The Second Curse: A TT Fanfic-CHAPTER 35

A/N: This is Chapter 35 of my OC Teen Titans Fanfic, The Second Curse. If you have not done so, please read the Prologue first, and then the chapters that precede this one. Note: there is no First Curse; this is not a sequel to anything. Hope you enjoy! : )

PS. I'm trying out something a little different here. I know, I know, it's the dreaded first-person POV, the plague of the fanfic universe! But I'm only doing it for this one chapter as a way to emphasize the difference in perspective. After this we'll go back to the normal/Sabbath's POV. ALSO, I would like to offer a genuine THANK YOU to anyone and everyone who has ever served in the military in any way to protect their country, and an apology to anyone who has lost a loved one to the battle field. I can't imagine your pain. Peace, and love, folks. That's what this world needs. Peace, Love, and Fanfiction 3

***Kara's POV***

There's no such thing as a hero. Only people; those who happen to be powerful enough to take whatever they want, and those who get taken from. My mother tried to tell me I could be whatever I dreamed, but she was wrong. And, in the end, she was just another person who lost. My brother was taken from her, from all of us. Five years ago he was killed in the Middle East. He was told he was one of the good guys, that he was doing the right thing, but no one saved him from the ruthless roadside bomb that tore his body into unrecognizable shreds. And no one saved my mother from the depression that ate away at her until she was nothing but a shell. Doctors say they can save her with their medicines and their shrinks, but nothing changes. They'll just keep taking money and giving nothing in return. That's the way of the world.

But I won't be taken from.

My father thinks the Titans are some kind of threat, that the financial strain of supporting them will crumble this city, or maybe their dangerous mutations will get the job done sooner. But he's wrong, they're dangerous in a way nobody else seems to realize. They're an illusion of heroism; a lie that people need to stop believing, a brightly colored show that's subdued people into a false sense of security. But in reality, there's no one that's going to save you from this world. You have to fight, to build yourself up. If you want a place for yourself in this world, you have to stand on your own two feet and make one. This fantasy of heroes has made people weak, made them ripe for the taking.

Maybe I can wake people up, to show them that they have everything to lose. If not, then I'll take from them whatever I please; their happiness, their idols, their money, their life. Because there are two kinds of people in this world: takers and losers.

And I'm not a loser.

Not anymore.

Today is my brother, Alex's birthday. He'd be 24 today. But he's not here anymore. Sometimes I wonder if there's even a point to this yearly remembrance. It definitely doesn't do anyone any good. Mother will retreat further into the fantasy world in which she now lives, despite the doctors' supposed efforts. But we'll visit her anyway, my Father and I. We'll sit in her small room at the institution that's been her home for the past few years. Sit in silence, mostly. Then the nurses will tell us it's time to leave, and we will. Father will drop me off at home to do homework, and make some excuse to go back to the office. 'I forgot something important,' he'll say. 'I'll be home before dinner.' But he won't. Father will drink all night in his office tonight, and probably won't come home until tomorrow. I'll eat dinner alone in my room, and spend the night staring at the ceiling. My homework's been done since Monday. But these nights are important. This annual stab of pain reminds me of how much I've lost, how much it hurts, and how vital it is to keep moving forward. My Father is one of the most powerful men in the city, and even he has had things he cares about ripped from him. So I have to be stronger than him. And I can feel myself getting there. Sure I'm at the top of my class, and none of my peers would dare oppose me, I'm the most popular girl in school. But grades and "friends" aren't enough. This school can only bring me so far. And these local colleges will only tell me what I can learn myself.

The HIVE Academy has to be my next step. Brother Blood promises to mentor me, but I don't need him to hold my hand. I just need to get into that school. Access to their technology and databases will give me an advantage no university can. Even the top Ivy League schools in the country can't give me the same education as the HIVE, because I have more than grades and recommendation letters and connections, I have power. I can break the laws of modern science with a snap of my fingers, and harness molecular energy in a way physicists can only dream of. But this power is raw and unrefined. At the HIVE I can sharpen and expand it exponentially. I can become the most powerful human being on the planet, and I'll never have anything taken from me again.

When I turned eleven, my brother gave me a chemistry set for my birthday. A toy, really, but at the time I thought it was amazing. I read the book that came with it over a dozen times, and had gotten to where I could perform all of the experiments from memory. My parents were impressed, and decided to sign me up for a science-themed sleep-away camp that summer. It was a bitter-sweet parting, because a couple weeks before camp started, my brother got a letter telling him he was being deployed to Afghanistan. I remember us all bringing him to the airport the day before I left for camp. He only carried a single duffle bag, and I remember thinking that couldn't possibly be everything he'd need. I'd packed more for two weeks of summer camp than he had for six months in a whole other country. He hugged our parents, and exchanged a firm handshake with our father before turning to me.

"Have fun at camp, nerd," he'd said with a smile. Then he hugged me goodbye, and we all watched him walk through those final gates. He waved at us one last time through the glass wall once we could no longer hear him before he caught up with a group of other men and women in uniforms identical to his and disappeared around the corner.

I was at camp ten days later when my father showed up to tell me my brother had died. My cabin was busy making color-changing lemonade for an upcoming party to celebrate the end of our two-week stay. It was an experiment I'd never done before, and I was beyond excited. The lemonade had cabbage extract in it that, when properly made, would turn from dark blue to bright pink when an acid was added, and still taste good. I was helping to get the ratio just right. I had a test tube of the blue juice in one hand, and a dropper of lemon water in the other when the camp leader showed up with my father.

"Father?" I'd asked, completely surprised to see him. I couldn't think of a good reason for him to be there. Camp wasn't over for four more days. I figured he'd simply forgotten and shown up early. I was embarrassed, and as a result, angry at him. "What are you doing here?!"

"Kara, come on, it's time to go home." His expression was unreadable, and his tone was flat, giving nothing away.

"What? No! You're early, stupid!" I'd tried to keep my voice low, but my frustration was making that difficult. I heard one or two of the other girls starting to giggle.

"Kara, we'll discuss this in private. Just get your things and we can go, your mother's waiting in the car."

I'd been too angry at the time to process what he was saying, to read between the lines. All I could hear was my bunkmates whispering and snickering behind my back. "No, go home! Camp's not over for four more days and I'm staying here! You can't make me go."

"Kara, please," he'd replied reaching out for my hand. My father never said "please". That had thrown me off kilter. I started to think something must be really wrong. "It's about your brother. Now it's time to go."

But I didn't move to take his hand. I didn't move at all. "What about Alex?" I'd asked cautiously, as if part of me already knew, but was too scared to acknowledge it. Everyone else in the room had gone silent.

The look in his eyes pleaded with me to stop asking questions. But I had to know for sure. I needed to hear him say it. And he did. "Something happened in Afghanistan," he began, voice shaking. "He and a convoy of other new recruits were targeted…He's gone."

My breath hitched in my chest as I tried to stifle a sob. I must've looked unsteady, maybe I was shaking, because just then a counselor quietly approached me. She reached to take the test tube and pipet from me and whispered, "Here, let me take that. You should go with him-"

"No!" her hand touched mine, and I screamed, flinching away from her and dropping everything in the process. The pipette, being plastic, didn't make a sound, but the shattering of that test tube on the cabin's old, wooden floor was the loudest noise I'd ever heard.

I crouched down and covered my ears, but even still I could hear my father kneeling down next to me and say something else he never said, "I'm sorry…"

*CRASH!*

"Watch it, Hellingsworth!" I jumped away from the lab bench, the crash mimicking the one in my memories in a way that scared me straight out of my reverie. I shouldn't have let my mind wander in the middle of class. Not on a lab day, especially not when I'm paired up with the clumsiest excuse for a superhero this world has ever seen.

"Well pardon me," the dark-haired girl replied, with no shortage of sarcasm. "Maybe if I wasn't doing this alone…" She reached for the stack of paper towels Ms. Miranda had thankfully prepared at every station for just this sort of accident. "Could you at least move the stupid wires out of the way so I can clean this up?"

"It's a beaker of salt water with electrical leads clipped into it and hooked up to an LED. It's not rocket science. I can't even believe we're doing this experiment, I did this in middle school…"

"Well good for you!" she said, mopping up the spill and carefully sweeping the remains of the dropped beaker into her hand. "Maybe we should switch, then. You can do all the work, and I'll just sit there looking stupid! And wait, what did you just call me?"

Luckily for the freak, the crackly old PA system cut in just then with an announcement.

-KYNE TO THE OFFICE, PLEASE-*ksshhh*-KARA KYNE, TO THE OFFICE-*kkssh*

"…What's that all about?" Jane asked.

"Alright class," Ms. Miranda began, cutting off any need for a response. "That's about all the time we have for today. Hopefully you've all finished this experiment by now. I want the accompanying lab report sheet filled out completely and turned in to me on Monday. No, Friday night's dance will not be an acceptable excuse for late work. You're honor students, act like it. And make sure you've completely cleaned up your stations before you leave this room!"

Ignoring the freak, I quickly started to gather my things. I knew my Father was waiting for me down at the office.

"You're not even going to help clean up, are you," Jane said, tossing her handful of broken glass into the nearby trash bin and picking up more paper towels. "And you're checking out after the first period of the day? Guess this means Jared will just have to do without your angelic presence today. I'm sure he'll be heartbroken…especially with the dance being tomorrow night." Her voice was dripping with an obnoxious amount of sass.

I couldn't think about any of that right now. I was about to spend the next 24 hours in Hell. Stuffing the lab sheet from today's experiment into my bag, I made my way out of the classroom ahead of the crowds. I didn't need to stop at my locker; Chemistry was the only class I cared to keep up in at this point. None of the others mattered, a monkey could ace them. That's why Father and I had worked things out this way. Instead of waiting for him in the car as he went into his office to put all of his meetings on hold and make sure there was nothing urgent pending his attention, I spent the 45 minutes attending first period. Brother Blood had told me he only cared about my grades in math and science, and I already had one of my "friends" doing my math homework for me. The course itself was easy enough, but the homework was excessively boring. Not that my chemistry assignments were any more exciting, today's lame experiment being a prime example. Anyone that paid attention in class could figure out what the answers on the lab report were supposed to be. The in-class experiments were completely unnecessary, although at least sometimes they were fun.

Today just seemed determined to be dreary, from start to finish. I spotted my Father waiting impatiently for me outside the main office's door.

"Come along, Kara," he said, emotionless as ever. Even on a day like today. "You're mother's waiting for us."

I nodded in response and followed him to the car. I didn't bother to tell him that my mother was not, in fact, waiting for us. She was sitting in her room at the hospital, as always, waiting for my brother. She knows today's his birthday, or maybe she doesn't and she's this upset every day. It's hard to tell when I barely see her. But the day doesn't matter to her. My father seems to care about this tradition more than anyone else.

We drive out of the city in grim silence and make our way to the hospital. When we arrive, she's sitting in a chair by the window, which of course is barred. Still, she stares out into the trees across the street. She doesn't acknowledge our arrival.

My father steps into the room and pulls up a chair near her side. "Hello, dear," he says. I've never heard him speak as softly to anyone as he does to her. It's almost as if he really does have a heart. He motions subtly to me, indicating I should join him at her side.

"Hi, mom," I say, trying to match his soft tone. I can manage the volume, but I can't muster his emotions. I'm not even sure she can hear us at all. She doesn't even turn to look at us, but my father carries on conversation regardless.

"Things are going well with the city," he says, as if they're sitting casually at home instead of in a sterile, white hospital room. "The mayor thinks we should have enough funding for a whole new school district next year."

My mother nods faintly. She then tilts her head to one side, though keeps her glazed eyes on the trees, and whispers, "Where's Alex? When will Alex be here?"

My father clears his throat and ignores her question. "Kara, why don't you tell your mother about your studies?"

"Um, school's great. I'm…at the top of my class. My chemistry teacher thinks she can get me enrolled in a college science course next semester. She says I'll be the only student at that school already taking college courses."

Mother nods again, slowly, before replying, "…Alex should be here soon.."

I try to ignore her and change the subject. "There's um, going to be a dance this week. Friday. I'm on the planning committee, and I think it's going to be really great. Luckily they got the gymnasium repaired over the summer, so now it's good as new…"

She doesn't say anything now. The silence in the room grows painful. The sky outside has darkened with clouds, and there are no birds audible in the woods across the street. A doctor passes by the room on occasion, but their footsteps are feather-light. Their fluttering white coats give the impression of ghosts wondering the halls. I can't take it anymore, so I speak again. "I…I met the dean of a new school. An exclusive, private academy. He thinks I'll be able to get in without a problem. All I have to do is finish this one project he assigned me and I'll get a full scholarship. It's called the H-"

"That's enough, Kara," my father whispers, cutting me off. He doesn't want mom to know about The HIVE, or my involvement. He thinks it will upset her. I don't know why it should, she should be proud to know her daughter has such potential. But even he doesn't know the full extent of things. He just thinks his donations will get his daughter into the most exclusive school in the country, better than Ivy League. Unfortunately he thinks The HIVE is on the other side of the country. Maybe he thinks my moving away is what will upset my mother. But I haven't told him that Brother Blood is making plans to expand a new branch of The HIVE right here on the west coast. Sometimes I wonder if I should tell my Father the whole truth, but, like Brother Blood says, 'All in good time.'

My father clears his throat and tries to start up conversation again, but I tune him out. He's run out of things to talk about by now, and listening to him try to make one-sided small talk is almost painful.

I steal a glance at the clock on the wall. We've been here almost three hours already, though it doesn't feel possible. I look back at my mother, and notice little things about her I hadn't before. There's more gray in her hair, now. I don't remember her ever having gray hair. And he face looks sickly thin, even from what I can see of her profile anyway. My mother was never like this before. When my brother was still alive, she was the strongest member of our family. My father was always working, so she was the one who ran our house. She enforced every rule, to the letter, and never allowed there to be any slack. Everything was done, and done right. When my brother got a bad grade, my mother would make him re-do the assignment for her until she deemed his work satisfactory. If he was five minutes late coming home from school or a friend's house, she acted as if it were five hours. One time, when she scolded me for wanting to wear pajamas to the supermarket, I angrily asked her why she was so mean. 'Because,' she said. 'If I don't take myself seriously, then no one else will.' I didn't really get what she meant at the time, but now I think I do. She always valued strength and intelligence above all else. Seeing her reduced to a pale mannequin in a hospital gown…it's like she's not the same person. Sometimes I wonder what she would think of the person she's become.

I remember something else she told me, shortly before she was institutionalized. She used to go through bouts of wild emotions. Once, when overcome with angry tears, she clutched my shoulders tighter than I would've thought possible and told me, 'Don't end up like your brother, Kara! If he'd have stayed in school and gone to college, he never would've died in that God-forsaken desert! You're smart, you're so smart! I know you can do what he couldn't! Use it! Don't end up like Alex!' Her words had been harsh, but words spoken by those in pain usually are.

I know she would've wanted me to go to The HIVE Academy. And I wish I could tell her about it now. But I keep it to myself. 'Maybe next time…'

Just then, a young nurse in pale pink scrubs taps on the open door. "Mr. Kyne? Visiting hours are ending soon."

"Thank you," he replies in his usual, curt tone. Then, turning his attention back to my mother he says more softly, "We have to go now. But we'll see you again soon, alright?"

'No, we won't.' I think bitterly. 'You're lying. We won't see her again for months. At least. But it makes you feel better to say it anyway. Because you're cowardly and weak.' Out loud, I say, "bye, mom. Love you…" I can't bring myself to make a promise I know I won't keep.

She doesn't reply as we stand to leave. Father quietly returns our chairs to their place against the far wall. He stops to talk to the nurse, who's still standing in the doorway. He'll ask how my mother's doing, the nurse will say she's doing the same as the last time he asked, and that the doctors will call him the minute there's a change. He'll thank them again and leave. It's always the same. I take one last look around my mother's room, and see everything exactly how it's been for years. The same white walls and sheets, the same slightly-rusted bars across the outside of the window, the same white folding chairs, the tv that's never been touched aside from being dusted, the black and white clock on the wall that silently passes the time. It's almost as if the entire room is frozen in place. I wouldn't be surprised to notice the clock had stopped. There was no calendar anywhere in the room, or anyway of noting how much time passed. It's not surprising my mother doesn't know what day it is. She probably doesn't even know what year it is.

I say one last good-bye over my shoulder before I follow my father out of the room. We walk to the elevators and out of the building in silence. When we get in the car he stops for a moment, key poised in the ignition. For a moment his eyes look lost in thought. Finally, in a voice so soft I almost wonder if I really heard it, he whispers, "Happy birthday, son." Then he starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot as if nothing was said.

I stare out the window in silence, watching the trees slowly give way to the highway that leads back into the city. We pass through a tollbooth that marks the official boundary of the city and pass over a large bridge, crossing a vast salt marsh that leads to the ocean. Clouds still hang low and dark in the sky, but the rain hasn't started yet, and on the western horizon, I can just make out the faint "T" of Titans Tower. I look away in disgust. That is the last thing I want to see today.

As expected, we get home only to have Father drop me off and head back to his office for the night. I fix a microwaveable dinner for myself and try to watch TV, but I can't focus. I know the sound is on, but the voices sound so far away. Hours pass that way, and when I can't stand it anymore I go upstairs to my room. I know I won't sleep tonight, but I lay down on my bed anyway and stare at the ceiling. Outside I can hear the first few claps of thunder, announcing the rain is on its way. The weatherman on TV had said a lot while gesturing to a map of the country, animated rain clouds popping up over our area. I think he said this rain would continue for the next few days, but I can't be sure. Large angry raindrops begin to pelt my window. Thunder booms, lightning flashes, and suddenly the lights go out.

With a sigh, I roll onto my side and notice the glass of water on my nightstand. It's been there for days now. An idea occurs to me, and I reach out a hand towards it. I don't know if this will work, but I can't see why it shouldn't. I touch one finger to the water's surface, and bright green electricity begins to crackle from my skin. The water bubbles slightly as the tiny lightning bolts spread throughout the glass. The water is alive with little sparks of green energy, and slowly, slowly, it appears to boil away. Although I know it's not boiling, not exactly. It's not just becoming gaseous water molecules, and it's definitely not hot to the touch. The liquid water atoms themselves are splitting into gaseous hydrogen and oxygen. The energy resulting from those splits is released in the form of the green glow. It's not the best nightlight, but it will do.

I roll over onto my back and return my attention to my ceiling, now tinted green in the glow of my experiment; I remember the last thing my brother ever said to me. 'Have fun at camp, nerd.' I smile, and think of the old chemistry set he gave me, stored carefully in the back of my closet. He was right, I guess I am a bit of a science nerd. If only he knew how fitting that title would become. Lightning flashes outside my window again, and I wait for the ensuing boom of thunder to pass before I finally say it, "Happy birthday, big brother."