A/N: I recently finished reading Finders Keepers, and stumbled across the Gifted fandom. And, well, I couldn't resist.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Seriously, nothing.


Just from looking at them, you would never notice. How could anyone be expected to? They had nothing in common; no interests, no clubs, hardly any classes. No links, no ties. They didn't speak in the halls, barely glanced at one another across the street. There was nothing one could use to connect the dots, to solve the tantalizing mystery that surrounded these children.



Was popular. Had everything a girl desired; clothes, make-up, statues. Queen Bee, top of the food chain, Amanda. Cruel and beautiful.

People wondered how she could stand being so unloving and heartless. Didn't she ever get lonely? Didn't she ever crave love and friendship? How did she stand a life of aloofness and coldness?

She spit on the weak. She snarled at the meager. She sneered at those she considered beneath her, stomping on them with her designer brand heels. It was easy. Effortless.

Because being unfeeling was worth it. It was worth giving up love and friendship and happiness. It was worth it, because otherwise, she had nothing. Otherwise, she'd be at the mercy of pity and sorrow, letting other's weakness rule her life.

And that simply wouldn't do.


Was tough. Had a reputation for being the bad girl. She spent nearly every Saturday in detention, and was proud of it. No one told Jenna what to do, what to say, who to hang out with. She was a black as tar, tough, bad ass, Goth girl who didn't care what anyone thought of her.

Not that she could help knowing what others thought even if she wanted to. Their minds were spread out like silver platters in a dining room for her to gaze upon. She knew their secrets, their lies, their fears. Everything.

But she didn't bother with others. Who needed those weaklings, anyway? So what if she was dirt poor? So what if her mother was a drunk? Who cared?

No one. No one but those pitying people with the sad looks upon their powdered faces who stood off to the side, never saying or accomplishing anything.


Was lonely. Had no one but a diary to confide in. Her sisters completely ruled her life; they decided when she went on vacation, took a shower….was loved.

Her parents didn't notice her. They never had. It was always the girls that came first. Their needs had to be met; they were the priority.

People saw a nobody. A looser. A nothing in Tracey. That was why she'd faded so far, so fast. No one noticed…so what was the point? What was the point of being seen if there was no one to stare back at you?


Was a daydreamer. Had only guilt in her heart. Her mother thought of her as a freak, and her mother was right; she was a freak. Everything about her was unnatural. Her visions, her actions; everything.

She tried to make up for it. Emily tried to do the right thing; to go to Madame's class and get rid of her power. Then maybe things would be alright with her mother. Then maybe she would be accepted in her own home.

But that hadn't happened. Madame was just like the rest of them; she had no answers. No solutions. Nothing to ease the pain that threatened to tear apart Emily's heart.

She should have saved her father. She should have tried harder. After all, what good is a gift if you can't use it to save the ones you love?


Was afraid. Had a dead best friend that wouldn't stop hounding him. Jack wouldn't go away, and neither would the dozens—no, hundreds—of other ghosts that stalked him day and night. There were days that Ken couldn't sleep. Couldn't eat. Heard only the voices in his head.

He'd begged and pleaded, but they hadn't gone away. They'd come in mass numbers, all looking for a piece of the miracle, Ken. His parents were beginning to become suspicious. They looked at him funny now, across the dinner table, their eyes questioning and frightened. It was only a matter of time before they stumbled across the truth.

No one could help him. Not Madame, not Jack, and certainly not that stuck-up snob who thought she knew everything, Amanda. He was in this alone.


Was angry. Had overprotective and wimpy parents. They gave in to his every wish and every demand, and all because of his stupid wheelchair. It confined him and set him free.

He never had many friends. He was a small, semi paralyzed, little boy that no one paid attention to. He was angry all the time, and not even Charles was sure why.

Angry at the world. Angry at his parents. Angry at his classmates. No one understood. No one really understood what it was like to be stuck in a chair your entire life and to be looked down upon by everyone. No one would ever understand.

And so the anger kept coming, and the fights that followed.


Was in control. Had lost it before. She needed to constantly keep everything in check; to stay happy and secure within herself. To not let anything slip or make any mistakes. One mistake, one slip up, and she knew what would happen.

People saw her as the happy girl; the peaceful, smiling kid who was always ready to lend a helping hand. They thought of her as kind, but not much else. No one really knew anything about Sarah.

And that was how she preferred it. The less they knew, the better. It was better not to dig into certain things. It was better to let certain fights go, to let them fade away…

But one thing was for sure; no matter how bad it got, no matter what anyone said or did, she would not use her power. Not ever again.


Was a coward. Had a terrible temper. He was small and weak, and when people picked on him, he lost it. The tough guys always thought they could get away with picking on the shrimp. With beating him to a pulp and "teaching him who was boss".

But Martin knew better. Because sometimes being a big, bad bully wasn't all you needed to win a fight. Sometimes you had something more. A little extra that got you the gold. An ace in the hole. And that's exactly what Martin was.

He always told the bullies to bring it on. To show him how strong they thought they were. He would show them who the tough guy really was. Who the coward really was. He'd show them…


Was a walking mystery. Had no past. He'd shown up one day on the street of his namesake, wandering around. Lost. Alone. A mute with no past, and someone without much of a present.

He was always there, in the back of the room, thinking unimaginable thoughts. No one knew who he really was, what he could really do. And, after a while, they stopped caring. There was nothing special about the boy who sat with a blank stare in the back of the room, never saying anything, never doing anything except going where he was told. After a while he kind of faded into the background, into the wallpaper, a fly gone unnoticed, a fruit untouched.

The question was, was this exactly how he'd planned it?

So, did you all enjoy? I know there aren't very many stories in this fandom…actually, I believe that this is the third. But never fear! I know that it will soon grow and prosper.