Looking up at the familiar old house, Sean felt a wave of nostalgia. It looked just as he remembered it. The white walls, the brown tiles and burgundy door, chipped paint on the window frames and a well kept lawn with purple flowers lining the walkway. It was two floors, three bedrooms, one bathroom, and had a small garden at the back for children to play in.
Many years ago, Sean had lived in this house. He had been a young child living a happy life. He had had toys, a family and a bed. That had been a good time. And here he was, staring up at the house he hadn't seen since the day his parents died.
It had been a long time since he had come to this house, and never once in this timeline. Not this version of himself, and not this version of the house. Sean had been searching for a reality like this for a long time, and now he was here he wasn't sure what to do next.
The reality in which Sean now stood was the first reality he had located in which his mother and sister were still alive. It was also a reality in which he had died, or perhaps had never been born. He was sketchy on the exacts, but he knew there was no Sean Tavistock in this place.
Someone cleared their throat behind him, and he turned to face them. It was a woman and a young girl, maybe about ten years of age. The girl was unfamiliar to him, and he didn't know her name, but the woman was unmistakably his mother. It had been a long time since he'd seen her, and longer still since he'd been this close to her.
"Excuse me," she said, biting her lip slightly and pulling her daughter closer, protectively, as if she feared the ragged man before them. "Can I help you?"
At that moment, Sean wanted nothing more than to hug her, to hold her tight and inhale her perfume and pretend she really was his mother.
He held himself back.
"No. I used to live here, is all. I just...wanted to see it again."
Honor, his mother, frowned, as if she didn't believe that. "You look very young."
Of course. His mother had lived here a few years before he had been born. He shrugged. "I get that a lot." She wouldn't believe the truth even if he told her. "Sorry to bother you, ma'am." He walked past the two of them, letting his gaze linger on their faces for a little too long.
He saw, in that moment, what future awaited this version of Honor Tavistock, or rather, Honor Mitchell, as in this reality she returned to her maiden name after her husband tried to kill her before killing himself, and her young daughter. In a matter of months, the two of them would be dead. Illness was coming to this reality, was already sinking in, and if he stayed too long, he would catch it too. His eyes began to sting, a ball forming in his throat and a weight in his chest. All he wanted to do was meet his baby sister just one time, but he couldn't even ask her name without earning a look of fear and disgust from the woman he had once called mother. There was no recognition, no sign of care or concern. Just...fear. Some belief that the man in front of her meant her harm.
This reality was a failure as well. He'd never intended to stay, of course. He had more waiting for him in his home reality than he would ever have here, but for just a moment, stood before his childhood home, with his mother and sister stood with him, he could pretend. Pretend he was normal, pretend he didn't have his powers and that he hadn't seen his own death thousands of times over, that he lived in this house with this family instead of in a storage unit with toys and memorabilia from the various worlds he'd visited. It was a warm thought, but as he stood there, at the end of the drive, eyes closed and trying to imagine, his body just felt cold. Cold and sad. He heard the front door go as Honor and her daughter retreated inside, and knew they were about to report his behaviour to police. Instead of crying, he made sure no-one was looking, and went home.
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