"Back in Time" and "Our Past".

Chapter Fourteen

Back in Time's Past

Goddamn, what a day she had, and she was glad to be home. Just wanted to get into her favorite cami set which was given to her as a wedding present from Melinda, bless her. Thank God it wasn't something crotchless, or Kaleia would have KILLED her for giving her that in front of her grandparents and new in-laws.

She had been busy helping with a few childbirths, and boy, was it one of her favorites ever, though would never admit it as she didn't have it in her to choose a favorite patient or task. And today got her thinking...

She said good night to Melinda who dropped her off. Their shifts ended after nightfall, so her girl brought her home before going back to Jeremy, whom she'd moved in with not too long ago right after their engagement. You heard that just right: Melinda was now wearing a magnificent rose-gold ring on her left hand, brilliantly placed with a peach-colored jewel framed with rubies in the shape of a flower and sided with two tiny diamonds. They were getting married just before Thanksgiving this year, and her girl had yet to pick out her dress, so next weekend was in the question.

Upstairs, Kaleia Schmidt unlocked the door and walked in, yawning as she called, "I'm home, babe!" She then closed and locked the door, hearing his response.

"In here, love."

Kaleia preened, giddy as ever. Honeymoon stage was over, but she still got the butterflies. If only it didn't cease as old age crept. Grandma did say that happened, but even though the sexual drive wasn't what it used to be, your spouse was your companion for life. She was tired, but also in the mood for fun in the bed, only if Michael was, too.

As soon as she saw him spread out on the couch, one arm above his head on the back, a leg stretched out and the other hanging off the edge, and his eyes closed with his mouth parted open a little - was he pretending to nap? - she sucked in a breath and held the mischievous giggle in as she set down her purse on the kitchen counter, knees bent in the creeping position and her hands raised before herself in the matching pose, and oh, was she ready to get her husband...

"GOTCHA, PRINCESS!"

His shout and sudden grab of her hands, shocking her adrenaline rush to life and pulling the shrieks from her throat, her heart rapidly startled, made her mock-angry even as he pulled her down atop him, entrapping her in his arms. "You asshole!" Kaleia screeched, laughing with him as she squirmed against him and wiggled her hips, incidentally nudging against his sleeping wood. "Oh, I'm gonna kill you once I'm free!"

Michael growled heartily in her ear. "Kill me with what?"

"Oh, just by doing this!" She gave a harder push of her groin against his, latching her thighs on his waist and tightening the hold. He grunted and grinned, bucking back in response. "That's right; if you got a death sentence, then you get to die happy."

"You protect life but plan to murder your own husband, with the act of love being the weapon?" he drawled, face inching upwards to hers, stopping centimeters away.

Kaleia returned the action with a teasing peck. "I will if you don't let me go and get out of this dirty uniform first."

His hold on her loosened a little, but his arms remained around her upper body. He hummed. "What do you think we should do first then after that? Have dinner and then dessert...or skip and go right to the best part?" he purred, the nerves in her lips vibrating from his tonal shift and breath.

"Sly bastard, damn you."

He let her go, snickering and sitting up, stretching. She turned and bolted towards their bedroom, the bathroom in there. Here, they had a unique headboard of distressed white wood above the bed covered with rich, textured sea blue scrolls framed with delicate lace; the window drapes matched the pattern. And they might never go to Paris in the future, but that didn't mean they couldn't bring the city of love home, and it happened in the form of the two bedside tables perfectly crafted to look like the Eiffel Tower, the black base topped with soft brown wood, which was set with lamps of vivid stained glass patterns. Against the wall was a comfortable neutral-hued lounge for them to read any of the books beneath the matching bookshelf against the south wall, said items joined with more VHS and the TV topping it off.

Kaleia reached the bottom of her scrubs, pulling it over her head with some strain before it was off seconds later, exposing her comfortable, nude-colored cami bra. The dolphin brooch she remembered to remove because this thing needed to be washed; good thing she had a spare in the closet. In her cami and scrub trousers, she succeeded in locating what she needed from hanging on the bar with the gowns and pajamas she had on her end of the closet.

London blue, the camisole soft lace and sheer-ish in the abdomen, and the fabric trimming the ends of the soft cotton shorts. Courtesy of good old Melinda.

She brought it in with her along with her discarded shirt and walked towards the bathroom door to the closet's left, which was her right, and she was greeted with taupe, marble-like linoleum beneath her feet, all the features white as the walls and accented with dark honeyed tiles in the shower. The area wasn't big enough for a lot of decorations, save for the little faded pot sculpted into a cute elephant with aloe succulents on the top left corner, and the hand soap to the right, and the wall art of golden, four-point stars glimmering in delicate bars. The shower curtain brought an Indiana Jones adventure vibe, patterned and painted to look like a map from the old days. No curtains were needed because the only window was frosted. With an exhale, Kaleia hung her favorite and only camisole set on the doorknob and went to the storage closet, getting one of the sage green towels out.

Ahhh...pink roses, argan oil, and exotic butter.

Dried up, hair brushed and air-drying after the towel and brush did most of it, and the camisole and shorts caressing her flesh, she walked right into the bedroom, discarding the used towels in the basket behind her. There was her husband already naked underneath the covers, completely hidden underneath and his form a lump on the surface. Giggling, Kaleia skipped over to be on her side, sliding underneath.

And yeah she knew to expect this now: he preferred full nudity himself and she loved the lingerie for him to take off.

Michael preferred taking a shower in the morning to wake up, so it was on her morning and night. Their dynamic in hygiene just worked that way. Still, he was full-on ready for her, the covers over their heads so the world was shut out. Her man with his light muscles from both working out every early morning and evening and on days off, as well as from lifting car pieces. Smooth skin and his beautiful manhood covered by one thigh, the knee touching the mattress, giving the pose of a classical figure.

"Goddamn, you intoxicating..." Kaleia crawled up to him, the covers bringing in some rays of light from their heads with her movements. "...troublemaking...sexy bastard." She was now above him, soft lace and silky material rubbing against bare flesh. He hummed and chuckled, rolling onto his back so she straddled him.

Michael and his glory...you didn't see a guy like him every day. If he'd kept this pretty face but was also a major asshole, she either would have destroyed herself in the process believing he'd change for the better because of her, or she'd just nope out of there and not waste time with the likes of him. He was a rarity she just got lucky with and he the same with her after everything his sperm donor had done to his family. "What are you waiting for, darling?" he purred. "Are you going to make love to me or let me go crazy?"

~o~

"It's me..."

He hadn't heard those words since...since long enough after he met Kaleia and everything got better. So why now? And why that feeling earlier which had just come back at an ungodly hour of the night?

"Mike? Babe, what's wrong?" Kaleia woke, turning to him and moaning as she rubbed her eyes, sitting upright and reaching over to touch his forearm, hers covering her exposed breasts. She shook her hair over one shoulder at the same time the phone rang, startling them both out of their skins.

Michael answered it without a breath. "Hello?!"

"Mikey, oh, thank God! You got to come over now! I know it's late, but it's an emergency!"

~o~

"He's on his way, and Kaleia is bringing herself against our protests," Clara grimly told Henry, who was still in awe of the floating puppet in their living room, stunned and seated in the center of the sofa as he looked upon the thing who called him by a title he hadn't heard since -

"Michael is coming here?" the puppet asked excitedly, the centers of its eyes brighter if not widening.

Henry, despite shaking a little, nodded. "Y-yes, he is. And so is his wife."

"Charlie" floated lower so that her head was level with his. "How's he been, Daddy? Happy?" It surprised them both that there was no trace of anger or hate towards him since she'd seen what Michael and his friends did to Evan on the last birthday he ever had, but she was also just a child. Just as it still surprised them...all of this...and they weren't dreaming, were seeing the same thing!

Clara cleared her throat, forcing a smile through the soreness. "Y-yeah, sweetie. He's happy. She's a great girl, and you'd love her."

The puppet bobbed its head, turning towards her. "Grandbabies yet?" Charlie pressed.

"Not yet." They've been married barely a year, and Kaleia hasn't been a nurse that long. Their choice, but I still want to be a grandma. "So, what can you tell us that happened, Charlie?"

"Mikey and his wife are on the way? It's best I wait and tell all of you at once so no more time's wasted. Also, I have a faster way to tell you guys without words."

Henry reached for her. "Can you at least tell us something, baby?" he pleaded, eyes glazed with tears.

The body language slumped a little, head lowered as if in shame. "I would now, but Michael needs to know as much as you. So many things that were in the dark for too long...that Afton is responsible for. That's why I finally found my way home to all of you after a long time."

Sometime later, right after Clara sat down, Charlie in her new form floating around to get another layout of the house and the couple comfortable despite the strange and wound-reopening circumstances, the door was knocked on, telling them Michael and Kaleia were here. They were in for a devil of a shock at the witching hours of the night. And as soon as Henry took his turn, letting them both in and showing them immediately the cause of this, the young couple exclaimed in shock, backing away and hitting the wall behind them together.

~o~

He remembered that thing.

That black and white puppet with the theatre mask streaked with purple tears, painted red cheeks, and a gaping smile that reminded him of the eagerness to swallow you whole if it got enormous enough.

The puppet that was supposed to protect Charlie that night at the diner, right after Evan's death, if not for the fact someone had put a box over it for whatever stupid reason...if only to prevent...

"What's - going on?" Michael had managed as soon as he and Kaleia were in the living room. She'd gasped and shrieked at the same time he sputtered out exclamations he had no idea of. It was as if they were all dreaming, but that wasn't even possible. "Mom, Henry...how did...?"

"Not my doing, Mike," Henry insisted, pale and reddened around the eyes as if he'd been crying. "Got this thing earlier during the day, but there was no return address. I don't know who found out where I was until -" He swallowed. "- until she told us." "She"?!

He was referring to the marionette floating in the air without strings. "Hi, Michael! Remember me?" it asked, giggling as it waved its right hand.

That...that voice... "Charlie?!"

"Just what we said, sweetheart," Clara agreed, waving her hand to fan herself and keep from fainting. "But it's Charlie! She's here, and she has a lot to tell us, and it can't wait. You two should sit down."

And here they were now.

"Let me get this straight," Michael said after everything Charlie spilled. "Your spirit fused into this -" He motioned to the floating puppet form. "- just in time for you to die, and now you're back because you finally figured out how to get away from the pizzeria, and my sperm donor is up to some shady, scary shit we never knew about before because he's that damned good." Mom tutted from the corner of his eye but didn't correct him. Charlie was just a child when she'd been murdered, her killer never caught, but barely eight years had to pass enough for her mental youth to be taken.

Charlie bobbed her head. "Yeah, that's it. But it would be easier to show you everything that I've found."

Yeah, after the shit they collectively experienced when they saw Charlie's final moments outside the diner, the same day as Evan...the purple car had come up behind her, and they knew exactly whose that was.

They felt her pain when the knife sliced up almost every part of her upper body, the jugular destroyed as the final touch.

They saw the red fading to darkness.

They saw William Afton's blank savagery unleashed that no one had ever seen before, at least not since he'd returned from Vietnam, in Henry and Clara's cases.

Now they knew who was responsible, and now she had more to share with them. She asked them to gather and hold onto each other, herself coming in the center and wrapping both arms around the best she could, for this was how her memory sharing worked.

Now Michael once again had the same feeling he did earlier, calling himself a dummy for brushing it off as nothing.