Homecoming
Immortal Cannon Fodder masterlist
Taglist: @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @extrabitterbrain @wolfeyedwitch @whumpinggrounds
At the age of eleven, Gemma was forced to attend a boarding school for powered children due to the potentially dangerous nature of her powers. Now she's eighteen and finished school, she's coming home.
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CWs: referenced minor whump, past abuse, difficulty coping, fear of abandonment, mentioned abandonment, touch-starved, mentioned public punishment, past isolation, fear of punishment, very brief flashback
Gemma steps down from the coach, blinking rapidly as her eyes attempt to adjust to the harsh sunlight. It's July, the end of the school term, and she's finally leaving Meadows Ridge for good.
There's few people around at the drop-off point at the edge of the city. A gaggle of nosy onlookers, curious to see what the notorious 'school for heroes' has produced this year, and a few family groups. Not enough for everyone being dropped off though. A lot of families... don't want their powered child back.
And there'll be provision for those who have nowhere to go, for appearances sake, but she's sure it won't be nice.
She hopes her parents are here. Please, please let them be coming. They said they would, she wrote them a letter and they promised, but they could be lying, it doesn't matter how well they treat anyone else because she has powers and so they can treat her how they like and no-one will care. They never care.
Gemma clutches her parents' response tight in one hand and Sophie the stegosaurus in the other. They said they'd come. She has to believe that.
It's been seven years. Will she even recognise them? Will they recognise her? Will they just... not know it's her and go home and abandon her to even more of Meadows Ridge's care?
She swallows a sob. No. No, they can't do that, please, she can't spend another day there. They have a photo, right? Right?
But nobody calls her name. The coach drives off, leaving one of the teachers behind to collect stragglers, and still nobody calls.
She's distracted by an old, brown car sputtering up the hill. It's polished to a shine but it's not moving very well. She wonders if they'll have to get out and push.
They don't, the car eventually jerking to a stop in the car park, but it's close.
Both front doors open at once and a man and a woman exit, arguing. Their conversation drifts up to Gemma as they head for the payment machine.
"This is why we divorced! If that rusty, banged-up old box made us miss our daughter's homecoming I'll kill you!"
"You say everything was why we divorced, Jemima. Just let me finish paying for parking so we don't get a ticket."
"Screw ticketing, it's been seven years, I need to see my daughter."
Gemma covers her mouth with her hand. Jemima. That's her mum's name, she knows it is. And the car...
They went to ballet practice in it, once, and it broke down halfway. How is it still functional?
"Mum?" she croaks. "Dad?"
She thought she was quiet, but the man turns and– is it? Is it him, is it, is it?
He swallows. So does she. She's rooted to the spot, she can't move, stuck like she's in class and someone's power is holding her there. She can only watch as he drops his wallet and starts to run.
He almost collides with her, stopping at the last minute and placing his hands on her shoulders instead. She flinches, and he starts to withdraw but–
"Don't. Don't let go, please."
She barely recognises her own voice, it's been a long time since she's tried making a request to anyone her senior, but her dad listens. His hands are big and warm and she moves closer, letting him envelope her.
It's hard to keep herself from tensing, flinching, she can't see what he's doing but– it's her dad. And she sinks into his arms, trying to hold back tears.
It's been a year since Aisling left Meadows Ridge, longer since Ethan. And although she's happy for them, she hasn't had a hug since. They're the only two people in that place who ever touched her with affection, with something not carefully calculated to hurt in the worst ways.
"My little gemstone. Oh, I'm so sorry we sent you there."
Gemma shakes her head and cries. She shouldn't be crying, she's an adult now, she should be in control, she doesn't want to get into trouble, but there's absolutely nothing she can do to stop it now.
She was going to be strong for her parents. She was going to pretend that nothing's wrong, nothing happened to her, she's fine. But all that's out the window now.
Another hand touches her shoulder-blade, above her rucksack, and she jumps three feet in the air before remembering who's there. Her heart pounds.
"Sorry. Sorry."
"It's okay, baby girl," her mum murmurs. "I didn't mean to startle you. Shall we go home?" Gemma nods. "Do you have any more luggage?"
She shakes her head. This small rucksack is everything. She wasn't going to bring her school uniforms, aside from the one she's been forced to wear today, and she's not a fan of the regulation pyjamas or free day clothes either (not that she ever got many free days). There's a box with letters and homemade presents from Aisling and Ethan, and messages from her parents, and a copy of the contract she signed this morning, but that's it. She's carrying Sophie.
What would be the point in bringing home things she hates? It's not like she needs a notebook filled with school rules, painstakingly copied out in an empty white room with an ache inside her and heavy metal on her wrists.
She clings to her parents as they make their way to the car. She's an adult now, but right now she doesn't feel it, and she doesn't want to be taken away from them again.
The car is familiar, with that lingering old-smoke smell that still hasn't faded and the seats that are so soft but she knows have zero suspension. She climbs in the back and kicks off her shoes and socks immediately, the hated things, the itchy and scratchy blazer going next.
She's never wearing socks again.
Then she curls up against her mum's side, stroking Sophie. The stegosaurus is old and worn and very, very well-loved after all the years, the side she's currently stroking almost worn through with the constant nervous movement.
"Some of the family were planning to come for tea later, to celebrate your return, but we can postpone it," says her mum gently. "If you're not up to it, they can wait."
"It's okay. They can come." She can't refuse anything. She knows the consequences, even if they're not likely anymore. But anyway. She can handle it. It's only her family. It's not like a public punishment or anything. Just a few hours of eating and talking and whatever else.
It will be fine.
_
It turns out that it is not, in fact, fine.
Every laugh sounds like they're laughing at her. Every time someone raises their voice she thinks they're shouting at her. Every time the dishes clink too loudly, when someone drops a fork, she thinks someone's made a mistake, they're going to be punished, publicly, or she'll be punished in their stead if she speaks out. She tenses every time someone says her name, not used to it being called neutrally. The food is too rich, it has flavour, it's no longer beige, and she feels sick.
Someone proposes a toast to her, and she doesn't know what to do. She doesn't know what's expected of her. All eyes are on her, and she tries not to cringe away, to flinch from the chorus of voices. At least she manages not to break into a flood of apologies and pleas.
She can't even fetch a plate for herself, too worried about doing it wrong and being punished to try. Someone else has to do it for her, and she murmurs a thanks but doesn't really notice who it is. She can't speak loud enough to be heard either, not after seven years of being punished for it. Not that she's sure she wants to be heard. She mimics the facial expressions of those around her, hoping to convince them that she's doing fine, she doesn't need any help, they can stop looking at her weirdly now. No need to be hostile. No need to hurt her.
The tension thrums through her as she tries to cope. She's got to cope. Why is it so hard?
And this is only a buffet, in front of people she knows (thinks) (hopes) mean her well. How can she ever get used to being around people again?
She can't. She can't. She knows people will be disappointed (of course they will be, they always are, for someone like her disappointing people is the best she can hope for because at least it's not anger), but she slips away, up to what used to be her bedroom, what her parents say is again. The bed's too soft but the dark blue walls with the dinosaurs are nice and calming and she nests instead, climbing into the centre of the pile of blankets her dad helped her make earlier (when it was so desperately obvious what she wanted but she couldn't move to do it herself, she couldn't, the rules in her head wouldn't let her). She curls around a mound of dinosaurs and sobs.
She should've shut the door, but she couldn't bring herself to, that level of privacy isn't allowed, and she can hear the sounds of people still celebrating downstairs. Doesn't seem to matter whether she's there or not then.
There's footsteps on the stairs and she freezes. Step-clunk. Step-clunk. That's the sound of the dorm manager coming to get someone, a cane always on him. She wonders who it'll be and hopes, guiltily, that it's not her.
Someone knocks on her door. She doesn't respond. She doesn't really remember how. She's not sure it actually matters. Nobody ever knocks on the door of someone like her.
The knock sounds again.
"I'll leave you alone if you like, gemstone, but not unless you tell me that," comes a gruff voice. "Those schools don't teach autonomy."
Gemma jolts. She's not there anymore, is she?
"Granda?"
"It's me. No company."
She scrambles to sit up, wiping the worst mess off her face. "Come in."
Her granda limps into the room and sits down on the edge of the bed with a groan. "After my son was forced to send you to that place, I had hoped they'd improved since my time. But your friends, and your face, suggest not." He eyes her critically. "You look terrible."
"Sorry."
"Don't apologise, my girl. There's nothing wrong with actually looking traumatised."
Gemma doesn't say anything. She can't object, but she knows it's not true. Instead, she changes the subject.
"My friends? You've met them?"
"Met them? Gemstone, Aisling stays with us when she's not off learning to be a doctor. We haven't heard from Ethan for a couple of years though, of his own choosing. Your dad's gone to pick Aisling up from school so I don't know how long they'll be."
Gemma swallows. Ethan... she hopes he's alright.
"And– and you? You said you..."
"Aye. First generation to do so. Powers must've skipped a generation. If your parents had asked my advice I'd have told them not to get the prenatal power tests done, but alas." He sighs heavily. "At least we have you back now."
Gemma isn't entirely sure what he's talking about, and he doesn't seem to have realised. "Can I ask you something? Please? I don't want to, to annoy you or anything, sorry, I–"
"Go ahead."
"How did you recover? How do you cope? I can't even have dinner with normal people. Maybe I should've just stayed there, because I don't know... how do you not fall apart?"
He smiles, a little bitterly she thinks. "I do fall apart. Life is hard. But if you want advice from an old codger like me, take it slow. One step at a time. One day at a time. Get whatever help you need and don't be ashamed of that. Don't drown yourself in regret, it won't help, believe me. Don't be scared to do what you need to do, don't give up if you slip back sometimes, and never be ashamed of who you are."
Gemma's not much of a person to be proud of, by herself or anyone else, but she thinks that maybe she can manage not to give up just yet.
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“Why do we marry? Because marriage fulfills a deep emotional need that both males and females have. When a marriage succeeds, it can be the highest source of joy and happiness for the couple. Unfortunately, the reverse is also true: a failed or struggling marriage is a nightmare. This accounts for a lot of the reasons couples seek divorce.”
“It's sad when a marriage doesn't work. No couple originally goes into it hoping to be miserable or to frustrate one another. In the usual scenario, men and women tie the knot because they love each other and want to spend the rest of their lives together.”
“If you plan on having a successful marriage, then the first thing you need is information. You need to understand and master the skills of living together as a team.”
“Lasting love is created, not found”
“There are two stages of romantic love. The first stage is attraction, which happens automatically. You just meet someone and get magically attracted to him or her. You’re full of romantic energy and easily do things for them. The problem with this stage is that it doesn’t take your spiritual, social, and intellectual differences into consideration and it tends to distract people from other aspects of their lives. For example, it’s not uncommon for someone in this stage to leave their job or education behind so they can get married to their love interest. The in-love feeling in this stage gives the same high that a drug would give. But eventually, you’d get off the high and your eyes would be opened to the realities that you've been neglecting all the while.”
The secret to creating love that lasts is understanding your partner’s primary love language and speaking it to them often. ~ Gary D. Chapman, Ph.D.
“Love is about meeting emotional needs and every human has been raised to attach the feeling of love to certain activities. Chapman calls this the love language. In his study, he realized that they are 5 primary love languages:
• Words of affirmation
• Acts of service
• Receiving gifts
• Quality time
• Physical touch”
“Once couples can understand their primary love languages and speak it to each other often, they'd keep each other's love tank full. Not sure what your love languages are? You and your partner should take the quiz on www.5lovelanguages.com”
Want to know what your partner is most likely to look like in the future? Just look at their same-sex parent. ~ Gary D. Chapman, Ph.D.
“Forgiveness is a decision, healing takes time, and the human mind hardly forgets hurt”
Forgiveness is not about forgetting as it is about withholding judgment. ~ Gary D. Chapman, Ph.D.
“Don't mistake forgiveness with forgetting because they don't always go hand in hand. To forgive is to let go of hurt; to no longer have the desire to punish the offender, but it doesn't necessarily mean you'd be healed the moment you forgive — although forgiveness does aid healing.”
“Don't mistake forgiveness with forgetting because they don't always go hand in hand. To forgive is to let go of hurt; to no longer have the desire to punish the offender, but it doesn't necessarily mean you'd be healed the moment you forgive — although forgiveness does aid healing.
In long-term romantic relationships, partners are bound to hurt one another so the quicker you learn the art of apology, the better for your relationship. When your partner is hurt by something you do, it creates a barrier in your relationship. But a sincere apology would take that barrier away.
People have different ways they want an apology, just as we have different love languages. For some, just a genuine “I'm sorry” is enough, but other people would want you to tell them why you're sorry and why you wouldn't repeat the same offense. Others won't even be satisfied with any of the two; they'd want you to do something to make up for your wrong.
No apology language is right or wrong, it's all just a function of how we were raised. Speak with your partner to find out what they think is the best way to apologize to them.”
“Financial problems are among the top 5 reasons why couples divorce globally so that's something you should take seriously.
Our lives mostly revolve around making, spending, and giving away money, so that explains why money holds a special place. This is why problems arise when couples don't have a predetermined pattern for spending their money.”
“First things first, there must be unity in the way you approach money as a couple. Marriage is a call to exclusivity and oneness and this must reflect itself in every area of the couple's life. You must stop seeing money as “my money” and “your money” and start seeing it as “our money.” It doesn't necessarily mean you must use joint accounts but it does mean mutual accountability. It means one person's debt is technically the family's debt and one person's salary technically belongs to the family, not just them. Having this foundation, couples should plan how they'd spend their money together. Determine a percentage of your family income that would go into a savings account, the percentage that you give out, and the percentage that's for spending.”
Managing finances as a team is part of the journey to oneness. ~ Gary D. Chapman, Ph.D.
Sex is more than intercourse. By its very nature, sex is a bonding experience. It is the union of male and female in the most intimate way. ~ Gary Chapman
For most women, sexual fulfillment doesn’t come from the act, but from affection shown before, during, and after sex. ~ Gary D. Chapman, Ph.D.
“Preparation is key in every area of life and marriage is no exception.”
“One more thing, take the love and apology languages seriously. Chapman has books on those topics, get them, and read them together with your partner. Discuss each of the languages with your partner and help each other find their love and apology languages then create mental scenarios in which you can speak their language. You should also make an effort to understand your in-laws' love language so you can easily fill up their love tanks. You won't regret making that investment in your future.”
“Communication is the lifeblood of any relationship. Find time daily or several times a week to just have intimate and friendly conversations with your partner”
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