise caught my attention.
I turned my head slightly towards its direction.
The noise I'd heard was laughter, bubbly and fully of life, it made me want to laugh too, and it was coming from a small group of boys, who were running and tossing around a football. I recognized most of them, seen some in passing and spoken to quite a few, but only one turned to look in my direction and when he did, I saw a bright smile appear on his, reddening, sweaty face when he did a double take.
The look of surprise on his face was unmistakable as he pushed his glass back to keep them from sliding all the way down his nose (I had to give him credit for being able to keep them on while playing) and wiped the side of his face with the back of his hand. "Carrie!" He called out, still smiling and now waving.
Something in me swelled. He was genuinely happy to see me out and about. I was too.
Half smiling, I allowed myself to look away from Jones, for a second, to look at the other boys who had noticed the younger boy's sudden lack of interest and had stopped to stare. I realized that they hadn't expected me to be out either. And, instead of being embarrassed, I raised my head and hand to wave. "Hey, Jones. Boys!" I greeted with a small smile on my face.
The other boys waved back and soon started nudging and punching Jones lightly on his shoulder and gut, teasing him and finally they went back to their game.
I watched them play for a while, finding that it was more entertaining then watching clouds and birds.
Jones had grown since the first time I met him. Not by much, really, but he'd gotten a lot taller and lost some of the baby fat in his cheeks. He was still the same smart-ass kid from before, don't get me wrong, but he was tolerable and reminded me of someone I use to know….
God, it felt like such a long time ago that we'd met, that night in the living room with him changing the channels with a blink of his eyes and my grumbling stomach.
The night everything went to hell.
"It does feel like forever ago, doesn't it?"
I frowned, suddenly, turning my attention from the fun loving boys and back to the pool water. I rested my cheek against my knee and, after awhile, closed my eyes. Behind closed lids, I could almost see the events taking place as if it were a movie stuck on repeat.
Despite my trouble remembering things like names, or what have you, I remembered the night I lost my family to the same fire that took my home and gave me a phobia.
To this day, I still haven't figured out how it happened….
I remembered wandering in daze after, lost and alone for some time and being found by a woman and her husband, Gwen and Owen, who then took care of me. I also remember leaving them, the people who I had considered my new family after mine had gone and passed. I tried not to dwell much when it came to my family, it hurt too much to think of the only surviving members of my family - Dad. Callisto. - not being with me and hating each other. I did, however, wonder whether they knew of Irene, Michael and mom's death….
I pushed the thought away just as a headache started to form and my mind wandered back to Owen and Gwen. I honestly believed that I had left them for their own good. Who knew what they would have done if they'd found out I was a runaway mutant, hiding and being pursued by bad people. I didn't like thinking about that either but that didn't stop me from wondering how they were and if they missed me as much as I missed them.
Probably not, I decided with a heavy heart and I sigh, and that was okay. Sort of. No, not really. Of course it wasn't okay. It broke my heart to think that they didn't think about me at all, or cared that I had just up and left… I wondered if they even tried to look.
I wished that I had gotten the chance to say goodbye, thanked them for their hospitality, nursing me back to health and told them that I'd always be grateful. I would have done it too, instead of leaving as abruptly as I did, but I hadn't counted on Stryker finding me or that he'd recruit Ben and Dan to do his dirty work and capture me for him.
Sometimes I wondered about them too - Ben and Dan -, wondered what they were doing, if they got caught or turned themselves in out of guilt. Or had they gotten away with it, just like Ben had predicted? Had no one noticed that I had suddenly vanished without a trace?
Probably, I decided, nodding inwardly, because there was no way Dan would have turned himself in. Of course not. He'd felt guilty, yes, but he had also been given a scholarship to some school. It was hard to forget that piece of information. The fearing of losing it was almost as strong as the one going to jail, maybe even more. No, he wouldn't have thrown that away for me. Ben wouldn't have let him, not in a million years.
Ben, I thought darkly, feeling an unusual amount of anger in me. I could feel my body stiffening at the mere thought of him - speaking, touching, breathing. I shuddered, hugging my knees closer to my body.
What he had done - what he had almost done. God I didn't even like thinking about it. I would never be able to forgive him, at least, not in this life, or the next. Before him I had never met anyone so selfish, so uncaring, so inhuman, so like… dad, who (even though had turned his back on us, his family and treated me and Callisto like shit, I still missed him. Because he was my dad, my blood.) had turned me in so easily because I had been a - a - a freak to him
He'd hurt me so badly, emotionally above all else, because the scars on a person's soul never really faded as appose to the ones on the flesh.
I backtracked and rolled my eyes. Since when had I become so philosophical?
"Since you had to grow up faster than you were suppose to," V replied, even though I hadn't really meant for It to answer my question.
But, even though I wanted to hate them - Ben and my Dad - a part of me, the sick, twisted part of me - thanked them. Because without them, I would have never found my way to Mr. Logan -
No, it was just Logan, now, I reminded myself. No mister. Just Logan.
Meeting Logan, my knight in not so shinning armor, full of flaws and kinks, was both good and bad, though the good weighed out the bad by, well, a lot. He had found and saved me, took care of me in his own way and took me to a school where there were others like me, mutants, protected from the outside world.
And though I had arrived scared and hurt, covered in bruises, cuts and dry blood on my torn clothes, walking through those doors, I felt at home. Yes, the stares and whispers bothered me but nothing could shake the feeling of being home. And I had Logan to thank for that, the man with the strange hair.
The lost man, I liked to call him in my head.
He'd done good in bringing me, but as much as it was good it was also bad.
Shortly after arriving, the school had been attacked by men working for Stryker, the man who had made a few years of my life like hell, and a few kids had been taken from their beds, drugged into a deep sleep.
Sometimes, I could still hear them screaming, still feel their fear and confusion.
I had seen many people, the men working for Stryker, being killed and barely managed to escape captivity with the help of Logan and a few others. In the end, after surviving them, the police, being shot out of the sky, rescued by two unlikely heroes and being assaulted by an unseen force that nearly broke me, the kids were rescued… but at a cost.
Although, losing one life seemed more appealing to others than losing a dozen, most of which had been children who had barely started living, it really wasn't. I understand why she did it though - she had just wanted to give us a chance to live.
Sure, I had made new friends…
Bobby. Marie. Kitty. Piotr and countless others.
… but I had also lost quite a few as well…
Dr. Grey. John. Mr. Wagner….
Of course, losing Dr. Grey was just about the hardest thing. She was the only one out of the three to be taken, lost to death. She had given her life to save the rest of ours and was dragged underneath the raging waters. And, even though she had died a long time ago, she lingered. The grief of losing her was still as strong as the day she died in some of us. It had hurt - losing her. She had been the first person to look into my head and really see me without judgment. The first person who had promised to help me with my problems… but then died.
"Time heals all wounds," V commented, carefully.
Eyes still closed, I nearly cracked a smile and teasingly muttered, "Fortune cookie," to the voice in my head and, when I inhaled through my nose, I found it stuffy. I sniffed again, and finally realized that I had been crying.
I wiped my face, eyes still closed, with the back of my hand.
I barely cried anymore - the months after Dr. Grey's death had been the hardest, could barely walk anywhere without bursting into tears because of someone else's sadness. I could barely be around those who were closes to her - Ms. Munroe. The Professor (though he'd been able to block some of his emotions from me, some leaked out). A few students. And Mr. Summers. He was the worse, his mind often wandered back to the day of her death.
I hated thinking about that day. Not only had we lost Dr. Grey, we'd also lost John, Pyro. He hadn't been lost to death, though. No, he'd given in to the darker side. I still thought about him too, sometimes, wondered where he was and what he was about to. Though, it was never much of a mystery because it seemed that Logan and the X-Men had crossed paths with the Pyromaniac on more than one occasion and he had, indeed, turned in back on us. On me.
That broke my heart too.
"Things happen for a reason, you know?"
I didn't reply. Though I wanted to say that not everything happened for a reason. That was just something some poor soul made up to make themselves feel better --
Feeling a sudden rush of anger and sadness in me, I groaned, breaking away from my thoughts. It wasn't mine, that much I could tell, but it sure as hell was familiar.
With my eyes opened, I narrowed them and brought my hands up to my head as though it would help to block out the invading emotions. It didn't.
I scrambled to my feet, mindful of my movements, and began to look around, frantically. There was no one around. Weird, I thought.
"Just breathe, Gyps." V encouraged and I fought to tell It to shut the hell up, I didn't need words of encouragement. I didn't need anyone! "It's okay. It'll pass - it always does."
I cursed. "I. Just. Wanted. Some quiet," I cried and I could feel myself twisting as I willed the feelings away, but they wouldn't.
I just wanted some quiet.
It's all I wanted - quiet.
My eyes landed on the glittering water of the pool and I stopped my frantic search. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I should…. The throbbing of my head clouded my judgment and, without even realizing it, my feet had already left the concrete.
"Carrie, no!" Someone shouted from somewhere behind me, but it was to late. I had already fallen in with a splash.
It had been desperate, I thought, but there was something about water that just seemed to numb everything, slowed things down in a way that made me feel free. If I could grow gills, I would.
Ignoring the freezing water and the sting of chlorine, I managed to open my eyes just in time to see bubbles escaping my lips and allowed myself to sink all the way to the bottom of the pool. I looked around, my eyes fluttering, fighting to stay open. The water seemed to have washed away all the invading emotions, I almost sighed in relief.
And, even thought I had only been underwater water for a few seconds, my lungs were already burning, begging me to breathe, but I wasn't ready to resurface. Couldn't give up the quiet.
Looking up, I could see the blurry images of someone standing over the water and could hear the muffled sound of a voices. Or was it more?
I shook my head slightly, my hair flowing and bubbles rising to the top.
I should go up.
But I wouldn't.
Not now. No.
The quiet was just too nice to give up.