AN: Okay, Normalverse: A series of inter-connected standalones where characters of the Marvel Universe are 'normal', no powers/mutations. They do not need to be read in order; the numbers are just a rough time line for events.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters and am making no money from this.
The sun beams cheerily in the window as I shuffle some papers on my desk. The girl in front of me shuffles her feet on the carpet. I stop shuffling, fold my hands in front of me and lean forward. The girl crosses her arms over her chest and leans back in her chair.
"Sarah, what are we going to do with you?" My voice does not come out all sugary and nice like some of my coworkers'. I have been told I sound almost like a queen addressing her unruly, but amusing, subjects. It has the desired effect on the girl; she has only heard me speak to introduce myself, and her eyes grow wide. There are some sparks of interest there. Good. It was not a rhetorical question; she has options, and something that maybe she's never had before, the freedom to choose.
"What do you mean?" she sits up a bit, her pink dyed hair falling across her face. The colour suits her, playing up her blue eyes. "Can't you just stick me in juvy or some foster home?"
I tilt my head slightly. "I could, but is that what you really want? I suspect you'd just be back on the streets as soon as I turn my back for a second." The interest turns to suspicion, her mouth forming a hard line.
"What're you going to do? Lock me in a cage?" She nearly spits the words at me, but there's a tinge of fear there.
"No. Never. I abhor small spaces, I would never condemn someone else to that."
"I like them." She mutters, and her attention slides away. She stares intently at the posters on my far wall.
"Okay, Sarah, let's talk about something else for a while." That gets her attention back.
"Like what?" I can almost see the wheels turning. She's still in interrogation mode, probably thinking I want information about her pimp.
"I don't know. Seen any good movies lately? How do you think the Yankee's are doing?" Nothing. She's still trying to find the trap. "Well, I'm not much of a sports enthusiast either, I just keep up with baseball in the memory of my father. What about the Olympics though? Are you watching them?" Ah, there's that spark again. "I have a friend competing."
"Really?" The question's out before she can help herself.
"Pietro Maximoff. He's in track. We went to school together. We even went out a few times." Her mask of impartiality has slid back into place, but I have her attention. "Yes, we went to an exclusive school for gifted children. It's an amazing place; you have to be exceptional to get in."
She's exceptional. Like some of the regulars picked up for soliciting she came in boastful, hardened and terrified, but after a few days she'd settled in. Gwen was her first caseworker, and she'd noticed something about her. She had her do the tests three times. The usual is one or maybe two, but most kids don't really give it their best. The better they do the higher grade they'll be placed in, the harder the class work. Sarah had done not bad, but with each subsequent test she gotten better, accepting her fate as a smart girl perhaps. On the last try she'd surpassed the entrance requirements for Xavier's. Now if I could only get her to go.
"If you're so smart, why're you working as a social worker for hookers and junkies? I'm not stupid; I know this job is crap. They might as well not pay you for what you make after expenses."
I'm used to dealing with the bluntness of these street children, but her question throws me off. I was expecting something more about Pietro, was he a good lay, or even the more innocent, 'why'd you break up?'
"I…I enjoy my work." At least she brought the conversation back around to school. "I know you're not dumb Sarah, in fact you're extremely bright. What I wanted to talk about was the fact that you could go to my old school, Xaviers, if you wanted."
"Bull. Nobody could like this job. Dealing with the likes of me all the time, it's probably enough to make you suicidal. I've been in offices like these before. The only people that work here are here because they have to be. What's keeping you here?" She's leaning forward now too.
"Nothing. I'm here because I choose to be. Period." My voice is tight, controlled.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I touch a sore spot?" She leans back, a smile on her face.
"I'm here to try to help you Sarah. The school I'm talking about is not easy, but will accept you and give you options. Away from the street, no pimp could reach you, no worries about a place to sleep, what you're going to eat. It could be home." I try to soften my tone, no sense scaring her away. There's a flicker of hope across her features; she's actually very pretty. Quickly it dissolves back into a sneer.
"Sunshine and flowers and wide open spaces too? A lollipop for every good grade? A place where no one will ever hurt me again? No one can make those kinds of promises. I think all you bitches that try to control my life are just jealous that I have some fun and you all don't. How's your sex life, o goddess of the street kids?"
"Not too bad. I'm dating a very nice lawyer at the moment. He does work for juvenile delinquents. Maybe he'll prosecute one of your wonderful paying boyfriends after you're killed and left dead in a ditch." I've never had a child make me so angry before. I can almost see lightning flashing in the space between us. "I'm not saying you'll never get hurt again, I'm saying you're better then this. Here's a chance to prove it." She doesn't seem at all intimidated by me, I'm used to commanding respect.
"Why are you here, goddess?" She's completely ignoring what I said. I made a mistake earlier; she knows she can get under my skin. Her words are like daggers, but I can tell they hurt her as well. "Most of you like to know you have power, that your lives are so much better then ours. That other bitch, wuzzhername, Gwen? She wants to help all the little children, save them from the awful, mean, streets. But that's not why you're here either. What's it to you?"
"None of your business." My voice is cold. "Do you want to have a chance at life? This could be one of your last. I can send you to some foster home and you can be back selling yourself in a matter of weeks, if that is what you want." Something inside me breaks. I should not have said that. I would tear my own heart out to stop this twisted, scared little girl from going back out there, but I cannot force her. And now it's been said. Perhaps I've scared her enough that she'll accept.
"I'll make you a deal, pretty goddess: tell me why you're here and I'll go to your precious school."
I've underestimated her. Either she really doesn't care if she goes back to working on the streets, or something showed through on my face. It cannot be the latter. I can be just as stubborn as she can when my mind is made up, and I will send her back, even if it costs me my heart.
"Come on. You're asking me to give up my life to go to a school I've never heard of at the drop of a hat, and you won't even tell me a little about yourself? How bad could it be? An old drug habit? A perverted uncle? What?"
I want to hit the smarmy little grin off her face. This one knows no fear, she'll push every boundary, and one day it will snap back at her and she will be destroyed. I grit my teeth. I will be stronger then her. "I was you once. Ten times worse."
She rolls her eyes in mock sympathy. "Oh, poor little goddess, selling her glories in the gutter."
"You asked. My parents were killed in an accident that left me orphaned in Egypt. Do you know what life on the street is like in Egypt? No? I hope you never find out, it would be too great a shock to your system, what with you being used to the lavishness of these American gutters. A man stopped by my corner one night and took me to his hotel room. Never touched me. He fed me and said I could sleep in his bed, while he took the couch. I grabbed his wallet and ran in the night. Still had to keep working, so he found me again easily enough. Bought me coffee. We got to be friends. He was an American tourist, and I came back with him, and went to his school. His name was Charles Xavier. As to why I'm here, after I graduated I went back to my mother's home in Africa, but it was… unfulfilling. So I worked for a degree and have settled here for now. I don't know if it's what I want to do forever, but it keeps me busy."
This may be the first time a grown up was utterly truthful to her. She's quiet for a moment, her face a mask, hard and slightly dangerous. "Okay. I guess I'm going then. What happens to me now?"
"You shall be declared a temporary ward of Dr. Xavier's and you go to school and enjoy your life. Any more questions?" I'm smiling now, and a look of shyness comes over her.
"Um, I have this cousin, he's like my little brother. Social services picked him up too. Could you tell me where he is? Like, if I do good at this place, could I see him again?" She flushes bright red, asking this is hard on her ego, but also proof that there is hope for her.
"What's his name?"
"Lee. Lee Christian Greenes."
"Oh! Right." I pick through some papers on the corner of the desk, and then remember he's not really my case, and stop looking. "Actually I do know where he is. I know the family who has temporary custody. I can't give you an address or phone number, but they went to Xavier's as well. Once you're settled in I'm sure they'd be happy to bring him by."
"Okay, good. Can I go now?"
"Of course." She stands up and walks to the door. I know better then to expect a handshake, but she stops and turns back to me.
"Thank you Ms. Munroe." She blushes even harder. When she came in, I would not have believed her capable of saying these words.
"Please, call me Ororo. I'll be coming by the school once a month to check on you. I have a few other girls there under similar circumstances." I give her a serene smile as she turns sharply and walks out to where a driver is ready to take her back to the group home.
After she's gone I straighten some more papers, but it's still just for effect. I sigh and slump in my chair, letting memories wash over me. Even I was not completely honest with her. I have no desire to do anything else with my life, but she did not need to hear that. She needed the hope that these years will not affect her whole life, that the human psyche is not as fragile as that. I hope that for her it's not. For me, life is a storm, forever raging, with people getting lost, drowning. Education, a real home, true love, these are the things that will shelter. That will keep out some of the driving rain. That will muffle the thunder and protect from the lightning. The storm held me in its thrall too long, it tore me down and I'm still unable to fully arise. I will spend all my days helping other girls out of the storm, so that one day they may be able to stand in the sun.