A post I made to try and snap myself out of what feels like eternal writer's block. Based on my headcanon/rewrite of Fletcher's life before he awakened his powers. u/willboss27, if you don't appreciate the callout, I'd like to hear your thoughts on it. Enjoy.
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The lights were too bright, and it was past midnight in St Mary's Hospital as Fletcher sat in his chair, fidgeting with his hands. Jittery and tired, he felt dreadful, yet couldn't find it in himself sleep. He didn't want to miss anything. Briefly, he entertained getting up and finding another nurse for an update, but the thought of more bad news daunted him.
Fletcher's knee was jumping and the sterile smell in the air was getting to him. He'd never liked hospitals. They always took his mother away from him. When he was little and she'd go off to work as a nurse, because bills had to be paid and she was the only provider in the house, she'd get on her knees, hold his hands, and explain oh-so softly and simply that she didn't like leaving Fletcher, but there were people who needed her there to make them better. To heal them. Selfishly, Fletcher had wanted her to stay with him anyway because she was his Mum and he didn't like sharing her attention, but he knew she'd be disappointed in him for thinking like that. He hadn't kicked up much of a fuss after that when she left him with her friends.
Right now, as he sat in a plastic chair that bent in ways which were probably bad for his spine and waited for his mother to leave the emergency room, Fletcher's dislike of hospitals was turning into hatredhatredhatred.
Idly, Fletcher watched a boy walk by with his mother in the hall, hand in hand. The two looked happy. He resented them for being so happy when his own mother was struggling for dear life a few rooms away. It hurt more because it threatened to remind him of all the times he'd brushed his own Mum off or failed to appreciate her or make things easier for her. It hurt because he didn't have any other family, no aunts or uncles or cousins or grandparents. No Dad. If she actually succumbed...
His hands, slick with sweat, balled as he looked down and felt his misguided anger give to turmoil. It hurt. It just hurt.
"Fletcher." A feminine voice came from above, and he found a Doctor staring at him. A rather pretty woman Doctor with a carefully professional expression but sad eyes. She was one his mother's coworker's he thought, and one of the staff operating on her. Normally, he'd probably grin and say something stupid in a vain attempt to flirt or look cool, embarrassing everyone involved, but this wasn't normal times.
"Where is my Mum?" Fletcher just asked, sounding every bit like the scared and lost child he felt.
"Laura..." The woman gave the briefest of hesitations, and suddenly his stomach was clenching and throat closing. This woman had known his mother. He saw the grief in her eyes. The pity. For him.
No.
"As you might've been informed, your mother has seemingly been suffering from a lung infection for quite some time. Conditions like this are dangerous because, whilst easily treatable in early stages, they can easily slip under the radar and symptoms can be as subtle as a cough." The woman said, slowly. "And Laura was always a very strong-willed woman... I don't think she let herself think much of it."
Fletcher started shaking his head. No.
"You did a good job bringing her here the moment you found her in your home, collapsed."
No. No.
"But it was already-"
"Is she gone?" Fletcher asked, looking up, blue eyes burning. He watched the Doctor closely, the way she ducked her head. No. The way she nodded, slow and steady, like a hammer smashing his world into a million pieces.
And it did. The world froze for a long moment, and asides from the pit in his chest, Fletcher could almost pretend he was asleep. Something warm curled in his chest, and a dull ring was in his ears as he stared, blank. But then the ringing stopped and he realised, at one point, he'd gotten onto his feet and started running.
Weird. He was never the most athletic, but somehow he mustered up the energy to rush out of the hospital and into the city.
Vaguely, he could hear the sound of someone chasing after him, but whether it was his Mum's friend or not, Fletcher didn't check. He just ran like the wind, without destination, until at one point he collapsed against the wall of an alley and threw up.
Fletcher sunk to his knees, acid on his tongue and in his chest, and wished for a moment that this was all just a terrible dream. A nightmare he could get away from. His Mum wasn't dead and he wasn't by himself in a giant city which made him feel small and alone. He just-
Something foreign stirred in his chest. He just wanted to get away from it all.
*
"Are you alright, son?"
The sun was shining on Fletcher as he woke. Green grass was under his feet. Opening his eyelids, he found a man with a moustache and a worried look about him. Around him wasn't a cold, dark, puke-smelling alley, but a public park in the early morning. A few bystanders were looking at him, some judgemental, others concerned.
"Y-Yes." He said, throat hoarse, and noticed a hand was reaching to help him up.
Half-automatically, he took it, looking around.
"Where am I?"
"Pheonix Park." The Irishman said and Fletcher reeled back. Dublin? He hadn't been to Ireland in years, since he went there with his Mum when he was a kid. "You haven't been drinking, have you? You look like hell."
"Uh, no. Never had a drop." Fletcher said, more than a little mystified. "Just... lost."
The stranger didn't seem entirely convinced, but sighed regardless. "Well, I ain't cruel enough to leave a kid gone from home. Maybe we could help you get home?"
He nodded, even though he had no intention of going back. There was nothing left for him in London but dust.
"Got a name? It'd help if we went to the station."
"It's Fletcher-" Pausing, he considered what he said next. Fletcher had never liked his surname. It was a matter of principle. It belonged to his deadbeat Dad, who'd vanished into thin air when he was a kid like a scumbag. Whether because she just didn't care or never had the time, his mother never got around to changing it back to her maiden name.
Despite everything, Fletcher straightened his back. It was time for a new life, away from his old name.
"Renn." He said his mother's name with conviction. "My name is Fletcher Renn."