Hard to Hate You // Michael Langdon

Part XII - Flashback

"Michael, you didn't actually want to be this way.  You got caught up in this idea of killing the witches, and your father used it to manipulate you into starting the apocalypse for him."

A tear forms in his eye and he looks towards his younger self who is now threatening Cordelia.  "Well, what the hell am I supposed to do?" he says desperately.  "I caused the apocalypse; there's no undoing that.  I may as well finish what I started or die trying."

I shake my head.  "Michael, is that what you really want to do?  You have options.  Just think about it; the witches have some reason that they decided to wait to confront you until after the apocalypse.  Do you think they would allow you to cause the apocalypse if they didn't know how to undo it?"

"What are you saying?" he asks.

"I'm saying that I think the witches are planning on doing something to undo the apocalypse, such as altering the timeline.  How, I have no clue.  My point is, Michael,  I think you can fix this.  You can help the witches and undo the mess that your father has made.  You still have some good in you, surely you can see that this is the right thing to do."

I motion to Michael's younger self.  "Do you think he actually wanted to cause the apocalypse?  He just wanted to make Ms. Mead happy, who was vicariously living her dreams of the apocalypse through him.  Let's face it: almost everybody in your life has used you in one way or another."

"And you aren't using me?" he questions.

"If I had anything to use you for, I would've done it long ago," I roll my eyes jokingly.

He smiles smally, a troubled look in his eyes as he looks between me and his younger self.  I slowly stroke his jaw to try to comfort him.  He turns all his attention to me as he places his hand over mine.  "Valentina," he says quietly.  "I can't."

I let my hand drop, not bothering to mask my disappointment.  "Michael..."

He stands up, making it clear that his decision will not be reversed.  I quickly transmutate in front of him, crossing my arms.  "Why?"

"This needs to be done.  It's what Ms. Mead would want, as well as my father."

I take his face in my hand.  "But what do you want?"

I can see the internal battle playing out behind his eyes.  "It doesn't matter what I want," he sighs.  "I just want to make them happy."

"Michael, you can't make Ms. Mead happy.  She's dead, and her soul will never find out what you did or didn't do.  And your father can suck ass.  You shouldn't care what he thinks.  Besides, he's obviously wrong sometimes; he chose me to be your ally, and that wasn't the wisest decision."

He chuckles lightly and blinks a few tears from his eyes.  I lightly brush his hair out of his face as I wipe away his tears.  He leans into my hand, and for the first time ever, I see him happy to be in my presence.

After a few seconds, it becomes clear that a new energy is brewing between us, one that we've never experienced before.  It's one of sorrow, yet also of peace and tranquility.  Going with my instinct, I slowly lean forward and press my lips to his.  He willingly accepts, the kiss comforting him through his situation.

This kiss is entirely different from our first kiss: it's calm, gentle, and serene.  Instead of kissing out of anger and frustration towards each other, we're doing so out of vulnerability and the need to feel comforted.  Michael melts into the kiss, taking my face in his hands.

I slowly pull away and look into Michael's eyes.  "Michael, please..."

"Valentina, I want to, trust me," he sighs, the remorse clear in his eyes.  "I just can't."