Into the Mirror Black: I
CONTENT:
Rating: Teen
Flavor: Drama, Angst
Language: none
Violence: a bit
Nudity: none
Sex: none
Other: none
Author's Note:
As the clock strikes one...
I
===#===
Malcolm turned to the man standing by the foot of the bed. Another spectre that had haunted his nightmares for many, many nights. At least, until he had rescued Thea from that train station.
"Tommy."
All the hope, the fear, the love, the pain, the guilt his presence caused filled that one simple word.
Malcolm reined back his emotions. It was only a dream, after all. It would not control him. "You're the Ghost of Christmas Past?"
Tommy shook his head. "Forget the Christmas crap, Dad. For once, this is, in fact, all about you." Yes, that was Tommy's biting acerbity all right. Then he softened. "Please. I need you to see this."
He offered his hand.
Malcolm wanted, more than anything in that moment, to be able to touch his son again. Mistrustful of this vulnerability, he almost pulled back, almost turned away. But he was weak. His hand closed over the faintly warm skin; Tommy gripped him firmly.
There was the hint of motion, like a silent train passing behind a screen of trees. Then they were no longer in the bedroom, but standing in the yard under the old pine at the mansion. It all looked preternaturally real. Different windows of the mansion lit up, like scenes in a diorama.
First, in the living room windows. Despite Tommy's assertion that this wasn't 'Christmas crap,' that was the first scene. A tall, brightly decorated tree stood within, a mountain of presents beneath it, Malcolm and Rebecca, smiling and laughing. They had allowed their toddler to overindulge in sugar, and little Tommy roared around the house, arms out as if he were flying, squealing in glee.
The light dimmed, and then there was a lone tree. Malcolm had tried to carry on, that first Christmas without Rebecca, but the light was gone from their lives. The windows grew darker, the house silent. Then a cry broke the stillness, a child's voice in the night. "Momma..." But his mother was gone. "Daddy...! Daddy?" No, he was gone as well. "Nana, where's my daddy?" There was no reply.
Again the diorama changed. Now a light burned in the lower level, revealing Malcolm bent at his desk, absorbed in his work. Another light burned in the west wing, upstairs, where Tommy played by himself. The child grew, his toys changed. A plastic car. An action figure. A baseball. A video game. The young teen paced nervously, dressed up to go to a dance. An older teen struggled not to cry over a lost love. All the while, the silent man stayed in his room, his back turned.
"You were never there when I needed you."
Malcolm bit his lip. Oh, he'd been there. There to bail Tommy out of jail, to buy off the paparazzi to keep the more embarrassing photos of Tommy out of the papers, to pay off the debts for the cars Tommy wrecked, the hotel rooms he'd trashed. None of these were the point. His son had led a lonely life. "I had to leave," Malcolm told him. "I had to do something to make this world a better place."
"You could have done that another way. Any other way." Tommy threw his arms out in frustration. "All the charities, all the good works, that whole Humanitarian of the Year thing - that could have been you. The real you, not some sham to hide what you truly are!"
Malcolm faced him. "It didn't work, Tommy. It was never enough. I wanted to see Starling City rebuilt into a better place, a safer place - for you, for everyone."
"You know, that's your problem, Dad. You're so focused on this goal of yours that it's all you can see. You don't care who you trample over to get there; you don't care who you damage, who you push aside. And when you get there, you never turn around and see the destruction you left behind."
The scene shifted and changed. Instead of the mansion, there were gutted buildings, partially collapsed. The streets were cracked and broken, lamp posts fallen over, dirt and debris everywhere. Decay.
"This isn't how it was supposed to be," Malcolm insisted. "It was supposed to be wiped clean, to be rebuilt anew, even better than it was before!"
"Your Utopia is nothing but rubble!"
Malcolm opened his mouth to argue, but suddenly the ground heaved under them. He was thrown away from Tommy. The ground kept shaking, the whole world roaring in the earthquake. Structures toppled, sparks flew from torn lines, people screamed and ran. Malcolm struggled to move back to his son. They had to escape!
He grasped at Tommy's arm, shouted at him, but his voice was lost in the din. Tommy looked past him. Malcolm turned and saw a building cave in on itself, spewing dust and rubble. Tommy broke free and ran towards it.
"Tommy! No! No, don't go in there!" He was heading to his death. "Tommy!" His name tore desperately from Malcolm's throat.
I can save him! He wanted to run after his son, but his legs wouldn't move. I can save him. I will save him! Malcolm strained, but only managed to stagger forward half a step. "Tommy!" He stretched out his arms to pull his son back, but he couldn't reach. He knew in his heart he'd never see Tommy again.
The building collapsed completely, and choking dust blotted out the light.
"...Tommy..."
He was gone.
===X===