Chapter Text
My name is Lucy.
My birthday is October 1st, 1989.
I’m weird. I can do some kind of healing.
By that, I mean, absorb the injuries from someone else. They’re not as bad on me but it’s still weird to experience someone else’s pain.
The first time I found out about it was when I was six. My friend Nina had tripped and fallen and scraped her hands and knees while we were playing. Her mom was sitting on the steps about ten feet away.
I ran to Nina and put my hands on her arm to help her up. She had her palms out and she was bleeding and crying.
And as her mama ran towards us, the cuts and scrapes shrank into nothingness and reappeared on my hands and knees.
Nina’s mom’s eyes widened. “How—?!”
I started crying because I thought I was in trouble—plus my hands and knees hurt. “I dunno—I just wanted her to stop hurting!”
And Nina’s mom wrapped her arms around me and gave me a fierce hug. Everything after that was a blur.
My mother was a deeply religious woman from what I saw. My powers went against everything she believed in. She pushed me away and started beating me every time I used my powers to help someone. Mother didn’t want anything to do with me after the incident with Nina so my dad brought me to live with him. He wasn’t my biological dad but he had adopted me when he and Mom were married.
It took me years to get over everything. My dad meant well, he really did. He never told me not to use my powers but he told me straight up that he wasn’t sure how to handle it.
But he also told me to keep healing.
Besides the minor healing, I can also kind of communicate through touch. I can’t manipulate decisions, but I can express my feelings through touch. What people do with that afterwards is their choice.
I met Diego when we were—hell, I don’t know, grade school? First, maybe second grade. He’d gotten out of his creepy old mansion across the street and was wandering around the park near my dad’s house.
“Daddy, there’s a boy in the park!”
“Oh really?”
It had been cold outside and the boy was in a school uniform with only a moderately thick jacket to protect him. Daddy brought him inside and I asked his name.
“N-n-n-Number t-t-t-two?”
I canted my head. “That’s a funny name—“
“Now that’s not nice,” my father said sternly. “From where he came from, he might think your name is silly!”
“I d-d-d-don’t know her n-n-n-name, sssso how can I think it’s ssssilly?” Number Two said imperiously. He then ducked his head.
As if expecting to be hit.
Daddy’s eyes widened. “You okay, son?”
Number Two nodded. “Yes sir.”
“Where are your parents?”
“M-m-m-my d-d-Dad is…” Number Two stuttered nervously.
“Whoa, easy son, don’t get yourself worked up,” Dad said with a smile.
I stared at him. “Are you okay?”
Number Two closed his eyes, took a deep breath and muttered something about “seeing the word”.
Then he opened them. “My Dad is out of the country and my mom is powered down for the day.”
Daddy startled. “Um, okay, let’s get you home. Where do you live?”
Number Two paled a little. “N-no, I can g-g-go m-m-myself.”
“Take me with you!” I demanded.
“Lucy, no—“
“That’s a p-pretty name!” Number Two said brightly.
“Okay everyone just chill for a second,” Dad said in his dad-is-talking-so-kids-are-not voice. Both of us kids quieted down and he looked at Number Two.
He was about to open his mouth to say something when someone approached. A woman that looked like she’d stepped out of one of those old comic books approached with a bright smile on her face. What was odd to me was that she was wearing a summery dress and heels but did not seem bothered by the cold and the snow.
“Has my boy been giving you trouble, sir?” She said with a chipper smile.
“No ma’am, we were just trying to get him home,” Dad said with a smile. He held out his hand for a friendly shake. “I’m Diego.”
“Mother,” the woman said with a smile, accepting Dad’s hand. “Diego is a lovely name…”
“This is my daughter, Lucy.” Daddy put a gentle hand on my shoulder to introduce me.
I nearly exploded with excitement. “Can Number Two come to my house to play??”
Both adults looked at me. Dad shrugged. “If it’s okay with Mother…”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, but he has lessons to finish,” Mother said, sounding regretful. “Perhaps another time?”
I frowned. “...okay.” Turning to Number Two, I waved. “See you around?”
Number Two sagged as Mother grabbed his hand gently and ushered him away. “...yeah, maybe.”
And that was my first experience with The Umbrella Academy.