Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was 1:37pm when Michael received the call. Prior to the interruption, he lay in his bed, snoring and drooling into the pillow below. When the ringtone chimed in his ear, he choked on his breath.

"What—!" he coughed, "Aw, shit—"

Michael ripped the phone off of the wall, the cord pushing a few small papers off of his nightstand, "Ev, is that you? Am I late? Sorry, I just—"

Someone on the other line cut him off, and he shifted to sit upright.

"Oh. Hey—hello Mr. Olowe. Is something wrong? What's going on?"

Listening intently to the man in the phone, Michael's eyes widened, "No—no, that's impossible. How?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose, "I—Okay. Okay—I'll be there in a minute."

At 1:41pm, Michael Afton left his small apartment in what was, prior to this moment, a quiet town. He raced with the time on his watch: 1:48pm. He had an hour and some spare time before he was supposed to pick up his brother from school. How was he supposed to deal with something like this in only an hour?

He arrived at the pizzeria at 1:59pm, the smiling faces on the Freddy Fazbear's sign taunting him. He rushed towards the doors of the building, but was promptly stopped by two police officers.

"Where do you think you're goin', kid?" a man said to him, "We've got an active scene going, so scram."

Michael glared at him, "I'm the owner of this place. The sheriff called me here. Can I go in now?"

"Afton's kid?" the other cop snorted, "Shoulda' known, you look just like him. Better hope you don't inherit his attitude too, heh."

His cheeks burned and his nostrils flared, but he said nothing.

"I need to see some ID, sir," the first cop said.

"Sure," Michael fumbled in his pockets for his driver's license. When he showed the cop his identification, the man stepped by to let him through with a scoff. Normally, Michael would be annoyed by that small offense, but he did not have the time to care today.

"Fritz!" he sprinted across the black and white checkered floor and onto the colorful carpet of the party room.

The trembling teenager glanced up at him, "Mike!"

Michael grabbed his shoulders, "Fritz, man, are you okay? You're not hurt?"

"N-no, I'm fine, but that girl..." Fritz let out a shaky breath, "I-I was just trying to find an extra Bonnie head for later tonight, in the old storage room, so I could switch it out after we closed—he was starting to look a little dirty—but i-it...it smelled horrible. And it was dark, and I—there was a foot in the corner, but...I never thought—"

"Okay, Fritz—"

"And I can't just stop caring for my siblings, they need me but—this is just—" he sniffled, "What am I supposed to do, Mike?"

"Just calm down, okay?" Michael looked him in the eyes earnestly, "I'm gonna figure everything out, don't worry about a thing. Once these assholes give you the go ahead, run straight home, alright?"

Fritz swallowed, pushing down his fears, "What about you? This stuff—it's—it's heavy..."

He chuckled, "I can handle it, man. Take care of yourself, okay? I should go see what's really happening here, as much as I don't want to..."

Despite the horror of the situation, Fritz giggled bitterly, "Thanks, boss man. Um—let me know how things go?"

"Mhm," he nodded, flashing Fritz his signature 'everything is going to be fine' smile. In truth, he was just as terrified as his employee was, but someone needed to hold it all together. Michael would be the rock until he finally cracked. But he promised himself that would come later rather than sooner.

As he walked to the storage room, Michael glanced back at Fritz; he was biting his nail, boring his gaze into the carpet of the party area. Fritz and Jeremy were nothing alike, but Michael could see his dead friend in Fritz's eyes—Jeremy, his friend since kindergarten. Jeremy and him worked together before Michael took ownership of the new establishment in 1988. Back then, his uncle Henry was his boss, and Jeremy and Michael were two young employees. The two delinquents had many a memory together in the old establishment, but everything came to an end when Mangle bit Jeremy in 1987. Not long after, the restaurant closed due to his death. Deep inside, Michael found himself worrying that Fritz had suffered a similar fate. He was relieved to see the teen did not.

At 2:17pm, he walked cautiously up to the sheriff, who discussed the scene with another cop. The other cop noticed Michael walking up to the man and motioned for him to turn around.

The sheriff folded his arms as he turned, "Hello, Mr. Afton."

"Hi, Mr. Olowe," Michael coughed anxiously, sticking his hand out to the man, "Nice to see you again."

Scoffing, the sheriff took his hand, "On the contrary. We see each other too often, Michael Afton."

Michael's face flushed, "Right. Sorry. Anyway—so...what happened?"

"Did Mr. Fritz not fill you in? I saw you talking with him just now," Mr. Olowe raised an eyebrow.

Michael shook his head, "Yeah, but he's pretty shaken up. His story isn't really coherent. I mean, I got the gist—dead girl in the storage room—is it really true?"

"I'm afraid so," the sheriff sighed, "A young girl, can't be much younger than your brother Evan."

A shiver ram down Michael's spine, "Y-yeah."

"We believe she's a girl named Susie, who was reported missing last week. We haven't done an official autopsy yet, of course, but by the looks of it, it seems she died from exsanguination—" he glanced at Michael's confused brows, "—meaning she lost too much blood. Five stab wounds in the ventral side of her body, her stomach."

"Jesus Christ," Michael ran a hand through his hair.

"My thoughts exactly," Mr. Olowe crossed his arms and turned to look at the open storage room door. Just past the frame was a body covered in a white sheet, but it was blocked from their view by a wall. Police rushed in and out of the room, collecting whatever evidence they could. Raising a hand to his chin, Mr. Olowe continued in a hushed voice, "If I'm being honest with you, Mr. Afton, I don't believe this is the killer's first crime. I took a few criminal profiling and behavioral analysis courses a little while back. Based on what we observed, it seems like this killer knows what he's doing. The scene was completely cleaned up—no shoe tracks, no fingerprints, not even a trace of blood. The body was positioned perfectly in the corner so that whoever had the misfortune of entering the room next would see a tiny bit of the body, but have to step closer to see the full scene. When they did so, they would be shocked by the image of a dead young girl. It's almost like the killer was trying to taunt someone."

"But who would do that? And why?" Michael shook his head, "It's insane."

"Seems like the poor girl put up a fight, too. Whoever did this knew exactly where to take her so no one could hear her thrashing and screaming."

The 19-year-old didn't respond. Michael scrunched his eyes closed, trying to process the information he just heard. When he opened his eyes, he saw that Mr. Olowe was watching him.

"Mr. Afton, what were you talking to your employee about?" the sheriff questioned, his demeanor becoming snippy.

"Huh?" Michael turned to face Mr. Olowe completely, "I just wanted to see if he was okay. You remember what happened to Jeremy Fitzgerald. He was my friend. I didn't want to see something like that happen again—not that this is any better, of course, but still."

"You were talking to him for quite a while," Mr. Olowe pushed the conversation onward.

"Yeah, because he's totally freaked out. And who can blame him?" Michael defended, "He dropped out of school to help his mom take care of his siblings. He's working two jobs right now. He's already so stressed out, and now, he just discovered a murder. I think I would wanna talk about that, too. It's terrifying."

"I understand that, Mr. Afton," he narrowed his eyes, searching for any guilt in the young adult's face, "Now, Mr. Afton, I am going to need you to comply with some preliminary measures."

He stepped away from the man, "Preliminary what?"

"You're prime suspect number one right now," Mr. Olowe pulled handcuffs from his jacket, "We need to take you in for the night and do an investigation. If everything goes well, we'll have you out in the morning."

"Wait, I'm supposed to pick up my little brother from school today. It's already—" Michael glanced at the clock, "2:42. He gets out at 3:00."

"You can call someone from the police station to go get him. It's not far," Mr. Olowe lifted the handcuffs, "Wrists, please."

Rolling his eyes, Michael lifted his wrists, "Fine. But don't think I'm guilty just because I'm complying."

"Complying is a good sign that you're innocent, Mr. Afton," the sheriff clipped the cuffs onto him, "Let's get you back to the station."

"Oh, great," Michael sassed, his eyes rolled far back in his head.

As they walked towards the front door, the two caught Fritz's eye. He spun around to them, staring at Michael with a look of horror.

"Mike...?" Fritz's shoulders slumped, his eyes wide.

"Hey, I told you I'd figure everything out, right?" Michael smiled, kind and warm, "It's just preliminary questioning. Everything is fine, Fritz. I'll be back soon."

As he gazed into Fritz's fearful eyes, his heart broke. He knew that, even though he would be released tomorrow, he needed to talk to someone else before he could come back to the restaurant. Someone who would know what to do.

"That kid really relies on you," Mr. Olowe opened the front door for Michael, "I hope you haven't let him down."

"I'm not going to," Michael narrowed his eyes, "I don't care how much you think I might've done this, I didn't. And I'll make sure we find out who did. For Fritz, and for that little girl back there. Susie?"

"Susie," the sheriff nodded, "Get in the car, Mr. Afton."

As furious as he was, Michael climbed into the car. It was 2:48pm. Time was ticking down, and he still had to tell his uncle the news.

At 2:54pm, they arrived at the police station. Michael walked in briskly, led by Mr. Olowe. When he got into the holding cell, Mr. Olowe let him free of the handcuffs and locked him inside.

As Michael rubbed his wrists, the man spoke, "You have one free phone call before we interview you. After the interview, you can call whoever you want whenever you want, but it will be a collect call on their expense. Am I clear?"

"Crystal, sir," Michael replied sarcastically. Although the sheriff narrowed his eyes, he said nothing and walked away.

His eyes followed the sheriff, then ran along the walls of the holding cell. He always thought he would be put in here as a teenager, not after he graduated high school.

"This sucks..." he muttered to himself, "Alright, then."

He dialed his uncle's landline and sat through the cacophony of ringing. When Henry picked up, Michael sighed.

"Hey, Uncle Henry," he greeted tiredly.

"Oh! Hello, Mike. Is everything okay? You remember you're supposed to get Evan today, right? Did you figure out which arcade you want to take him to yet?"

"Yeah, about that..." Michael rubbed his neck, "I'm really sorry, but can you pick him up? I'm kind of, um, in prison."

"What?! Michael Afton, you explain what's going on right now, mister!"

He winced at his uncle's yelling, "I didn't do anything, okay? It's just preliminary measures, the cops said. There was...a murder...at the restaurant. Fritz found the body. Some girl named Susie, apparently not much younger than Ev."

"Oh...no..." Michael could hear his uncle slowly processing his words, "But...I don't understand—if you didn't do anything, then why are you in jail?"

"Well, Mr. Olowe said I'm prime suspect number one. I guess it's probably because I own the place? I dunno. But it's crazy—they said she was reported missing some time last week, and I had no idea. Now that I'm working the night shift, I don't really go into the storage room anymore. That's where she was."

"Disgusting..." Henry sighed, "Who would do such a thing?"

"I have no idea. I'm trying to think, our town isn't that big, but I just...can't figure it out. A-anyway, they said if everything goes well that they'll release me tomorrow morning. So, hopefully, I don't screw it up," Michael snickered bitterly.

"Mike, this is not something to joke about," Henry scolded half-heartedly, "I can pick you up tomorrow if you'd like. And I'll leave to get Evan now."

"Thanks, Uncle. You're the best," he smiled into the phone.

"Of course. Be safe, Mike. I love you."

Michael swallowed a lump in his throat, "I love you, too."

Slowly, he hung the phone back on the wall. As the oldest sibling, he was used to being the one taking care of everyone else. People relied on him, and after everything he had done, he was glad they did. Now, however, he felt like he returned to square one. When he returned to Earth all those years ago, he vowed to clean up his act for his younger siblings. How did he end up in prison?

"Mr. Afton," the sheriff knocked on the bars, "You ready?"

"Yup," he sighed, running a hand down his face, "Let's get this over with."

"A good attitude goes a long way, Mr. Afton."

Michael pursed his lips. Of course it did.

Chapter Text

"So, let me get this straight," Elizabeth pinched her nose, "They put him in prison only because they have no one else to suspect?"

"They're just doing their jobs," Henry reasoned, placing a mug in front of the girl.

"Yeah, well, they're not very good at it," Elizabeth placed her elbow on the table and held her head.

Currently, the entire Emily family was sitting around the table, sipping tea in an attempt to relax. What with the murder and Michael in jail, everyone was on edge.

"I knew that girl in middle school," Evan shook his head, his short, curly mullet following, "She was a year below me. We didn't talk much, but we were both on the academic team."

When Sammy snorted from across the table, Evan grimaced.

"Sam, will you shut up?" Charlie hit her brother's bicep.

"Sorry, sorry! It's just—" he laughed, "I still can't believe you were on the academic team. Not that you aren't smart, but dude, you look like a total basket case."

Red-faced, Evan averted his gaze and leaned back in his chair, "I do not!"

"Bro, you're wearing a grey hoodie over a black AC/DC t-shirt. That's, like, as basket case as you can get,” an idea came to him, and he leaned forward on his elbows, “You're like that girl from The Breakfast Club, you'll shake your head and a bunch of dandruff will come out."

As Evan groaned, Charlie and Sammy’s mother Alice scolded her son, "Mind your mouth, Samuel, or you'll be grounded."

"You suck!" Evan glared across the table at the teen.

"You too, Evan," Alice warned.

"Sorry, Auntie," he grumbled in return.

Elizabeth clicked her tongue, "At least something interesting was happening."

"Yeah, but now probably isn't the time for an argument," Charlie tapped her chin, "Y'know, I wonder what questions they're asking Michael right now. Why do they need him for a whole night? It can't take that long, can it?"

***

Michael slouched in a metal seat, scanning the walls around him. He assumed the giant mirror to his left was where other officers were watching him like a zoo animal. Staring at his reflection, he had just started fixing his short hair when an officer walked in.

"Mr. Michael Afton, right?" the cop asked, watching the young adult jump and place a hand on his heart.

"Y-yeah, that's me," he exhaled, pushing a piece of his hair back, "I feel like I get a heart attack every few seconds in this place."

"It can be like that," the cop chuckled, "Water? Apple?"

Michael's eyebrows rose as the officer placed the food and drink on the table in front of him, "Oh! Yeah, that would be great, I'm starving. Thank you."

"No problem," she nodded as she sat down, "Alright, before we begin, I want you to be aware of your rights. You have the right to remain silent. If you do say anything, it can be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to have a lawyer present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you if you so desire. Sound good?"

"Yeah, that's fine. I don't really wanna waste any time looking for a lawyer right now, I just wanna get out of here as soon as possible. I was supposed to go to the arcade with my little brother today," Michael bit into his apple.

"I understand," the officer folded her hands on the table, "My name is Officer Russo, and I'll be conducting this interview today."

"Mm," he hummed in acknowledgement, swallowing a bite of the apple, "I'm Michael, but I guess you already knew that."

"Indeed. You're Michael Afton, son of William Afton. It is my understanding that you are the owner and Chief Executive Officer of Fazbear Entertainment, Incorporated."

"That's right," Michael replied, feeling a bit more awkward.

"You're very young, Michael," the officer commented, "How did you gain these titles?"

He cleared his throat, "Well, my father was co-owner of the company with my uncle—my uncle isn't an uncle by blood, though, my dad and him were best friends. Anyway, when my father died, he addressed a letter to my uncle with his will. He said that, when I turned eighteen, he wanted me to gain ownership of our childhood home and the Fazbear Entertainment franchise. I sold the house, I couldn't live in it after everything that happened, but I decided to accept ownership of the company. I could tell my uncle was exhausted with all the finances and problems and everything. Although he's good at talking with people, he's never been a business man. What he really loves is engineering. He works as the Director of Engineering now."

"Interesting, very interesting," the officer paused for a moment, "So, you say your father died. How did he die? And what happened to you after that?"

"Getting personal, huh?" Michael tugged on the collar of his shirt, "Well, uh, my father...my father committed suicide. Um...yeah. It was...a shock, you could say. Me and my siblings—we had gotten lost while playing outside. We weren't around when it happened, and it—uh—happened because of our absence, I guess."

"You guess?" the officer pried, placing a folder from her lap onto the table.

"Um, yeah. My father was, uh...I mean, I knew he cared for my younger siblings, but me...I dunno. He wasn't the best father to me. Used to hit me whenever I acted out, which only made me act out more. And then get hit more. Sometimes it was a slap, sometimes a punch...my siblings were really young at the time, so it made my little brother afraid of him. My sister pretended it didn't happen at all until we, uh, got lost."

She nodded, "And what happened when you got lost?"

Michael lied through his teeth, a lie he had been telling since they returned from the presumed dead six years ago, "We went in the forest to play, the forest by our old house. We stayed out there until really late. I should've made my siblings go home, but we were all having so much fun, I just...I lost track of time. We wandered around for a while until we came to a road. Someone picked us up, said he would take us home, but after maybe half an hour he stopped the car and blindfolded us. Maybe an hour or two after that we were in his basement and he took the blindfolds off, but he was covered head to toe in black, even his face. For the next eight months he fed us and treated us like his own, but sometimes he would...lash out. Like he changed. I still don't understand it, but he would beat us up, then cry and apologize. The day we made it home, he did that exact thing. But after he beat us up, he decided to let us go—thought we’d finally had enough. I don't think he expected us to make it back home, but we did. We got on public transport, and when the driver saw us, his jaw dropped. Took us straight home, no pay or anything."

"That sounds very traumatizing," the officer said sympathetically.

Michael thought about what really happened, his life with Childe and Kaeya, his brothers, his family.

"Uh, yeah. It was."

"So, I do see in your file it says you were reported missing for eight months," the officer said, "You, and Elizabeth and Evan. 13, 10, and 8. Now 19, 16, and 14, yes?"

"Yep," he smiled, "Lizzie's almost 17. She's always saying that. Wants to grow up too fast, y'know? She's got a lot of passion for the world, but she can't do much right now since she's underage. She wants to be a lawyer when she grows up."

"A lawyer? Interesting," the officer flipped through some pages, "I want to talk about some other things in your file. You began working for the Fazbear Entertainment company when you were 16, yes?"

"Yes," Michael bounced his knee, knowing where the investigation would lead next, "I was 16. One of my best friends convinced me to work there."

"Jeremy Fitzgerald?" she asked cautiously.

"Jeremy Fitzgerald," Michael nodded, biting his lip.

"How close were you and Jeremy?"

Smiling, he recalled his friend fondly, "We were as close as brothers. There were five people in our friend group: Jeremy, me, Alyssa, Frankie, and Parker. Parker became my best friend almost as soon as we met in middle school, but nothing could replace the bond between Jeremy and I. I had known Jeremy since, like, kindergarten. He was always just...there, I guess. So, I didn't really know what to do when he wasn't. I still find myself wanting to call him, but he's...y'know. As mean as we were, Jeremy always had a soft spot for the pizzeria. He loved seeing the kids so happy, and the arcade games were his thing. Even the animatronics he loved. Especially Mangle."

"Is Mangle the one who bit him?"

"Yes," Michael blinked away his tears, "Mangle bit him. She was a part of the 'toy' model of the animatronics. She was supposed to be Foxy, but for some reason the staff thought she'd be better as a take-apart and put-together attraction for the kids. It was before me and Jeremy started working there. I think he liked Mangle the most because he pitied her. He knew she didn't have real emotions, obviously, but he always liked to pretend she did. Not in a weird way—just to make me laugh. From there, it sort of became like the way a child loves a stuffed animal, y'know? It was innocent."

The officer averted her gaze to the folder, "The record says you were there when Jeremy was bit."

"I was. I saw it happen. Something in her programming bugged and she was climbing on walls and going crazy. I rushed everyone out of the building while Jeremy looked for Mangle. But...she found him first. She was climbing on the ceiling, and..." Michael shook his head, "The animatronics had all been bugging out around adults, but since they were normal around kids, the restaurant manager told us not to worry about it. He didn't report it to my uncle, either. After that, I'm sure you know what happened. The restaurant closed and we scrapped the toy models along with their programming. We used to let the animatronics roam around during the day, but now they can only walk freely at night."

"After the incident with Jeremy, you still decided to take ownership of the franchise and manage the newest restaurant. Why didn't you take time off?"

"I thought it would be my fault if that ever happened to someone else," Michael stressed, "I couldn't let that happen. That's why I work the night shift, so even if they do bug out while they're roaming, it'll be me who takes the fall. I mean—I know they won't bug out because they do have new programming that doesn't allow that, but I still get nervous that somehow, because of some hellish miracle..."

The officer nodded, "I understand. But that brings us to now. The murder of Susie, which happened in your restaurant. Would you care to hear the facts?"

"Yes, please," Michael leaned forward, and the officer continued.

"Well, to begin, the body had five stab wounds in the stomach. She is being sent in for an autopsy in a few hours, but the cause of death is predictable. No murder weapon, blood, or fingerprints were found. Our entomology team predicts a postmortem interval of four days. And the security footage from all of Monday was erased."

His eyebrows furrowed, "All of it? That can't be right—you're sure?"

"We're certain, Mr. Afton," the officer said.

"But we're closed on Monday—we're strictly closed. No one works on Monday."

"Precisely. And there are no signs of forced entry," the officer clasped her hands together, "Mr. Afton, whoever planned this murder knew the ins-and-outs of your establishment very well. Do you know of anyone who might've had a key? Or is there a door that could've been open?"

"No—no, there couldn't have been a door open because I locked them all when I left at 10pm on Sunday. On Sundays I always work the closing shift so I can make sure all of the animatronics and electronics are powered down for the day off."

"Is there anyone other than you that has a key?" the officer wondered.

"Just me and my—my uncle..." Michael quickly reached for a lie, "But he said he lost it a week or two ago."

"That might be our answer, Mr. Afton," the officer stood, "Thank you for participating in this investigation. You've been a big help. You may spend the rest of the night in your holding cell, and you will be released at 10am. Okay?"

"Okay," Michael spoke, somewhat ignoring the officer. Now, he was thinking about Henry. No sign of break-in—perhaps he did leave a door open? But only Henry had another key. Michael knew he himself was innocent, but there was no way he could be sure that his uncle was. But why would Henry do such a thing? He was a kind, honest man. He was a father.

Even if Henry committed the murder, Michael knew there was only one way to keep his family safe. The cops were on their tail now, but Michael had a plan. He just had to get through one more night.

Chapter Text

In the morning, Michael was released from his cell as promised. Time was ticking. The station wasn't too far from his restaurant, and he had no time to make a call. He sprinted across the sidewalks back to the pizzeria, dodging every kid on their bicycles as he went.

"Hi, Mr. Afton!" a group of kids waved, and he grinned at them.

"Hey!" Michael waved, out of breath, and continued running. God, what would they think of him when he returned?

When the edge of the restaurant finally came into view, Michael thanked his luck for making his trip short. He panted heavily, leaning on the hood of his car for support. He slid into the driver's seat and sped to his apartment, sprinting through the stairs and hallways.

He entered his door and wasted no time; side stepping every corner and piece of furniture, he grabbed a small orange box from his room, then sprinted back to his car. With a piece of leftover paper and a pen both found in his glovebox, he scribbled a note, then drove back to Henry's.

When he reached his uncle's house, the house he spent his high school years in, the world seemed to spin around him. He panted in the car, then hit the steering wheel. Why couldn't he live a normal life?

Not minding to lock his vehicle, Michael raced into Henry's house; he used his own key to barge through the door. When he did, the door hit the wall next to it, and the family eating breakfast at the table looked at him.

"Happy Saturday, Mike. How was prison?" Sammy teased as Michael breathed wildly.

"Mikey, you okay?" Charlie asked.

"Dude, you're really pale," Evan cringed, observing his brother's face. Elizabeth tilted her head, noticing the bends in his knees.

"He's gonna faint—" she jumped out of her chair, "He's gonna—!"

She ran to her brother, catching him just as he started to fall. He fought the faint, though, simply leaning his upper body weight onto Elizabeth's shoulder.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Michael held his forehead, "Listen, we don't have time for this. Uncle Henry—"

He broke out into a coughing fit as Evan took Elizabeth's place and Sammy held him up on the other side. Michael tried to swallow the coughs down, but they kept coming.

"Mike, son, calm down," Henry put his hands out, "We have all the time in the world, okay?"

"No, we don't," Michael insisted, pushing past Evan and Sammy to the table, "The cops said—they said there was no evidence of a break-in. I let it slip that only you and I have a key to the restaurant. I know I'm innocent, and I'm sure you are too, but they're going to think it was one of us. Uncle, you have a family to raise, and I have to keep you all safe. So—so give this letter to the police when they get here. Okay?"

"Wait, Michael—" Henry stood up from his seat, "Where are you going? What are you doing?"

"Just give this letter to them, okay? Promise me," Michael begged, opening Henry's hand and placing the note in it, "I'll be back when I figure out how to fix this—I'll fix everything. I'm sorry this is happening to us, Uncle."

"Mike," the man put a hand on his nephew's cheek, rubbing his thumb along his cheekbone.

"I'm so sorry, Uncle," Michael whispered as his voice failed him, "I'll come back, I promise."

He kissed his uncle's forehead, then gave him a tight hug. As he pulled the orange box from his pocket, he passed Charlie and Elizabeth without looking at either of their faces. He pressed down on the box as he did so, imagining Liyue as it was when he left. Just as he planned, a portal opened as he was walking and he stepped through it, quickly closing it behind him.

"Wait, Mike—!" Elizabeth tried to call, but it was no use. The portal was already gone, and Michael didn't so much as spare her a glance.

"That idiot," Elizabeth grimaced, "We could have figured something out—together!"

Evan put a hand on Elizabeth's back, and she looked up into his eyes. She would never get used to looking up at her baby brother.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words didn't come out. He was trying to find something comforting, something to calm his sister down, but as he scoured his brain, he found that he was upset, too.

As Elizabeth wordlessly leaned into Evan's shoulder, Sammy asked, "What's in the note, Dad?"

Henry opened the letter, "I'm afraid to read it. My glasses are upstairs, still."

"I can read it," Charlie offered. Henry thanked her, passing the note over to his daughter. She cleared her throat:

"To whomever it may concern,
My name is Michael Afton. I am the owner and CEO of Fazbear Entertainment, Inc. I also run the establishment in Hurricane, Utah. And I..."

Charlie brought a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide.

"Charlie," Evan brought her back to Earth. She bit her lip, then continued.

"I...I killed the little girl, Susie. I did it on Monday, when no one else was around. I cleared the security camera footage after. I choked her, and th-then I stabbed her."

Charlie gulped, "I wore gloves. I mopped the floor. Then I hid her body in the storage closet. I confess to the murder of Susie. And with this confession, I ask that you leave my family out of this. Do not contact them any further than you need to. They are innocent, and I don't want to see their lives uprooted again."

"And..." she faltered, holding back her tears, "And to my family, I'm sorry that this is happening. I thought things would be normal after we came back—maybe even better. I guess I was wrong. But I will always protect you. And I don't care if things aren't normal or won't be normal ever again, I'll—I'll never stop protecting you. I love you.
Sincerely,
Michael Afton."

A silence settled around the family. Sammy sat on the table, his legs resting on a chair in front of him. He placed his elbows on his knees and ducked his forehead into his hands, ripping at his hair.

"Why will he never let anyone else help him?" Sammy grimaced, "He can't do this alone! How does he think he’s gonna solve a murder on his own? And now the dumbass just confessed to it! He can't come home, they'll be looking everywhere for him!"

"There's gotta be something we can do," Evan argued.

"We should lay low for now. Let's let things brush over at least a little bit, then maybe we can start trying to figure out how we can help him," Charlie turned to her father, "Right, Dad?"

Henry stared at the floor, chewing on his nails.

"Uncle, you're doing it again," Evan reminded him.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Henry sighed, looking at his nails that began to bleed, "It's been a long time since it's gotten this bad."

"Mike has a way of making people nervous for him," Elizabeth commented sarcastically, sitting in the seat Sammy's legs were on. She threw her arms over his lap and rested her head on his bouncing thigh. When she lay on him, he stopped.

"Yes, well, that and..." Henry rubbed his neck, "I don't want to say this, but...what if he did commit the murder?"

Sammy leaned back from his legs, venom dripping from his voice, "What?"

"I—I'm just suggesting," the man looked at the three kids in front of him, who each looked betrayed and heart broken. He turned to his daughter on his left, whose eyebrows scrunched in disappointment. He sighed, "I love Michael just as much as you all do, but you heard what he said. There was no sign of break-in, and he confessed to the crime."

"He was trying to protect us!" Sammy yelled, the vein in his neck pulsating, "Obviously, you don't love Mike as much as we do because you don't know him at all! He's our brother, it doesn't matter if he isn't related to Charlie and I, he's family! You would seriously just throw him under the bus like that?!"

"Samuel!" Henry scolded.

The teen slammed his hands down on the table, then pointed at Henry, "You're a shitty fucking father if you think Mike actually murdered someone! Fuck you!"

When the words came out of his mouth, Henry flinched. He averted his gaze, but his clenched fist told Sammy everything he needed to know: his words did get under his father’s skin. Was it because he thought Michael was a murderer, or was it because he claimed he was a bad father? He knew it was wrong to say—after all, he could’ve had someone like William instead—but he just couldn’t stop the sentence from slipping out.

"Sam, stop it!" Charlie put her hands on his shoulders while he clenched his jaw to stop himself from yelling at his sister. She watched his eyes soften, then he averted his gaze.

"Sorry. But I've known Mike for my whole life. He wouldn't do this. I know he wouldn't."

"Dad's just trying to protect all of us," Charlie whispered, "I don't think he would either, but we're dealing with murder here. If not him, then someone's on the loose in our town."

"I know. I know, I know," Sammy rested his forehead in one hand, "I'm sorry—I am. I'm just...I'm nervous."

"Us too," Elizabeth replied quietly, pulling away from his thighs and leaning the side of her body on his.

Evan pushed himself up onto the table next to Sammy, "Mike does stupid stuff all the time, but he'll get through it. He always does."

He said it almost as if he was trying to convince himself it was true.

"Yeah, I hope so," Sammy rested his head in his hand.

"The best thing we can do right now is be there for each other," Henry interjected, forcing out comforting words though he himself felt uneasy, "I know you're all frightened, and that's okay, but—"

Suddenly, a sharp knock on the door ripped them away from their conversation. They all stared at the door with wide eyes, not speaking so much as a whisper. A pin dropped.

The person on the other side yelled, "Police! Open up!"

"Go upstairs," Henry demanded quietly.

Sammy shook his head, "Dad—"

"Did I stutter, Sam? Go upstairs."

Inhaling, Sammy leaned back as his face grew red. Charlie pushed him lightly off of the table, rushing the other three teenagers upstairs. When they were no longer in sight, Henry faced the door. He took a breath.

It was time to lose his son, all over again.

***

When Michael passed through the portal, Liyue's bright sun blinded him. He shielded his eyes with his hands, hunched over panting.

"Mikey!" he heard someone call. When he turned his head, he saw the outline of what looked like Xiangling holding a box of Jueyun Chilis. He huffed out a laugh, but his breathlessness choked him. He broke into another coughing fit, his body shaking.

He couldn't see that Xiangling was running to his rescue, dropping her box on the ground, so he thought about the next best thing.

As he took a step forward, he felt himself falling to the gravel. In a weak voice, he tried to call out for someone he knew would save him.

"X-Xiao."

He could only hope he was loud enough.

Chapter Text

Michael stirred, a warm light invading his closed eyes. Someone wrung out a towel next to him, the water dripping into a small bowl. He pulled his forearm to his eyelids as he groaned.

"Oh, he's getting up!" a girl observed.

"He should rest more," a raspy voice commented, "Humans are fragile."

Michael pursed his lips, "I can hear you, y'know."

"I mean no offense."

"Thanks, Xiao," he lifted himself off of the couch and rubbed his eye, "Man, I have the worst headache."

Zhongli put the towel on a table in front of him, "Here, drink this. It may help."

Michael looked around the room; he was in Zhongli's apartment. Although he didn't visit often, he recognized the layout: first floor, a window to his right where he could see a few bushes. There was a loveseat placed in front of the window with a small table next to it. Zhongli kneeled on the floor next to the table, which held a bowl of water, a towel, and a cup with apple juice. Michael snickered as he pulled it from the table. He turned a little further to see Xiao standing next to Zhongli, and Xiangling kneeling on his other side.

"How are you feeling?" Xiangling asked while he took a sip of the juice.

Michael exhaled, "Better now. A little."

"Well, that's a start," the girl giggled sheepishly, "Oh, I cooked some dinner for you! It might also help."

"Oh. Thank you," the teen smiled, "Sorry about your chilis, by the way. I can pay you back for them."

"Don't worry about it, Chongyun caught them before they all spilled. Only a couple fell out."

Michael huffed out a laugh as Xiao spoke, "What were you doing that made you faint?"

"Uh, running? Panicking, mostly," he shrugged.

"You should take better care of yourself. You are a business owner now, people are relying on you. And, also, you have people who care about you," Zhongli wore a teasing smile.

"Right..." Michael sighed, a hand on his neck. He had so much to tell them, it was starting to overwhelm him.

"Is something going on, Mikey? You know you can talk to us," Xiangling placed her hand on his that sat on the seat.

"I..." he faltered, "Yeah, it's some...stuff...with the business. I don't really want to get into it right now—my head is still hurting a little bit."

"The juice didn't help?" Zhongli tilted his head in concern.

"It made it a little better," Michael lied, a smile on his face.

"He's stressed," Xiao deduced, "Is there anything we can do? Perhaps we should leave you be."

The young man cringed, "No! No, please don't do that. I need something to get my mind off of everything."

"Do you wanna chat? I can tell you about my day!" Xiangling offered, and Michael chuckled.

"Sure."

As Xiangling began rambling about her day, Michael rested his chin in his hand. Her glowing aura filled the room, easing Michael's nerves just the slightest bit. He wasn't really listening to her story, he was simply grateful for the company.

Xiangling talked proudly of her daring adventures: the way she braved the path of monsters to get to her chilis, how she saved Xingqiu from a group of bandits. As tireless as his eight months in Teyvat were, he had to say, he missed fearlessly fighting in battle. No amount of taxes and public relation scandals could ever compare to the rush he felt whenever he faced a new opponent in Teyvat. Perhaps he inherited it from Childe. The name made him tap his fingers anxiously against the couch below him.

"Xiangling! Where are you?" a voice called from outside, startling Michael out of his thoughts. How long had he been spaced out?

"Oh, crap! I forgot I was supposed to meet my dad with the chilis hours ago! Oh, Archons," Xiangling panicked as she gathered the few items she brought to Zhongli's apartment, "I'm sorry I have to cut the visit short, Mikey, I completely forgot. We'll have to catch up more later, okay? Make sure you say bye before you leave again!"

"Haha, okay. See ya'," he waved as she shut the door.

Clearing his throat, Xiao stood up, "I should take my leave as well. I'm sure the Traveler needs help in New Khaenri'ah."

"Oh, yeah," Michael lit up, "How is that place doing, anyway?"

Zhongli answered, "Very well. Lumine and the civilians are working hard to build a safe structure for the new generation of Khaenrian people. The city is growing fast, even Aether has been helping out."

"Man, I should get back there soon and help out, too," he rubbed his temple with one hand.

"We will be just fine without the extra help. You should stay here," Xiao argued, but before Michael could protest, the adeptus had already vanished from sight. Michael shook his head, his hand now on his forehead.

"He does have a point, Michael," Zhongli said, "I know you like to help everyone out, but you need to help yourself out, too. Sometimes, you need to slow down your life to truly appreciate it."

The young adult glanced up at the Archon, "Zhongli, I fucked up so bad back home, I don't even know where to begin."

"There is nothing in this world that cannot be solved. Would you like to tell me what happened?" he replied, lifting himself to sit next to Michael on the couch.

"Honestly," Michael sighed, "I just wanna talk to Kaeya and Childe. I need a break from everything, but I don't want to be alone...I think I just need to see them, and I'll feel better. I know I need to start making up a plan for what to do about my situation back home, but right now, I just want a break."

Zhongli looked at him with pity in his eyes, "I wish I could provide you with a solution, but Childe and Kaeya aren't in Liyue right now. They're in New Khaenri'ah, also helping with the reconstruction. I don't believe they'll be back for at least a few more days."

Michael scoffed in disbelief, "You're kidding. Jesus, what great timing I have."

"If you're looking for an escape from the noise, might I suggest heading to Dawn Winery? It is quiet there, and you will have Master Diluc to keep you company," Zhongli rubbed his back.

"Yeah. Yeah, I didn't think about that. Thanks, Zhongli," Michael grinned tiredly.

"Of course," the man replied, his voice soft. He stared intently at Michael, examining the bags under his eyes and the pale hue on his face. Instinctively, he brushed the young man's cheek with his thumb.

"I hope you know, you will always have a place here with me," he said, and Michael smiled gratefully up at him.

They exchanged pleasantries in the form of goodbyes, Zhongli patting the young adult's hair before he departed. In all honesty, being with Zhongli made him feel like he was thirteen again. Though, he didn't mind that much.

Michael walked to a waypoint that was just past Zhongli's apartment complex. He felt less dizzy now, which he assumed was a good sign. He found it a shame the warp to Diluc's manor was a bit of a walk, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. His legs felt numb against the weight of his body, but he tried not to let it bother him.

After he traveled through the waypoints, his fingers tingling, he opened his eyes to see the manor in view. Another small weight lifted itself from his shoulders as he ventured over to his old training area. He greeted the few workers that mingled outside as he approached the door to the manor. He bit his lip, then knocked three times on the wood.

Please be home, please be home, please be home, he begged.

The lock of the door clicked, shuffled, and opened to reveal a tall, fiery haired man standing before him. Michael was about exactly the same height as his mentor now.

"Michael?" Diluc sucked in a bit of air, "What are you doing here? I thought you weren't supposed to be back for long while."

"Yeah, guess my plans changed a bit," he joked bitterly.

Diluc studied his face. Although he didn't outwardly show it, Michael knew he was wondering about the large bags under his eyes.

"So, what brings you here?" Diluc asked, acting as if nothing was wrong, that everything seemed normal.

Michael exhaled a shaky breath, clenching his nails into his palms, "Master Diluc, I have no idea what to do right now."

"Michael, what's going on?"

Oh, how he hated that question. He avoided it by throwing his body into the man's to distract him, "Can I stay here for a little while, please? I need quiet."

"I...of course. Yes, you can stay here whenever you'd like. You know Adelinde loves to care for people," Diluc replied, hesitantly wrapping his arms around Michael's back. He patted it awkwardly.

"Thanks," Michael sniffled, wrapping his arms tighter around Diluc's body. He ducked his head into the man's shoulder, breathing unsteadily into the fabric.

The man seemed to relax into the hug after that. He ran his nails gently across a small section of Michael's back as he cooed, "It's alright, Michael, you're safe here. Nothing is going to harm you. I will keep you safe. You have nothing to worry about."

***

Back at home, Sammy, Charlie, Elizabeth, and Evan peaked through the railings on the landing to see what was happening. Henry opened the door slowly, revealing two police officers.

"Hurricane police," one flashed a badge, "Are you Henry Emily, sir?"

"That is me."

"We have reason to suspect you have some involvement in the murder which occurred approximately five days ago on Monday at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza. Do you have any information about this event?"

"Yes, I do. Unfortunately, I'm not the killer you're looking for. However, I..." the letter shook in Henry's hands; he gripped it tightly to prevent the police from seeing, "I have information on who might be."

He passed the letter over to the police, a few tears falling down his cheeks.

"Please, excuse me," he apologized, wiping the moisture under his eyes with a handkerchief.

"Please try to stay calm sir, this is a formal investigation," one of the men spoke condescendingly, and Henry reeled back.

"Do you have any kids, officer?" he asked quietly.

"I..." the cop began, but instead shook his head and didn't answer.

"Imagine if one of them turned out to be a murderer," Henry started yelling, "My son might be a murder! How do you think I feel?!"

"Sir! I said stay calm!" the other cop barked, "As I understand, this 19-year-old is not your son, rather the son of William Afton. Am I correct?"

Henry grimaced, "William was a deadbeat dad who might as well have been absent for all anyone cared. They would've been better off without him. You're damn right he is my son because I raised him for nineteen years! And I will keep raising him no matter what!"

"Yes, well, you may not get the chance!" the second cop retorted, "If this confession letter is real, then your son is going to prison. Do you understand?"

Henry's throat ran dry. He knew he would have to choose eventually, but he wished it would never come. He wished these words would never have to leave his mouth. Michael Afton, his first child, the boy who had been abused time and time again yet still kept fighting. All the Afton kids did. Henry knew none of them would ever be capable of an act so cruel, but how could he be sure? Besides, if the police started suspecting Henry, there would be only one other person to take care of the children. Henry loved his wife, but she couldn't care for four children on her own. Besides, he wanted—perhaps even needed—to stay with his children right now. He knew they needed him, too. Thus, he made his choice.

"The confession is real," Henry swallowed back tears, "He stopped by this morning to drop it off."

Henry kept his information short to avoid saying the wrong thing. Upstairs, Evan turned away from the railings and leaned his back against them, feeling sick. He slapped a hand over his mouth to prevent the cops from hearing his cries.

"Michael Afton was here?"

"Yes," Henry's head fell, "He is gone now. He ran out of the house, and he ran fast. He left me and his siblings in shock."

"Gather a search party," the first officer told his partner, "While he does that, I just want to interview you and your kids a little bit. Is it alright if I come in?"

"Sure. I don't think I have much of a choice," Henry stepped away from the door, allowing the officer to walk into the house. He surveyed the area, walking through a short hallway with a bench built into the wall. On the right was a family room with a small, boxy television, and in front was the dining room table next to a small kitchen. Off of the dining room table on the left side sat the living room. He passed the stairs just after he walked past the bench, but before he crossed over into the kitchen.

"It's a small place for a family of seven," the officer commented.

"Six. Michael lives in his own apartment," Henry glared, "We made it work when he was living here."

The officer placed his hand on one of the kitchen chairs, "Let's sit down, shall we?"

As the men slid into their seats, they heard shuffling from upstairs. Although the words were incoherent whispers, it was clear that someone was in the landing.

"Evan," Elizabeth nudged her brother's shoulder, "Evan, calm down."

His head fell against the bars holding up the railing, "I can't do it—I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't."

"We're here, Ev, we're right here," Sammy slid across the floor to sit on the other side of the youngest teenager.

While Evan shook his hands out, Henry pulled the officer's attention back to him, "I'm sorry—it's just my kids. Like you said, the house is small. Sounds travel relatively quickly. They all should be in their rooms."

Elizabeth lifted Evan, carrying him around her shoulder. She addressed the twins, "Let's go to the guest room."

The police officer shook his head, "Anyway, you are Mr. Henry Emily...and just for the record, you are African American, yes?"

"If you say so," he sassed, then, "Yes."

"And your kids are also African American, and the Aftons are mixed Hispanic and White, right?"

"Uh, yes?" Henry frowned, "I can't see how this has anything to do with the situation at ha—"

"Mr. Emily," the police officer interjected, "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be provided for you at government expense. Understand?"

I don't want a lawyer, I want you out of my house, Henry wanted to say, but instead he replied, "Yes. Let's continue with the interview, please."

The officer pulled out a small notepad and began writing, "So, how long were you Mr. Michael Afton's legal guardian?"

"Five years, but I've been in his life since he was born. Since he turned eighteen, I'm not technically his guardian anymore, but still treats me like a father. I haven't gone longer than two weeks without seeing him, at his restaurant or otherwise," Henry answered.

"Would you say you know him well?"

"Yes."

"Has Mr. Afton ever displayed aggressive behavior?"

Henry's mouth ran dry, "Well, yes—but—but he was just a child. After his mother died, he became a very angry boy. He was so young at the time, maybe—I don't know—eight? Nine? He was old enough to know what was happening, but young enough to throw various tantrums and what not. He became very distant with his siblings, and he was especially cold and uncaring towards his little brother, Evan. But something changed when he was thirteen. When I saw him again, he was kind...and caring. I've seen him with my kids; he tries to solve every problem they have. I worried about him all throughout his time in high school because of it. He used to do it so much that he often fainted."

"These aggressive behaviors," the officer ignored his last statement, "What did they manifest in? Hitting, teasing...?"

"Lots of teasing, but no hitting other than the occasional push,” he tapped his fingers against the table, “But Mike and Evan are brothers, that's the kind of thing that they do. I roughhoused with my siblings when I was young."

"So, in your opinion, Mr. Michael Afton was a normal kid and a normal adult?"

"Despite everything he endured, yes, somehow he turned out quite normal. Great, even. I've known many people his age, even older, that are much more distant with their families than him," Henry's mouth lifted into a small smile, "He's a good kid."

"They're all 'good kids', Mr. Emily," the officer huffed under his breath, "Now, do you mind if I interview one of your kids?"

"Alright," he sighed, "Let me go see how they're feeling."

"I'll just follow you, Mr. Emily."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Henry walked in front of the officer, "Okay, just...stand behind me, okay?"

Henry walked up the stairs, passing Sammy's room as he took a turn to the left. At the end of a short hallway, he placed the back of his hand on the guest room door. He hesitated, trying to see if he could hear their conversation before he knocked.

The room was uncharacteristically quiet, hushed whispers being the only thing Henry could hear. No coherent words came out. Dejected, the man let his shoulders drop; never did he think he would see the day that all of his children were scared into silence.

Soft and slow, he knocked on the door, awaiting an answer. Just as he was about to knock again, Charlie opened the door.

"Hi," she whispered, "Sorry, Ev fell asleep."

The police officer peered over Henry's shoulder to see Evan laying on the bed, his eyes screwed shut. Even in his sleep, his eyebrows were furrowed. Elizabeth held his head in her lap, stroking his curly locks. Sammy lay next to them, breathing unsteadily with an arm over his eyes. Although he didn't move to address the open door, Elizabeth lifted her head to look directly at the officer. His eyes widened, knowing her face from case file photos, but never seeing it for himself.

"He just needs to interview one of you," Henry continued, "Is anyone...uh...feeling up to it?"

Charlie glanced over her shoulder; with the positions everyone was in now, there was no way they were moving. Frankly, she saw no reason for them to.

"I'll do it," she agreed, stepping past the doorway.

"It would be nice if I could interview one of the Aftons," the officer spoke condescendingly.

Charlie shut the door behind herself, now speaking in her regular tone of voice, "I'm sorry, but one is sleeping and the other is exhausted. They don't want to do an interview, and even if they did, they won't give you good answers in that state. It's best if I do it. Plus, I'm older than Lizzie, so technically I've known Mike the longest."

The officer sighed, "Alright, alright, fine. I can't guarantee, though, that we won't interview them in the future."

"And in the future, they will be ready for that interview. As of right now, it's just me," Charlie said as she walked down the stairs, "We're sitting at the dining room table, right?"

The officer nodded, slumping down in the seat in front of her. Oh, how he hated doing these interviews.

Chapter Text

"Here you go, Mike," Adelinde placed a mug of hot chocolate on the table in front of him.

"Thank you," Michael smiled warmly.

"Yes, thank you, Adelinde," Diluc agreed, grabbing a glass of grape juice from her hands, "Would you like to turn in for the night? Or are you heading home today?"

The maid glanced around the house, seeing all the other servants had left for the day. She glanced at her door, the room that was saved specifically for her, the head housemaid.

"I'll stay tonight," she teased, "Who else will look out for you two?"

"We are full grown adults, Adelinde, I think we can manage," Diluc sassed.

"Yes, you'd set something on fire the moment I left you alone. Goodnight!"

Adelinde walked briskly to her bedroom door, closing it before Diluc could argue. He chuckled and rubbed his forehead.

"Ever the protector..." he mumbled under his breath, "Anyway, what were you saying? Something about the situation with Jeremy?"

"Yeah," Michael's shoulders slumped, "Scary things just keep happening, and I don't know why. I've tried to do everything I could, make sure everything's in order, I mean I-I'm stressed all the time! Why isn't it enough?"

"The things that happen at your restaurant aren't necessarily your fault," Diluc reasoned sympathetically, "Sometimes, there are factors you simply cannot control."

Michael raised his voice just the slightest bit, "Diluc, they think I'm a murderer."

"What? Why?" he asked hastily, then faltered, "You're not, are you?"

"Of course not! But I had to confess to it, otherwise they would suspect my uncle, and I just—I don't want my family involved. They've been through enough already, but come on—" he inhaled to control his emotions, "I don't want to be blamed for this. I didn't do it."

"Michael..." Diluc whispered, grasping at the straws in his brain to find the right words. At the same time, Michael leaned back in his chair, breathing in the steam of his mug. They sat in a tense silence, Diluc picking at his nails.

"Well, that was an incredibly stupid thing you did."

"I had to!" he defended.

"No, Michael, you didn't," Diluc argued, "Now that you've confessed, there's someone out there—a real murderer—running free in your town. Do you think that protects your family more than a bit of inspection?"

The legs of Michael's chair slammed onto the floor as he hunched forward in realization. Diluc watched closely as he pursed his lips.

"Shit," Michael threw his forehead into his hand, hitting the table, "Shit!"

"Please stop hitting my table," the man responded so nonchalantly, Michael thought it could be a joke until Diluc leaned closer to him, "Michael, calm down."

He threw his hands out, "What do I do? Do I go back?"

Diluc sucked in a breath, "Well, I would say yes, but there are legal repercussions to your actions. Also, you seem very unstable right now—"

"Oh, thanks—"

"—so perhaps you should relax for one night," the man finished pointedly, "Law enforcement won't believe you if you're acting crazy. And, like I said, you already confessed. So you have a disadvantage there, too."

With a sigh, Michael slid slowly onto the table, tucking his head into his elbows. He groaned softly as he closed his eyes. If he shut them hard enough, maybe he would forget about everything, and all of his problems would go away. Oh, to be as free as he was at thirteen.

Diluc gazed sympathetically and ran his finger along his mug. He knew it was a tough situation, but in his mind, the right thing to do was always to take responsibility for your actions, no matter the situation. And certainly not take responsibility for someone else's actions. He lifted himself from the table, stopping to place a hand on Michael's back as he made his way to his room.

"Justice will be served accordingly. This person will be caught, even if it takes years. Don't get ahead of yourself—you haven't ruined everything just yet," Diluc patted the young adult, "Go to bed, Michael. We'll deal with it in the morning."

***

Charlie sat in her room, installing a new wig in her hair. She focused in the thick silence, making sure her every movement was precise, calculated, and—

"Hey," someone pushed open her door, standing in the frame.

Charlie jumped, her hands slipping away from the wig. She looked in the mirror at her door, her eyes landing on one of her brothers. Annoyed, she sighed, "Hi, Mike. You're up early."

"I guess," he shrugged, walking over to Charlie's vanity. He twisted a strand of the long, silky locks in his fingers, "I like your curly hair better."

She made a poker face, "Did you need something, Mike?"

Chuckling, he took a step back, "Sorry, sorry. Nah, I didn't need anything, I just—uh—had a weird dream..."

"Oh? What about?" Charlie looked at his eyes in the mirror.

"Don't worry about it," Michael grinned, leaning against the wall, "I'm gonna make breakfast. Want anything?"

She was silent for a moment, then spoke in a small voice, "Corned beef hash?"

"You got it."

"Wait—Mike," she spun around on the stool she was sitting on, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, really," he put his hands up in surrender, "I'll go start breakfast. Have fun doing your...wig...stuff?"

"Okay..." she resigned, "Well, I'm here if you need anything."

"Alright. Love you," Michael waved as he walked out of the room.

"Love you," Charlie replied, turning back to her mirror.

"Charlotte?" the cop snapped a finger in her face, "I need you to pay attention if we're going to complete this interview."

"Oh—yeah," her lip curled at the dig, but she dropped it. If Sammy were here, though...

"My question was," the officer paused to make sure she was listening, "do you believe Michael Afton could commit such an act?"

Charlie's head raced. Michael, her friend since birth, her brother, a murderer?

Her mouth hung open as she pondered, then she licked her lips, "No—I mean, I don't think so. I just can't see someone like him doing something so horrible."

"And what is he like?" the officer leaned his elbows on the table.

"Um...loyal. Astoundingly loyal, and loving, and very intelligent, too. With numbers, that is. He's a complete idiot when it comes to real life," she rolled her eyes, huffing out a laugh, "I should give him more credit, though. He made a life for himself at nineteen. He got lucky, sure, but he still works really hard. He loves the kids that come into his restaurant—he would never do anything to hurt them."

"But he had troubles with his younger brother Evan, correct? He has an aggressive past against children."

"That's his brother," Charlie fought, "My brother and I were like that when we were young, too. Plus, he stopped when he was thirteen. Thirteen."

"Did Michael Afton ever hurt you?" the officer challenged, and suddenly, Charlie felt the air slip out of her lungs.

"Mike, give it back!"

"Shut up, Charlie, I'm taking it and there's nothing you can do 'cause you're just a girl!"

She tilted her head at the officer, her eyebrows furrowing.

"I'll—I'll hit you! I—...ugh, just give it back, it's my doll!"

"Come and get it, little girl."

"Stop!"

"What are you trying to get at?" Charlie asked darkly to the man.

"C'mon, do something about it."

"It's just a question, Miss Emily."

"Fine. I will!"

"Well, if it really matters—"

"Ow! Crap—alright, little girl, eye for an eye!"

"—he..."

"Ow! Ahhh! Daddy!"

Another memory flashed in her head; Michael was thirteen, it was the night after he came home. He was laying across the couch while Charlie sat in an arm chair next to him.

"Hey, Char?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you remember when you were younger, and I...uh..."

"You punched me? Yeah, I remember."

She remembered how his eyes fell, how he tried to pretend he was watching the TV, but when he spaced out it was clear. Instead of the screen, his eyes landed on the grey box surrounding it.

"I'm sorry."

The blue light in his eyes almost hid the redness. Almost. And even though she wasn't before, she thought she couldn't be mad at him. He was one of her best friends.

"Oh. Um...well, I'm not mad. It was a long time ago."

"I know, but I shouldn't have—...I dunno, I'm just...really sorry. I hope you're not afraid of me."

"Hehe, of course I'm not afraid of you, Mikey. Thanks for the apology, though."

"Yeah. Least I could do."

"—he hit me one time when we were kids. I was five or six, he must've been eight. His mom had just died. In my entire life, he has only ever laid a hand on me once, and never again."

"Two children he has shown aggression against..." the cop scribbled on his notepad, "Miss Charlotte, does this not seem suspicious to you? Why are you defending him when you know he has hurt people, including yourself?"

Flabbergasted, she shook her head, "He was a kid! I'm telling you, my brother is not a bad person. He was dealt the short end of the stick. His dad was abusive and his mom was only around for a little while. He was just following what he was taught."

"And by brother you mean Mr. Michael Afton, your friend?"

"No," she glared, "I mean Mr. Michael Afton, my brother."

The officer chuckled dismissively, "You're gonna die on this hill, huh? Alright. So, what do you mean his father was abusive?"

Charlie licked her lips, "He told me what his father did—William Afton, my uncle. He said that he hit him. I don't know to what extent. You'd have to talk to Evan and Elizabeth."

"Would you bring them downstairs?"

"They don't want to be interviewed," Henry stepped back into the room from the stairs, "Not now, at least. Come back later. Are you almost done interviewing my daughter?"

The officer glanced at Henry, then back at Charlie. Both of them glared pointedly at him.

"I...can see there's some tension here. Perhaps I should take my leave," the officer walked to the door, the confession note in his hand. When he placed his fingertips on the door knob, he turned back around.

"We already have a confession note, and that's enough to close the case and determine it was him who was the killer. But if you are all adamant that he isn't, then find him. Perhaps he can explain this to us."

Then, the officer finally left, and Charlie could breathe again. She exhaled, and her father placed a hand on her back. She smiled up at him and leaned onto his torso, still sitting in her chair.

"I hope it's not him," she whispered as she closed her eyes.

"I'm sure it isn't, though I wish he hadn't run away."

"Daddy, why would he confess if he didn't do it?"

Henry rubbed her back, "I dunno, baby. Your brother is...not the most intelligent. You know that."

Charlie snorted as Henry continued:

"But, by his letter, I would guess he did it to keep us out of the situation. I'm not sure that his plan worked the way he wanted it to."

Upstairs, a door creaked open, and the carpet shuffled. A pink-socked foot stepped on the top staircase. Henry and Charlie turned their attention to the person.

"Are the police gone yet?" Elizabeth yawned as she came into view from the bottom of the staircase.

"The interviewer left," Charlie shrugged.

Elizabeth moved toward the front door, tugging back the sheer curtain that covered the door's thin window. She watched the black and white police car back out of her driveway, then speed away.

"I think there's still a search party running around the forest by the house," Charlie added.

"Ugh," Elizabeth clicked her tongue, "They should mind their own business."

"They're trying to keep our town safe," Henry reasoned.

"They never seem to actually help," she argued, leaning on the armrest of one of the chairs. She thought about the day the police came to her house when she was young, sent by a neighbor. They heard Michael's shrill screams as he fought back against William, and his screams were amplified by her own begging her father to stop.

"There are legal repercussions to everything. It's not as cut and dry as we would like to believe," her uncle snapped her out of her thoughts. Elizabeth looked at him with big, hopeless eyes, then averted her gaze.

"I guess."

Silent, Charlie tiptoed out of her seat and walked to meet Elizabeth on the other side of the table. She tucked Elizabeth's hair gingerly behind her ear, stroking her neck, shoulder, and back with an angelic touch. Elizabeth turned and wrapped Charlie in a tight hug, her face scrunched to fight her tears. Charlie placed two limp arms around her, one on one shoulder and the other positioned on the opposite shoulder so she could twist Elizabeth's loose curls in her fingers.

And neither said a word, because no words needed to be exchanged between sisters.

Chapter Text

Like any normal day, the sun set in the evening, as if nothing was wrong at all. Elizabeth glared out the window at the black sky before her. The television rang in her ears, something short of sitcom laughter. Next to her chair was a couch, and next to that couch was another chair. While she averted her gaze to the window, the others chatted amongst themselves.

Evan flopped back onto the couch, stretching horizontally across it, "We're so screwed. We’re actually so screwed."

"It's not all bad," Charlie argued.

"Charlie, what's good about—uh—any of this?" he sassed while tracing the ceiling with his eyes.

Sighing, she nestled into a chair next to him, "I just meant that things aren't totally hopeless."

"Eh, nah, they're pretty hopeless," Sammy perched on the left arm of the couch by Evan's head.

"Yup."

Sammy ruffled the younger teen's hair, "Better hope Mikey's got some dumb ass plan again, bubs."

"He never thinks before he acts!" Evan ran his hands across his face, "Ugh, he's—like—the stupidest person ever!"

"Can you please stop shouting?" Elizabeth snapped from her chair, "You're all giving me a headache."

"Sorry, your majesty. We're just kinda stressed, y'know, the cops think our brother is a murderer," Sammy sneered.

She crossed her arms, "Whining isn't going to help."

Smirking, he gritted his teeth, "Yeah, well, bitching won't help either, yet here we are."

"Excuse me?" Elizabeth shot up from her seat, standing with her arms tight at her side. Charlie mimicked her movements and stood from her chair as well, putting her hands out in surrender.

"Just calm down, guys—" she tried to reason, but Elizabeth cut her off.

"What's your problem, Sam?" the girl yelled, "I get it, you like messing with other people and being a jerk, but is now really the time?! Are you fucking dense?! Get it into your thick skull—"

Sammy's face ran red, "Well, you're just yelling at everybody! Do you think any of us are happy with you right now? You're being a dick!"

As Elizabeth gasped, Evan stood between the two, "Hey, stop—"

"You don't get it! You'd never understand, he's not your brother! He's mine! He is not your brother!"

And then, the world stopped spinning.

At least, to Sammy it did. He inhaled sharply, his eyes wide, leaning back just the tiniest bit. His eyes shook as the house turned into a blur around him. All the hours playing video games, doing homework, even just sitting next to each other...did they not mean anything?

"Sam?"

"Mike?"

Cold, he shivered, as if someone had walked through him. Suddenly, he was watching himself from the outside, a memory from three years ago.

"Go away," he grumbled, and Michael snickered. He laughed, the smallest little sound. Of course he had the audacity...

"If you're just going to make fun of me, then go!"

"Sorry," the older teen resigned, "You just sound like one of those whiny kids in the movies."

"Get out, Mike!" Sammy snapped.

"Hey, hey, cool it, bud. I didn't mean anything by it," Michael sat down on the edge of the bed. The bright green sheets Sammy used to have stretched under his weight. He tried to pull the blanket back towards him, but Michael unknowingly shifted farther back onto the mattress. Sammy, the real one, watched as Michael gazed at his younger self with kind eyes. He reached a hand out to pet Sammy's hair, but hesitated and pulled it back.

"What's going on, bubs? You've been quiet all day."

Sammy scoffed out a laugh at the nickname while his younger self snarled, "Nothing, I'm fine!"

His brother—no, Michael?—Michael sighed, "Okay. Can I just stay here with you for a little while?"

"I'm not five, Michael, I can handle myself," he glanced at the clock next to his bed: 6:37, "Don't you have a party with your football friends today?"

"Eh, I can be a little late, no worries," he shrugged.

Sammy picked at the thin sheets below him, "How's football practice?"

"Good. I'm having a lot of fun, actually. Coach says I'm doing better, which is good, I think."

Sammy growled, shoving his head further into his pillow. He lifted his forearm to cover his face, and Michael raised an eyebrow.

"Is this about basketball? Do you wanna—?"

"I'll never be good enough for them!" Sammy blurted angrily, and Michael's eyebrows raised into his hairline. The real Sammy cringed at his past self and all the emotions that seeped through.

"What? What are you talking about, you're the best on your team. All the upperclassmen have been saying you'll be the next Danny Jiang."

Again, current Sammy and past Sammy were at odds. Current Sammy let out a laugh, remembering Danny Jiang as one of the best players at their high school, although he didn't quite make the grades that Sammy did.

Past Sammy groaned, "You're just saying that! The coach is so hard on me, I'm not doing good enough! He always has something to say, but I—I just want him to like me!"

"Sam, he's only hard on you because he wants to see you succeed. My coach did the same thing when we were freshmen, he wanted to see if we would be able to take on more than we were. And we did. Trust me, Sam, you're doing great. Everyone can see it."

He shifted onto his back, turning his head to look at Michael. He searched Michael's eyes for any sign of deceit, but Michael simply smiled.

He sniffled, "Really?"

"Uh-huh," Michael nodded, running a hand down the younger teen's face.

"Ah, quit it!" Sammy swatted him away.

"Just keep your cool, and you'll be the best basketball player our high school has ever seen," he shot up from the mattress, "Okay, I really should go now. All those pretty ladies waiting for me at the party, y'know? Can't disappoint the girls."

"They definitely aren't waiting for you, you pig," Elizabeth glared as she walked passed Sammy's bedroom door.

"Ah..." Michael scratched his neck while Sammy laughed, loud and hearty.

"What's going on down here? Why is there so much yelling?"

Sammy blinked, pulled from his short trance. Elizabeth looked at him, her face almost contorting into an expression of regret, but she quickly hardened.

"Nothing, Auntie."

"Yeah. Nothing," Sammy spat in her face as he lifted himself from the couch, "I was just heading to bed. Night, Ma."

He walked swiftly up the stairs, walking past his mother before she could even call out to him. She watched as he slammed his door shut, then turned back to the three teenagers in the living room.

"You need to be there for each other," she crossed her arms, "You're all upset right now. Fighting amongst yourselves will only add more stress."

"We know, mama. Things are just...hard right now," Charlie spoke for the two Aftons. Elizabeth dug her nails into her palms, feeling Evan's glare on her skin.

Alice exhaled, "I know. I'm sorry this is happening to us."

None of the kids said anything.

"Hm..." she hummed, dejected, "Well, I'm going to go back upstairs. Your father and I will be sleeping in our room if any of you need anything. Don't be afraid to knock."

She glanced over them one last time, then took gentle steps back up the staircase. When the bedroom door latched, Evan put a hand on Elizabeth's sleeve.

"What were you thinking?" he whispered, "Why would you say something like that?"

"I—he—well—" she sputtered, placing a hand on her forehead, "I don't know, okay?"

"You should really apologize to him," Charlie added.

"I know! I know that," Elizabeth flopped into the couch cushions, pulling her knees to her chest and running her hands down her face, "Shit..."

"He can't stay mad forever. He'll forgive you if you apologize," Evan sat sideways on Charlie's chair, leaning into its back. She rested her hand on her palm next to where he was sitting. Evan gazed down at her, then turned to Elizabeth again.

"Did you mean that? What you said?" he asked meekly.

She exploded from her hands, "No! I mean, I don't think so?"

"I've always considered you guys my siblings," Charlie lamented, "I'm sure he does, too."

"So do I!" she stressed, "I have no idea why I said that..."

Her gaze hardened, "You wanted to hurt him."

"I—" Elizabeth swallowed her excuses, turning away guiltily, "Yeah. I guess I did."

A silence settled over them as Charlie's eyes darted around the floor, searching for an answer to all of their problems. She was failing, she knew she was, but she stayed strong.

"Give him some time," she finally said, "Try apologizing tomorrow. Just leave him alone for tonight."

With that, Charlie ruffled Evan's hair, then headed upstairs to her room. She left Evan and Elizabeth alone by the television. It let out a sitcom-esque laugh, and Evan huffed.

"I wish you wouldn't say stuff like that," he said earnestly, "Your outbursts can really hurt people, y'know? Words can be painful, too. It's a different hurt than—like—a punch. Sammy probably would've taken that better than what you said."

Elizabeth wrapped her arms around her legs, "I'm trying my best."

"So are we," Evan argued, striking a nerve in her heart. Her chin fell to her knees, and although she didn't cry, she could feel something pulling at her chest.

She wasn’t accustomed to solving problems. Michael always seemed to have some sort of plan for any major inconvenience. However, she was being faced with an issue that seemed impossible to figure out on her own. She had no way to reach Michael, either. He left her behind.

What would he do? If it was one of them, Evan or Elizabeth, how would he solve the situation? When it came to them, he was stubborn to keep them safe. Surely he would do something.

As the credits of one show faded out, a cartoon started playing on the television, it's theme song ringing in her ears. She saw the characters of the show, recognizing its people and its plot.

Finally, the world seemed clear to her. She knew what she had to do.

Chapter Text

Diluc stood on the stone pavement of his manor. He tapped his foot, waiting impatiently for something to arrive.

"Hm..." he grunted disapprovingly.

"Master Diluc? Why do you keep coming out here?" Michael walked next to Diluc, crossing his arms, "Is the landscape really that interesting?"

The man huffed, "Go pick your rations, murderer."

"Whoa, too soon..." Michael slumped, but went over to the grapes to start picking.

Diluc glanced at Michael from the corner of his eye. Five days the boy had been here, and nothing, save for a couple picked grapes. No word from Yanfei about her whereabouts, no helping hand knocking at the door...Diluc insisted that if Michael stay with him, he would be put to work. He refused to raise a lazy adult. Or was Michael a hardworking adult, who needed a break? He put a hand on his forehead, feeling the headache pulse in his brain. Perhaps he was in need of a break, too.

"I received a letter yesterday evening," Adelinde smiled as she walked outside, "I would've told you about it, but you were asleep."

"I must get my sleeping habits under control, then."

She shook her head, "You're a tired man, Master Diluc. I'm happy when you get a wink of sleep."

He stayed silent, so she continued, "It's a nice day, isn't it?"

"It's rare that we don't have days like these," Diluc argued, putting his hand out to mime feeling rain; the sun continued shining, and no water fell into his hands, "What did your letter say?"

"Only good news. I should start breakfast—I will inform you after."

Before Diluc could respond, Adelinde was heading back into the manor, leaving him alone on his large porch. He blinked at the door, murmuring to himself, "I suppose that's fine, then."

As Diluc turned back to the hills, Michael stole a grape from the vines. He popped it into his mouth, keeping on sly eye on Diluc. This was the only payment the man would give him; surely one grape wouldn't be missed from the batch.

As he went to pick more grapes, he saw something in the distance. Two figures were gliding away from the waypoint near Diluc's manor. They flew towards the vines, Michael putting his hand on his sword in preparation.

"Oh!" Diluc ran behind Michael, watching the figures in the sky. Michael removed his hand from his blade at the positive recognition.

"Are you expecting someone?" he asked, standing up straight.

"Yes, you could say that," the man shielded his eyes with his hand, "Perhaps you should go check who it is."

The two figures landed behind the trees which shielded their figures. Michael walked towards them and heard their hastened steps on the ground. He stopped in his tracks, waiting with a raised eyebrow for his perpetrators to attack.

One of them rounded a tree, panting at its side. He looked up to see Michael with a beaming grin.

"Mike!" he called, sprinting so fast that Michael could have sworn he may have teleported the short distance. He engulfed the young man in his arms, hugging him loosely.

"Hi, Kaeya," Michael leaned into his shoulder, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes, "You wouldn't believe how glad I am to see you."

"Wait up—I'm here, too!" Childe yelled as he passed the tree that Kaeya was leaning on. He crashed into the pair, pulling them both into a bone crushing hug.

Michael coughed, "Childe—crushing—"

"Sorry," he pulled away, scratching his neck bashfully, "I just missed you, is all. It's been a long time since you visited."

"Are you okay? Did anyone hurt you?" Kaeya stepped back to examine Michael's arms, flipping them over.

As Michael pulled his arms back, he chuckled, "I'm fine, really."

Kaeya glanced at the basket of grapes next to him and snickered, turning to Diluc, "Tsk tsk, putting Mike to work as your guest? How inhospitable, Diluc."

Diluc glared at his brother, but when Kaeya smiled slyly, so did he. He hung back at the porch, watching the reunion between the three men.

"Diluc told us everything in the letter he sent us," Childe explained, "I'm sorry it took us so long, we came as soon as we got news of your situation. It's a little difficult to receive mail in New Khaenri'ah as no one's set up a formal system for it yet."

"I'm just happy you guys are here," Michael wiped a tear that hadn't quite fallen out of his eye yet, "It's been rough, y'know."

Though he chuckled, Childe and Kaeya could see past the facade. Childe, his heart falling to his stomach, opened his arms for the young man. Lazily, Michael locked his arms under Childe's and rested his head on the man's shoulder.

"It's okay, Mike, we're here now. We'll get you out of this," Childe held the back of his head in his hand, running this thumb in circles.

Kaeya placed a hand on his back, "We're here to help. We always are."

Michael scoffed out a laugh; even if he never had good parents, somehow, he got the best surrogate brothers. Though, he wasn't sure he truly deserved it. If his opinion mattered, he did not.

***

Elizabeth clicked on the web browser on the boxy family computer. For as much money as her uncle spent on it, she didn't think it was all that great. As the web browser gave out, leaving an error message on the screen, she slammed her hands on the desk.

"Damnit!" she entangled a hand in her hair. Immediately after, she powered the computer all the way off, upset with its performance. She slid down from her chair to the floor, sitting in piles of magazines. A notebook in hand, she covered her face in the cool sheets of paper.

"Liz?" Evan opened the door cautiously, "You okay?"

"I'm fine, get out, Ev," she grumbled into the notebook.

He made a poker face as he shut Henry's office door and sat next to her, papers all around, "I know what you're doing, Liz."

"What?" she snapped her head to him.

"If you really want to keep a secret, you should probably delete your tabs after you finish using them."

"Shit..." she leaned her head back onto the seat of the chair, "Who else knows?"

"Just me. I deleted the tabs for you," he picked up one of the newspapers, its headline reading 'Teen Murderer in Hurricane?', "You're not gonna find anything useful no matter how hard you look. The police are only going to release as little information as they can. They usually d that—they’re afraid to falsely accuse someone. Right now, they're just saying that he's on the run and they would like people to send information on his whereabouts if they have it. Past that, it's all speculation and headlining."

Elizabeth stayed silent, blinking through her red hot anger, and Evan spoke again, "I also know what you're planning."

"You can't be serious," she scoffed.

"'Can you get in trouble for going to a crime scene?'" he read, from memory, one of her questions on the tab, "I mean, seriously, Liz. I'm your brother, it's not hard for me to figure you out."

"Yeah, so what? You can't stop me," Elizabeth retorted, her nose held high.

"Well, yeah, I could. I could tell Uncle and Auntie. They wouldn't let you go out alone, if at all," Evan shrugged.

His sister scowled at him, spitting with venom in her voice, "Don't."

"I'm not going to," Evan put his hands up in surrender, "There's no reason you would get in trouble for going to Freddy's. The crime scene is open, they couldn't keep it closed for that long."

Elizabeth's eyes widened with hope, "How do you know?"

"While you were cooped up in here, I was with everyone else. Uncle was talking about how Michael had written him to take back ownership of the restaurant if something happened. He's supervising Freddy's now, and apparently they took down the crime scene and opened back up two days ago. It's been almost a week, once they collected all the evidence, they didn't need the place anymore."

"That's perfect!" she shot up, tripping over papers to get to the door, "I'll just have to—"

"Hold on," Evan demanded, and his sister stopped in her tracks.

"What?" she replied, exasperated.

"I won't tell Uncle you're getting involved under one condition: you let me come with you."

She snorted, "Yeah, right. It's too dangerous for you."

"No, it's too dangerous for you," he pushed himself up, joining her by the door, "At least if you have me, I'll be watching your back. We'll look out for each other. It's much safer than whatever your plan is, trying to solve everything on your own."

"Well—I—" she huffed, "I don't need help."

Evan shrugged, "Then I guess I have to tell Uncle."

"Okay! Stop—fine. You can come with me. But please, for the love of everything, don't mess this up."

"So long as you don't give away the plan, I won't mess anything up," he grinned cheekily.

"I'm sure," she rolled her eyes, "Now, we have to get to Freddy's before it closes. It's already been a week—the faster we solve this, the better."

"I'm with you," Evan grinned a bit, following his sister out of the room.

***

A woman sat on a picnic blanket in the grass, her purple hair stroking its blades. She blew the steam away from a cup of tea, watching it blow into the wind.

"How are you doing today, Ei?" another woman asked from behind her.

"It's strange...Miko, I have the slightest feeling that something might be wrong."

"Well, there is peace in Inazuma now..." Yae grinned, "Perhaps it is that? Are you thinking of stirring up trouble again?"

"No, no..." Ei sighed, "I am glad there is peace, and I don't feel as though our peace is endangered, I just...there's an energy..."

Yae looked at her friend with empathetic eyes, then tapped her chin, "Actually, I've felt something strange, too. I remember feeling this way some years ago, but it went away after a while."

She took a sip of her tea, "Does it remind you of Klaharia?"

"Klaharia?" Yae scoffed, "I haven't seen that girl in years. How could she have possibly returned?"

"Maybe not her exactly..."

In her annoyance, Yae drew her ears closer into her head, "You're being vague, Ei."

"Ah, my apologies—I will explain everything in time. For now, though, we must wait. I'd rather investigate further before I disappoint myself."

As Ei walked away, Yae shook her head, "Mysterious as ever."

Chapter Text

"Well, we're here," Evan observed, opening his arms towards the Fazbear establishment, "What do you wanna do now?"

Humming, Elizabeth rubbed her chin, "How does any good investigation start?"

"Um..." Evan scratched his neck, "We could start outside? Maybe the killer dropped something on their way in or out."

"Yeah, good idea!" she beamed as she ran over to the rocks that surrounded the establishment. She kicked at them with her foot, checking for something buried in the stones.

Evan walked towards the pavement in front of the door and sidestepped for the family that walked out. They gave him a judgmental glance, but he simply waved at them through his embarrassment.

As he stepped towards his sister, he whispered, "Hey, maybe this wasn't a great idea—"

"Look!" Elizabeth cut him off, holding a rock in front of his nose, "Do you see it?"

Squinting, he tilted his head, "There's a...a red dot on it?"

She dropped the stone into the pocket of Michael's letterman jacket, which she had stolen from his apartment months ago, "The police must have missed this before they left. It could be blood from the killer. Maybe the girl put up a fight."

"I would," Evan cringed, "It could just be paint. Didn't they remodel recently?"

"I'll keep it just in case. Why don't you try to find something? Y'know, be useful?" she teased, raising an eyebrow at him.

He crossed his arms, searching the ground for anything he could pick up, "I...um...oh—I found this coin!"

"Is it heads or tails?"

Evan flipped the dime in his hands, "Tails..."

"Just put it down, it doesn't mean anything," Elizabeth waved him off.

"I'll keep it just in case," he mumbled, mimicking her words. After he slipped it into his back pocket, he traced his finger on the brick wall in front of him, "You think he'll show up soon?"

Elizabeth paused, her hands about to grab another rock, "Who, Mike?"

"Mm."

"Uh...I dunno. It's hard to tell," she stood again, kicking at rocks, "Maybe he will?"

While Elizabeth talked, Evan caught his finger on a brick that stuck out from the others.

"Either way, we can't count on it. He needs help now, and he's not here, so we have to do it."

Furrowing his brow, Evan gripped the edge of the brick with the tips of his fingers.

"It can't be so hard, right? If detectives can do it, why can't we?"

He ignored the doubt in her voice, pulling the brick towards himself. After a few heaves, he loosened one side of it.

"Mike better be grateful for us when he gets back."

"Liz!" Evan interrupted her train of thought.

"What—oh, holy crap!" her eyes widened as she ran two steps to meet her brother. He held the brick in his hands, gently placing it on the floor.

"Maybe this isn't hopeless after all," he chuckled. Elizabeth, tranced in his work, looked at the hole where the brick once sat. There was a small note, pristine and white. To her, it looked like it couldn't have been placed more than a week ago.

"This is insane," she commented with wonder, opening the folded piece of paper. Evan joined her, his eyebrows lifting with recognition.

"01010100...01101111..."

"Ugh, this goes on forever!" Elizabeth interrupted.

"It's binary code," Evan explained, "Each set of numbers stands for one letter, that's why it's so long."

She pursed her lips, "Well, it could just be junk, but it also could be from the killer."

"I know who knows binary code," her brother replied hesitantly.

"Who?"

He rubbed his neck, "Charlie."

Taken aback, Elizabeth snatched the letter from his hands, "No—no way! We can't tell Charlie, we can't tell anyone we're doing this!"

"She'll understand! Mike is her brother, too," Evan argued, "Plus, she had to memorize it for one of her computer science tests. She's the fastest and easiest solution."

Elizabeth shoved the heel of her palm into her forehead, "She won't understand, she'll say we're crazy."

"Yeah, well, we are! And we're even crazier to think we can do this alone," his voice hushed, "Let's just tell her, please."

Exasperated, Elizabeth looked into her brother's eyes. She recognized the panic in his wide, pleading eyes, and it was then that she realized he was just as scared as she was.

Sighing, she obliged, "Fine, fine, let's go back to the house."

As Elizabeth trailed in front of him, Evan let the corner of his mouth lift just the slightest bit. It was a small win, but a win nonetheless. In the midst of suffocating losses, he found it nice to have a small beacon of hope.

Evan knew his sister better than anyone else, so he knew that Charlie was the one she thought knew her best. He couldn't help but wonder, though, why Elizabeth was so afraid of her. In this moment, they needed all the support they could get, so why was Elizabeth trying to push everyone away? She wouldn't have asked Evan for help if he didn't pry. She would have gone alone, and even worse, put herself in danger.

He watched her curly orange braids sway back and forth across Michael's jacket as they walked, and he wondered why she seemed so far away from him, even though he was only a foot or two behind her. Nowadays, it seemed like she always had to be perfect, had to figure things out on her own, had to be the best.

He couldn't forget himself, though. He wasn't doing a great job of reaching out, either. He found himself hanging out with friends more often and spending less time at home. It was nice, having a big group of people to rely on in and out of class, but he figured a break probably would have been nice. Some time to spend at home, watching a movie with Elizabeth, Michael, Charlie, and Sammy. The way it used to be.

"We're home," Elizabeth dragged him out of his own thoughts, "I can't believe I let you talk me into this."

"This will help, I promise," he smiled warmly as he walked into the house after Elizabeth used her key to unlock the door, "Charlie!"

"What?" she called from upstairs.

"Are you busy?"

"No!"

"I have a question!"

"Okay, then come up!"

Evan raced up the stairs, Elizabeth trailing behind him. She shivered when his wind brushed her hair back. He was far ahead of her, and by the time she turned the corner of the upstairs hallway, he was already sliding into Charlie’s room.

"Hey, Char."

"Hi," she grinned, placing the book in her hands on her nightstand, "What's going on?"

He looked to Elizabeth, who leaned against Charlie's door with her arms crossed. When Evan caught her gaze, she turned away.

Sighing, Evan sat on Charlie's bed, "I wanna show you something, but you can't tell Uncle, okay?"

"Uh, okay..." Charlie raised an eyebrow, making no promise to him.

"Alright," he continued nonetheless, "Liz and I, we went to Freddy's—to see if we could find something useful. Y'know, and, um, help Mike—"

She pinched the bridge of her nose, "Oh, Christ—"

"And we found something! Something that might be useful," he pulled the crumpled paper from his pocket, "But it's in binary. And I know you know it, so I—we—thought—"

"You can't be doing this, you two!" Charlie interjected as she threw her arms out.

"See, I told you she wouldn't understand," Elizabeth snapped at Evan.

Charlie scrunched her nose at the girl's attitude, "No, Liz, I understand just fine. I know you want to help him, but you're going to get yourselves hurt, or worse. There's a killer somewhere out there, it's not safe to do this investigator stuff!"

"But—!" Elizabeth tried to cut in.

Rising from her bed, Charlie crossed to where Elizabeth was standing, "This isn't like that fantasy world you stayed in—Teyvat, or whatever. This is the real world! There is no magic, there are no second chances. This is too risky!"

"I can handle myself just fine!" Elizabeth fumed, "I know karate, martial arts, every defense I've been taught by Childe and Kaeya!"

"So, what, you're gonna put your little brother in danger?" she asked bitterly, "What about us? What about Mom and Dad? If anyone finds out you're doing this, you're gonna make us into a target."

The younger of the two girls swallowed down the lump in her throat, "That won't happen—I'll be careful."

"Why can't you just let someone do their job? Why do you always insist on doing everything yourself?" Charlie asked, irritated yet sincere all at the same time.

Elizabeth opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. She lowered her head, resigning the argument. Truthfully, the questions struck a nerve in her, although it was nothing she had any desire to discuss.

Charlie took a breath, exhaling slowly, "Look, I know it's hard, but sometimes you have to let someone else take care of things. Mike is gonna be fine, okay? The cops will figure out who committed the murder one way or another."

When Elizabeth kept quiet, Charlie turned to Evan, "If I translate this note for you, are you going to go keep looking for more?"

"Uh..." he stalled. Charlie glanced between the two Aftons, then rolled her eyes.

"You two are insane," she sighed, "I'll translate the note for you. But I'm going to come with you if it says anything strange or creepy, okay?"

"Okay," Evan replied, trying to conceal his enthusiasm.

"Start taking notes, Ev. It's gonna be quick."

The teen scrambled for a journal and a pencil on his sister's desk, scribbling aimlessly the letters she spat out. I's, e's, m's...with his focus, he felt almost like a robot.

When Charlie was done transcribing the numbers into letters, she exhaled, sitting back on the edge of the bed.

"So what does it say?" Elizabeth asked eagerly.

Evan squinted as he tried to find the words in the jumbled letters, "To...uh—oh! Whomever. To whomever finds this letter, I am sure you already know about the murder that ha...uh...happened at this...quaint establishment. Well, I know who did it."

He glanced at his Elizabeth, both of their eyebrows shooting into their foreheads, before he continued reading.

"I will show him to you, but you must follow my clues. First, go to the edge of the...forest...and find the tree that is three paces back from the restaurant. There, you will find your next clue."

"No way..." Elizabeth placed an arm on Evan's back, leaning over his shoulder to see the letters he wrote on the paper.

"I'm just going to remind you, this is a bad idea," Charlie cut in, "But I know you're going to go through with it anyway, so I'm coming with. And Sammy, for extra muscle."

"Fine, but no one else," Elizabeth declared.

"Okay," Charlie replied nonchalantly.

"I'm serious!"

"I know."

"Well, good," Elizabeth huffed, "I'll go tell Sammy the situation, and we can go looking again tomorrow since it's already dark out."

"Meet us by the TV? Maybe we can have a sleepover, like old times," Evan spoke optimistically, and upon seeing Elizabeth's unsure expression, suggested, "It could help you destress."

Snorting, Elizabeth broke out into a small smile, "Okay. Bring your sleeping bags, Sammy and I will meet you both in a sec."

When Elizabeth turned the corner of the hall, headed to Sammy's room, Charlie let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding.

"Tired?" Evan joked, "Here, I'll get our sleeping bags and go downstairs."

"Thanks."

She watched him lift her sleeping bag from the floor, offering him a smile as he walked out of the room. Shakily, she lifted herself from the mattress and left her room to approach the staircase. As she walked down, she couldn't help but wonder why she wasn't the leader this time. After all, she was the oldest after Mike, even if Sammy was only two minutes younger.

Once she finally reached the family room, and everyone else joined her, she relished the silence; in exhaustion, no one said a word. It was a bit eerie, but Charlie had to say, she didn't hate it. She sat on top of her sleeping bag, leaning against the back of the couch.

"I love this movie!" Sammy laughed, kicking his feet as he lay on his sleeping bag. He broke the leftover tension in the air.

"'S only because you wanna be like the main guy," Evan slurred tiredly, snuggled into his sleeping bag between the twins.

"Ferris?" Sammy scoffed, "Uh, yeah? He's awesome!"

From the other side of Charlie, Elizabeth hummed unsurely, "I think if I met him in real life, he'd annoy me."

"Everyone annoys you, Lizzie."

"Shut up, Sam."

As the movie continued, Elizabeth yawned and rubbed her eyes. Charlie glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, watching as she slid down the sofa and leaned her head on its cushions. She dozed, her head lightly tapping Charlie's bicep; she wouldn't have even noticed if she wasn't watching.

Charlie looked down at her sister. Her face looked innocent, like she was a child again. Sighing, Charlie brushed out the curly strands of hair that fell over Elizabeth's shoulder.

She prayed to God that her dumb sister would be safe, no matter what dumb thing she was planning to do.

Chapter Text

"First, go to the edge of the forest and find the tree that is three paces back from the restaurant. There, you will find your next clue."

"Alright," Sammy leaned on Evan's shoulder, "So we're looking for some tree. Can't be that hard, right?"

Glancing between the restaurant and the forest, Evan identified the line where the trees were chopped down for the building and the forest began. He pointed at the space where the clean blades of grass turned into longer, prairie like greens.

"Let's start over there. That looks like the edge of the forest to me."

***

Kaeya groaned when the light of morning hit his face. He tucked his head into Childe's side, shielding his eyes.

"Hey," Childe greeted in a gravelly morning voice.

"We need to start sleeping in my room again," he replied, sparing curses at the sun.

"We let Mike have that room again, remember?"

"...Damn it."

Childe chuckled, "I'm sure you'll survive. Want me to start breakfast?"

"I can do it today," Kaeya dragged himself to the edge of the bed, but Childe pulled him back by the waist.

"I'll make breakfast, you'll probably burn something. You can make lunch, though."

"Fine..." he grumbled, shimming out of Childe's arms and grabbing a book, "I'm still getting up, though."

"You're no fun," Childe stuck his tongue out, following Kaeya to the main room. When they got there, Michael was already sitting on the couch, his chin resting in his hand. He didn't move when they walked in.

Childe raised an eyebrow, "Are you...staring at the wall?"

"Huh?" he jumped, turning to the two men, "Oh, yeah, sorry. I was just thinking."

"You need to go out with your friends, comrade," Childe retreated to the kitchen while Kaeya sat in an arm chair next to Michael.

"Yeah, I know! I know. And I still need to talk to Yanfei, too. I'll never figure this out otherwise."

"Don't stress too much, it's all gonna work out," Kaeya threw his legs over the side of the chair, "What did you say happened again?"

"I confessed to a murder I didn't commit and now the real murderer is out there but the cops are looking for me," he replied in one breath, pulling his cheeks down with his fingertips.

"Oh, right. Yeah, that wasn't very smart."

"I know!" he groaned.

Childe peaked around the kitchen wall, "Well, why don't you talk to her today? I was gonna show her around New Khaenri'ah, but I'm sure she'll be much more interested in helping you. She's coming over in an hour or two."

"Wait, they're gonna leave in an hour or two?" Kaeya crossed his arms, "I thought you said I could make lunch."

"Uh...oops?" Childe shrugged, a cheeky smile on his face.

"Oh, you snake," he smirked, "Mike, you like my food, don't you?"

"Uh..." Michael scratched his neck, an awkward laugh slipping from his throat.

"Really, you two? Hmph, and I thought I finally had people on my side. You boys are all the same."

"We're grown men, Kaeya," Childe argued weakly.

"Ah, not this one, though," he reached a hand behind Michael's head, ruffling his hair.

Michael laughed, "I'm nineteen, Kaeya. I drank with you last New Year!"

"You'll always be thirteen in my mind," Kaeya pinched his cheek teasingly.

"So you think of me as a raging asshole?"

"Hm...perhaps."

"Gimme a break," the young man snickered, pushing Kaeya's face away with one hand.

As his chuckles died, Kaeya exhaled, "C'mon, let's go meet Childe in the kitchen."

***

"I see you've found my first letter," Charlie read, translating the binary code again, "You've embarked on a journey that will change you forever. There is a hole in this forest, covered by dirt. Find it, and there you will find the next letter."

Sammy rubbed his forehead, "How many of these letters are there?"

"Relax, we've only found one so far," Elizabeth brushed his complaints off.

Charlie looked at the letter in her hands, "Something seems off about this, Liz."

"Obviously, whoever is putting these letters up is insane. Let's just keep going, we'll be fine," she insisted.

Evan put a hand on Sammy's shoulder, "Let's stick together and keep searching, okay? We gotta find a place in this forest that looks dug up."

"That could take us all day," Sammy argued.

"Then we better get started," Elizabeth declared.

***

"Oh, Archons, Michael..." Yanfei replied, averting her gaze to the skies of Liyue. What was supposed to be a relaxing walk with her old friend Michael turned into a headache for her. As Yanfei's boots clinked against the cobblestone streets, Michael shrunk into his shoulders.

"Yeah...listen, can you help?"

"Yes, of course I can, but I'm not sure if it'll work out the way we want it to. First things first, you need to go back home and tell the police the truth," she declared.

"I can't do that, they'll never believe me!"

"Mike, there's a murderer out there! This isn't something you can just brush off," she put a hand on his shoulder, and he stopped in his tracks to look at her, "You need to do the right thing."

His eyebrows furrowed, he bit his lip, "Say...say I don't. What else can I do?"

She shook her head, "Oh, Mike..."

"Please, Yanfei!" he ran a hand through his hair, "I—I don't wanna go to jail, I'm not a criminal! I'm just…"

"Alright. Okay, listen to me, Mike," she grabbed his biceps, forcing him to look at her, "I suppose you have one other option."

"What is it?" he asked eagerly.

***

"Ew," Evan looked at his hands, which were caked in dirt. He knelt in front of the hole, disgusted yet intrigued at the same time.

"Well? What does it say?" Elizabeth leaned over his shoulder.

"Um..." he grabbed the letter, gently brushing it off, "Whoa..."

"What?" Sammy leaned over his other shoulder.

"It isn't in binary code anymore."

Charlie put a hand on his head, "Just read it."

"Hello, son. If you've gotten this far, that means you really are dedicated to this search. Well, then, I'll make this easier for you. There's only one thing left for you to do."

"Finally!" Sammy cheered, "Phew, this whole thing was giving me the creeps."

"What's the last thing to do?" Elizabeth urged.

"Find the tree with the hole in its middle. It's deeper into the forest, but if you walk directly forward from this hole, you will find it. Good luck. It's blue skies from here on out."

When he finished reading, Evan turned to look up at Charlie. She saw the concern in his eyes, and she gulped.

"Guys, the sun is setting," she said, "This isn't a good idea. We need to go home."

"But we're so close! Please, let's keep going," Elizabeth begged.

"No! Liz, we are going home," Charlie commanded, "So drop it."

The younger girl furrowed her eyebrows, standing up straight. Even when she did, she stood no taller than Charlie did.

"Fine! I'll go by myself," she insisted.

Elizabeth walked towards the tree the letter sent her to, ignoring the protests of her family behind her. Clenching her fists, she resisted the urge to turn around.

"Liz, stop! Come back!" Evan called. He lifted himself from the ground to chase after her, but Sammy grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back.

"Hey, let me go!" he tried to pull away, "Sam, I can't let her go alone!"

"Well, I'm not letting you go with her, man!" Sammy patted his shoulder, then his back, before running after Elizabeth, "I'm gonna go, okay? I'll keep her safe! You two, go home!"

"Sam—!"

"Yes, I'm sure, Charlie!" he answered his twin's question without her even asking, "I'll meet you at home!"

He ran into the forest, catching Elizabeth before both of them were out of sight in the fog. Evan glanced back and forth between Charlie and the fog, Charlie and the fog, Charlie and the fog. She tripped over her words, her mouth hung open.

"Um—come on," she spoke finally, "Let's go home. I'm sure Sam will make her come to her senses."

He almost refuted her words, but he shrunk, dejected, "Okay."

***

"You find out who really committed the murder."

"What?" Michael looked at her as if she was crazy, "And how am I supposed to do that?"

"I don't know, but figure it out! If you do, law enforcement might be willing to strike a deal with you. They might give you just a fine instead of jail," Yanfei replied, "This is the best I can do for you, Mike. You dug yourself in this hole."

"I know, I know..." he rubbed his temples, "Alright, I'll figure something out."

From below his chin, Yanfei placed a hand on his cheek, "I know you will. Be safe, Mike, okay? And, please, quit lying to the police. I might not be able to save your butt next time."

He chuckled, "Okay, I will. Thank you, Yanfei."

She nodded, "Go talk to Childe and Kaeya. Then you have to go, okay? Time won't stop moving, not for anyone. Now go, Mike. I believe in you."

***

"You're an idiot. You know that, Liz?"

"I'm doing what I have to," she answered coldly. Sammy, baffled at her attitude, simply shrugged and shook his head.

The two walked in silence, Elizabeth looking for the tree while Sammy glanced about the landscaped. Nervous, he stayed alert for any noise, movement, or misplaced gust of wind that would indicate someone was near them. He inched closer to Elizabeth, wishing he could hide behind her instead.

"Look, over there!" she pointed a tree with a hole. Before Sammy could protest, she ran after it, leaving him completely exposed.

"Hey—wait up!"

When Sammy reached the tree, Elizabeth was already sticking her hand inside. She shoved the letter into Sammy's hands wordlessly, sticking her arm further into the hole. He looked over the note, turning pale white.

"Oh, no."

"What is it?" she asked impatiently.

"Well, first it says 'HAHAHA' in all capital letters," Sammy cringed, then read the rest of the letter, "Did you really think it would be that easy? You're clearly very optimistic. I've left you four gifts inside the tree. Please, enjoy them. Be ready to...face me soon?! Liz!"

"The letter says my name?" Elizabeth asked, pulling out three small cards and a key.

"No, I said Liz! The letter says that the douchebag is coming for us!"

"Oh, come on, it's just some fake threat to scare us. No one is going to actually come."

"Well, whoever it was didn't have a problem with killing before!" Sammy yelled, exasperated, "What's in your hand?"

"Hm..." she turned the cards over, which revealed themselves as three Polaroid photos. When they looked closely at the pictures, though, the two siblings were disgusted.

"Oh my god. Oh my god," Sammy gagged, "Oh, holy shit, Elizabeth!"

"Oh, no..." her eyes shook. She examined the photos, the little girl on the floor, dead. She lay helpless, cold, alone.

"She's so...bloody..." Elizabeth whispered, her eyes glossing over, "Who did this? She was just a little girl."

The first photo showed the entire scene in all its gore. The second photo zoomed in on the young girl's face, and the third photo zoomed in on the stab wounds on her stomach. Elizabeth shoved the photos into her pocket, refusing to look at them any longer.

"Who cares about who did it—we need to get out of here, now!" Sammy grabbed her arm, then started sprinting out of the woods, "Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!"

"Wait, Sam!" she protested, "I don't know what the key is for!"

"I don't care! I could not care less right now, let's go!"

Elizabeth glanced behind her as Sammy dragged her along, then nodded, "Okay!"

"Finally, you listen to someone other than yourself!" he retorted.

The dig crawled under her skin, but she didn't reply. She followed him as he hopped over logs and branches, but the tip of her shoe caught on one of the them, and her hand slipped from his grasp.

"Sam!"

"Oh, fuck no," he pulled her back up, sprinting with an arm around her shoulders.

"Ow, ow, ow!" she hissed.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine, just get us home!"

Sammy nodded, focusing his attention on the edge of the forest. When he made it there, he saw his car, illuminated by the streetlights. He beamed in relief as he sped up, throwing Elizabeth into the car like his life depended on it.

"Ow!" she yelled, "Sam, what the hell?"

"Get in, get in!" he urged as he unlocked the car doors. Elizabeth fumbled, but opened her door right after, locking all the doors behind her. Meanwhile, Sammy forced the key into the ignition and spun the wheel to its right, dodging the families in the parking lot.

"Please don't hit anything," she begged sarcastically. Sammy, his knuckles white, gripped the wheel even tighter. His eyes were wide, and his stomach churned. Elizabeth noticed the sweat on his temples, and she shrunk, "Sam?"

"I can't talk to you right now," his voice shook as he placed a hand on his forehead, "I just—I—...forget it, Charlie'll handle you when we get home."

Guilty, Elizabeth averted her gaze to the floor, "I'm sorry."

"No, you're not," he grit his teeth, focusing on the road ahead of him. If he replied now, he would crack, and he needed to focus on getting the two of them home safe first. Elizabeth, understanding this, sunk into her chair. The ride wasn't long, but submerged in silence, it felt like years.

She pulled the photos and the key from her pocket, studying them. She couldn't look at the front of the photos any longer, but she gazed at the back, wondering if whoever sent the letters, the killer, may have left fingerprints. She ran her finger along the edge of one of the squares, then laid them down on her knee. In her other hand, she held the key, tracing its ridges with her fingertips. She felt like she had seen it before, but she couldn't tell from where.

When she flipped the key around, her cheeks turned white, and she almost dropped it. She squeezed it in her hand, close to her heart, to prevent Sammy from seeing it.

The initials in the middle of the key were clear: H.E.

Chapter Text

Sammy and Elizabeth returned to their house, red faced and dripping with panic. Sammy left his car in the driveway, rushing to unlock the front door with his key. Once Elizabeth shimmied in after him, he slammed the door shut, leaning against it while he locked it.

"Sammy, Elizabeth!" Charlie rushed around the corner, pulling both of the teens into her arms, "I was starting to get worried."

"Starting? I was—" Sammy began, but stopped in his tracks as he spotted his father walking in from the kitchen. Elizabeth tensed, sinking further into Charlie's arms.

At the end of the hallway, Henry crossed his arms, "Where were you two? I said be home by dinner. Now your food is cold. Not to mention, it's much too dangerous for you two to be out in the dark right now."

"I told you they were looking for the earring Elizabeth lost, remember, Dad?" Charlie turned to her siblings, shooting them a wide-eyed look, "Did you find it?"

"O-oh! Yeah," Elizabeth stammered, palming at the hoops in her ears, "Uh, sorry, Uncle, I was just—y'know—trying to find them."

As Evan entered the room, exhaling in relief when he saw his siblings, Henry huffed, "Fine, but be more careful, okay? I have some work to finish up in my office, but your dinner is on the table. Let me know if any of you need anything, I love you all."

He blew them a kiss, then ventured for his office. Though the wall blocked him from view, Charlie waited for his door to shut before she started scolding Elizabeth. Once she heard it click, all hushed hell broke loose.

"What were you thinking, Elizabeth?!" she whispered sharply, "Seriously, I can't believe you! You put not only yourself in danger, but you dragged Sammy along, too! Y'know, if something happened to either of you, it would've been your fault."

Charlie pushed a finger into Elizabeth's chest, and the younger girl stumbled backwards into the half-wall behind her. She hissed, grabbing her knee.

Noticing her anguish, Charlie froze, "What happened?"

"Move your hand, Liz," Evan demanded. She pulled her hands away from her knee to reveal a large gash. The blood leaked in tiny spots onto her jeans. Charlie turned away from her, placing a hand on her forehead.

"I can't deal with this right now, Sam—"

"I got it," he agreed, slipping his arm around Elizabeth's waist, "C'mon, I'll get you to the bathroom and we can clean it up."

Although she hopped along with him, she protested, "I'll do it myself—"

"Just—!" he took a breath to stop himself from yelling, trying not to alert his father, "Just shut up and let someone help you for once, Liz, okay? This whole 'strong girl' act is getting really fucking annoying."

"That's a little rude," she sneered.

"I know you're strong, shithead," Sammy led her into the bathroom and helped her sit on the counter, "I just meant that you can use help time-to-time, too."

Elizabeth traced the white sink below her, watching Sammy pull out a first aid kit and hydrogen peroxide. The bright lights in the room made her feel safe, as if nothing could hide itself in plain sight.

"I could say the same to you," she argued, albeit weaker than usual, "You just get angry whenever you're upset. You never let us help you."

He shook his head, "That's different. And this ain't about me, it's about you."

Suddenly, Elizabeth smirked with the prospect of an idea. Just as Sammy was about to put a cotton ball of hydrogen peroxide on her knee, she covered it with her hand.

"What's the big idea?" he glared at her, "Oh, no, I know that face—"

"If you tell me why you won't let yourself be upset," she held her finger in the air, "Then I'll let you help me."

Sammy rolled his eyes, "Really? C'mon, just let me—"

She shot him a look, her hand still over her wound, and he resigned.

"Fine. Move your hand," he placed the cotton ball on her knee, and she winced, but clenched her hand to stop herself from making any noise. He stifled a laugh, then explained:

"I just don't like when people worry about me. I mean, you see Charlie, she's always stressed getting you out of situations like this. She worries about everyone, and I don't wanna add to that, y'know? I'm not against people helping me, I just don't want them to worry."

"Oh," Elizabeth replied quietly.

Noticing the change in her demeanor, Sammy raised an eyebrow, "She worries about you, too, y'know. Worries about you a lot."

"Yeah."

"Maybe you should, I dunno, not make her worry as much. Stop taking things too far."

"I don't—" she sighed, "I'm just trying to help Mike."

Sammy spread Neosporin on her knee, "You gotta keep yourself safe, too. And us. We're your siblings, too."

She gulped, "Sam...is it ever...weird? I mean, having me and Evan and Mike. Is it different from what you have with Charlie?"

"Well, yeah. Charlie's my twin, I've been through everything with her," he place a gauze on her wound and wrapped a bandage around it, "But I know what you mean. I don't think it's weird. I grew up with all of you guys, too. We started living together when we were young, so it just feels like y'all are my siblings. Like, if Charlie and I had an older sibling and two younger siblings, all biologically related to us, but we were still twins. 'Course, Charlie and I's relationship is different, but you're still our siblings, through and through."

Elizabeth nodded, silent. Slowly, he met her gaze.

"Do...do you feel like that? Like, you aren't our sister?"

She shook her head profusely, "No, not exactly. I just—I feel like I'm intruding. I don't want to make your life more stressful than it needs to be. If my parents were still here, you wouldn't need to deal with this at all. I feel guilty whenever any of you try to help me, you've already given up so much, and..."

"What are you talking about?" Sammy reeled back, "If your parents were still here, you would still be our friend who we grew up with. We used to see each other everyday, our families hung out all the time. Who's to say that isn't what a sibling is? I mean, there's so many different sibling relationships out there. We would still worry about you whether you lived with us or not. We're not helping you because we're supposed to, we're helping you because we want to."

Elizabeth traced the bandage on her knee, tilting her head to look at it.

"It's done. Your bandage, I mean. Now go upstairs and go to bed, sis. You're obviously too tired to think straight," he grabbed the back of her head and pulled it towards him, placing a kiss on her forehead, "Sleep tight."

"You too, Sam," she watched him as he walked out the bathroom door, "And...thanks. For everything. I'll apologize to Charlie soon."

Smiling, he threw her a nod over his shoulder, then exited the bathroom. She sat on the counter, alone, thoughts racing through her mind. Taking a breath, she clenched her fists and followed Sammy's lead, walking out the bathroom door after turning off the light.

Still, the secret of H.E.'s key crawled up her spine.

Chapter Text

At school, Elizabeth toyed with the key in her pocket. She tightened her fist around it, letting its grooves dig into her hand. As everyone talked around her in the hallway, she tried to figure out how to tell her siblings the truth of what she had discovered. How do you tell someone you think their father, the man who took care of them and yourself, might be a murderer?

"Liz!" a boy cheered, running into her back, "What's up?"

"Gabe!" she growled, pushing his shoulder, "Don't scare me like that! Ugh..."

He chuckled, "Sorry. I do that everyday, though. Hey—have you taken the Pre-Calc test yet?"

"Yeah, why? Forgot to study again?" she teased with a smirk.

"Maybe. Can you help?" he beamed cheekily.

"Just look over your infinity theorems and even you'll be fine."

"Okay, tha—wait. What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing," Elizabeth hummed, "Hey, where's Veronica?"

He looked at the ceiling, stuck in thought, "Uh...I think she has a surgery today."

"Oh, crap! You're right, I totally forgot," she hit her forehead.

He nodded, "Yeah, I think the gang is getting together at my house to give her a call. Wanna join?"

"Um..."

"You haven't hung out with us in, like, forever," he tried to nudge her.

"Yeah, I know, I've just been...busy..." she paused as Charlie passed her in the hallway. The older girl didn't spare a glance at her sister, simply walking by without saying a word. Elizabeth pursed her lips, "Um...I'll see what I can do."

"Isn't that your sister?" Gabe looked at Elizabeth's face, seeing her expression, "Oh, I get it. Giving you the cold shoulder, huh?"

"Yeah, but I deserve it," she sighed, "Anyway, I'm heading to the library. I've got a free period eighth hour."

Gabe's shoulders fell, "Aw, not gonna walk me to class? Alright, alright. I'll see you at my place tonight, then!"

"Hey—I said maybe!"

"I hear a yes!" he sang.

As Gabe retreated into the sea of people, Elizabeth rolled her eyes despite her smile. The smile quickly faded, though, when she realized how awkward the car ride home would be.

She was right, of course. After her calm eighth hour in the library, the bell echoed through the building, releasing the students for the day. When she climbed into Sammy's car, sat behind Evan in the passenger side front, she looked to her left to find Charlie. The girl was silent, staring out her window. Elizabeth shot her head to her nails, picking at the underside of them.

"Alright," Sammy rubbed his hands together before putting the car in gear, "So, how was school today, everyone?"

"Kinda boring. Mr. Smith was so mean today, though," Evan replied.

"Really? What'd he do?" Sammy urged, more interested than he should have been.

"Someone was complaining about how much work we had to do on the project, so he moved the due date up to Thursday. And he called the kid lazy, disruptive, and rude. He wasn't even complaining to him, he was talking to one of his friends!"

"Haha! I remember those days," the older boy barked out a laugh, "And what about your little girlfriend? Charlie Lee, right?"

"She's—she's not my girlfriend," Evan blushed, crossing his arms, "She's just a girl, that's all."

"Dude, it's so weird how you're dating someone with the same name as our Charlie. Hopefully you don't marry her, haha," Sammy joked, smirking as he saw Evan huff from the corner of his eye.

"She's not my girlfriend!"

"Even if she was, Sam, I'm sure he'd be able to tell us apart," Charlie rationalized.

"Still weird," he shrugged, "What about you, Char-Char? How was your day?"

She crossed her arms, "Eh, it was fine."

"And, of course, Lizzie," he smiled.

"My day was okay. Veronica’s getting her surgery today, and my friends wanna give her a call, so I'll probably head over to Gabe's when we get home," she glanced at Charlie to see her eyebrows furrowed, "If, y'know, you guys don't need me for anything."

"Just be home by eight," Charlie closed her eyes.

"She'll be fine, Char, don't worry," Sammy waved her worries away, "So, who wants to listen to my cassette?"

A collective groan washed over the car, which made Evan chuckle just the tiniest bit. He rested his elbow on the car door, watching the outside blur past with a smile.

When they arrived home, after his ears were violated with the worst songs Sammy could find, he gave his sister a hug goodbye. Elizabeth waved, then was on her way walking down the road.

"I think I'll go upstairs and do some homework," Evan said as he walked inside the house, "God knows Mr. Smith isn't gonna let us catch a break."

Alice stepped in from the kitchen, "Make sure you eat a snack soon, all of you, okay? I'm going to go outside and garden, but Henry should be home soon if you need anything."

"Thanks, Mom!" Sammy grinned, sliding his school bag off of his shoulders and onto the floor. He hopped into a chair in the family room, reading a book for English class while Charlie sat in the kitchen completing a worksheet. Although the two of them did their homework downstairs, it wasn't abnormal for Evan to do his homework upstairs. He preferred silence when he was working, a trait he picked up from his father.

As Evan closed the door, leaving it slightly ajar, he noticed a small piece of paper on his bed. He put down his bag and took out a few pencils and a journal before walking over to his bed to check on the paper. Perhaps it fell out of his backpack as he was leaving for school.

He grabbed the letter that was neatly placed on his pillow, opening it gingerly. As soon as he saw its contents, though, he snapped it shut and glanced around his room. He eyed the bat in his closet, then checked under the bunkbed, behind his clothes, behind his and Sammy's dresser, but there was nothing. He found nothing out of the normal in the room. He checked Sammy's bed, but it didn't have a note either. Sprinting, he left for Charlie's room, checking everywhere for another letter and finding nothing. Finally, he checked Elizabeth's room, which had nothing out of the ordinary aside from the small note on her bed. He snatched it, not needing to check the inside; he knew what it would say. His heart racing, Evan bounded down the stairs into the hallway that opened to the kitchen and family room.

"Everything okay, Ev?" Charlie asked, raising a brow at the letters in his hands.

"No—I—I found this note—" he panted, "I-it says—it's about—it—I don't know, I—"

"Hey, bud, calm down," Sammy walked towards him slowly, putting his hands up.

"Let me read them," Charlie insisted, and he nodded, handing the letters off to her.

He swallowed hard, trying to mask his panic, "S-someone knows. Someone knows, a-and they were here, in our house, I can't—I checked everywhere, but I couldn't find anything, nothing at all, there wasn't anything—"

Hushing him, Sammy patted his back, "It's okay, you're gonna be okay. Everything is fine."

"No, no, it's not—it's not..."

Charlie's eyes widened; in a familiar font—just messier, as if the author scratched hard at the paper several times when writing the characters—the letters read:

'EVAN/ELIZABETH:
STOP LOOKING.'

That was all. In theory, the letter was short and not filled with much information, but in reality, it was enough to make Charlie's blood run cold.

"Sam—get the other letters. They're in my desk drawer," Charlie commanded.

"Got it," he rushed up the stairs as fast as his legs would carry him while Charlie ran a hand through her hair.

"Char—that person—they were in our house," Evan’s eyes were wide and fearful.

She put a hand on her mouth, "We need to figure out how they got in."

"Yes, but—"

"Here," Sammy interrupted his brother, pushing the other letters into Charlie's hands, "These are all of them."

Although the first few were in binary code, she compared the last two letters, written in English, to the letter in her hands. Sure enough, the font was similar, save for the messy boldness of Evan and Elizabeth's letters.

"Whoever wrote the original letters, probably the killer, wrote these, too," she deduced.

"So, there was a murderer in our house?" Evan gripped at his hair.

"We have to check around and make sure they aren't still here," Sammy suggested, "We should split up—"

As Charlie rubbed her temples, Evan shrieked, "Split up? Are you crazy?"

"It's the fastest way to check!"

"But if the murderer is here, we don't have any back up!"

"We can all handle ourselves—"

"It's a murderer!"

"Guys!" Charlie yelled over them, "Will you, please, just—"

Suddenly, three loud knocks came from the door. The teens froze, inching closer together as they stared at the wood.

"W-who do you think it is?" Evan stammered.

"It could be Liz," Charlie replied.

"I'll get it," Sammy declared, tiptoeing to the front door. He touched the door softly, peaking outside through the curtains of the door's small side window.

"Oh, hey!" he smiled, recognizing the person outside. He didn't notice Charlie and Evan cringing as he swung it open, revealing a tall, lanky figure.

"Sammy! Oh, thank God—listen, I haven't heard from Michael in a really long time, and I visited his apartment and I couldn't find him anywhere and—"

Evan blinked away his surprise, "Parker!"

"Hey, kiddo—umph!" he groaned as Evan pummeled into him, holding the young man tightly at his waist, "Wow, you get stronger every time I see you."

"I'm so glad it's you and not a murderer—I was so scared, and I didn't know what to do, I had no idea—"

"Oh, shit," Parker mumbled, noticing Evan's panic, "Hey, it's okay, kiddo, it's okay. It's just me. Why would you think I'm a murderer?"

"Do you have any idea what's going on right now?" Sammy looked at him incredulously.

Patting Evan's hair, he shook his head, "No, I just got back from India a couple days ago. Why? What's happening?"

Charlie bit her lip, waving him inside. He followed her lead as she shut the door behind him. Evan released his waist, but Parker kept one arm around his shoulders. After Charlie sat in a chair at the kitchen table, Sammy to her right, Parker led Evan in and stood by the table.

"A little girl was murdered at Freddy's," Charlie explained, and Parker's eyes widened, "Fritz found her in the storage room. It happened on Monday, but the restaurant is closed to the public that day. There was no footage on the security camera, and no sign of a break-in. Whoever did it cleaned up the scene so well that no one could find finger prints or anything that could be traced back to a killer. No weapon was found either."

"Holy shit," Parker's mouth fell agape.

"And our idiot older brother, we still don't know why, confessed to the murders. Something about keeping us safe..." she shook her head, "Our idiot sister, on the other hand, went to figure out what happened. Now, we're a target for the real killer who apparently has access to our house and knows Elizabeth and Evan's names."

"Jesus. Uh—that reminds me," he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small object, placing it in Charlie's hand, "Your spare key was in the grass. I was gonna put it back under the mat for you, but I thought I should let you know. I'm glad I did now."

Charlie slapped her forehead, "Of course, the spare key..."

"Who would know where it was hidden, though?" Sammy tilted his head.

"Everyone puts their spare key under the doormat. I'm sure it wasn't that hard for the killer to figure it out."

Sammy shivered at the mention of the killer, and Parker interrupted, "Wait—how do you know the killer was in your house?"

"Evan found these notes on his and Elizabeth's beds," Charlie handed the letters to him.

"I'm gonna pick up Liz at 5:00," Sammy said, eyeing the letters, "I don't want her walking around any later than that."

"Is there anything you guys want me to do?" Parker asked, "I can pick up Lizzie myself, or something else, anything you guys want."

"Would you stay for dinner?" Evan requested sheepishly. Parker glanced down at him, chuckling as he pulled the young teen into his shoulder.

"Sure, of course."

***

That night, when Michael entered Kaeya and Childe's apartment, he threw them a quick, mindless pleasantry before rushing straight to Kaeya's room. Kaeya argued that he might be upset, and to give him some time, but Childe wasn't convinced. He marched up to Kaeya's door, gently pushing it open. Peaking in, he saw Michael with the little orange box in his hands, looking uneasy.

"Leaving so soon, comrade?" Childe joked, and Michael jumped, then sighed upon realizing who it was.

"You scared me," he chuckled, "Yeah, sorry...I should've said something, but I thought if I talked to you, I'd change my mind."

Childe smirked, "Well, it only makes sense. I am quite the person to behold."

"Trust me, I wouldn't be staying for your looks," Michael pushed his shoulder teasingly.

Snickering, Childe leaned against the doorframe as Kaeya joined the two of them, his elbow resting on Childe's shoulder.

"So, you're going home, then?" he asked.

Solemn, Michael nodded, "I don't want to, but I have to. It's my mess, so I need to clean it up."

"You're a fine young man, Mike," Kaeya put a hand on his shoulder, "If that's what you have to do, then do it. We'll be here if you need us."

"Thank you," he bowed his head the slightest bit, "I'll come back when I can. Thanks for everything you've done for me, guys."

Resisting the urge to wrap Michael in his arms, Childe nodded, "Go on, then, comrade. You'll be just fine."

The young man smiled as he opened a portal with the tiny contraption in his hand, stepping through it and exiting their sights.

***

"Hi, Maa! I'm home!" Parker called
as he walked through his front door.

"Good! Go finish folding your laundry," she called back, and Parker slumped.

"Right...okay, I will!"

Sluggishly, he ventured up the stairs of his house, not particularly excited for the endeavor. When he arrived at his bedroom door, he found it closed, which was out of the ordinary for him. He shrugged, then opened it, seeing a figure sitting on his bed.

"Ah!" he shrieked.

"What was that?" his father called.

"Um..." he took a breath, recognizing the person on his bed, "Nothing, Pita, I stubbed my toe!"

Quickly, Parker slammed his door shut, glaring at the young intruder. He whispered pointedly, "What are you doing here, Mike? Do you have to give me a heart attack?"

"Sorry," Michael lifted his hands in surrender, stifling a laugh.

Unimpressed, Parker crossed his arms, "Your siblings told me you went back to—"

"Teyvat? Yeah, I did, but Yanfei said I should come back, y'know, figure this all out somehow," Michael reeled back, "Wait—when did you talk to them?"

"I was just over there, today, looking for you! You scared the shit out of me and everyone else," Parker kneeled to put his clothes into his dresser.

The other man scratched his neck, "Yeah...how are they doing, by the way? Frankie and Alyssa?"

"They're in panic mode, but other than that, they're fine. They met me at my house when I got home, and I asked where you were, but they didn't want to talk about you. Well, Alyssa didn't. Frankie said he had no idea where you were. Alyssa's still mad at you for how you ended things, so she told him to shut up."

Michael ran a hand through his hair, "I know...I feel bad, but if I kept dating her, then imagine how our relationship would be right now! She'd be wondering where I am, but I wouldn't be able to tell her because, y'know, how do I explain that I can jump between worlds to someone—it would be hell."

"You didn't have to call her to break up with her, though," Parker smirked, "Then hang up when she tried to ask why."

"Stop it," he pointed at his friend, knowing the teasing would start soon. As Parker pulled out a t-shirt to fold, Michael tilted his head, "Hey, nice shirt."

The shirt, with the stupidest slogan Michael could find, lay in Parker's hand. He rolled his eyes, "I know, you got it for me."

"I have good taste," he sparkled.

"Shut up," Parker smiled despite his words, glancing at the window which showed a completely dark outside, "So, are you staying here for the night?"

"Yeah. If it's okay with you, I know it's short notice."

"You know my parents love you. They might not be crazy about the fact that you snuck in, but I'll just say you came in behind me when I walked in."

He rubbed his arm, "Have they seen the news yet?"

"They have," Parker answered cautiously, "But my mom won't believe it for a second. Pops could be convinced, but they both think you've just been roped into it 'cause of your position. And, y'know, you're an idiot."

"C'mon, dude!" Michael flopped back onto the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes.

He laughed, "Sorry! It's true. Now get off my bed, you're sleeping on the floor tonight."

"What?" Michael shot up, "But we always sleep in the bed!"

"Next time, don't be so stupid, then you can have bed privileges," Parker shrugged.

"Fine," he sighed, but noticed that Parker was about to leave the room. Quickly, he blurted, "Wait—"

"What's up?" Parker responded, turning over his shoulder.

"I don't wanna seem like a douche, I'm grateful for what you've done for me," Michael smiled sheepishly, rubbing his neck, "So, um, thanks."

"Oh," Parker's eyes widened, "Uh, no problem."

He walked out of the room, touching the part of his cheeks that felt like they were on fire.

He convinced himself it was just hives.