Alright! Even though I procrastinated on looking this chapter over until the very last second, we are finally here! If you have the time, go check out my lovely beta venfx on AO3 for saving me from editing hell.

Also, important note: At some point, there is the line:
Is this a date?
which is not followed up. At this point it depends on the reader whether they do wish it to be a date or not, because it can be read either way.

And that's all! Happy reading!

-

Michael scares the crap out of you by popping straight out of your closet

"Jesus Christ–"

His shoulders hitch with discordant laughter as you press a hand against your racing heart, waiting out the pump of adrenaline in your veins. You give him the dirtiest glare you can manage, swatting at the hand that tries to rest on your shoulder.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry. The way you jump is awfully amusing, though."

"What do you want, Michael?" You grumble, pointedly ignoring the way his body seems to unfold, uncannily similar to the way origami unfolds, as he climbs out of the closet. You move past him to your nightstand, where your phone is kept. 

"I want to cash in that favor."

You freeze. Slowly, you turn to face Michael. Your voice is purposefully light as you say, "Yeah?"

He gives you a bemused look, knowing full well that he's sent your mind into overdrive. "Yes. I'd like your company for the entirety of today, with no questions asked."

What.

"...And what are we doing?"

Michael wags a disapproving finger, the air around it moving like syrupy honey, "That's a question, dear (F/n)."

Your mouth pulls down into a displeased frown. "You won't even give me a clue?"

Michael laughs again, "That would ruin the surprise of it! I do suggest you get ready in comfortable clothes, because we will be outside for most of today."

-

You stare at the gates of an amusement park, caught somewhere between bewilderment and hysteria. Funnily enough, the first thought in your head is the unasked question of Is this a date?

...It's probably not a date. Probably. Right?

"Well?"

You look at the tall blonde impossibility standing beside you. "It's an amusement park."

"Yes. Have you ever been?"

"Yes? I don't–" You look in the direction of the park, then back at Michael, "Why are we here?"

Michael's fingers twist like curly fries, knotting together into a tangled mess, a pantomime of hand-wringing. "Do you wish to go elsewhere? I just assumed that everyone likes amusement parks."

"No, that's not–" you make a frustrated noise in the back of your throat, "This is fine but I don't– why are we here? Are we here to hunt something down? Someone we're looking for? What are we doing here?"

Michael cocks his head to the side and it strikes you like a lightning moment of clarity, he looks nervous. "I wanted to keep your company today? Is this not a place where people go to enjoy their time?"

"I–" the rare moments you get to speak and only ever around Michael and your words decide to fail you. To be fair, what is there to say? Michael brought you here to... spend time with you? Just for the sake of it? Why? "I guess this is as good a place as any. Do you– you just wanna... go in? Like– just– do rides and stuff and roam around?"

Michael's eyes narrow. "One way to put it."

"Right. Right! Okay, um..."

And that was that, apparently. There was no way you were having Michael interacting with anyone if you could help it. You already didn't know how people weren't freaking out seeing his bendy form standing casually beside you, with his huge-ass knife hands and the eye-searing colors that clung to him like smoke. No one had even given you a second glance, people busier with talking to their families and companions, pointing and waiting for the tickets that would let them into the park.

With stern instruction to stay put right where he was, you go ahead and join the ticket line. It's a bit long, and you're praying Michael doesn't wander off during that time, but you've gotta have good luck somewhere, right? You ask for two tickets and come back to see Michael has indeed followed your instructions, except now he has a cloud of candy floss in one hand, fingers plucking up pieces of fluff to chew on.

"Where did you get that?"

Michael smiles guilelessly and does not answer.

"Did you know that the Spiral particularly thrives in amusement parks? I rather think it's lovely how humans carve out little niches of terror just for us."

"Makes sense, I guess." The two of you join the line going into the park. The mother after you gives Michael a single weirded out glance, but seems to be busy trying to keep her two children from running off to bother with much else. "We don't do it on purpose, though."

"There is no purpose to fear. It is as much a part of you as anything else."

"What's that mean?"

Michael waves a hand at the park, "This place is made for simple pleasures, cheap thrills and smiles. Hardly the stuff of terror, and yet still it courts it."

"'Course it does. Mistakes happen. And, again, it's not made only for fear."

He smiles, pointed and sharp. "And yet fear makes it its own."

The whole conversation feels like you've just walked in a circle and you still don't understand the point Michael is trying to make. Thankfully, reaching the front of the line means an excuse to drop it, so you do. You both get a paper bracelet at your entry, and come to stand at the entrance of the park. 

You're not quite sure what exactly you're doing here, and if this whole trip is really as simple as Michael says it is. Michael seems to peer around and says, "What first?"

And you end up pointing at the first attraction you see. As your luck would have it, the large bubbly letters hanging overhead the entrance boast it to be the mirror maze, which sure ought to be fun with confusion incarnate besides you. 

It's too late to take it back now, when Michael grins, sharp and phonetic. "Lead the way."

-

Both of you get lost in the mirror maze for the better part of an hour. For all his jaunty claims and the way the Distortion likes to show off, Michael gets turned around faster than you do. Which is bad, because his mere presence is making the place harder to navigate, and you'd kinda thought he'd have his fun with you for a while before leading you out.

But no. You're both lost.

"Michael how do you not know the way?!"

"To be fair," Michael peers into a mirror, making a face when it waves back at him, "mirrors are not my jurisdiction. And the part of the Spiral whose jurisdiction they actually are, does not like me."

You squint in a mirror at the figure that looks to be standing in the far distance. The surface is solid when you tap it, which further confirms that this isn't an exit but...

"Who is that?"

Michael looks at where you're pointing and hisses, "My mortal enemy."

So yes. You lose an hour in the mirror maze because Michael and his mirror coworker do not get along.

You guys go for the more open rides next, which turn out to be only slightly bad ideas and only for you. Just being around Michael has the kind of belated vertigo that one might experience looking down the edge of a cliff, but on a rollercoaster? Hooo boy, thank the good gods that you're never been afraid of them. Because the vertigo is worse, but it does somehow make the ride better? Or at least, you feel pumped after riding it, already tugging Michael to the next one.

Michael grins, and lets himself be pulled along. 

Michael makes most of the rides a real doozy, even the family friendly ones. The tea cups that looked like a bore are anything but, the spinning lights only highlight the bubbling cocktail of adrenaline and endorphins in your veins. 

Every single drop, every single twist, duck and spin steals the breath from your lungs and you can't believe it feels this good, like being doped on a breathless, reckless, adventure. Michael is right there with you, and, after the initial doubts, it's a treat to have him here with you, time you don't usually get to spend with a friend.

You play the silly stall games that are most definitely rigged. Your secret weapon is of course Michael, who is also most definitely rigged. He wins the cup-ball game and hands you a key-chain, you win a shooting game and hand him a little plush. You get yourself some cotton candy, which Michael turns a shifting rainbow when he plucks a bit from your stick. 

It's a good day. You have a good time.

"I don't think I've ever had so much fun at an amusement park."

Michael smiles from his place besides you on the wooden bench, "The Spiral has never cared to use itself for anything but creating terror, but I suppose Michael's human mind can convince it to be some fun every once in a while."

You laugh. "Cheers to that."

You're finally coming down from the high you've been on for the entirety of today. You can feel exhaustion catching up with you, little by little, as the adrenaline burns away. You just hope you can make it home before it arrives. 

You weren't lying to Michael when you said you had a really good time today. It's just– the thought was easier to ignore when you were still in the high of thrill of simply getting to be, but–

"Why did you spend your favor like this?"

"Hmm?"

"I–" You fiddle with the key ring, a plastic encased picture of the highest roller coaster they have here with the name of the park printed in front of it. "I'm not complaining. I had a great time today, just- you didn't have to call in your favor? For this? You could have just asked."

Michael stays quiet for a moment, "I did not think you would trust my intentions unless I spent your favor."

You sigh, "You think so?"

"Yes. But– I will admit, it is a little more complicated than that."

"How so?"

Michael goes silent then, unwilling to answer. You drag your eyes back to his still form, looking like he's trying to build himself up enough to tell you.

"I fear I am going to do something that you will not forgive me for."

You sit up a little straighter. "Do what?"

"I do not think it is wise to say."

Stronger: "Do what Michael?"

Michael bristles at your forceful tone but you cannot help it, he's starting to scare you. "You know of my grudge against the Archivist, which I think I've made plenty clear. It is something that Michael holds onto more strongly than even his own perceived humanity, and it is all I had left when she abandoned me to the Spiral's hallways.

"I finally have a chance now, and I will take my revenge and kill the Archivist."

You suck in a sharp breath, "Michael–"

"You will not stop me." He says sharply, "Nor can you change my mind. My decision had been made long before I met you, and all I can do is ask that you forgive me someday."

"Michael, you can't–" your voice is gutted, low and pleading as panic stabs sharply at your chest, "–don't. Jon isn't worth–"

He stands up, and he had never more used his height to tower over you than in this moment, "You have always known of my nature as a monster, someone who feeds on the fear of others and you have forgiven me. Surely you can forgive once more."

"That's not it! Michael– if you go to kill Jon you won't come out of it alive!"

Michael brushes away your words without a thought, and all you can think is about how he doesn't understand. He smiles, sharp and sardonic, mocking, "Plentiful faith you have in someone you cannot exchange a single pleasant word with. The Archivist may hold power, but it is pitiful to the twisting deceit of my nature."

He doesn't let you get in a word edgewise– you can feel your throat closing up as your panic spikes, "Worry all you like, consider today one last gift from me. But I will not go back on my decision."

You blink and there is a door. You blink and you cannot speak. Michael is turned away from you, one hand on the handle to his door. He glances back one last time, expression looking slightly more sober than before and says, "I am sorry."

He leaves as quickly as he came.

-

You go home and you text Tim, asking him when he last heard from Jon. Martin gets the same text and so does Basira. Daisy would have too if you had her number. You spend a solid hour banging on your doors, wishing you had the words to call for Michael. 

You cast your mind back and try to remember how long the circus kept Jon. You desperately try to map out when he was taken, when he came back, how much time do you have to contact Michael? You're pretty sure it's been four weeks and some since you last saw Jon, three-ish weeks since Martin heard from him. You're pretty sure the Circus kept him for around a month, but you're not certain.

You don't know what to do.

-

There is a yellow door in your living room.

The setting sun highlights it in a beautiful orange, and you stare at it with wide, hopeful eyes. You try to call out to it with your words, but your voice is still hushed. Not being able to speak hits you harder in this moment than it has ever before, because you've always had your words when it's Michael.

The person who opens the door is anyone but him.

She is just as tall and just as skeletal, curved in all the wrong places and sharp at all the wrong edges. Her hands are as big as her torso, sharp like knives, and painted at the ends. Her smile is familiar and sharp, but it is not a smile you want to see on her face.

She is not Michael.

She stares at you from just within the doorway, curious and watching.

Your hands sign, Who are you?

"I think you already know, little Watcher."

Yes. You know. This is Helen the Distortion. You wished you didn't know.

The grief spikes, settles. The universe whispers I told you so.

You want to scream.

He's gone?

"Michael used to be. Helen is. Yes, he is gone, as much as he was left before."

You sit down on your couch.

You elbows come to brace on your knees, head lowered into your hands. The tears will come, you know, they will come. They're there somewhere, with the grief your mind is furiously repressing. You know you're in shock right now.

You lost him.

Five minutes are spent in silence. Just– breathing. Then you remember you are not alone, and you raise your head to look at Helen. Why are you here?

Helen is still looking at you, something like curiosity settled on her face. She reaches into the pockets of her pantsuit and pulls out a single tape. "I thought you might like one last memento."

You watch her place it on your coffee table. Helen has to bend to set it down, straightens and gives you one last look. "I shall leave you to grieve."

The door closes behind her with a soft click.

The tape sits on your coffee table, innocent and unwitting of its crimes.

Finally, the tears come.

-

I'm sorry.

I know a lot of you were rooting for Michael, and I know even more of you guys enjoyed the MC's friendship with him. Unfortunately, this was a plot point I had decided on from the start, and I just couldn't take it out. It's going to be important to the story later on, amongst other things.

It's funny how the friendship between the MC and Michael snuck up on me too, you know? It was one of those things that I hadn't planned for, but just felt right as the story progressed. It wasn't easy killing Michael but... well.

Thank you for reading.

Signed,

Your Captain, Lynda