Me and My Shadow
Michael sat alone in his living room, watching the newest episode of "The Immortal and the Restless"; Vlad was up to his usual shenanigans and Clara was giving some new bit of evidence to prove that the baby was indeed Vlad's.
It was pretty intense.
Suddenly, Michael felt the seat next to him on the couch dip down with added weight. A voice Michael hadn't heard in years spoke to him then.
"Is this show any good?" Michael sighed.
"You know, I was really hoping you weren't real and everything that happened all those years ago was just some weird mix of a fever dream and desperate coping mechanisms." They snorted. Michael turned to look at his new "guest".
Satan. Or "Satan", since they said that they weren't actually the Devil.
"So, if you're not Satan, then what's your name? What do I call you?" Their expression turned mocking.
"You're only just now asking that? Shouldn't you have asked me back then?"
"I had other things on my mind back then. Like "Oh my God. I have summoned the Devil. I am going to hell. Why doesn't my dad love me?" You know, all that stuff." Michael shot back dryly, sending Not-Satan into a fit of giggles.
"I'll tell you what," they said between laughter, "I'll just go by whatever name you want to give me." Michael could feel a headache beginning to come on.
"Do you not have a name?"
"No, I have a name."
"Then why can't you just tell it to me?"
"Because names have power, Michael Afton." They had a knowing expression on their face, as if what they were saying was some kind of ancient and mystical knowledge. Which, it probably was, but Michael just wanted to get back to things being as normal as possible and so he just didn't really care.
"I'm going to call you "Secrets McGee" if you don't stop being all weird and mystical." Michael pondered for a bit, "Or maybe just "Steve". What do you think?" Not-Satan was playfully unamused.
"Try again."
Michael sighed and began to genuinely think of another name for Not-Satan. He sifted through a mental list of names of people he already knew and tried to match one that closest fit the entity casually sitting next to him.
"How about Aiden?" They seemed to mull it over, testing it out a few times, before finally approving.
"Aiden, it is. Or I am." They turned their attention back to the television. Clara had just set Vlad's house on fire. "Maybe I should get into this show."
"So," Michael began, "Why are you here? Come to try to get my soul again?" Aiden shook their head.
"No. I just wanted to see how you were, maybe talk a bit." Michael didn't fully believe them; they were hiding something.
"What did you want to talk about?"
"Are you happy?" Now there was a loaded question.
"Sure, I guess." He lied, like a liar. Aiden wasn't impressed.
"You know, if you're going to lie, at least make it convincing." Aiden turned fully towards Michael now. "Seriously, be honest: are you happy?" Michael couldn't look at them. He kept his eyes trained on the television despite not really paying attention to what was going on.
"I haven't been happy in a long, long time. Not since I…Not since Evan died."
"Have you ever…tried to change that?"
"No." He was being honest, "And I don't think that I want to."
"So, you want to be unhappy?" Aiden asked, disbelieving.
"It's not that I want to be unhappy. I just…I just have to make things right before I can actually do that." Aiden's face became grim.
"What are you even doing, Michael?" There was a hint of frustration in their voice. Michael laughed humorlessly.
"Right now, or just in general?" Aiden scowled, clearly not finding his remark funny. Michael didn't either. "I'm…right now, I'm trying to help Elizabeth. She…she died, a long time ago, but her soul is stuck. I'm trying to set her free." He paused, mulling over his next words, "But, over the past few years, I've found out some things. About Dad. I didn't want to believe them, not at first. But there's just too much for me to be able to look away and pretend I didn't see anything. And, honestly, even then I still wouldn't want to." Michael leaned his head against the back of the couch, looking up without seeing. "Something terrible is going to happen to me, isn't it?"
Aiden didn't answer, yet the silence was all the answer Michael needed. Michael reached up and tangled his hands through his hair. He would cry if he was still able.
"God-fucking-dammit…" Aiden leaned towards him then, placing a hand on his knee; trying to ground him and pull him out from the spiral Michael was beginning to fall into.
"Michael, listen," their voice was urgent, "You can still back out. You don't have to go back-" Michael cut them off.
"So, it's going to happen soon, then? Fantastic!" Sarcasm dripped from his words as Michael slid his hands down to cover his face then, wanting to just block everything out. Wanting to just disappear.
"You're not listening, you can still back out!" Aiden was desperately trying to get Michael to hear them, really hear them. The thing was, Michael heard them loud and clear. It didn't change anything, though.
"No, I can't!" Michael began to raise his voice. "I owe it to them, Aiden! To Lizzie, to Evan, to all the fucking kids that my fucking father butchered! I can't turn my back on that!" He was off of the couch now. He didn't know what he wanted to do, but he just couldn't keep sitting down. Aiden stood with him.
"Michael, please…" Michael couldn't take it anymore.
"Just leave. Please just leave." He was tired. He was so, very tired.
It was quiet after a moment, the lack of response causing Michael to turn where Aiden had been standing.
They left, just like he asked.
Michael ran his hand through his hair again. It was all just too much.
He stood, silently, in his living room for a while. He looked around without really taking anything in, his mind was miles away.
He just wanted to forget.
Finally, he moved from his spot in the living room to go to bed. He didn't bother changing out of his clothes, collapsing onto his bed in an emotionally exhausted heap. Closing his eyes, he somehow forced his racing thoughts to stop. Little miracles.
Maybe he would have good dreams tonight.
