Homecoming Queen by Eve-the-Charlotte
Pairings: Mentioned Lance/Kitty and hints of others. Mostly just Kurt/Kitty friendship.
Rating: M for suicide.
Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men Evolution or the song "Homecoming Queen," which inspired this drabble. They are owned by Marvel and Hinder respectively.
Well, I haven't finished writing something in a while, some angst-y ideas popped into my head, and this was born. Also, this fanfiction is set within the continuity known as the "Witchblood" Universe, aka my version of XME. Enjoy the angst.
It was eerily quiet at the Xavier Institute. In the aftermath of the phenomenon called "M-Day," in which nearly all the mutants on planet Earth lost their mutations, all the folks living in the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning simply tried to move on the best they could, dealing with one set of crises after another, just waiting for some Apokolyps-style catastrophe to happen so all hell would finally break loose again. Many of the de-powered mutants left, either voluntarily or by being killed. A young ex-mutant woman by the name of Katherine Pryde had not yet left the Mansion, wishing to spend some time with her son who was still a mutant. Her continuing residence at the Institute was causing quite a stir among the remaining mutants at "Mutant High," a few claiming that since Miss Pryde was now a "flatscan," she should just leave before the school's higher powers booted her out kicking and screaming and without dignity. Even though it was a small minority who believed that, as most were either too busy putting out the crises springing up everywhere, too wrapped up in their own grief, or too sympathetic to force the woman to leave, still a clear majority avoided Miss Pryde. In fact, the only people to talk to the woman formerly known as "Shadowcat" were her son, Benjamin Elisha Pryde-Alvers, and her best friend, Kurt Wagner.
Maybe this was the reason why Kurt Wagner awoke one morning, again to a cold bed by himself, feeling something was not right apart from that. The demonically appearing mutant had a feeling of foreboding the night before, but he chalked it off to the extreme stress that came with life at the Institute these days. Yet the ominous cloud threatened to choke the usually jovial man as he stretched and peered out of his bedroom window. Funny, one of the oak's trees branches is hanging down at an odd angle, thought Kurt, as the mutant decided to seek out the cause of the odd happening. As the blue-furred man ported closer to the old oak tree, the one that Kitty enjoyed spending her afternoons under, he couldn't help but feel dread bubbling up in the pit of his stomach. One final port later and Kurt screamed, or tried to, since no sound was escaping his lips. That branch was Kitty, noose hanging around her neck, dangling the young woman from her favorite old oak tree. She had such a peaceful smile on her face, as though she was watching her son play with Kurt, who was like a father for the little boy. A strangled sound escaped Kurt's throat, somewhere between a sob and a scream, while salty tears dripped down from eerily gold eyes, down short-furred blue cheeks, to the cold hard ground, scorched from recent battles.
It was eerily quiet at the Xavier Institute. In the aftermath of the suicide of Katherine Pryde, as Dr. McCoy ruled it to be, all the folks in the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning gathered to witness the young woman's burial. Kurt, trained once as a priest, along with an old rabbi led the ceremony, even as Kurt choked and tears flowed down his face. God, the man wished he was here, to just hold Kurt and let the demonically appearing man grieve with his arms holding him close, though they were always friends, only friends. Scott couldn't return in time for the funeral, Jean was dead again, as was Rogue, Evan was God-knows-where, and Lance, the bastard, if he even knew his ex was dead, the man probably didn't even care. Benjamin was held in, shockingly, Pietro Maximoff's arms, the speedster's face grim, free hand squeezing Sam Guthrie's in what was probably an uncomfortable grip. Rahne Madrox née Sinclair wept silently into her husband's broad chest, with the man crying without a sound as well. Hank McCoy and Bobby Drake stood stoically nearby, though Bobby's eyes were wet with suppressed tears. The rest of the mourners looked sad and awkward, as so few even knew Kitty's name before her death, yet none were disrespectful, which Kurt was thankful for, otherwise he would have to interrupt the funeral to kill them.
When Jamie Madrox's turn to offer a few words came, the man squared his shoulders and stepped up to the podium with a sort of stoic grace that, in earlier years, the boy wouldn't have been capable of. As the dark-haired man adjusted the microphone to his height, Kurt noticed that now Bobby was openly sobbing into Hank's furry chest. Kurt didn't blame him; after all, he felt like doing the same thing. Kurt's attention snapped to the podium as Jamie cleared his throat and began, "I don't have a lot to say. I met Kitty when I was thirteen; she was my first crush, the first girl I ever really noticed, really. She was kind and sweet to me, unless I irritated her, which actually happened quite a lot. She took me to my first concert and on my first date. Looking back, the woman had the patience of a saint to put up with a brat like me. . . .
I lost touch with her a few years later, when I moved with my wife, Rahne, to Muir Island to help Dr. Moria McTaggert with her research on genetic mutation and to raise our son. I tried to remember to call, but after about a year or so, we just stopped calling and e-mailing and the like. It is one of my deepest regrets, that the last time I spoke to Kitty was five years ago. I think we talked about our kids, but I can't recall exactly. She e-mailed me a link with a song called 'Homecoming Queen' by a band called Hinder. Honestly, I didn't like the song that much, and I told her so, and she laughed and said it was okay; she figured it wasn't my style anyway," a deep shuddering breath before, "and she was right, but now that song is playing on a continuous loop in my head and, though my singing voice sucks, I'd like to repeat a few lines that I think apply to this . . . occasion. And it seems to me/ That she's a causality of all the pressure/ That we put on her/ And now we've lost her for good . . . / It's such a shame, shame, shame/ That our homecoming queen/ Was a lot like you and a lot like me/ And she never walked on water/ 'Cause no one really saw her/ She's just somebody's daughter/ Just looking for someone to love her. That's all I've to say. Rest in peace, Kitty."
"Onkel, my mother loved me, ja," mumbled a tall teenage boy with dark ash brown hair and wide, emotional lake blue eyes. He was wearing the nice button-down shirt his girlfriend Hollie bought him, along with a pair of nice jeans and black loafers. In his hand was a single orchid, which was his mother's favorite flower in life. His eyes were misted over as he looked up from his kneeling position at Kurt, his Onkel, the man who raised him since his mother's death, the man who had tears obscuring his vision as Kitty's son questioned her love for the youngster.
"Benjamin, your Mutter loved you so very much, more than anyone in this world. She was-she was just. . . a causality of all the pressure we put on her," the man replied, singing that song Kitty loved so much, the song that was sung at her funeral, the song fit her so well in life. She was the Homecoming Queen who cracked from so many expectations, to be the poster girl for mutants, to get married before starting a family, to be a mutant, to be perfect. And he had never seen her collapse before it was too late. Though, perhaps the girl in the song was luckier than Kitty; she didn't die, after all. Guilt pressed heavily on his heart as he saw the doubt that filled Benjamin's countenance refuse to dissipate. The German knelt beside the boy and hugged him, hoping to transfuse the child with some of Kitty's love. And in the distance, Kurt could hear a sweet, feminine voice sing, "It's such a shame, shame, shame . . . / I was just someone's daughter/ Looking for somebody to love me. . . ."
Fin