In Which the Timeline Changes

A tear stained boy stumbled down a set of steps, scientific equipment surrounding him as he ventured lower and lower beneath his house.

Swiping angrily at his eyes with trembling hands, he beelined straight for the hole in the far wall, black and yellow striped tape surrounding it.

They had just made fun of him for crying. Called him weak. He sniffed, standing up straighter as he stared into the darkness on the other side. He could do this. He had to.

Wiping the blood from his split lip, he weaved around the bundles of chaotically tossed cord snaking across the floor and crossed over the line. After twenty or so steps, the suffocating black was all he could see.

Glancing back, he saw that the fluorescent lights of his parent's lab were a long way off, nothing but a round pinprick. He braved a few more steps until even they had disappeared, his sneakers squeaking loudly in the smothering silence.

This would show them, prove he wasn't what they thought he was. They hadn't believed he would ever go in; look at him now.

And maybe, a softer, quieter part of his mind whispered, maybe he wouldn't ever have to come out.

Moving forward again, his clumsy teenage feet suddenly caught on one of the stray wires and he was falling, the pit of his stomach weightless. Gasping, his hands flailed for something, anything, to hold him up. To support him.

The button clacked and the walls hummed, green energy beginning to build as the boy inside began to scream.

All this you know, all this you expected.

What you may not have expected, however, was the malfunction.

A miscalculation in the timeline, a twisted string of fate: whatever you want to call it.

The portal exploded, sending a massive shockwave throughout the house and shaking the very city to its foundations. An entirely new dimension becoming tethered to their own.

The three other lifeforms in the house crumbled. Father, mother, and daughter, now gone.

The rest of the house, all but the lab, remained untouched.

Only later, when a crying, black and white form crawled out from under the wreckage of his parent's equipment, were the events of the accident made clear.

An abandoned teal jumpsuit and familiar ruby-lensed goggles rested on a pile of dust, a much larger jumpsuit coloured like a traffic cone beside it.

Later, when he finally gained enough strength to move, he would find an all too familiar blue headband atop a mountain of ash in front of the fridge.

For now, the black and white form clutched the abandoned jumpsuits tight as he cried, screamed, begged.

None of it made much difference.

16 Years Later

Someone was poking her in the eye and if they didn't stop right now she was going to tear their fingers off and stick them up their—

"Momma? Momma! Wake up!"

Thirty-year old Samantha Manson cracked open a single violet eye, narrowing it at the little girl harassing her.

Two small green eyes bravely met her own, a spray of freckles dancing on the rounded nose and cheeks beneath them, "Momma!"

"What, gremlin child?" Sam growled out, pulling the blanket over her head and dislodging her daughter in the process.

The girl giggled, fingers poking at the downy hotel covers were her mother lay in burrito form. "We going house searching, remember?"

The woman sat up, mouth slack with surprise, "What time is it?" She quickly hopped off the bed, throwing her pajamas off and desperately rooting through her suitcase for something presentable.

"It is nine, two, four." The girl read off the hotel's digital clock proudly before beginning to jump up and down on the bed, "That's when you said to wake momma up!"

Sam pulled a slightly cleaner than the rest black hoodie over her head, "Thanks, little bean." She paused suddenly, gasping in mock surprise at her daughter's state of dress. "But how am I going to take you with me if you're wearing your pjs?"

The girl took a minute to look thoroughly scandalized before rushing to her own little travel bag, yanking out her entire arsenal of brightly coloured clothes. "Tutu today, momma?"

"I don't see why not," Sam called from the bathroom, running a brush through her shoulder length hair before pulling up the top half of it and tying it.

Her whirlwind of a daughter appeared before her again, wearing a sequined green top, pink tutu, and neon yellow tights. "Ready!"

"Teeth," Sam chided, applying a bit of mascara to her lashes.

The walking fashion disaster groaned, "Do I have toooo?"

"Do you want real teeth when you're older?"

"No!"

Sam covered her chuckle with a scoff, "Too bad, brush anyway."

"Fine."

Once the pair were ready to go, respective hygiene rituals complete, they chaotically packed the rest of the room until both suitcases were stuffed to their bursting point.

"Are you sure you have everything?" Sam, well versed with her offspring's habit off leaving things behind, knelt under the bed to double check. "I think I see a familiar shape under there, could it be—"

"Professor Bazooka!" The girl shrieked loudly before worming under the bed, her tutu flat against the floor. "I almost lost him again."

She soon popped back into view, a hideously deformed stuffed rabbit in her grasp. Years ago, it had lost one of its glinting red eyes and, to stave her child's tears, Sam had been forced to construct an eyepatch. Its fur was a greasy cream colour, unable to make up its mind between white and grunge yellow, and it reeked no matter how many times she washed it. All in all, she hated it.

But her daughter loved it, so Sam took it in stride. If the girl most precious to her in all the world decided the rabbit was a part of their family, then Professor Bazooka stayed.

That being said, she occasionally still wished for the stuffed animal's slow and violent demise.

After checking out of the hotel and handing in their key cards, they made their way towards a faded Volkswagen beetle, its yellow paint lacking any semblance of past lustre.

"I missed Carl," The girl hugged the car, her tiny arms barely managing to encompass more than two feet of the vehicle's hood.

Sam smiled softly at the sight before starting up the car, quickly typing the desired address into her phone, "Me too."

The clinical British voice of Maps lead them through the winding small town streets, the only inhabitants out and about being retired joggers. Her daughter's gaze was glued to the window in the back seat, wide eyes taking in every passing house.

"Will it look like that one?" The girl asked, pointing at a large, three story masterpiece.

Sam winced as she took a turn, the voice informing her that their destination was on the left. "I'm not sure, bean."

They pulled up to the only real estate office in Amity, located in a large business lot with carefully trimmed shrubs guiding them to the front doors.

The interior was dimly lit, odd decorations covering every surface. Slipping her child's hand into her own, Sam made her way towards the front desk with hesitant steps.

"I'm here for the ten thirty meeting with, uh," She double checked her slip of paper. "Mrs. Baxter?"

The woman at the front desk smiled at her, revealing blindingly white teeth, "Of course, you can head right in. Would your daughter like to stay out here?"

The girl's grip on her mother's hand tightened as she slipped behind Sam's back, casting a distrustful look at the woman. "Thanks, but she'll come with me."

"Alrighty then, follow me this way please." The woman was deceptively tall when she rose from her desk chair, three-inch heels adding to the affect.

She led them down a narrow hallway towards the last door on the left, giving them a wave before heading back the way they'd came, stilettos clicking on the tile.

Sam stared at the door handle and felt the distance between it and her lengthen, stretching until it was no longer within her reach. Her hand hesitated, a slight tremor wracking it as she considered what opening this door could entail.

"It's not gonna bite you, momma."

That was all the encouragement she needed; there was no way she was going to be act like a coward in front of her daughter. It was time to move on. "Thanks, bean."

The door popped open with a click and, together, mother and daughter filed inside, not looking back as it closed behind them.

Little did they know, that single action had just changed their lives forever.

This AU is just a little something I wrote up while I was at the hospital with my family member; I didn't have my PTR (A Play to Remember) stuff with me and got the itch to write, thus this story was born :p

I had fun writing it and decided to stick it up here.

If you have any questions/concerns/theories/ideas, I'd love to here 'em! As always, thanks for reading~

~ASL