Phantoms of the past

Posted on Fri Nov 1st, 2024 @ 14:10 by Alastair Temple
Edited on on Fri Nov 1st, 2024 @ 14:19

Chapter: Besieged
Location: The Blue Door Inn, New Cresthill
Timeline: Late afternoon, wednesday, February 2nd, 1993
1608 words - 3.2 OF Standard Post Measure

Every time the door opened, she startled, adrenaline rushing through her veins. Apprehension. Caution. Doubt. But every time the door opened, it proved a false alarm, and someone else entered. Someone strange. Though she didn't know anyone in this town. It could be argued she didn't even know the person she was waiting for, since it had been well over twenty years since she last saw him. A moment she would rather forget, as the circumstances of their last time together were - less than pleasant. Memorable. But less than pleasant.

She had found out his address - it wasn't too hard really, considering he had appeared on BBC television only recently in a special about the Avalon institute - and had sent him a letter. An invite, to be at this location, at this time. To talk. Though she had sent the letter long before the current blockade was even a thing, so she honestly didn't expect him to come.

The door chimes jangled again. Once more she glanced over. It was about half an hour after the time stated in the invite. The older - pushing 60 - woman's heart skipped a beat, the urge to flee, to disappear, washing over her like a cold chill. She gulped, apprehension, fear and determination equal on weathered, aged features, as she saw him striding in.

Al stepped inside the inn's common area, looking remarkably clean from snow - contrasting everyone else who had braved the outside at this time, in this weather. When pushed, he might admit he had flown in in raven form and shifted in the alley next to the inn before making his way to the door. As mutant friendly as this town was, amidst current socio-political tensions he did prefer to shift out of view.

His eyes glided through the space, looking for the person who had sent the letter, sent the invite. When he saw her he halted, his expression unreadable. Tired, weary perhaps. A hint of a scowl. But also determination. A storm of emotions, not all of them pleasant. The woman had looked very different in his memories, much younger, much more vitality, not this weathered older lady with a mass of silver hair, age and years of worry carved on her features. A deep breath, as he headed over, pulling out a chair and sitting down opposite the woman, placing his top hat on the table.

"Mother," his rumbling baritone intoned.

"Al," she replied, her voice cracking a little bit.

The two sat in silence, regarding each other, sizing the other up as they sat, before she spoke again. "You're looking - ... great. Healthy," she admitted, with a hint of a ghostly smile.

Silence from the music teacher.

"It's - ... good to see you doing well," she added, reaching for her coffee to take a sip before remembering that she had drained her cup a few minutes ago, setting it back down.

"Why am I here?" Alastair asked.

"I - .. " Wanted to see you. Wanted to talk to you. Wanted to -

"Your father passed away, a few months ago," she managed after a moment's hesitation.

Silence from Al, his expression faltering for a moment. "I am sorry for your loss," he offered, mostly sincerely. Mostly. "Though you'll excuse me, I hope, for not grieving as - intensely."

She could only nod. "Thank you," Truth be told the rest of his statement had hurt, although she understood it. "I followed your career. In secret. Your friends - ... I'm sorry for your loss as well. You must've been close," Truth be told she didn't know how close, but him disappearing from the public eye into the solitude of a hermit's life after their passing was enough of a clue.

Alastair's expression softened. Saddened. "Thank you," he quietly offered.

The two sat in awkward silence for another moment, before she spoke again. "So, how have you been?"

"Why are you here?" Al deflected her question. "No games, no small talk, no beating around the bush. Why are you here?"

Madeline Temple-Briggs was taken aback by the question. She took a moment to collect herself, instinctively reaching for the empty coffee cup before stopping herself, remembering that there was no more liquid strength to be found in the vessel.

"I want to see if I can - ... try to mend broken bridges. Be a part of your life again," she eventually offered.

"You kicked me out, when I was thirteen, without so much as a bag of clothes," Alastair coldly countered. "To survive off the land, live homeless, scavenge for food."

The woman looked down, shoulder slumping. "I know," her voice barely above a whisper. "But, your father - "

"My father is dead. He's not here. We're not talking about him, we're talking about you," Al interrupted her.

"He was the head of the household. I had to do wha - "

"Had to? Or what?" Al's words were cold.

Madeline remained silent.

"No hiding behind what Brand said. Or the pastor. Or the bible. Or the school's headmaster. I looked to you, of all people, to stand up for me, protect me," His voice was calm, though he couldn't prevent an accusatory tone from slipping through.

"I know," she quietly offered.

Once more an awkward silence reigned between the two, only the murmur from the other patron's conversations and the background music being heard.

"I wanted to, I just - " she trailed off, shaking her head, tears welling up in her eyes though she steeled herself to keep from breaking down right then and there. "I couldn't, I was afraid - ... I - ... Didn't."

Al's expression softened again. He could hear the meaning in her words. Pain. Regret. And truth. Still, he remained silent, giving her time to form thoughts, to form words.

"I'm - ... sorry," she quietly offered, starting to reach a hand out towards his, though hesitating and placing it back down on the table again. Al for his part didn't move.

"I should have spoken up. But I didn't. I should have tried to stop them. But I didn't. I should have - " she heaved a deep sigh, a tear rolling down her weathered cheek as she looked up at him. "I'm so sorry, Al. Please believe me, I'm so, so very sorry~"

Al did believe her. He'd never known his mother to apologize for anything, so for her to say those words, it meant a lot. Though whether it meant enough remained to be seen.

"I believe you," he quietly offered after another moment's pause. "I believe that you - ... regret what happened. I believe that you are truly sorry, and I truly believe that you want to make amends."

She looked at him hopefully, reaching up to wipe away the tear.

"But you'll understand that too much has happened for me to forgive you like that," Al's words hit her like a hammerblow. "I remember the words Brand used to describe me. The pastor used. The headmaster used. Hellspawn. Evil incarnate. Satan's agent. Demon. You stood by them, then. Do you still stand by them now?"

"I don't know," Madeline offered, weakly.

Al remained silent.

"I don't believe you're evil," his mother eventually continued. "When I saw you on TV, you spoke about - ... wanting to give those kids a safe space, so they didn't have to go through what - ... you did," She couldn't quite meet his eyes, her own shame, her own guilt too great. "That struck me. I can't deny it cut me deep. But it also made me think. Filled me with pride, that you grew up to want to protect children, despite what - ... was done to you."

Al gave a nod.

Madeline continued. "I don't know about - ... those words, that were spoken to you. I mean, I was there, I just - ... I don't know if they are true or not. Just - ... " she trailed off, looking for the right words to say. Her thoughts a storm, her emotions a raging sea, her belief - once so strong - on shaky ground. "I think you're a good man, Al. Regardless of what you are. And - ... You are right. Were right, in what you said on TV. People should be judged on what they do, not what they are."

Now it was Al's turn to reach a hand out to gently rest on hers. Only for a moment, but a moment was all that it took, and the woman burst into tears, no longer able to hold it back.

"Thank you. For saying that," he spoke, quietly. "Maybe - ... you can be part of my life again, and I part of yours. Though it's going to take time, and hard work."

She smiled and nodded through her tears. It was all she could do, as words failed her.

"I should head back to the castle," Al eventually spoke, his voice soft. "There's a lot going on, a blockade, tensions rising. I should be with my colleagues, my students."

"Will you be ok? With that blockade?" Madeline asked.

"Yeah," Al smiled softly. "I'll just fly over, no big deal," With that he rose to his full height again and took up his hat, starting for the door. "Come visit the castle some time, when this has all blown over. If - ... the school is still active, by that time."

"I will. Thank you - ... For coming, for listening," she sniffled and smiled, watching him leave again.

A moment later, amidst the sound of beating wings, a large raven was seen taking flight near the Blue Door Inn.