The Confessional
Timeline: Season 2, 'The Dark Ages'
Disclaimer: don't own. Just using for a fanfiction. Belongs to M.E.
Timothy watched from underneath his mask as the small ray of ultra-hot flame began to weld the last bit of metal together. This would be one of his finest masterpieces yet, a rarity amongst all vehicles. As he had always been, and would hopefully always be, he was a creator. He held a poetic soul that would always be searching for new and better things…it was his father who had managed to make him manipulate this gift into something…that he called 'pure masculinity.' Babes, motorcycles, and muscles were what his good old dad had been about growing up and, thanks to him, Timothy wasn't different…just in the way he gained these things.
For him, women were more than just a prize. His father would often brag about how many women he'd laid back in his day, but, Timothy had, as of yet, not even Frenched a girl. That was purely by choice, too. For him, women were a rare form of art. They deserved to be treated well and admired, not pursued for a trophy to hang on a wall. This was something that drew many older women to him, ones who had been through people like his father. It was nice to be with someone he enjoyed and who enjoyed him, and he always went out of his way to make their time the best for them. The only reason why he hadn't been past first base was because he hadn't found the right girl. That was OK…he could wait.
Motorcycles and cars, on the other hand, were things that he never waited to work on. He considered it another art form, one that was sung only through money, these days. He wanted to turn an automobile into a work of art, to recreate the whole image of the vehicle. These days, people wanted technology and, while Timothy admitted it was important, he felt that a car held so much more life in it, and he was determined to let it out.
Muscles…well, he worked on cars most of the day and night. That was self-explanatory.
In short, he was his dad's dream son…just, with a deeper side to him. Fortunately, all his dad saw was the work in the cars and the attractiveness of the women he would bring home.
He put his torch aside and came out from underneath the frame, satisfied in the work he had put into this section of his vehicle. He took his gloves off and set them upon the nearby desk, just in any place that would hold them. He had no difficulty in finding things when he put them in different places. He actually enjoyed getting things from new places, it offered up the opportunity to find new things when you least expected it.
"Tim," he winced automatically as his father shouted out for him, he never ever once listened to him about his name, "Some kid's at the door for you!"
"Who is it," he shouted back, knowing that it couldn't be Susannah…she never had to be announced.
"…Some kid named Xander," he felt his insides turn cold upon hearing the name of his rescuer.
Here, Timothy was at a dilemma. He hoped that Xander Harris was at his house to tell him what was going on or to warn him off (not that it would stop Susannah) but, he also wondered if Xander was capable of more…sinister things. Just because he'd saved their lives didn't mean that he wouldn't kill someone who got in his way.
He might be at his house looking to eliminate a problem.
"…Send him in," he called back, grabbing a screwdriver and placing it inside of his belt loop as he did so. The odds were that Xander was a better fighter than he…Hell, he had to be. But, even so, Timothy had no intentions on going down without a fight.
The fight would last about five seconds but, he'd go to his grave knowing that he'd tried.
He kept his eyes trailed on the door, knowing that that was where he would come in at. As he waited, he took a seat and began to wipe his hands with a cloth, positioning the seat in a way that would give him a complete view of the door. That way, he could see Xander come in and have a good reason why.
The brass knob turned slowly, and Timothy forced himself to remain calm. For some reason, this whole circumstance was frightening to him. It was like…a part of him knew that his life may never be the same, and that if Xander did come through that door, it would never be the same.
He sorta wanted that door to remain closed. However, fate decided against his wish and allowed Xander Harris entry into his garage.
Xander entered the building cautiously, sensing nervousness all throughout the air as he did so. As he entered, he noticed that Timothy was sitting on a stool, wiping his hands…his entire posture was tense, and there was a screwdriver in his pants loop.
He thinks I'm here to shut him up, he thought to himself, Yeah, like I'd kill him for being curious.
"Hey, Timothy," he greeted the young man.
"Good evening," the mechanic greeted him curtly, "To what do I owe-"
"OK, let's stop right there," he held his hand up quickly and he noted that Timothy had already begun reaching for his screwdriver…good, "You know what this is about."
Timothy remained as he was, but said, "Yes."
"Good," he took a calming breath, hoping that it would help to diffuse the situation, and said, "I'm here to tell you everything."
Timothy was clearly surprised, for his entire body had gone slack and his arm had fallen from its place.
"…What," he asked, his eyes wide in confusion.
"Did you think I was here to kill you," he half-joked and, upon seeing Timothy turn his gaze downward, "…You did, didn't you?"
"Yeah," the young man answered as he stood up, "I did. I think…it was less to do with you and more to do with what's going to happen in a few moments."
"…You were afraid," Xander said with a grim smile, "Your mind started playing with you, made you think things that you usually wouldn't even suspect. Although, to be fair, you did have a good reason to think that…I could kill you for trying to find out, if it were a classified occurrence but, it's not so, I'm not."
"What, are you a commando or something," Timothy asked with a smile and, when Xander didn't answer immediately, that smile became a frown, "…You are, aren't you?"
The young warrior sighed aloud and motioned for Timothy to sit, while he grabbed a small beach chair and took a seat inside it. Once both teens were situated, Xander took a deep breath to steady himself and began his rehearsed speech.
"What you have in front of you right now," he said, "Is a choice. You can choose to listen to what I have to say and accept it as it is, either through your own intellect or through experience…or, you can choose to tell me to go to Hell and continue to live in the world as you know it. Fair warning…once you find out, you will never, and I mean never ever be able to go back. You can try but, I guarantee you will die. What you do with this knowledge is entirely up to you but, you still can't ignore what's out there. You'd have to prepare…or, you can stay in the dark, on the inside looking in.
"It's your choice."
Timothy took a deep breath. This was the very thing that he had been warring with himself over and, now that he was faced with the choice…he wasn't really sure what to say…or do.
"Susannah would want to be here," he said, stalling for time.
"She will be offered this same opportunity, as well," Xander told him, "Now, make your choice."
Timothy thought long and hard for several minutes, weighing all his options. If he were to listen to what Xander had to say…his life would be turned upside down, of that he had no doubt. If he didn't, though, he would forever be lost in doubt and fear over what he doesn't know.
In the end, the choice had always been right in front of him…he'd just been blinded by fear to realize it.
"I want to know."
Xander sighed, grateful and, at the same time, worried.
"Alright," he said, "It all began with the beginning of the world…"
A half-hour later, Susannah drove out of the hospital like a maniac…Timothy had called her, his voice shaky and filled with worry, and told her that Xander Harris was there, and he was waiting on her.
Needless to say, she was willing to break every traffic law there was just to find out what he had to say.