The Flower That Blooms In Adversity (X-Men/Fantastic Four/Kurt Wagner Fanfic)

Chapter 1 - Beginning

Yup, another one, but I have actual length for this one, and I am determined to finish this one so I can get back to my other ones. I've been working on this one and a few others for a while and not posting them for a while until I had enough chapters that I could properly update while working on the ones I kinda abandoned. Hope you like it!

3rd person pov/past time

- 11 years ago -

Darcy Grimm walked up to her house, excited to tell her mom about school. She had been accepted onto the varsity choir at her school, something she had been striving for since she was much younger. As she walked, however, something felt off. Just not quite right. She strode through the front door, closing it behind her.

"Mom, I'm home!" the seventeen year old called. When she turned from the door, she was met with stacks of boxes and an empty living room. As Darcy stared in confusion, her mother came down the stairs. "Mom?" she asked, causing her mother to wince, though the movement went unnoticed, "What's going on?"

"We're moving, sweetheart."

"What!" The mother cringed again at the hurt and shock that mixed together in her daughter's voice. "You can't just spring this on me at the last minute! What about dad?" Mrs. Grimm's face darkened for a moment, thinking of a way to keep Darcy from the fact that Ben had become a freak, almost as bad as those mutants. She put a look of fake calm on her face, and spoke.

"Your father is very busy now that he, your aunt, and your uncles are back from space. He's going to be away for a long time, but he'll join us when he's done." Darcy just stared at her. "Go get your bags, dear. We have to go soon."

With that, the older woman disappeared, taking the boxes with her, and Darcy walked up to her now bare room, and packing her bags. She took one last look around before grabbing her bags, one full of clothing, shoes, and necessities, and the other filled with her music, a few of them written by her. Then, she grabbed her instruments, and left with her mother, driving away from the only home she had ever known. She didn't tell her mother about the choir, thinking about how hard it must be for her to have Darcy's father away for such a long time, not wanting her to feel guilty.

Darcy had always been like that, selfless, kind, and caring. She put everyone else first, and they loved her for it, She listened to everyone's problems, helped them, cheered them up, made time to visit when they were sick. Even people she didn't like all that much were grateful for her. But, when she needed them most, no one was there. They didn't have time to stop their busy lives for a moment, just to really listen. They couldn't stop and help, or take time out of their day even to just sit with her for a moment. Everyone was too busy, moving too fast. Even her own family often took her for granted, not taking a moment to look and see what she needed for once. No one really appreciated what she did for them. Until she was gone.

- 1 Year Later -

Darcy was in her room, packing her bags. A year ago, they had moved practically off the grid, except for the landline. She had called her father every day, but he hadn't answered once. Her mother finally snapped, saying that he was probably busy, and her calling every day wasn't helping to bring him home faster. That was when Darcy had begun to look around her, a few months after the move. She had no way to watch the news, and her mother refused to let her read the newspaper they would get. She noticed more as time went on, piecing everything together.

There were no pictures in the house with her father in them, besides the ones she had on her phone, and her mother never talked about him. Rather strange for someone who's husband had been gone for so long. In Ben's absence, the older woman had also become extremely outspoken against mutants, which made the younger both sad, and uncomfortable. Darcy had a secret, one which she had kept for years, and that she now guarded even more closely.