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the entity that Was Not What It Was shuddered. it could not have true feelings, not in any way that a human could understand, but it knew pain and fear and suffering as well as any beast would, albeit in a more...abstract sense.
there was nothing abstract about this pain, and that was what made it terrifying.
the being that was not and could never be Michael was typically a perfectly capable agent of chaos and fear. it had hurt, to become Michael, to twist itself in and around and force itself into a being that Was and had always been. to slot itself among preformed thoughts and human emotions and become part of one who already was so much. but a simple human was nothing to the Distortion, and so Michael Shelley was no longer.
except if he wasn't, what was the throat of delusion doing?
the entity that was not Michael stalked around the archivist like a beast inspecting prey. he was bound, recently gagged, completely vulnerable to any sort of attack. perhaps an outright killing made too much sense in that moment. perhaps Michael wouldn't kill the archivist at all. perhaps...
the distortion shuddered.
human feelings itch. not in any way that should or would be called a real itch, but in the way madness would make one claw out their own bones if they felt it would satisfy the inescapable discomfort of the itching. currently, Michael Shelley was doing his best to bring about those horrible sensations. he wanted to talk.
and somewhere else, deep in the bowels of It Is Not What It Is, someone else wanted Michael dead.
Michael finished his exposition about becoming what he was and what he wasn't and what he had always been. the Archivist's hungry eyes drank it all in and for just a moment, the Distortion felt the pain of being Known. worse than that, Michael offered the Archivist a death less than the circus of I Do Not Know You. he could have been lying, of course, but too many messy human emotions were compromising Michael right now.
they looked almost comical in that moment, the Archivist and Michael. Michael was unravelling at the seams, a messy rorschach of hands and eyes and smiles with teeth. golden hair grew and stretched and coiled around and around in spiraling patterns, surrounding the Archivist from above. Michael was bright where the Archivist was dark and the more the Archivist tried to See, the more Michael unwound.
one of Michael's many mouths opened. "Archivist." the shorter man waited patiently for more knowledge or a killing blow. what he did not expect was: "what happened to the Bookburner?"
the Archivist reeled for a moment. he knew Michael's proclivities against names and wracked his fragile mind for anyone who fit that vague description. "Gerard Keay?" he attempted to clarify.
"that...is a name, yes," what Michael was doing could barely be considered speaking at this point, but it was heard anyway.
"i don't-i don't know." admitted the Archivist. Michael's unraveled edges grew sharp with manic laughter, and he hurried to continue, "we've been looking for him, he features in q-quite a few statements we'd like to follow up on but the most recent thing we could f-find was...him being aquitted for his mother's murder. a-after that it was like he...disappeared." Michael's laughter was making the Archivist's nose bleed.
after the laughter ended, Michael hummed disinterestedly. "you're of no further use to me then, Archivist. i think perhaps you should go now." the Archivist at least had the decency to be properly afraid, now.
the door stood where it always had been and could never be. the Archivist tried the handle.
"er...uh. its locked." said the Archivist, ever observant.
"its not." Michael countered, and the Distortion felt the edges of human panic. it was wonderful.
the Archivist turned on Michael, "why is it locked?"
"it can't be!" Michael shouted. this was getting too good. after years of being forced to be Michael the Distortion was ready. Michael had almost fully unraveled by this point, a technicolor wash of every color imaginable and unimaginable. an unknowable hand reached out to try and open the door.
and that was the moment that Michael opened.
---
Michael Shelley was taking a truly awful tumble.
he had always thought that dying would hurt less? or maybe more. his current situation had to be dying. but why did it feel like somersaulting?
why could he even think of any of this?
once the tumbling ended, he took a moment to get his bearings. long, familiar, unending hallways stretched out to his left and right. or was it up and down? forward and backward? it didn't matter. he felt...he felt.
something was truly and terribly wrong.
Michael Shelley stood slowly in the hallways that he used to know as a part of himself. all his aching joints screamed in protest at being used. they screamed in protest of existing at all.
in front of him, a mirror displayed his own face leering back at him. it had been so long since he had been able to see anything in a mirror besides that unknowable entity that warped and twisted his very sense of self.
he looked awful.
his blonde hair hung in limp and greasy ringlets around his face, longer than he had remembered it being. woven through the blonde were pastel colors in every mismatched color he could think of. he definitely hadn't ever dyed it that color, but if that was the only reminder of the entity that was not Michael, he supposed that was fine by him. he was wearing the last thing Michael Shelley had ever wore, a large overcoat with a long striped scarf and thick khaki pants. the combination of the heavy coat, dress shirt and heavy woolen sweater were making him overheat in the sickly warmth of the hallways. his face was sunken and his eyes were technicolor blue.
but he could make these observations about himself, and that was the most concerning thing.
he felt himself breathe, felt his heart beat, and knew he was somehow alive. trapped in and endless maze of corridors and mirrors, but still alive. he remembered being torn apart and opened and the pain and fear that had come along with it. then all of a sudden he was getting a nasty case of rug burn.
without really thinking about it, he found himself curled up against one of the infuriating walls. as much as his mind and body screamed for a long overdue panic attack, he knew fear would only draw whatever was controlling the corridors now closer to him. knowledge was anathema to what he was once a part of, so he would go over what he knew.
"my name is Michael Shelley." he started, voice rough with disuse. "i worked...i worked for the Magnus Institute. for Gertrude Robinson. i was..." he felt tears begin to well and tried his hardest to keep them at bay. "i was sacrificed. by Getrude Robinson. to an entity called the Spiral. i am alive. i survived." tears flowed freely down his cheeks, now. not tears of sadness at being betrayed, not tears of guilt for the many lives he had taken to get to this point, but tears of joy and relief at the idea that he had done it. he had come through the other side of that terrifying, winding road and lived. and he would perservere.
it is hard to say when sleep came to Michael Shelley. waking and dreaming were one in the same in that place. he would walk for a while through the twisting corridors and inviting doorways, then find himself somewhere else entirely.
Sannikov Land was the first. Gertrude wasn't present, but that new Archivist, Jon? he was always there. not speaking or encouraging, but always observing. Michael went through that door over and over and the only thing that changed was he would be in a different area when he had awakened enough to realize he had been dreaming. possibly sleepwalking, or maybe just existing in the terrible haze that place put him through.
the other dreams were either worse or better, but it was almost impossible to say which it was.
he sat comfortably on an old, rickety office chair, legs drawn up to press his knees reassuringly to his chest. he was flipping through the stack of statements Gertrude had requested his help in following up. most of them would be dead ends, but it prevented him from getting lost in the boredom of sorting files and fetching tea.
as he skimmed through, a small pamphlet fell gently onto the surface of his desk. he reached out to grab it and put it back in the file for now, but as he held it in his hands he couldn't help but wonder why it was there in the first place. it was short, only a few pages. it had no discernable title or place it would be advertising but something about it compelled him. he was about to open it, just to see what it was, when a frantic knock came at his office door. he dropped the pamphlet in surprise and called for the interloper to enter.
the door swung open quickly. on the other side was the most visually stunning person Michael had ever laid his eyes on. dressed in black from head to toe, dark, smudgy eyeliner clearly several days old, heavy-looking boots and dyed black hair with soft-looking ginger roots visible at the crown of his head. the stranger was beautiful and Michael found himself speechless.
luckily, the beautiful stranger didn't seem to have the same issue. "have you seen a file with a leaflet in it? i need it back and Gertude said she gave it to you."
Michael shook his temporarily useless head, trying to get his brain to function again. he had never been great with people, especially attractive strangers asking him urgent questions. "uh-uh yeah! actually the pamphlet is just here, it just fell right out. i'm not actually sure which statement it belonged to but uh, if you give me a moment i can flip through them and-"
"no! no, thats fine i just...i just need the pamphlet thank you." the stranger made it across Michael's pathetically small office in just a few strides and went to grab the pamphlet. Michael panicked, and put his hand over the other man's where it was.
"um, actually, i'm not so sure about you just taking it?" Michael cringed at himself, probably making an absolutely terrible first impression on this handsome guy who, by all accounts, was watching a man with one knee to his chest in a dingy office chair grab at him like a lunatic. "sorry, i just haven't seen you around? do you even work here?"
the man was too busy staring at Michael with a mix of mild fascination and budding annoyance on his face to be bothered with Michael's internal crisis. "sorry, yeah. kind of? i work with Gertrude but i'm sort of," he paused, considering his wording carefully, "freelance. i'm not actually around the institute proper much. my name's Gerard."
Michael prayed his face didn't show the current process of him going through every single stage of grief. of course this was Gerard. he'd heard enough about Gertrude's international travels to know at least a small amount of her young companion. he let go of the other man's hand like he had been burned, "oh! oh god i'm so sorry. i'm Michael. one of the archival assistants. Michael Shelley."
surprisingly, Gerard also backed off of the pamphlet and placed his hands in his pockets. a small grin took its place on his face. "i know who you are, Michael." he simply stated, and Michael had another moment of confusion before he continued, pointing to where he had come in from, "your name is on the door?"
Michael was going to have nightmares about how this conversation was going. "yes, of course, obviously. sorry." he didn't know exactly what he was apologizing for but Gerard was very handsome and it was making him very nervous. "you can um. take the pamphlet. not sure what use it is since i couldn't even tell what it was a pamphlet for-"
"you didn't read any of it, did you?" Gerard asked, mildly concerned.
"no, no, you showed up before i could get a look at it properly. w-what is it then?" Michael worried.
"a Leitner." Gerard stated simply. Michael made a disgusted noise and scooted his chair back from the desk, just a bit. Gerard chuckled. "if you didn't read it, you're fine. its kind of nasty though, so its good you didn't."
"what are you going to do with it then?" Michael poked at the offending paper with a pen from his desk. Gerard laughed and scooped it up off the wood surface.
"well probably unleash it on dozens of innocent people, maybe hundreds? haven't decided yet." Michael must have looked quite upset at that and it just made the other man laugh harder. "i'm kidding, Michael. i'm going to destroy it."
Michael breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn't just put an evil book into the hands of some sort of beautiful demon man. "i didn't realize that was something we could do."
"well, maybe not you," Gerard teased, "but i find that a little fire does wonders against most things."
"oh please say you're taking it somewhere else first. i asked Gertrude if i could have a scented candle in here and you'd think i ask if i could kick puppies with the way she looked at me." Michael poked gently at his essential oil diffuser.
"mm, i thought it smelled nicer in here than those dank hallways." Gerard, to Michael's surprise, sat directly on top of Michael's desk. "so, what do you say? up for a little arson, Michael Shelley?"
Michael always woke up from those dreams sobbing.
---
america sucked. if Jon never came to america again it would be far too soon. he wasn't dead yet, he supposed, but the situation wasn't exactly ideal.
meeting up with the hunters Julia and Trevor had been a genuine accident. at least that thing they had been hunting gave them enough sufficient answers to trust Jon slightly more than they might have initially, but he didn't want to press his luck on exactly how far that trust ran.
currently, he sat in a room with a disgusting book hoping for answers in any form they came in. supposedly there was someone in here that could help him. when he flipped to the page labeled Gerard Keay, his heart did a dangerous nosedive.
was it fate that anyone touched even slightly by these powers were destroyed? Gerard couldn't even rest in peace without being turned into some monster manual? Jon really had no room to talk since he needed answers, but his skin crawled at the idea of it.
he read the page aloud, and suddenly Gerard was there. it turns out he has the exact same thoughts about the situation.
"you want answers, you tear my page out, now. so i know you can't back out." Gerard supplied, sizing Jon up. as afraid as he was of the hunters, he was even more afraid of ignorance, and Gerard seemed to have all the answers he needed. he tore out the page.
turns out, Gerard did have most of the answers. or at least knew where to find them. he even gave Jon a statement, which felt like the perfect button on a years long search for this strange young man. Jon had always imagined him very different, mysterious and solitary and caked in heavy black and white makeup, but he just looked...young. too young, if he allowed himself to be sentimental about it all. he explained the fears and the entities that worked with them with a practiced ease, but he still had the snarky disposition of a young man. he conspicuously avoided Jon's mention of the spiral, and in that moment, Jon remembered what Michael had asked about before...before Helen took over.
"Gerard..." Jon started.
"Gerry." the apparition clarified.
"what?" Jon asked.
Gerard- Gerry sighed, almost wistfully. "always wanted my friends to call me Gerry." he smiled faintly, and in that moment Jon was hit with overwhelming grief for this stranger. they could have been friends, he thinks. especially in college. before the nightmares that befell them both. before fear and fighting and saving the world.
"okay Gerry." Jon replied softly, "have you ever known someone named Michael? he used to work at the Institute, around the same time you did..." he trailed off because Gerry's face was doing something odd. like he had just simultaneously sucked on a lemon and been told his childhood pet died.
"yeah. yeah, i knew him." Gerry said quietly. "you met it then?"
"the Distortion. yeah." Jon watched the other man's face contort, "it asked about you?"
Gerry did a double take, grief and longing warring on his face with rage. "and what did it say?"
"it asked me what happened to the Book Burner. does that mean anything to you?" Jon asked. he wasn't sure if ghosts could cry, but Gerry seemed adamant in not finding out.
"i think i'd like to go now, Jon. please burn my page when you get back to england." Gerry turned away.
Jon felt terrible. he didn't have any desire to push the issue, not really, but he continued, "its gone now, Gerry. there's...someone different took over."
Gerry didn't look back at him, one second he was there and then as if he never had been there at all, he was gone. there was a gentle smell of hospital cleaning products in the room.
---
the dead cannot dream.
"you should call me Gerry." the man's words puffed out with his breath into the crisp winter air. Michael was transfixed on the way his features danced gently in the light of the fire.
Michael smiled at him, "okay, Gerry." he looked back at the scene in front of him, a small fire dancing in a metal wastebasket containing the remains of that cursed pamphlet. "so this is what you do, then? find the books and just...get rid of them? you have no interest in them at all?"
Gerry stared hard at the fire as it began to die, "nothing worth being interested in, really. i've seen the effects of them enough to know nothing good comes of being interested. so yeah, i guess just call me Gerry Keay, Book Burner extraordinaire." at this, he smiled playfully at Michael, whose heart did a little flip in his chest.
Michael knew, logically, that getting involved with a coworker in any sort of way was inadvisable, but the way Gerry's features seemed to glow as he smiled in the dying fire light melted its way into Michael's bones making him feel warm from the inside out.
there was no way Gerry would feel the same, anyway. what's the harm in a little workplace crush?
the dead cannot dream, but Michael Shelley was not dead.
"this is stupid," Gerry declared suddenly from behind the stack of files, "if she wanted anything to be found in this archive, maybe she should have a better organization system."
Michael hummed in thought. "i think that's technically my responsibility. usually i can find anything i need, but i must have misplaced this one..." he trailed off with a nervous laugh, "organized chaos." he gave Gerry a slightly pained smile.
Gerry barked a laugh and slid down to sit against one of the shelves. Michael tentatively sat across from him against an adjacent one. Gerry was bad for his focus, if he was being honest. his carefree attitude in regards to Michael's work was rubbing off on him. Gerry scratched lightly at his arm underneath his coat.
"maybe this was all a ruse," Michael prodded, "finding an imaginary file to keep you from getting into trouble again." Gerry had shown up at the Institute a month ago with burn scars covering a good deal of his body. they were healing marvelously, much faster than Michael had assumed such scars should.
"oh, please." Gerry shot him a look, "they're really not all that bad. mostly just itchy, now. takes a bit more than some flame to hurt me," he unfolded his legs from in front of him, only to sit on top of them instead. he knelt conspiratorially in front of Michael, "plus, there's much easier ways to keep me around, you know."
Michael blushed furiously, he could feel it creeping up his neck. Gerry, put simply, was a bit of a flirt. he had watched Gerry charm his way into several establishments to find whatever cursed book he was on the hunt for, so Michael typically took it with a grain of salt. here, hidden among stacks and shelves felt a bit more intimate than a quick wink to a hostess or bouncer, though. no audience to be impressed by Gerry's charisma but Michael. and by god, was Michael easily impressed by Gerry.
"well, a more straightforward option is welcome. i do worry about you, you know." Michael huffed in mock indignation. he knew what Gerry did was important. they had long since had the talk about the powers that influenced the world around them and what Gerry did to combat them with Gertrude. knowing his work was important did little to prevent the anxiety that crept through him at the thought of Gerry being out there with them.
"i know," Gerry was very close, now, and clasped his hand over one of Michael's. "that's why you're worth sticking around for."
Michael felt the blush finally find its way to his face. they were so, so close. he could see a light dusting of freckles underneath smudged eyeliner, "Gerry-"
"its okay. if you don't want-" Gerry started, but was unable to finish his thought.
Michael did perhaps the boldest thing he had ever done. he grabbed the other man's head gently and pressed their lips together. he felt Gerry sigh with relief and crawl closer to him. he was almost in Michael's lap now, something that was a nebulous fact in the face of what they were doing. their lips moved together so, so gently. he may or may not have made a horribly pathetic sound when they parted.
"yeah," Gerry said, breathlessly, "definitely worth sticking around for." and kissed him again.
Michael was alive, but sometimes he wished he was dead, so he could not dream. his tears had begun to burn, leaving technicolor tear stains in their wake. his face was permanantly blotchy and swollen from crying at this point.
"i don't like it, Michael." Gerry said for the hundredth time, body wrapped gently around Michael's much taller frame. "why would she take you instead of me? she's planning something, i know it."
Michael found it hard to worry about much of anything at all, at the moment. they were in his flat, wrapped in each others arms. Michael was still floating in a fuzzy, gentle headspace. he hummed noncommittally.
Gerry propped himself up on his elbow in between Michael's torso and arm. "i'm serious. this can't be anything good. she won't even tell me where you two are going!"
"i told you, love. russia, remember?" Michael threaded his fingers through his boyfriend's hair. "i promise to be safe. i can handle myself too, you know."
"i know, i know," Gerry, despite his worry, leaned cat-like into Michael's hand, pressing a gentle kiss to his palm. "i just know how these trips usually go. she gets in over her head. and she's not afraid of leaving things or people behind."
"well maybe that's just it, i'll be there in case she gets in over her head. and my return flight is already booked. i'll be back in a week." Michael promised.
"you'll call, if something goes wrong." not a question, exactly. Michael hummed gently. Gerry let his head fall against the skin of Michael's shoulder. "i need you back here, with me, in a week. okay?"
Michael placed a gentle kiss to the top of Gerry's head. "okay."
"i'm going to go get some water." Gerry announced, giving Michael a sweet kiss before getting up for the door.
a door that was certainly not that color before.
"Gerry, wait-" Michael lunged for him, but the door was already open, and he fell through. when he looked back, his boyfriend was no longer there and he had a map that made no sense in his hand. where gerry should have been, he felt the unblinking attention of the archivist.
"Jon, please, i just want..." Michael sobbed. as always, there was no response but the persistant feeling of being Watched. "he'll be waiting for me, please."
nothing changed, because the past was an unstoppable tragedy. he followed that unknowable map through corridors, smashing mirrors and losing all sense of who Michael Shelley was until he wasn't anymore.
the entity that was not Michael Shelley did look for the Book Burner, in the end. time was hard to keep track of, being what it was, but it had certainly been longer than a week by the time it was able to manifest anywhere close to where he might be.
Michael Shelley had broken his promise. and the entity Michael could barely bring itself to care, most of the time.
---
Jon stared at the page from the Catalogue of the Trapped Dead. he was probably going to die, in a few hours. he had to let Gerry rest in case anything happened. the thought of destroying his page and the knowledge that came with it hurt but it was the right thing to do. Jon fished for his lighter in his pockets. a door gently creaked open behind him.
"go away, Helen. i'm rather busy." Jon sighed, still unable to find the lighter.
"i know." Helen responded. "i think we could help each other, at the moment."
Jon looked back at her only to find her holding his lighter in one of her spindly hands, the etched web on full display. "i don't know why you keep this. i thought i heard you hated spiders." she smiled mischievously.
"Helen, please. i need to burn this page, he asked me to." Jon was embarassed to be basically begging Helen for anything, let alone this strange game of keep away.
"i know. i need him for a moment first, though." Helen supplied.
"Gerry? why? what could the Distortion possibly want with Gerard Keay? first Michael, now you. what. do. you. want?"
"the Distortion doesn't care about Gerard Keay." Helen explained, "but i have this. irritant. in the hallways i think he could do wonders to fix. its like a grain of sand in my eye. you can bring him in with you, if you like. i'll even give your lighter back."
"you can't just...get rid of it yourself? i am kind of on a deadline, here." Jon said, annoyed.
"not to worry, i'll make sure you're returned safely in no time at all. and i mean that quite literally." Helen winked conspiratorially.
Jon warred with his common sense and his need to know why Michael and Helen were so concerned with Gerry. before he even knew it, he was inside the door.
a hallway stretched before him, like always. the only difference was the figure crouched in the distance. Jon walked towards it cautiously.
without looking up, a lilting voice called out, "hello Jon. if you're real this time, i'm terribly sorry for trying to kill you." Jon froze in his tracks. he recognized that voice. "if this is another dream though, i'd really rather be left to stew in my misery alone. not that it matters to you, i suppose."
Jon cleared his throat, "ehm, sorry?"
the other man suddenly flew back several feet as if struck, "oh good god!" long limbs splayed everywhere, as did curly blonde hair. long strands of gentle pastels wove throughout the curls. his face was sunken and puffy from crying, and where tears had obviously fell there were brightly colored scars in the form of streaks down his face. he wore only a button down dress shirt and thick khaki pants with mismatched purple and pink socks.
this must be Michael Shelley, Gertrude's old assistant. but if he was, how long had he been trapped in here? how was he still alive?
"sorry, i really didn't think you'd be...well it doesn't matter. i am truly sorry for trying to kill you though. or that the thing that took me did? its all very fuzzy..." he trailed off, seemingly trying to remember what had happened.
"i-its alright." Jon knelt down near the startled man. "Michael, right? Michael Shelley?"
Michael let out an anguished sound, "ohh, i'm pretty sure. its hard to be sure of anything, really. this could still be a dream i suppose."
Jon reached out hesitantly and placed a hand on Michael's trembling shoulder, "its not, i promise. Helen sent me. she said i had something or...someone i guess, that you'd like to see."
Michael was staring at the hand making contact with his ratty shirt. when he finally registered what Jon had said, he placed his hands over his face in agony. "oh, Helen. i'm surprised she hasn't killed me yet."
"you don't make it very easy to find you," all of a sudden Helen appeared behind Michael.
"hWHOA my-" Michael jolted again, knocking into Jon and sending them both tumbling to the ground. it wasn't a painful fall, but the corridors made it hard to get reoriented for a moment. "Helen! oh my god i'm so-"
Helen just held up a hand. "not to worry, Predecessor. i've been what i am for a while now. i understand."
"still, i just-" Michael stared up at her. "I'm sorry, Helen. to whatever of you is left."
"quite a remarkable bit, actually!" Helen said, seemingly proud. "your transformation was...messy. Helen's was much more voluntary."
Michael really didn't know how to respond to that, but Helen didn't seem to need an answer. she continued on, "Jon, didn't you have something to show and tell?"
Michael looked at Jon, confused. Jon steeled himself and asked, "what did you want with Gerard Keay?"
Michael looked at Jon like he'd been struck. "you-did you find him? is he alright?"
Jon pressed his lips together tightly, "yes, i-i found him. but no, he's..." Jon didn't know why this was so terribly difficult. he held out Gerry's page to Michael. "he's dead, Michael. brain cancer." he finally pushed out.
Michael stared at the page like it was a knife Jon had just offered him. he cautiously reached out and took it. as his eyes scanned across the page, tears began flowing from his eyes, following the terrible scars of technicolor despair.
"this page," Jon continued, trying to prevent himself from feeling that overwhelming grief Michael was probably experiencing at the moment, "he's bound to it. if you read it, you can talk to him. but he asked me to destroy it. he wants to be set free."
Michael's grip on the page grew tighter as Jon spoke. at his final words, a horrible sob escaped Michael's throat. "can i-can i see him? just one more time?"
"sure, yeah." Jon was positive that Gerry would not be pleased with being summoned again, but maybe if Michael meant as much to Gerry as Gerry seemed to mean to Michael...it was worth the risk of a spectral shouting match. "just read it out loud, he'll be here."
Michael looked at the page and began to read, "h-his consciousness faded in and out like the tide. he tried-" a sharp sob, "he tried to refuse...i can't do this." Michael gasped.
Jon reached out for the page, "here," he moved a little further down the hall so Gerry would have a space to be in, and read the entry aloud. Michael was wracked with sobs hearing about his death, but suddenly...
"you stupid, pig-headed little man! we had a deal! of course, you're too far gone to care about that, aren't you?" Gerry Keay was screaming in Jon's face. a sharp gasp could be heard from behind the irate man, but he didn't seem to notice or care, too busy tearing into Jon.
"Gerry-" Jon tried.
"oh, hell no. i told you, i am not your damn encyclopedia! do you know? how much it hurts to be stuck here? of course you don't. but no, it doesn't matter to you, does it? as long as you get your precious answers, the ends justify the means. well i don't care, Jon. you're not getting anything else from me. you can-" Gerry's tirade was becoming more and more heated. Jon had to draw his attention to Michael somehow.
"Gerry, behind you!" Jon pleaded.
"oh, you thought you'd bring me out in the middle of a fight with some monster and it would change my mind? well i've got news for...you..." Gerry had whirled to address whatever he thought Jon had brought him here for but the only sight that greeted him was-
---
"Michael?" Gerry asked, softly.
Michael could do nothing but stare in wonder. Gerry stood before him, looking exactly like the day he had kissed him goodbye before Michael's fateful trip to Sannikov Land. his hair was pulled haphazardly into a long ponytail, bits of his natural ginger peeking out from anywhere it could find purchase. he wore tight jeans with rips all down the front and a band t-shirt with a logo that Michael had never had the ability to read. his burn scars were nothing but a gentle sheen and the tattoos that rested on his joints all seemed to stare at and into Michael.
"Gerry-" he tried to speak, but words were escaping him in that moment.
Gerry's form flashed a moment before reappearing, kneeling in front of Michael's sprawling form. "oh my-Michael! what happened? i looked for you for ages and Gertrude would never tell me where you were or what had happened, i told you! i told you it was a bad idea and you-"
"you're beautiful." Michael stated. it was all he could say.
Gerry attempted to place a hand on Michael's face. surprisingly, it worked. his form was freezing, but Michael couldn't bring himself to care. he brought his own hand up to cover Gerry's cold one.
"you stupid-i can't believe-" Gerry was making a real attempt to be upset, but tears were beginning to fall. "god, where were you?"
"i was the Distortion, for a while." Michael explained. "or, the Distortion was me? still unclear on that specific topic. i looked for you, when i had enough of myself to. i guess by the time i could...you had already gone where i couldn't follow. i'm so sorry, love."
"god, don't-" Gerry pounded a fist against Michael's chest weakly. "don't you dare. this isn't your fault. don't make it out to be. if Gertrude wasn't dead already, i'd kill her myself."
Michael allowed a moment of manic laughter to overtake him. "god i thought i'd never see you again."
Gerry stared at him lovingly, tracing his tear-scarred eyes with his cold fingertips, gently picking through multicolored hair, "me neither."
Michael sobered himself, "you don't have to stay. not for me. i know how awful this all must be for you."
Gerry froze his wandering hands. "Michael, you are my reason to stick around. i can deal with the pain if it means seeing you again."
Michael grabbed the back of Gerry's neck gently, pulling him closer. "you were mine, too. but it would be selfish to make you stay. the longer you're here, the more i want to be that selfish. let me be here for you, at least, please."
Gerry's resolve wavered. the pain must have been something truly awful, indeed. "it won't be pretty, i don't want your last memory of me to be like that."
"let me decide. i couldn't be there for you the first time. please let me be here now." Michael begged.
Gerry kissed him. his lips were freezing and chapped and ghostly, but they were his. and that was all that truly mattered in that moment. when they broke apart, Jon cleared his throat gently.
"where would you like to do this, Gerry?" Jon asked.
"can you leave the corridors?" Gerry asked Michael.
Michael looked at Helen. "oh sure," she supplied, "but i think it'd be much more interesting if you did it here." and she winked. Michael didn't know what to make of that.
"here is fine," Gerry said, "i'm ready. i love you, Michael."
"i love you." Michael felt the tears start to flow down his face as he brought Gerry close to him in an embrace.
he heard the tell-tale sign of a lighter flicking and no matter how frigid his body became, he promised himself he would not let go. if the life was pulled out of him then and there he couldn't even find it in him to care. this was his last favor to Gerry, a final moment of connection and love.
"thank you," Gerry whispered to him, and he clung impossibly tighter.
the page went up in flame and smoke. as it did, Gerry's body grew warmer and warmer until it burned Michael where he touched it, but still he would not let go. tears were streaming down his face and dripping onto Gerry where they sizzled and became prismatic steam. Gerry pressed a final kiss to his lips and they were blissfully cold.
just when Michael thought he would die from the heat, Gerry went limp and cold in his arms.
Michael gently rearranged him to lay across his lap, holding his upper body against him. his tears continued to fall, leaving multichrome stains on Gerry's chest and neck.
"one last lie," he sobbed, "i w-wasn't ready."
---
Jon, stamping out a pile of smouldering ashes, made his way carefully over to Michael and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
Helen began laughing, and Jon turned to ask her, "what the hell?" but she was borderline hysterical. she raised a long finger to point at Gerry's lifeless body, and Jon was not happy with her mockery of the situation. "stop! if you can't take this seriously-"
"o-of course i can't! but why is he still here?" she doubled over in laughter.
as Jon attempted to process her words around what had just happened and Michael's shaking sobs, suddenly there was a deep gasp of air.
and Gerry shot up in Michael's arms.
he was grabbing frantically at anything he could reach, which was various parts of Michael. he coughed and spluttered as he tried to take in huge gasping lungfuls of air. Michael, to his credit, did not panic. he stared, mildly horrified, and placed a soothing hand on Gerry's back.
as the coughing fits died down, Gerry was able to get more manageable breaths. he pressed a shaking hand to his chest and simply said, "what the fuck?"
Helen's laughter could have shattered all the mirrors in every corridor. "i told you it would be more interesting in here! how delightful!" she exclaimed through heaving giggles.
Michael seemed too frightened to be hopeful just yet. "Gerry, are you-" he trailed off, unsure how to ask what needed to be asked.
Gerry finished his examination of his renewed heartbeat and cast his gaze at everyone else in the hallway. his eyes were frantic, darting from Jon to Helen before finally landing on Michael and giving him the widest grin anyone had ever managed, present company included.
"i'm alive, Michael." before the other man could respond, they were both on the floor.
Jon looked away, pointedly, from their tearful reunion, while Helen cooed.
"holy shit!" Gerry exclaimed, rocketing to a sitting position on top of Michael, "that was the worst! let's never die, okay, darling?" he directed this last part at the man underneath him.
"never." Michael promised, looking at Gerry like he was the moon and stars and everything that had ever mattered. and maybe to Michael, he was.
Gerry let Michael free from underneath him and the taller man helped him into a standing position, supported by Michael's towering frame.
Jon coughed lightly, "not that this isn't wonderful," he smiled at the two men, "but i was on my way to stop the Unknowing..."
Gerry whooped, loudly, "sounds great! i have like, a ton of energy to burn off. what's the plan?"
Michael spluttered a moment, "wait, love, aren't you at all concerned with what just happened? i mean-"
Helen interrupted, "its all quite simple, really. Gerard was marked by the Desolation when he was burned, and you can't exactly fight fire with fire. that, and you're technically in the domain of the Spiral, which sits in the domain of the Eye, currently, so there's really too much going on to keep track of. plus, you weren't in the page when it was burned, and the End already has so very much to keep tabs on." she rambled on, "additionally, we both still have some sway over this place, wouldn't you say, Michael?"
"'takes a bit more than some flame to hurt me'" Michael quoted from what felt like a lifetime ago. Gerry laughed out loud.
getting out of the corridors was remarkably easy. Helen had no desire to keep any of them. when they walked through into the room Jon had left, the tape recorder was still running. Gerry turned it off resolutely. Jon brought them to meet with the rest of the team.
everyone was, understandably, confused by the sudden appearance of two total strangers, and a bit more than suspicious. Tim and Martin recognized Michael from their time in the hallways, which he apologized profusely for while Gerry glared daggers at them, daring them to say anything about it. they did not. Jon walked them through the plan, which Gerry was wildly thrilled about.
"always knew that old bag had some wild tricks up her sleeve," Gerry nodded sagely, "but why set it off from the inside? isn't that way more dangerous than it needs to be? just arm the explosives to blow and do it from outside."
Jon thought for a moment, "how would we know when its started?"
"well they do have a calliope. those things can be heard from miles away." Gerry stated, matter-of-factly.
everyone looked around the room at each other, wondering why that hadn't occurred to them. a spider scurried quickly under the floor boards.
Gerry stopped Michael on their way out. "are you sure you want to come? just because i feel like i'm on every drug right now doesn't mean you have to throw yourself into danger too."
Michael laughed softly and tucked a piece of hair behind Gerry's ear. "i'm not letting you out of my sight for a good long while, yet. and i'm sure i could be helpful with some of the...reality bending weirdness of the Stranger."
Gerry beamed. "when this is over, we're selling that trashy bookstore and buying a proper house. not a flat, a house. and not leaving for days." he promised.
stopping the unknowing went off without a hitch.