A/N: Yeah yeah yeah...everyone's probably thought about this, or created some sort of rendition in their mind, but this is how I saw Macon making his choice.
Disclaimer: Obviously, this is NOT mine...
Macon opened his eyes.
The room was dim, candles supplying the only light to the large expanse. The occupants were sat at a table, each of them eyeing each other nervously. There was only one way of thinking in their minds, one track that all had followed. All but him, the man hidden in the shadows of the light. His place at the table kept him from obvious attention, although more and more were looking at him. He knew the look well. Years of living with his father had ensured that. Pity. Pity lit their faces more than he thought was possible. He didn't know which event they focused on, however. The abuse he had endured as a child. The loss of his mother. Leaving Jane. Betraying his family. He pulled from the table, waiting for a brief minute. With a deep breath, he stood. Without looking back, he walked briskly from the group. He didn't know where he was heading.
His thoughts were far too muddled for him to have any coherency. Only when cold night air roughly caressed him did he stop. His hands slipped into his pockets. He could hear every breath of the Casters on the other side of the house. He identified them all twice, listing the possiblities to keep his fraying nerves calmed. Obidias has a wheeze...perhaps I should see how he's feeling. Delphine's heart is racing. I'll have to ask her about that later... Finally, he focused on his own breathing, long and even. His eyes scanned the darkness before he let them close, leaning against the building to support himself. She's going to kill us. She isn't even conceived and she's going to destroy half her family. He ignored the voice in the front of his mind. Half of your family. His hands twitched at the word, faces flashing in his mind's eye. Something brushed past his fingers. Warm metal and wood. Macon breathed a sigh. With deft movements, he pulled the case out, slipping one of the cigars to his lips. Cigar propped in his lips, he lit it with a quick Cast.
He tipped his head back, letting it rest against the stone. Drawing a long drag from his cigar, he let his thoughts wander. Which half will it be? Exhaling slowly, he pondered. Which half should it be? He disagreed with the statement completely. Neither side was definably good or bad. Neither was condemned to death or life. Which will you let it be? Satisfied with the question, he allowed himself to answer. Ashes floated onto the back of his hand, although he barely noticed the burn. That was the real question, he supposed. He knew the child would be raised by either him or Delphine. Light or Dark. The child would most likely go to the one left without a spouse. If that thought was pursued, he would raise the child. However, he didn't know who would believe him to be a suitable father figure. They wouldn't tell the child until the night of, or perhaps not at all. He didn't agree necessarily, but he understood the mentality. He breathed a sigh. Half of the family. Light or Dark. He knew the drive behind the Darkness. He had experienced the power of the Light. Why did you leave? When the question became a coherent thought, he knew the answer. The child would make the Choice and choose Light. He reluctantly pulled the cigar away and stubbed it on the wall behind him. As he turned to enter the house, it hit him. Twenty years. He had twenty years until the end. He paused in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He had planned for nearly a century, known that as an Incubus, he was given at least that. As footsteps invaded his thoughts, he straightened, the familiar façade slipping firmly into place. "There you are, Macon." Delphine walked softly to him. "What happened?" He offered his arm to her.
"I needed to think." His half sister smiled gently.
"I suppose it was a bit stiff in there." She took a deep breath. "We haven't decided the verdict. In fact, we haven't done much but start small talk." She glanced at him. "What do you think?" "She'll choose the Light. Delphine, the child must. Our family, on both sides, is involved...very deeply. I'm afraid if she goes Dark, our Light will flounder. With two Naturals on their side and the Light greatly diminished..." He breathed a sigh. "One can only assume the worst."
Delphine stalled suddenly. "Macon...you won't survive." The addressed nodded.
"I know all too well, Delphine. However, even if I did, the Darkness would have its way with me sometime or another." Delphine paused briefly before she continued walking. "Barclay and I..." His sister laughed softly, although Macon didn't see the humor. "I'm pregnant, Macon. And as we believe it will be a Duchannes, we have to ask you to raise the baby. I don't think we could bare growing close to her, with the history in our family."
Her heart raced faster at the sentence. "Delphine, I-" She cut him off.
"You're the only one. I trust you, Macon." He nodded stiffly. A small smile tugged on Delphine's lips. "Thank you, Macon." Their walk continued in silence. Macon opened the door to the room just as quietly, and closed it softly behind him once Delphine was safely inside. Once again all eyes darted to him. He knew there was something different, a small spring in his gait, a flicker in his obsidian eyes. He slipped into his chair easily. With his arrival, the staring commenced. At each other, at their own hands, out windows. Pleading pitifully for an answer. The slightest reply to their obvious dilemma. Begging for a reaction.
Macon closed his eyes.