Chapter 1: Split Decisions
Mallory's breathing is heavy and determined as she sits patiently in a car, every thought in her mind has been collected and focussed on a singular goal. She's literally travelled through the forces of time to kill Michael Langdon, the bringer of the end of days, and the Anti-Christ before he discovers his endless degree of powers, as well as his endless lust for death and misery. Mallory's mind trails off to the billions of lives the future Michael is responsible for destroying, and watching those who were close to her die too; Zoe, Queenie, Kyle, Coco, Misty, Madison, and even Cordelia, the people who supported and revealed the purity of her powers, and those who still can as long as she completes her goal. She still has time to kill Michael, she has to, it's her first duty as the next Supreme, not only to save the Coven but the world alongside it. After two hours of waiting for Michael to reveal himself, Mallory's patience is all but drained, not even blasting some music from the radio or practising her magic could pass the time. But out of the blue, the sounds of screaming is heard from the Murder House neighbours, some words can be made out, followed by the roar of a slamming door. A figure, wearing a light blue denim jacket, a yellow shirt and tan long pants finds slowly struts away from the house, seemingly reluctant to walk away. Mallory watches the figure slowly walk into view, and it's him, it's Michael, and she wastes no time starting the engine and changing the car into drive, preparing herself for the killing blow. But after watching and observing him, she stops in her tracks, her staring causing her to realise that this Michael has no resemblance to that of the one she knows. He stands on the side of the road, tears rolling down his cheeks and onto his shirt as he stares into the nothingness, sobbing, almost like he's in shock. He stares aimlessly around the streets, crying and whimpering to himself, and Mallory can't help but feel the devastation and helplessness that aches at his heart. This isn't the Michael she knows, nowhere close to him, this Michael is lost like a child in a supermarket. Mallory reaches to his emotions, and there's no evil, no lust for power or death, no greed; instead, there's regret, an endless emptiness, sadness and confusion above all, and this powerful self-hatred. That's when their eyes meet, blue against light brown, Mallory can now feel desperation and hope attaching itself to Michael's heart; if she's going to kill him, it's now or never.
"C'mon! Just kill him, he's right there, put your pedal to the metal and kill him."
Her heart races uncontrollably, her mind almost shattering instantly from the pressure as she grips tightly onto the steering wheel, but those eyes, the way they stare. The way he stares, it's so... innocent... and so lost. As her grip on the steering wheel softens, she realises that she's made her decision.
"For fuck sake."
For better or for worse, she knows that for some reason, she's decided not to kill Michael, and instead, has vowed to try and help him. She exits the vehicle.
"H- hello?" Michael says to her, his voice almost cowering as she walks towards him. She could break his neck with the flick of her wrist, she has ample opportunity to kill him right now, but why isn't she? As Mallory finds herself closer to Michael, she realises that he's not entirely in the mindset of someone his age, his mindset is more that of a young child, maybe even a pre-schooler. "Hello, can you- can you help me? Please, I have nowhere to go- I have- I have no one. I promise I'll behave, I- I didn't mean to hurt anyone."
The pleas of desperation are almost heart-shattering and completely out of character, but the mentioning of Michael hurting someone sounds familiar. "What do you mean, kid? Who did you hurt?"
The question causes him to sob once again, his light blue eyes welling with tears, answering the question is much more difficult than Mallory could hope to understand. "I- I- I didn't mean to hurt him- he was sticking his crucifix in my face and it was burning me. I tried to tell him to stop but-but he wouldn't and I- I lost my temper. I didn't mean to hurt him."
"It's okay, kid, calm down," Mallory whispers, slowly placing her hand on his arm, the sudden touch causing him to instinctively grab onto her arm, but not violently, rather softly. She remembers the way the Michael she knows would touch her; a mixture of seduction and interrogation; like he wanted to pry every deepest darkest secret out of you. This Michael, the way he touches her, it's like she's a delicate flower, at least for the time being. "Hey, it's okay, I'm not going to hurt you. You- mentioned you have nowhere to go?" Mallory doesn't know where she's going with this, at this point of her life she wasn't attending Miss Robichaux's, and if she's to take him with her, what then? He's a Warlock, at least that's what the Witches will define him as, that's if they don't discover his heritage. That's another issue; should she tell him of his true heritage? Or should he find out himself? This has gotten much more complicated than running Michael over with a car, but he's not evil, he isn't the demon that she knows from the future, he's just a boy, a shy, vulnerable boy. She can't kill him anymore, the thought of killing him makes her feel sick to her stomach, and the fact that she was really considering killing him makes it all the worse. Maybe she has the power to change his path forever? What if taking him in, giving him a place to call home, helping him practice and control his abilities, and showing him kindness, completely swerves him from his path? The idea gives Mallory hope, and as Michael's shy eyes begin to look away from her, she makes her decision for better or for worse.
"Are you able to grab some of your stuff from the house-"
"No!" Michael snaps a little, causing Mallory's hand to slip from his arm, something that shocks even himself. "I- I'm sorry, I- I can't go back."
"Would you like me to go back for you? Grab you a few things before we go?" Mallory asks again, watching as Michael slowly nods his head, his nose sniffling. "Alright, I'll take you to the car."
Michael walks alongside Mallory, looking as if he wants to hold her hand, like a child holding a parent's hand to cross the road. That makes her wonder how long it will take before his mind matures to match his physical form because she knows it will eventually. She opens the door to the passenger side and Michael quickly finds himself in the car, strapping himself in and sitting patiently.
"Thank you, um- I'm sorry I- don't know your name."
"Mallory, my name is Mallory."
"My name is Michael, Michael Langdon."
"It's nice to meet you, Michael," Mallory says, smiling at him, getting a nervous and quirky smile back. She looks back at the house. "That's the place, right?" He nods. "I'll be right back, I'll just get you some spare clothes and your shoes, sound good?"
"Sounds good," Michael agrees, smiling again as Mallory begins to walk away, heading towards the house, noticing that she's being watched from the window; the figure disappearing when they realise Mallory has noticed them.
Just as Mallory is about to reach the porch, the front door opens, revealing an older woman in a gown, a cigarette in one hand and an alcoholic beverage in the other. She doesn't seem to want any company, that's for sure.
"What the fuck do you want, little girl?" The older lady hisses, stopping Mallory in her tracks, giving her a chance to reach into her emotions. Anger. Regret. Hatred. She's almost broken beyond repair, one more push and she'll shatter into a million pieces. Mallory needs to be careful with this one.
"My name is Mallory, I'm- well- I'm here to take Michael into my care, I'm just here to collect a few of his things, and then we'll be on our way."
"Okay, now, why in fucking hell would you want to take care of that little monster? You know that's what he is, right? A monster?" The complete silence gives Mallory away, and the look of shock and awe appears on the older woman's face. "So, you do know what he is?"
"I know what he is, yes, I know what he's capable of and the things he will do without guidance, but I also know that he's not too far gone. I've met someone who's gone to the place nobody returns, I met someone I was unable to save, but I can help him, I can guide him away from the violence and death. Please, I have to try, at least."
"Why are you truly doing this?" The older woman questions, seemingly staring straight through Mallory's entire being.
"Because it's the right thing to do," Mallory answers, standing her ground, leaving the two in silence. The older woman breaks eye contact before disappearing from sight, only to come back with a small duffel bag, built to the brim.
"Here, I've packed a few of the clothes I know he'll wear, as well as his toothbrush, I've kicked along his shoes as you can see. Is that everything you needed from me?" Mallory nods, grabbing onto a seemingly fresh pair of shoes. "Well, good luck I guess. Oh, I'll give you a couple of tips; Michael loses his temper quite easily, so you'll want to watch out for that, he can get violent at times. He's a- he's a- he tries- try to be patient with him."
"I will, thank you."
"Okay, now get the fuck off my property," she growls before slamming the door in Mallory's face.
Mallory sighs heavily to herself as she picks up the small yet packed duffel bag, slowly making her way back to the car, and as it's slowly drawn into view, she sees something she never expected. Michael sits in the passenger side of the car, his eyes closed, seatbelt on, and his head tilted towards the window, almost completely asleep. Mallory tries to stay as quiet as possible as she opens one of the doors and places Michael's belongings inside the car, placing Michael's shoes behind his seat. She closes the door a little too loud and hears Michael twitch in his seat.
"M- Mallory? Is that you?" He asks, his voice soft and almost scared.
"It's me, Michael, I'm just putting your stuff in the car, and we'll be on our way, we have one hell of a trip ahead of us. We'll have to make a few stops for food and bathroom breaks, but we'll be there in no time," Mallory explains, a smile slipping on her face. But why?
"Mallory?"
"Yes, Michael?"
"Where exactly are we headed?" He asks, watching as she opens the door to the driver's side and slips into her seat. She looks into his eyes, so full of hope and to a lesser extent, excitement. How could she kill him? How could she even come close to considering it? This is absolutely not the Michael she knows, that Michael will NOT exist in this timeline, not if Mallory has anything to say about it. That's when he places his hand on hers, giving it a soft squeeze, a squeeze of reassurance for him, then a squeeze of reassurance for both them once she squeezes back. "Do you know where we could go?"
"Yeah, I know a place," Mallory smirks, putting the car in gear. "We're headed to New Orleans, a place we can call home."