AN: I decided that with some input from friends and a very helpful review that this story will continue to live. I hope it will gather a larger audience, as well as my other X-Men story Take Away My Skin. I hope you Enjoy.
Disclaimer: I only own Andrew and Liz; all other characters belong to Marvel.
Not Every Story Has a Happy Ending
Chapter 1 The Beginning
October 15, 1976 - North Bay, Ontario, Canada.
It was a cold autumn day in the small town of North Bay, Ontario. They wind blew through the streets causing the already chilly air to become even more chilly. The small almost non-existent town was mainly consisted of a military base, and some military housing just a couple hour drive north of Toronto. They had one main street where most of the shops, fast food places, and well anything were located. Many small roads branched off of it. It was a fairly quiet place to live. This is where Andrew Darkholme lived with his parents Janet and Lars Darkholme.
Andrew's father was a German man who had come to Canada as a young boy with his family, to seek refuge after WWII. Once he was old enough, he enlisted in the Canadian armed forces. His father had been in the military, and he had pictured nothing else for himself. His mother was an American who had been visiting relatives in Canada when she had met his father. They soon fell in love. It wasn't long before she moved up to Canada to live start a new life with his father. Not even a year later the two were married and Andrew was born.
It had been quite the normal boring day for fifteen year old Andrew, typical school, friends, people in general. He sighed walking down the cracked side walk on his way home from school. The one thing the teen hated about life in North Bay was that nothing exciting ever happened. Well, people moving in or moving out was somewhat interesting, but that happened so often no one really even noticed any more. Other than that, they had the odd death, but never anything truly exciting. Yes, life in the small military town was indeed boring as hell.
Andrew himself was nothing special, or so he thought. He was fairly scrawny, about six foot four with dark raven coloured hair that always hung loosely in front of his eyes. The most unusual feature about the boy was the defining white bangs that he had been blessed with since he was old enough to walk. If you could get past the hair to see those eyes, they were the brightest shade of emerald green. He didn't really have many friends at school. He was a bit of a loner, and social outcast. Not that he was complaining Andrew enjoyed the solitude. The teen sighed and zipped his coat up a little more. He kicked at loose rocks as he shuffled his way towards his home. It was only going to get colder.
"Hey, Darkholme!" A voice called from some feet behind him.
Andrew turned to face the direction in which the voice had originated. His eyes fell upon two of his classmates, Karla Jenkins and her hockey superstar boyfriend, Wilbur Wilson. He sighed, just what he needed more pointless conversation. "Yeah? He asked lolling his head to the side and stopping his stride. 'Might as well hear them out, it just might be interesting' he thought to himself.
AI have a question for you?" Wilbur said as the older boy caught up to him, Karla close on his heels.
"And that would be?" He questioned crossing his arms over his chest.
Wilbur smirked and ran a hand through his windblown hair. "Well, I was wondering if you'd be willing to do my English homework for me. I would pay you of course, it's just that I need at least a B to be able to play in Saturdays' game," Wilbur stated trailing off slightly.
"And why would I want to do that?" Andrew retorted shivering as a cold gust of wind washed over the three teens.
"Because if you do, I'll go out with you for a week, and promise that we'll no longer make fun of you," Karla spoke up a mischievously seductive smirk crawling across her features.
Andrew scoffed, he had never found Karla attractive. He actually found her quite nauseating. She was nothing but a giggly vapid slut, like most of the popular girls a his school, "Not interested Karla."
"Oh come on Darkholme. You're the best student in that class, who else would I ask to do my homework for me?" He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Andrew snorted uncrossing him arms, and slipping his hands inside the pockets of his coat, "Thanks but no thanks Wilbur, I don't help low lives like you cheat your way through life," He replied turning around and walking forward, heading home once again.
"Hey," Wilbur called grabbing Andrew's arm and pulling him back. "Do you think that you're better than me Darkholme?" He asked anger evident in the hockey player's voice.
Andrew shrugged his hand off of his arm, "That's exactly what I am saying Wilson. There is nothing for me to gain from this, and besides, why would I help you? You've treated me like scum for the last four years. Thanks, but no thanks." He said turning to leave once more.
"You're so selfish Andrew," Karla spat throwing her long brown hair over her shoulder.
He turned around and glared at the brunette. "I'm selfish? I'm not the one cheating to be on the hockey team, or whoring myself to the highest bidder for popularity. Have some respect for yourselves, and maybe someone will respect you for who you really are," He retorted his eyes narrowing at the two. He didn't blow up on people often. Actually, he rarely did 'cause he was a loner and hung out with no one. He inherited his short temper from his father.
Karla made an almost inaudible sound and looked down at her feet in shame. What he had said, had definitely hit a nerve with the girl. Wilbur's face was beat red from the anger that was now boiling within his veins. "You can say anything you like about me, but do not speak about my Karla like that jackass," He growled taking a step forward trying to intimidate the younger boy by hid brute strength.
Andrew shrugged, "You don't scare me Wilson."
Wilbur grabbed him by his coat and lifted him a couple inches off of the ground. "I would reconsider what you've just declined. If you don't, I may be forced to beat your head in for what you just said about my girl." The jock hissed.
Andrew chuckled, "Bring it on then, because I am not changing my mind."
It happened in an instant. Wilbur drew his fist back, and Andrew found himself on the ground. He barely had time to stand before Wilbur caught him around his middle and took him back down to the ground. Wilbur landed another punch to Andrew's face, breaking the younger boy's nose, causing a large amount of blood to flow out of his nostrils. Andrew's hand shot up to cover his nose in a feeble attempt to stop the bleeding. Wilbur wasn't going to let up. He stood and kicked his classmate in the ribs. Andrew cried out in pain, and rolled onto his other side holding his now injured ribs.
"You're pathetic Darkholme," Wilbur yelled delivering another swift kick, this time to the young man's back.
Andrew hissed in pain, recoiling from the other boy. He attempted to stand, but was knocked back to the ground by another punch from his adversary. He managed get up, and tried to to regain his balance quickly, and just sway on his feet from the force of the punch. Andrew removed his hand from his nose, and reeled his own fist back. He barely dodged another one of Wilbur's punches before slamming his own into the older boy's jaw. There was a metal clang and a swift crack. Wilbur cried out in pain as he held his jaw. Andrew looked down at his hands in disbelief. That was not a normal sound.
Ignoring the strange occurrence, Wilbur roared with rage and charged at him once more. He jaw was off kilter, and the jock was obviously in a lot of pain, but that did not stop his onslaught. Andrew threw his hands out and managed to grab a hold of Wilbur's head. He punched it again and watched as the older boy fell to the ground, holding his head in pain. Andrew was astonished. He stared down at his hands, unsure what to make of all this, it was the weirdest thing that had ever happened to the fifteen year old boy. He had no idea how much time had passed by, but he was sure that it was not long. Wilbur tackled him once more, and he felt his skull crack against the pavement. He hissed in pain as Wilbur began to wail on him. Punches rained down on Andrew's form, which was now curled up on the ground.
"You like that?" He screamed, his voice slurred because of his seemingly broken jaw. Wilbur stood up and kicked the downed boy in the back over and over again.
"Stop," Andrew breathed in an almost inaudible voice.
"What was that loser?" Wilbur questioned relenting on his kicking in order to hear what Andrew had to say for himself.
"Stop," He repeated a bit louder this time.
Wilbur laughed and continued his assault enjoying the feeling of power that rushed through his veins. "Not on your life Darkholme, you asked for it.
Andrew shut his eyes tightly trying to block out the pain. He bit his bottom lip to hold back the cries of pain. He was not going to give Wilbur the pleasure of knowing how much damage he was doing. Suddenly, Andrew felt this immense build up of pressure behind his eyes. It was the most blinding pain that he had ever felt in his life. He could feel his body start to shake by the force of the pain. It was ten times worse than one of his migraines that had been plaguing him the last few weeks. He couldn't hold back any more. He opened his mouth and screamed as white flashed across his vision. He heard another scream, one that was not his own. It seemed so far away, that he barely registered it as being Karla's. Soon his vision settled, and the blinding pain in his head seemed to dissipate. His eyes fell on the site before him. Karla knelt next to Wilbur who lay unconscious about ten feet away from him. The older boy appeared to be unconscious. Andrew shook his head in disbelief, he had no idea what had happened.
Karla's gaze fell on Andrew, fear evident on her pale face. "What are you?"She asked quietly. She slowly rose to her feet and pointed her finger accusingly at him, "What did you do to him?" She screamed.
Andrew shook his head, "I don't know, what happened?"
She scoffed, "You know, you just did it!" She screamed. Andrew shook his head as she said this. She chuckled, "Fine. I'll play your game Andrew. Wilbur was kicking you, and all of a sudden you screamed and you were on your feet. Your eyes were completely white, iris' and all and then the wind picked up, the earth shook and you put your filthy hands on my Wilbur shoving him backwards. He flew ten feet into the air and bashed his head on the side walk," She concluded.
Andrew shook his head, "No, I couldn't have, that - that's impossible."
"But you did it, "She accused walking towards him. "You're a freak."
Andrew shook his head, "It's not possible, I-I-I couldn't..." He continued backing away from her.
"Freak!," She screamed her dark eyes narrowing at him.
Andrew turned and ran down the side walk towards his house. He didn't dare slow down, or turn to see if Karla followed. He doubted it. He was scared. Other than Karla's recap, he had no idea how or why that strange occurrence had happened. It only took him a couple of minutes to reach his house. He quickly shoved his keys in the lock and slammed the door behind him. He leaned back against it sliding to the floor. He pulled his knees to his chest and rocked back and forth on the wooden floor. His breathing was deep as he raised his shaking hands into his view.
"What am I?"
Janet Darkholme hummed quietly to herself as she prepared dinner for her husband's return home. The house was eerily quiet. She had not seen her son since he had left for school earlier that morning. She knew for a fact that the fifteen year old was indeed home, since his shoes were present by the front door, and his coat was haphazardly sitting on the small bench by the front door. She sighed looking at the clock once more. It was almost five pm. Her husband Lars would be home soon, and then she would have no choice but to ultimately retrieve her son from the confines of his bedroom. She let out another worried sigh as she placed a pot of boiling water on the stove. Suddenly, she heard a loud crash followed by an extremely loud bang coming from upstairs. She threw down the tea towel she held in her delicate hands, and sprinted to the stairs. The sounds caused alarm bells to ring inside her head. Something was not right. She ran up the steps and stopped once she reached the upstairs hall.
Her son's bedroom door was shut, but she could see the light shining out from underneath. She quietly walked to the door and gently rapped on the wooden surface with her small knuckles. "Andrew, are you alright?" She asked growing concerned. No one answered. This was extremely unusual behaviour for the fifteen year old. After a few moments of silence, Janet knocked again. "Andrew, answer me. You're starting to scare me," She replied growing even more concerned as the seconds of silence ticked by. He did not answer a second time. "Andrew Neil Darkhlome!" She called turning the doorknob. She was surprised to find it locked. Her thoughts became more frantic. "Open this door right now." She commanded, her voice nearly breaking.
"Go away!" His voice roared through the tightly shut door. Janet stopped her movements. Andrew never raised his voice to her. "Just, leave me alone Mom, I'm fine," He concluded softly knowing that he had frightened her.
Janet could hear the sadness, and the guilt in the teen's voice. What the emotions were for she was unsure, but she heard them as clear as day. Her heart ached as he seemed to be pushing her away. "Dinner will be ready soon. You should come down and eat," She stated her motherly instincts kicking in once again.
She heard him sigh heavily. "Call me when it's ready, and I might," He responded blandly.
"Alright," She replied sighing in defeat.
She wandered back down the curved steps and back down to the kitchen to resume her cooking duties. Not even five minutes into her dinner preparations, she heard a vehicle pull into the driveway. She sighed again as she dumped the chopped up carrots into the boiling pot. It was not long after that when she heard he front door open, and then slam shut seconds later. This sound was followed by the familiar sound of her husbands heavy footsteps in the entryway of their small home. She heard the loud thud of his boots falling onto the tiled floor, probably making a mess for her to clean up later. She smiled with fondness.
"Janet," He called as he entered their small kitchen, a smile on his face.
She smiled back, "Hello sweetheart," She replied walking over and giving him a small peck on the lips. "How was work?"
"Same as always," He grunted as he sat down at the table. He leaned back and looked into the living room from his seat. "Where is Andrew?" He asked noticing his son's absence.
Janet sighed stirring the contents of the stock pot on the stove. "He has locked himself inside his bedroom and refuses to come out. He said the he'd come out for dinner, but I don't believe him."
Lars ran his large hand through his dark locks, "What's the matter with that boy lately?"
She shrugged her petite shoulders, "I don't know. He usually helps me with dinner, or does his homework in the living room before you get home. He's rarely in his room. It worries me," She confessed letting go of the wooden spoon in her hand leaving it sitting in the boiling pot.
"It's probably just a phase. He's a teenage boy Janet, don't let it worry you."
She sighed again, "You're probably right."
The couple remained silent for a few minutes as Janet quietly resumed preparing the family meal. Another loud bang, followed by a crash and a thud rang out through the entire house. A pop soon followed. The sounds caused the couple to jump in surprise. Lars looked to Janet who just shrugged at his curious glance. He slowly rose to his feet, and slowly headed to the stairway. Janet trailed not to far behind him. Feeling a tad less frantic in the presence of her husband. Moments later, the couple stood outside their only son's bedroom, which was the origin of the strange sounds that had shook the house moments before. They looked at each other before Lars raised his hand, and knocked on the door. The ground below them started to shake, creating a mild earthquake, but the couple paid it no attention.
"Andrew, is everything al right in there?" He called through the wooden door.
"Leave me alone Dad," the teen responded. Another loud crash almost immediately follow his response. Andrew cursed loudly, the sound of glass shattering echoed throughout the hall.
Lars eyes narrowed, and he banged on the door again, a lot harder than he had previously. "Andrew, I don't know what is going on, but open this damn door," He roared tugging on the doorknob attempting to open it.
"Go away!" Andrew yelled, the door not budging.
"That is it!" Lars snapped as he braced himself against the door. "When I was growing up I never had a lock on my door," He said to Janet taking a couple steps backwards. "And now I know why," He concluded as he rammed his entire body into the broad surface of the door. It groaned at the force of his weight. Lars was not a scrawny man by any means, he was rather muscular, and very strong from his years of training. He repeated this action a few more times until the door finally gave in and flew open, slamming loudly into the wall behind it.
His dark eyes fell upon his son, who sat on his bed with the room around him in complete disarray. There were torn up bits of paper scattered everywhere, ashes littering the floor where some had been burnt. The mirror on the east wall was shattered, and the shards of glass littered the desk beneath it. The lamp that had once rested on top of his night stand was broken on the floor. The light bulb inside appeared to have burst. One of the wooden bedposts was severely charred and looked as if it would disintegrate at any second. Bits of the carpet had also been severely burnt. Records lay scattered across the floor, some of them had melted, others broken, and some remarkably were still intact. Lars looked at his son shocked at the disheveled appearance of the normally spotless bedroom.
"What happened in here?" He asked calmly.
Andrew looked away from him," Go away Dad," He said sullenly, refusing to meet his father's penetrating gaze.
"Andrew," He began in that semi angry parental warning tone.
"There is something seriously wrong with me," He stated finally looking up to meet his father's brown eyes.
Lars and Janet both gasped. Lars stumbled backwards a couple steps with the shock. Andrew's normally emerald eyes were white. There was absolutely no trace of colour anywhere. Andrew moved to reach out to his parents, but quickly pulled his hand back, unsure and quite scared of what would happen. Since the fight with Wilbur, nothing was making any sense.
"Andrew, what are you?" Janet asked, her voice was barely above a whisper.
He looked at them pleadingly, "Please?" He asked as the window behind him crashed open. A strong wind blew inside the room 'causing the bits of paper and ashes on the floor to fly around. "I can't control it," He ground out. His teeth were tightly clenched together, grinding painfully.
"Can't control what?" Lars asked curiously as he took a step closer in awe of the whole situation.
"No!" Andrew shouted. The wind grew stronger, and the light on the ceiling shattered. The force of the wind pushed Lars backwards so the he was pressed against the wall. "Stay back, stay away from me!"
Janet stood there shocked gazing at her son in confusion. She had never seen anything like this before. "What are you?" She asked again, way louder than she had originally.
"I don't know!" He yelled in response causing the door to bang loudly against the wall behind it. "So, just leave me alone!" He cried looking down, his eyes resting on the floor. Suddenly, he groaned and gripped his hair tightly in his hand pulling enough that it would be extremely painfully. "I can't take it! My head feels like it's splitting in half!"
"Andrew," Janet called softly, gripping the door frame tightly pulling herself into his bedroom. It was extremely difficult fighting against the intense winds.
"No!" He cried lifting his hand. She felt herself being pushed back further. "Don't come any closer!"
Her eyes fell upon his outstretched hand. It appeared as it little bolts of electricity were travelling between his fingers . Andrew's eyes followed his mother's and quickly pulled it back, stuffing the offending hand into the pocket of his sweater.
"Andrew please?" His mother begged attempting to pull herself back into his bedroom.
"No, I don't want to hurt you," He yelled closing his eyes tightly trying to somehow alleviate the building pressure inside of his pounding skull.
"Andrew, listen to your mother," His father spoke up, finally overcoming the initial shock of the situation, and was now focusing on the severity of the situation. "You don't have to do this alone son. We can help you. You can find a way to control it," He said recalling his experience in the military and the few young men had randomly developed powers just like his son.
"I don't know how!" He roared slamming his fist into the wall. It went straight through. He cringed as he pulled his hand out of the wall. He watched intensely as the tiny cuts on his knuckles very slowly began to heal. He growled again, punching the wall once more. Repeating the same pattern. He growled at the third time, "I don't understand why this is happening!"
"Calm down sweety, we're just trying to help you," Janet called desperately.
His white eyes narrowed at her, flashing back to their regular green, but only for a second. His father was almost to the bed, his movements going unnoticed by the teen's sudden outbursts. He glared at his parents as the wind grew even stronger in the small bedroom. "Get out," He hissed through clenched teeth feeling the pain in his head intensify.
"No," His father said firmly, planting his firmly onto the floor, preparing himself for the onslaught of wind.
"I said get out!" He screamed at the two. The wind assaulted his father, but he refused to budge.
Andrew growled again as he felt the pain in his head about to explode. He screamed and threw his hands out in an effort to remove his parents from his bedroom. Water flew forward from his body, pushing both his mother and his father out of the chaos of the small room. As soon as they were able, they ran to the door, only to have it slammed in their faced before they could reach it.
Lars gripped the knob, but it would not budge. "Andrew!" He yelled slamming his large fist into the door.
Suddenly, he howled in pain, clutching his hand tightly. His eyes turned to the doorknob. It was bright red, and extremely hot. He cursed and was about to kick the door down, when he heard his wife sob. He turned to face her. Tears ran down her pale cheeks, slipping down her delicate skin. He sighed dejectedly and wrapped his arms around her quivering form, pulling her to him. She melted into his warm and comforting embrace, pressing herself tightly to his much larger body. Lars gently stroked her long brown locks.
"Everything will be alright Janet," He said kissing the top of her head, "He will be fine, and we will get through this, you'll see. Everything will be fine."
AN: Ok, so this was a very short chapter. I get to the real story in the next chapter. I was going to end it after the fight with Wilbur, but I thought his parents deserved a scene, so I hope you liked this chapter. Also, his powers will be fully explained next chapter..kind of. A few things I saved to be explained in later chapter, so fear not! All will be revealed in due time. Please review, your input means a lot to me.