Fandom: X-Men: Evolution
Timeline: Takes place during the 3-11: X23.
Feedback: This is my first fic. I'd love feedback, but be gentle, please!
Disclaimer: Not my characters - they belong to the people at Marvel.
Look, but Don’t Touch
They had made her watch. Embedded in her photographic memory, she had countless trips to the mall, endless afternoons in the park. Hours that they had forced her to spend watching normal kids play and shop and laugh. Watch, but not join. Whenever she might have had the urge to join those laughing, carefree normals, she was always abruptly reminded that she wasn’t free, that she wasn’t one of them, by a whisper in the radio in her ear, a touch on her shoulder from one of her guards, a meaningful look across the playground from one of her trainers. Look, but don’t touch. Understand them, know how to pass as one of them, but never forget – you are not one of them. You are ours.
She could never forget.
She had waited a long time for this, to break out, break free. To escape. To finally achieve the idea that had driven her, her goal at the end of the long dark tunnel: revenge on the man who had done this to her. She had meant to track him down, to hunt him and take him out. It had been the only goal she could possibly imagine, could possibly conceive of.
But now that she was free, now that she was out and away, she was suddenly uncertain. She wasn’t used to being lost; she was used to being sure. She was used to being filled up to the brim with rage and purpose. But now that she had tracked her quarry here to this house, this school, suddenly nothing was black and white any more.
She was watching again. Perched outside the window, on the outside looking in, like always. But this time – this time there was no voice in her ear, no eyes over her shoulder. There were walls between her and those normals in the house, yes, but this time, the walls were made only of brick and wood and concrete.
She had thought that she wanted vengeance more than anything else in the world. But standing here, fingering the paraphernalia of the normals - a teddy bear, a music box, a photo from a carefree day, even a bottle of abominable perfume – she was suddenly overwhelmed by how much she wanted these things. All her life she had been on the outside, looking in, and now, on the verge of vengeance, she suddenly wanted something else.
She didn’t want to watch any more.