Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The place Regan had brought him to, however temporary it may be, was unlike any place Michael had been to. It was so airy and soft, with gentle scented candles, the smell immediately reminding him of the very faint memories of Judith’s room. A place of comfort during his childhood, even as the voices in his mind got worse and worse. In a way, this room with the two separate beds, the old television, the mini kitchen, and bathroom and the soft, gentle colored walls brought him some level of comfort. However, Regan looked visibly worried as she locked the door leading into the motel room and turned back to him, her vivid doe-brown eyes looking into his own “So, Michael, what do you want for dinner?” She asked quietly, folding her shaking hands in front of her.

“I….” Michael stammered out, the pains in his stomach reminding him that it had been quite some time since he ate. His stomach churned at the thought of the stale food that had been forced down his throat by Blankenship back at the estate or the cold, almost brittle food from Smith’s Grove. For someone to freely ask him what food he wanted blew him away unlike anything he felt before “Any soup is okay…” he finally settled, not wanting to overwhelm his stomach too much. He tilted his head in confusion “Are….is everything okay?”

Slumping down across from him, the worry on her face didn’t go away as she took a deep, steadying breath in a half-hearted attempt to calm herself to little avail “Michael….” Regan started calmly, shakily fiddling with her hands ever so slightly “This….this isn’t easy for me to say but….Charlie Bowles—he escaped, he got out of what is basically the equivalent of Smith’s Grove in Russellville….” She watched him carefully, curious of what his reaction would be.

If possible, the man looked completely devastated though he tried not to show it. His eyes were the key to his emotions though as he tried to take several deep breaths, and he looked down at his hands, his hands that had yet to heal “My fault?” Michael asked, trying to remain as calm as possible. Though on the inside, his heart was pulsating in a way that he never felt before and sweat was threatening to trickle down his forehead.

“No, in no way was this your fault,” Regan quickly reassured, carding her hand through her dark brown hair. She looked at him comfortingly, making sure to keep eye contact with him so he would see how genuine she was. Though, the doubt in his eyes was hard to miss “The police of Haddonfield and Russellville—they will stop him….”

Now the look in his eyes was like that of a child, wary and worried and yet hopeful as well. The memory of his nephew flashed through her mind and her heart tugged at the sheer unfairness of this all—so many adults had failed him. His lips moved once more, hesitantly this time, almost like he was afraid of being scolded “Promise?”

Looking at him deep in the eyes, she could feel…. something, something that she couldn’t quite identify that was drawing her close to his presence. She didn’t know if it was due to both of them going through something similar during their childhood with being prisoners in their own bodies (she couldn’t even imagine how it would be like being a prisoner in one’s body for nearly thirty years) or what it was “I promise that he will be caught…” Deep down, a part of her decided not to bring up what happened to the man back in Russellville. It would only heighten Michael’s guilt.

….Maybe later?....

It was only by sheer luck that she had packed homemade ingredients for chicken noodle soup along with other things. Warming up the soup in the microwave, she could see Michael gazing at the cartoons currently playing on the television with an almost childlike awe. Looking a bit harder, a very small grin was spreading across his face “Hey Michael,” she calmly called out, the smell of the soup filling the air “Are you up for meeting your nephew and niece tomorrow?”

His gaze snapped back to her in surprise, looking surprised and curious at the same time “They…. want to see me?” Michael blurted out, barely able to believe it as she handed him the soup.

“Only if you’re ready,” Regan reminded as she placed her soup back in the microwave to re-warm it. Above everything, soup was one of her comfort foods after what happened in Washington. Michael looked to be in deep thought as he swirled the soup around with his spoon, the thought of meeting his nephew and niece officially was both exciting and making his nerves run wild.

But he wanted to do it, wanted to meet the boy he had only seen in visions and the little girl who kept contact with him even after everything that had happened…

“I….” His lips twisted into a smile, a real genuine smile as his eyes sparkled with a pleading, innocent joy that could only be seen in children. In that moment though, he made up his mind of what he wanted to do “I’d like to meet them…”

Chapter Text

The day went by slowly, with clouds looming overhead and a day full of slowly learning how to cook small meals in the room’s kitchen with the limited supplies that the hotel had. While some would consider it a drag, finally being free to do what limited things he could do without….him constantly in his mind was like Michael had been given all the free ice cream in the world. Never had he felt so free before and he was cherishing every single second of it. With Regan’s gentle patience, Michael had also been reading and catching up with everything that had happened in the world since the Cold War in 1963.

Even though he had only been here for a few hours, Michael managed to write down his own schedule. It was the only way he could keep things in order in his mind. He would read in the mornings (both things recommended by Regan as well as his own choices) and have a small healthy lunch before meeting with Mr. Dent and Sheriff Meeker as well as other investigators.

“—will that be alright with them?” Regan gently inquired as she spoke on the phone, twiddling with the phone-line. Her soft, lovely face was pinched with worry and concern as she bit her lower lip and nodded hesitantly “Okay, we’ll see them then.” With that final assertion, she hung up the phone, looking faintly worried as she bustled around in the kitchen “Michael?”

“Yes?” One of his eyebrows raised as he looked up from his book, quietly observing her.

“Your nephew and niece are coming to visit this afternoon,” The revelation took him by surprise and made his mind spin. Deep within his mind’s eye, he could remember the little girl with dark hair and dark, solemn eyes who would always try to calm him through everything going on and the wary young boy who kept his distance from him, fiddling with his fingers (the same boy Wynn had tried to corrupt and make into a second Shape). At the same time, he couldn’t help but remember the little girl from before, during his childhood, the little girl with the purple dress, dark curls (before her hair lightened but even after that, he still recognized Cynthia as she sang on the sidewalk), and the stuffed lamb who had a worried look on her round, innocent face.

Before that worry from her childhood turned into the hatred of adulthood for everything he (and Wynn) had done to her and her friends….

They were his baby sister’s children, his nephew and niece, the last members of his family alive. For all he knew, this could be the last chance he could have to truly connect with the last members of his family, to have a normal, healthy connection with them….

“Are you okay with that?” Regan’s question broke through his line of though, she was furrowing her eyebrows. It was almost like she could see right through him if she really tried and the mere thought of that unnerved him in a way he had never felt before.

“What if I mess this up?” Michael couldn’t help but blurt out, fiddling with his hands nervously. A habit he had developed ever since he was freed. He couldn’t help himself—the mere thought of distancing himself further from his nephew and niece scared him in a way he had never thought before.

He didn’t want that.

He wanted to meet them, to be able to connect with them and mend their relationship (especially with John, the sweet little boy who had looked so much like himself as he swung on that swing-set) and to be able to meet them officially for the first time. He didn’t want any supernatural elements, even if the bond between them played a big role in everything, he just wanted to meet them face-to-face and heart-to-heart for the first time.

“You won’t,” Her soothing voice did only so much to calm the raging storm of emotions within his heart. She began to cook them some form of an early lunch-late dinner in the kitchen, looking back at him. The confidence in her eyes took him by surprise (he wished he had that much confidence) but at the same time, it soothed the storm in his heart “I know you won’t, Michael. They did everything they could to save you, you won’t mess this up.”

The moment that his eyes landed on his tiny nephew and niece for the true first time was like something he had never felt before. Both of them were still in their costumes, behind them were two older man (one looked like he was from the noir Batman books with a trenchcoat), a younger man who looked like he could’ve been the grizzled man’s son with a uniform similar to Sheriff Meeker’s, and the Carruthers girl who had bandages around her and looked slightly better.

“I…..” His chest felt heavy, a strange kind of heavy, as his eyes felt strange as he stumbled clumsily towards his nephew and niece, his legs felt nothing short of stiff as emotions he couldn’t quite identify. His lips trembled from the sheer force of the emotions “…..Jamie….Johnathan…..”

While his niece’s face lit up like a beacon and she ran towards him, her arms held out as she hugged him (the hug also taking him by surprise but making warmer feelings spread across his body), his nephew timidly stood by the Carruthers girl, gazing up at him with a conflicted, lost look on his young, face. The wary look in his eyes tugged at his heart in a way that Michael had never felt before and the knowledge that he put that look on his nephew’s face for two whole years only made that knowledge weigh even harder.

“Johnathan….” He breathed out softly, turning to face his nephew. His nephew who had grown so much in the past two years (he could still remember the twinge of something painful inside of him when he caught sight of his nephew swinging on that swingset) and the horror he felt when realizing what Wynn had in mind. The same look on his little sister’s face was now on his nephew’s face, they looked alike in that way “I…..I’m so sorry….”

Gazing back up at the Carruthers girl one more time, his nephew surprised him when running towards him and hesitantly taking him into a hug. Much like his sister before him, Johnathan also buried his face into his neck and clung onto him tighter. His nephew and niece, they both felt so tiny in his arms….

And yet, their hugs meant everything in the world to him.

Chapter Text

Once the hotel door slowly opened and Regan’s face peered out at them, a relieved smile overtook her gentle features as she stepped to the side. The hotel room itself was rather small but with an airy, calming feel to it. Though the sight before him made him pause in his tracks as a grin broke across Jamie’s face at the sight—

“Uncle….” Jamie squeaked in delight, running towards him and allowing him to envelop her in a hug akin to how their parents would hug them. But Johnathan only stood by his big sister, staring at the sight before him with a blank look. Deep down inside him, he really didn’t know how to react.

Seeing his uncle like this—unmasked, in something that looked like autumn pajamas, and not in his usual suit—managed to send waves of such confusion throughout Johnathan in a way that a math test never really could. Even though the nightmares of two years ago filled his mind up until this moment, his uncle’s appearance always remained consistent. He looked more….well, human, now than he ever did in that mask and suit that were just as much of a prison as the Cult was.

Those eyes blinked over to him, bright and filled with emotion, and his mouth started to shake, almost like he was having trouble keeping it together after so long. In that moment, the memory of their first meeting—back on his swingset before everything happened—filled his mind “Johnathan…. I’m so sorry….” His uncle’s voice wheezed out, not as weak as before but still better than it was after the ritual. There was so much sorrow and desperation in his voice, unlike Johnathan had ever heard before.

Seeing his uncle now, nearly on the verge of tears while cradling Jamie, the fear that had laid dormant within him, the fear of his uncle relapsing and triggering him, started to fade. None of what happened the past two years was his fault; it was more of…that man’s doing than anything. Slowly looking up at Rachel, he could sense the pity and sadness coming from her as she fiddled with her hands—

Oh my….

Meeting his gaze with her sharp blue gaze, Rachel slowly nodded in gentle, never-ending courage and squeezed his shoulder It’s okay, Johnny Her voice echoed deep within his mind, the calm to the raging storm deep within Johnathan ….I’m here…

With her gentle encouragement, Johnathan broke away from the group and ran towards his uncle, hugging him just as hard as Jamie did moments before. His uncle’s chest heaved suddenly as his arms slowly wrapped around Johnathan as he buried his face in his neck, trembling as he brought him closer. With that simple action, Johnathan also buried his face deep within his neck.

The two men that had come with his nephew and niece looked as different as night and day. The older of the two wore a yellow trenchcoat, reminding him deeply of some noir characters in books he’d read (though their names escaped him). Though Regan informed that the older looked like a doctor, the fact that he wasn’t dressed like one similar from those in the Cult (white robes, unfeeling white masks) brought a great comfort to him. The other man looked a few years younger than the first, but had the look of someone far older than his age; he looked grizzled and like he lived through war and back.

Both their expressions turned wary as Regan forced a smile on her face, a fake smile that thankfully didn’t remind Michael of him but worried him a great deal “Michael, this is former Sheriff Brackett and your psychiatrist, Dr. Loomis….” She trailed off, looking at him calmly but yet looked as if she were ready to run interference if necessary.

Names. He finally had names to the two faces, one of which he had seen more than the other. Stroking his chin deep in thought, Michael could see his nephew and niece from the corner of his eye, talking to the Carruthers girl “….You look….familiar…..” The grizzled man did indeed look familiar and for some reason, brought up some semblance of a memory—a memory of a girl with his sister with short, curly dark hair and wearing soft yellow.

“I’d suspect as much, Michael,” The doctor—Loomis—responded calmly, leaning back in his seat as he stared at him intently “I’ve been with you since the beginning of your admittance into Smith’s Grove…” his voice cracked as he took several deep, steadying breaths, almost as though he were trying to control himself “And yet, I’ve failed you in more ways than one….”

The younger man, his former patient, stared at him in blank, distant confusion, almost as though his mind were trying to catch up with what Sam had said. Leaning forward, Sam folded his hands together and went through how he would go about this in his mind “Michael, words cannot express enough how sorry I am for failing to protect you from….him.” His words were soft, gentle, and yet genuine. Michael was entranced by the very words, the men in the robes had never apologized even once for hurting him in the way he did “It was my responsibility to look after you and yet, someone I thought was a friend went behind my back to abuse you in ways I couldn’t even imagine. And for that, I am truly, deeply sorry…”

Something else popped into his mind, something that made him grip both the doctor’s hand and the sheriff’s hand at the same time. The words to properly explain filled his mind and yet, he didn’t know how to express them properly. Memories of the jars of fetuses filled his mind as the grizzled man’s face seemed to calm down ever so slightly—

“Say the word, Myers…”

“The parents…. of the Carruthers girl and others, will they be…” Michael paused to take a sip of his cold water, hoping to soothe his ragged throat. A disgusted look filled his features the longer he thought about it, what…. they wanted to do to unwilling girls just to bring new evil into the world “Told? Told of what….” The former sheriff seemed to understand what he was silently asking and nodded sharply “They will be informed, Mr. Myers….”

“Mr…. Sheriff, I….he…..” Michael stammered out, unable to explain what evil plans that Wynn had for the girl with the short, dark curly hair and wearing yellow that had a connection to the former Sheriff. Both the girl wearing yellow and the other girl with long, light blonde hair (not his little sister). He looked down at his scarred hands, remembering what Regan said when properly expressing himself “Your daughter….”

For the first time since they entered, Regan saw the grizzled face of the former Sheriff soften ever so slightly. It was almost as though he could see the younger man’s plight and his fear of explaining Wynn’s plans to them “It’s okay, Mr. Myers,” Leigh reassured softly, in a tone normally reserved for children “We already know….”