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Michael woke up in an unfamiliar room, the only recognizable things in there being a calculator and a gun on a table. There was a note next to the calculator:
You want your freedom? Kill him.
Coordinates were typed underneath the message. There was no familiar w.bg, none of Ty’s signature false cordiality, nothing that indicated it was Edgar or Anne or anyone else he knew. Just a regular piece of printer paper, courier font, and nothing else. Having lived through as much of the time travel game as he had, Michael knew it was best not to question it; he holstered the gun, picked up the calculator, punched in the coordinates and allowed himself to be transported away.
The room he landed in was dark, but still felt achingly familiar. He had spent a lot of time in this room, after all, before things got as crazy as they had. It was his old bedroom in the Latvia apartment. He would know it anywhere.
This meant there was only one person that the figure in the bed could be.
Michael remembered this day well– far too well. It hurt to think about, hurt to know what he had almost done, what it did to his relationship with Mike. What it had done to his relationship with the very person lying asleep in front of him. Glancing at the clock, Michael saw that it was roughly an hour after he would’ve tried to kill MW; the fact that MW managed to go back to sleep after that at all felt like a miracle in his mind. Now, here once again, Michael wasn’t sure if he could pull the trigger. Wasn’t sure that he wanted to pull the trigger. The note had said this would buy him his freedom, but was his freedom really worth this cost? Knowing what he knew now, caring how he did now, could he really–
“Michael?”
MW looked more confused than scared, which was a good thing given how this night originally went. “Howdy, pard.”
“You’re not the same Michael, are you?” MW asked, sleepiness fading as he sat up and clicked the light on.
“I sorta am, actually,” Michael said, gesturing to the bed in a silent request to sit. MW nodded, scooting backward to be propped against the headrest while Michael sat on the opposite corner of the bed. “I ain’t the one that came in earlier tonight, but I’m who he becomes.”
MW studied him, eyes flickering between Michael’s face and the gun at Michael’s hip. “But you’re also here to kill me.”
Michael sighed, pulling the gun out of the holster and placing it on the bed. “I’m apparently supposed to. Woke up who the hell knows where with a note that said to get my freedom I hafta kill ya.”
“Oh.” To say MW looked crestfallen would be an understatement. The fear that hadn’t been there before was starting to creep in, alongside the same Mike Walters craftiness that was clearly calculating if he would be able to grab the gun first. “Listen, Michael–”
“I don’t wanna kill ya,” Michael said firmly, pushing the gun further towards MW. “I don’t– What happened tonight, Emdubya, it haunts me. I think about it constantly, think about how it almost broke me n’ Mike, how it almost broke you ‘n me. Knowin’ what I know now, I don’t wanna kill ya. If that’s what my freedom costs then it ain’t worth it.”
MW looked almost amazed at this– which was fair, Michael supposed, given that this was the night he had tried to kill MW. “Michael… Are you sure?” Michael gestured toward the bed again, another silent question that was answered with a nod. He stood up, sitting back down beside MW, wrapping an arm around the younger iteration who relaxed into his arms far more than Michael would’ve thought.
“Yer worth far more than my freedom, Emdubya. I know the Michael out there didn’t make it seem like that was true, but it is. I promise ya it is.” Michael pressed a kiss to MW’s forehead, tears starting to well up in both of their eyes as he did so. “Y’ain’t supposed to die here. Yer supposed ta live, supposed ta become the best dom fer other people that I ever did see. Yer supposed to be here, with us, because we love ya. I love ya, Emdubya. I ain’t gonna let anythin’ happen to ya, freedom be damned.”
MW cuddled closer to Michael, squeezing him a little tighter as both of them continued to silently cry. Michael kissed MW on the forehead again, trying to memorize the feeling of him in Michael’s arms.
He could almost feel MW still as he was transported away again.