Role Reversal: Sign of the Times
A Role Reversal-verse prequel ficlet!
Takes place before the first RR!fic, but hints at "Sugar" by the_audren_file.
Enjoy!
Role Reversal: Sign of the Times
Angela Morningstar looked over at the couch in the living room. Her son, Michael, was curled up, tapping a pencil lightly on his ear as he did his best to plow through Bram Stoker’s Dracula. Angela smiled...but that expression on her lips slowly faded to a tightly pressed line when she noticed a few things she hadn’t before. Michael’s skin was looking slightly tighter than it had earlier. His hair hung limply behind his ears and he seemed to have noticeable shadows under his eyes.
“Michael? Are you feeling alright?” she asked, careful to mask the concern in her voice with a smile.
Michael blinked before looking in her direction. He gave her a half smile of reassurance.
“Sure, Mom! Just a little tired is all,”
A little tired. That’s what he always said. He’d been “a little tired” for months.
A little tired.
Well, that is to be expected. He’s a growing boy, after all. Except that he’s not. Michael is overdue for a growth spurt. He’s still a shorter than her. Maybe his body was gearing up for one and making up for lost time. Everyone was different, after all.
Angela smiled back at him.
“Maybe you should go to bed early tonight. You’ve read enough for today,”
Michael gently closed his book and set it in the magazine rack beside the couch. He got up, dusted himself off and gave Angela a hug.
“Goodnight, Mom,” Michael said as he kissed her on the cheek before padding up the stairs while leaning on the banister.
His mother watched him go, but her eyes didn’t linger on how he actually used the banister for support.
“Good night, Michael. I’ll be up in a minute,”
Angela swallowed before returning to the kitchen where she finished washing, drying, and putting the dishes away. She swept off the counter and hung up the towel on the rack before going to check on Michael.
She knocked on his door a few times before slowly easing it open.
Michael had fallen asleep on top of the covers. He’d managed to get into his pajama pants and a tank top, both solid black. A worn out plush bunny peaked over the top of one of his pillows. Angela picked the toy up and ran a hand over its well loved fur in nostalgia.
Michael’s first Easter.
They had been visiting Gabriel’s friend and they had set up an egg hunt. Michael was just a baby, of course, but the adults had had fun playing with him and spoiling him. He’d been all golden baby curls and creamy, pink cheeks.
A far cry from the present...but so was everything else.
Gabriel was dead and buried and...and...Michael was...growing up, she mentally forced herself to finish. Her mind dare not stray farther from that.
Angela unfolded a thin Sumo Slammers themed blanket that Michael had on the end of his bed. She tucked it over her son and set the bunny next to his pillow. She gently stroked his limp, pale hair behind his ear. Then, she ran her hand through the hair on his head.
Her heart skipped a beat and an impossible lump formed in her throat when a large chunk of it came back with her hand. Her eyes darted to where it had come from. The patch wasn’t particularly noticeable and had come from his head as a whole, not one particular place.
She could hear her heartbeat in her ears. All of time seemed to stop. Her fingers tightened around the dry, limp strands and she slid off the bed, careful to be as quiet as possible. She snuck out of the room and closed the door. She padded down the hall to her room. She graciously entered and shut the door behind her. As soon as she had done so, she sunk defeatedly to the floor.
Something was wrong with Michael. Something she could not fix, no matter how much she loved him. The problem could be solved, but not without putting her son in very real danger. No, no, she had to protect him. She had to keep him safe...but by doing that...
Angela opened her hand and looked at the clump of dry, brittle hairs.
Hot tears stung at her eyes and she held the cluster close to her heart.
She wasn’t enough.
She’d tried, but she wasn’t enough.
There wasn’t anyone she could turn to for help. There were no support networks for her or Michael. Oh, there was the Plumber legal department...but almost everyone there was made of snide side glances and had a penchant for not shaking Michael’s hand. He didn’t have any advocate but her. The others...only did the bare minimum to make it look like they weren’t neglecting their job. The only one who had ever truly helped them was Gabriel’s old friend, but...but she couldn’t burden him with this problem. He could be putting his own career in danger, but...what else was she supposed to do? What else could she do?
Angela felt the tiny, dry hairs in her fingers and silently prayed for someone...anyone to help her son. He deserved better. He needed more. He needed to have a life that wasn’t all shame and hiding. He needed friends and relationships...and proper feeding that try as she might, she could not supply alone, no matter how much she wanted to.
>>>>>
Elsewhere, three complete dimensions over, Charmcaster paused in the middle of her incantation studies and sneezed.
Takes place before the first RR!fic, but hints at "Sugar" by the_audren_file.
Enjoy!
Role Reversal: Sign of the Times
Angela Morningstar looked over at the couch in the living room. Her son, Michael, was curled up, tapping a pencil lightly on his ear as he did his best to plow through Bram Stoker’s Dracula. Angela smiled...but that expression on her lips slowly faded to a tightly pressed line when she noticed a few things she hadn’t before. Michael’s skin was looking slightly tighter than it had earlier. His hair hung limply behind his ears and he seemed to have noticeable shadows under his eyes.
“Michael? Are you feeling alright?” she asked, careful to mask the concern in her voice with a smile.
Michael blinked before looking in her direction. He gave her a half smile of reassurance.
“Sure, Mom! Just a little tired is all,”
A little tired. That’s what he always said. He’d been “a little tired” for months.
A little tired.
Well, that is to be expected. He’s a growing boy, after all. Except that he’s not. Michael is overdue for a growth spurt. He’s still a shorter than her. Maybe his body was gearing up for one and making up for lost time. Everyone was different, after all.
Angela smiled back at him.
“Maybe you should go to bed early tonight. You’ve read enough for today,”
Michael gently closed his book and set it in the magazine rack beside the couch. He got up, dusted himself off and gave Angela a hug.
“Goodnight, Mom,” Michael said as he kissed her on the cheek before padding up the stairs while leaning on the banister.
His mother watched him go, but her eyes didn’t linger on how he actually used the banister for support.
“Good night, Michael. I’ll be up in a minute,”
Angela swallowed before returning to the kitchen where she finished washing, drying, and putting the dishes away. She swept off the counter and hung up the towel on the rack before going to check on Michael.
She knocked on his door a few times before slowly easing it open.
Michael had fallen asleep on top of the covers. He’d managed to get into his pajama pants and a tank top, both solid black. A worn out plush bunny peaked over the top of one of his pillows. Angela picked the toy up and ran a hand over its well loved fur in nostalgia.
Michael’s first Easter.
They had been visiting Gabriel’s friend and they had set up an egg hunt. Michael was just a baby, of course, but the adults had had fun playing with him and spoiling him. He’d been all golden baby curls and creamy, pink cheeks.
A far cry from the present...but so was everything else.
Gabriel was dead and buried and...and...Michael was...growing up, she mentally forced herself to finish. Her mind dare not stray farther from that.
Angela unfolded a thin Sumo Slammers themed blanket that Michael had on the end of his bed. She tucked it over her son and set the bunny next to his pillow. She gently stroked his limp, pale hair behind his ear. Then, she ran her hand through the hair on his head.
Her heart skipped a beat and an impossible lump formed in her throat when a large chunk of it came back with her hand. Her eyes darted to where it had come from. The patch wasn’t particularly noticeable and had come from his head as a whole, not one particular place.
She could hear her heartbeat in her ears. All of time seemed to stop. Her fingers tightened around the dry, limp strands and she slid off the bed, careful to be as quiet as possible. She snuck out of the room and closed the door. She padded down the hall to her room. She graciously entered and shut the door behind her. As soon as she had done so, she sunk defeatedly to the floor.
Something was wrong with Michael. Something she could not fix, no matter how much she loved him. The problem could be solved, but not without putting her son in very real danger. No, no, she had to protect him. She had to keep him safe...but by doing that...
Angela opened her hand and looked at the clump of dry, brittle hairs.
Hot tears stung at her eyes and she held the cluster close to her heart.
She wasn’t enough.
She’d tried, but she wasn’t enough.
There wasn’t anyone she could turn to for help. There were no support networks for her or Michael. Oh, there was the Plumber legal department...but almost everyone there was made of snide side glances and had a penchant for not shaking Michael’s hand. He didn’t have any advocate but her. The others...only did the bare minimum to make it look like they weren’t neglecting their job. The only one who had ever truly helped them was Gabriel’s old friend, but...but she couldn’t burden him with this problem. He could be putting his own career in danger, but...what else was she supposed to do? What else could she do?
Angela felt the tiny, dry hairs in her fingers and silently prayed for someone...anyone to help her son. He deserved better. He needed more. He needed to have a life that wasn’t all shame and hiding. He needed friends and relationships...and proper feeding that try as she might, she could not supply alone, no matter how much she wanted to.
>>>>>
Elsewhere, three complete dimensions over, Charmcaster paused in the middle of her incantation studies and sneezed.