Summary: Frankie McTaggert is sick of being fed lies about who she is. In a prejudice torn, messy world, she just wants to be like other people. Will the truth about who she is change the way she views her life? And why the heck did it have to be him that found her first?

Pietro Maximoff/Quicksilver X OC

T for future violence and intense themes

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Chapter 1: Living Freakshow

Frankie's head pounded as her headache grew steadily more irritating. She hated the prolonged exposure to other people, but the headache it caused was a daily issue. She'd grown used to it by now. She rubbed her temples, and, unknown to her and the other students, the lights in her classroom flickered. The voices raged in her mind, each having a different series of thoughts. She couldn't discern what any of them meant, because the noise was indistinguishable and chaotic.

"Miss McTaggert?"

The sound went unheard by her. Her thoughts were too tangled in those of her fellow students.

"McTaggert."

She still couldn't hear it.

"Francesca McTaggert!"

She finally heard the yell of her irritated teacher, and looked up to see the small angry woman standing in front of her desk. Her teacher's mouth formed a thin, wrinkled scowl.

"Yes?" she squeaked quietly, embarrassed at not having heard the teacher.

"Perhaps, if you paid more attention, you would be able to answer a question in class one day!" the woman snapped.

Frankie heard various whispered remarks and laughs from the other students in the classroom. Whether these remarks had been spoken, or were in the minds of the other student, she could no longer tell.

"Why don't you tell us what could be so interesting as to distract you from my lecture," the teacher insisted harshly.

"M'sorry, I have a headache," she muttered quietly.

"Miss McTaggert, you have used this excuse every day for the duration of the school year!" the teacher nagged, "You will either have to pay attention in class, or, one day, entertain us with the truth! Until you decide, you can wait in the principal's office!"

Frankie never argued with this inevitable punishment. She simply grabbed her things and trudged out of the room. When she reached the principal's office, she entered and explained her situation. She concentrated carefully, and her principal "conveniently" let her off with a warning and told her to leave school early. There were times when mental manipulation was just so helpful. She smiled half-heartedly and left the building, shoving her books in her locker on the way out.

Frankie had figured out that she was a telepath when she was nine years old. Rather than telling anyone, she elected to develop a chronic medical condition to explain her headaches. The only times when she didn't suffer from these headache-causing floods of thought were when she was only in a room with one or two others, or when she tuned out the world with headphones and loud music. The music was her favorite option.

For now, she had a new issue. She couldn't walk home for fear that her mom would be there. If her mom saw her at home early, she would know Frankie was in trouble. Instead, she'd play hookie until it was time to go home. After all, it was only three hours. She reached into her bag to get her headphones, but when she turned her head, something in the corner of her vision caught her attention. She had seen a flash of silver, before noticing a boy standing by the corner of the school. He was a tall, pale teenager with hair that was as silver as the jacket he wore with a t-shirt and faded jeans. That, however, was not the most interesting thing about him. No, the most interesting thing was that he was staring straight at her with curious, dark eyes. She looked around her to make sure that she was the intended recipient of the stare. When she looked back, the boy was gone. She felt an odd gust of wind blow past her, but didn't think anything of either occurrence.

She put her headphones on, blared her music, and just walked. It didn't matter to her where she walked, as long as she could kill time away from other people, or at least while she could block people out. She lost herself in thought as she wandered aimlessly through the city. She only wished that D.C. could be quieter and less busy at two o'clock, but there was no denying that it was always busy.

It wasn't until she broke out of her thoughts that she realized the sun was starting to go down. She panicked to herself, wondering just how long she had been walking. When she checked her watch, it was 5:47 already! She was very late.

"Crap!" she exclaimed, taking off in a run toward her house.

She, her mom, and her brother all lived in a row house in one of the nearby suburban areas. It was a tall, thin, brick building with a sad set of cement steps leading to the door. When she arrived, she quickly ascended the few steps and rushed inside.

"Where have you been?!" her mother, who was of course waiting inside, demanded to know.

"I went out for a walk and lost track of time," Frankie shrugged, before trudging halfway up the stairs.

She was stopped by further frantic interrogation from her mother.

"You could have told me if you were going to be out late!"

Frankie groaned inwardly at her mother's typical reaction. Her mom had always been overprotective of her, rarely ever letting her spend time around other teenagers outside of school. She was generally banned from any time of a social life, but she had adapted to being very isolated.

"I didn't expect to be. I told you, I lost track of time. I really don't think that I have to give you an itinerary of my day at this point!"

"Excuse me?" her mother protested, surprised by her daughter's calm refusal.

"I'm graduating this year, Mom," she pointed out, "When I leave for college, do you really expect me to call and tell you everything I ever do? I have to be responsible for myself at some point."

She continued up the stairs until she reached her room, her place of peace and solitude. This lasted for all of ten minutes until she heard her younger brother, David, call her downstairs for dinner. All three anticipated an unpleasant conversation.

"So, what's up?" Frankie asked, as the three sat around the table.

"Why don't you just tell mom stuff? Then we don't have to talk about it," David suggested.

Frankie could tell that he didn't feel strongly about the subject, but he was obligated to say something. She mentally applauded his weak effort.

"Well, when I'm in college-" she started again, before being cut off.

"You know, some students wait a year before going off to college. Maybe you should consider it." her mother tried to bring up casually.

"Um...no." Frankie replied, "Mom, we talked about this. I already applied to-"

"I know, I know!" her mother sighed, "But, honey, Oxford is hard to get into. We don't even know if you'll be accepted. You could still take some time off. You know, stay home for a while"

Frankie sighed and reached into her pocket. She pulled out a letter, unfolded it, and handed it to her now tense mother.

"I already got in."

"That's cool!" David beamed, high-fiving her.

"I'm afraid this just isn't going to work out this fall."

"So, you're not letting me go?" Frankie asked, any happiness falling from her face, knowing the answer.

"I'm saying we should wait-"

"You've said that before! I am going to college this fall. I'm sorry!"

"It's a bad idea!" her mother snapped, before regretting it.

"Why?" Frankie asked with an eerily calm, inquisitive look.

"Well...I...we..."

"Is this because you won't be able to monitor and control me anymore?" Frankie asked, after reading her mother's fear from her messy, panicked thoughts.

At this point, she elected to screw secrets. She wouldn't stay here any longer.

There was no response to her comment.

"What? Did you run out of lies and cover stories?" Frankie sassed, "I am going to college, and I'm getting out of the living freakshow that is my current life!"