Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

5:30 am ,Saturday, November 9th, 2013, Epsilon Center Mediation Room 11 ,Reality B:

I am reaching out to Reality five C.

Five C. 

This is Marnie. Reality five B.

Kifflom sister. 

Brother Zolag is dead.

Something

very

wrong

Need 

save

vision

future

 coming

no

choice

Forgive me

the time has come

the time has come

the time has come

9:45 am, Saturday, November 9th, 2013, De Santa Residence, Reality C

Tracey walked out of her room and put on a frown when she saw her father standing at the edge of the top of the stairs grinning at her and doing fake jumping jacks. 

"It's 9:45. You're here fifteen minutes early. Mail doesn't get here until 10." 

Michael widened his grin. "Exactly. Early bird gets the worm."

Michael started to step down when Tracey clicked her tongue and shook her head. 

"Uh uh. You know the rules. Top of the stairs. Stop cheating pop!"

Michael made a big show of putting his foot back on the second floor tiles. Just then Amanda walked out and shook her head and rolled her eyes. 

"Honestly Michael. You two had better not break that planter-wait. Where the fuck is the fern?"

"I put it in the kitchen."

"What?"

"Me and Tracey are racing baby."

Tracey giggled. "Not gonna be much of a race when I'm faster than your sagging old ass."

Amanda sighed but there was a smile on her lips. "Still on for tennis later today baby?" 

Michael scooped her into his arms and kissed her softly. She smelled like that vanilla suntan lotion she had been using lately. "Of course darling."

Michael watched her go down the stairs and then turned just in time to see the waves of light catching Tacey's blonde hair and illuminating her cheek bones. She had been looking so much better since starting the new therapy program. 

He smiled and said gently while nudging her shoulder "I'm proud of you Trace. No matter what happens."

She looked back at him with a surprised smile that made Michael's stomach turn over with guilt. Positive reinforcement. Better now than later. 

Was it bad his entire family was in some kind of therapy program now? Eh. But it was better than not trying at all. 

Just then the sound of paper hitting the floor Michael and Tracey took off down the stairs. Michael playfully shoved her into the wall and hopped down the last three steps instantly regretting it when pain shot up his knees. He ignored it as he scooped up the mail as Tracey attempted to snatch them out of his grasp. He warded her off with his other hand. 

"I win. Gotta be faster next time." He chuckled as he went through the mail. 

A bill. Typical. Some letter from that creepy Children of the Mountain cult which he threw over his head into the trash bin by the door with flawless accuracy. 

Still got it, Townley.

The FlyUS tickets for the surprise tonight. Michael quickly tucked that into his back pocket. And finally the letter from the University of San Andreas. Michael winked at Tracey and slipped it into her hands. She was practically sweating through her clothes and her hands were shaking the paper on the letter. He gave her what he hoped was a comforting pat on the shoulder and grinned sympathetically. 

"Hey. Whatever it says I'll still be proud of ya Tracey."

Tracey shrugged. 

"I never even went to college. Never even applied really. I fucked up while I was in school but you didn't. You are so incredibly smart and just making it this far proves that."

"I know daddy. Still will be disappointing if I didn't get in though." 

"I know angel. I know."

Slowly Tracey turned over the envelope and opened the lips slowly and pulled out the sheets within. Michael peered over her shoulder.

Just then Michael's phone started ringing. He turned away briefly to answer when he saw it was Franklin. 

"Hey, kid. What's up?"

"Sorry super weird fucking question. Did you happen to have an older or younger sister?"

That was a weird question. "No. What's-"

"Uh...WILL YOU ALL SHUT THE FUCK UP? I'm ON THE FUCKING PHONE? GOD DAMN!"

"Franklin? Are you okay?"

""Yeah. He's still there. Now where the fuck did y'all come from?" 

"Frank? Kid?"

"Look man. I got to go. Could you come by my place at some time today?"

Just then there was a concerned female voice off phone. "No! Are you fucking stupid? Don't tell him to come here." 

"Franklin? What's going on?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. Don't worry. Just forget I called and don't come by my place for say-um-five-days? Weeks? Years? I-no don't touch that. My fucking toaster."

The same female voice was speaking again. Something about the great beyond. Alarm bells began going off in his head when he heard that. That voice. He recognized it. 

"Hey Frank I just have a few things to wrap up here and then I'll be over as soon as I can."

"What? No that's really not....erm...shit...he's coming over."

The same female voice said "He's what? He can't do that! Do you want the universe to collapse?"

"Look. I fucking tried okay? I ain't the one fucking around with aliens and whatever else."

"Franklin you there?"

"Yeah man. Um look now is not really a good time."

"You called me?"

"Yeah and just forget it."

"Yeah not gonna happen. Like I said I'll be over soon. Just sit tight."

"No man. It's not-"

"Look. You're my friend. Like I said I'll be over soon."

"No you really don't-"

"Its not up for discussion. Like I said I'll be there."

"Look man it is really something you don't want to get involved in. I was just calling to make sure you were okay."

"Yes? Everything is fine here. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Everything is fine here. Look um...before you go...I just have a quick question."

"Alright. Shoot."

"Well let's say...you know how we talked about the whole like making bad choices for the sake of the greater good and all."

"I guess."

"Well let's just say hypothetically...that hypothetically speaking...I had made plans to do something....that I never did...but what it was was bad. You won't...you won't be mad or anything? Because I didn't do it and ended up making the right choice? Right?"

"Franklin. What's going on? Are you sure everything is all right?"

"Yes."

"Yes as in 'yes I'm fine' or 'yes as in someone is listening and I can't talk now'? Cough twice if it's the second one."

"Yes as in I'm good and don't come over. Look. Just forget I called."

The phone hung up. 

Michael's dad senses were going off. Something was not right at all. Of all days-

"Dad! I got in!"

Tracey was practically drilling a hole in the floor. Michael's face lite up like a light bulb when he heard that. "That's awesome sweetie!"

With that, he scooped her off the floor and did a circle as she squealed half with embarrassment and half with genuine joy. 

He set her down and patted her shoulder. "Look I got to make a quick call. I'll be right back okay?"

"Okay daddy! I got in! I can't believe it!"

"I never doubted you." 

As Michael walked through the front doors he broke into a bigger smile when he heard his wife and son squeal with joy when Tracey ran into the kitchen to tell them the news.

No answer. "Hey T. Its M. When you get this can you give me a call? It's Franklin. I think something's up." 

Then it felt as though someone had stabbed the back of his head with a hot poker. His vision became blurry as knelt over in excruciating pain that seemed to be coming from nowhere. His nose started bleeding all over the orange tiles of the porch. The phone fell somewhere on the floor. Michael didn't care where as there were more pressing concerns at hand. 

There was a white light and then the world went dark. 

11:00 am, September 7th, 2013, Downtown Los Santos, Reality B:

He was gone. This time for good. 

Trevor honestly won't have believed it if Franklin hadn't called him beforehand. Then the fucking snake had the actual audacity to try and play dumb. 

Michael. 

He thought that Michael would have been able to-

But he always had a soft spot for that kid. 

Franklin was dead to him but despite sending that Franklin continued to call and text and email him as though to explain things.

There was nothing to explain. 

Trevor had seen a lot of bodies in his life. Hell, he had caused half the ones he had seen. But this was by far the most painful thing to see. Michael lying there on the gravel his neck bent out of shape and blood coming out of his nose. Eyes like two blue glazed marbles and his black hair peppered with drops of blood and broken flesh. Even thinking about it made his stomach crawl. 

Trevor had a pretty good guess as to what had happened. Michael was stronger than he looked upon first glance but everyone has a limit and Franklin was the only person in his life who had actually been there for him. He looked so sad. So sad. So lonely. Trevor wanted to punch someone. 

Then there was Jimmy who actually believed at first that Trevor had helped kill Michael. Had he taught him nothing? Screw punching a person. He was gonna get into a fight with a biker later. 

This wasn't the first time he had grieved. The ink on his arm was proof of that. So it wasn't a big deal. He could get through this just like last time. 

Fuck Michael! Fuck! Didn't Trevor tell him that playing the nice guy would get him fucking killed!!! Damn it! Why didn't he just shoot the damn kid? 

But then again perhaps Trevor was judging him too harshly. After all if he saw Franklin ag-

Speak of the fucking devil. 

"Look! It's the traitor!" 

Franklin narrowed his eyes at that and Trevor felt the anger boiling in his chest at that. The fuck was that all about?

"What? You here to take me out too?"

"Nah man. I coulda taken you out. I choose to do Michael."

If Michael hadn't loved this kid as much as he did Trevor would have sent this punk ass Judas down the drain months ago. 

"He was good to you. Too good."

"And he used me dog. Straight up. Could not be trusted. You know that!"

Yes because Franklin was in the moral authority to decide who was trustworthy or not after pushing Michael to his death. Un-fucking-believable.

"Now you can't be trusted either. Stay away from me, Frank. I don't know what I'll do."

It wasn't a threat. It was a promise.

7:00 pm, November 11th, 2013, South Sandy Shores Grand Senora Desert, Reality B:

Michael attempted to open his eyes but the white light continued to pierce his eyes. It was bright out. Too fucking bright. And hot. Sand. He felt sand on his skin. But he wasn't at the beach. No salt air smell for that. Everything hurt as though he had just gone through a washing machine like that one time when he was six. He still had fucking nightmares about that. Screaming for his mom at the top of his lungs as daddy dearest shoved him in there and turned the damn thing on. He only put him in there for about five seconds but it felt like an hour. Dislocated his shoulder too. 

Michael reached up to touch between his nose and mouth and felt the dried blood crunch under the weight of his fingers. At least it had stopped. He heard something that resembled a person opening a very dusty bag of chips. Truck tires. He heard two pairs of boots get out and walk towards him. He felt the sun dim as they stood over him and took this time to open his eyes. Jeaned overalls. Hiking boots. Handkerchiefs. The color became too much. He had to close his eyes. 

"Is he dead?" One of them said with a thick Southern accent. 

The other man bent down and pressed his two forefingers against the side of Michael's neck feeling for a pulse. 

"Yeah. Just extremely dehydrated." 

"The Altruists will like this one. How much you think we gonna get on old swade bucks over here?"

"Eh, he ain't that young. Probably around $70. Get us a couple of beers at the Yellow Jack Inn probably."

Michael heard the sound of a truck opening and felt his arms being hoisted up. 

"You get his legs and I'll grab his arms. Make sure not to hit his head now."

Michael's shoulder joints and hips groaned in protest to having to support his weight as he was lifted off the sand and thrown harshly into a truck bed that smelled of booze, piss and shit and almost banged his head on the side when these two began driving like fucking drunk assholes which they probably were. He pushed himself up although his stomach felt as though a million prickles were currently punching inside his intestines. His breath was coming out short and everything was blurry. This poor fucking excuse for driving skills wasn't helping either. 

Michael tried to speak but nothing came out. His stomach turned over again and he found his body forcing his head back down into the hot metal of the truck bed. He was running in and out of consciousness and there were blue lights everywhere. He had to stay awake. He wasn't about to get his ass eaten by a bunch of Cannibalistic elders. 

"Hey, you! Speak any English! Passaporto asshole!"

Oh, God. These fuckers again. Border Patrol.  This day just kept getting better and better. He heard the two drivers get shot and their bodies were thrown out on the street like it was nothing. He heard the border patrol bandits begin rummaging through the stuff grumbling over the number of porn magazines and trash that were left in the seats. The flatbed was opened and Michael made sure to hold still and keep his eyes closed. Maybe then these fucking pricks would leave them on the side of the road like they did those two drunk assholes who were going to take him to be eaten by a bunch of crazy cannibals 

Two of the racists crawled into the flatbed and began searching his pockets. One of them removed his jacket and tossed it to the other guy on his bike to search thoroughly. The other one roughly ripped off his tie and began to undo his shirt and tossed both to the side. 

The other guy lifted his foot and said to his buddy "Hey. Recon we could get bout a grand for these."

"Yeah. And that tie got to be worth at least forty down at that pawn shop."

The man held up his wrist. "Look at this."

"Wedding ring. Nice." 

Michael tried to push them away once they did that but ended up falling flat on his face. He was too weak. The two just laughed at him as they ripped off his wedding ring and watch. They pulled own his pants and boxers and threw him out onto the side of the road face first. Michael tried to pick himself up by his elbows but gravity pulled him back down. 

"Should we kill em?"

"Naw. Leave him here. In his state, I give em a couple hours."

"What he gets for being a rich asshole."

Michael listened to the three of them step on their bikes and drive off. One of them took the truck. He was alone. It was probably a bad thing when he had been drugged, thrown out of car half naked and left in the middle of nowhere now twice this year. At least it wasn't his son this time. Fuck. The hell was happening?

There was a squauk of jean legs rubbing aginst each other fast approaching. 

Fucking fantastic. Now he was about to get molested by some hippie hobo. 

"Kifflom Brother Zolag!"

Marnie? What was-

That was it. The voice who Franklin was talking to. 

But what did Marnie want with him? He robbed their cult and played them all for fools. Unless she was here to kill him. 

Oh fucking well. 

"It's okay. You don't have to speak. The whole process can be quite...stressful." 

Oh yeah somebody was about to have a stressful process alright. And it wasn't going to be fucking him. He had to get back home to Tracey, Amanda, and Jimmy. And Franklin needed him. But he was stuck out here in Sandy Shores. Perhaps he shouldn't had robbed that cult...

Stupid!

"Oh and look. Here comes your friend now. I will see you again to explain what is going on but before that you need to be in a healthy state to be able to do so. I will see you again. Kifflom Brother Zolag."

Chapter Text

3:00 am, November 9th, 2013, Franklin's Crib, Reality C:

There was something annoying about having Michael around and it wasn't the normal annoying preachy shit that both he and Trevor insisted on always dragging Franklin into. It was the big ass elephant in the room whenever he and Michael did anything together. It had been brought up before but only as a joke. 

It wasn't really like that. 

And it wasn't really a big deal. 

But if it wasn't a big deal then why was he doing push-ups in the rain at three in the morning thinking about it? Fuck!

Couldn't even exercise in peace!

Fuck!

Franklin stood and went over to his pool deck and questioned whether he ought to swim or not. Well he already was wet but the cold water and the silence was not good for trying to get out of one's own head. Fucking stupid ass-

Franklin shoved the glass slider open and stomped in as he trailed water into his bedroom. It looked like those cartoon slug trails. He felt like a slug. Fuck!

He collapsed on the bed in a heap of sweat, rain and sheets. He'd clean them later. He was just about to drifit to sleep when a sudden banging at the door caused him to spring up. Probably fucking Lamar. Franklin groaned into his sheets before stomping up to the door like a toddler who had just been told he couldn't have a cookie and swung the door open without even bothering to look through the keyhole. 

"Lamar I swear to God if you got in another fight with the Vagos-uh...Jane? What are you-"

"YOU FUCKING MORON!"

"I-"

"DID YOU FUCKING PUT THE ANSWERS TO OUR WELLNESS QUIZ ON THE FUCKING INTERNET SO THE FUCKING CULTISTS COULD SEE IT?"

"Which Cultists? You're gonna have to be more specific-"

"THE EPSILON! FUCKING EPSILON!" 

Franklin put his arms up to calm her. "Okay. Let's just take a deep breath."

"THAT SLEAZY POLO WEARING BITCH IS GONNA BE HERE ANY SECOND! WE'RE DEAD! WE'RE ALL FUCKING DEAD!"

"Do I need to call someone or-"

Jane sucked in a deep breath through her nose and pushed her wet short hair out of her face. Her eyeliner had started to run in the rainwater making her look as though she was crying black tears. Her lips were quivering presumably because of the cold and she was nervously tapping her fingers on her upper thighs as though she was trying to peel her own skin off inch by inch. There was something unsettling about this but Franklin was much too tired to care. He sighed and pulled his arm off the door frame. 

"It's still raining. You want to come in and get something to drink?"

She looked down and ran her hands through her hair. "No. But I do need your help to carry in the two specimens from Reality five D."

"What?"

Jane's eyes flashed in annoyance at his confusion. "Just come with me. We'll set them on the couch back there. Marnie will be here soon. The Children of the Mountain do not normally work with those pathetic cultists but now I fear we have no choice but to." She beckoned for Franklin to follow her and he did. He had his gun so if this was some sort of kidnapping he could prevent that outcome. Besides he was like twice Jane's size so he dared her to try it for his own amusement. 

He flinched as the piercing cold rain touched his bare shoulders and felt like a bit of pussy when he saw how little it affected Jane. They walked to the trunk of her sleek black Issi and she pressed down a button on her keys which unsurprisingly had a Children of the Mountain key chain attached to them. Franklin had to admit they had style. He still wore the t-shirt he got after answering those dumb questions in that spam email. Never in public though. He shuttered thinking about being associated with them in any way. 

In the flash of the lighting, Franklin felt his breath jump into his throat when he saw the faces of Michael and Trevor. Their hands were tied with black tape in a praying position and their legs were tied in a bent position behind their backs. Their foreheads were tainted with black bruises indicating they had been knocked into unconsciousness. It was kind of unsettling on how innocent they both looked when unconscious. One would have never guessed the many gross atrocities the both of them had committed and one would faint if they saw the number of life sentences the two had racked up between them. 

Jane clicked her tongue and shook her head as she stared at them. "Found them wandering around on Power Street. One of the clerks at SubUrban told us they just popped in out of nowhere. Must have been where they spawned. Could see the auroras bending from a mile away. I'm gonna kill that fucking polo asshole when this is all over if we don't fucking get sucked into a black hole of a collapsing universe first. Fucking idiot. Alright. You grab the fat one and I'll grab the meth dealer." 

Franklin had to stiffen his laughter at that last part. He watched Jane bend over and scoop up Trevor while squinching her nose at most likely the smell of a coyote intestines Trevor ran over for fun and then cleaned off the tires with his bare hands.

Franklin was appalled when the three of them went out to that drive-in movie night for An American Divorce in the Grand Senora Desert after Trevor ran over a panther all while laughing like a hyena on crack and then proceeded to scrape off the remains with his bare hands as the opening dramatic credits rolled. Michael didn't seem to care and just set up the sound system while going on about how he and Trevor almost died when a tornado passed through while they were at one of these movie things back in Carcer City and yelled over his shoulder at Trevor for having a severe lack of modern technology in his car to which Trevor responded with the oh too common "not good enough for you swade bucks?" while cackling about a money shot Cletus would have apparently loved. By the time Trevor climbed in smelling worse than death Michael was already shoving boxed popcorn and P's and Q's into their hands while going on and on about all the various cinematography shots and how he actually had gotten see the real pistol used in the movie in the studio he worked at now and how he just had to take them to see it someday. And as sure as the sun sets in the east the two of them got into a squabble over the stink of flesh all over Trevor's arms all whilst Franklin rolled his eyes and tried not to get bit by every fucking mosquito in Blaine County. 

Jane heaved as she carried Trevor to the opened door and Franklin bent over to do the same to Michael whilst simultaneously pressing the automatically close button to the trunk. He walked over to the door and slammed in with his foot as he passed. He silently prayed not to fall on his ass as he walked down the stairs to the living room and placed Michael in what he hoped was a somewhat comfortable position. 

Jane clapped her hands and motioned towards the two of them lying there. "Now I'm not sure if these are the ones the you in another reality killed so best not to untie them for now in case they recognize you. They might freak the fuck out and strangle you or some shit. Bill took their guns away but still. Never know what these mental people are capable of nowadays. A little enlightenment would do both their souls some good."

Franklin looked over at her. "What?"

She waved him off as she walked over to his kitchen helping herself to his various selections of fine wines and unused glasses. Lester had picked most of them out as Franklin wasn't really a wine man himself but he found himself enjoying it more and more even if Lamar claimed it made him look like a homo when he stirred the wine like a fourty-year-old wine mom. She picked an unopened bottle of pomegranate flavored bottle of Highmen Group. The room was filled with the sound of her expensive nail job scrapping off the foil around the cap as Franklin's mind went back to the elephant in the room. It was stupid to devote some much time and energy to wrestling over but then again letting in a cult leader into his home at three in the morning with two of his mentors tied up and unconscious in the back of her car was stupid as well but then again it was too earlier to care. 

The silence was broken by a loud popping noise coming from the window near the porch. Franklin watched something resembling a humanoid shape begin to take form as the pops got louder and louder. He looked over to Jane but she was just sipping her wine and staring at the occurrence with all the enthusiasm of watching a boring Monday morning cartoon that only drunk unemployed addicts would see. Soon Franklin recognized the form as Trevor and watched him heap over into the floor. 

Another Trevor?

What in the fuck-

"I'm gonna go get the tape. Also, don't touch him until I get back. I heard the last Trevor almost burned someone's skin off after someone touched him after he went through the Nothingness." 

He listened to the click of her expensive shoes against his wood floors as she went off to fetch the tape. He walked over with cation to the Trevor on the floor who was currently making a gurgling noise and shaking violently. Franklin could feel his unusually high body temperature from where he was standing. It was as though someone had covered him in gasoline and set him on fire. 

By the time Jane returned the body temperature had gone down and she got to work tapping his arms and legs behind his back the air around the Trevor had gone cold. He helped Jane lift him over the other couch and the skin on this Trevor felt like the metal on a pan that had been in the oven for a long time and was in its first stages of cooling. As soon as they set him down Jane began rubbing her hands together as though she had something sticky she needed to get off. Franklin couldn't really blame her. Trevor could probably name the month he last took a real full body shower. 

"You're being surprisingly calm about this entire thing."

Franklin shrugged. "I've found it's best to keep a calm deminer in the face of craziness. Cool heads prevail after all?" It was a fact more than a question. It seemed every group Franklin had ever been put in or forced into he was the calmer and more collected one. Trevor was a terrifying psycho who he somehow found enduring although Trevor scared the everloving shit out of him at times and Michael could just be as fucking terrifying if he wanted to be. Still had fucking nightmares over having a gun pressed against his head although it helped a little to know Michael had cry sessions in cars from Jimmy. Jimmy was quite the little snitch. No wonder Trevor was always trying to get information out of him about Michael and Franklin. 

Jane rolled her neck and hummed approvingly. "I suppose. Won't be that way when we're all dead though."

"Girl what are you talking about? You keep saying that."

She threw her hands up and motioned like an orchestra director across the room. "Look around you."

"Yeah, I see that. But what the fuck this got to do with me?" 

"I think you already know the answer to that."

"No, I really don't."

Jane turned to face him and grabbed both of his hands in hers while smiling softly as though he were a child who had just broken his favorite toy and she now had to explain to him the responsibilities of the world. "Franklin...I think we both know that's not quite true."

"Okay? So what truth do we both know?"

"This house, this world, this everything is something you aren't used to. I can tell by the unopened wine bottles in the cabinets over there and how every time you pace the room you seem to find something new to enjoy to stare at. You didn't design this house or pick it. Someone else did it for you. You didn't choose the life of a gangster. Your upbringing did that for you."

Franklin started to feel uncomfortable. "And you know these things how exactly? Because it seems like a lot of untrue bullshit you are just pulling out of your ass right now."

"No. Not bullshit. Truth. I can see things because I have cleared my mind from the various obstacles of this world."

"I think it's more like living in denial of your problems more than anything else."

Jane didn't respond to that. "I mean it is such a shame that your father left you. And before you were even born too. Your own mother chose drugs over you and then left you to raise yourself and left you with grandparents who came from a different world than the one you were used to. No wonder you have such trust issues." 

Franklin tried to pull his hands away but Jane gripped them tighter. Tight enough to bruise. "I uh-"

Jane tilted her head and gritted her teeth and tightened her jaw as though she was about to headbutt a concrete wall. "They gave everything for you and you never appreciated it until they met their untimely end. Maybe it's a good thing your loving grandmother didn't remember you as she lay dying in that hospital bed. And where were you as your grandfather died from that brain aneurysm? Oh, that's right. Off smoking dope somewhere with Lamar. And where is Lamar? Haven't seen him around in a couple of days have you?  It's easy to ignore your problems and it's easy to run away for them. You can hide from everyone else but you can't hide from the Children of the Mountain. We know everything about you. Sure you may have caused this whole thing but I will personally see to it that you pay for it in the afterlife when we all perish in a blaze of fucking anti-gravity space warping shit."

"Okay. Whatever you say." Franklin yanked his hands away this time and took a step back just as another loud popping noise sounded beside them. The room got colder and colder as though the fridge had been left open. 

"Fuck! Another one!" 

The same happened before when that other Trevor came through the portal. (Franklin didn't really know what to call wherever it was these other Trevors were spawning from) Only this time it wasn't Trevor. It was 

"Michael!" Without thinking Franklin leaped forward and caught the Michael in his arms. Unlike the Trevor that spawned by his window, this Michael was somewhat conscious, cold and bleeding from his nose and the back of his head. His eyes were dimming as though the life was being sucked out of his body and based on the size of that gash, Franklin could assume that the first assessment wasn't far from the truth. 

"You complete fucking idiot! Why would you-"

"What's wrong with him!"

"Oh relax would you. The clerk at SubUrban said the other one did the same thing. Honestly, it's not-"

"Shut up. He's trying to talk."

"Kid...falling...why...I...friends..." Michael was breathing heavily as though he had had the wind knocked out of him. He was dehydrated based on his chapped lips and dry sweat but was cold to the touch. His forehead was bruised like the other Michael's. 

"It'll be alright man." Franklin patted his shoulder in what he hoped was somewhat of a comforting manner. Michael started violently shaking and his teeth were chattering. His skin was growing colder and colder. 

"We have to do something. He's going to die if we don't-"

"He's not going to die for the hundredth time. At least not yet thanks to that little stunt of yours."

Franklin ignored Jane's bitter response and carried Michael downstairs to his room and heard the clicks of Jane's shoes following him. Seeing Michael like this was honestly fucking terrifying. He looked so weak and appeared to be in a lot of pain. He had seen this man take a bullet to the chest and live to tell the tale. Michael was always the strongest of the group and seeing him in this state was concerning. 

He laid Michael down on the part of the bed that wasn't outlined sweat figure and quickly began running to the closet to fetch some more blankets and then coming back to wrap Michael in them. There was blood all over the white sheets when he got back. Jane just looked on with masked disgust and utter confusion as Franklin began wrapping Michael up to his chin in blankets to stop the shivering. 

He grabbed the first aid kit off the counter near the bed and began trying to tend to the gaping wound on the back of Michael's head that only seemed to be spreading. 

"Your bathroom is in your room?" 

Franklin growled and glared at Jane. "Seriously? Now?"

"But doesn't it feel awkward to take a shit like seven feet from your bed? What if it smells? Whoever designed this place has terrible taste."

"Fuck you. Michael's dying over here and you're asking stupid questions!"

Jane held up her hands defensively. "Whoa. I was just curious. Chill the fuck out. He's not going to die. See."

As soon as she said that, Michael began to clench his jaw and raise his hands to his forehead. He looked to be in intense pain but then the blood stopped as the gash was sealing itself as quickly as it had just been opening up. His nose stopped bleeding too and Franklin left him to go grab a washcloth dipped in warm water to dry the blood off Michael's face. When he turned around from the sink he saw Jane had walked over to Michael's side of the bed and tilted her head and leaned over to get a closer look at his face. She then took her index and middle finger on her right hand and placed it square in the center of his forehead.

"Hey! What are you doing! Get away from him!" Franklin was over to her in a second.

"Relax. I was just putting him to sleep with his pressure points. He seemed like he was in pain. You're welcome." Jane walked off to watch the sunrise from the windows by the oversized bathtub while Franklin sat on the edge of the bed and began gently dabbing the washcloth above Michael's lips and below his nose. He made slow circles careful not to leave any scratches. Jane was still watching the sunrise as Franklin went to the sink to get a fresh washcloth with warm water. He returned to Michael and gently pushed his dark hair off his forehead before softly dabbing it with the washcloth. At least Michael was asleep now. 

"If you're done with whatever that was I am going to go get the tape."

"No! Are you crazy? We aren't tying him up!"

"So what are you going to do if when he wakes up? He could be a Michael from a reality where you betrayed him or tried to have him killed or you and he haven't met yet. He could be from a reality where he is some kind of terrorist who killed an entire kindergarten classroom. What if he attacks us?"

"Michael would never hurt me. And he wouldn't hurt a woman or child either. He couldn't even shoot me when I broke into his house."

"Funny. Devin Weston said the exact same fucking thing."

"Ah fuck you. Michael didn't have shit to do with what happened to Molly."

"Mmmm. And who told you that? Michael? Face it, Franklin. He can't be trusted."

"Alright if you want to be like that, he's too weak to try and attack us."

"Did you see the other Michael and Trevors upstairs? They're recovering. This one will most likely do the same."

A sense of relief washed over Franklin at that. Good. Michael was going to recover. He was going to be okay. Franklin flicked off a piece of hair from Michael's forehead that was bothering him. 

"Besides why in the fuck is this Michael getting special treatment?"

Franklin just shrugged. Truth was he didn't know why. It was almost as if he felt cosmically responsible for what this Michael had endured. The way he clung to Franklin's shirt just now was spooky. Michael didn't get like this. Not even when he got shitfaced. Which Franklin had only seen once. And secretly he never wanted to have the displeasure of witnessing again. He had never seen a man emotionally crumble in seconds like that before. Especially not Michael.

Trevor was there too and if it freaked him out as well he did a good job of not showing it. Just rubbing small circles on Michael's shoulder blades and listening to Michael drunkenly ramble off every person he had ever let down in any form or fashion in alphabetical order. Then he started talking about father which got Trevor's attention more so than the sobbing drunk apologies to both of them. Before Franklin could fully process what was going on Trevor was gently pulling the half-emptied whiskey shot out of Michael's hand and leading him back to his truck. Franklin followed them and saw Trevor wrapping his arms around Michael as he continued to go into immense details about a certain incident involving a spoon, a long night of drinking, and lasting emotional trauma. When Michael had embarrassingly enough asked him about it the next day Franklin lied saying he left earlier and didn't hear a thing.

Based on how quickly Trevor removed him from the crowd of people meant those fucking disgusting things probably weren't things Franklin was supposed to hear. He hung up before Michael could ask him any more questions and decided to have a new wifi router hooked up to his house that week which just so happened to black texts and calls to his phone. Whoopsies.

Michael had to always go and make things...fucking weird. Giant fucking elephant in the room indeed.

His thoughts were interrupted by another banging at the door. Jane mumbled something about fucking cultists and Franklin made one more quick glance towards the Michael in his bed before following Jane up the stairs and to the front door. Some woman with an Epsilon blue polo tucked into skinny jeans and braided tied up blonde hair was standing there fidgetting with various tags and bracelets on her arm nervously.  

"Where were you? You were supposed to be here an hour ago!" Jane narrowed her eyes towards the woman as she squirmed uncomfortably under the intense gaze.

"I was but then two more came out of the nothingness behind Morningwood and I had to inform my program head of these developments before loading them into my car and coming here."

"There's more!" The surprise and anger in Jane's voice were not lost on Franklin. 

The woman glanced over at Franklin and back at Jane. "Have you debriefed him?"

"No. I thought you were going to do that."  Jane snorted. 

The Epsilon woman growled. "Why would I do it? You're the one who was here first!"

"Well, I just thought because I am such a disgusting heretic that you would want to do it. You know just so I don't pervert poor Franklin here with my horrible ideas of inner peace and acceptance." 

The two just stared at each other reminding Franklin of those girls he went to high school with who acted like someone wearing the same clothes as them was a national emergency. In those situations, he found it best not to say anything at all as saying something would be taken the wrong way and he would be thought of as choosing a side. He used a similar tactic when dealing with the whole "Brad" fiasco with Michael and Trevor and when Michael's wife and son kept calling him while they were away to ask if he was alright and when Lamar, Tanisha, and his aunt had teamed up against him because he dared tried to make a life for himself and his future family that wasn't slinging dope and throwing up gang signs.  Just staying as much as he could out of it. Defend one side as much as he could to prove to outsiders he was still their friend but not enough as to take the other side. It worked then and it should work for whatever THIS was. 

The Epsilon woman was the first to break the silence. "I have four of them in my car. Let's bring them in and explain to him what's going on. Then we'll see where the Trevor and Michael from this reality are and that should give us an estimate on how much time we have before They come."

"You tied them up right?"

"Yes, Jane I tied them up? What do you think I'm stupid or something! You know what. Don't even answer that!" 

Franklin sighed and followed them both out to a blue car with Epsilon stickers all over it and kifflom symbols. It had stopped raining and the driveway dips had pooled with rainwater that was starting to evaporate back into the sky in the harsh morning sunlight. How did he always get pulled into these situations? His life had slowly become some wacky comedic film of chance and luck. Or misfortune. Or misfortune that had turned into luck. Jane snapped her fingers in his face.

"Earth to Franklin! You just gonna stand around galking at mother nature like some overpaid producer of a half-truth documentary film or are you actually gonna help around here!"

Jesus Christ why did every woman he came into contact with have to be some form of his aunt?

The first thing he noticed about the two Michaels and the two Trevors was that the Michael closest to him had severe burns all over the left side of his face and was missing his left arm. Patches of missing hair replaced by burn scars and an open gazed over eye gazed back at Franklin. The other Michael looked like the Michael Franklin knew except he was wearing what could only be described as the loudest and obnoxious Hawian shirt and neon green shorts Franklin had ever seen. The other Trevor beside him was wearing the exact same thing. He helped carry the four in one by one laying them out on the blood-red couches like sardines in a can before he noticed something wrong with the two Trevors. 

Firstly their necks were missing the CUT HERE dotted tattoos. Franklin remembered when he first met Trevor and that was all he could stare at mostly because Trevor got all up in his face as soon as he arrived asking him about who he was, how he knew Michael and about every other fucking government problem before turning back to harass the helicopter pilot without waiting for a coherent answer that didn't start with "uh..." Then Michael arrived. Thank God for small miracles. After that Trevor showed up to his house and saved him and Lamar's life and proceeded to lecture Franklin on loyalty. 

 "Whoa whoa whoa hey buddy buddy. Listen Lamar is your friend alright. Has been for years. Show him some loyalty okay? What you think Michael's gonna be loyal to you? You can't buy that. You can't find that on the street. I was Michael's best friend and he let me think he was dead for ten years. You're a cheap gun who he's only just met."

It got even weirder when the next day Trevor showed up on a motorbike to his house. 

Franklin hung up the phone. Man Stretch was pissed. He should text Lamar. Let him know what was going on although why bother? Stupid Lamar and stupid daddy issues he had. It had always been like this for Lamar. Latching onto the first older male who paid him any mind. It was the exact same way with their baseball coach "Happy Hands Hollahand".

"Franklin! Your misogynist asshole pal is here to see you!" 

Oh great. That was probably JB wanting Franklin to cover for him again. 

"Franklin!"

"I said I'm coming! Calm the fuck down Denise!"

Franklin shoved his phone into his pocket and went to the door and almost jumped back ten feet when he saw Trevor standing there.

"Hey, Frank!"  Trevor said it with enthusiasm and was practically vibrating from all the drugs he was on. 

"Uh...hey man...what's...what's up?" Franklin looked around and didn't see Michael anywhere. Just a fancy looking blue motorcycle on the curb. Trevor didn't look mad or anything. 

Trevor looked down and nervously scratched the back of his neck. Jesus Michael and Trevor really were alike in a lot of ways. That was what was creep about this whole thing. Michael leaving Franklin in the dark about what was going on. Franklin almost knew what Trevor was going to say.

"So...um...since we didn't really get to talk a whole lot about each other last time-"

"Yesterday. It was yesterday."

"Right. So yesterday we didn't get to talk a whole bunch I was wondering if you would like to come and get a drink with me. You know...as friends...like not in a weird way or anything like that..."

Franklin bit back a chuckle when Trevor said that. Just like Michael who also acted like asking Franklin to hang out was some nerve-racking experience. Maybe it was. Franklin didn't think of himself as all that scary.  Franklin was terrified of Trevor but yet here Trevor was fiddling his hands and nervously swaying his hips at his shared house's doorstep. 

Trevor must have sensed Franklin's discomfort because he started pointing the blue motorcycle. "I know you like bikes so...I also got you a helmet...cause you seem to like the color blue"

"Well, green is my favorite color..."

"Oh."

"But blue is...also a good color I guess."

"...and you know...we can go anywhere you want...in fact we don't even have to drink...we could see a movie or like...go to the pier...or um..."

Franklin sighed. "Alright, man. Sounds good. I just would have preferred a little warning next time. Lester gave you my number right?"

Trevor looked down at his phone pocket like the thought hadn't even occurred to him. "Oh...yeah..."

"I heard Hookies is offering half-off drinks so-"

"Oh...um...I kind of killed a pal of the owners and started a turf war because of it."

"Alright then."

The second thing Franklin noticed after that was the lack of a certain RIP tattoo. He first noticed it before they went to rob the Merryweather pricks down by the docks when Trevor got all in his face again. The entire thing between them was hard to deal with especially when Michael insisted on tanking every attempt at a productive discussion with his lies and aversion tactics. 

Everything seemed to be all set up for the big one. Franklin was ready to go home and get some well deserved rest but he just had to know what the fuck was going on. 

"So how you feeling about this?"

Michael beamed at him from the driver's seat. "I'm feeling pretty good! We got Lester planning it. He'll get us options. There's you a guy I know I can depend on and then there's...Trevor."

The smile went away and Michael went back to focusing on the road. It wasn't really fair how Michael always wanted to cast judgment out on Trevor when he was guilty of almost all the same stuff. Michael's sanity was slowly being chipped away. Franklin could just feel it.

"Yeah, Trevor'll get it done."

"Will he? Yeah, I hope so man. I hope he holds it together."

"Eh you ain't done too good a job at that yourself you feel me?"

Michael clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes at the road as though he were trying to shoot laser beams from his eyes out into the street. "Yeah well, I ain't pissed off hillbillies, bikers, a Mexican gang, a private army, and some Chinese gangsters okay? So there's that."

"Yeah but YOU pissed off the  FIB, the IAA, and your family man. You know what I met Amanda and I know who scares me the most."

Even though Michael had even him over to his house many many times after the last score and taking out everyone Franklin was still living in fear of being on the wrong side of Amanda. 

Michael chuckled at the last bit. "Point taken."

"So you gonna tell me about this Brad dude and the deal with the FIB. What happened up in North Yankton back in the day anyway?"

Michael nervously ticked his head and clenched the steering wheel. "This ain't the time."

"Man we about to go on the biggest job ever pulled. There ain't never goin' be a better time to fill me in on this shit."

"It's complicated alright." 

What the fuck? After everything, they had been through together.

"Man fuck it. I'ma ask Trevor." 

Michael's head spun at that and his eyes widened. "Don't ask Trevor!"

Franklin narrowed his eyes towards him. "Shit man. You sound shady dog. Real shady."

"We'll talk alright? Just...later."

Yeah Franklin didn't believe that either. That talk was never going to come. But Michael was already riled up and closing the walls to Franklin fast. 

Later did come. And it didn't come from Michael. 

It came from a talk from Lamar and Trevor he overheard while snoozing and then when Trevor threatened him on his aunt's doorstep as he was moving out. Then he saved Michael's ass from a meat hook. 

It was a lot to take in. Knowing the man who was sitting beside him and bleeding all over the leather seats of some gangsters car had turned on his best friend. And for what? 

So Michael could be free? So his wife could have a nice house and tennis coaches and yoga instructors to screw? So Tracey won't be lured in by pimps and Jimmy by drug dealers? So Michael could sit alone in his house all day simmering in guilt until he or the universe decided to cut the cord on his miserable, pathetic life?

"Franklin baby! I can't thank you enough!"

"It's nothing. It's what friends are for." 

Franklin wanted to smack himself for the last bit. What a fucking terrible line to lead with given the current circumstances.

"Yeah. Not all friends."

Un-fucking-believable.

"From what I heard...yeah...maybe not."

"Yeah, you heard right. Fucking Trevor. Guy freaks the fuck out on me. We're up there in North Yankton, right? And he goes off on one over-anyways he's about to kill me, Franklin. Then these Chinese guys show up out of nowhere and he runs and next thing I know I'm back in Los Santos on a fucking meat hook." 

Three lies in a row. Trevor was right. Michael couldn't be trusted. And he had zero self-awareness. Zero. Fucking asshole.

"Well, you off the hook now."

Michael looked over at him and smiled. Well as much as he could pull off with all the bruises, welts scratches and cuts all over his face, arms, leg and body. It was hard to look at and made Franklin wonder what the fuck had happened in that warehouse. Michael certainly wasn't going to tell him. 

"Yeah, thanks to you." Michael squeezed his shoulder affectionately as he said it. "Say how'd you find me? Did my family look for me?"

It was near impossible to stay mad at Michael when he got all...cozy like this.

"No bro...I think...I think they still away. Me and Lester thought something was up. Then I spoke to Trevor and he said the Chinese had you."

"TREVOR told you?"

"Shit not willingly. But yeah he told me." 

They stopped at a stop sign and Michael chewed his lip angrily. One of the cuts on his upper bicep broke open and started trickling blood like small skinny fingers reaching down to his elbow. 

"Go fucking figure."

"Man he is angry at your ass. Way more than the normal middle-aged shit that y'all do."

"Yeah well if he wants to have it out Franklin I got news for you. He knows where to fucking find me."

They were both so stupid. So fucking stupid. Franklin grinded his teeth. 

"I saved your ass so you can kill each other? I thought we was in business together! The Union Depository?"

"Yeah, that might have to wait bud. But you're alright. You got that car thing in the meantime."

"Actually I don't got that car thing. We got the last rides in and Devin Weston stung us on the fucking pay. He putting it in an investment fund."

Franklin squeezed his nose at the memory. Fucking Devin Weston. Asshole. And those bruises on Molly? What a fucking douche bag. 

"Really?"

"Yeah really? What we gonna fucking do?"

"Hey look. An investment fund ain't the worst idea in the world." Franklin's discontent must have shown on his face because a fear jumped into Michael's eyes when he looked back at Franklin. "I got this thing with Devin Weston down at the movie studio. We see how that plays out then we'll talk to him about your payment."

"Man it sounds like I'm getting fucking screwed."

Franklin jumped when Michael hit the steering wheel with his fist. "We'll deal with it, Franklin! Jesus! Still feel like I'm hanging upside down from my ankles just let me adjust for a while and I'll come up with a plan." 

Franklin rolled his eyes and undid his seatbelt Michael had put on him as they rolled up to Michael's house. "Yeah whatever man."

Franklin had trusted Michael but turns out he was a rat and a snake and a liar and a hypocrite and an asshole. Fuck! This is exactly what Franklin knew was going to happen. 

Should've listened to Trevor.

Should've listened to Lamar. 

Should've listened to Tanisha.

Should've listened to Denise. 

Fuck! Even Stretch was right! He deserved to be fucked over for being such a fucking idiot! Goddamn!

"Yeah, I'll see you."

"For sure."

Franklin jumped out as soon as the car came to a stop and began angrily speed walking down the sidewalk before hearing Michael say "Hey you sure you don't want to come in?"

Franklin flipped around. "What? To your big ass empty house? Dog I'm depressed enough already!"

Michael shrugged and looked a bit hurt by the rejection. "Alright then. Well, listen thanks."

Franklin began to walk away...he was going to regret this. But he just had to know.

"Look man before you go...what the fuck happened up there?"

Michael turned around and shrugged dramatically. "I said Trevor went crazy, tried to kill me, I got jumped by the Chinese."

"Man before all that. I'm talking about the Feds, Trevor, this guy Brad-"

"I know what you meant!" 

There was something in those eyes. It was something Franklin had never been able to place his finger on what it could be but now it made sense.

It wasn't anger.

It wasn't sadness.

It was guilt. 

No. Worse.

Remorse. 

And as though the pieces came together it clicked nicely in Franklin's mind and he felt his own anger simmering down. He was getting to see the real Michael for possibly the first time. Trevor had hit it on the money. Michael was crying inside and everyone around him had better fear the day when it all came boiling to the surface.

Michael sighed. "Alright look. I made a judgment call. I don't know if it was the right one. I did what I thought I had to do."

And the anger was back. Franklin began walking away. He wasn't going to listen to more of Michael's excuses. If he wasn't going to be straight and out with it than it wasn't worth his time.

"I had a young family Franklin. I was running with a crew of crazy motherfuckers with nothing to lose. I saw an out. A future for me, for my family. I took it."

Franklin turned to Michael. "You took it? Man you burned every motherfucker you've ever known." 

"It was that or die."

Franklin growled and started to walk away again before he felt Michael grab his wrist and gently to turn him to face him. Franklin looked at the sidewalk. 

"Look. I know it sounds cold. I don't expect you to understand it. Not yet but you will. When you got ties of your own."

Tanisha had said something similar when she broke up with him. She wasn't a gangster and she never was. And neither was Franklin. Franklin looked up and didn't expect to see the sadness Michael had allowed to seep into his facial expression. He looked so vulnerable. 

"Look you wake up one day and your legs...they just give. And you can't run anymore." 

"I think that's all of them." The Epsilon girl wiped her brow as though she had done a hard day's work. Based on her twig figure Franklin could take a guess she had never done a hard days work in her life. 

Jane scoffed. "Why the hell is his arm not tied up? Marnie you fucking moron!" She gestured crudely towards the burned Michael with one arm in blue striped pajamas. It was hard for Franklin to look at. He knew it wasn't his Michael per say but...knowing that still didn't make it any easier for him to look at. 

Marnie rolled her eyes cheerfully. "He only has one arm and no weapons. How much of a threat can he be?"

Franklin looked over towards her with uncertainty. "I don't know about that. Dude faked his death twice that I know of and got the world's angriest psychopath to not kill him so I don't know. Jane's right. We should at least try and restrain him." 

"He has one downstairs." Jane bite off some dead skin on her finger as she said it showing off her pearly white teeth. 

"He has a Brother Zolag downstairs?"   

Jane motioned for Marnie to follow her and the two went downstairs. Franklin began to follow them too before he felt something wrap around his neck putting him in a headlock and pointing a gun to his temple. 

"That's a nine millimeter semi-automatic pushed against your skull. Don't look around. Just back up with me nice and easy." 

Fucking one-armed Michael. But how the fuck-

The drawer. 

By the couch. 

Where he kept his scissors he used for cutting magazines.

Stupid. 

Unsurprisingly or surprisingly the zip ties on the Trevor wearing nothing by PJ bottoms and white socks were cut off too and was now spreading out his legs and arms in a much more comfortable fashion. 

"Now don't try anything stupid now."

Franklin just sighed. Michael had already put a gun up to his head once and this Michael was no different considering the fact he was talking like he was out of some famous crime thriller movie. "Why? I know you won't shoot me. And if you are going to it's not because you want to. Face it Michael. You're too much of a goodie two shoes."

The arm loosen a little at that. "How do you know my name?"

"Look, man. This whole situation is fucked up. If you just put down the gun and we can talk like adults."

The burned Michael snorted at that. "Oh yeah? Think I'm fucking stupid."

"I see you untied Trevor."

"How do you know-"

"Look around you man."

The arm tightened when the burned Michael realized what he was looking at. "What is...is this some kind of...FIB...thing...?"

"Nah, man. I don't work with the FIB. In fact, I helped kill one of their bosses recently and one of their main supporters and the Merryweather dudes."

The burned Michael didn't say anything. Just breathed in deeply as though pondering the entire thing. His Michael did the exact same fucking thing too. Fucking classic. 

"You know the irony is is that we are actually friends in this reality and met in a similar way to this actually. I was repoing this reality's Michael's son Jimmy's car when he was behind on his payments. Put a gun to the back of my head just like you doing now. Scared the shit out of me."

"Jimmy? My family...their...their alive?"

The arm came off Franklin's neck and he was being spun around to face the half-burned off face. The eye that wasn't glazed over was wide and alert staring at Franklin as though he were about to tell this Michael some huge secret. "What...what are they like?"

"Who?"

"My family...Jimmy...Tracey...Amanda...they're all...are they here now?"

"Uh...what? No. Not here in this house no."

Just then the Trevor with the pj bottoms and no CUT HERE tattoo began to stir. The burned Michael went over to him immediately and touched his shoulder softly. This Trevor looked years younger than the Trevor from Franklin's reality. Then again his Trevor looked like he had aged ten years in ten months for the past ten years. Probably the meth.

"What the fuck did you do to him? Why is he like this?"

"It wasn't me. That some reality-warping shit jet lag he's going through." 

The burned Michael raised a skeptical eyebrow towards him. The one that wasn't currently burned off in what looked like the worst motorcycle accident ever of course.

"I'm serious dog."

"FRANKLIN! YOU FUCKING JUDAS COCK SUCKING ASSHOLE!" 

The two turned to see the other Trevor who looked exactly like the Trevor from Franklin's reality struggling out of his restraints. 

Franklin turned to grab the scissors of the drawer and then felt stupid for even looking there. He turned towards the burnt Michael who was currently staring at the Trevor screaming every profanity towards Franklin he could think of. "Can I have my scissors back please?"

The burned Michael looked over to the screaming Trevor and back to Franklin. "Are...are you sure that's such a good idea? He seems pretty fucking mad."

"And he's only going to more pissed if we leave him tied up like a pig!"

The burned Michael shrugged. "Alright. Your funeral." He pulled the scissors out of his back pocket to return to Franklin. 

"My funeral? Fool he's more likely to try and kill you than me."

"Why would Trevor want to kill me?"

"Brad? The FIB? The IAA? North Yankton?"

The burned Michael looked confused and angry at the same time. "What the fuck are you talking about kid? I thought you said you weren't with the FIB and killed one of their leaders?" He got to his feet and began slowly walking towards Franklin. Menacing. Threatening. Rising anger.

"Hey look man I'll explain later." 

Franklin moved towards the flailing Trevor more to get away from the menacing burned Michael than anything else. His one eye followed Franklin. Watching him. Trying to see into his soul. 

Trevor almost kicked Franklin square in the fucking jaw when he undid his leg zip ties and sprang up and ran up to the burned Michael while his hands were still tied behind him. 

"You! You fucking snake! I should have shot your ass when I found out your two face ass was still breathing!" 

The zip tied Trevor attempted to kick the burned Michael in the face unsuccessfully as burned Michael grabbed the offending foot and threw the Trevor to the floor. His eye showed surprise at the offending Trevor whipping around on the floor and screaming like a howling wolf and his eye turns back to the Trevor without any tattoos and way fewer scars on the couch groaning about the noise. Franklin can practically hear his thoughts.

The burned Michael turns back to Franklin. "Is that...Trevor?"

"One of them. Yes." 

"Jesus." The burned Michael uses his single hand to run his hand through his hair and looks guilty back at the Trevor screaming with mucus and moister coming from his eyes. 

"Yeah and unless you want to meet Jesus today I suggest you take a step back." Franklin bent down to attempt to undo the zip ties and the burned Michael did as he was told. Stepping onto the couch as though there was a shark in the carpet. Franklin is kicked into the coffee table and the angry Trevor gets up in the burned Michael's face. 

"OH WHAT'S THE MATTER MIKEY! GET SOME GASOLINE ON YOUR FUCKING FACE TOO! LOOKS LIKE MR.VAIN AND PLASTIC WON'T BE ABLE TO PICK UP ANY HOOKERS ANY TIME SOON! WHAT! WHAT! YOU GOT NOTHING TO FUCKING SAY FOR YOURSELF!"

Franklin isn't too worried that this Trevor will hurt this Michael because well...

"What in God's name is going on up-AHHH!" Marnie and Jane came up the stairs and practically dropped the sick Michael square on his head after taking in the scene.

Franklin was on his feet immediately. "Be careful with him. Shit."

"Mikey...why the fuck is there a crack-addicted crazy psychopath in our house?"

Oh great. Looks like the other Trevor was awake now.

"I TAKE GLASS NOT CRACK! FUCK YOU! I'LL GET TO YOU IN A SECOND! AND MICHAEL YOU ASSHOLE! LEFT ME TO DIE IN THE DESSERT ON FIRE! AFTER I HELPED YOU WITH ALL YOUR SHIT WHY THE FUCK AM I NOT SUPRISED!"

"Who untied them and how are they awake already?" Jane glared over at Marnie.

"Don't look at me. My other self said it would take days before they were fully functional."

 "Well, your other self lied!"

Franklin as gently as he could pull the sick semi-conscious Michael over to the armchair by the piano and set him softly down before grabbing a cream colors fleece blanket neatly folded under the coffee table and draping it messily over him. 

"Michael, what the fuck is going on?"

The burned Michael looked over to the PJs Trevor who was now sitting up right and rubbing his eyes. 

"Don't look at me T. Ask that kid over there."

Franklin narrowed his eyes towards them as he inched towards the other pair of Trevor and Michael laying side by side on his couch with the scissors. "Kid? I'm twenty-five." 

The burned Michael raised his hand. "Fine. T, ask the fully grown man who drugged and brought us here."

"DON'T 'T' ME!" The angery Trevor stuck an offending finger into the center of the burned Michael's chest which he promptly flicked off. 

"I wasn't talking to you asshole." 

Marnie made the fatal mistake of attempting to get between the two of them. "Look. If you both would sit down I promise I will explain everything."

"About how you drugged us and brought us to some rich prissy house owned by a guy clearly with way too much time on his hands." 

"OH YOU'RE ONE TO TALK WITH YOU'RE MANSION ASSHOLE! AND FRANKLIN DIDN'T DRUG ME! HE CLEARLY FELT GUILT ABOUT BURNING ME IN GASOLINE!"

"Mansion? I suggest you open your eyes and watch what comes out of that fucking mouth of yours." 

This burned Michael was much more composed than the Michael Franklin was used to and it was quite unnerving. 

Jane rolled her eyes and went to stand beside Marnie. "Okay okay okay. No one drugged anyone. Now if you two are done measuring each other's dicks I suggest you sit the fuck down and shut the fuck." 

The burned Michael put his hand up and lowered himself down onto the couch beside the Trevor who now was looking like his spirit had left his body for a brief period of time. Honestly, Franklin couldn't blame him. 

"Fucking typical Mikey. Always wanting to be the good guy. Ah, fuck." Despite his words the pissed off Trevor took a begrudging seat on the ottoman. 

"Freeze! You're all under arrest!"

"For kidnapping, battery, and drugging!"

The Hawaiian shirt Michael and Trevor had freed themselves and were...HOLDING FIB BADGES??? Franklin hadn't taken hard enough drugs to imagine either of them being on the right side of the law let alone working in the fucking Feds. 

"I thought you said you took their weapons, Marnie!" Jane sneered. 

"I did!"

The Hawaiian shirt Trevor winked at the both of them and put a sleazy grin on his face. "Not all of them sweetheart." He gave a wink to which both Marnie and Jane groaned simultaneously at the implication. 

"God you still manage to be a douche in every reality. Just can't help yourself can you?" Jane groaned. 

The Hawaiian shirt Michael leered at the Trevor and burned Michael. "The fuck happened to your face?"

 Trevor next to the burned Michael stood up and ground his fist into his left palm. "Something is about to happen to your fucking face if you don't keep your fucking mouth shut you fucking pigs."

The Hawaiian shirt Trevor and Michael stared at the standing Trevor for a second as though looking into some kind of twisted haunted mirror one would find in the Hall of Mirrors down at the pier. One that messes with your head and shit. And that's kind of what this was like. Except in real fucking life. 

The burned Michael pulled the standing Trevor down onto the couch with him while mumbling "Trevor come on man." The Trevor continued to leer at the both of them as he went down to a sitting position. 

The Hawaiian shirt Michael looked over to the Michael with a fleece over him and the Michael and Trevor still unconscious on the couch to the Trevor simmering with anger slowly rubbing his hands together and mumbling empty threats to himself and giving murderous looks to Franklin every five seconds.  

"I'm confused." 

Franklin snorted. "You and me both pal. How about you both put your guns away and we sit down and let these nice ladies explain to us what the fuck is going on?"

For a second it looked like the exact opposite was about to happen but the Michael and Trevor with the FIB badges turned to each other and lowered their weapons and badges before slipping them both back into their swim trunks and taking a seat beside each other. 

"Okie Dokie! Looks like we're all set!" Fucking Marnie was acting like this was some summer camp and they were all about to start making paper mache trees out of paper towel rolls. 

Jane motioned towards the three still unconscious. "Shouldn't we wait for them?"

"I don't mind explaining it again."

Franklin crossed his arms and chuckled to himself. Sure as fuck beat the alternative of a gun-slinging stalemate.

Marnie began drawing some kind of air circle with her finger and by the looks of everyone else was causing even more fucking confusion. "Well you see-it's like-our entire circle of realities is one circle and then-erm-this would be much easier if I had a whiteboard-"

"I have one downstairs. Let me go get it." Anything to get Franklin out of this awkward as hell conversation. 

"You have a whiteboard?" The angry Trevor snarked. 

"Yeah. I'm trying to move my way up the food chain dog. Damn." 

As soon as Franklin was in the sacred walls of his bedroom he sat down and pressed his eye sockets into the palms of his hands. He looked over to see the bloodstains dotting his white sheets and groaned when he knew he would have to change them later. He got to his feet and moved to his closet pulling down the whiteboard and fetched a couple of black markers from the bathroom drawer he didn't know still worked. He chewed the inside of his mouth until he tasted blood. Before leaving his closet he promptly grabbed the baseball cap and sunglasses hanging on his closet door handle. Best to make this entire thing less...personal.

He ascended the stairs and announced "I got the whiteboard. I hope it's big enough for you to explain your cosmos wacky shit." 

Jane rolled her eyes and mumbled "For Christ sake" and went over to the sink to grab a glass of water. 

"This will be perfect Franklin. Thank you!" Marnie's sea-blue eyes sparkled like little sapphires as she was handed the markers and whiteboard. She placed the board on the table and Jane walked over with three glasses of tap water she placed on the coffee table before going up to the sick Michael under the fleece blanket and promptly threw water on his face. He sputtered and sat upright. 

"Wake up! I know you're not actually sleeping." 

Franklin raised a concerned eyebrow towards her. "Jesus Jane...no need to act like a bitch." As soon as he said that Franklin was being pulled down to eye level by the angry Trevor. 

"Don't call women bitches. Ain't you got a mother." 

Franklin narrowed his eyes through the sunglasses. "Not anymore and you damn well know it." He pulled himself free and went to stand by the Michael who had just gotten water splashed on his face and the Trevor's inflamed eyes followed him the entire way there. 

Normally Franklin would have never thought about back talking Trevor but then again he had only gotten an hour of sleep and was dealing with whatever the fuck this was. So this Trevor could fuck off. Not even the death stare was freaking Franklin out. When Trevor got all pissy like this he could be a real dick. The fourth interaction they had had during the entire Merryweather heist that went worse than his sex life was a major indicator of that. 

Jane picked up the other two glasses and poured them both on the Michael and Trevor on the couch still knocked out. 

The Michael sat up and sputtered water. "The fuck!"

The Trevor sat up and looked over at the Michael in disbelief. "Aw fuck...okay...this is on you."

"What? How is this on me?"

The Trevor just stared at the other Trevor who was sitting on the ottoman and still giving Franklin the fucking death stare not even noticing the other Trevor on the couch who was practically his doppelganger was staring directly at him. 

The confused Trevor rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hand and mumbled something about doing PCP and glass at the same time while the Michael beside him just stared at the adjacent burned Michael and calm Trevor as the burned Michael was subtly trying to hide the burnt part of his face from the newly awaken Michael's piercing eyes. Franklin felt bad for him in a werid sort of twisted way. 

"What the fuck is going on?" The newly awaken Michael looked over to see Marnie standing there waving towards him. "Marnie?!"

"Well I'm not your Sister Marnie as you are not my Brother Zolag. But we are all connected by the energy of the universe!"

The newly awaken Trevor's eyes widened when he saw Jane glaring at him. "Aw fuck. Mikey, it's that street preacher I was telling you about."

"Fuck you dipshit!" Jane grinded her teeth as she said it. 

The newly awaken Micahel turned to the newly awaken Trevor. "The fuck did you do?"

"Oh he only walked up to me while I was spreading the good news of the Children of the Moutain when this fucker walked up to me covered in blood and only wearing his underwear on only God knows what to tell me to shut the fuck and join a sex cult? Who the fuck does that!!!!"

The Trevor Jane was pissed at just rolled his eyes chuckling. "Oh I'm so sorry but it is true! The only reason you join a cult is to get fucking high and get fucking laid none of which were going on in your boring cult."

"IT. IS. NOT. A CULT. FOR THE LAST TIME!"

"Whatever you say, sweetheart. Say it a little louder so Freddy Krugger over here gets the memo." Trevor gestured his thumb over to the burned Michael on the parallel couch."

The Trevor beside the burned Michael jumped up a lightning speed. "Say it again asshole. I fucking dare you."

The other Trevor jumped up and banged his fists on his chest. "You want to go fucker! Let's go right now!"

Both the burned Michael and the newly awaken Michael simultaneously pulled the Trevors down on the couch and lectured "Trevor come on man. Chill the fuck out." They both gave each other a knowing chuckle and glance of understanding. Then the newly awaken Michael then saw Franklin and stared at him in disbelief and remorse. 

"Kid."

The Trevor beside him turned to see what the Michael beside him was looking at and made a similar face.

Franklin shifted uncomfortably under the intense gaze and looked for something else to focus on. "What?"

In an instance, the newly awaken Michael was walking over to Franklin and standing in front of him with his Trevor not far behind him. Franklin was not in the mood to get screamed at over something another reality of himself was responsible for and was about to try and explain when he was suddenly being pulled into a tight hug which that Trevor soon joined in with. Then Michael flipped off Franklin's hat to ruffle the back of his head and said a shakey "Jesus Christ Franklin." The shakey voice he had when he was holding back tears. Franklin's arms awkwardly stood stiff by his sides not really sure where to put them or what to do. Then alarm bells and the realization on what was going on hit him like a ton of bricks and he was pushing his palms into this Michael's chest to get him away. 

"Get off me! Michael! Man! Boundaries!"

The Michael immediately released him and gave him a soft sad smile as he was clearly trying to compose himself. The Trevor didn't let go until Franklin elbowed him in the stomach. 

"You too Trevor! Shit!"

Franklin reached down for his hat on the floor and put it on with a huff of anger only to be greeted with the two of them staring at him. 

In fact, the whole room was staring at him. 

"What?"

No one said anything. 

"What? Could you two please stop looking at me like that? Fuck!" 

This was eerily similar to another situation where Franklin's Michael got all touchy like this Michael did. Lamar being the genius he was decided to try and pick a fight with two white police officers which ended with both of them in a jail cell side by side with Franklin giving the same Goddamn lecture Lamar was never going to fucking learn anything from. They got one phone call to which Lamar wasted no time calling Trevor to which Franklin almost threw hands with him over. When both Michael and Trevor showed up Franklin wanted to kill himself and was going to take Lamar with him. The four of them went out to eat after that which apparently was what Michael and Trevor were going to do but the entire thing was weird. Both Trevor and Michael were acting as though both Lamar and Franklin had been kidnapped by Saudis and the worse part was that Michael kept framing all the questions as though-

"For the love of-can we please get this show on the road before we all end up dying in a black hole of endless death and destruction!!!" 

The FIB Michael and Trevor glanced at each other and looked towards Jane as though she had lost her mind. She probably had a long time ago. "Wait...what?"

The Michael who had just hugged Franklin cleared his throat and the Trevor beside him shifted uncomfortably. "Sorry. I know...I just..."

The Trevor who just hugged Franklin rolled his eyes and finished for the Michael beside him. "We really missed you kid. Both of us."

"Missed me? What are you fools talking about? And enough of the kid stuff. Please!"

"Sorry. You're just...you're a good kid..."

Franklin sighed and lead both of them over to the couch where he sat between both of them who continued to look at him like he was a ghost of some sort. Like he wasn't really there. It was uncomfortable and the fact that the Trevor on the ottoman was still giving him revenge eyes wasn't helping to alleviate that tension. 

Marnie clasped one of the black markers open and drew a circle in the middle of the white. "Good! Now that we are all somewhat conscious it is time to explain what is going on. So in the universe, there are multiple realities based on various details. Some realities look so similar that you won't be able to tell them apart. Now each reality has an axis of sorts which is in a circular shape like so and all the variations of that reality are within the never-ending loop. Our axis is referred to as Reality Five and its corresponding variations are presented as letters. The reality that we are all sitting in right now is Reality Five C which me, Franklin and Jane are all members of." 

"Wait hold up. If there are infinite realities and only 26 letters in the alphabet then how does that work?" The Trevor in the Hawaiian print asked. 

Jane leered at him. "That's because you are only thinking of the English alphabet you fucking racist!"

The Trevor in the Hawian shirt looked over to the Michael in the Hawian shirt. "How-how is that racist?"

The Hawaiian shirt Michael just shrugged. "I don't know. Don't look at me."

Marnie waved her hand to silence them both. "Anyways, these realities aren't supposed to cross. It puts too much pressure on the energy flow of things.  But someone has been screwing with the energy fields and trying to make their reality look more like this one."

"What Marnie is trying to say is that she was bragging to fellow Marnies from other realities whose realities are going to shit currently because of a series of events that happened here didn't happen there. And by fellow Marnies I mean the Marnies from Reality five A and five B. Because Marnie here had the ingenious idea of giving them codes from the Children of the Moutain wellness and intelligence quizzes which activate an alien device that can swap people in and out of realities because Franklin over here put them all over the Goddamn internet for 5,000 messily dollars."

"Well, Jane if you want to look at it that way then sure. I was looking for a more no-blame approach."

"There is no other way of looking at it, Marnie. We are all going to die horrible painful deaths!"

Marnie sighed. "Jane..."

All the Trevors and Michaels shared looks of concerns before sharing a "What?" Franklin was much too freaked out to really react to this nugget of information.

The burned Michael held up a hand. "What do you mean we are all going to die?"

Marnie waved her hands to get them to all calm down. "Nothing. No one is going to die. At least not if we work together to solve this."

"Ah fuck no. I ain't working with any Judases." The ottoman Trevor snarled.

"Oh really? So you rather have us all die because you don't know how to get over yourself!" The Trevor next to the burned Michael snarled back.

"Get over myself? This fucker burned me alive in gasoline and got my best friend to turn against me!"

Marnie and Jane exchanged a look at that and Franklin could hear a faint "oh fuck" from Jane.

The Trevor who Franklin in another reality had apparently tried to kill picked up on it too. "What?"

Jane ignored him and continued to exchange a horrified look with Marnie. "She-she performed the Htaed enchantment. But...that's not actually supposed to work..."

Marnie glanced back at the Trevor in question and then back to Jane. "This must be why these other Michaels and Trevors came through and why the auras over the mountain last night were so slanted. And why he doesn't have a Michael with him."

"Um...Hello! What the fuck are the looks for?"

Marnie clasped her hands together. "Okay, so the first step is that we need to figure out which realties you come from. We know Franklin is from here and we now know this Trevor is from Reality five A so we'll just call you Trevor A from now on. But now we need to figure out the others starting with you two." She motioned towards the Hawian shirt Trevor and Michael. 

That Michael shrugged his shoulders. "So what do you want to know?"

 "Everything. What was your home life like? What your criminal life was like? What is your relationship like with this Trevor?"

"Criminal life? Well, I don't know about that. I grew up in a trailer park in the midwest with a less than great home life. My mom was a stripper and did some other sex work and my dad was an abusive alcoholic who eventually took off and left us to fend for ourselves. I played football as a quarterback for a while until one night my mom went fucking insane and tried to stab me with a butcher knife in my sleep and kicked me out of the house at 16. I joined the military just to have a place to stay but I had too many damaged bones and fractures from football and my fantastic father so I ended up getting transferred to a FIB special intelligence force. We specialized in foreign survallience specifically spying on our friends to the north which is how I met this psychopath here."

The Michael chuckled at that last part and nudged the Trevor next to him to pick up the story which he did. "What Michael actually meant to say was I saved his ass. I was working with a Merryweather branch over the Canadian border because a fucking bitch told me I wasn't stable enough to fly a plane when I was approached by a recruiter for Merryweather. I was in the lowest tear of the operation the first division provides onsite and property protection with uniformed guards and on the night shift when Mr. American Hero over here wanted to go and try and get files that were blocked by actually entering the premise by himself without any backup. The hounds, of course, pounced on his fatass before he even got all the way down from the fence but I being the good samaritan I was called them off and we realized we could...help each other. He helped get Merryweather Security approved by the FIB and I won't shoot him."

Everything hurt. 

It was cold. 

But the wounds were fresh upon Michael's flesh. The dogs ripping into his flesh and watching his skin be peeled away like toilet paper. Not the scariest thing he had experienced though. Having his face bashed in with a wine bottle was far worse. Broken noses hurt like hell. He couldn't open his eyes. It was too cold for that. He tried to sit up but there were hands pushing him down. The last thing he saw was a bright flashlight and whistling. He felt a pinch in his arm and was felt himself being pulled into the arms of sleep. 

Michael awoke to be in a militaristic tent of sorts and since it was fucking Canada in the middle of the fucking winter he was freezing his fucking balls off. And where the hell was his jacket?

Michael made the grave mistake of trying to sit up and instantly regretted it. The pain of the dog bites shot right up his spine. His wounds had been cleaned and dressed and he was in nothing but his blue boxers. No wonder he was fucking freezing. The tent itself was nothing special. A transportable tent occupied the left back corner of tent followed by a table with variations of pots, pans, and really creepy nesting dolls all laid out in a composed form of chaos. There was a small lantern on the top of the tent leaving a small trail of light to the closed-in zipper where the wind was howling like a dog outside. 

Blizzard.

Fucking perfect. 

His eyes followed the light corners to where it ended to see his bitten blood-covered clothes near the entrance and was surprised to find them messily patched up with green fabric and slopply cleaned the blood off of them. He slowly turned his body in the cot despite his torn skin screaming in pain to stop and slowly stepped onto the cold matted floor of the tent. He felt his heart leap into his throat when a dog like figure slowly stood up and began running towards him from the opposite side of the tent and jumped back up onto the cot as the large snow husky began barking like mad. 

When the dog realized he wasn't a threat though the dog settled down and went back to the cot with mounds of blankets piled over a sleeping figure. No doubt it was the one who had saved his ass.

But why? 

Why would a Merryweather operative do that?

Michael stood again and hobbled over to his clothes and began looking for his cell phone, his badge and came up empty. 

"Leaving so soon?" 

Michael reached for his gun before realizing he didn't have that either and whirled around to see a man in long grey pajamas with socks with reindeers on them. The guy had a bushy mustache, the angriest shade of brown eyes Michael had ever seen, and an angry expression that was making Michael feel like he was shrinking into the chilly mat below him. But this fucker didn't need to know that.

"Uh...look man. I don't know if you know who I am-"

"Michael Townley code name Michael De Santa from the FIB foreign relations office."

"H-how did you-"

The man tossed him his badge which Michael barley caught. 

"You dropped something."

Michael looks down at the badge in his hands and glared back up at the angry-looking man. 

"So did you just save me to be an asshole or what? And where the fuck is my phone?"

The Merryweather guy tilted his head and almost smirked. Almost. "What? You think I'm a fucking idiot or something? Just gonna give you your phone so you can call your FIB buddies in the tress out there?"

Michael shifted uncomfortably. "Well they don't...don't know that I'm here so..."

 The man looked him over once before he began laughing. "So...you're saying you came here by yourself? Without any back-up? Oh my God you are fucking stupid!"

"I was trying to get a promotion okay. Jesus! You don't have to be a dick about it!"

The man before him just sighed and shook his head. "Fucking FIB overachievers. Come on. You just popped on of the stitched on your shoulder. Let's go patch it up."

Michael was not about to spend one more moment with this crazy fucker. "I think I'm gonna be heading back now. Lots of things to do...FIB things..."

The man just laughed at him as he dug through a sleek black first aid kit on the table by the transportable stove for some scissors and stitches and the dog that had spooked Michael following closely behind. "If you want to take your chances with the blizzard, dogs that already got your scent under their noses and Merryweather agents who are gonna be far less understanding than kind old Trevor than be my guest, sugar."

"So your name's Trevor? Slip of the tongue asshole. Now I know your name too. Ha!"

Trevor just turned around with the medical supplies he had salvaged from the bag and began carrying them over to the cot Michael had woken up on. "Wasn't exactly something that was a secret. Lots of people named Trevor just like there are lots of people named Michael. Merryweather isn't like you FIB agents. Don't have sticks up our asses about secret identities and all that shit. Now that we've gotten all friendly how about you come here and let me fix your shoulder."

Michael realized Trevor was right in a way. He really didn't have much of a chance of getting the fuck out of here without his help. Plus he owed him one for saving his ass from becoming fresh dog meat. It was the worst feeling in the world...owing someone for something...knowing they had the power to make or break him...especially when it concerned someone Michael barely knew. Fuck. Michael mentally slapped himself for being so arrogant and stupid and begrudgingly took his ass over to the cot Trevor was standing over stitches in hand and took a seat with his shoulder that was now leaking rose-red blood all down his back in a slow sticky trail. He could practically hear the shit-eating grin Trevor was sending him. 

                                                                                                                                  *

And that was the start of something that was never supposed to have occurred. And that lapse of judgment is what lead up to Michael and Trevor standing in the back broom closet in the FIB building in Los Santos two years later with Trevor undoing the zipper on Michael's FIB jacket. 

"I-I don't know about this T."

"Well, I know that you need to fucking relax and let me take care of you. Give you a good time. You're so uptight Mikey. No wonder you've never gotten laid before."

Michael sighs as Trevor slowly removes the jacket from his shoulders and lays it on a pile of empty boxes scattered like bones of skeletons in a tomb. And goes to work on his buttons on the polo Michael is wearing. He stops after opening the first button to push down the baby blue collar and put his nose up to Michael's neck inhaling deeply. He feels Michael's muscles tense as he does it and says into his skin "New cologne?"

Michael takes a deep breath in and stares intently at a poster on the wall about the seven stages of disinfecting one's hands. "Yeah. Bouche. Supposed to make me irresistible or something lie that."

"Hmm. Smells nice." Michael tensed his shoulders when he felt Trevor's tongue licking his skin. "Tastes nice too."

"Wh-why aren't you taking your clothes off?"

Trevor chuckled and turned his face into Michael's shoulder. "Because I'm blowing you...not the other way around sugar tits."

"Would you please stop calling me that? Jesus. It's embarrassing."

"Ah no."

"Asshole."

Trevor's hands slid up his chest slowly and undid the second button on the polo and at that Michael pulled back away from him. 

Trevor grunted half in humor and half in annoyance. "Really Mikey? Really? Your virgin energy is really bringing the whole vibe down."

Michael snorted as he buttoned back up his shirt and reached for his jacket on the boxes. "Vibe? That's what we're doing now? We're vibing?"

Trevor narrowed his eyes in annoyance as Michael zipped up his jacket. "So what now?"

"Well I was thinking that...we could maybe...I don't know...go back to my place..." Michael said it so sheepishly that Trevor had to stifle a charming laugh.

"So what? You want a massage and some petals on the bed too? Perhaps a nice foot rub as well for  your majesty?"

"Trevor shut the fuck up! Now, are we gonna do this or are you just gonna stand here and be a dick?"

"I don't know Mikey. You're making this pretty difficult for me to decide."

Michael pushed past Trevor making sure to push his hips hard as he moved past and glanced back at him. "Coming?"

Trevor smirked back at him and followed him down to his Aussie downstairs and they didn't speak as they went back to the apartment Michael was renting down near Verona Beach (to help suite Michael's dream of even getting a glance of a Vinewood Star from Richards Majestic Studios even though the movies had been being lackluster lately) mostly because of Michael's nervous virgin energy literally making the entire car ride there feel like cotton balls were being shoved down both their throats. Trevor was not a virgin. At all. Not even close. One would pass out if they saw a list of all the people he had gotten it on with and even worse was he could not name them all. Half the sexually transmitted infections and diseases he had been treated for at some point. It was a miracle from God that he hadn't contracted AIDS yet as a result. 

But Michael...Michael wasn't like that. He was a secretive mysterious being who would often shape like mold into whatever society or a relationship called for him to be. He was so unbelievably fake that it was a bit disturbing that Trevor his closest friend barely knew anything about him up to this point. Always concerned with appearances and his work and whatever the fuck else he was pursuing with the blind ambition that once he received would find the promised happiness was nothing more than smoke and mirrors and would pull out like the tide into his alcoholism and depression and push everyone away as a result. And most people would let him. 

But not Trevor. Trevor wasn't like most people. He was more violent than the "average person" if one could even call it that. Always talking out of his ass. He had tried the whole makeup and role-play of pretending that all ended in relationships built on sand and lies and would end badly. He was described as taking things way too far which Merryweather became like a lightning rod for him to take his anger and rage and hurt out on. Trevor wasn't interested in the fake persona Michael put on or how well he could blend into a surrounding or how many promotions he had gotten or how many terrorists he had put behind bars or when he was an outgoing and social persona of charm and flattery. He was interested in the Michael that pulled away, the part of Michael that was ugly and dark and lonely...so so lonely...like walking through the woods at night in the winter without a map and no way out. People didn't want to see that Michael because one could get lost in there. A walking closeted jock with daddy issues. Trevor understood. Sort of.

This wasn't just about getting into Michael's pants although Michael's ass could literally make even the stupidest FIB getup look like...something Trevor had to look away from because his body would react accordingly. He wanted to touch Michael. The real Michael. The Michael no one else got to see. He didn't want to fuck this up. With anyone else, Trevor would have already punched in the face for jerking around and being a fucking tease but Michael wasn't just anyone. He was someone Trevor wanted to wake up next to. 

They finally reached the apartment and walked up the stairs in silence. Trevor could feel the nervous energy raining down from Michael as he followed him up the stairs and to the door of his apartment. When Michael reached into his pocket and revealed by the key chain to his lock that he was shaking. Nerves? Seriously Michael had to go and make everything fucking dramatic as per fucking usual. Trevor restrained the impulse to roll his eyes at this though. Fucking drama queen. 

Michael's apartment was one of the blandest apartments Trevor had ever seen. No pictures, plants, decorations...just boxes...boxes everywhere. And a few kitchen supplies. Trevor smirked and mumbled "fatass" under his breath fondly. The overall apartment was pretty conservative. One bedroom, one bathroom, a small kitchen beside a small living area with tv with a disgrace to all other shades of green lawn chair seated messily in front of it. A window was on the side wall beside the tv and stained blinds allowed sunlight to peak through into the bland white walls at least giving something in there some fucking color. No wonder Michael is depressed all the fucking time. No light or color in his life. Just white walls and navy blue t-shirts of FIB false granger. 

Fucking ridiculous. 

Michael's bedroom was just like the rest of the place. Full of boxes and his bed didn't even have proper sheeting on it. All it had was the quilt on top of a poorly covered bare matress. There was a foldable table with a digital clock on top of it and some kind of portable grey lamp. The entire apartment but especially the bedroom was ice cold. Trevor was secretly worried some carzy nightmare nurse from a psych ward was about to come down the hallway and put a straight jacket on his chest and some anti-psychotics in a needle in his neck. The entire apartment was bringing up bad memories of the psych hospital Trevor had to stay in for half his teen years. The closet had nothing but polos and tan tacky khaki pants. Jesus fucking Christ Trevor needed to get this man a new fashion line. If Michael wasn't drinking he was working. Workaholic in the day, alcoholic in the night. What a sad and lonely life not that the before part of Michael's life sounded like much fun either. His home life said through self-deprecating jokes was so so lonely...so lonely...so damn lonely...so violent...so...like Trevor's life...

As Michael took off his jacket and threw it on the pile of old clothes near the closet Trevor grinned towards him and took off his own jacket and shirt quickly not giving Michael any chance to change his mind. He then worked down on the shoes and took off his belt and pulled down his pants and underwear until he was completely butt naked. Except for his socks. Michael turned around and his icy blue eyes lite up with a metaphysical form of horrified surprise. Trevor almost doubled over laughing at his facial expression. He made a big show of giving a twirl in all of his God-given naked glory and bent over to show off the progress his quads had been making on his arse cheeks before seeing Michael looking just as confused as ever...as though he had been given a math problem that was beyond his understanding rather than about to have what was hopefully the best sex of his life if Trevor had anything to say about it. 

Michael slowly removed his own polo and then the white wife beater he used to cover up his tits (which Trevor dispised for that exact reason) exposing his perky chest and soft but strong underneath  stomach. He was strangely attractive in a way other people just didn't seem to understand because they wanted the Michael everyone got to see...the nice parts but Trevor was able to appreciate all the parts that make Michael. 

                                                                                                                                 *

"I am telling you if you go and take a piss during this part you're dead to me!" 

Trevor sighed and wiggled out of Michael's iron grasp and stood up with his hands on his hips. "Welp guess I'm dead now. All because I have a naturally occurring body function because your pretentious movie-loving ass can talk and explain every movie scene as it's happening but can't summarize the all of five minutes it takes me to use the bathroom?"

Michael flashed his pearly whites at Trevor and chuckled. "Alright. Suit yourself T. But the entire thing it gonna be lost on you man."

Trevor waved him off as he walked to the bathroom which thank fuck had some more decorations than that soul-sucking psych ward replica apartment Michael was living in their time in Los Santos. Vice City seemed to do them both better as the weather was nicer, less traffic and Michael had finally learned to lighten the fuck up. Even let Trevor stay with him. Michael was growing attached to Trevor and Trevor was eating it all up. Every little compliment or noise or gesture of affection he could squeeze from Michael was worth it. Like squeezing a never-ending orange in a juice grinder. 

Trevor comfortably slipped back into the position he was before at Michael's side after he took a whizz by resting his head comfortably against Michael's chest and having Michael wrap his meaty arms around his limber body. Comfortable...safe...peaceful...

"We started a friendship and worked together for a long time. Trevor eventually got his US citizenship and came on board with the FIB. We came across some files and well let's just say...the FIB aren't exactly the friendly government organization they made out to be."

Trevor A snorted. "No shit sherlock."

"So we decided to release the files to the public and made sure that they stayed there."

"We didn't want the IAA taking it down from the interwebs."

"I had some connections with a guy down in Vice City who got us a one way trip to Argentina where we could hide out from the FIB, IAA, and Merryweather."

"Of course staying put was never really something we were good at so we traveled around and were at a beach resort in Australia when we both woke up here."

"So you're telling me you are both police officers?" Trevor A narrowed his eyes in distrust as he said it so full of malice.

The FIB Michael shrugged. "I guess you could look at it that way. Why? What are you guys?"

The Trevor beside the burned Michael started fake coughing loudly until the burned Michael slapped him. Both the Michael and Trevor beside Franklin were trying their best to keep their laughter in and failing miserably.

"Well good that clears that up. You both are from Reality F."

Trevor F seemed offended by that. "Wait why are we F?"

"Because any fool who joins the FIB or Merryweather willingly is a fucking failure who needs to take a good look over their life decisions." Trevor A laughed as he said it. 

Michael F tutted his tongue. "Yeah, thanks for sharing pal."

"But I don't understand. What about Amanda, Jimmy, and Tracey? Did you just leave them when you went on this little hero's journey?" The Michael next to Franklin spoke up. 

"Who?" 

"Your wife and kids?"

Michael F looked at him weirdly and then looked over at an equally confused Trevor F.

"I...never had children or got married. Marriage is the way conservatives keep the government controlling our personal lives."

"What?"

"Okay, okay enough with the politics. We obviously need some kind of groundwork for this. Franklin, you're up. How did you meet Michael and Trevor? What's the story there?" Jane motioned towards Franklin and he suddenly felt a million curious eyes on him and wanted to disappear into the couch cushions. 

"Well, I was um...doing repos with my friend Lamar for this dude. I used to be a gangster but I fucked that up and fucked up my relationship with this girl I was with so that life wasn't for me."

The Michael beside him began gently rubbing his shoulder until Franklin slapped his hand away. Damn. He didn't know how much longer he could put up with this shit. 

"Anyways I get sent to this guy's mansion over in Rockford Hills. Son's behind on his payments. Turns out his dad is Michael De Santa puts a gun up to my head, forces me through the window of my job, gets me fired-"

"He came to me for advice afterward, we start a partnership, I got him connections to get him this nice house-"

Franklin glared at the Michael beside him who was smiling ear to ear at him. "This is my story fool. Not yours. Anyways his son tried to sell his yacht I helped him save his kid we go out for drinks afterward then his wife was banging this tennis coach who we chased down and pulled down his house. But it wasn't his house it was some gangster named Martain Madrazo's side chick's house so then we had to rob a jewelry store to pay Madrazo back-"

"But Michael in all of his infinite wisdom used his tired ass movie quotes and I was able to track his ass down-"

"Because Michael was in hiding with the FIB and got our old pal Brad killed and continued to lie about and then Franklin and I got pulled into his FIB shit but Franklin was liar too and they ended up teaming up on me and burning me alive in the middle of the fucking desert!" Trevor A snarled towards the Michael beside Franklin while the Trevor and Michael beside Franklin just looked confused. 

Franklin wasn't.

Because well-

"That didn't happen here homie. Chill. So anyways we robbed the Union Depository and ended up fighting against all these Merryweather goons kicking their asses out of San Andreas, Michael took out my old gangster boss who was trying to get my best friend killed, I took out these Chinese gangster dudes that Trevor had pissed off-"

"For good reason. Stole business from me-"

"Anyways Trevor took out Steve Haines and we pushed Devin Weston into the bay and now I live here and make sure the two old bastards don't kill each other."

The Michael and Trevor beside him exchanged a sad look before looking bad at Franklin with that same sad look. This thing was getting old real fast.

"For the love of fucking God what!" 

Michael nervously ticked his neck and looked at Trevor for guidance who just shrugged sadly.

What the fuck was going on?

"Well, all that stuff happened in our reality too...except for the last part..."

"This could be it! Our showdown with a private army and you're bringing a riffle?" Trevor raised his gun at the last part and Michael did the same. 

"Yeah, I'm bringing a rifle. It's a good gun it'll get the job done!"

Of course the minute he got his family back, his relationship with Amanda back together, Jimmy was working on his resume finally, Tracey was going to college, he was finally going to get the FIB off his back once and for all, he had a job he loved and had almost atoned for all his life's sins Trevor was going to kill him. The irony was not lost but if Trevor thought he was going to put on between Michael's eyes without a fight he was sadly mistaken. 

Trevor narrowed his eyes and stepped closer. "That gun? Makes me think this is a setup!"

Michael rolled his eyes and pointed the gun to Trevor's head. He didn't have it in him to pull the trigger but Trevor didn't need to know that. "It is a setup idiot! We're setting up Merryweather and the FIB. Making em think the metal is here."

"I meant a setup for ME! It's a weird gun and it's making me nervous. Put it down!" 

Yeah right. So Trevor could shoot him? Fat fucking chance. 

"It's a good gun and you asking me to put it down in making me nervous." 

Trevor pushed back a bit and aimed the gun at Michael's chest. "Hey. I ain't the guy with a past history of giving up his friends."

And the knife was pushed in and twisted. 

And then everything became clear. 

The weird location. The last-minute call from Lester. Trevor being between a rock and a hard place because he went and fucked over Merryweather so many times they were practically his whipped bitch. Franklin not being here yet. Trevor talking about getting Michael back and "keeping his eye on him."

This was a setup. 

For Michael.

"You let the Chinese take me, didn't you! You might be about to pull that with Merryweather for all I know!"

Trevor narrowed his eyes. Murderous. Bloodthirsty. Michael took a half step back. "I was in an emotional state. I can't be blamed for my actions in Ludendorff!" 

Fair enough. 

"Oh really? Well, can I blame you for every single fucking day I spent getting the shit kicked out of me in that meat plant! Can I blame you for every single fucking day after that that you didn't even try to come and get me! You claim to be my friend but your past actions for the single fucking moment I met you have proved otherwise! You've always been like this! When I got married you acted like a fucking asshole and when I talked to you about leaving crime behind you acted like I was about to saw your fucking arm off! You ignorant selfish fuck! Fuck no! I ain't putting my gun away!"

Trevor didn't say anything back. He just stared at him like Michael had slapped him across the face. He looked...genuinely hurt. 

Okay. Maybe he took it too far. 

Out of the corner of his eye Michael saw Franklin making his way over to the stairwell and Michael sighed in relief. Without taking his eyes of the murderous bomb of energy about to go off in front of him he called out "Hey kid! We need you over here! Frank! Come on get over here! You need to get here Franklin!"

Michael felt scared. Not of Merryweather or Trevor. But of the fact that if this was a setup he didn't know if he would have it in him to take ou Franklin and Trevor. 

Franklin looked at them and shook his head angrily. "Hey! The fuck am I doing risking my ass trin to save both of y'all if you're just gonna kill each other!"

Oh fuck. It was a setup. Well, Michael couldn't honestly tell himself he didn't deserve it.

"You ain't saving me! You're saving him!"

"No you're saving this fat fuck!" 

Franklin marched up the stairs and angrily walked towards them his annoyed energy almost palatable to Michael. "Hey man y'all got to keep you're fucking heads straight and end this shit. If not man I'll put bullets in both you motherfuckers!" 

To know he wasn't kidding didn't help the situation any more than it already had. Franklin's phone rang and Lamar was on the other end telling them Merryweather had arrived. Michael heard the sticky bombs left for them going off in the background. 

"Y'all hear that? Now we doin' this shit man it's either now or never."

Michael and Trevor continued to aim at each other. Disappointment crossed Franklin's face and he slowly moved his hands to calm them both down. 

"Come on Trevor," Michael said gently. 

Trevor looked between Franklin and Michael and saw the fear in their eyes. Every single fucking day since Michael's "death" and before finding out he was still alive Trevor had tried to find replacements to fill the hole Michael's friendship had once filled. But it didn't work. When he found out Michael was alive he couldn't fucking believe Michael had done this to him. He adored Michael because everyone always backed away from Trevor in fear. Even when he made a friend they would leave because he would do or say something that would freak them out. But not Michael. Michael was the one who stayed. Michael was the one who listened. Michael was the one who cared. But he was wrong about him too. 

Trevor didn't want to see Michael die. He didn't want to kill Michael. At least not by himself. He couldn't do it. He just couldn't. He was fucking terrified of having to point a gun in Michael's direction again. After Lunendorf. When the Chinese had him...

He cared and he loved Michael. He still fucking did. His friendship with Michael was the strongest relationship he had ever had and never had again. He fucking hated him for it too. He wanted to have Michael back so bad. So bad. And nothing he did ever seemed to make him want to stay. 

"And you see that's why Michael is a fucking asshole! Whatever you do do not under any circumstances believe a single word that comes out of that lying asshole's mouth! No matter what I do it seems like he doesn't want to be around me. He hates me. He probably always has! I just don't understand. How could he do this to me!"

Mrs. Madrazo sat quietly on the bench listening to Trevor rant and rave about everything for the past thirty minutes. 

"I would try cleaning. Cleaning always helps me when I'm stressed and don't know what to do."

Cleaning.

But she had-

Trevor turned away and looked off into the distance where the sun was almost fully risen over the golden arches of the dunes in Sandy Shores before asking a question he feared the answer to.

"Are you...are you scared of me?" 

Patricia sighed softly and considered the question for a moment before shrugging. "When I was seven, I watched my father beat my pregnant sister to death with a baseball bat. I have seen teenage boys burned alive for criticizing the government. I have seen countless young men and women killed by cops and by rival gangs to the Vagos...inocent lives cut short. My own husband has threatened my life countless times. There are few things that scare me."

"That wasn't really an answer."

"At first I was. To be fair you did break into my house, duck tape my arms, legs and mouth and threw my in the trunk of my husband's car but I am the wife of a poweful crime boss and the daughter of misfortune within the criminal empire so it was hardly the first time this has happened. But you must be the nicest one thus far. You haven't tried to take advantage of me and you haven't locked me in your home. If I tried to leave I doubt you would try and stop me."

"And how do you know that?"

"I just do. My husband...he is cruel...but he is still my husband. He was hurt and in turn he hurts me. He does bad things but he is not evil. I know this because I look for the good in others. There is good in him and there is good in you too. At first, I was scared but then I realized the pain you have inside you. The fear of loneliness. I feel that same pain in Michael as well."

Trevor snorted. "Yeah? Michael doesn't have feelings. Whatever he told you was just emotional manipulative tactics to try and turn you against me."

"When I lost my son...it was one of the most painful experiences I ever went through. It was a miscarriage...he hadn't even been born yet...I just..."

Trevor wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close just like he saw the movies. Fuck. He was really had been spending too much time with Michael. 

"It was hard. I couldn't eat. I couldn't clean or sleep or talk. All I could do was lay in bed and stare at the ceiling. It felt like someone had taken a piece of me to the grave. I blamed myself. Martain blamed me."

Trevor balled his fist up that wasn't holding Patricia. Fucking Madrazo. 

"I pushed everyone away. I let my hurt hurt others."

"You can't blame yourself."

"I did though. I had a great pain inside me and I can see you have a great pain inside you too."

Trevor felt as though his tongue was stuck to the back of his throat. He didn't know what to say. But he knew what this was. 

"But how do you know I'm good?"

"Because I do."

"So why did you clean...the trailer I mean. You said when you are stressed you clean."

"I cleaned because you seemed to be in a great deal of pain. When my son died I couldn't clean. Hygiene and cleanliness became second nature to me. I cleaned your home because I wanted to. I care about you and I care about what happens to you. But you have to trust me that I do care. Don't push others away. You have to let go. You have to trust them."

"But how can I trust those who have hurt me?"

"When the time comes you will make the right choice."

And he did when he let Patricia go. And she didn't leave him. She continued to call and check in on him. 

Just like before Trevor was pushing Michael too hard and in turn, pushing Michael further and further away. It wasn't for lack of trying. It was for trying too hard. The person he knew in North Yankton, the scared kid he had saved from getting beaten to death, the person he had laughed with and cried on his shoulder, the person who had betrayed him worse than anyone ever had was standing before him. And he was a different person from then. 

Michael was working on himself and he wanted to get better. And if Trevor continued to act like this he was going to end up pushing him away again.

And Franklin too. Franklin was backing away from him and moving towards Michael's side. 

He was the monster. He was the psycho.

It took Trevor a second to realize Michael was shaking and he looked into those fucking ice blue eyes and saw fear and realized Michael was just as scared to hurt him as he was to hurt Michael. Fuck Michael. Fuck Franklin. Fuck himself.

"FUCK IT! ARUGH!!!!!"

He sighed in relief when a bullet didn't go through his skull. The tension was gone. He turned back to Franklin and Michael. "Where do you want me?"

Franklin wiped his mouth and pointed to the space above the consul system. "Alright, man. You go over there."

"And where do you want me?"

"You hold your position right here."

"Okay."

"I'm gonna go over there." 

They got into their positions just as the Merryweather men entered the building. 

Michael was about to shoot one of the guys when Franklin hissed at him from the other side of the catwalk. "Chill dog. You got to wait."

And it started. Bullets flying. People screaming. Franklin had improved so much in his gunmanship and sneaking skills. It felt like only yesterday Michael was steadying his hand at the gunshop. Lamar needed help so Franklin ran out there to assist him while Trevor and Michael covered him from their respective places. Michael got a little wary when he watched Franklin go outside but they had their coms on so he made sure to keep Franklin talking. Trevor of course used the comms to act like an ass by insulting everyone which he was still doing. 

Talking. He was always fucking talking. 

Then Trevor went silent. Michael waited for some whitty fucking speech to come through the comms. Also, he hadn't heard gunshots or seen Trevor pop up from over there and Michael started to get worried. One part that Trevor would flip his shit if Michael didn't help him out and other part because he cared.

"T. T. Come in."

Silence. Other than Franklin and Lamar yelling at each other. The FIB had arrived and were getting closer to where he was. Michael started popping em but he didn't think he could hold them off for long.

"Frank. I think T's in trouble. There's an FIB team where I last saw him and he ain't responding."

He heard Franklin grunt on the other end. "I got to stay out here with Lamar. Can you go get him?" 

A bullet flew ten feet from Michael's forehead. He looked out at all the FIB agents surrounding the stairwell. "Shit. Fine. I'll try and find him."

He shot the guy who tried to clip him before flipping down behind the metal boxes to avoid gunfire. Luckily the FIB and Merryweather were starting to fight each other. Again. 

Second firefight between political shit in less than a week. Fantastic. 

He took out three near him and screamed "Can you stop being an asshole please!"

Damn it, Trevor. Fucking dipshit. 

"It's getting heavy out here dudes."

Still nothing. If Trevor was fucking around-

"Talk to me, T!"

Michael shot two more before running to get behind the barriers in front of the catwalk by the panel. He sighed in relief when he saw Trevor breathing heavily in the corner and holding his chest.

"There you are you dick! What was the problem?" 

Trevor looked up at him in disbelief and confusion. "I was a little winded alright? Took a TO." He smirked and gave Michael a playful slap on the bottom of his leg. "Nice to see you so worked up."

Michael shot a fucker trying who had managed to get up onto the catwalk before smirking back. "Next time I'll leave you to it."

"Oh! Look out more agents!"

They got them all together before Franklin was calling them outside. Fucking choppers. Franklin was running up to him with the RPG and gave him a hand while Trevor went with Lamar.  Michael grabbed the back of Franklin's collar and pulled him to where they would all regroup. He looked over and saw Trevor coming towards them. Lamar was there as well. His arm was still tingling from firing and Franklin still hadn't let go of his arm. Probably just shaken up. 

But then more and more weight was being put on that arm. Michael looked over to see Franklin struggling to stand up. He then realized the shaking was coming from Franklin and not him. 

"Kid?"

Michael stabled Franklin by putting his hand on his back and slowly lowering him to the ground leaning his head softly against the pillar. Franklin was pressing a hand against his stomach which Michael coaxed him to move to see the bullet wound in his side near his ribs. Franklin didn't let go of Michael's arm.

"No no no no no no no. Franklin. Stay with me kid."

Trevor and Lamar approached. "Guys what are you...oh fuck." They both were down on their knees in an instant. Trevor was on his right side while Lamar crouched down next to Trevor. Nobody said anything and the only thing that could be heard was the sound of Franklin's heavy breathes fighting as his lungs slowly filled with oxygen. Michael felt the hand his other arm that wasn't supporting Franklin squeezing tighter.

"Michael...it hurts man...it hurts so bad..."

"I know Franklin...I know...it will be okay..."

Lamar was barely keeping it together. Michael and Lamar hadn't really been introduced before this but he can't really blame him. He knew Franklin the longest. 

Franklin eventually takes his last breath and Michael moves to shut his dead eyes laying him to rest at last. He feels a growing panic inside him. It's not so much sadness or anger. Not yet at least. It's just...too much for him to handle. 

"Michael."

He was just a kid. He could have made something of himself. Michael was never gonna get to see him go to college, get married, own his first business.

"Michael."

How could this had happened? How scared poor Franklin must have been. His last words. He was in pain. So much pain. When did this happen? He was right there with Michael. Michael should've...he could've...

"Michael." 

He was being gently tugged but he held to the body wrapping his arms around the corpse and bring it closer like his life depended on it. 

"For fuck's sake, Michael let go. Steve Haines, Dave Norton, Wei Chang, and Devin Weston are still out there as well as the dude who set up Lamar. More Merryweather and FIB agents are gonna be here soon as well as NOOSE, IAA, the fuzz, and who the fuck else knows! We got to go! Now!" Trevor unwrapped Michael's hands and scooped up Franklin's corpse. Numbly Michael followed him back to their cars parked on the side of the building in the alleyway near the train tracks no one would bother to look behind. Lamar was still following them silent tears cascading down the side of his face for his fallen brother. 

Michael almost lost it upon glancing at Franklin's motorcycle he loved so much. He used to clean that thing all the time. Michael could count more than he had fingers the number of times he had stopped by Franklin's house to discuss their next move or to go get drinks that Franklin would be standing in the driveway, polish, and rag in hand and scrubbing down the sleek envy green sides of the bike with all the care and tenderness one would with a fine piece of china. 

Maybe when this shitshow was over Franklin would have bought a bike shop or gone to those car meets he was always talking about. The fancy ones only the best of the best were allowed into. But now he won't be able to. 

No. Trevor was right. He couldn't think about this now. He had to keep it together. He had to get Lester on the line...he had to...

Everything was a blur after that. Michael, Lamar, and Trevor went one by one to track down Steve Haines, the Triads, Devin Weston, and Stretch. Dave Norton would be kept alive and would work with Michael to help all this go away for the both of them if he knew what was good for him. They went together and hesitantly split up. No one else would be dying. Not tonight. Michael kept the corpse of Franklin wrapped delicately in a sheet in the back seat of Lamar's car. Michael was honestly surprised at how well Trevor was keeping it together. After Lamar helped Trevor take out the Triads he would be heading back to Franklin's old neighborhood to inform his family and friends of his passing. Michael asked him if he wanted him to go with him when he told Denise first since he was already gonna be there taking an ax to Stretch's head for trying to blow Franklin's brains out and all the other fucking shit the ballas had pulled on Franklin but Lamar said it was best he did it because of pigment and status and all. Michael didn't push it any further than that. 

While that was going on Trevor tracked down Steve Haines and shot him and went to go track down Devin Weston to take him to the agreed-upon meet up point for a much-needed discussion about trying to kill Michael's family and screwing over Franklin and Trevor and Michael and Lamar and Solomon and his movie studio and pretty much everyone in the entire San Andreas region at this point and all his stocks in Merryweather who had helped get Franklin killed. 

Two hours later Michael was covered in blood up to his elbows and Devin's face resembled an over chewed piece of gum stuck to the pavement one would get caught on their shoe. He was beaten to death in the trunk of his own car and Michael had done it. 

Scariest part was the silence.

No threats.

No yelling.

No cheesy movie lines.

Nothing but the sound of fists and Weston's muffled sounds.

 Trevor knew it was best to give Michael space when he got like this back in the midwest but he hadn't realized it was gonna get this fucking violent. Michael looked like a robot. There wasn't any passion in his eyes. He looked like a fucking killer robot as he did it. Trevor had wanted to get some in but Michael had already done enough for the both of them. Trevor's heart jumped in his chest when Michael slammed the car trunk down on the now mangled remains of the former richest man in Los Santos and started chuckling to himself and ran his bloodied fingers up his face as he took in a loud shaking breath. Trevor slowly approached him but Michael moved away from him before clapped his hands together and sending a manic blood-covered smile in  Trevor's direction.  Like out of one of those $10 mil blockbuster trash horror flicks were "sane and normal" people had a socially acceptable excuse to watch oversexualized grutridious violence play out on a shitty movie screen because they couldn't bite the bullet in real life and make it happen themselves. 

"What do you say? Shall we give this prick the old water burial?"

"Yeah, Mikey. Okay. Let's do it."

They both used their combined weights to push the now bloodied and soiled car into the jagged rock bed bellow and watched in silence as it was set ablaze. They didn't say anything for a solid twenty minutes. Perhaps they were in the denial part of grief. Michael rubbed his hand over his eyes and drew in a shaking breath. Trevor thought he was crying at first until he took his hand away and looked down in mute shock at the blood-splattered across his arms and upper torso. Trevor could practically hear Michael's thoughts of "Oh shit. I shouldn't have done that." Trevor was a bit anger at Michael for thinking that way. Devin Weston was a pile of human garbage who deserved so much worse for every asshole and dick move he pulled the worst offense yet being getting Franklin killed by low paid abusive g-men assholes.

Despite their better judgment, the two parted ways with Michael getting in his car to head back to his upscale Rockford Hills house while Trevor walked back to his truck parked insultingly outside of the prick himself's house. The anger rose like lava seeping through the cracks of a volcano as Trevor approached the asshole's black gates before releasing it by slamming his head against the fence. 

Hard. 

Once. 

Twice.

Seven times?

Enough so he was seeing double before throwing his hands up and screaming nonsensical curse words to the cruel God who lay just beyond the stars that were starting to dot the violet sky as night fell over the coast of Los Santos. 

Michael was alone scrubbing the blood off of his jacket and jeans in the sink of his bathroom before hitting the shower himself. He stood there allowing the cold water to wash off the blood and sweat sticking to his skin like tape naturally and watched the blood go down the drain in a sickly beautiful spiral. 

It was weird. Not being alone outside drinking for once. He had a friend for the first time in nine years. 

It was a nice feeling the sound of cars rushing by on the highway in the background, frogs croaking in the bushes, Amanda and Tracey arguing about boyfriends for the seventh time and Jimmy off somewhere playing that horrendous game, the stars softly shining through the smothering smog of the city and light teeming in the soft ripples of the over-chlorinated pool water. Everything so neatly in place for a perfect night. 

Michael turned towards Franklin and smirked mischievously. "I bet you do alright."

Franklin raised an eyebrow. "Whatcha mean?"

"With the chick a dees! Don't settle down too early man."

Franklin leaned back on his chair and sighed. "I don't know. Family, stability...might do me some good man."

"Yeah as long as she's the right girl. Sometimes...when you're young...you value the wrong things." Michael knew first hand what leading with your penis, emotions, and heart and not adding logic into the equation did and it didn't turn out to add up to something that was all that great. 

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I met Amanda when she was in a stri-seedy bar. She was smoking hot. And she liked me. Can't say I blamed her. I was a foxo macho rocko stud back in the day and I had money in my pocket." He smiled remembering the first time Amanda allowed him to take her home after beating up a groppy pervert. He sighed. "But I shoulda seen...we both shoulda."

Franklin leaned in closer with interest. "What's that?"

"That-that the physical attraction the chemistry stuff...that's not a stable enough foundation to build a marriage on." 

"Ey man...I don't know all the details but I know some of em and it seems like your circumstances are pretty special you know? Maybe there is more to your thing than you think." Franklin gave him a soft smile and gave him a pat on the shoulder.

"Yeah maybe once." Michael sighed. "Ah, that's not fair. I made this arrangement when I retired."

And that was when the floodgates opened and all the guilt and sadness and anger came pouring out in one ugly sob. 

Soon his family was back. Everything was safe. His slate was wiped clean and he was getting a second chance at life for the second time. Not many unfortunate souls could say that. 

Michael took in a deep breath before he could say what he was about to say. "Franklin Clinton is dead."

There. He said it. It was out there. 

Tracey looked really confused for a few seconds and Jimmy started crying instantly. Amanda just stared at Michael with an unreadable expression. 

"H-how-did-how-did it- what- how?" Michael could hardly understand Jimmy over his slurps and sobs. 

Michael put his hand in his hip and sighed deeply attempting to piece together the words in his head like letter magnets on a fridge that won't make him sound directly responsible but in reality, there wasn't a way to put it as such. He sighed again. He really didn't know how to do this. 

"Look. I can't fully explain it because well...something happened alright...and if you knew and if someone ever knew about you guys...or the police or NOOSE or the FIB or the Vagos or the Bikers or the Triads or the IAA or some other rich asshole ever thought you guys had anything to do with it...I couldn't...I just..."

"So you got him killed? You selfish fucking asshole!"

"IT WASN'T LIKE THAT I-sorry I shouldn't have yelled...I'm gonna...go outside...I'll be back..."

And like that he was by his pool deck away from it all before drifting into the cruel arms of sleep to be tortured by nightmarish apparitions of his past and screaming Franklin and his final breaths before awaking to be wrapped in a pink blanket and an ugly blue striped pillow under his head. After a few moments of trying to wake up his brain, Amanda was over by his side with a cup of coffee and a soft sympathetic smile on her face. 

"I felt you could use some. I would have carried you up to the bedroom but you're a bit too heavy for me to carry."

Michael laughed softly at the mental image of Amanda attempting to carry him up the stairs to their room. She put her hand on his cheek and stroked small circles just beneath his eye. He leaned into her soft touch before he was being pulled to his feet by her and lead upstairs. She then just held him and brushed her fingers softly through his hair. Michael turned his face into her shoulder and felt sad again. But not the bad kind but the good kind. Well as good as one could get with-

"I don't get it. Why are you being nice to me?"

"Because we are working on our marriage, trying to be nicer to each other, you just lost someone close to you which you are taking the blame for and I'm not an asshole?"

"Right. Sorry. I didn't mean to be-what I meant was-I just-"

"I believe the words you are looking for is thank you Amanda for comforting me in a difficult time in my life after I didn't do the same for you?"

"What? Difficult time? No. Everything is completely fine."

"No everything is not completely fine. It hasn't been for our entire marriage and probably our entire lives and that's okay. We can work on this together but we have to be honest with each other."

He pulled himself closer and they intertwined their legs together. He sighed. He hadn't realized how lonely he had been once the kids and Amanda were gone. How much he had missed this. But if he kept lying and not being honest including with himself he would end up pushing them away again. 

"I...I miss Franklin. He was just a kid and I let him die. I didn't...I didn't mean to..."

"What happened?"

And so he told her. Everything. About the FIB, Trevor, North Yankton, Franklin, the Union Dipasatory, Lester, Lamar, Merryweather, Martain Madrazo, his therapist and Dave's not so friendly meeting, his guilt and remorse for pretty much everything and so on in that special Michael sort of way. He didn't realize he had been crying as he said it until he pulled away and saw Amanda's white shirt had two wet dots on the shoulder side. She rubbed both his shoulders softly and didn't say anything. They both didn't say anything. 

The door was opened slightly after Michael had knocked on it and the eye of Franklin's aunt was there staring at him before undoing the lock and opening the door fully. 

Michael reached out his hand to shake hers. "Hi. I'm Michael De Santa. One of Franklin's friends. You must Denise his aunt." She took it.

"Yes. I know who you are. Come in. I'll make us some coffee."

Once they got settled down Denise looked over at him and smiled. "Franklin spoke a lot about you. He was always such a shy boy. So closed off and distant from others. Had trouble making connections with other people. I tried my best but...well that's not necessarily true. I should have treated him better. I acted like a real asshole towards him. I'm sure he hated me."

Michael shook his head. "I don't think so. I fucked up way worse than you probably ever did as a father and my family still gives a shit about me for some reason. Franklin cared about you. We talked about you and he didn't hate you."

Denise's brown eyes went down to the steam slowly rising from her cup. "Oh good. That's a relief."

Michael cleared his throat. "I was wondering if I could speak with you about your plans for Franklin's funeral. My wife and I have decided we wanted to give him a proper burial and funeral and I'll cover the whole thing of course but I wanted to be respectful to his folks and make sure his funeral was what you guys and what Franklin would have wanted. He was your nephew and you knew him the longest."

Denise let out a shaking breath and shook her head as though forcing the moisture filling her eyes to the back of her head. "Well we have his body down at the morgue and...well...I just...I didn't know what to do with...it's just been hard..."

The guilt stuck to the back of Michael's throat and he cupped Denise's wrinkled hands in his own. "I know. But you don't have to do this alone. I'm here to help. If you or Lamar or Tanisha or Tonya or JB or any of Franklin's other friends need anything at all just tell them to come to me. Food, money, help around the house, anything just ask. I'll leave my phone number with you so we can stay in touch.  It's the least I can do."

"What do you mean the least you could do?"

"I understand I am probably the last person you want to see right now and you probably hate me-"

"What?" Denise looked up at Michael in shock as though he had just said the moon landing was a hoax. "No. No baby I don't hate you. The only thing I got out of Franklin was about you and your nut case buddy. Michael this and Michael that. He would get little stars in his eyes whenever he talked about you two. That boy adored you both. He thought the world of you especially. So no I don't  hate you."

Michael sighed remembering the shaking last words and breaths of his...suragate son. "He died so young though and I could have-"

"Honey listen to me now and listen to me well. Franklin may have died young but he didn't die alone. Lamar told me what happened and how you all were there for him. He could have died like his mother who died all alone and in pain but he didn't. He passed surrounded by people who loved and cared for and about him. Look around. Do you see Franklin's dead beat of a father coming here to apologize to me and ask how Franklin's family and friends are doing? Are the g-mem who actually got him killed around helping me with funeral plans and comforting me? No! But you're here. You were always there when Franklin needed you and even if you weren't that boy loved you anyways and I know you loved him too. So enough of that coulda shoulda nonsense. I'll throw your ass to the curb if you don't stop it. Before you got here I had no idea what the fuck I was doing but now I feel much better. You're here and you were there. That's what matters now."

They decided to hold the funeral the following Friday at the Baptist church Franklin attended as a child and he would be buried in Vinewood Cemetery next to his mother, grandmother, and grandfather. Michael decided after meeting with Denise it would be a good idea to at last attempt to talk with Lamar and get his idea on things. Denise thought it was a good idea as well. They were practically brothers after all. Michael found himself knocking on the door to Lamar's house and was greeted by Chop first and then Lamar. He reached down to scratch the dog's ear as Lamar slowly walked out onto the porch to see Michael. 

"Hey Lamar."

"Hey man."

Lamar turned his head giving Michael a glimpse of the mother tattoo inked into his neck before motioning for Michael to join him on the lawn chairs on the porch. Michael took a seat next to Lamar and watched Chop come to rest at Lamar's feet. 

"So whatcha want?"

Michael sighed and leaned forward and clasped his hands together. "I spoke with Franklin's aunt a few moments ago about helping to plan a funeral for Franklin and because you were his friend and whom he was closest to I figured you should have the most input on what should be done."

Lamar crossed his arms and tried to look nonchalant but was failing badly. He was so much like Trevor it was a little unnerving. No wonder the two of them got along so well. "Okay. So what did you two agree on?"

"I was thinking we could have the funeral this coming Friday. Denise wanted the visitation at the church and then have the burial at the Vinewood Cemetery where his mother, grandmother and grandfather are. What do you think?"

Lamar just shrugged and didn't even look at Michael. He just stared at the ground seemingly content with watching a beetle moving into a crack in the concrete rather than looking at Michael in the face. "Sounds good to me. I guess."

Michael wasn't sure if it would be appropriate to put a hand on his shoulder or to comfort him. He barely knew this kid but...he was Franklin's friend. One of the last remaining pieces of him. Michael had to try. For Franklin. 

"Hey. I want to hear your thoughts. I want to do this right. Please."

Lamar blinked hard and turned to face the garage door. "The fuck do you want me to say, man?  It's whatever."

"Lamar...come on."

Lamar tapped his heels nervously against the pavement and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands and breathed in tediously.  "I just...it's not...it's whatever. I don't care. You think you can come up in here and wave your big bucks around and then just act all...it's whatever...I...fuck it..."

Michael fumbled his brows together in a worried line and fumbled with his silver wedding ring on his hand while pondering what to say. Why did it always seem that whenever Michael tried to help with anything he only seemed to make the situation eleven times worse? Like trying to paint on a grain of rice subtly with a jackhammer.

Like a rag doll, Lamar caved in on himself and started sobbing much to Michael's surprise. "I just...really miss him, man."

"I know. Me too."

"He was like a brother to me."

"I know. You really meant a lot to him. I'm sorry."

It was true. Lamar was kind of like what Trevor was to Michael. So annoying one would want to punch the living daylights out of said person but they were the ones who made you laugh when you really needed it and had a sense of unbridled loyalty many could not find elsewhere. Michael hesitantly put a hand on Lamar's shaking shoulder and pushed his chair over so he was right beside him. Then he closed his arms around Lamar slowly waiting for some sort of resistance. Instead, Lamar leaned into it and pushed his crying face into the crook of Michael's shoulder. Michael was going to have to get a new shirt before heading down to Sandy Shores to tell Trevor what was going on. 

Of course, Trevor wasn't around by the time Michael got there. To fucking Sandy Shores. To Hell on earth. Only Ron was there but after asking Michael if he wanted to be interviewed for one of his conspiracy talk show hours on white-collar crime he soon sulked off to his trailer after Michael gave him more than an adamant rejection. Michael wheeled out a pack of Red Woods he had hidden from Amanda and lit up one, savoring the sweet smokey ecstasy in his mouth. Sure he was trying to quit for real this time and Amanda would have lost her shit if she saw him with the cigar puckered in his mouth but today was his cheat day. If of all days he ever deserved one this was certainly it. 

And he waited. 

And waited.

And waited.

Michael rehearsed what he was going to say enough times that he was starting to contradict himself in his own mind. Michael was one of the fortunate or perhaps unfortunate souls to get to witness what his own funeral would be like. Tracey and Jimmy weren't there as they had already been shipped out to Los Santos to the new place under the watchful eye of some Mexican maid named Eva that Amanda had picked out. Michael honestly didn't give a flying fuck at the time and thought a twelve and fourteen year olds were perfectly capable of handling themselves for the next few days but Amanda insisted they have someone show them around the town and take them to the pier and whatever else the kids were doing back in those days and Michael eventually caved to Amanda's demands as per usual. Besides what the fuck did he know about proper paternal nurturing? He always seemed to know what not to do. Don't hit your kids especially not with foreign objects taken from a dumpster pile, don't forget your kids birthday every year, make sure they have food in the house, don't blow their knee caps out with a gun, don't look them in a shed after breaking their arm so they don't call the police, don't forget to pay your water bill, don't not pay for their schooling, etc., etc. 

He didn't exactly have a frame of reference. His own father was an extremely abusive drunk, his mother a crack stripper with more than a few screws, and everyone else in Michael and Amanda's lives at the time were pimps,  sex workers, drug dealers, thieves, and Trevor who was a whole nother can of fucking spiders. Michael's father wasn't around for the funeral. He took off when Michael hit his teen years and when his mom pulled every story out of her ass to get Michael to stop crying about it until she resorted to burning his hand on the side of a boiling pot of water and explained it would be his fucking face next if he didn't shut the fuck up about it. It should go without saying his mother wasn't present for the funeral either despite Amanda trying to send her an invitation to the old trailer hellhole Michael had the misfortune of digging through trash cans and running into the dark woods to hide from his father's fists and his mother's guilt-tripping and later his mother when she lost her mind. Whatever. Michael never really cared about her anyway.

Who was there was a pathetic turnout. The priest Michael used to confess his sins to who was less than thrilled to get to pray for probably the longest list of sins a family member had ever handed him to be absolved before the Heavenly Father who frankly never gave a shit about Michael before at the funeral and this was evident in the jabs made towards his character as a father and a husband. Fucking dick. Like he was so perfect. It wasn't that Michael really believed in God...at least not enough to spook him into being a better person...but in his mind, it was better to be safe than sorry. Then, of course, the soup worker from the same church who had gotten Amanda out of sex work and gave prostitutes on the side of the road to Lunedorff warm food and clothes when it was cold out, his wife who was one of those religious fucking nuts...in fact they both were...but nice enough people who were there for Amanda and the kids when Michael wasn't...which was pretty much all the time. And one of Amanda's sisters and her police officer husband who went to all his kid's birthday parties and Christmas parties both of which he almost always managed to get out of coming to. It was really fucking interesting and quite a coincidence that all of Amanda's sisters and brother became strippers at the same club their mom was a pimp at and even more coincidental they all did outwork as well. Still, Amanda put on quite a show...all those crocodile tears. Would she had been so upset if he really bite the bullet? Who fucking knew at this fucking point?

Trevor and Michael hadn't seen or talked to each other since...Michael handed Devin's ass to him almost seventeen times over seven and ended up scaring himself. Not that that wasn't a common occurrence. They hadn't talked about Franklin's death or the whole North Yankton situation...which Michael had yet to fully...apologize...to Trevor. Michael knew he fucked up when he started to realize he was at the mercy of Trevor's forgiveness which was fucking terrifying but at the same time somewhat enduring in a weird disturbing sort of way. He felt his eyes start to grow heavy only to be drawned out by the sound of his phone buzzing in his pocket. 

It was Amanda. 

"How did it go with Denise?"

Michael rubbed his eyes and sighed before answering. "It went well actually. I spoke to Lamar too. They said we can help with the funeral next Friday. You sure you want to come?"

"Of course I want to come. He was your friend and Jimmy and Franklin seemed close. I'll be there. Does Denise need anything? I can make some casseroles."

Michael snorted. "You can cook? I'll believe it when I see it."

"Well let me rephrase. I'll have Eva cook a casserole. I can also have her whip up some soups and cookies and brownies for the visitation. And yes I can cook! Remember? Back in the midwest?"

"Oh yeah..."

"Oh yeah? Psst. Don't think I didn't notice you feeding the dog your food and then acting like it was the best meal you had ever tasted. Like having a fucking three old man baby for a husband."

"Hey. Burnt pecan casserole just isn't my taste. Besides its the thought that counts because I know how hard it is to be a woman in the kitchen."

"Oh please." Amanda laughed at that and then her voice turned to a concerned tone. "Are you sure you're all right Michael?"

"Yeah. Just waiting for Trevor to get back from whatever fucking nightmare he just caused. I'm at his trailer now."

"So I shouldn't save a place for you at the dinner table tonight?"

"No. I can heat leftovers in the microwave. I may be a rich asshole but I'm not that much of a rich asshole."

"Okay but you better be eating properly."

"Okay."

"And sleeping."

"Yes, dear."

"And you better not be smoking!"

"Well about that..."

Amanda sighed deeply on the other end of the line.

"What? I thought we were gonna be honest with each other from now on."

"Well someone is a smartass..."

"Ah but I'm your smartass!"

"Yes, you certainly are. I have to go. Takeout kid's here. I love you. Be safe baby."

"I love you too Amanda. Bye-bye."

Trevor of course was on the other side of San Andreas at this time just coming down from a three-day drug binge. To be fair the only true friend he had left used his trust and love of him to try and have a FIB sniper shoot and kill him so he was within reasonable bounds to be upset. Or as close to reasonable as one could get with Trevor. He was coming to..slowly. His head hurt. 

Everything hurt. Trevor slowly peeled his eyes open to see that the sun was setting. He had tried to open eyes before but the light had been far too bright. The skyline was much more bearable for the first time since this drug trip. 

What was it he had taken again?

Alcohol almost certainly. Or at least that is what the bottle his left hand was wrapped around indicated. 

How much? Now that was another guessing game altogether. One in which Trevor was not in a sober mindset to perform. 

PCP?

Glass? It is most definitely true that that had taken place. 

Trevor opened his eyes more to reveal that he was in the middle of the fucking desert. Okay. So location was down. He slowly looked down to reveal he was in one of the dresses he had bought from Binco and spreading his legs wider revealed several fresh cuts and scratches that lead up to his uncovered genitals. 

Well, that was certainly going to hurt in the morning. Trevor slowly stood up and began making his way to his truck. Or at least where he thought his truck could be.

He wasn't really in the mood to go for a hangover, sunburnt scavenger hunt but it is what it fucking is.  When he finally found the truck which oddly enough was parked nicely in a hotel parking lot he began to make his way back almost getting there at three in the morning while taking periodic slurps of the dirty water bottle he had gotten from the vending machine in the parking lot he had parked his truck at. Luckily he had a change of filthy clothes in the lockbox to change into. No underwear though. Fuck. 

What he hadn't expected was coming home to a snoozing Michael on his porch. 

It was a surprise but certainly not an unwelcome one. 

Trevor began walking over before feeling everything start get dizzy.

Then everything became warm. 

Probably was just the drugs.

He looked over to the Michael and panicked when he saw a nasty bruise forming in the center of his forehead and the back of his head splitting open like a clam with black teeth. 

He tried to reach over to shake Michael but found himself being pulled by gravity.

And then the world went dark.

Into a firey hellhole of darkness.

"...and then we woke up to having water dumped on our faces...and seeing you...was just-"

"Like I said Franklin we really missed you." The Trevor clapped his hand on Franklin's shoulder which Frankin weaseled out of. 

This whole thing was just...bizzare. And wasn't helping with the whole argument he had been having in his head since meeting Michael. 

Well after their first mission together. Rescuing Jimmy's ass. Michael grabbed his wrist before he jumped up on the boat and told him to be careful as he wasn't about to be responsible for his death. It was weird knowing that a Michael from elsewhere would have mourned if he had died. 

Thank fuck it wasn't Franklin's Michael. 

And then both of them were back to looking at him with those sad puppy dog-like eyes that were starting to get on Franklin's last nerve. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Trevor A giving a similar sad look towards the Michael who had lost his Franklin. 

"Okay. So you two are from Reality D. Would that make sense?" Jane turned to Marnie as she said it as though she wasn't entirely sure.

Marnie nodded. "Makes sense. They still went through with the Deathwish with a few small changes but the results were still ultimately the same. My other self from D wouldn't have tried to reach out to me as...well...everything is like it is here."

"Except it's not because Franklin is fucking dead!" Trevor D growled beside Franklin.

Marnie flinched and backed up a bit clearly somewhat uneasy but Jane just rolled her eyes at the entire thing. It was a bit bizarre she wasn't afraid but then again she was a street preacher for a "non-profit" self-help group.

Franklin didn't need her help. He had his own self-help books comfortably sitting under the coffee table in the center of the room. Michael had given them to him when the three of them helped clean up his attic before watching Michael get shit faced and drunk talk about his daddy. He had a lot of them just lying around up there and most had his messy handwriting in them. Michael had all different kinds from every religion, school of thought, and every other category Franklin could think of. 

Islam, Christianity, Buddhism, Daoism, Catholic, Mormon, Jainism, Confucianism, Orthodox Jewish, Hinduism, Epilson Program leaflets, psychoanalysis, psychology, sociology, various celebrity and public figure memorias, marriage help books, books about parenting, Children of the Mountain books, suicide autobiographies, bibliographies about human suffering, psych medication doc books and on and on. Franklin felt like he had gone down the rabbit hole of a psychoanalytical fanatic in the twilight zone. Trevor was far too occupied on the other side of the room looking over baby pictures of Michael's kids. What Franklin hadn't realized at the time was Michael was staring at him from behind a stack of skin magazines until he turned his head to see Michael's eyes facing him over the boxes. 

"Damn Michael. How many of these books do you have in here?"

"3,728. Well, 3,729." Michael waved a brightly colored rectangle-shaped book in his face before throwing it on top of the pile and turning back to sorting through the skin mags. 

"Damn."

"I always told you Michael was a pussy." Trevor spoke up from behind the stack of boxes that contained all the various photographs of family events Michael had no doubt missed out on because he and Trevor were off breaking every fucking law under the fucking sun all of which the only reminance of punishment either would receive was the cosmic punishment of ethereal guilt and their fucked up friendship the two had come desperate to crave from one another. It was kind of sweet in a really fucked up way. 

"Oh yeah?"

Trevor moved across the tight space like some kind mutated human spider while narrowing his eyes. "Yeah, pussy." 

Franklin rolled his eyes and picked up the book Michael had thrown on the pile. "Can you two stop? Please?"

"You heard em Trevor. Stop being a dick."

"Oh, I'm being a dick? That's rich coming from you!"

"Oh, would you come off it!"

"You come off it!"

"No! You!"

"You wanna go now!"

"Yeah if you could take me psycho! I fear you're a bit too slow old man!"

"Old man? Old man? Oh, I'll show you fucking-"

"GUYS! PLEASE!" Franklin threw a book at both of them and shook his head. 

Michael sighed and put his hands up to indicate he wasn't going to continue. "Sorry Franklin."

Trevor did the same except without the apology. Fucking typical. 

Michael handed Franklin one of the boxes of books. "Here. I thought you might like these. And if you don't read em I figured they could make some nice decorations for your new place."

Franklin grinned. "Thanks, man. Appreciate it." 

It wasn't until Franklin had brought the books home and placed them up on the shelf and sorted through so not boring looking ones and placed them neatly under the coffee table that Franklin had realized the grand errors of his ways.

The house was given to him by Lester sure but because of Franklin's hard work. But this was willing accepting gifts from an older man he looked up to. If Lamar was here he would remind Franklin of the FF word. A word Franklin didn't want to think about. 

The worst part was was that he actually started reading the 100 Tips For Improving Self Esteem book.

No. Worst part was he actually fucking enjoyed it. Michael had even written a little note with a smiley face to him in the front cover. As though he knew Franklin would start reading that one first. Like he knew Franklin so fucking well. 

This was turning into an FF situation and Franklin only had himself to blame.

Oddly enough Michael never brought up the books. Just smiled smugly whenever Franklin remotely brought up something in one of them. 

And it made Franklin wanted to throw himself off a building for falling prey to the FF situations Michael kept putting him in since the day he sought him out. All the FF situation advice and all past criminal this and don't do anything stupid that. Fucking Michael. 

Everyone in sync turned towards the burned Michael and the Trevor who was giving everyone a confused death stare. Franklin felt bad for the burned Michael as the entire time he had been here he had been turning his burnt half away as though to hide it. His Michael was a vain person. 

Well more like a secret vain person. Always acting like the jabs at his declining looks didn't bother him but according to Trevor he apparently had his back waxed and dyed his hair. Wasn't really that surprising considering how mopey Michael could be. 

The Trevor sighed and nudged the burnt Michael next to him. "Looks like its our turn. You want to start?"

The burnt Michael sighed. "I guess."

He turned towards Franklin, Michael D, and Trevor D before continuing. "I'm sorry about you losing your friend. I lost a lot as well." He made a motion towards the burnt face, the glassed over eyeball and the sleeve that hung loose on his blue pajamas were his arm had presumably once been. 

"I guess I should start at the beginning. I went through pretty much the same childhood as Michael F and Michael D from the sound of it. 'cept I didn't join no military or FIB." There was malice in his voice when he said that and he gave Michael F a savagely angry side look as he did it. Franklin's Michael could be fucking terrifying when he wanted to be. He could also make on feel guilty just with a simple look but this was even scary to look at and enhanced based on the horrendous burn scars. 

The burnt Michael motioned towards the Trevor beside him who was now touching his shoulder softly and giving him a sympathetic look. It was really freaking Franklin out to see anything resembling that on anything resembling Trevor. "And I guess we met the same way too. Canadian border cargo haul?"

"Where Trevor blasted some poor fuckers eye open with a flare gun? Yup. Sounds about right." Michael D said with a fondness in his voice from the memory. 

Trevor F and Michael F looked a little bit horrified at that and Trevor D added in his two cents of "I was playing peacemaker. GIve me a fucking break."

"Yeah. Anyways, I had an Amanda and a Tracey and a Jimmy too."

Something changed in the room when the burnt Michael said that. 

Had

What an awful fucking word. 

Even the sick Michael on the armchair who had been avoiding eye contact the entire time looked up with a sympathetic glance towards the burnt Michael. Hell even Trevor A looked upset. Franklin's Trevor loved Michael's kids. He had seen it enough times to know it. The way he ruffled Jimmy's hair when they went to go surprise Michael at the movie studio, the way he intently listened to Tracey bitch about her college classes, that one time the sleaze bag who catcalled Tracey was reported missing on Weseal News the next day...

The burnt Michael took in a shaking breath and nervously picked at a stain on his pajama pants. "Um...it was...I...back in North Yankton...things were going bad. I was all over the news. Sorry..we...were all over the news. There were nationwide manhunts after us. I knew that if I was caught or killed or if someone from a rival crew found out about my family and something happened. I just...I couldn't live with myself at the time. I tried to turn myself in. I hoped in doing that the FIB would give me a reduced punishment or at least do something to help keep my family safe. But instead a man named Dave Norton who was working on my case had a better idea."

"You made a deal with the FIB. Trevor for you and your family's freedom." Michael D said with that regret Franklin had grown accustomed to hearing whenever his Michael brought up what had happened. 

"Yeah. Except I...I couldn't go through with it. I tried to get my way out of the deal."

Both the sick Michael and Michael D looked horrified when he said that. One look at Michael F and Trevor F told the same thing.

" You tried to swindle your way out of a deal with the fucking FIB!"

The Trevor next to the burned Michael narrowed his eyes towards Michael D. "Hey. Shut your fucking mouth asshole. He was trying to do what was best for his family and his friends. Show some fucking decency."

Okay. This definitely was not Franklin's Trevor. 

"No. Trevor it's alright. He's right. It was fucking stupid."

"So what? Did you tell Trevor about this? How did he take it?" Michael D was leaning forward as though he would catch the words coming out of their mouths sooner if he got closer to them. 

"I...um..."

The Trevor next to burned Michael shrugged. "I didn't know the full details until much much later."

"Yeah you and me both pal." Trevor A and Trevor D said simultaneously while giving Michael D the same glare which he seemed to shrink down under. 

"So what happened?" Michael D looked eager to change the subject. Franklin couldn't really blame him.

"Well, we had pissed off a lot of people at the time. And I had just pissed off an entire government organization who now knew where I lived. Where my family lived. We had helped rob from this mob bank-owned  Vercotti Gang up in Liberty City who was under the command of Robert Seragliano at the time. Stuff went down."

"What kind of stuff?"

Flowers. He could get Amanda flowers. Now flowers won't necessarily make up for snogging and fucking a stripper but it would have to do. Besides Michael had been nice enough to not bring up how comfy Jimmy's teacher and Amanda had been getting so she would have to forgive him. She just had to. Michael looked over his ming stew to see Lester nervously darting his eyes between Brad and Trevor who were sitting opposite of each other with Brad sitting next to Lester in the booth and Trevor sitting next to Michael. 

Trevor was slurping way louder than was necessary and kept shooting murderous glances towards Brad who was looking down at the soup and stirring it carefully and very clearly avoiding eye contact with Trevor. The whole thing was odd because up to this point Trevor had made it clear Brad was going to be Michael's replacement both to his face and conversations Michael had overheard when walking in late to a heist planning session. Brad also had a shiner on his right eye and looked as though he had fallen from a ten-story height. Michael decided not to ask what had happened or what argument between the two of them he missed out on and he didn't want to know. 

Just mind your own damn business, Michael. 

No one had said anything since the four of them had sat down at the wobbly table to eat their overcooked Chinese food but the tension was palatable. Not that it mattered to Michael. He was going home to see his family. Tracey's birthday was Saturday and he wasn't going to miss it. Again.

Aw shit. He didn't have a present. Would have to pick that up on the way back to. Now, what were the girls into these days? A doll should suffice. Or was Tracey too old for that? Fuck.

If he and Trevor weren't fighting then he would have asked him for this. After they had finished their meals and tipped the cute Japanese waitress more than was necessary Trevor, much to Michael's surprise wrapped his arm around Michael's shoulders as the three of them exited the mom and pop Chinese restaurant into the cool January air until he saw who Trevor was smirking at as he did it. 

Brad.

Fucking dick head Brad. 

Although Michael would love to punch one right between the punk ass's eyes and had absolutely no qualms with reminding the man who had been here first but he was not interested in playing whatever sick games or stupid punchline or last word Trevor was trying to put into the argument he and Brad had before Michael had gotten to the safe house they all agreed to meet at. Michael wheezed his way out of the embrace and headed over to the gas station across the road where the car was parked. It was Trevor's turn to drive anyhow. 

"I'm gonna go get a present for Tracey's birthday and a I'm sorry about cheating on you with a hooker gift for Amanda. Be right back. Make yourself useful T and make sure the car starts would you?" Michael threw the keys over his shoulder and heard Trevor catch them in his gloved hands. 

What exactly Michael got that day he didn't remember. He probably went with the doll and one of those coloring books where you had to find the squirrel hiding in the princess garden. Perhaps he bought a packet of colorful crayons or one of those drawing kits with seven hundred different green colored pencils. The flowers were probably roses or maybe he had gotten Amanda a fern. These details weren't exactly important. 

What he did remember was the presitsistant argument that he and Trevor had as soon as Michael sat down in the passenger seat. All the way to Michael's damn house. The fucking psycho just did not let the fuck up sometimes. Walking around with a goddamn plank in his eye while trying to pull the dust out of everyone else's. 

 Michael remembered the sense of relief he felt when he saw the polished picket fence of his house that was already sprinkled with snow like some kind over-glorified Christmas card. Michael was about to gather the plant and the present before Trevor grabbed his shoulder before he had a chance to get out of the car. 

"Jesus Christ what now?" Michael was getting pretty fucking fed up with all these lectures and screaming matches and soap boxing from Trevor constantly. Ever since he got married. No ever since he got Amanda pregnant. No even before that. When he fucking started showing an interest in Amanda. It was always about Trevor and whatever the hell he wanted. Fucking psychopathic asshole. Fucking typical. 

Trevor just rolled his eyes and reached into his pocket to pull out a small red box and shoved it into Michael's hand. 

"The fuck is this shit?"

Trevor looked like a kicked puppy when Michael threw that line out. "A present for Tracey. Duh. Jesus Michael, you really got get your head at your own righteous ass sometimes."

Micahel suspiciously looked the small package over in the limited light the street lamp above them was giving him in the car. "I swear to fucking God Trevor if this is a fucking human fingernail or an eyeball or some other human anatomy shit-"

"If you want to open it and see what it is for yourself go ahead. But don't get all fussy at me when Tracey complains about your piss poor wrapping skills."

Michael decided to ignore that insult to his perfectly fine present wrapping skills and took off the small red wrapping and opened the box to reveal a small dolphin necklace. It was one of those mood necklaces that would change color with the heat of one's palm.

Tracey was going to love it. The fact Michael couldn't even remember what he had gotten her that night showed how much lamer his present was in comparison. Fucking father of the year over here. 

Michael really had no idea what to say. "Um...thanks T. I guess."

"Why are you saying thank you? It's for Tracey. Unless you want to go on the next score with some extra dazzle."

"Eh fuck you."

Michael rolled his eyes and carefully shut the box and wrapped it up before collecting his belongs and heading out into the cold unforgiving winter night. Or morning. Amanda and the kids were probably still asleep. 

As Michael heard the car drive away and he ascended the three stairs to the porch he secretly thanked God that Trevor didn't twist his arm about coming to Tracey's party or anything like that. Amanda would have freaked the fuck out if he tried to pull the same shit he did last year and well they weren't exactly on the best of terms at the moment. 

When Michael approached the door his heart stopped. 

The door look liked someone had rammed into it repeatedly. 

That wasn't...

That wasn't right. 

He slowly twisted the knob and pushed the door open into the mudroom. All the lights were off and everything was quiet.

He wanted to scream out for his wife and kids but he didn't want to wake them up and freak them out if nothing was wrong.

Or worst-case scenario alert whoever had broken into the house to his arrival. He knew from his time robbing houses that a robbery went to a murder when the robber was spooked. Still, he placed his belongs on the shoe bench beneath the neatly hung coats, pulled out his gun slowly, and made his way through the darkened house. He was greeted with a foul yet familiar order radiating through the whole house. Yet he was too panicked to place his finger on what it was. 

The place was ransacked. Pillows were everywhere, drawers had been pulled open, shit spilled all over the floor. Michael made his way to his bedroom and saw the bedroom was a similar state. The worse part was the bed was empty. 

Amanda and Tracey and Jimmy are just hiding. There are guns hidden all over the house. I taught Amanda how to use them when we were dating. Trevor taught Jimmy and Tracey against my wishes but now I'm kind of glad he did. Everything is fine. Everything is fine. Everything is fine. 

Just then Michael heard a noise from the kitchen. A small groan. 

Amanda had insisted they get those stupid cowboy swing doors for the kitchen like one fo those old western films to add to the whole ambiance of the house. Michael thought they looked stupid and now he hated them more than ever. How the fuck was he supposed get a badass dad rescue moment with a squeaky door? He now regretted pushing off Amanda's bitching about gettting the creaking sound fixed in favor of watching Lions and Donkies while drinking a pack of cold ones as he pushed open the door and visibly cringed as he heard the loud squeak come from the base of the doors. 

"Amanda? Tracey? Jimmy?" He whispered into the darkness. The clouds were covering up the moon outside. His only source of light was the street lamps outside which weren't helping his vision. 

He began to creep into the darkness watching for any movements or shadows that were out of place before he heard a groan that sounded like one of those zombies in those trashy video games Jimmy liked to play for hours on end. 

"Michael..." It was weak and distinctly Amanda's voice. Michael crawled softly over to the other side of the island and tried not to freak out when he saw his wife clutching her torso and blood pooling around her body. He tried to gentely lift her but felt her moan in pain so he left her be as he tried to assess the damage with the limited lighting he had.

"Michael...the kids..."

Michael ran his fingers through her hair cringing as he felt dried blood and bruises there. There were marks on her face, her arms, all over her body. These people...whoever they were hadn't just shot her...they tortured her..destroyed her home...his home..his santuary...his safe place. Fucking bastards were gonna pay for this. If they had even laid a finger on Jimmy or Tra ey.

"Michael..the kids..I need to.." Amanda tried to sit up but Michael gentely pushed her back down.

"It's okay honey. I'll go get them. Do you know if anyone else is in the house still?" He leaned close to her face so he could whisper. He kept an eye on the swinging doors and the windows for any movement.

"I...I don't think so..I think...I think they left..." 

"Okay. Do you know where the kids are?"

"Basement. Special hiding place."

A surge of relief washed over him when Amanda said that. He reached over to the stove to pull down the cloth that was hanging there and put Amanda's hand in the blood clotting position. 

"Hold this there. I'll be right back okay? I'm just gonna go get the kids and then we're gonna get you to a hospital. Everything is going to be okay."

Amanda's eyes light up in terror as Michael said that and she grasped at this arm hard enough to bruise.

"No. No. Please, Michael. You can't leave me here. Those men. What if they're...you don't know what they did to me Michael...it was...I-"

"Shhh." Michael gently began wiping the tears away and pulled Amanda into a half-hug of sorts. As much as the gaping hole in her stomach would allow for. "It will be alright. I'm just gonna go downstairs to the basement and get the kids...okay? Amanda. Amanda?"

No answer. The tight hold she had on him began to go limp.

"Amanda. No. Stay with me. Amanda!" 

It was too late. Michael felt the last of heartbeat through his fingertips near the base of her neck. He took in shaking breath. There would be time for mourning later. RIght now he had to get his kids. 

He slowly moved from the kitchen, into the living room, and down the stairs to the basement. 

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw next. 

Jimmy and Tracey laying side by side face up holding onto each other for dear life with both their necks slit open and their eyes glassed over and staring at the ceiling in terror. 

There was a loud noise on the roof and in what was presumably the kitchen. 

Then an ear-piercing explosion followed. 

Oh. 

Gasoline.

He had smelled gasoline.

He didn't care anymore. He reached down to cradle his dead children in his arms as his entire life and everything he had worked so hard to build continued to burn around him. The last thing he remembered was a beam from the floor of the house falling on top of him and the world going dark.

He woke up the first time not fully as he didn't try to open his eyes. He just smelled latex and medication and hospital tiles. Then he felt something in him force the sleep to return. 

The second time though he opened his eye. His vision blurry at first but soon came to reveal the hospital room where he was staying. 

Something wasn't right though. He slowly pulled the iv filled right arm over to where his left should be and felt nothing but blank space. He reached up further and futher until he found a stub where the arm had once been.

Then the panic began rising as the memories of the love of his life dying his arm, Dave Norton, the FIB, Seragliano, the last thing he saw being his children who looked so scared and terrified. He reached up to the left side of his face and felt nothing but bandages there. He tried to sit up but soon realized he was an almost full-body cast preventing and restricting his movement. Everything hurt but nothing worse than the pain running through his mind. 

Then he felt a soft touch against his bare shoulder and arms pulling him gently back down into a lying position with a familiar comforting voice mumbling to him softly.  He then fell unconscious again. 

The third time he woke up he found out who his rescuer had been. 

Trevor bent over the bed and smiled softly at Michael who just glared at him. "Good morning sleeping beuty. How are you feeling?"

Michael said nothing. Trevor didn't seem to notice. 

"You should probably get something to eat. It's past breakfast time so the court won't have any of those pancakes you like so much but I am sure I can ask. I could get you some jell-o. You like jell-o Michael? Some blue jell-o? Perhaps a cornish pasty? I head it's cornish pasty night."

Michael scanned Trevor's body calculating which part he was going to break first. 

"Oh and the hospital? Don't worry about it. One of those Jewish Christian whatever the fuck charities that believe in the good in everybody or some bullshit like that so they won't report us"

Michael was practically face butting Trevor's face when he grabbed Trevor's jacket and shoved their faces inches apart. Trevor looked surprised but he didn't look scared. He was never fucking scared. This only pissed off Michael more. 

"What did you do?"

"Well isn't it obvious. I rescued your fatass."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you do it?"

Trevor looked like Michael had just asked a stupid question. "Well because we're best friends of course. What? Did you think I wasn't going to run into a burning building for you? I've done it bef-"

"Let me ask you something. Did it ever occur to you that maybe I didn't want to be fucking rescued? That I wanted to fucking be left there to fucking die? Did that ever occur to you? Huh? You ignorant selfish fuck! DID IT?"

Trevor didn't get and angry or scared. He just stared at Michael with this odd sort of twisted empathy which made Michael want to break his face into the wall even more. 

"MY FAMILY IS DEAD! THEY'RE ALL DEAD!"

Just saying it out loud made the sentiment even more real to Michael. 

"I know Michael. I'm sorry..."

"OH, YOU AREN'T SORRY YET! NOT EVEN CLOSE! WHEN I GET OUT OF THIS SHIT I'M COMING FOR YOUR ASS! I'M GONNA PUT YOU UNDER THE FUCKING GROUND! I'M GONNA BREAK EVERY BONE IN YOUR BODY!"

Trevor of course just stood there with that stupid look on his face and didn't pull away from Michael. Just stared at him. 

"So what? Got nothing to say about that? Just gonna stand there? Of course, it would all make sense. Your father abandoned you and now I can see fucking why! And the other fathers you had were either beating the everloving shit out of you or shoving their dick up your ass or fondling your balls or whatever the fuck else but apparently they didn't beat you hard enough to put some common sense into your goddamned head! And why should I be surprised that you can't understand how I feel. How's your mother Trevor? Oh? Nothing to say about that huh! You are incapable of feeling any sort of love or decency towards anyone. Incapable of relationships and what have you! Well, guess what pal! You might as well pack up your things and get out of here! The fun show is over! You had your fun! Because I swear on my family's grave and on God himself I will wring your neck and throw you over the bridge! Got it? You're dead to me! Dead to me, you hear! If I ever see your ugly mug again I swear I will rip your tongue out! I swear it!"

Trevor instead of getting angry just started gently rubbing the knuckles that were currently at a death grip for his throat and mumbled "That's good. That's good. Let it all out, Mikey. It's good to let it all out."

"I swear to God I will clip your Canadian ass!"

The insults seemed to be running off of Trevor and it was starting to piss Michael off. He wished Trevor would just fucking angry and attempt to deck him in the face but he did no such thing. 

So Michael made the first move by decking Trevor in the chest and then attempting to go for his nose which he dodged easily and pinned Michael's arm to the bed as he tried to roll Trevor off him and break free while screaming like some hideous werewolf ravaging a village in the night.

"YOU FUCKING MOTHERFUCKER!"

"Michael stop it. You're going to hurt yourself even worse."

"WELL, MAYBE THAT'S WHAT I WANT!"

"No, you really don't-"

"DON'T TELL ME WHAT I FUCKING WANT! WE'VE BOTH ESTABLISHED THAT!"

Trevor didn't say anything. He just stood there holding Michael in place until Michael tired himself out from screaming, yelling, threatening, and fighting until the bright red anger in his soul disapapated into an ugly blue sadness that felt like his insides were being punched.

Rising and rising until the only thing that came out were broken ugly sobs. Each one making Michael more exhausted than the next. 

"They're all dead Trevor. They're all dead."

"I know Michael I know. I'm so sorry." Michael felt himself being pulled gently into a sort of half embrace. "I'm so fucking sorry."

The only thing he had in response to that was a scream of angry. Not particularly to Trevor but more so towards the universe for punishing him like this. Who could be so cruel?

Trevor moved his hand to the back of his neck and gently rubbed soft circles there which made Michael feel more grounded. 

He just couldn't stop crying. In fact, he cried himself to sleep. 

He awoke to find Trevor nuzzled up to his side and fast asleep. Michael took note of the gaze he had on his arm and hands that he hadn't noticed before.

Burns. From fire. 

It made Michael feel a twinge of guilt for getting all in his face earlier. He had decided to let Trevor sleep as he looked as though he was exhausted. He probably was. Then he would give him shit. 

And oh boy did he give him a lot of trouble. 

Whenever Trevor brought him food Michael threw it across the room. Whenever the nurses came in to change his bandages or change the tubes Michael attacked them and had to be held down and sedated. The first nurse made the mistake of trying to get Michael to talk about his family while changing his IV tubes and the poor underpaid volunteer ended up with a broken hand. Michael eventually had a food tube shoved down his throat because he refused to eat anything which Trevor had warned him about happening serval times and when the day ineffitably came Michael made sure to make it as difficult for them as possible with his teeth, nails, and fists. Michael continued to throw insults around and would claw at and hit Trevor.

Later on, the doctors tried to explain what had happened but Michael wasn't having any of it. He would look at anything else and talk over them and mock them and occasionally scream over them. But what he understood was that he had burned most of his body, his leg they were able to save but his arm was completely burned off. His eye was still there but it won't work and his face reconstruction...well they did the best they could. 

Eventually, Michael caved in and started eating.

Then they released him to go home with Trevor the last person on Earth he wanted to be with. 

"So Mikey you want to get anything to eat?" Trevor said as he pushed Michael in the wheelchair to his trailer.

"I already ate today Trevor."

"Yeah. A half a piece of toast and a banana."

"What more do you want from me? I'm tired. I just want to go to fucking bed."

"Okay, Michael. Whatever you want to do."

Trevor lead him to their bedroom figuring he would just sleep on the couch for tonight. Michael could have his bed. He could have whatever the fuck he wanted. Besides Trevor was tired as fuck and could use some sleep. 

He should have known that something was fucking up. 

He woke up just in time to see Michael had hobbled out of the bedroom to the couch and pulled the gun out from underneath Trevor's head and was setting it up against his forehead. 

"No! Michael!" He grabbed Michael's arm and forced him to the floor but Michael had an iron and continued to try and put the gun up to his face as Trevor struggled to pull it away from him. "You're going to hurt yourself you stupid fuck!" Luckily him having two arms helped levitate the advantage to Trevor's side. "Michael! Fuck! Stop it!" Trevor finally got the gun out of his grasp and shoved it to the other end of the room. He was originally was just ganna hold Michael down and talk him down-

-but that all changed when Michael almost bite his fucking finger off and Trevor ended up sending him into the side of the cabinets. 

On the side that was bandaged. He heard Michael scream in pain before scooting away from Trevor until his back hit the row of cabinets behind him. His skin had opened up and was bleeding under the bandages and was leaving a cold bloody trail as though somebody had sprayed raspberry jam all over the side of his face. Trevor reached out to him and caught his body before he fell unconscious beside Trevor and onto the floor. 

It was back to the hospital where both of them got screamed at by some overweight chick who hated her life and everyone else's about roughhousing and healing wounds and how all men were the fucking same. They had to redo Michael's bandages which was a whole nother can of worms Trevor's dwendling patience for Michael's actions was somehow able to take. 

Soon they were back at home and Trevor was helping the bitching Michael back into his bed. He turned to leave but Michael grabbed his wrist.

"Stay. Please."

Trevor rolled his eyes and silently prayed Michael wasn't planning to pull any more fucked up schematics for the night. He begrudgingly pulled the covers up and laid down beside Michael. In the morning he was surprised to find almost his entire body covered by Michael's. 

Didn't stop Michael from acting like an ass the entire rest of his recovery until THE funeral.

Amanda's family didn't show.

Well other than her sister and her police officer boyfriend who wasted no time asking Michael if they would be getting any life insurance benefits. Trevor followed the ass of a boyfriend to the bathroom who suddenly after that became more than eager to apologize.

The entire crew including Brad turned up. It truly was a miracle as most of them weren't aware that Michael even had a family. Well except for Lester...because Lester fucking knew everything. Which Michael would come to realize wasn't out of the goodness of their hearts or because they gave a shit about Michael but because of Trevor's threats that involved a pineapple, a dark alleyway and a turbine jet engine and suddenly everyone had a free schedule. 

Fucking incredible!

Eventually, Michael began walking again and had his bandages off. Trevor didn't react to the burn scars as he had seen way worse...and done way worse to others but the general public was not as forgiving. 

It was the fourth of July or the day of the Star-Spangled Invaders as Trevor liked to call it and there was going to be a firework show in a small park near the cornfields that whined off the road it a nice and rural spot where the folks drank nice cool lemonade with shotguns in their hands on their perfect white houses and perfect American dream lives. There was also some of that ice cream and popsicle junk Michael liked. They had a spot to themselves by an old oak tree with Michael turning the burned side of his face deep into the shadows. Trevor came back with two positcles that had tried their best and failed to resemble anything remotely looking like a American flag and handed one to Michael who started sucking on the tip with a loud smacking noise while Trevor watched him from the corner of his eye. 

Then it happened. 

It always fucking happened. 

"Mommy, what happened to that guy's face?"

The mother immediately yanked the little girl's arm. "Ramona! That was not very nice! I'm so sorry sir. Kids you know." She shrugged apologetically as she scooped up the young tot and Trevor turned to see Michael had already walked off aimlessly into the cornfield. 

Fuck. Not again. 

"Michael! M! Fucking asshole!"

Trevor went off to chase him and continued to call after him. Above them, the firework show started with the colorful powder like balls of flame bursting luminating both their paths.

Eventually, Michael came to the middle of the field and stopped. He got down on his hand and knees and sat down to watch the colorful display above them with some sort of depressed twisted awe. Trevor came to stand in front of him with his hands on his hips and shaking his head as though he were scolding a small child for spilling animal cookies all over the floor because they weren't tall enough to reach the top shelf. "Really M. How the fuck are we going to pull scores if you fall apart at the first kid who looks at you funny? So your face is a little messed up. So fucking what?"

Michael flipped towards Trevor and glared at him. "Does this look a little burned to you?"

"Okay, so a lot burned. Who fucking cares?"

"I fucking care!"

Trevor groaned and sat down beside Michael in the damp soil beneath them. "Well, you shouldn't. This isn't high school M. No one gives a shit about what fucking people look like. Besides you're gonna be wearing a mask anyhow. So what if you are not gonna be on Vinewood's Top Ten Models anytime soon."

"Yeah. So maybe you're right. But how do you suggest a shoot a fucking gun with one eye and one damn arm! I can barely even fucking run in a straight line or drive a car!"

"We'll find a way! We always do!"

"That's for fucking sure! Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps I didn't want you around!"

"Well with how much of an asshole you've been lately one might assume that but not me! See Michael I'm not like all those common American shitheads over there with their perfect happy lives and their sweet tea and their side chicks and porno mags! I see things no one else sees!"

"Oh like what? Hallucinations?"

"Don't fucking patronize me, Michael! I'm a psycho I'm not crazy!"

"That's the same goddamn thing!"

"No it's not!"

"Is too!"

"Is not!"

"Fuck off! What I'm basically saying is that you can't just give up on life!"

"And why the fuck not?"

"Why the fuck not? Because you're fucking Michael Townley for Christ's sake! You smuggled dope and ran whores and were one of the biggest badasses until-"

Trevor stopped and saw Michael was daring him to say something about his family.

"Never mind. It's a new fucking day! We can do whatever the fuck we want!"

"Yeah, you can. You can play the guitar, have basic depth perception, hold a gun, and fucking clap your hands."

"Jesus I've been trying to make this easier for you and all you want to do is focus on the negative-"

"Well excuse me for being more than a little upset about having more than half of my face looking like a monster out of a horror film and my fucking arm and eye gone!"

"See? There you go again with the negativity!"

"You know Trevor you are getting really close to being about to see what the ground looks like up close."

"And you know Michael that no matter how hard you push me away I will always come right fucking back."

"You can say that again."

"Alright smartass since I can't seem to be of any help what the fuck do you want to do?"

"What?"

"Score, heist, a goddamn pyramid scheme! I'll take anything at this fucking point!"

Michael looked down at the dirt pile he had made with the sole of his shoe during the course of this conversation. "Trevor you just keep pushing and pushing and pushing...ah fuck. I hate you so damn much."

"You say that but I don't see anyone else sitting out here with your miserable ass."

"Thanks T. That's real nice of yah."

Trevor shoved his shoulder. "Well someone's got to keep that God-sized ego of yours in check!"

Michael sighed and pressed his fingers up to the tip of his nose. "I suppose we could kill Dave Norton."

"Who?"

"Never mind. Not important. Just forget I said anything."

Trevor did exactly the opposite and with some Lester vision soon discovered who it was. 

"YOU WERE RUBBING SHOULDERS WITH FUCKING FIB AGENTS!"

Michael looked over his coffee mug as he took a deep sip and narrowed his eyes towards Trevor. "The fuck are you talking about?"

Trevor slammed the document with Dave Norton's miserable face in the center.

Michael had the audacity to play dumb. "I have never seen that man before in my life."

"Oh really?"

"Besides why the fuck do you care?"

"Oh maybe because I don't know...you always fucking go off about keeping a low profile and such but can't seem to do it yourself."

"Fine. He was the guy who I turned myself into. Happy?"

"What?"

"We made a deal."

"A deal? What kind of fucking deal?"

"It's really not worth going into details with!"

"Well, I have time so fucking spill!"

So Michael did and Trevor just sat down and listened. 

"Alright. So that's what it was. So if you're gonna kill me then kill me."

"No Michael. We're gonna kill this fucker because of what he did to your family."

"So you're not mad?"

"Oh no, I'm fucking pissed at you Michael. But revenge is revenge. Got to kill the bigger assholes and all."

And not just him. Over the course of the years, Michael and Trevor took out many annoying g-men and crime bosses and eventually made their way to the Union Diposirtoy which they robbed with flawless efficiency. Retirement in the north of Canada, while they waited for what was next.

It wasn't all bad of course as they had grown closer.

It happened when they were watching An American Divorce for the hundredth time and Michael talked through the entire thing for the hundredth time. There was a part in it where the woman and the man (Trevor didn't bother remembering their names) stared deeply into each other eyes and talked about their brave passions for each other and whatnot when suddenly Michael went silent for a good five seconds and then the tv was turned off. 

Trevor turned to expect Michael throwing a fit put was surprised to see he had been the one to turn off the television and was just silently staring at the blank screen. He didn't say anything for a good few seconds before placing the remote onto the table and moving to stand nervously in front of Trevor. 

"Michael what-"

Trevor was silenced by Michael taking his chin in his one hand and pressing his lips chastely against his. Trevor melted like butter against him and pulled himself off up the coach to meet Michael halfway. 

The next morning they were side by side and Trevor tilted his head over to see Michael's face to see there were silent tears flowing from his eyes onto the white sheets beneath them. 

Michael turned toward him. "I still miss my family Trevor."

Trevor turned onto his side so he could look Michael in the eye. "I know Michael. I miss em too. Even if your  kids could be little shits at time."

Michael silently chuckled as Trevor pulled him into his arms and they stayed like that until the sun rose fully over the mountain silhouettes in the background.

The sad Michael in the corner arm chair and Michael D stared silently at the floor as though attempting to process experincing the pain the burned Michael before them had gone through. Franklin attempted to imagine his Michael without his family and he literally could not picture it.

Trevor D seemed to be thinking the same thing as he contemplated the entire thing with his hand upon his chin and his face in an angry sort of understanding. The kind of look you give a kid after they tried to trip you but then fall down a flight of stairs and end up breaking their ankle.

Well damn, that was dark. Franklin really really needed to stop hanging out with Trevor for a while. 

"Well they must be from Reality E then." Marnie said as though the two of them had won a fucking car in a fucking game show. 

Jane pointed towards the sad Michael. "Then where the fuck is he from?"

Trevor F flashed his teeth towards the Michael. "Yeah. What's your story?"

He said nothing and just shrugged his shoulders and then gave Franklin that same guilt tripping look and Franklin just couldn't-

"Okay look man it wasn't me who shoved you off  the Palmer-Taylor Power Station so stop looking at me like that!"

Everyone was staring at him. 

Jane and Marnie shared the same look that they shared when Trevor A recounted his death.

A death Franklin had already seen.

"Um...that was kind of specific Franklin." Michael D said.

"I mean it was a guess...or something...I don't...erm..." Franklin was not one to get tongue-tied but he hadn't meant to say that out loud. It just sort of came out. 

"He's from reality B." Marnie said motioning to the crowd.

"Uh, Franklin can we see you in the kitchen? Like right fucking now?"

"Yeah, whatever." Franklin followed them both there while hearing Michael F say "So you guys are all criminals? Jesus."

As soon as they were behind the cabinets Jane crossed her arms. "Alright spill. How did you know how Michael B died?"

"I have been having these dreams of it I guess where I kill Michael. I've also had dreams of killing Trevor with Michael by setting him on fire."

"Oh my fucking God! Just what we fucking needed!" Jane turned to Marnie. "So Franklin A and B are in on this too?"

"I don't...I don't know...maybe?" 

"Maybe? Maybe? What do you mean maybe? Clearly, if they've been sending him these memories...I mean who else would be able to do that?"

"Well there is a possibility they felt guilt for killing their mentors and there is a possibility they sought out their Marnies or maybe some other seer with the ability to try and bring people back from the dead..."

"Possible?"

"Well I mean Franklin, Trevor and Brother Zolag...seem close..."

"We're not that close..." Franklin said defensively. 

Another fucking FF situation. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

"Alright well we need to start making some of those energy devices. We can use the appliances in the kitchen here. So that we can balance out the toll it's taking on the aruoas in this house." Marnie began motioning towards the toaster and the microwave and stove as she said it. The two began setting to work destroying Franklin's kitchen as another loud arguement broke out in Franklin's living room. 

"Right. I'll get the hydrosphere from my car and Franklin you get on the phone with your Michael. See if he's still here."

"Wait what?"

"Just fucking do it!"

"Damn." Franklin mumbled to himself as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and punched in the last number on Earth he wanted to dial at this moment. 

"Hey, kid. What's up?"

"Sorry super weird fucking question. Did you happen to have an older or younger sister?"

There was a pause. Just then persumbly Trevor A screamed out some pretty low remarks about Michael's family which caused all the Michael's to start yelling back at him. 

"No. What's-"

"Uh...WILL YOU ALL SHUT THE FUCK UP? I'm ON THE FUCKING PHONE? GOD DAMN!"

Bunch of fucking immature aniamals. 

"Franklin? Are you okay?"

"Is he still there?" Franklin almost dropped his phone when Jane appeared out of nowhere behind him to say it. 

"Yeah. He's still there. Now where the fuck did y'all come from?" 

"Frank? Kid?"

"Look man. I got to go. Could you come by my place at some time today?"

Jane practically slapped the phone out of his hand. "No! Are you fucking stupid? Don't tell him to come here." 

"Franklin? What's going on?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. Don't worry. Just forget I called and don't come by my place for say-um-five-days? Weeks? Years? I-no don't touch that. My fucking toaster."

Marnie waved him off. "Relax. I have spent quite a decent amount of my life studying the great beyond. I know what I am doing. Well that in the other half being a prositute for drugs but we don't talk about that."

"Hey Frank I just have a few things to wrap up here and then I'll be over as soon as I can."

Of course Michael was gonna make this feel like a fucking FF situation which it clealy wasn't/ 

"What? No that's really not....erm...shit...he's coming over."

Jane said "He's what? He can't do that! Do you want the universe to collapse?"

"Look. I fucking tried okay? I ain't the one fucking around with aliens and whatever else."

"Franklin you there?" Michael said on the other end of the line.

"Yeah man. Um look now is not really a good time."

"You called me?"

Really was starting to piss Franklin off.

"Yeah and just forget it."

"Yeah not gonna happen. Like I said I'll be over soon. Just sit tight."

ARUGH! THE ONE FUCKING TIME!

"No man. It's not-"

"Look. You're my friend. Like I said I'll be over soon."

SHIT SHIT SHIT

"No you really don't-"

"Its not up for discussion. Like I said I'll be there."

"Look man it is really something you don't want to get involved in. I was just calling to make sure you were okay."

"Yes? Everything is fine here. Are you okay?" 

There it was. The concern. The FF situation concern. Goddamn it. 

Well if Michael was gona get all up in his fucking business. 

"Yeah. Everything is fine here. Look um...before you go...I just have a quick question."

"Alright. Shoot."

"Well let's say...you know how we talked about the whole like making bad choices for the sake of the greater good and all."

"I guess."

"Well let's just say hypothetically...that hypothetically speaking...I had made plans to do something....that I never did...but what it was was bad. You won't...you won't be mad or anything? Because I didn't do it and ended up making the right choice? Right?"

"Franklin. What's going on? Are you sure everything is all right?"

"Yes."

"Yes as in 'yes I'm fine' or 'yes as in someone is listening and I can't talk now'? Cough twice if it's the second one."

"Yes as in I'm good and don't come over. Look. Just forget I called."

Franklin hung up the phone and saw everyone staring at him again. Jesus what was the universe trying to prove? 

Marnie sighed. "And he's gone."

"What"

"He's left this reality. I felt it."

"Damn it."

"And Jane...that's not even the worst part."

"Oh fuck. What now?"

"There are others...at his house...we need to get down there right now before the Epsilon clergy find out because..well you will know what will happen if they do."

"Oh great. Just fucking perfect. So what do we do with them? We can't just leave them here to walk around aimlessly tearing holes in the fabric of the universe as we know it!"

"We'll just have to take them with us. Their energeies are canelling each other out we should be fine. If I have done my math right that is."

The conversation was interrupted by the door slamming open and Lamar screaming to the entire San Andreas area "Hey Franklin man! It's time to fucking go! We were supposed to be going to be at Ponsonbys like half an hour ago to pick up suits for Tanisha's wedding...oh fuck. I didn't know you were using your crib for the most pathetic middle-aged alcoholics anonymous morning therapy session in Los Santos. Franklin, I knew things were bad but I didn't know it was this fucking depressing."

"Who the fuck is this?" Jane did not looked amused. 

Franklin sighed and felt the cringe-inducing embarrassment slipping up his spine. "This is Lamar. My brother from another mother."

"And you just give this guy the keys to your house!"

"Yeah..." Now Franklin felt even more stupid. 

"Aw geez, I should not have smoked before I came here. I'm fucking seeing the crazy dude and the creeper in like five different parts of the room right now."

Marnie shook her head. "No time for that now. We all need to get to Brother Zolag's house ASAP. Jane you take Brother Zolag B, Brother Zolag E and Trevor E, I'll take Trevor A, and Franklin you take Brother Zolag D, Trevor D, and Brother Zolag F and Trevor F as well as this unexpected friend of yours."

"Wait why do we have to bring Lamar?"

"Energy mixings and whatnot. He's been exposed. We need to keep an eye on him. Now come on everybody let's go." 

All the Michaels and Trevors began making their way to their designated drivers as Franklin lead them over to the death metal trap Lamar called a van. They opened the back doors to which Chop appeared and Michael F jumped back twelve feet. 

"Oh no fucking way. Uh-uh. I am not getting in there with a fucking dog in the back!"

Michael D and Trevor D rolled their eyes simaltaniously as they slid into the back. Franklin shook his head.

"Well too bad man. Unless you have a better idea."

Trevor F smacked Michael F hard on the back. "Yeah come on M. Stop being such a pussy."

"Frank what the fuck is going on?"

"Lamar I'll explain on the way now get your stupid ass in the van!"

"...and so yeah that's what's been going on in my fucked up life."

"Damn! How come none of this intresting stuff happens to me?"

"Lamar stop saying stupid shit!"

Lamar turned towards Michael F who was currently trying to seal himself to the wall of the van to get away from the dog while Trevor F was petting and mumbling to Chop seemingly not bothered by the circumstances at all. "So you two are fucking narcs?"

"Lamar the fuck did I just say!"

Franklin felt a gentle hand being placed on his shoulder. "Hey kid you seem a little stressed out. We can pull over and I can drive the rest of the way if you want-"

Frank flicked Michael D's hand off his shoudler. "No! No! No! It's fine! I'm fine! Don't fucking worry about it!"

"Dang Frank. No need to get all pissy! So do all Michaels and Franklins have an FF situation going on because it sure seems like it-"

"LAMAR!"

"An FF Situation? The fuck does that mean? Some kind of crimminal code?" Trevor F looked over to his opposite dopalgangers sitting adjacent to them. 

Trevor D shrugged. "I've never heard it before."

"Naw man. It's street talk. Means Fath-"

"What it means is not important to the task at hand right now."

"I hope we get another Franklin."

"Oh really and why is that?"

"Maybe the next one will learn to be more fucking chill and not stand up his best friend on the most boring shopping experience of ones life."

Chapter Text

?????, November 11th, 2013, ??????, Reality B:

"Brother Zolag. It's time to get up. The universe has permitted you with another day!"

Marnie. Fucking Marnie. Michael peeled open his eyes a bit to find blurred lights all around him. He sat up and saw the Atomic blimp pass right by them. It was quiet, peaceful and the irritable ringing in his ears had gone away. 

Wait a minute.

"AHHHHHH! FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!!!!! JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! OH GOD OH GOD!" 

"Brother Zolag calm down!"

"Shitshitshitshit...."

Michael clung to the railing of the skyscraper crane's railing as the city air blew through his hair. He felt like he was going to be sick. He fucking HATED heights. Marnie seemed to be aware of this as she was grinning down at him from the railing.

On the fucking railing like it was a park bench or some shit.

He reached up and pulled her down with him onto the catwalk.

"Get down from there. It's not safe."

She just laughed at him and shook her head. "You really just don't get it, do you Brother Zolag?

"Would you please stop calling me that? And get what?"

She stood up and forced Michael to stand up as well by dragging him to his feet. He clung to the upper part of the railing and his other hand rested on Marnie's shoulder so she won't try anything stupid. Like sitting on top of the railing again. He looked over and saw her gently overlooking the city her face illuminated by the harsh red light of the light warning any pilots stupid enough to be flying this low of the monstrous presence of the skyscraper crane. She kind of looked like an older version of Tracey and there was a disturbing innocence about her but at the same time a deep sad darkness lurking in the soul of her eyes. It was weird to describe but something Michael knew too well. 

He remembered this place. He had come here to meet with Molly and that prick Devin Weston for their first mission together. The Alta Construction zone building the Mile High Club in what was expected to be the largest skyscraper in San Andreas which was about to be polluted by the greedy money laundering assholes of tomorrow. Thank the fucking circumstances that Michael hadn't gotten swept up in all that. 

"Life is such a painful existence. Every time I do something right it seems as though it just comes back to smack me in the face." The way she said it was so small, so soft, so unearthly depressing like that baby seal backed into an icy corner of an igloo that was about to be clubbed to death. A situation he had felt many times himself before. As though all his mistakes were just a hole getting deeper and deeper for himself and one in which he thought he could run away from but instead was only digging deeper into. Things had to get worse before he started making better choices. 

The difference here was is that he was not looking out for himself and his own actions and he was not watching a poorly edited nature documentary being narrated by a guy who needed to take a cough drop but a kid who was a victim of bullshit. He patted her shoulder awkwardly secretly hoping it came across as a comfort in the storm. He wasn't really sure what to say at this point. All that therapy and his brain still felt like alphabet soup when it came to putting words to his mouth.  To be fair he wasn't exactly a suicide prevention counselor. 

"Erm...look...I know the whole universal crime and punishment law of physics thing seems to be...overbearing at times...but...I mean could we at least get down from heights? I was told having suicidal people near heights was a trigger or something. Maybe get like drinks or something."

Marnie turned to Michael puzzled. "Uh...what?"

"You know that's why you brought me here. You wanted to kill yourself." No wait. You weren't supposed to say that. "No I meant you want the pain to stop but you don't necessarily want to doe or-"

Marnie started laughing soft little bell sounds. Her blue eyes crinkled like folds on a paper airplane and she tipped her head back and clasped her abdomen as the laughing increased. Michael laughed awkwardly. 

Laughter is supposed to be the best medicine or something like that...right?

"Oh no no no silly. We are astral traveling."

"Astral traveling?"

"It's where your spirit is able to leave its physical form but your body is still fully intact. More or less."

"You see I'm more concerned about the less part."

Marnie's smile faltered and she moved her hands as though wading through water out in front of her. "We are here but yet neither one of us is here."

"What?" This mumble-jumble prophecy astrology shit was getting old really fast.

"You don't have a lot of time Brother Zolag. We will speak later of these things but for now you must focus on the task at hand."

"Task? The fuck are you talking about?"

"In three minutes you are going to wake up in Crate Warehouse G. There you will find the first step in your list of tasks. Or rather the first person who you will be involving tasks with."

"What are you talking about?"

"Your surragotate son of course."

"Franklin? Why? What the fuck did you-"

"I didn't do anything. But yes. Franklin will be there. More or less."

There was something within Michael that twisted itself when she said that. He didn't like this. Not one bit. 

"If you did something to him-"

Marnie held up her hands. "I didn't do anything to the ex-gangster heathen. If you want to be mad at anyone be mad at the FIB and the Children of the Moutain."

"Wait the FIB? I thought-"

"Okay please don't mad..." 

She practically shrank as Michael glared her down. "You know Marnie most people who start a sentence like that get the exact opposite reaction."

She wiggled out of his ever-persistent grasp on her shoulder and started backing up as he moved towards her crowding her out on the catwalk. 

Yeah, I can be scary when I want to be. Wait a minute. That's fucking stupid. I really need to stop hanging out with Trevor so much. 

"Do you remember that Russian scandal a few years back. Where the guy used an umbrella tip coated with a toxin to prick a whistleblower in his thigh causing him to die a horrendous and painful death before he was able to testify before congress."

Michael did remember seeing something about that and when Trevor found him he remembered it being one of the ways Trevor could have possibly taken him out should he choose to be less than cooperative with the current FIB blackmail situation or if he found out Brad was buried six feet below. Then he remembered that Trevor wasn't that patient or that smart to come up with that creative of a way to kill him. By the time all the secrets came into the light Michael had already accepted his fate and was even more surprised when Trevor didn't follow through on his much-threatened promise. Michael realized most were empty at the time and now felt kind of stupid that he didn't catch on that all of them were empty sooner. Well at least the ones that involved Trevor doing the killing himself...Michael still got fucking pissed whenever he was reminded of how he almost became lunch meat for a bunch of Triad motherfuckers. Their fucking loss though. Michael's muscles were mostly lard at this point so it would have been the equivalent of snacking on the chunky part of a steak. Okay, he really needed to stop pressing Trevor about cannibal shit. The more you know the less you wanted to. 

"Yeah, I heard something about that on Weasel News back in '08. But what the fuck has that got to do with me?"

"Do remember what kind of toxin they used?"

"How the fuck am I supposed to have remembered something like that?"

Marnie grinned childishly at him. "Well, you weren't supposed to remember Brother Zolag because it was classified. Or at least it was until the IAA put it out on the bioterrorist awareness pamphlets."

"Yeah because we both know how much I love reading g-men pamphlets on how the fuck Russian, Iran, or fucking Miranda Cowen when she finally flips her shit is going to kill us all. But what the fuck has this got to do with me? Seriously I thought we had a time limit here."

"Time moves slower for us in this form."

"Okay? And?"

"It was digitals and strophanthin. A common agent used as it doesn't cause vomiting or intestinal bleeding which helps obscure the investigations further. There are more updated versions now as the FIB found reactants that can cleanse the effects of the toxins but nonetheless it is still a very useful toxin for sedating people into powerful hallucinations. It is also very easy to coat say the envelope of a letter."

"The envelope of a-oh fuck." 

The Children of the Mountain letter. From this morning.

"YOU FUCKING DRUGGED ME! WHAT IF MY DAUGHTER HAD TOUCHED THAT SHIT!"

"A sacrifice the Epilson and the Children of the Mountain were evidently willing to make."

"BUT-"

"There is no time for that now. The antidote will be being pressed into your heart by an agent in one minute. I need you to listen very closely. Franklin will be sitting across from you tied and gagged to a chair. You will be too but because you were out the agent didn't bother tying you tightly to the chair as much as she did Franklin so it should be relatively easy to free yourself. Franklin will be more difficult but you are a professional theft so I am sure you will manage. There is a loose vent over by a box of fragile items by the garage door with the rusted over spring locks. This vent if you follow it straight out will take you out the dumpsters and the filtration for the air conditioning system. It is also where the parking lot happens to be. In the fifth spot there is a Bohdi parked with the keys in it. It should be able to start easily. There is an apartment complex nearby that you can dump the car at. Two blocks down is a Dynasty 8 apartment complex. You want to go into Maple A. Ground floor room 103 B. There should be some first aid supplies and food in there. Make sure you drink plenty of water. You are dehydrated enough as it is."

"Look at you becoming the little criminal."

"Just focus, please! Kifflom Brother Zolag. And may Cris grant you the best of luck on your adventures!"

Michael felt as though he was emerging from the surface of the water as a piercing needle stabbed into his chest. The city of Los Santos from a bird's eye view faded into the bleak orange of the storage garage. His throat felt as though there were thousands of spikey balls climbing to the surface and his entire body was racked with horrific nerve ending pain. He took in greedy gasps of air and even then it felt like it wasn't enough. Then the setting became clearer as the anti-toxin worked within Michael's system and started to fix his eyesight. The first thing he saw was Franklin tied to a chair with his head limp and a body full of bruises. His shirt was off.

"Gooooood Morning Mister De Santa! Though perhaps I should be welcoming you back to the world of the living first! I must say that is a much bigger accomplishment!"

The syringe in Michael's chest was ripped out and Michael felt the sting there. But it wasn't too bad. If he had a quarter for every bullet, sharp handle, and blunt object his skin had come into contact with over the years...

"So Mr. Townley what shall it be for today? You have crucial information I want and I am sure you don't want to spend the rest of your life in here so how about we work with each other?"

The FIB agent that stood before Michael and was readjusting the heart monitor on his chest was a female. He recognized those dragon tattoos on her arms. She wasn't an FIB agent at all. It was...

"Paige."

But that voice wasn't coming from her. He recognized that one. It was-

Steve Haines emerged from the shadows into the orange miscolored light like a zombie out of a horror film or some cheap villain reveal in those crappy action movies Jimmy liked though Michael couldn't say that description was far off from how he would describe Steve. But he was supposed to be dead. Trevor said he-Oh fuck.

Trusting Trevor with something this important.

Stupid stupid stupid.

Didn't Norton get the show after Haines mysteriously died?

What the fuck was-

"What's the matter, Townley? You look like you've seen a ghost? Then again I could say the same about my current predicament."

It hurt when Michael tried to speak but he was too pissed off to not. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Let's skip past the pleasantries Michael and get down to business. How did you do it?" Steve got way too close for comfort as he said it. Michael could smell the rotating garlic in his breath but he refrained from wincing. He didn't need to give this prick the satisfaction of any sort of physical repulsion.

"Hey, Steve you might want to take a breath mint. I can make out what you ate for lunch and dinner and I can even tell what brand of rubber condom your transvestite partner used when you blew him last night. But hey at least you're using protection. Won't want Los Santos's most useless agent out of commission for the next few weeks because his dick fell off."

He heard more than felt the punch to the jaw and watched blood spatter onto the pavement.

"Always with the little quips. I never really cared for your sense of humor Townley."

Michael spat the blood out of his mouth and aimed for Steve's precious shoes as he did so. "I can tell."

Steve then reached for Michael's hair and pulled him up so his face was fully facing the light. Michael sent Steve a shit-eating grin that became much more clearer.

Steve scowled. "When those fucking scumbags from the dessert first brought you in I was skeptical but now that we are getting a face to face encounter I must say that it really is you. I mean it all makes sense. Your precious family and Trevor Phillips go missing on the same day which just so happens to be two days after your supposed death. It was too confidential to be by chance. So I am only going to ask this once. How did you do it? Who else are you working with? The Vagos? The bikers? The IAA? Start talking!"

"And I'll ask again what the fuck are you talking about? And on another note how the fuck are you still alive? I thought Trevor clipped your ass!"

Steve laughed at that. "Trevor? The meth head? Taking me out? That's cute Mikey. That's just so fucking cute. What an imagination you have." Gravity pulled Michael's chin back down once the grasp on his hair was released. He tasted blood and bile in his mouth and made a vow to throw Marnie off a building the next time he saw her. He heard a snapping noise and felt a sharp object go into his side and couldn't suppress a small grunt of agony as it went deeper and deeper into his flesh and he felt the blood from his veins pour down into his lap.

"How did you survive? Was the surveillance footage from the tower edited? Was it Lester who did it? Start talking Townley!"

"Ah! Fuck off, Haines!"

"Hmm. Still not ready to talk huh? Ms. Harris? Could you loosen our guest up? He seems a little tense."

The sharp object was twisted and Michael ground his teeth as the sharp edges twisted against the muscle tissue.

"We need some names, Michael. Start. Talking."

The sharp object was taken out and Michael loosened his stomach once it was gone breathing heavily.

"This isn't working. Maybe we should call a bus. Give him time to heal before we continue this process, sir."

A sir coming from Paige's mouth?

Paige was a gruff goth tomboy for sure and she had quite the mouth on her. Michael remembered how curt she was with him when they first got a crew together for the jewelry shop robbery and how off-putting her sarcastic and insulting remarks were. However over time and the other heists they pulled together he came to realize there was more than surface-level going on here and her being one of Lester's first associates and long time friends made their banter much less salty than it first appeared. But she wasn't a evil or cruel. Most people that rough around the edges never were. She was an uncaring dick at times but all uncaring dicks had once cared too much.

She was a freelance hacker with brains enough to put her into the highest ivy league school but self-esteem low enough to keep her away from it. A shame really. She could break into every home and shut down the security system of every house in Rockford Hills before the sun came up and there wasn't a bank in Los Santos that was safe when she was around. He could tell by the shakiness of her hands on the bloodied knife and the misplaced timid demeanor in her voice that this was not and would never be her scene. 

She wasn't here willingly. If she was, Haines would have gotten the better half of the lude and crude language thrown at him but it was all nervous energy. 

Or perhaps that was just the digitals in his system making him sweat a fucking gallon. He felt like the heat was going to make him lose consciousness again and his stomach rolled in agreement with that thought.  Fuck the Epsilon. Fuck the FIB. Fuck the stupid Russian spies who made this fucking shit. 

Ah God. He felt like he was going to be sick all over the floor.

Paige seemed to notice. "I think he needs to some more water. Look at him, sir. The sweat is getting all dried up and sticky on his skin. He's dehydrated."

Oh, Paige. I really really hope I don't have to put you down. You are way too young for this shit. You should've left with your cut. Gone to school. Worked for some high tech shitty millennial company. They would have fought tooth and nail to have someone as smart as you on their campus. Or better yet started your own. This isn't and never will be you. Why oh why did you not leave?

But he already knew the answer. Once in the crime life, it was very very hard to get out. Once that dopamine hit the veins from pulling a heist and getting away with it it was like a drug that all other luxuries in life seemed to fail in comparison. Michael got out because he found something he loved. Having a family and a third chance at life also helped too. Franklin was going to get out so help him. And Trevor was an arrogant asshole who was going to end up with a knife in his back in the desert somewhere or possibly chopped up and shoved into a blender when he pissed off the wrong person or fucked the wrong whore or whatever fucking else. Fucking prick never listened to a fucking word he had to fucking say. 

"I will never ever take my foot off the gas!"

Stupid fucking psychopathic shiteating asshole.

He heard Haines sigh heavily and could almost see him weighing the options in his sadistic brain before assuming allowing her to help. There was a phone ringing noise and he heard Haines walk off somewhere and begin barking condescending orders to the poor underpaid bastard on the other end.

Just like the good old days of dead accomplices and terroristic threats

She reached over onto the toolbox beside them to grab a water bottle and bent down in front of him screwing the cap off as she did. She then (with a surprising uncharacteristic gentleness) tipped his chin back and slowly parted his lips with her gloved fingers. He could feel the fabric softly static shocking the skin on his face. At least he wasn't that out of it.

He got a better look at her face as she moved closer to his and realized she was still wearing that gothic makeup but there were deep circles under her eyes and her cheeks were flushed in an unhealthy fashion. She looked exhausted and had been up for days. There were invasive cuts on her right cheek and bruises around her tan neck. She was of course avoiding eye contact and Michael couldn't really blame her. He had trouble looking Trevor in the eyes at times and that dude literally fucking ate people. If anything Michael overlooking that fact should be forgiveness enough but no. Fucking Trevor had to bring up the past over and over and over and-

Marnie was right. The zip ties on his hands and legs weren't tied tightly. But perhaps it wasn't because he was passed out and overlooked as a threat. Way too many unfortunate bastards had made that mistake. He liked to think Paige had a special place for an old crew member in that calloused heart of hers. Or maybe it was the fucking poison making him all soft. The anti-depressants he took did something similar and when Amanda practically threw him out of the bed when he woke her up from crying in his sleep he decided that was enough of those. He was just gonna have to feel sorry for himself for the rest of his life. It was a fair fate but nonetheless still cruel. 

Who was that fucker Franklin shot in the head? Peter Dreyfuss? Cut that actress to pieces and left clues all over the fucking place? The fucking amateur. 

And he got sidetracked. Again. If his father conscious showed up he was going to fucking lose it. 

A small trickle of water was being shoved down his throat which he embarrassingly enough spat up all over himself and Paige. 

"Sorry." He mumbled. 

"Fucking disgusting Michael." She said under her breath but there was a fondness there. 

Too fond. He didn't want Marnie's plan to go ary because Paige was getting too campy and Haines made the connection. He was a prideful prick but wasn't an idiot and would catch on soon enough.

She quickly began patting him down with a dirty rag to clean off the water much to his displeasure. Michael would rather have water all over his face than fucking car grease, sweat, and whatever else was on that fucking filthy rag. He could practically feel the bacteria oozing into his pores. 

He then felt something be shoved into this hand. Upon feeling with his fingers he realized it was a pair of plyers which he quickly flipped over and began working in zip tie on his wrist. Paige then moved the plyers sustainably over to his other hand and he undid the ones there. She then took the plyers and shoved them back into her pocket. 

The timing was everything. He was just going to have to fucking wait. Haines no doubt had a gun on him and he still had to get Franklin out of here and having Paige here just complicated things. She helped him so he was now obligated to help her. The fucking bitch probably knew that too. To be fair Michael wouldn't want to spend a moment longer in this place with Haines a second longer either. Just hearing him go on and on and calling someone a cunt idiot made Michael want to astral walk right to Hell. His voice was so fucking annoying. He could not believe Trevor took as long as he did to kill this fucker. 

Or evidently not. 

He then glanced over his shoulder as Paige bent down to cut the zip ties on his legs. Haines was too preoccupied with picking at a caution sticker on one of the crates in the back to notice to swift escape they were trying to make. He felt Paige slid the plyers into his lap. 

Good. He wanted this fucker to have the rug pulled out from under him. He thought he was so invincible with his little FIB badge and gun and authority. 

Haines walked over to them after hanging up the phone with a less than pleasant ending and Michael put his head down but not too far enough that he couldn't watch. 

Gun hostler. Left hip. Got em. 

In one swift motion Michael lunged for the gun while shoving Paige behind him and grabbed it out of the hostler. Before Steve could react Michael shot him in the kneecap. He wanted to kill this fucker but knew he couldn't yet. It won't be smart. Not until he was able to regroup with Trevor and Lester to figure out how to deal with this. He handed the gun to Paige who kept it on Haines as Michael slid on his knees to get in front of the unconscious Franklin. 

Michael glanced to see Haines still whiney on the floor like a bitch and Paige just a far enough distance away holding the gun with a shakey arm. 

Tick tock. 

Michael shook Franklin's shoulders gently. "Frank. It's Michael. What happened? Where are you hurt?"

He got no response other than some grumblings to which Michael began undoing the zip ties on his arms and felt up the arms, chest and torso for any broken bones. He didn't want to move him too much where it hurt. He had some deep bruises on his rib cage and Michael felt his muscles tense when he brushed his fingers there. He also had a black eye among other bruises on his face. Michael felt his legs and was relieved to find no broken bones there.  He started to undo the zip ties on his bare feet and immediately wished he hadn't looked down. 

Franklin's right foot was twisted 180 degrees and his toes were facing the back. He was so bruised there that Michael had to assume that someone had used a tool to do this rather than their bare hands. He avoided touching the area as he undid the zip tie. 

"This is gonna hurt buddy. I'm gonna try my best." Michael moved his arm to brace Franklin's legs and swung the rest of him over his shoulder. It was then he heard what Franklin was mumbling. 

"I didn't help. I don't know anything, please. I didn't help. I don't know anything, please. I didn't help. I don't know anything. Please."

Over and over and over again. 

The vent was first. 

No. Paige was first. 

Haines had passed out from blood loss on the floor but Paige still had the gun which Michael took. She glanced up at him with fear in her eyes. 

"Hit me. Hit me as hard as you can. It needs to look convincing you attacked me." 

"What? No, you're not staying here. You're coming with us." 

She looked down sheepishly at her shoes and fiddled with her glooves. "I can't."

"Why?" He tried to sound as authoritative as he could. It seemed to work as her shoulders shrunk in. 

"I just can't okay?"

Michael sighed. This was going to be more complicated than he thought. Stupid fucking-

"How did you get here Paige?"

"I-I was fucking around with some of the casino machines. We were planning on pulling a score there and there was a stick-up and I got caught."

"You resisted arrest and had to be put in a chokehold over codes to a slot machine?" 

"How did you-"

"The bruises on your neck. Plus you are never supposed to resist arrest. What if one of the officers had shot you? So I'll ask you again what happened? And don't lie to me. I can tell when people are lying to me, Paige."

She didn't say anything and just chewed her bottom lip while looking at the ground. Presuming contemplating the consequences. And taking her fucking sweet time about it that they didn't have. He grabbed her shoulder and shifted Franklin who was becoming heavy on his back and began pulling her with them to the vent. 

She wiggled out of his grasp and said once again with more emphasis this time. "I can't come."

"I don't have time for this shit! Just tell me or I swear to God-"

"It wasn't the police." It was said quietly. So quietly Michael almost didn't hear her.

"What?"

"It was the Epsilon."

Okay, now Michael was fucking confused. Well more confused than before. "The Epsilon? What are you-"

He stopped when he realized Paige was putting a hand over her mouth and her body was shaking. 

She...was crying. 

Michael wasn't exactly that great at...comforting others. He awkwardly patted her shoulder. 

"Uh...hey. Don't cry."

"They took Conner."

"Who is Conner?"

"MY SON YOU ASSHOLE!" 

In a moment of panic, Michael made a stupid choice.

He made a promise. 

Stupid stupid stu-

"Hey! That's alright. I actually have a friend in the Epsilon. A mother sister type. I can get your kid back but only if you come with us.I promise."

It didn't fully register in Michael's head that the goth hacker who loved hard metal bands and had a dragon and the Virgin Mary on her both arms simultaneously could be a mom until he was shoving her head below the dash of the stolen car to avoid the hail of bullets flying into the car. But then again no one except Trevor knew he had a family either until way later. Franklin was secure in the backseat on his back with his head tilted slightly to the side with his arm resting on his chin so he won't choke on his own blood. 

Didn't know one of your own crew members had a child? Really? And just when my opinion of you could sink no lower. Michael...you poor stupid douchebag...

Shut up! Just shut the fuck up dad! 

They ditched the car and ran off to where Marnie had told Michael to go. The door was unlocked and as they ran through the hallway they got  few strange looks as almost everyone at this Godforsaken hour all the disgusting college students infected the place like fruit flies were already ten drinks tipsy into their next morning mistakes.

So Marnie's idea of a peaceful getaway was basically a frat house. Good to fucking know. 

He was trying to get clean and having all this temptation was not helping. 

God, he was itching for a cigarette right about now.

Go ahead. Have one fatass. We both know you are going to break this whole 10 step program in a few days anyway. You always do.

Shut up! Shut up! 

Alright tough guy. Then how do you plan to solve this little dilemma of yours? After all, we don't want to let down any more of our friends now do we?

Marnie is going to come. And when she does I'll explain the situation. We go get Conner. Paige goes back home. I get Franklin home. I go home. End of story. 

Fucking annoying-

The room was modest. A fresh stocked kitchen along with an ugly fruit basket to complete the scene packed neatly on the counter. Upon closer inspection, there was a small blue card sitting properly in front of the mashed colors of assorted fruits. There was the Epsilon cursive E in on the front in big gold print. The counter beside it had an assortment of medical supplies and a green first aid kit that eerily resembled the two he had at home. 

Michael swiped the kit and took Franklin to the first bedroom that looked like it was trying way too hard to look like a nautical paradise when in reality it came across as cheap and retro designer. Plus that oil painting of a mermaid collecting trash at the bottom of the ocean was looking at the both of them with a judgment glint in her eyes. 

Michael began using the disinfectant wipes to start wiping the dried blood off of Franklin. He then began patches up the bruises and dealt with the foot. He was careful as he could. He placed his palm beneath the heel and twisted the bones upward. He then put a splint to straighten the ankle and wrapped the gauze and bandages firmly to make sure the splint stayed in place. He put finger splints in the two broken index fingers and the broken ring finger. 

Franklin had a temperature so he used some wet cloths to put around his face and arms being very careful not to press too hard down on the bruised areas. 

After that, he patted Franklin's shoulder, felt his neck to make sure the pulse was still there, and walked out to see Paige pacing nervously back and forth. She glanced over at him. 

"How's the kid?"

Michael shrugged and glanced back at the room where Franklin was. "Still out cold. What the fuck did you do to him?"

"I didn't do anything really. Just twisted the ankle and broke a few fingers. Black eye. The usual."

Michael felt the heat boiling in him as she said that especially when she said it like it was nothing. Reminded him way too much of fucking Trevor. He was about to respond when something behind the fruit basket caught his eye.

He walked over and saw his clothes the border patrol had taken along with his wedding ring and watch. He fished into his pants and saw his wallet was still there as well all the cash, his id, and picture of his family. He sighed in relief to see the plane tickets to Europe were still there. Even better THE pocket journal was still neatly tucked away in the front pocket of his suit with a hotel pen neatly tucked in the front page. Upon flipping through none of the pages were missing. Nothing was gone and his clothes looked like they had been freshly cleaned and pressed. On top of the bundle was a baby blue post-it note with "Yours?" written in sharpie with a small smiley face next to a printed Epsilon cursive E. 

So now they had their own post-it notes? Real fucking classy. 

"You should probably take care of that?"

Michael glanced up and saw Paige had come into the kitchen and was leaning against the adjacent countertop looking at him.

"Take care of what?" He then looked down to see he was still bleeding from where Paige had stabbed him. "Oh, that."

Paige rolled her eyes as she grabbed some gauze and stitches from the counter. "Oh, that?"  She mimicked his voice as she said it. "Fucking men. We are trying to get my fucking son back in case you forgot so it won't kill you to take care of your sorry excuse for a meat vessel old man."

She got down on her knees and began pressing the disinfectant wipe into the torn flesh which sparked a ripple of pain up his spine causing him to hiss through his teeth. 

"Oh what you gonna cry like a little bitch now?"

"You know Paige I was thinking about how much I missed running around Los Santos with y'all causing chaos and taking from the rich snobs but now I am starting to get why I never liked you."

Paige snorted as she put the needle in. "Yeah okay, asshole. But when you call me up cause your wife doesn't know how to download anti-virus software and gets another nasty bug I'm gonna slip a trojan horse in there as well. I hope you like zombies because every time you try to click back on a page a fucking cartoon zombie is going to dance on your screen."

"Sounds fun."

"Not when you are trying to file your taxes and forgot to put your SSN correctly and have to go back it won't be."

"Weirdly specific but alright."

"Yeah well let's just keep this between us two but it takes Conner's dad hasn't been able to properly use his computer since he stole from us and ran. Figured he outta take a little piece of me with him. Think of it as a cruel parting gift."

That made the anger and resentment fade from Michael. "So Conner...doesn't have a dad?"

Paige shot up an angry look. "Why? Don't think I'm capable of raising a kid on my own?"

"No. I'm just saying it must be difficult having to do everything by yourself." The softness in his voice only seemed to light an anger within her. 

"Shut the fuck up Michael! I'm glad you're not actually dead, don't get me wrong, but you are fucking around with things you know nothing about!"

Michael was always fascinated with dolphins. Between the old movies that would play on the channels late at night, he was also fascinated by the various nature documentaries of lions tearing antelopes piece by piece and friendly orcas saving sailors from the merciless waves of deadly hurricanes. The bright colors and soothing British narrators were always a sort of comfort to him in times of extreme violence and yelling and alcohol. 

But he remembered the dolphins being the ones who were the most lovely out of all the deep-sea creatures. He would even watch them on those God awful film reels of Frank Mathers who completely decimated the serenity of the gorgeous gentle giants of the deep with his terrible camera angles and grating voice that made a drunken singer sound like the voice of an angel just to get a glimpse of the dappled creatures. Dolphin pods were like a giant family he never had and he would often have dreams of swimming out to sea to join one of his own. It was a silly thought but it was comforting none the less. 

There was a time when he was eight his father had beat him into unconsciousness and he woke up sticking to the floor tiles and unbearable aching in all his limbs and especially his back. He laid there praying to God to make him a dolphin so he could swim out to the sea far far away. He dreamed of Los Santos shores, corals made of rainbows, and a place where the people never slept as lay on that bathroom floor waiting for his fate to arrive. 

Two years later Michael would come to find his father absent from the chair he used to haunt with a ghostly presence and the trailer in a ghastly sight of broken glass, torn carpets, things thrown every which way as though someone had been shoving items into a box and leaving in a rush during an air raid. He heard screams of agony coming from the bathroom. He remembered lowering his backpack and walking to the door seeing his mother with hair in disarray with blood and vomit covering the lack of robing she had left on her skinny frame. Large bills of saliva, fruitless tears, and hoards of mucus poured out on the blood-stained tiles as her body was wracked with sobs. She was in a large circle of empty pill bottles keeping her there like a cage as she rocked back and forth like a demon possed doll whispering to the air "He left me, he left me, he left me..."

He tried to help her. He tried to ask what happened but he just kept pushing him off. He went to look for his dad but found no one and assumed he must have gone out to get drinks with his less than ideal friends. Lenny in particular was the biggest snake of them all and had grown more than attached to Michael who was "so mature for his age." Trust no one espeically those who give you false compliments. Snakes in the grass waiting to prey on mice.

He came back to his distraught mother who was in the same position and made the fatal mistake of asking where dad had gone off too. He remembered her manically grabbing his arm so tight there would be small bruises there for days to come and pulling him close and practically screaming in his face "He's gone! He left me! Because of you you little ungrateful shit!" She started smacking him around and scratched his eye at one point. He got free and ran to his room and hide in the closet pulling a filthy blanket over his head that hadn't been washed in months and shook in fear. 

His father always found him. No matter where he was. 

Lenny always found him. Jerry always found him. His mother always found him. 

It was no use. 

He closed his eyes and imagined being on a beach and watching colorful kites fly high above his head. He imagined the warm sea air and the sun on his skin. He could practically hear the waves in his ears and the dolphins chirping in the distance. 

Dolphins rule. People suck.

Eventually he heard someone enter the room. "Michael honey...are you here?" 

He didn't respond and covered his mouth silently begging God not to let her in. She gave up after a while murmuring profanities as she stalked out of the trailer to go look for him in the woods.

She won't find him beneath the blanket until three hours later. He felt the blanket rip off of him and the chill settles around him shoulders. She pulled him close and tucked him into bed. It was one of the only times she ever was this kind. Later whenever he asked his father was apparently going off to fight in the war in the navy. The story would later change but anything was better than "he left and it's your fault."

"Alrighty looks like you're all patched up. Try not to lean too much on that hip. I know how much you like to fuck up everything." 

Michael snapped out of his memory and narrowed his eyes at Paige. "Jesus Christ, can you fucking chill? Literally just saved your ass two hours ago, now I'm helping you get your son back, not to mention overlooking the fact that you almost broke every finger on Franklin's hands and all you want to do is insult me and bitch and moan!"

Paige just rolled her eyes and went to sit over on the couch propping her feet up on the oak coffee table with all the grace of a bull in a china shop. "It wasn't every finger. It was three. The other seven work just fucking fine."

Michael stared her down with the look that made a cop piss himself one time but Paige was too busy skimming one of the travel mags she found on the table with the Vinewood sign boldly on the front cover. "Yeah, you better hope they heal in a timely manner or-"

"Or you'll what? Kill me? Go right a-fucking head. See if I give a shit." 

"You see that's the kind of attitude that's going to get you fucking killed one day."

Paige rolled her eyes without looking up. "Well if old delicate bitches get offended by me calling out their bullshit then that's their fucking problem."

Michael exhaled in frustration at that. "You see that's the kind of fucking attitude that's going to get you killed when you fuck over the wrong person one day or when you get arrested because you couldn't keep a lid on it with the police then whose gonna take care of your kid? Or you end up driving your kid away? Do you really want that?"

Paige lowered the magazine to glare at him. "Why the hell are you so fixated on my kid?"

 "Because I care about you and I have been in your shoes. You seem like a nice girl and I really don't want you to end up making the same mistakes as me."

He picked up the card in front of the fruit basket and opened it to find Marnie's handwriting in there:

Kifflom Brother Zolag,

The Epsilon has found you worthy of a second chance at achieving peace within the universe and is willing to overlook past anti-thesis behavior such as stealing from us. Cris encourages forgiveness. The literature is very clear about this. Please wait in this safe house for further instructions. 

Until then:

Don't talk to anybody

Don't bring anybody in the safe house (besides Franklin)

Don't try to contact your family, friends or associates

Don't go to your house

Don't draw attention to yourself

Kifflom.

-Shupar Queen of the Winds

P.S DON'T TRY TO LEAVE LOS SANTOS UNLESS YOU WANT TO DISSOLVE INTO MOLECULE PARTICLES!!!

I don't care what she fucking says. I am not calling her that stupid name. 

"So...you and Franklin? You're not mad or was he like in on the whole thing or-I mean you know like-"

Michael turned around to see Paige standing behind him. "What the fuck are you talking?"

"I mean...the whole  Palmer-Taylor Power Station incident? You seemed...I mean the footage looked pretty fucking brutal. And I mean getting betrayed by Frank like that was...I mean even I felt kind of bad for you."

What the fuck is she talking about?  Palmer-Taylor Power Station? I've only been there like once although it would be a good place to shoot a movie. Some kind of badass final fight scene with explosions. Lots and lots of explosions. Where the fuck is my pen? I need to write that shit down. 

He started writing down  Palmer-Taylor Power Station for that one script he had looked into when Paige cleared her throat. "The fuck are you doing?"

Michael looked up as a smile as wide as the sun spread across his face as the adrenaline kicked in sending him straight to movie maker mode.  Anytime he got to talk about his sudden career change was a blessing for him. "Weeeeelll since you asked I have made a slight change in careers and am finally doing something that I love. Working for Solomon Richards as an associate producer."

Paige tilted her head. "I mean I'm not really sure that's possible now."

"I know right! Sometimes I can't believe it sometimes either! Hey by the way you're Catholic right? What do you know about the Council of Trent? I was meaning to look into it but then Tracey was applying for college and you know how that goes-Oh shit! I need to call Amanda and tell her not to touch the trash bin for the next five weeks unless she wants an inside look at what it's like to shit on the Russian KGB. She's probably freaking out that I'm gone too. What day of the week is it again?"

"It's Monday."

"Monday? Jesus Christ, I was out for a long time. Remind me never to paint the Russians in a good light in any film I help produce ever. I'm thinking to have that one script about the evil frog in the Alice in Wonderland story somehow be tied to that." He patted down his pockets for his cell before remembering he had dropped it when the whole poisoning took place. His mind still felt like a rotary chicken on steroids flaying around in his brain.

He walked over to the phone near the television set to type in Amanda's cell and placed it up to his ear. As the dial tone started ringing he ran through a list of excuses that won't involve cults or the FIB. 

"Hello? Who is this?"

"Hey, Amanda. It's me. I know I know. I should have told you where I was going and I didn't mean to leave for so long but something came up at work with that movie. You know the one about the talking dog who flies around the world?"

There wasn't a response.

"That's okay. I'll show you the storyboards for that later. Anyways I won't be back tonight. I have an old friend here who needs my help. Don't worry nothing illegal. I was thinking though for tomorrow we could go to that one restaurant that they were building in Vespucci Beach. You know the one with the purple crab for a logo? Heard the crab cakes there are to die for.  Or if you're in the mood for more Italian we could always go to Al Dente. I know how much you love the wine there. I really am open for anything. I have a surprise for you that I am sure you are going to love. And then we could-"

"Do you think this is funny? Is this how you get your sick kicks?"

Michael's heart dropped a bit at that. Yup. She was pissed. Well, she won't be when she found out where they would be spending the next two months. And plus flowers made everything better so-

"I know. I'm sorry but we'll talk about later okay? Right now I have to-"

"You're all the same! You're all the damn same! Calling up widows pretending to be their dead husbands? The fuck is wrong with you? Do you have any idea what I have been through in the past few weeks? What my family has gone through? You think you're so smart and clever but inside you're just an asshole! An asshole you hear! I HOPE YOU ROT IN HELL!"

"Amanda I-"

"No! Shut up! Don't call this number again!" 

The dial tone sounded like a death sentence and Michael put the phone down. "Well, that was a thing." He muttered under his breath. He went to change his clothes and opened the door while slipping on his jacket. 

"Where are you going?" 

"Amanda's pissed. Gotta go see her to make sure-"

"But my kid!" 

"Yeah I know I know. I'll be right back I promise. Just watch Franklin for me. He's got a bit of a temperature so just monitor that. I put the thermometer in the sink."

Paige threw up her hands defensively. "I'm not a fucking nurse!"

"What was that? I can't hear you over that pity dick in your mouth!" Michael slammed the door before Paige could reply and proceeded to wade his way through a sea of drunk frat assholes and their barley clothed matching set girlfriends.

Thank God he did not get that football scholarship otherwise he would get to be in it with these assholes. He perfered drinking himself to an early grave in the privacy of his home and living with the only judgemental eyes being that of his wife and his kids. 

Jesus Christ he was-eh...he'd focus on parental guilt later. Once outside he hailed a taxi to take him up to Rockford Hills. Much to his displeasure, the driver, Moksha, was a lot more chatter than previous bitter drivers he had had. Michael ground his teeth and nodded every few minutes to prevent getting himself into more trouble as Moksha rattled on and on about some new celebrity documentary and a fabricted faux story about a  tsunami he barely escaped from as the radio quietly played the evening Weazel News voice of Mike Whitley and Jenny Acorn in the background. Michael passed the time by counting the number of lights on every block they passed while coming up with some good excuse he was going to give his wife that won't elude to cheating but at the same time won't let her in on what was going on with Franklin. After all, Franklin was the only friend of his Amanda was actually fond of. 

"And then I was telling my good buddy Saul that he just had to get down here to see all the damage. I am telling you my fucking arm almost got ripped off in that fucking undercurrent man. Fucking blazing hellfire! It was nuts!"

Michael sighed and could not believe it was taking so long to get to the damn house. Should've just stolen someone's damn car. But then again that would come with the risk of painting a new target on his back and one he did not have the mental energy or time to deal with. His attention turned to the bland radio show when Whitley brought up the warehouse Michael had just escaped from. 

"And now we learn a lesson about why basic first aid is always an important know-how."

"That's right Jenny. Tonight we lost an American hero tonight. Steve Haines."

"That's right Mike. Steve Haines, decorated FIB agent and host of the popular TV show "The Underbelly Of Paradise" unwittingly helped expose that underbelly further yesterday as he was assassinated while bravely checking a reported gas leak at a local storage facility. Witnesses say he was attacked by a group of thugs, shot in the leg and left for dead on the cold floor where he agonizingly bleed to his untimely death. Agent Haines, who had twice recently been injured in the line of duty, had been an agent for nearly 20 years and a TV host for five. FIB spokesman Gary Lane told the Los Santos Meteor "Agent Haines died a hero, doing what he loved, which was presenting a TV show. He really helped combine the chaos of anti-terrorism and the mindlessness of network television into one highly successful career." Mr. Haines, who was not married, lived with his mother. I believe we have a brief audio clip. Karl if you please."

Michael bite his tongue to hold back a laugh at the irony of the entire situation as the audio clip of Haines frisking Ballas played through the speakers and was almost drowned out as Moksha felt the need to bring up a rather boring and winding tale of how he lost his last girlfriend after taking an ill-timed nap and arriving at a party four hours late. 

Michael sighed in relief when the golden gates to his sacred space finally came into view.

He sucked that breath back in as soon as a For Sale sign came into view.

No no no no not again.

"So is this the place amigo? Killer pad dude but I gotta admit this was kind of out of my driving range so I will need some extra cha ching to cover the gas. You know how it is. Help a brother out." 

Michael blindly handed him some extra cash shutting him up before walking through the fence and up to the front door in a daze. 

What the fuck is happening? The fuck did I do this time? I thought we were on good terms. I thought-

The front doors were unlocked as per fucking usual.

Damn kids. How many times do I have to remind them to lock this? Anyone can just fucking waltz in here and take what they want.

Almost everything was almost exactly the same yet the whole house looked cleaner somehow. Except for the floors which were stained with footprints of those who had no doubt come for the house showing that was printed neatly out on the sign out front. Why the fuck did he remember that? Who fucking cared? 

The house was clean but empty. The pictures had been taken down from the walls in Tracey's room and her clothes had all been taken out from the closet, Jimmy's bong and games were missing from the normal placement and Amanda and his room were missing almost all her clothes. Worst part was his stuff was still neatly packed in the closet. Even his shampoos and soaps were in the bathroom still. He took the chance to change into clothes that didn't smell like a gas station bathroom and take a good long shower.

He sighed as the water hit his face and once again began playing the past few days in the back of his mind. What he had done, what he had said, what had happened but nothing he could remember would have warranted his wife dumping him the dessert after having a reaction to fucking digitals and strophanthin. And how did Marnie get his stuff back from the border patrol gang? And what was that whole astral walking thing? 

Or maybe that was all in his head? To be fair he hadn't really physically seen Marnie in person since that fucking disaster of final task Tom gave him and he never heard from her since the angry email and text message she sent once the Epsilon caught on to the fact Michael wasn't really just in it for the spiritual welfare benefits. So maybe he was worried about nothing. 

But the card, the safe house, Paige acting werid and having a kid he didn't know about and the Epsilon kidnapping said child, Franklin acting weird for the past few weeks, Haines still being alive (or not anymore thank God), his family just getting up and leaving and selling HIS house without trying to reach out to him? Something about this whole situation felt really wrong and he didn't like it one bit.

After getting dressed Michael headed downstairs for a good drink and a pen and paper to clear his head only to discover almost everything in the kitchen besides the huge appliances had been taken. There were boxes on the island and hordes of papers with lists of items and prices on them of the various things around the house. 

CRASH

Michael whirled around to see Eva standing behind him with a pile of plastic plates at her feet and her eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and terror. 

Well at least not everyone was gone.

Shit. He hadn't realized it was 6 am already. 

"Hey, Eva. Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. Let me help you with that." He stepped closer to help pick up the plates but Eva just jumped back and started screaming in Spanish.

"CARLOS! CARLOS! EL FANTASMA!!! EL FANTASMA!!! EL FANTASMA EN LA COCINA!!!!" 

What the fuck is going on?

Right on cue Carlos came stomping into the kitchen with a dirty garden hoe in his hand dripping mud all over the nice clean tiles. He looked more annoyed to see Michael than anything else and promptly walked up to Michael and flicked him on the forehead and also some of the dirt that was on his hands. 

"Ow. Carlos, what the fuck?" Michael was already walking on thin ice with this guy. Well, that is if he trusted psychics. He did somewhat but that was because he had some respect for the divine. There was no telling what was real or not anymore. Well he trusted her more to do with the fact she had been in Carlos's pants and wallet and pretty much knew about and wanted to do the same to Michael. He wasn't that stupid. 

"See he's not a ghost! Stop screaming! Some damn kid trying to play a prank and get you all wound up!" Carlos shook his head at Eva who was holding her clenched fists up to her mouth and sobbing with fear. He then turned to Michael. "I hope you've made peace with your God amigo because if you thought we were gonna be calling the police on your ass you should've given that more thought because someone way worse is going to be coming! The man from your nightmares-"

"Trevor Phillips?" Michael sighed deeply when Carlos's expression of confidence shrunk. Of fucking course that dick had something to do with this. 

"See I told you he is a ghost and he's here to exact vengeance upon us!" Eva was practically having a full-blown panic attack and Michael just rolled his eyes. 

"No no no. I am not a ghost. Not dead. Not coming here to kill you. Not a ghost."

Carlos crossed his arms across his chest and snorted sarcastically. "Whatever this is it is still a joke in poor taste."

Michael mimicked Carlos's stance. "You know what else is in poor taste? Fucking my wife! Yeah, you thought I didn't know about that huh? Well, guess what asshole? Ms. Tammy couldn't keep a fucking secret if her paycheck depends on it so I suggest you shut your fucking mouth about what is and isn't in poor taste before I come over there and shut it for you. Comprende?"

"Aye it really is you." The color drained from Carlos's face and his eyes widden like moons at the realization. "Oh Dios mío. Estamos jodidos."

"Just to be clear I no had part in that Mister De Santa." Eva held up her hands and backed behind the fear-stricken Carlos. 

Michael rubbed his hands over his face and clasped them together in front of his chest. "Look just forget it. It was in the past. Can someone please just tell me what is going on?"

Carlos and Eva exchanged a look of confusion before turning around to walk into the living room and began whispering in hushed Spanish. Michael searched the boxes as the two of them argued for his precious alcohol collection but turned up nothing. Just his fucking juicer.  

Well it was nice Amanda cared so little about him she didn't even try to leave a note like last time. What the hell did he do this time to piss her off so much? Did digitals really have the ability to make him forget entire sections of time like alcohol did? He just couldn't remember. He tried and tried- 

Then there was a pain in his lower abdomen that felt like a knife had cut straight through his stomach and punctured his inners. He clung to his stomach and grunted. The kitchen began to spin and he saw Eva and Carlos run over to his side with concern. He was then being dragged over to the couch and fussed over. He raised the arm that was clinging to the stomach and flinched when there was blood there. His white shirt looked like someone had sprayed paint on his stomach. He lifted his shirt to find the pasty flesh cut with three tiger claw-like scratches.

Eva was already in the kitchen grabbing a first aid kit while Carlos used a clean handkerchief from the back of his pocket to hold the cuts. They were saying things to him but he couldn't really process what it was. It felt like he was underwater and the voices sounded like bubbles. Everything was wonky.

And then within a snap of time, it was over. The cuts sealed themselves but left three hideous scars and the room became whole once again.

And Eva and Carlos were staring at Michael like he had grown tentacles out of his ass. He sighed and rubbed his head. Minor tension headaches. Kind of like the back end of a hangover. 

Okay. These people were the closest to your family's normal day to day life. They were packing up your family's shit and were obviously taking it somewhere. Your stuff is still here so this obviously means they are leaving you. But why?

Well Michael it could be for any number of reasons. One of your past crimes came out into the public. Remember how Jimmy freaked out about how you shot those people on the yacht he stole to steal or how you lost your cool with Tracey five nights ago when she pranked you to eating wasabi instead of that gluten-free ice cream and filmed it for Bleeter or perhaps Trevor said something. I mean you did screw him over and tried to have him killed on multiple occasions and your kids oh do so love him. Or maybe it had something to do with why Haines had you, Paige and Franklin in a warehouse. Let's just say your hands are not the cleanest and I'm honestly surprised they hadn't left you sooner. 

"Mister De Santa? Are you alright?" Eva shined a flashlight in his eyes and then went to get him a clean shirt from upstairs that would match his suit. 

"Carlos I need you to tell me what happened. Where is my family? Why are they selling the house? Why is Amanda leaving me? What did I do?"

Carlos's eyes furrowed into a sympathetic look that one would give a lost child at the grocery store or explaining the concept of death to a three-year-old. "Um...I am not too familiar with the whole ghost thing. I didn't really believe in ghosts up to this point but now I need to make a call to my Abuela and apologize for some politically incorrect terms I called her at my sister's wedding. You know what you white people say. Never bring up politics, religion, or sexual positions at the family dinner table."

"Okay I am not a ghost."

"So can you like go through walls and stuff? I mean you are like way more solid than I thought a ghost would be. If they were real which I guess they are. And also can you like move shit around with your mind because that would really help me with my business. Some of the power tools for cutting the shrubs is hard on my back. You know how it is."

"No I don't because I am not a ghost."

"So all ghosts back in Venezuela were drawn in skeletons. You know the La Catrina?"

"No I don't because I am not a ghost or a cultural studies professor! Now could you please tell me what the fuck is happening?"

"So you're not dead?"

"No!"

"So you faked your own death?"

"No. Never. Why would I do that? What a stupid fucking question!"

"So where have you been for the past two months?"

"What are you talking about? I literally saw you last Tuesday when you came to blow the leaves out of our driveway and handle that hornet's nest near the tennis court? I gave you some spiked lemonade and told you what a good job you were doing?"

"Or you thought it was last Tuesday. My Abuela says that earthly time has no meaning in the land of the dead."

"I'm not dead!"

Carlos sighed and patted Michael's shoulder condescendingly. "Look, son. I know this is hard to accept but you are no longer a part of the cast of the living. You a ghost. The sooner you come to accept that the better it will be. Maybe you should see a ghost therapist. Are there therapists in the land of the dead?"

Patience Michael patience. Norton cleared your record. You're a free man more or less. If you get caught beating Carlos to death

"Once again Carlos! I am not a ghost!"

"But you are."

"Do I look like a ghost to you?"

"Well, I don't know. I have never seen a ghost before now."

Michael took in a deep breath and tried to visualize that one funny moment in High School to help calm himself down. 

Don't do it. It's not worth it. It's not fucking worth it.

There was a knock at the door which Eva went to answer after she threw the shirt at Michael who went into the backroom to change while over hearing the conversation. 

"Hey there Angelia."

"It's Eva."

"Yeah. Whatever."

Oh God. Is that-

"I worked for your family for almost thirteen years mister Dubose."

"Yes well I actually wasn't here to ask for resume Elsa."

"Once again it's Eva."

"Did I look like I give a shit?"

"No sir."

"Right. So I don't mean to alarm you or the lovely Amanda but last night there was a suspicious taxi car that pulled up to the house and I think an Asian prostitute got out. I don't know. I really didn't get a good look at his face but as the chairman of the Edwood Way Block Association, I felt it was my duty to let you know. Did you know I saw on Lifeinvader the other day I saw a news article from Weasel News that was talking about how Asian men are seven times as likely than other races to carry sexually transmitted diseases? I'm not racist or anything but I am just saying.

"No...I no see that one." 

"Well you should look into it. And also not to be judgey or anything but it is a bit soon for Amanda to be getting her groove on with other men? I mean her husband just died like two months ago and she has already seen four other men that I know about. That red haired kid-"

"That her son."

"Right right and that older Italian guy-"

"That Solomon Richards. Mister De Santa boss in movie studio."

"Okay but what about that lanky tattoed Canadian methhead."

"That Mister Phillips. I no think he likes be called that. And he not Amanda's boyfriend. He old friend of Mister De Santa."

"Yeah, I won't want to date him either." There was fear trembling in his voice when he said that. "He's not...he's not here now is he?"

"No Mister Phillips no here."

Michael crept out into the living room and went over to the arch where he could peer over at to watch the conversation without being caught for eavesdropping. 

Interesting. So Hayden had met Trevor. Well besides that one time. 

"Trevor, what the fuck are you wearing?"

Trevor did a twirl in the black and purple cocktail dress looking very pleased with himself. He probably was. 

And of course, his vehicle of choice was a fucking motorbike. But Michael bore it and got on anyways. His reputation was never sparkling anyways and his family couldn't really think any less of him at this point. Once they got to the Singleton's just outside of town and were sharing a basket of fries and were three beers in when Hayden Dubose came out of fucking nowhere and slammed his hands down on the table almost knocking the beers over. Michael internally screamed. 

"Heeeeeelllllllloooooo Michael. Mikey. My man. Up top." Michael begrudgingly gave him a weak high five and a fake smile. This was not gonna end well. 

Hayden turned to Trevor and glanced with a judgmental look over Trevor's choice of clothing. To be fair almost everyone had been giving them odd looks but ever since Amanda left with Fabien the house had been empty and lonely and well at this point Michael would have hung out with anyone who wanted to be around him at this point so he really didn't give a shit. 

Until fucking Dubose showed up.

"And who might you be?"

"Trevor Phillips. Michael's best friend."

Hayden glanced over him again and sucked in his lips as though attempting to see through the situation or like there was some punchline of a joke he wasn't getting here. If only he knew. "Werid. I've never heard Mikey mention you before.

Michael was ten seconds away from strangling Hayden and throwing him into the bowling alley near their seating assignment when he saw the daggers Trevor was sending him across the table. 

Hayden laughed phony and slapped Michael a little too hard on the shoulder. "But then again he NEVER talks about himself." The gaze in Trevor soften a bit and Michael sighed in relief. Looks like he wasn't about to be thrown over the bridge tonight. "I mean except for dumb shit like movies really only boomers watch. Hey you guys mind if I join you?"

"Well actually we were-" Michael didn't get to finish that sentence as he was being shoved over to the window as Hayden moved to impose himself in the booth beside him. 

One of the waitresses came over to give Michael another shaker but when she placed it on the table Hayden grabbed it up took a sip and promptly spat in back into the cup with an overdramatic "ew bourbon disgusting" and shoved it into Michael's already outstretched hand. "Here. You can have it. Stupid fucking Mexicans. Can't speak a word of English and can't get the orders right either. I'm not racist but I'm just saying."

Michael looked down into the spit bubbles forming in the foam of the drink and set it aside by the cheap napkin holder that looked like it hadn't gotten a good cleaning in six weeks. 

"So you have an interesting choice of clothes." Hayden gestured towards Trevor's entire body with disdain in his eyes. "You on the spectrum?"

Trevor scowled towards Hayden. "Which spectrum?"

Hayden tipped his head back and laughed so loud the people in the table next to them turned. "Retards, faggots, or psychos? Way too many goddamn spectrums the liberal media wants to impose on us. Pick one pal."

Michael was on the table shoving Trevor back into his seat before the situation escalated. 

Hayden Dubose was Michael's fake friend. And no that is not a metaphor for the amazing power of friendship. This isn't Kung Fu Rainbow Lazer Force. What he meant when he said Dubose was his fake friend was literally just that. A person one could keep around and point to when living the high-end lifestyle someone such as Michael did.

Hayden was one of the only people Michael really had gotten along with at the golf club besides Castro Lagano because well he saved him from the wrath of his wife and genuinely cared about golf to the point he would stay on the courses for hours after dark and was able to teach Michael a thing or two about how to improve his abhorentant golf skills. 

But Hayden...boy oh boy was he not like Lagano at all. Sadly Hayden was the prototype of most of the people in Rockford Hills. Only difference was the others mostly left Michael the fuck alone. Hayden didn't seem to get the hint. 

He had met Hayden his first time at the golf course after meeting in a bar with Norton after arriving in Los Santos for the first time. Dave was considered how Michael really hadn't made any friends besides the one corrupt police officer named Wilson Da Silva and his wife that Dave had made Michael and his wife hang out with to make so they could get some pictures in their house that didn't involve just the family. So he took a swing at golf and broke the club over his knee the first time playing. He heard a group of men at one of the other holes laughing at his outburst and their main leader waved him over. 

It was Hayden who through conversation revealed he was actually Michael's neighbor and soon began belittling Michael for his pool size. 

Hayden was a sex addict to the point where it was destroying his life. He was on his second marriage when Michael had met him and was presently on his third wife. He had two children one fo whom Tracey was friends with and the other a son none of the De Santa's had ever met because Hayden was always sending him to a boarding school out in New England called Bullworth Academy or some shit like that. Michael could never really send his kids away to a boarding school even if they drove him crazy at times because sending them away for that long was too much. Based on the way Hayden talked about his kids he seemed to hate them. 

Oh, and Hayden was annoying as fuck. Like really annoying. Not annoying to the point of being a threat but just a general nuisance Michael tolerated for the sake of appearances. He would always say shit like "Oh I'm not _____ but I'm just saying." in every fucking conversation. The man treated politics like it was a conversation point to be brought up in every conversation and everything he loved was "classy" and "pristine" and everything Michael liked was "stupid" and "boring". He was the chairman of the Edwood Way Block Association and wanted everyone to know it. One of the worst institutions Americans had ever created was fucking homeowners associations and Hayden was living proof of that. 

But for all of Hayden's failures and shortcomings he had one ability over Michael few had. A constant reminder to Michael of how little he belonged. 

Michael was snapped out of his memories by the sound of Eva practically shouting in angry Spanish and came around the corner to confront Hayden for whatever stupid shit he had been trying to pull.

Hayden was in a cast and on crutches. His face was bruised as was the rest of him. Someone had handed him his ass to him and it couldn't have been Trevor because well...if Hayden had pissed him off he won't have been standing before Michael now. His eyebrows shot up and his eyes widen as the color literally drained from his face like a juice strainer. 

"M..m....Mike....ha ha ha..." and with that Hayden's rolled into the back of his head and he fell backwards into the bushes. 

Carlos came around the corner and laughed. "Fucking white people."

Eva rolled her eyes and shook her head and proceeded to slam the door. "¡Idiota! ¡Honestamente! Carlos take him to house!"

"What? Why do I have to do it?"

"Go! Now! House showing! Two hours!"

Carlos groaned but went to grab the wheelbarrow from the shed in the back. Eva marched past Michael and harshly grabbed the mop leaning against the sink to clean up the tracks Carlos had left around the house as she mumbled what was most likely not the most ladylike of Spanish obscenities beneath her breath. 

She turned to glare at Michael. "You! Leave!"

"What? It's my house you can't just-"

"Not anymore it not! Now be gone ghost! Do ghost thing and vanish! It too early to deal with this shit!"

"But-"

"OUT!"

Michael knew he wasn't going to get any answers out of these two so he stomped outside to see the comedic sight of Carlos dumping Hayden's body on his front porch like a sack of potatoes. Michael waved down a taxi and got in to see a middle-aged blonde woman in the driver's seat. There was a Hispanic man in the  He gave her the address and hoped to God Paige won't be too mad at him for being gone for so long. 

"Ah. I recognize you." The Hispanic man turned to face Michael. 

"I don't think so pal." Michael really didn't need to get killed today or accused of being a ghost or whatever the fuck else was-

"Alright fellers you got your ids?" The taxi driver said gruffly. Guess she was a smoker too. 

"IDs? What for?" The taxi driver narrowed her eyes at Michael when he said that. 

"Merryweather checkpoints? It's 9:30 am sweetheart and I ain't getting arrested again because some high ass teenager doesn't know how to carry anything thicker than their cellular device."

Michael laughed. "You really think we're gonna fall for that. Merryweather? Merryweather got kicked out of Los Santos because  I...erm...a really handsome group of gruff rogues...took down the system. Robin Hood types."

The Hispanic guy was already taking out his id to hand to the taxi driver before Michael put his hand on the guy's wrist and shook his head. "Trust me. There is no Merryweather checkpoint. This lady is just trying to scam us both." The man's eyebrows shot up when he got a closer at Michael's face.

The driver sighed angrily. "You're about two seconds from being thrown to the side of the road pal."

"You're...you're Michael De Santa."

"Yup. Associate producer of Meltdown. Glad my fame is starting to  proceed me." 

The driver had stopped the taxi to stare at him too. But it wasn't with admiration. It was with fear like Carlos and Eva had been looking at him. She pulled off to the side of the road near an abandoned gas station and stopped at the curve. "I'm sorry but I can't have you in here. I've got kids. You understand right?"

"What?"

"You have to go. Don't try calling another taxi from this company. I am radioing you in and will be informing corporate to inform the other drivers to not pick you up." 

"But I-"

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be. I have a gun and I am not afraid to use it." 

Michael turned to look for help from the Hispanic guy but he had already moved closer to the window in an attempt to get away from Michael and looked genuinely scared.

Michael sighed and opened the door. "Alright then." He got out and watched the taxi speed off in the opposite direction all the while the guy in the backseat never took his eyes off of Michael.

Michael sighed and decided to try and use one of the payphones to reach out to his family again. He called Amanda, Tracey, and Jimmy as he had their numbers memorized but to no avail, as they didn't answer so he left a lengthy message and apologized for anything and everything he had done in the past few days that would make them want to leave him. 

Poor poor Michael. All alone again. All alone, all alone, all alone. 

He carjacked a Peyote Gasser that looked like it had seen better days and drove the rest of the way back to the apartment. He decided to get some form of breakfast in the form of visiting a Bean Machine on the way back and getting three coffees. He got the latte with a sprinkle of sugar for Franklin just like he always got but still liked to bitch about the number of burpies he would have to do afterward, for Paige a black coffee with caramel syrup which he prayed to God he was remembering right from before the jewelry store job and the Big One and of course a decaf with soy milk for himself. 

"Where the fuck have you been?" 

Michael glanced behind him one last time before shutting the door and setting the coffees on the counter. "I told you. I went home to check on my wife and kids."

Paige's death glare lighten a bit at that last part. "And?"

Michael shoved the straw into his cup to stir the soy milk inside. "What do you mean and?"

She shrugged. "Just wanted to know if they were okay was all."

"Yeah. Everything is fine. Amanda was just mad at me again." Michael lied. He wished that were true. He wanted it to be true. 

Paige's sleek black hair was tied back in a messy ponytail and she had deep craters under her eyes. Michael felt like if he pushed her shoulder she would fall over onto the floor.

"Did...did you get any sleep last night?"

She glared at the counter. "My son is missing. The fuck do you think."

Michael sighed. "You are of no use to anyone if you are too tired to function properly. Got to put your oxygen mask on first right?" He heard her snort with a laugh she tried to hide as he handed her her coffee and proceeded to search the kitchen for a knife to cut up some of the apples and fruit in the basket. He took out three bowls from the top shelf and felt like he hit the jackpot when he found a cutting board in the drawer on the right of the stove. He pushed past Paige to wash his hands and the fruits off before getting to work. 

He hummed the fruit salad song to help remember the instructions as he sliced the fruits and placed the amounts in the bowls. Paige took a swig of her coffee and looked up at Michael. "What are you doing?"

Michael slid the bowl across the island that Paige put her palm on before it slid to the floor. "Fruit salad?" 

Instead of answering he tossed a spoon at her which she caught with ease before taking the second bowl and coffee to Franklin's room. 

Franklin still wasn't awake yet but his chest was rising and falling. He looked at peace and Michael didn't want to wake him up just yet so he set the makeshift breakfast down on the dresser and looked down at Franklin's face.

His hair was longer than Michael remembered and less kept too. Franklin was always well put together so seeing him like this was a little jarring but kind of sweet in a weird way. Michael had never noticed how curly Franklin's hair was until now since he always had it in dreads or cut it shorter or in one of those hats he liked to wear backward. Michael couldn't help but chuckle to himself about how Franklin's fluffy head resembled a microphone. He took his middle finger ever so gently and pushed one of the curls off Franklin's eyelid and quietly left the room. 

He didn't see Paige in the kitchen and turned to hear her softly snoring on the couch with a half-eaten bowl of fruit salad on the coffee table in front of her. He smiled softly and went to go grab one of the blankets off the bed and draped it clumsily over her. Then he went to go get some god damn rest himself. He couldn't think clearly after all if he didn't get any sleep himself. 

The sleep didn't last that long as there was a loud....VERY FUCKING LOUD...knock at the door. 

Michael groaned, put his clothes back on and went to go get it. 

Marnie's smiling face was on the other side. "Kifflom Brother Zondar!"

Michael snorted. "Zondar? I thought I was Zolag?"

She waved her hand softly. "Well, you were acting like a Zolag when you stole from us but now since you followed the Epstein's directions you are now a Zondar. Congrats!"

"Congrats indeed Brother Zondar. Kifflom brother brother!" Like a fucking snake Tom slipped out of the shadows wearing that stupid Epstein polo vest and khaki pants with a smile so fake it could give Amanda's tits for a run. 

"Tom? What are you doing here?" 

"Tom is my close brother for new recruits to the Epsilon program. I am surprised that you remember him."

"Of course I remember him. He made me run into the fucking dessert in a double layers oversized heat trap and also sent me out into the middle of nowhere to be attacked by thugs!"

"Now Zondar we don't refer to our fellow Kifflom siblings as thugs and we don't use the F word in front of Epsilon recruiters. The Literature makes that very clear." Marnie said it like she was scolding a child and it pissed Michael off even more. 

"Oh yeah? The Literature huh? Well is The Literature also in favor of sending mail to former clients coated in poision!"

Marnie scoffed. "The Children of the Mountain were responsible for that. Not us. Those heathens couldn't follow The Literature if it was handed to them in highlitghted script form."

Tom placed a hand on Marnie's shoulder. "Now Mother Sister I believe we have gotten far off from the topic at hand. We were discussing the situation." 

"Right. Sorry. I apologize Brother Tom and Brother Zondar. Sometimes I let my anger get the best of me but it is a redeemable trait that I am attempting to work on." 

Tom beamed. "I accept your apology. Brother Zondar?"

Michael sighed. "I accept your apology too...I guess."

Marnie actually squealed and almost knocked Michael backward when she wrapped her arms around his neck. "I am so glad to have you back with us Brother Zondar. I missed you terribly!"

"We missed you terribly." Tom corrected leaning in closer like a fucking wheat stalk in the wind. 

The two pushed their way in and Michael closed the door behind them. 

There was something really wrong about this. Michael felt it in his gut.

"Who is that?"

Shit. The tone Tom was using was making Michael's skin crawl and before his mind could even fully process the situation he was across the room standing in front of the sleeping Paige protectively. "This is Paige."

Tom narrowed his eyes and Marnie began chewing on her lip. "Well let me rephrase. Why is she here?"

"So don't get angry-"

Marnie did the exact opposite the fucking hypocrite by going fucking ballistic. "Did you not read the letter that I put on the table! I put it with a fruit basket and everything! You can't ignore fruit baskets Zondar! Society dictates that!" 

"She helped me escape! What was I supposed to do? Leave her to get killed by the FIB?" 

"Yes! This was not a Zondar move! You have been demoted back to a Zolag." 

Michael sighed. "Look...she helped me and Franklin escape. I won't be her if it wasn't for her."

Marnie seemed to loosen up a bit after that. "Okay. And was she the one who killed Steve Haines?"

"No. I did." Marnie didn't need to know. The Epsilon didn't need to know. It was none of their business anyways. "Look. She says your fellow cult buddies took her kid."

Tom actually hissed. "The. Epsilon. Are. Not. A. Cult."

"Yeah, Brother Zolag it's not cool to go thrown that label around so carelessly. We are truth seekers. Not cultists. Go up into the mountains if you want to see what real cult members look like."

"Actually I heard some methhead hipster killed them all. The Altruists are no more."

"Serves them right. All will be judged by trees of life. The Literature makes that very clear."

"Fine. People from your organization took her kid."

Tom raised an eyebrow. "And your point?"

"What do you mean my point? Give her her kid back!"

With that Paige jolted awake and practically spun off the couch tripping on the bedsheet as she attempted to stand up. "YOU!"

"Alright alright alright alright. Paige. Paige. PAIGE!" Despite how small she was was Paige was a lot harder to hold back than expected. Marnie and Tom stared at the spectacle and did not seem the least bit terrified that the woman who had helped rob the Union Depository was coming to rip their heads off and for good reason. Michael moved his hand out of the way seconds before Paige was able to take a good chunk of his index finger out with her teeth. 

Like having another fucking Trevor around.

When he finally was able to set her down on the couch and get between the two opposing groups Michael asked "So let's just calm down. Okay. Let's start with the obvious. Why?"

Tom shrugged and looked at the ground as he said "Well it could be really for any number of reasons really. Was the child a red head?"

Something that resembled a form of guilt flicked through his eyes as he said it causing him to break eye contact with Michael and instead focus on the oil painting of the El Gordo Lighthouse.

Interesting...

"No." Paige said quietly.

Marnie actually breathed a sigh of relief at that. She also was no longer looking at Michael's face and instead faced the ground. 

"What is your occupation?"

"Freelance hacker."

"And the boy's father's?"

"Fuck you."

"Well that's lovely."

"Oh I'll show you fucking lovely you pastel wearing asshole-" Michael grabbed her shoulders and steered her into the nearest bedroom beside them before things could escalate further. 

"What is your problem?"

"MY problem! My problem? What is your problem? Those fuckers have Conner who knows where and-"

"I know I know. Look. We need to work with them. Have you noticed their body language?"

Paige looked up. "No."

"I have. Three important things in fact. One: Tom put his arm in front of Marnie when you went ballistic. This means they most likely share more than a professional relationship and based on the way they have been talking to each other seems to confirm this. Two: Marnie hugged me and gave me a fruit basket. This means she is probably lonely and doesn't have a lot of friends and low self-esteem. When I first met her she talked about how she used to sell herself for drugs and based on that and the way she dressing that isn't far off. And finally, the two had all the suitably about hiding their guilt like a puppy walking with its tail between its legs. I can work with this but I need you stay calm."

Paige didn't look convinced. He nudged her chin so she would look back at him. "Hey. It's gonna be okay. This is just like the jewelry store and the Big One right? You can trust me yeah? We can do this? You are super smart and can hack into anything and everything. That's why you're on the team and why Lester trusts you so much. Don't let these crazy assholes scare you."

"Yeah okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"We got this!"

"Yeah. I think."

"Okay. How old is Conner?"

"He's five. In kindergarden."

"Oh. That's a rough time. I remember Tracey's first day of school. I drove her up to the school in the truck. It was already snowing even though it was only September. She was really scared because she didn't know any of the other kids. It was a really nice private school. The fancy ones where the kids got a computer lab and had their own personal libary books and a tutor to help with their spellings and the cafateria always was stooked with fruits and veggtables that the kids could take as much as they wanted. We had just had to move five counties over because of a coke deal I was involved in that had gone south and it's always scary. We just sat in the car loop for fifteen minutes because she won't get out and just held onto my arm. I walked her up finally and I sat with her the entire first half of the day. She sat on my lap and hid in my jacket whenever the teacher or the other kids or parents tried to talk to her. She's really grown into herself now but back then she was so so shy. Then it got to lunch and she was still sitting on my lap. One of the other boys came over and offered her to sit. I told I would be right on the wall waiting for her and they got along well. By the time recess came around she had made an entire group of friends and didn't really need me anymore. I said goodbye. When I picked her up with Jimmy in the back with his car seat she actually didn't want to leave her friends. I remember being so fucking proud of her...I wasn't there for my other...for Jimmy's...first day though..."

Paige shrugged and looked down with a look of understanding and sadness. "I missed my son's Christmas pageant at the church last year because I was hacking into a casino. Then I missed Christmas because I was planning for a heist. Then I missed New Year's because I was doing the heist. And then I missed when he was sick because I was...busy...."

"Yeah. I get it. I guess I'm just giving you such a hard time about it because I know what the aftermath of all that is like. Do you have any idea how many birthday parties, baseball games, dance recitals, first days, school dances, and science fairs I missed? How many times my kids would rather have whoever my wife was having an affair with as their dad because of their own was such a useless pathetic piece of shit?  And then you just get tired. You take them away from the criminal poison of your own origins but end up bringing them here and causing them more spoils. Your own kids won't even look you in the eyes and look at you in fear after you smash their tv or lose your cool with them. And then one day you push too hard and all your mistakes that you had put off from almost a decade come boiling to the surface in full force and then they walk away. They abandon you and leave you to rot in the hell you have created for yourself all alone. And that is the loniliest feeling in the world. Being entirely alone and knowing it is completely and utterly your fault."

Paige was giving him that empathetic look that looked so unnatural to her face. Michael hated it when people looked at him like that. "But it worked out right? You got your family back and they forgave you so it all worked in the end."

"No. I lied Paige. My family...left me again. When I went to the house last night apparently Amanda's selling it and none of them are answering their phones and I just...I don't know what I did. Or didn't fo this time." 

"Michael I don't think that they are...it's not because they hate you. Trust me." 

Michael could't help but laugh a little. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to dump all this on you."

"No. It's okay. I...are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm alright now thanks to your less than hospitable first aid work."

"No I meant...I...sorry...I'm not really good with the whole comforting thing. I just...how are you alive right now?"

"It was just a shank, Paige. And some fucking toxins from the motherland. I've been through much  worse."

"No not that. I mean the...the other...the other thing."

Now Michael was starting to get annoyed. What the fuck now? "What 'other thing'?"

"You know the whole Palmer-Taylor Power Station thing. I mean this whole thing man. It's a bit fucked up."

Suddenly the room felt like the air was leaving it. "Wh-what...why do you keep saying...why do you keep saying that?...I"

Paige held up her hands as an alarm shot up her face. "Look. It's okay. We don't have to talk about it now. Let's go out there and do this!"

"Alrighty. Let's go out there and do this thing!" He clapped her shoulders and the two walked out. 

Michael made sure he was in front though just in case these fuckers tried to do something and also so Paige won't try to attack them. Just like he used to negotiate drug deals back in the old days. Fuck, he negotiated his fate with Trevor when they were both standing over Brad's corpse against the advice of Norton. He could handle a bunch of cultists. 

"So Tom and I have been discussing the situation at hand and we think we know why the child was removed from the home. Is his name Conner Harris?"

Paige's eyes lit up in terror with it. "Yes. That's him."

"Did he win an award of a heuristic nature?"

"What? No. I mean he won the science fair at his school recently. His project was on cells. He's kind of going through a phase where he likes those books about cells and stuff."

"Exactly. Biology is heuristic to the literature."

"What?"

Michale held up his hand between the two of them before things escalated. "Alright. So we know why even it was a fucking ridiculous reason. Now we can go get the kid and be done with this."

Tom shook his head. "No. We aren't doing that."

Michael glared at the two of them and didn't miss how Tom's posture shrunk under it. "And why the fuck not?"

"You have already drawn enough attention to yourself and we don't need to add to that."

"Well too fucking bad. You can't just go around kidnapping random kids in the night because they wanted to talk about cells in a fucking ten dollar science fair."

"No. We can't."

"Oh yes, we are."

"No. We aren't. You are gonna stay here until the boy recovers and that tattooed heathen is going to go back to wherever she came from and we are going to go on with the plan as planned."

Fifteen minutes later...

"I cannot believe we are doing this."

Marnie elbowed Tom in the ribs as she turned into Rockford Hills. "Cheer up Tom! This is a great bonding exercise!"

Tom looked at the window of the passenger seat and sighed deeply. "Let's just get this over with."

Michael smiled at Marnie who smiled back in the rearview mirror. He was a bit worried to leave Franklin alone but Frank was tough. He could be left alone. 

They finally pulled up to the program's headquarters on Spanish Avenue in Rockford Hills. Way too damn close to his house. Marnie parked in a spot far from the building as possible. He didn't miss the bit of panic that ran through Tom's eyes when they pulled up. Marnie turned to Paige and Michael.

"Alright so here's what's going to happen. I have some spare uniforms in the back. We put them on. Walk up like we're new recruits. Tom has an access card to the upper floors where the child should be..."

1:00 pm, November 12th, Goma Street, Vespuchi Beach, Reality B:

"BOOM! OOOOOHHHH! YOU JUST GOT TREVOR PHILLIPS INDUSTIED BITCH!" 

Cletus shook his head as Ursula continued to scream at the top of her lungs as the dust settled at what was formerly a Merryweather checkpoint. "We need to get a new catchphrase..."

Chef shook his head and elbowed Cletus in the side. "Eh, I don't think so. Look at her she's having the time of her life. Let her have this."

"WHOOOO! THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!"

Chef couldn't help but chuckle. "You say that every day."

"Well, I mean it today!"

"Alrighty sure. Whatever I guess." 

The three of them ran off the hide in the woods as the rest of the Merryweather Emergency Response Team descended on the ashes of their former colleagues like cockroaches. The three stopped when they came beneath the overpass of the bridge and Ursula finally answered her ringing phone. 

"MAUDE!"

Maude sighed on the other end of the line. "Once again Ursula you don't gots to scream every time you answer the damn phone."

"Relaaaaaaaaxxxxxx Maude. Whatcha got for us this time? And where the fuck is Ron?"

"He should be there with the heli soon."

"Neato. So what's next on the agenda? Police president robbery? Merryweather laughing gas attack? Good old fashion crowbar to the scalp?" 

"Naw. I have somthi'n that may be of more interest to ya'll. Apparently some nutcase is walking round claiming to be Michael De Santa."

"OOOOoooOOOhhh not for long their not!"

"Apparently the Downtown Cab Co. just put out a ban on this guy. Says he no cooperate with their policies on giving trouble to Merryweather. Also two of the housekeepers for the De Santa family have claimed to have seen the ghost of Michael and Wade overheard some fella saying it too at the Vanilla Unicorn this afternoon."

"How pathetic?"

"Yeah, havin' Ron send y'all over to an arrested taxi driver. A Moksha Hajjar."

"No, I meant pathetic as in being at a strip club at 2 in the afternoon. How sad do you have to be to rely on the company of half-naked women?"

"Rich white folks all the same. They all the damn same. And just listen Trevor said he gonna deal with this guy himself so don't go and like beat his head in or somethin'."

"If he gonna deal with it then where the fuck is he?"

"Guardian the De Santas. Y'know how it is. With the 'hole death of Haines and whatnot."

"Once again we didn't kill em. Just got there when he was dead."

"Uh-huh. Also if ya see Paige tell her to get her ass over here. Supposed to fix my damn computer but she nev' show up."

"Alrighty, Maude. Will do. Ta-ta."

1:25 pm, November 12th, 2013, Epsilon Center four corridor, Reality B

"They should be right around this corner," Marnie whispered as the three of them moved across the hallway and hid behind a pillar while Tom went to go distract some fellow Epsilonists. (which Michael just realized were called that)

"And I swear to God if a single hair on his head has been harmed-"

"Yeah yeah yeah you'll gouge out my eyeballs or beat me with a stick or make it where I can't pay my taxes. I know. I get it. Cris. You've said it like thirteen times." Marnie rolled her eyes and walked the three of them over to the door. "Shouldn't be blaming me anyhow. I just deal with new recruits like Brother Zolag here." Marnie pushed open the door and the three walked throughout to a balcony overlooking a circular room. Overlooking the railing Michael saw about a dozen children down below.

Marnie cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted below "Kifflom Sister Mother. Are you with us now?"

When no response came Marnie motioned for Michael and Paige to follow her to the steps. Once they fully descended the steps a little boy came racing towards them. 

"Mommy!" 

Paige was down on her knees in an instant and was catching the little one in her arms holding him tightly and kissing him a million times over. There were tears in her eyes as she did so and Michael couldn't help but smile smugly over to a frowning Marnie. 

"Doesn't it feel good to help others?"

"It won't feel so good when Mother Sister returns and cuts off our hands, Brother Zolag."

Michael snorted. "Come on. Don't be so dramatic."

"Alright. You have your child. Let's go now before Tom runs out of tenets to discuss."

But Michael wasn't listening and had ventured along the wall to a little girl sitting by her lonesome cradling her arm. He bent down to get a closer look at the little one. She reminded him so much of Tracey. He heard Marnie somehwhere in the distance saying "What did I just say?"

"Hey, there little girl. My name's Michael. What's yours?"

The little tyke looked up at him. "Evelyn."

Michael sat down on the ground in front of her and spread his legs out. "That's a pretty name. What's wrong with your arm?"

Eyes full of tears looked back at him. "Mother Sister broke it. She said I was being bad."

"Brother Zolag what are you doing?" Marnie was above the two of them with her hands on her hips and her unpolished nails scratching against her jeans. She looked annoyed but not fully angry. More like a panicked angry. She was scared. 

Michael ignored her. 

"How old are you Evelyn?" 

"Three. How old are you?"

"As old as a dinosaur."

She smiled at him and started giggling. A few of the other children had walked over to Michael and were watching the two of them. A little boy with a green Vinewood hoodie came over to sit beside him on his other side and asked if he had any food. Soon the other children started to do the same and were crowding around Michael all asking for food and water. Michael started to get a bit concerned. 

"When was the last time you all ate something?"

The little boy in the green jacket beside Michael answered. "I don't know. But I'm hungry."

"Me too." A little girl in a purple t-shirt agreed. 

"Three days. We haven't had anything to eat in three days." One of the older children spoke up and the younger ones nodded to confirm this. 

And the pit in Michael's stomach was officially cut open. 

"Marnie..."

But Marnie wasn't looking at him. She was looking out of the corner of her eye. She wasn't looking at Paige either who looked like she was eleven seconds from beating Marnie to death with a lamp. "Alright we have drawn enough attention to ourselves and we need to leave right now."

Michael stood up and scooped Evelyn up in his right arm. The other children followed closely behind him almost nipping his heels as he walked over to Marnie who was backing up as though the hounds of Hell were coming to much on her insides which in actuality wasn't that far off from the reality of the situation. 

"Marnie. These kids haven't eaten in three days."

"It's not that big a deal. They were going to be feed tomorrow morning. I think..."

Paige stood up while balancing Conner on her right hip and also went to join Michael in the intimidiation process. 

Finally a wingman that doesn't smell like gasoline or threatens me every ten seconds about how I am going to be put in the ground with none of my limbs in tact.

"We're taking them with us."

Marnie looked back at him horrified. "No we aren't. We don't need to draw any more attention to ourselves-"

"Well too bad."

"I'm sorry Brother Zolag. But we can't just take the children with us. Mother Sister will know something is wrong and then what are we gonna do. We can't take them with us."

Thirty minutes later...

"I cannot believe he actually convienced you to take all the children with us." Tom had been less than thrilled to see a gaggle of children following behind Marnie, Paige and Michael but had gone along with it because of Marnie's sweet talk. "You know Mother Sister is not going to be happy that you basically stole all of her new recruits right?"

Before Marnie could answer Michael pipped up from the backseat "Well if she has a problem she can come talk to me about it. Stealing kids from their homes in the middle of the night, breaking their arms, not giving them any food or water for three days. She is fixing to get what's coming to her anyways."

Marnie smiled back at Michael a little sadly. "I appreciate your enthusiasm Brother Zolag but that is not how things work. The Literature makes that very clear."

Michael sighed but said nothing more. Evelyn who had literally not left his side since he sat down next to her was already fast asleep in his arms. The trick was to massage the head. Used to put Tracey and Jimmy to sleep right away when they were this age. He was laying on the floor of the car with the other children surrounding him and most had fallen asleep against him too. At least no one was acting like he died or some shit he thought as he brushed his fingers through the girl's soft curls. 

Paige was rubbing circles into a sleeping Conner's back and kept glancing at Michael giving him knowing looks. 

Michael tapped on the back of Marnie's seat. "Hey. Let's stop at the Mcdongles up on the corner here. Get these kiddos something to eat."

Tom sighed loudly but turned into the parking lot when Marnie shrugged at him. 

Still got it Michael thought to himself. 

2:00 pm, November 12th, 2013, LSSD Prescient, Reailty B:

"This is discrimination! I'll have you know my husband is a doctor at the Central Los Santos Medical Center and when he hears about this you can bet there will be lawyers involved!" 

Deputy Lewis sighed loudly. "Listen lady I'm just doing my job. The only reason you are here is because you are associated with Franklin Clinton who escaped from custody with his formerly deceased partner in crime Michael De Santa and Paige Harris. We know you two had a thing so we are just here to ask a few questions."

Tanisha snorted. "A thing? That was so long ago!"

"Tanish, it was three months ago."

Tanisha sent daggers towards Lamar. "Lamar I love you but if you don't shut the fuck up I am going to bury you under the courthouse."

"Damn! Someone's on their period. Or pregnant."

"LAMAR!"

Lewis rubbed his hands over his eyes. "Listen. All I need to know is if you've seen Clinton in the last 24 hours."

"No, we haven't for the fifth time."

"What do I look like? Snitchy Mcgiee?"

"LAMAR I SWEAR TO GOD!" Lamar could barley move an inch before Tanisha grabbed a full handful of afro with the hand that wasn't cuffed to the table and pulled him towards her face while snarling like a cat as Lewis moved to seperate them for the fifteenth time this afternoon. 

One of the interns walked in just as he had finally gotten the two apart. "Uh Deputy Lewis?"

"Yes Sharon what is it?"

"There are four hillbillies who just shot eleven holes into the ceiling and told everyone to get on the ground before their brains got blown out like cherry pudding pie and the crazy lady keeps yelling about a gardener and moma falling off a cliff and some guy choking on his own hand."

Lamar's eyes widened. "Ah fuck."

Tanisha narrowed her eyes towards him. "What now?"

Lamar took a deep breath in. "Deputy Lewis can we borrow your gun?"

Lewis shook his head and put his hand on the handle of the pistol. "No you absolutly cannot."

"Yeah Lamar what the hell you need a gun for now?"

"So you member how I told you about that one crazy dude."

"Oh my God you have got to be fucking kidding me."

"Yeah we need that gun."

Lewis and Sharon were both looking at them with terrified looks. "Yeah what crazy dude?"

"Trevor Phillips. He might let you off easy because you a red head lady and he might let you both of easy cause you women but at least let me blow out my brains fore I become a man meat pie or some shit."

As though right on time a loud shrill voice echoed through the halls of the police prescient "MOKSHA! TP INC IS HERE TO SET YOU FREE!"

Lewis looked to Sharon. "Moksha? Wasn't that the taxi driver those Merryweather agents beat the shit out of?"

Sharon nodded still looking like she was about to vomit all over the floor.

Lewis waved her off. "Eh go hand him over. They'll leave us alone and Merryweather can stick a smoke grenade up their asses for all I care. The Human RIghts society is already up our asses about the racist cops that may or may not have targetted colors in downtown Los Santos. The least we can do is not get accused of bigitory towards sand monkies and psychos."

"Sir I don't think you're supposed to use those terms-"

"Did I fucking stutter you Irish bitch!"

"No I-"

"Then why the fuck are you still standing there you red haired cunt!"

Sharon huffed angrily before storming out of the intergation room. Lamar watched her go while shaking his head. "Damn dude that was fucking ice cold."

Lewis combed back his dirty blonde hair and sighed deeply. "Yeah well you sometimes you got to be cruel to be kind you know what I'm saying."

Lamar and Tanisha both rolled their eyes simaltaniously. Lew sighed before grabbing his gun and pointing it at both of them. "Actually you know what both of you stand the fuck up."

"Dude what the hell!"

"Yeah what the fuck!"

Lewis undid their restraints and lead them out into the hallway where Sharon was currently shoving a barely concious Moksha into the hands of Cletus. 

"We also got these two if you want em!" Lewis cried out while shoving Tanisha and Lamar towards the four troublemakers. 

"Lamar what do we do?" Tanisha whispered. Lamar squeezed her hand tightly as they were forced to walk towards the hillbillies with guns who were giving them suspicious and unsettling looks. 

"It'll be okay. Trevor has beef with Frank and me not you. You'll be fine." Lamar gave her trembling hand a squeeze before Chef and Ron forced them apart and held guns up to their temples. Soon they were out in the street where both their hands were ziptied, bags shoved over their heads and then being forcibly shoved in the back of a helicopter.

Tanisha held in her tears as she tried to not think too hard about how her husband was going to react to finding her body chopped up into bite sized pieces in the middle of the desert somewhere or how that shady Michael De Santa had probably already beaten Franklin to death with a meat cleaver as she felt the helicopter start and lift off the ground as Ursula continued to whine about not being able to blow up the police presienct. 

2:00 pm, November 12th, 2013, Mcdongles, Reality B:

"And make sure each and every one of you wash your hands. Sing the happy birthday song twice." Michael watched the kids scatter off to the bathrooms as he placed their orders with a young looking cashier and made sure to order something for Franklin. (a single burger with no cheese and veggie fries with a bottle of water he really didn't need to get yelled at for the fifth time today because he got a simple order wrong) The restraunt was pretty much deserted although there was an older couple in a booth towards the back who kept giving them dirty looks. It probably had something to do with the fact they were are dressed like cult leaders but who fucking knew at this point. It may have had something to do with him "dying or some shit." 

Palmer-Taylor Power Station? Why do they all keep saying that? Why do they all keep looking at me like that?

"Michael your eye. It's bleeding."

Paige's voice sounded distant as he reached up to touch his his face and felt indeed there was blood trailing down the side of his face. Suddenly invisble hands were wrapping around his neck and the floor was being pulled out from under him. He felt real arms leading him over to one of the poorly cleaned booths by the window and forcing him to sit down.

Then the moment was gone. 

And the world stabilized.

But there was a small stinging under his eye. He reached up to touch to find he had a small cut there.

Just like the claw marks on his stomach.

Paige brought him back down to earth by setting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "M, you alright? Do you need some water or something?"

He shook his head still feeling like there was a bowling ball in the back of his throat. Fucking Russians!

"He's fine but I won't be getting too close to him like that right now." Marnie assured Paige. 

Paige leered at Marnie as she protectivly rubbed the side of Michael's neck to check his pulse. "You're on a fucking thin piece of ice right now bitch. Real fucking thin. I suggest you shut your mouth before a shut it for you."

Marnie said nothing in response and just looked out the window as Paige bent down to wipe the blood from Michael's face with cheap flimsy napkins long enough for him to tolerate it until he was pushing her hand away and mumbling that he was fine.

Their order was ready and when Michael tried to stand up to help Paige and Tom carry the trays back to the table he was being pushed back down by Paige and he complied. As soon as Tom and Paige's backs were to them he felt Marnie slip her hands on top of his and squeeze them reassuringly.

"Don't fear Brother Zolag. Your molecules are just settling. It's perfectly normal. Just try and relax."

"But the  Palmer-Taylor Power Station...Paige said-"

"Forget about what Paige said. Listen to me. Only listen to me. I will explain everything later. Try not to think about it and eat your food."

He then felt sad. Like really really fucking sad and scared. It reminded him on when he was on anti-depressants. 

Then he was crying. 

Like really crying.

And he couldn't stop.

And he didn't know why.

Make it stop. Make it stop. Please God make it stop.

Paige returned and set the tray down at the table next to them and practically flung Marnie's hands off of his. "Get away from him!"

She bent down beside him and rubbed his shoulder. "Michael are you okay? Come on let's go sit somewhere else." She helped him out of his seat and sat him three tables down. She fetched their trays and directed the kids to sit down in the chairs and booths beside them as they stampeded out of the bathrooms like cows on a dairy farm.

He hates me. He hates me. Franklin hates me and always fucking has. 

Falling falling falling falling falling

Make it stop 

don't let me go

death and suffering 

take me back to the top

please God please

make it stop

Then the feeling of sadness and terror vanished and Paige was staring at him. 

Wait...why was I crying again? Oh the food's here. Fucking finally. I'm starving.

Evelyn jumped onto his lap and hugged his forearm. He smiled down at her. "Hey there Evey. Be careful with your arm now. We don't want it to hurt now do we?"

He had made a makeshift cast for her with the gaze and splints he had left over from patching up Franklin in his pocket with much fussing and crying but he figured it was better than nothing. He ruffled her soft blonde curls as she pulled the meal out of brightly colored bag with Inponent Rage doing power crunches on the front and crossword puzzles on the back. 

Paige told Conner she was going to the bathroom and walked towards the doors. But Michael watched her head for the phones instead and put in a number to call somebody. He had a really bad feeling about it. Something in his gut just told him so. 

Michael also didn't miss how Marnie and Tom hadn't touched their food since they had it set down in front of them. They just kept looking around and behind them as though a skeleton was going to jump out of one of the overflowing trash bins and steal their souls. Michael got up and pretended to be fetching some condiments to try and listen in on their conversation.

"Somebody's going to have to take the fall for this Shupar."

"I'll do it."

Michael saw Tom's eyes widen out of the corner of his eye. "No no. I can't let you do that-"

Marnie put her hand over his. "It'll be okay."

"But-"

"Fifteen minutes. That's all. Then it's over. I'm strong. I can take the punishment."

"But I can't watch you go through that. Not again. Not like last time-"

"Then close your eyes." 

"You know it's not easy."

"Sure it is. You just need to broaden your perspectives and think outside the anti-thesis. The Literature makes that very clear."

Tom hissed a whisper to her. "This isn't like that! You know that!"

"It's just fifteen minutes Tom. You're acting like Mother Sister is going to cut off my head or something."

"We can think of a lie-"

"Lying to Mother Sister? Did that really just come out of your mouth?"

"What would be the harm?"

"The harm? Actions have consequences. The Literature makes that very clear. Our actions today need to have a consequence."

"And how come I won't be getting any consequences?"

"Because I am above you in the latter and I will take the consequence for you."

"No you won't-"

"Enough Tom. I don't want to hear anymore."

"I just don't want to see you get punished-"

"Punished? Whose getting punished?" Michael came over to the table and decided to play it safe and dumb. 

They both looked up at him. "Oh, Kifflom Brother Zolag. We were just discussing the weather."

Tom nodded. "Yes. Looks like it's going to storm today. Getting rained on should be punishment enough."

Marnie just rolled her eyes at that and huffed.

Michael sighed and slipped into the booth across from them. "Look I know this might be none of my business-"

Tom snarled. "You're right."

"Huh?"

"It is none of your business."

Marnie smacked Tom on the shoulder. "Knock it off." She turned to Michael and smiled. "Please continue Brother Zolag."

"So who is this Mother Sister you guys keep talking about?"

"A Mother Sister refers to any sister above ones current position. I have met nine-year-olds who were able to figure that detail out faster than you could."

Michael didn't like Tom's tone. Not one bit. "The fuck did you just say to me?"

"I apologize for my friend Tom here. He sometimes gets overexcited. To answer your question Brother Zolag the particular Mother Sister we were referring to is Mama Bear or formerly known as Betty Wiffleton. She trained for three days at the certified shaman in the state of San Andreas, where the Epsilon Program is based. She actually was the one who helped show me the thesis when I was shadowing her while I was in school for psychology. She was able to pull me away from the horrors of the evil institution that suppresses real science and brought me here where I now spend my days helping others find that same light."

Tom cleared his throat. "She also helped show me the thesis as well. Gradually of course. Too much at once for a simple mind like mine once was could melt me to nothingness. Truth must be revealed gradually, until you are capable of understanding it."

And then that was when Michael noticed the burn scars on the bottom part of Marnie's arms. She turned them over when she noticed him staring. 

And that was the biggest fucking problem with this fucking world. You can never fully hate anyone because everyone isn't just fully pure evil or just fully pure good. That's not how humans are and it was so fucking annoying. Trevor was fully evil. These kids who were not much older than Franklin, Jimmy or Tracey weren't fully evil. They were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

Marnie was a student in college a place that is supposed to open the golden doors to a lifelong career and a lifetime of somewhat moral lifestyle. Had to be fucking better than what Michael fucking had. And then just one day one class one time one fucking whatever she was swept away by some crazy person just because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong person. Based on what little he knew about her and her past he could put the pieces together on what was going on. Used by the streets and her own drug addiction and then the minute she got clean and actually tried to make a better life for herself these fucking freaks descended on her like vultures and it wasn't fair. It just wasn't fucking fair. 

It freaked him out that at Tracey's college these people could be walking around luring in girls with low self-esteem. 

Girls like Marnie.

Girls like Tracey.

And then every mental image of Tracey being abused by cult leaders started playing like a slideshow in his mind. He really needed to stop these worse case scenarios thoughts. As his therapist said they only led to him acting on impulse and doing things he ultimately would regret. 

A bit too late for that Michael. Your family is gone. Again. And you only have yourself to blame.

Michael almost jumped out of his skin when he felt a tug at his pant leg and realized Evelyn was standing beneath him looking up at him expectingly. He sighed and scooped her up while she played with her Imponant Rage toy from the kid's meal she had gotten. He bounced her up and down on his knee as she giggled and squealed. He glanced over to see Marnie sadly smiling at the scene and Tom practically glaring holes through Michael's forehead. Paige came back from her phone call and said "Alright all set. We ready to head back to Franklin now?"

Michael nodded. "Yup I'm about ready. The kids are getting pretty rambunctious so I think they are about ready too." He stood up and shifted Evelyn to cradle her in his right arm and she buried her face in his neck as Paige walked by. 

Tom and Marnie stood up. "We are as well."

Michael frowned. "You didn't even eat your food."

Marnie shrugged. "We weren't very hungry. You see I-" The door opened and they both jumped and turned to look at a man who looked like a cross between a crack dealer and a pimp walk through the door. 

Michael scooped up the untouched bags and shoved them into both their hands. "Here. Take it for later. You need to eat Marnie. You too Tom."

Tom leered at the bag in his hand. "Yeah whatever."

They rounded up the kids and before they knew it were back at the apartments. Marnie reminded Michael they would be coming back to check on him and all the kids had better have been gone by then. Michael nodded but knew he was leaving with Paige and Franklin as soon as he could.

Paige suggested crashing at Lester's house for now and she could use his databases to track down who was missing what kids to get them back. They took the car Michael had hijacked and left Franklin back at the apartment as he was still asleep and booked it to Lester house. As they pulled up to the curb was when Paige put a hand on his shoulder. 

"Look. I talked with Lester on the phone and...well you know how Lester is..."

"Oh, so that's who you were talking to."

"Look I just don't want to freak him out okay?"

Michael snorted. "What's he got to be freaked out about?"

Paige sighed. "Actually just drop us off here and go to Franklin."

Michael raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"

"Yeah."

Michael still didn't like the idea fully but he trusted Paige and Lester so he would just have to talk with Lester later on. The kids filled out and Michael gave Evelyn one last hug before Paige filled them up to the door but before Paige walked up the steps Michael grabbed her shoulder. 

"I meant what I said Paige. I want you to get out of this life for good. It won't end well for you or your kid. Look at how I turned out. And if you need anything...and I mean anything just reach out to me. I lost my phone somewhere when I got poisoned by a letter but I'll get a new one with the same number and if not there then Lester will always have a way to reach out to me alright?"

Paige smiled sincerely. "Okay. I will try. But you take care of yourself alright?"

"Yeah. I will." He gave her one more assuring squeeze before walking back to the truck. 

"Michael wait-"

3:00 pm, November 12th, 2013, El Gordo lightkeeper's house, Reailty B:

"And that's the story of how the man who tried to get all handsy with me ended up choking on his own hand." Ursula had retold the story for the fifth time since Tanisha and Lamar had been taken by this group of crazies. Lamar recognized Ron but the other ones he didn't really get to know until now. 

The house was nice. Up until Ursula started describing how her mother made her shave her head, dress as a boy and looked her in a basement, how she had an alternate personality named Johnny who came out and screamed at the both of them for no reason, felt the need to go into immense details about her and Trevor's extremely gross and kinky sex life, how a gardener fell off a cliff and this hitchhiker guy choking on his own hand. She had apparently also fucked Franklin before because of course, she did and it was really nice to know how desperate his brother from another mother had gotten when Tanisha left his ass for a fancy doctor up in the city.

Oh and the toe shoes. The damn toe shoes!

She owned a total of twenty pairs all in different colors that Trevor had gotten for her and she explained their symbolism in great detail. Lamar had almost gotten a vase thrown at him when he dared to suggest periwinkle and lavender were the exact same color. Tanisha seemed to entertain the nutcase more than Lamar was. 

"That was quite a story, Ursula. I'm so sorry to hear that happened to you." Tanisha reached out her zip-tied hands and patted Ursula's which were curved around a teacup that had long since run out of tea...because she poured it out all over an unfinished puzzle of the El Gordo Lighthouse that was set on the coffee table beside her because it was "bad and broken just like mama."

Ursula sighed. "Yeah, it was pretty sad but also kind of funny. People are funny when they choke. Lots of choking noises. Lots of choking noises. Lots of choking noises. So sad. So sad. So sad. But funny."

There were other people around as well. 

There was Cletus who looked almost embarrassed that they were there. Apparently he and Trevor did some hunting down in Sandy Shores together. Now that Lamar thought about it Trevor had texted him pictures of the animals they killed and broken satellite dishes...before the whole Franklin pushing Michael to his death thing happened. He was nice enough and mostly tended to the unconscious Moksha who was staying in what was the guest parlor but would come out to the foyer from time to time before going back to tend to Moksha. 

Then there was Chef who didn't say much and just went in and out of the little prairie-like kitchen the house had as the little bit of the slow Wade and two strippers Lamar recognized from the Vanilla Unicorn were cooking. It felt weird to see them in sweaters and sweatpants and with little makeup on but whatever. He had received a permanent ban after Franklin decided to kill Michael and Trevor decided to cut all the homies of Franklin out of his life. 

There had been way too many nights where Lamar had just gone to check on Franklin out of fear that Trevor had killed him or Stretch. 

Fucking Stretch! Couldn't go nowhere in the fucking day without him trying to get the Ballas up Lamar's ass. Fuck! 

Ron mostly confined himself to the outside porch where it was currently raining to talk on the radio and the phone to who knows what. Apparently he had a police scanner or something. 

It only made sense that the crazy dude would have crazier friends. 

Tanisha provided her fair share of stories about what married life to a doctor was like and of course, Ursula was only interested in the bloody stories full of gore and violence. Tanisha didn't seem to mind though. At least not from what she showed on her face. 

But Lamar had to admit the place kind of grew on him. The quiet pitter-patter of the rain against the faded glass and the roof, the soft crackle of the fireplace behind them, the smell of the warm cinnamon and pine candles lite around the house, the smell of buttered crescent rolls and green beans with baked potatoes in the kitchen and the joyous laughter of the two strippers, Wade and Chef laughing and talking. The whole atmosphere was quite...peaceful. Even with Ursula the deranged nightmare telling stories about how she liked plyers on her nipples. 

7:00 pm, November 12th, 2013, Lester's Residence, Reality B:

"So...I thought Paige had lost her mind when she first told me about you being alive but now seeing you is...fuck man." Lester shook his head as he shoved his wheelchair back against the desk and looked deeply at the keys on his several monitors. 

"Innocent ears here." Paige scolded loudly from the other room. She entered but shut the door behind her. 

Michael frowned at the floor. "I'm not dead. I didn't die."

Lester snorted nasally. "Yeah except for that one time nine years ago when you faked your own death..."

Paige looked confused. "Uh what?"

"Yeah, it really is a great story so Michael got this stripper pregnant-"

"Which is a story for another time!" Michael grew tired of Lester's lack of ability to function in social settings. 

"Sorry...this whole thing is overwhelming...it's just...I'm glad your alive...but Jesus man. The whole thing is just fucked up."

Paige sat in one of the rolly chairs and rolled over to where they were sitting and sat with her legs spread out and her clasped hand between her thighs. It was so unladylike and so very Paige. 

Lester sighed. "So I guess we should start with how much of this you remember?"

"Lester I had you over at my house like a week ago. The fuck are you talking about?"

Lester sighed. "Okay. Yeah sure Mikey. Sure."

"This is really starting to get on my fucking nerves. Whatever the fuck Trevor paid you all to play some sick prank on me it's not fucking funny okay. Dude needs to get the fuck over what happened and stop punishing me for something I've already apologized for over seven fucking times and more than made up for!"

"We're just worried about you M."

"Yeah well don't be. Be worried about T when I beat his ass for causing this shit. I know he's fucking behind this."

Lester and Paige looked at each other with a wavey face and then back at Michael. 

"So I guess you remember the UD?" 

"Yes. The fuck why wouldn't?"

"And rescuing Lamar?"

"Franklin's buddy? Yup!"

Lester sighed and rubbed his face. "So I need you to understand something. Franklin was in a tough spot. He had the FIB and Devin Weston and Merryweather and every fucking other group with pissed off under the fucking Los Santos sun on his ass. I don't know how the fuck you're still alive but you better not hurt him."

Michael tried to imagine hurting Franklin but literally nothing came to mind. Except for freak accidents. But intentional?

"You know I have a police scanner right. Some report came on. Said a man had jumped to his death down at the power station but they had yet to confirm the body. Interestingly enough they also talked about one of the security guards getting mowed down by a car just outside. Curiosity got the better of me because who runs over another person when they about to kill themselves you know? No. That guy have to be running from something. So I called up Paige thought we could have a little fun on this one-"

"What he means is he couldn't hack his way out of a paper bag-"

"Yes if you would like to put it that way...anyways we...we expected to see some poor fucker crying like a little bitch but...well..."

Michael frowned. "Well what?"

"What? What? The fuck do you mean what?" Lester turned around and proceeded to tap on the keys to his keyboard while angry calling Michael a liar under his breath. He turned to show the monitors and the screens turned into security footage cameras from a security desk. Not for long though. 

"Les, I-I don't know if you should-"

"Shut up Paige!"

"Eh fuck you but I ain't watching this shit! If he passes out it's your fucking problem! Fucking men! All the fucking damn same!" Paige stormed out of the room and slamed the door behind her for good measure. 

Lester switched the camera angles to show Michael running out of the car with Franklin pulling up in a car chasing after him. Michael ran up onto the catwalk. 

"Shit Michael! Hey man! Where you going?" 

He had to run. He had to leave. He didn't want to watch this but yet his eyes were transfixed to the screen.

"What-what did you just say, Michael?"

Lester was concerned. But it didn't matter. All that mattered was the screen. 

Franklin ascended the stairs after the Michael on the screen. 

"I thought about it man. This is the only way." 

Along the catwalk Franklin went. 

Lester was now moving to turn it off. "Okay. I think this is a bit too much. You're talking nonsense. Paige was right. Let's just turn this off."

Michael pulled Lester's wheelchair back. He stood up and slammed it against the wall and turned back to the screen.

Franklin turned on his flasher. The Michael sent warning shots. 

"Come on out man! Let's do this! You and me! No use of running man! Come out! We'll finish this!" 

The camera switched again. 

"Franklin! You were like a son to me! We both used each other! That's what happened! Oh shit!"

Franklin ran up the stairs. 

"You a snitch okay! You know what that means! Michael man I got to look out for myself! There's the difference between us!!! I was looking out for you!!! Dude. That ain't true! If there was another way man!"

The Michael wasn't even trying to hit him. He couldn't. He couldn't.

Make it stop

Make it stop

Make it stop

He heard a door opening behind him. Paige's voice far and distant. "What's with all the yelling in here?"

Up the striped tower the Michael went. 

"So you going up there huh?"

"He's gone fucking crazy!" Lester called somewhere in the distance. 

Franklin followed. The Michael shot him in the shoulder. He would recover.

Trevor's fault. This was all Trevor's fault. 

"Who put you up to this? Trevor? You're an idiot! We should take him out together! Right now! We'll roll on T! I brought you into my home Franklin!"

"Okay, that's enough. Come on M. We'll-" Michael rolled his arm back and smacked Paige away. Hard. He heard her slam onto the ground. 

Tears. Tears of blood came trickling down his face. All the air was being sucked out of the room. 

Franklin looked around and ran towards Michael who pointed the gun at him. Franklin put his hands up in surrender. 

"Oh shit... Come on you prick! I taught you everything you know! Not everything! I was here long before you and I'll be here after your ass! Oh we'll see about that you fuck! I'll take you every time!"

Franklin ran. Michael shot at him. Not to hit. Never to hit fatally. Only to wound. 

Stop it

Stop it

"Every fucking time! Yeah? Fuckin A right!"

Out of nowhere, Franklin tackled Michael. The gun fell. Franklin was punching him. 

Over and over.

Over and over. 

Over and over.

"I was your bitch!!! I could'a stare down the barrel of your gun any fucking day, you motherfucker. You just keep telling yourself that! It ain't gonna make you feel any better! : Past performance, homie! People don't fucking change!  YOU DID! YOU! Two-bit gangster gone three-bit. And now you're gonna... cap the only one who was ever decent to you! ARGHH!!! No, I trusted you, I took you in, treated you like family!"

Franklin pushes Michael and grabs his hand.

"Michael, let's just... FUCK YOU!  Eh, you told me when the time came. I know! I'm sorry!  You hypocrite! I shoulda clipped you when you broke into my house!  Man, I'm sorry. It's like you said, I understand... YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND NOTHING!!! I'm all you got! You made the wrong call! ARGHHHHH!!! I'll bring you down with me! I'm taking you DOWN!!! You're coming in the ground with me! FRANKLIN! YOU GREEDY PRICK!!!" 

Franklin tried to pull him up but Michael won't

no point

had to 

Down he fell.

The voices in Michael's head became too loud. He covered his ears and screamed at the top of his lungs.

And the world went dark.

Chapter Text

3:00 am, November 10th, 2013, Bilingsgate Motel, Reality A:

Trevor peeled his eyes open to see that he was in a hotel room. Well, that answered two of the five questions he had when he came to consciousness a few minutes ago which were the where and what. Now the other three were going to be a bit of dozy to answer of why, how, and who. 

Well for starters the room was clean which was particularly unusual because many people who had the misfortune of crossing his path had described him as a walking biohazard and a whirlwind of death and destruction so that the fact that the walls were unstained with blood, mucus or even dirt tracks was unusual. He must had fallen asleep upon getting here. 

Another key thing worth noticing was the bed beside him had blankets thrown about and looked like someone had tried to make the bed but had failed in every regard. So he wasn't alone.

Trevor couldn't help but chuckle to himself thinking of a line up of all the possible faces of last night's bad choices. If whoever this was got uppity about it Trevor took comfort in knowing the issues could be easily solved by putting a bullet between their eyes or throw them into the quarry. Either way, the problem would be resolved and it provided an odd sort of comfort as Trevor lay there. 

If that dumbass Michael were here now he would have some sarcastic words of annoyance to impart on the room. Thank God he wasn't here. 

Michael Michael Michael 

Michael was a bit of a massive fucking dork. Trevor had first realized this when he got his hands on Michael's old old old files from Lester. When Mickael was eight he apparently had pissed off his father so much he had gotten beaten within an inch of his life, thrown against several walls, had a glass bottle slammed over his head and was left for dead outside. Michael then crawled as far as he could before he passed out in the snow to get to a phone booth. 

Eventually, he was found by the police almost frozen to death in the snow and was taken to a hospital and then the CPS office. They take your pictures there for evidence. Like you were the criminal. Like you did something wrong. Trevor hated this part. 

Michael apparently loved this part because in every one of the pictures he was grinning ear to ear. His eyes were scrunched up and almost all his teeth were in full view of the camera. At first Trevor was skeptical about how Michael never grew up in any kind of foster home and not once did the mysterious injuries or intense beatings ever got him at least a suspicious look but now he saw why.

Michael was a liar. A really fucking good one who could smile and bullshit his way through anything with his catlike charms and pitch-perfect manipulation. 

He was smiling even as blood was coming down off of his forehead and his face had so many bruises his pale skin almost didn't show through. He was such a cute kid. Such a sweetheart when he was younger. And that was the worst part of it all. How could anyone in their right mind have treated someone who was that cute and that much of a goofball that fucking badly? It wasn't fucking fair. It really wasn't fucking fair. 

He still had the stupid picture in his wallet along with a picture of Franklin and Lamar when they were little ones that he may or may have not stolen when he helped Lester move Franklin's stuff into his new place. He also had that one baby picture of Jimmy sneezing and Tracey attacking grossed out by it. And he had another one of Michael holding Tracey when she was a baby. A one of  Michael and Franklin sitting up on the side of the building after the three of them jumped that money truck and F was being a sarcastic little turd. Franklin could give Michael a run for his money when it came to finding every possible way of being sarcastic as possible. 

He has lots of pictures. But regardless it doesn't matter now.

He takes a deep breath before lifting the covers to evaluate the damage. Rather than seeing the expected torn or missing clothes followed by bruises, cuts, teeth marks, and other suspicious marks that one could only fantom in their worst perverted sexual nightmares, he saw clean pajamas that didn't belong to him. They were white and unstained and smelled like fresh detergent a similar kind to the one Mrs. Madrazo had used on his sheets while they were together for that perfect time in Sandy Shores and the smell brought a tear to his eye to think about his sweet dessert rose in the hands of that animal Martian Madrazo. If he wasn't respectful to her wishes the knife would have missed the fucker's ear and hit his throat before the fool even knew what was happening. 

Another more interesting thing worth noting was that not only did he not have any more cuts or bruises but the ones on his legs were cleaned and bandaged and the scapes on his arms had been healing from the absence of Trevor's dirty nails picking at them. He was also wearing a pair of clean socks that were about a half a size too big but hung comfortably enough at the toes for him to tolerate.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position and turned his head to the nightstand to see that beneath the low setting of the victorian style lamps all his things from his jeans such as his wallet, his pistol, his handgun, pocket knife, keys and other various collectings were neatly lined out in order of size and nothing appeared to be missing. Trevor swipped his wallet and found all the cash, pictures and coupons were in there as well. 

Strange. Real fucking strange. 

He pushed himself out of bed and scooped up his phone to see he had a missed call from Michael and swiped carelessly to the listen to the voicemail of him. No doubt it was because he didn't show up for their outing they had planned for what was now three days ago when Tracey was supposed to be receiving her acceptance to the university. And a missed call from Jimmy, Franklin and an unknown.

"Hey T. Its M. When you get this can you give me a call? It's Franklin. I think something's up." And then there was an ear piercing static noise and a loud banging. Like a body falling over.

"Killing people...maybe it was that asshole Dubose. The fucking hypoctie."

And now for the other messages.

Trevor's face practically cracked in half with the smile as he heard the first voice come through the phone.

Unknown: Hey Trevor! It's Tracey! Guess who just got into university! Anyways call me back as soon as you can because like we need to go over what you are going to be wearing to my college party and I don't want you to scare my friends with your weird smelly hipster clothing. Alright! Love Ya! BYE!"

Michael was going to pay for that. But I'm was going to let it slide because Tracey was finally getting her act together. Thank God!

Jimmy: "Hey Uncle T it's Jizzle! Just wanted to see if you had seen my dad recently. You were the last person he tried to call and my mom is majorly freaking out because there was like blood and stuff all over the steps. Also if you see Uncle Les could you please tell him to stop tea bagging me in Righteous Slaughter it is really killing the whole gameplay and sucks ass. Anyway holla at ya later."

Well that was disturbing.

Franklin: Hey T it's F. Just wanted to see how you were doing. Haven't seen you since the whole Lamar getting us both arrested thing and I just wanted to make sure you weren't dead or in like another reality or something. Also, I really need to talk to you. Michael isn't answering his phone and everything is...I just hope you're okay and...I just...I really need you here man."

Franklin asking for help. Oh fuck something is going on.

The phone rang before someone finally picked up. "Hello?"

"Hey Frank it's your Uncle T!"

He heard Franklin sighed one of those Michael sarcastic sighs. "For the last time don't call yourself that around me."

Trevor just laughed at that. He was waaaay to much like Michael. "Hey kid, so you called me and sounded a little bit like...werid...I guess..."

He heard Frank take a deep breathe in over the phone. "Yeah man...it's just...I messed up T...real bad."

"Okay. What did you do this time?"

There wasn't a response right away. Just a soft sniffle. 

Franklin was...crying?

"Hey, kid...it's okay. Whatever it was we can fix it. Have you spoken to Michael about it?"

"No man. I shouldn't even be talking to you right now."

"Okay ouch. Frank you really are becoming the new Michael."

"That's not funny T."

"Sorry. Look...I'll call Michael and then we'll meet up some place-"

"No! Don't call him!"

"Franklin, what the hell is going on?"

"Nothing man."

"Really? Because it sounds like you're crying?"

"What? I'm not-"

"It's perfectly natural to cry Frankie. Don't let the sexually repressed Los Santos get to you like some people I know. And by some people I mean Michael."

He heard Franklin chuckle. "Man, have you walked around the mall lately? I think I saw more lower cut shirts than at the Vanilla Unicorn and that is saying something."

Trevor couldn't help but laugh at that. "Yeah, that's saying something. Look. You should really talk to Michael. He may be a fucking snake and an asshole who really deserves to be shot in the back of the head military style but...he cares about you a lot and since you can't be straight with me then maybe you can be straight with him."

"I don't know about that-"

"Well, I do. He was worried about you and I think you talking to him will help you..."

"I...I have a question. For you..."

"Alright shoot."

"Um...so back in Midwest...if Michael had told you he was going to betray you but didn't go through with it...what would you have done?"

His adrenaline picked up at that. "What? What do you mean? What did you hear? What did Michael say?"

"I...no. I was just using an example in a hypothetical scenario. Completely fake."

"Oh thank God and you can't just go around saying shit like that FRANKLIN! I love you but if you did that again...well you know what will happen..."

"Yeah. Look man...just stay safe alright."

"Can't count on that but I'll try for you and if you see that asshat Michael tell him to stop making strangled noises into the phone."

 "Okay...sure man."

Trevor can't help but smile a bit when the dial tone comes through. He loves that kid. He is about to call Michael when he hears the doorknob rattle behind him as what is presumably the key going in. Trevor gets on the defensive ready to either fuck this person's brains out or beat them with the pretty lamps inches away from his fingers. 

All the fight gets sucked out of him when he sees Michael on the other side of the door holding a bag of Chinese takeout. There is surprise in those blue eyes before it turns to disinterested tiredness as he gives Trevor a once over with his eyes. 

"Oh good. You're awake." He walks into the room and puts the takeout on the small table by the tv. Trevor notices the 24/7 symbol of the 24/7 Chinese Restaurant takeout. He is 99% sure he fucked the owner's daughter in that one three he had in the back storage freezer where they keep the dried out noodles and frozen dumplings. He almost froze his fucking dick off. 

But Michael...

Michael looks terrible. 

There are dark circles under his eyes, his pupils blown out by some sort of drug, his arms aren't steady as he starts slowly pulling the stereotypical food out of the box and placing it on the table. He is also wearing one of his overcoats despite it being God knows how hot out. Then again Michael has always like his expensive fucking jackets, his designer suits, his sweet expensive  man perfume that should be a crime to sell at a price that high. 

"Well aren't you going to say something?" Michael snaps at him.

"No sugar. Just woke up. Give me a fucking second. Jesus."

He rubs his eyes to solidify the effect and Michael just rolls his. He then starts setting some noodles out on the side of the other chair and looks over at Trevor. "Well don't just stand there. Get some food in you."

Trevor stomach groans at the idea of having to stomach some cheap overprocessed food but eventually decides on sitting down. "You seemed surprised to see me awake Michael. Drug me or something?"

Michael chuckles a bit at that as he gets his own food out and unceremoniously tosses some plastic ware in Trevor's direction which he catches with ease. "Not exactly."

Michael turns to throw the spare bags away and drops some in the process and bends down to pick them up to throw away causing his jeans to nicely outline his ass in great detail. Trevor bites the inside of his cheek and enjoys the view from afar wondering if Michael was in the mood to do that tonight. He can almost see himself unzipping those jeans and sliding them off to see Michael's blue boxers beneath. He always wears blue boxers. At least Trevor has some variety in his underwear wardrobe. Fucking rich pompous asshole-

The meal is awkward as fuck and Michael doesn't say much except to whine about Trevor not eating and shoving more and more food in his direction. He doesn't eat much either. Just picks at his food and keeps nervously looking up at Trevor. It's probably the drugs. It isn't until Trevor looks up with a mouth full of noodles to see Michael full-on staring at him with a lost expression that it starts to really get on his fucking nerves. 

"For the-what?"

Michael snaps out of whatever that was and looks him in the eyes. "What?"

"Why the fuck do you keep looking at me like that? Don't tell me I got soy sauce coming out of my nose or something."

"No. No it's just...I can't believe it worked. I can't believe you're actually here...I missed you man...I missed you a lot actually."

Trevor raises an eyebrow at that. They literally just had drinks three days ago but Michael always gets clingy when he's high or on drugs. He snorts at the memory of the drunk phone call Michael gave him after THE apology and how uncharacteristically sweet Michael had been. Michael was easy to manipulate especially when his guilt was concerned. 

"I know you don't believe me but...I did. I regret...I regret...everything. I shouldn't have...and I know you must be pretty pissed at me."

Trevor rolls his eyes. "Yeah, it's whatever bro. Water under the bridge."

Michael's shoulders relax at that and his face softens. They go back to eating and Michael goes to throw out the remnants of the food in the dumpster and for a smoke as Trevor takes a piss and snoops around the hotel room. He finds the old clothes he was wearing before neatly folded and washed by the sink as he's washing his hands so Michael doesn't bitch about him smelling like piss. Fucking asshole. He is surprised to find Michael's clothes in the drawers and some of his dirty laundry in the corner. Trevor picks up a shirt and sniffs in the scent of Michael's sweat. 

He throws the wrinkled shirt down and pretends to be picking at some loose paint on the wall when he hears Michael's heavy footsteps outside and looks over his shoulder to see Michael come bumbling in with less grace than a hippo on ice skates. 

That was so fucking stupid. God damn, I need to stop hanging out with Franklin-

Michael surprised Trevor by walking over to him and slowly moving his fingers across Trevor's collarbones. "I missed you T. I missed you a lot."

Back to the North Yankton talk again. It should make Trevor mad but-with the way Michael is looking at him he could care less.

Then Michael moves his fingers up Trevor's throat and lays his palm against his cheek. The warmth goes straight down into Trevor's chest and gets his heart a-fluttering. He closed his eyes and pressed into it. 

Michael's thumb caresses his cheek and runs along a scar beneath Trevor's eye. It's nice. It's really fucking nice. 

When he peers open his eyes he notices Michael's face has red streaks coming down from his eyes and cascading down his cheeks were the ineffable drop off point for the moisture is at that strong masculine jawline of his. It takes a second to process that Michael is crying. 

Trevor reaches for him and pulls him closer. So close. Until there is only space between their mouths. His hand falls softly on the small of Michael's back and his other is brushing his knuckles softly against the side of Michael's heavy coat pushing aside the fabric to reveal a sliver of that pale soft wrinkled skin. 

This wasn't new territory for them as Trevor thinks fondly back to that time in Sandy Shores after he had almost fallen out of the sky and to his death and came home high on energy. Laying eyes on Michael had made him angry. So fucking angry. 

Michael of course went to sleep outside every night. Mainly because Trevor kicked him out at 9 pm on the dot. Making a big show of it too. He always was such an attention seeker. Normally the whole depressive blame everyone for all his choices mood that followed Michael like a dark storm cloud was an annoyance but at that time seeing Michael slowly crack under the pressure and start to show his true colors to the world as he was breaking and falling apart like paper in the ocean was a tad bit satisfying Trevor had to admit. A bit of universal poetic justice for fucking everyone over and lying to everyone and causing everyone around him untold misery and pricking self-doubt Trevor liked to think. 

Mrs. Madrazo was there and Michael....fucking Michael was in Trevor's room sitting on his bed stinking the place up with his lies and false promises and guilt and hypocrisy. He was on the phone with his therapist and talking about how bad Trevor was. Of course, he was blaming Trevor for all his sufferings because why the hell not. If he wasn't going to take responsibility for his actions he would blame the only ones who were here for him now. Trevor remembers being pissed but not showing it as he makes sure Mrs. Madrazo is nicely tucked in and has the softest pillow in Sandy Shores under her head before he goes to confront the pest now lingering way too close to the box of old polaroids of the olden days Trevor keeps in a shoebox above his mountains of dirty laundry.

Michael throws the phone on the bed, punches the wall, and swears when it hurts him back.  He's been drinking. Trevor can tell. But then again he has been downing every bit of alcohol he can find in Trevor's trailer and in the town store nearby like it's fucking water but what else is new. Trevor remembers how he jumped up when Trevor slammed the door and the hushed fight they had about Michael's deceitfulness and Trevor's disgusting trailer and even more appalling recent choices in activities to amuse himself. Then Michael had grabbed his shirt and pulled him close as he screamed directly in Trevor's face to which Trevor had just smiled like a cat back and took it like the psychopath he was only fully to Michael's anger before...before-

In present Trevor closes the gap between them and kisses Michael teeth first. He isn't gentle but it isn't animalistic either. Somewhere in the middle where he knows Michael just can't resist. He unzips the overcoat with ease and shoves it off of Michael's broad quarterback shoulders before working on the buttons of Michael's fancy shirt all without letting up with his mouth. 

Michael likes to dress in layers. Trevor fucking hates it. He never dresses like a pompous reptile as Michael does. A simple dirty shirt and jeans suits him just fine. He pulls off the pajama shirt and throws it over the two beds with ease to show his point. His tattoos are in full display now and Michael is moving his meaty hands up his bare stomach like he's rubbing oil on the back of some prissy rich blonde's ass in one of those fancy pornos that were filmed in Michael's Rockford Hills Mansion. He untucks Michael's shirt from his jeans and undoes the last two buttons as he moves his lips down Michael's salty cheeks and his sweaty neck. He then pulls Michael down into the bed.

Down on top of himself and yanks the wifebeater up and over Michael's head and throws it behind him. He runs his free hand up Michael's back and feels the wincing the muscles under the skin gives as he runs his fingers to the neck. 

And that's when Trevor sees the bruises. 

And holy fuck are there a lot of them. Fresh too judging on the fact that Michael is flinching whenever Trevor's fingers barely graze the skin. 

Michael is kissing Trevor's neck too occupied to see Trevor's eyes wide with concern when he also sees how much weight Michael has lost.

He runs his fingers through Michael's hair and feels cuts there. Fresh cuts. 

What the fuck? Retired my ass-

"Where did you get these licks, Mikey?"

He turns to face Trevor and that's when Trevor notices the horrid bruises on the right side of his face and the tattered broken skin on his knuckles. He hears Michael sigh annoyingly as he glances over the bruises lining his skin. 

"Franklin almost got himself killed by some asshole named Stretch down in the West Coast. I stepped in to make sure that didn't happen and ended up beating him to death. And a few of his other gang buddies. They won't mess with him again that's for sure."

"Wait. Stretch? I thought you took care of him."

He feels Michael's air from his laugh hit his cheek. "Yeah. I did. Where the fuck do you think I got these warrior wounds from?"

"Yeah but...fuck never mind."

He goes back to kissing Michael and is pulling his jeans down. 

Blue boxers. Michael always wears blue boxers.

                                                                                                                            *

"This is fucking  BULLLSHIT!" Devin was sure to emphasize the last part before slamming his hands down onto the table. "Clean records? Clean records for both of them? Unfucking believable!"

Steve nodded but didn't look him in the eye. He seemed more preoccupied with playing with his watch rather than focusing on the seriousness of what this whole thing meant. 

"I mean they have had clean records for the past two months. Dave made sure of it and they both did kill that psychotic bastard-"

"Did they though? I'm not fucking buying it!"

Steve looked up and rolled his eyes. "Yes, they did. I went to the morgue. I saw it for myself."

"And now this pathetic pansy-ass football jock movie quoting shit lord is just allowed to roam the streets of Los Santos without any surveillance!"

"Well I won't say that...the FIB won't trust Townley to go straight if he put a fucking telephone pole up his ass."

"And the other one?"

"Who? Franklin? Yeah, that's...kind of...complicated..."

Devin rubbed his palms over his eyes and growled lowly. 

"Complicated how?"

"Well..."

"Well what? You don't think that I know about the whole deal between him and Townley?"

"Look it isn't anything to be concerned about-"

Devin leered at Steve. "Nothing to be concerned about? Townley and him fucking annihilated the ballas and shoot Harold right between the eyes and there is nothing to be concerned about?"

"Well I mean you did tell me to send Stretch after Franklin and his other idiot friend-"

"So now this whole thing is my fault?"

"No, it's not. It's nobody's fault." Steve sighed. "Look you're right. I should've known better. Townley wasn't too keen on the whole having to help Frank kill Trevor but at the end of the day they still are crimminal associates. I should have been keeping a better eye on them. I just figured since we had Jospeh in that tight spot with the police around there that a plea deal to take out Franklin would go down smoothly. I should have seen-"

Devin puts up a hand to stop him. "No. I should have seen. You're right. I just hate them you know? I would do anything to see De Santa's brains out on the concrete and that jumped up motherfucker at the bottom of the ocean. I would do anything to have his family decapitated and their heads outside of my mansion for all to see that you don't fuck with Devin Weston."

Steve smiles lewdly and stands to stalk behind Devin's chair before whispering erotically his ear "Anything?"

Devin can't help but smile right back as he smacks away Haines's wandering hand. "Not like that. Pervert." It's fond though. Too fond.

Devin knows why Franklin isn't dead and he also knows why Townley hasn't met his fatal end yet. He's not stupid. He knows that Steve has some kind of twisted fondness for Franklin and despises Michael but all the same doesn't want to risk drawing any more attention to himself. They did, after all, kill Trevor in a brutal and cinematic fashion and Franklin was still very much on the puppet strings of Haines still but Devin had wanted Michael dead though he supposed that it could wait for now. 

It had been difficult these past two months after Merryweather lost their license to work in the US because some random people from TP Industries and othe gangs from far and wide had come forward and compiled evidence against him and had taken down the entire operation and Weston just knew in his soul that those three cunts had something to do with this or at thhe very least Michael did. 

"He's up to something. I feel it in my bones." 

Steve raised an eyebrow as he sat on Devin's desk and clocked his head to stare at his face from an uneven angle."Who?"

"De Santa. Who else?"

Steve actually had the audacity to laugh at him. "Okay, now you are just being paranoid."

"No, I'm serious. Did you know that I sent out one of my private investigators the other day and she found that he had visited the Epsilon center three times last week? Three. Times."

"So? Guy has a right to religion. First amendment and all that."

"I guess. I just don't like the feeling of this. One bit."

"So he's got a bit of weird belief system. What's the worst they are gonna do? Take all his money and promise him kraft or some shit like that? In all honesty that seems like a better punishment than anything we could have ever divulged."

"You know there have been rumors going around that they can raise people from the dead right?"

"Yeah them and every other crazy motherfucker who claims to be from a divine power."

"But the private investigator saw them carrying out something in a sheet."

"Yeah like a canvas or a camera or some shit. Or maybe it was one of those boxes that can read the future? Seriously Devin get a grip. Nothing is going on. If something was going on my boys would have already found out about it. This guy has got more fuzz on him than a bee hive."

"I just...I feel like something is going on."

"Trust me. Nothing is going on."

"But you didn't see them like I did."

"What do you mean?"

"They were all campy and cozy together. Like a family or some shit. Almost like...they loved each other."

"They're criminals. They won't know what the word love meant if I shoved it up their assholes. They were playing for your emotions to get cash just like they always do."

"Then how come the De Santa family has gone missing then?"

"They're not missing. We know exactly where they are. Japan. Apparently Townley wanted them to go scout out some locations for a new kung fu movie Richards wants to put on."

Devin grinded his teeth when he remembered that whole incident with Richards, Molly and De Santa. Fucking prick should be buried under the jail for fucking up his plans.

Haines rubbed the balding spot on the back of Weston's head affectionatlly. "Trust me. You're safe. I will make sure of that."

Then the familar buzz of Steve's watch symbolized the end of their meeting. "Oh would you look at the time. I got to be heading down to Sandy Shores. We got a lead on one of the main leaders of the Vagos there. Tonights episode is going to be a real dozy that is for sure."

Devin reached out and grabbed Steve's wrist rubbing small circles with his thumb. "Please be careful. You know I don't like you putting yourself in danger like this. It makes me worried."

"In danger? Please. You need to relax. There is nothing dangerous going on here. Vagos are a level C minus at best. We're still on for tonight right?"

Devin smiled softly at that. "Yes. Just be careful."

"I will."

Devin watched him go before turning back to De Santa's file to try to get an idea where his family was staying.

                                                                                                                                              *

Michael is kind of cute when he sleeps. At least Trevor thinks so. It is one of the only times he doesn't look stressed or pissed off or depressed. It's nice watching him sleep like this. His eyes are shut softly and his mouth is slacked open with a small pool of drool dripping out of his soft lips. Trevor leans forward and gives him a soft kiss on his sweaty forehead before turning to turn off the lamps beside them on the nightstand. 

He winces when a sudden shock of pain runs up his arm as though somebody just smacked him with a hot poker on his forearm. (won't be the first time) He turned his arm over to find a large burn like injury there and looked around confused. 

The fuck?

He looks back to Michael who is still fast asleep acutely unaware that his best friend has just been assaulted by some invisible force. Typical Townley.

He shrugs and turns off the lights and snuggles up to Michael's chest as Michael unconsciously puts an arm around Trevor's bare shoulders and pulls him closer. Michael is breathing heavy but he isn't full-on snoring. Trevor rests his ear against Michael's chest as he snoozes on and listens to the soft heartbeat there. A heartbeat not long ago he thought he would never hear again. 

Okay, that was nice, Trevor had to admit that it was nice. 

No fuck scratch that it was better than nice. It was...like finally itching a scratch in a hard to reach place until the discomfort finally subsides.

Yeah. That was what that was like.

Exactly like that. 

So getting into a fight and then having angry sex with his friend who was in some shady dealings with the FIB who hid out while he literally thought he was dead for nine years and then after all that was still trying to blame him for everything was exactly that. 

They can't kill each other so they will just have to settle for this instead. 

Even now as Michael was unconsciously wrapped around his midriff like some sort of python in the middle of the jungle he felt suddenly less alone and calmer about dealing with the entire situation. He watched Michael for a few moments like this and let the soft air from his nostrils hit his bare stomach without so much as moving an inch. He won't move an inch for Michael. 

Trevor folded his arms behind his head and hummed thoughtfully thinking of how much he had missed this. Most of the people he fucked nowadays he really didn't have an emotional connection with like that one creepy realtor's wife that had tried to screw him over or that one prostitute who held him on a building high above Los Santos when he decided to go on a bender after discovering his friend was not actually dead and instead very much alive in witness protection, were insane and incapable of giving him anything other than sexual kinky pleasure like Ursula (God bless her crazy ass) or owed himself in the realm of business like Ashley who traded sex for meth or that one police officer. Then of course he had all those prostitutes who were regulars for him or platonic sweethearts like Floyd and now the sweet Mrs. Madrazo. Then of course there was Wade who wasn't above indulging Trevor in a clothed jerk off session who would probably fall under one of his more loyal of the sexual encounters he had and then of course there was Ron who was...well...Ron. 

It was nice to know he had so many potential suitors dogging for his ass when Michael probably had none since he liked to stay inside all day on his fat ass yelling at his kids, arguing with his wife and watching those fucking old movies that made Trevor want to blow someone's brains out because they were so boring. The thought made him smile smugly down at the late and not so great Michael Townley who was currently drooling all over his stomach like a fish out of water. He leaned over and shut off the light. 

He slept pretty peacefully until Michael started to talk in his sleep. 

Which he was also doing in the present. 

Trevor's eyes snapped open in annoyance. 

He wasn't really speaking comprehensively and Trevor could only make some of the words. 

Trevor elbowed Michael in the knee and got an aggravated groan in response. "Michael shut the fuck up."

Slowly Michael's eyes opened halfway and he groaned out a belated "What?"

"You're sleep talking again. Shut up!"

Michael grumbled something that had a "fuck you" somewhere in there as he adjusted himself back to sleep and dropped his arm over Trevor's face.

Trevor sighed in annoyance before shoving the offending arm off of him and turning to sleep against him.

                                                                                                                                          *

Deciding what to wear without Molly here was way more difficult now. Sure the new assistant was doing her best but she just wasn't Molly. Devin made a mental note to have a hitman sent after De Santa with sharp boots to stop on his precious and perfect Vinewood face. Who the fuck did that smug prick even think he was anyway? Killed his best assistant and now Devin had to suffer the inconivence of attempting to remember what to wear to Steve's house based upon a rigorous set of rules surrounding her permanent condition of ongoing dementia. 

"Don't wear any bright colors but don't wear black either. I don't want her to think that I am getting her ready for a funeral just yet. Also, don't wear white because she had a really bad experience with a nursing home staff member a few years back. I don't want her to think that I have gotten tired of her and am sending her away. She's my mom my responsibility. You understand right?"

He didn't but he decided to just go along with whatever Steve laid out in front of him. They were friends after all. Sort of. It was complicated. 

What he did get though was the need to want everything to be perfect and perfectly laid out. That was what he liked about Haines. Always so precise and perfect and laid out to the point. But yet for all that planning and perfection and stamina, he could be a real dmbass at times.

uDevin had meant it when he said he won't even hire Steve to work in a clothing store It wasn't that he thought Steve won't be good at folding clothes or didn't necessarily know how to do his job. He meant it as an insult to his intelligence. 

But on the other hand Steve was the only people who was dumb enough to treat Devin like a...well like a real human being. It sounded werid but the fact of the matter was being surrounded by yes man his entire life had become boring and having someone who was the equivalent of a brain dead jock who was more than willing to invite Devin into his home was somewhat satifying even if they had good business dealings and exchanges as well. 

There was something about Steve that had captured Devin's eye and it wasn't the prissy patriotic fever that followed him around like a dog to a shadow but rather his genuine pursuits to succeed. 

Way too many people nowadays were so boring and content with just being a clog in the machine. They never wanted to expand upon their goals or make a difference rather the questions behind said difference were ethical or not was in question. Way too many people were just content to sit on their ass all day and not bat an eye when it came to the various opputunities life provided them. 

That being said what Steve was pursing was idiotic and overzealous at best and even the worst psychiatrist could see the end goal was less than selfless but at the same time Devin couldn't help but admire the lengths at which the man would go to pursue the end goal in mind. And that goal was to take down the big bad wolf that is government corruption by any means necessary. 

Even thinking of that made Devin want to laugh into the endless void that was his second upstairs closet in his Los Santos summer home which had become more of a permanent residence as of late due to unforeseen circumstances (mainly due to a certain trio of trouble makers) but at the same time he should be forever grateful that the any means necessary part had lead Steve to his doorstep. He remembered it like it was yesterday. Steve had attended the meeting and complained about the wood furnishing in the hotel they were staying at along with the other persons of interest directly to Devin's face without realizing it was him. Everyone else had complimented him on the wood furnishing so it came as a bit of a surprise someone was being so upfront and honest with him for a change. 

And it wasn't like Steve was wrong. After all Devin had told Big Al's Furniture several times that no one was going to get the spiritual feel of the Native American tribe feeling the hotel was going for and that the furtinture had looked more like someone had taken different colored shits and smudged them all over wooden pallets rather than high end and sophisticated modern furniture for a classy upscale hotel chain Devin had just purchased and for shits and giggles had decided to change the entire forte around last minute just to watch the underpaid staff run around like ants attempting to put everything in perfect place before the grand opening. Then he had been invited to join their group of FIB officers for a nice coffee at the disgusting low end Bean Machine. 

It was exciting and all the more interesting to get to see how the low lives of the world lived. He didn't even need to take any of the Merryweather Security Guards who frankly had been quite getting on his nerves for the time being.

And all that passion. That vigor. 

One would have thought Steve was discussing sports rather than international terrioist threats with the way his blue eyes lite up. 

And then there was that shameless full tooth smile. Rows and rows of teeth that were so pearly white one would probably go blind from staring too deeply into the rows of caines in the bright sun. Steve had a loud voice that had no regard for other people's eardrums, could command an entire room with a single threat and was pompous and prideful as fuck. All the qualities that were way more attractive than Devin would have ever thought possible. 

That smile. That damn smile. 

Every. Single. Damn. Time.

Now Steve had his flaws of course. One was his overzealous pursuit of seeing the entire world in black and white and sometimes in the literal sense as well. What Steve never seemed to understand was there were varying degrees on evil and ethics. Devin knew this better than anyone. If he had a penny for every terrorist dictator he had sold weapons to as well as Merryweather troops...

It wasn't about what was right or wrong. It was about how much you could control others.

Devin had the power to assassinate anyone he wanted. He could start another world war right from his living room and watch the show from his pool deck if he wanted to. He had thousands of dollars that he could spend to save an entire population with vaccination or have them all killed by assassination. Which is why it pissed Devin off so much that Steve had insisted Trevor die rather than Michael. 

Trevor was a disgusting mad man who smelled like the sewers on the west coast rather than an actual human being, insisted on making aggrasive sexual advances to every adult that breathed within a five mile radius and was either high, drunk or subdued and about as much use to him as a cat on catnip. 

But....he had his uses. And better yet was easy to control. Just like handling a wild bull back when he was in Texas. Just had to watch out for the horns. Plus his...unique...stature allowed for full evasion of guilt for the both of them. Devin used crazy fuckers all the time to handle business. There was a man like Trevor once. He was from the mental asylum from the Ivory Coast. Saw hallucinations and shit. He would do whatever the fuck Devin wanted whether it be delivering paperwork to the Vagos or trading illegal drugs to the shady pharmecitical company from China to that hospital out in Sandy Shores where methheads would pay through the nose to get illegal opioids. His name was Jacob or Jessie or Jospeh or something like that. All Devin had to do was provide him with the right drugs and women and he was practically a golden retriever for Devin. 

That was until he drowned himself in a puddle after getting so drunk he could hardly stand. Oh well. Circle of life and what not. 

No one gave a shit about Jacob or James or whatever the fuck his name was just like no one gave a shit about Trevor or Franklin or Lamar. 

Or so he had thought. 

Now that press De Santa on the other hand...OH FUCK! That man and all his charm and fake personality and secret identities and connections and whatever the fuck else was extremely problematic. Worst part was was that he had given Devin problems at every single fucking turn. Trevor may have been a creepy motherfucker and Franklin may have been an jumped up punk but neither of them had given Devin any problems UNTIL Michael came into the picture. And then on top of that decided to go and put his best fucking assistant through a plane turbine and then had the audacity to act like it was an accident that he had nothing to do with. 

Bull. Shit. 

Devin was 100% certain that the airport footage of her death was altered by those conspiring against him and working for De Santa. 

In more recent events Michael had decided to get whoever the fuck to send his family to "Japan" for a "movie set scooping project." And of course, Steve had eaten it up like it was porridge. But Devin knew for a fact they weren't in Japan because the hitman he had sent there to kill them couldn't find them and ended up accidentally killing some white fisher's family instead. He almost lost it when the heads that were set on his dining table barely matched the description of the Da Santa family.

He also knew that Franklin wasn't in his house. Neither was Michael or that annoying tattooed asshole. They were all missing too. 

The only thing that was left  was the hitman Devin had hired to take out that punk hanging from the ceiling with a bullet between his eyes and a not so sublte note pinned to his chest complete with a movie quote from An American Divorce and a little smiling face with the Da Santa signature. On top of that the note had detailed about how Devin was a coward for not coming to try and take Franklin out himself and that he would kill Devin with his bare hands and a machete if he came near Franklin or sent any of his buddies after him. Beforehand Devin had sent two hitman after Michael and both came back in literal body bags to Devin's doorstep with bullets between their eyes. 

Brown jacket. He would wear brown. The cab was already here. Fuck. 

Devin lived in fear of Michael De Santa and he would never admit this to anyone not even Steve himself. He had had way too many graphic nightmares of that psychopath breaking into his home and strangling him or beating him with a hammer or burying him alive. Creepy motherfucker. 

The last time he had seen the asshole had been when Devin had begrudgingly taken his best bodyguard and gone down to Vinewood Hills to give Franklin the money for his cars after some asshat hackers who were friends of De Santa had shut off all the water in his house, changed the wifi passwords to all the Banner hotels and spas in the San Andreas area and of course somehow found that one of the owners of the most profitable bar in Vice City that Devin owned apparently had child porn on his computer and decided to send it to everyone in the entire district until a gang of bikers came and beat the man to death and the entire business had lost its liquor license. They threatened to do more damage if he didn't pay Franklin the money he apparently was owed. Michael had been there standing behind Franklin with a double-barrel shotgun over his shoulder and his arms crossed giving Devin the most demonic of death stares and barking orders to Devin like he owned the place. Fucking prick. 

"Make slow movements. Don't try anything or I swear to God the only thing that you will be tonight is fish food." 

It was fucking from that Meltdown movie because of course it fucking was. Devin gritted his teeth to prevent himself from saying something too smart and   pulled out the bills in his jacket pocket. He had been tempted to lace the bills with something but was secretly glad he hadn't. He handed them over to Franklin who was currently looking nervously between the two of them.

Michael pulled out a flashlight from his back pocket and handed it to Franklin. Devin didn't miss the way Michael's face had softened when he looked at Franklin. "Make sure you count all the bills."

Franklin finished counting them as Michael continued to glare a Devin while Devin had attempted to match his posture. 

Was Michael always this tall? It brought some comfort to Devin to know that Steve had almost two inches on De Santa. 

"Is it all there?"

Franklin nodded sheepishly towards Michael before looking down at his feet and pocketing the money. 

"We're here Mr.Weston." 

Steve's mother's home where he currently resided was modest to put it nicely and it bothered Devin to know he lived so close to the men he arrested and put on live television. Devin stepped up through the freshly mowed grass up to the walkway where color coded flowers lined the porch. He knocked on the door to which Steve was on the other side beaming. 

"You made it!" Steve bounded out of the doorway like a big oversized baby and scooped up Devin like a rag doll and swung him around. 

"Okay! Okay! Okay! Stop!" 

Steve complied immediately by setting Devin back down but still was grinning at him like a huge fucking idiot and showed him inside. It smelled like old lady perfume and medical tools. The house was old fashioned and pictures lined the walls. Everything was to be expected neatly polished and percisly in place. Steve's dad in a war uniform was on the top of the wall and was the biggest out of the entire collection. Glaring over the group like he had for his entire life. To add insult to injury the picture directly parallel to the portrait was the school picture of Steve with a broken nose and badly covered bruises all over his face and broken glasses across the bridge on his nose. 

Steve had been in the second grade in that picture and had made the mistake of getting in-between one of the many many domestic disputes between his mother and father and came to school the next day with a broken nose, a broken wrist and bruises. His teacher had been concerned that people would start asking questions if the golden boy looked like he had just come out of anger rehab in the class photos and as a result had taken Steve to the bathroom and pulled out her make-up bag from her purse and went to work. Later Steve would be taken to the school nurse's office after he "fell on the playground and broke his wrist."

Devin flinched in sympathy. His own father had decided to turn Devin's back into his own personal punching bag too. He knew how it felt to get hit at that age and knew it couldn't have felt much better for Steve. Devin was lost on memories of the good old days of belts and hair pulling that he hadn't even noticed that he was in bathroom that looked more like the bathroom in a doll horror film. 

"Don't forget to wash your hands. Use the disinfectant soap."

"I know Steve. Like every time I come here I know."

"But I got new stuff this time." Steve lifted a bottle of pink liquid and limited in his face to prove the point. "Supposed to help reduce germs by 99% instead of 98% like the last stuff."

Devin raised an eyebrow. "So super germs? Great."

"Enough with the sarcasm!" Somewhere off on the distance a timer beeped. "Oh that's the chicken lasanaga. Better go attend to it before it burns. The crust burns so easily."

Steve bounded up out of the doorway as Devin began lavendering up his hands and smiling to himself knowing he was the only person from the outside world who got to see a decorated corrupt FIB agent dress up with a floral apron and kitten oven mitts like some sitcom dad. Lasagna. They always had fucking lasagna every time Devin came here and the only dinner Steve had ever since his mom's illness had gotten worse. She loved lasagna and often couldn't remember the last time she had had it. When Devin expressed concern over her becoming sick after eating the same food every night Steve had waved him off by highlighting how it made her happy and he just wanted to see her happy. 

After carefully washing his hands so Steve won't throw a fit he came out of the bathroom in time to see Steve helping Mrs. Haines into a chair at the modest dining room near the shrine to the late Mr. Haines. It took everything in his power not to knock it over when he walked past it. Mr. Haines was an asshole who reminded Devin of his own father. Devin's parents had been stuffed in a nursing home somewhere out of sight and out of mind. He didn't even try and make sure it was a bad nursing home or anything. Just one that won't call him about the various complications of whatever struggles his parents were having in their old age that Devin could have honestly cared less about. He was nothing but a disappointment to them anyways. 

However when Steve's father had fallen ill he had taken care of him just like his mother because "he was a war hero" and the last time Devin had brought up the abusive elephant in the room about having a shrine dedicated to an abusive PTSD ridden alcoholic Steve had kicked him out and didn't call or speak with him for three months. One of Steve's greatest flaws in Devin's eyes was his Boy Scout golden boy attitude about everything and how that tainted his perfectionist persona. He had to be the perfect FIB agent, the perfect athlete, the perfect host and the perfect son but it gave him the most stuck up annoying attitude and persona as well that made him unbearable to be around most of the time. 

Devin had hoped that by sharing that Steve would have seen the light and decided to dump his abusive mother off in a home too but instead he was going to be visiting his parents in three days with Steve. 

"Mom look whose here to see you!" Steve brought Devin into the room as though he was covered in gold and jewels. His mom clapped her hands together and squealed. 

"Oh my! What a treat to have Devin Weston in my home!" 

Devin smiled politely as was customary every night he came here and sat down across from Steve and his mother. 

"Look mom I made your favorite."

"Ah! Lasagna! I can't remember the last time I had lasagna."

The evening of course ended with some chocolate pudding (Mrs. Haines favorite dessert) and a look through some of her old picture books. It was the green book. Devin hated the green book for one particular reason. 

"And here's when Stevie lost the state championships in the 400 meter dash. The whole town was riding on him to win and he just blew it. My husband gave him a well deserved punishment after that."

Devin balled his fists up and clenched his teeth. Before he had lost Molly he could afford to say some mean words and be cut off from Steve for a few months but now...without Steve he would have nobody. The problem with money is it could get you power but it couldn't bat away your loneliness which Devin knew all too well. 

Next time he saw De Santa it had better be him looking at him in a body bag.

The next page was Steve high school yearbook photos one of which had him running on the field with his back to the camera in which red stripes across his shoulders and back were peaking through his white track jersey.

Finally...Finally...Finally...

Mrs. Haines was put to bed and Steve and Devin were free to discuss some business over tea in cat mugs. Devin can't help but hold back a snicker as Steve handed him the pink mug with sparkly black whiskers with a small S of steam coming out of it and sitting across from him in the big chair holding the mug with both his hands like a grandfather. 

Steve apparently saw it and raised an eyebrow towards Devin. "What?"

Devin shook his head and took an innocent sip of the mint green tea before responding with a "Nothing."

Steve is such an adorable dork at times...that Devin almost forgot why he was so angry with him in the first place. 

Almost.

"So what are we gonna do about De Santa since you let him walk?"

Steve sighed and rolled his eyes completely missing the entire point of this conversation. "This again? He's a washed up retired criminal with a family who hates him and in witness protection. I actually dare him to try and hurt you. Trust me. He knows it would be fucking stupid to try and get near you."

"Oh really? Tell that to the three hitman I have sent after him and Clinton."

"I told you not to do that-"

"He killed them all."

"Okay. But I told you not to try sending hitman and fucking up all the hard work Dave and I had put into making sure our asses didn't end up in-"

"And I told you that we should have sent Franklin to kill Michael but you insisted on killing Trevor."

"Oh please. I did everyone a fucking favor by eliminating that crazy asshole. Trust me. It was the right choice."

"Oh and killing Michael wasn't?"

"That's not what I meant. I just-you need to trust me."

"Oh really? Trust you? Let me ask you something. Where is De Santa now?"

"His house in Rockford Hills probably drinking away his misery as per usual."

Devin snorted. "Seriously? You are so fucking stupid at times you know that?"

"What? How is monitoring him stupid? If I recall it was your paranoid ass that insisted we have the FIB agency monitor him constantly when we have a lot better things to do with our vauleable time!"

"Well monitoring actually involves knowing where the target is yes?"

"Of course I know that! I am an FIB agent for Christ sake!"

"Well how come my private investigator found him at the Rockford Dorset Hotel about five miles from his place of residence?"

"So what? Prostitutes give blowjobs there like quarters. He's probably just treating his sad old erection with some STD covered floozy."

"Oh really? How come he's been there for three days now!"

"Desperation?"

"With two beds?"

"A threesome? I don't know-"

Devin slapped his forehead. "A threesome with two beds? Do you even know how a threesome works?"

"Uh...let's just forget I said that."

"I wish I could forget this whole conversation."

"Yeah, good idea. We were having a nice time until you brought this the fuck up!"

"Oh no, you're not getting off the hook that easily!"

"What?"

"You heard me! And guess what else? He's been purchasing enough medical supplies to tranquilize an elephant and bringing it into that hotel!"

"Maybe he's into medical role-play?"

"Lay off the internet porn, please. It's affecting your perception of how real sexual encounters work."

"Maybe he murdered a hooker? I'm not paid enough to deal with low lives like that!"

"No dumbass! Think! Trevor is with him!"

Steve rolled his eyes. "For the last time, Trevor is dead. I saw his body. You saw it too."

"Yeah in a photograph!"

"Is there a difference?"

"All I know is that you tend to become this overconfident jock that gets real fucking annoying after ten minutes of being around and tend to fuck up with your overconfidence!"

"So what? You're saying I am making up his death!"

"No I'm saying you're an idiot who believes too much in his own abilities."

"So I'm confident in my skill set."

"Confidence is a fool's substitute for intelligence."

"So what? You want me to barge in without a warrant."

"Yeah I'd like to hear that police phone call. 'Hello police it's Michael Townley. Yeah the guy who faked his own death and is in witness protection. I committed over 500 national and international felonies and some FIB agent just knocked down my door and gasp he doesn't have a warrant on him.' Yeah. They sure are gonna take his side over yours."

Steve threw his hands up. "Fine! Fucking fine! I'll get my team together and go storm the place tomorrow! You happy?"

"Fucking thrilled."

                                                                                                                                        *

Of course, Michael's insistence on sleep talking his way through the night kept Trevor awake most of the time so as punishment Trevor took to sucking dark hickies into Michael's fat neck and getting on top of him. Surprisingly all that fat made a good pillow and Trevor had no qualms sleeping on top of him for the rest of the time. Plus it seemed to quiet Michael's running mouth so it worked out well. 

Then an annoying piano alarm came on the nightstand beside them on Michael's phone. 

Trevor groaned in annoyance and buried his face into the crook of Michael's neck as Michael tried to shove Trevor off to get to his phone. 

"T, get the fuck off of me."

"Ah no."

"Fucking asshole."

Michael pushed a hand behind himself and lifted himself into a sitting position as Trevor wrapped tightly around him as Michael turned off the alarm and attempted to get off the bed.

"Seriously T move. I want to at least shower before I go out into public. I know you bathe in bodily fluids but some of us actually prefer to smell like what China thinks lavender smells like." 

Trevor snorted. "I thought you were retired. What could you possibly have to do today that doesn't involve alcohol and lying around? Least you can do is keep my company."

"I'm retired from my criminal career. In case you forgot-"

"Associate producer at your dream studio with your sugar daddy. How could I forget? And if I remember correctly you're waiting for a go ahead for Solomon before anything happens so-"

"I meant I have other things outside of work like-"

"Tennis and pretending you can play golf."

"I play just fine."

"That's not what Tracey says."

"What does Tracey know?"

"She's friends with that asshole's daughter that you are such good friends with."

"Who? Hayden?"

"Never trust a man on his third marriage."

"Yeah we aren't friends. What I meant is that I am getting lunch with Franklin today."

And the pang of being left out returned. "Oh can I come?"

Trevor didn't miss the hesitation and the way Michael's breath hitched nervously on the response to Trevor's inquiry. "Um..no I don't think that is such a good idea."

"And why not? Turning him against me like everyone else in your life you fucking Judas-"

"I meant you need to stay here and rest. Your body is still recovering and you need sleep."

"Recovering from what? Last I checked you were the one fucked on cocaine last night sugar not me."

Michael's eyes darted towards the window covered with moth-eaten cloth curtains. "We'll talk about that later. But right now you need to rest. And I need to shower. So move. Or you will be moved." 

Trevor snorted. "Is that a threat or one of your lame-ass movie quotes?"

Michael didn't even bother to respond. Just sighed. 

"Carry me to the shower. Might do something other than just carrying your fats around all day."

Michael actually laughed. "You want to take a shower? You?"

"Is that really so hard to believe? Aren't you the one always going on and on about how I need to clean up and improve myself and whatever else the fuck your dead therapist told you to do?"

"Alright alright fuck fine. Let's just go. You better keep your hands to yourself though." 

"No promises sugartits."

Michael threw off the last of the comforter and linked his arms under Trevor's thighs and stood up as he grunted under the weight of the both of them. Trevor patted Michael on the back with a patronizing "Good horsey."

"Trevor shut up."

"Hn." 

Michael maneuvered around the various obstacles before the finally made it to the bathroom and Trevor was gently set down onto the shower tiles. He actually was bracing to be dropped but this worked as well. Trevor, of course, was never one to obey the five-foot rule and more often than not was on Michael for the majority of the shower. 

Michael was acting strange this entire time as he didn't really complain about anything Trevor did but just lightly brushed him off with a soft laugh or gave into whatever Trevor wanted. It was kind of nice actually. But not like Michael at all. He must have done something bad recently Trevor decided. He always did this when he felt guilt about something. On the other hand, he still insisted on bossing Trevor around to wash his hair and clean the dirt off his chest. 

Suddenly without warning, Michael grabbed Trevor's arm and turned it over to where the mysterious burn mark was and tisked. "What happened here?"

"Uh...I don't really remember actually." He was not about to give Michael more to work with on how he was one stop away from crazy town. 

Michael shook his head, slammed the water off and pulling the both of them out of the shower out into the sink area where Michael snatched up a green first aid kit and grabbed Trevor's arm again. 

"Michael, what are you-"

"Shut up T."

Trevor felt a sharp burn run up his arm as Michael pressed some ointment to the burns. Trevor hissed like a cat and tried to pull his arm away but Michael held his arm steadfast and rolled his eyes as he wrapped his arm in gauze. "You need to be more careful T." he said calmly.

Okay. Now, this was seriously starting to freak Trevor the fuck out at this point. Michael's whole calm persona was not like him at all and-

he was being led over to the bed where Michael gently scooped him up and laid him out on the bed before putting blankets over him."Get some rest T. I'll be back soon. I promise." He kissed him on top of his forehead too. 

All this sappy shit was making Trevor want to pull Michael down with him or throw him out a window. Instead, he settled with glaring at Michael a little upset that htere wasn't a sly comment about any of the hickies Trevor had left like a string of pearls around his neck as he put on his jeans and that really nice leather jacket Trevor really liked because it was the same jacket he had wore when they faced off and killed their enemies and the three of them became friends again. It also was the same jacket Michael wore when the two of them went out for drinks and Michael stopped the car and apologized to him. It was also the same jacket Trevor had finally forgiven Michael in and let the past go. He watched Michael shove on his shoes and give Trevor one last sad lookover before heading out the door. 

The fuck?

                                                                                                 *

Michael sat nervously at the reserved table at the Del Perro Plaza looking around.  Devin had been sending some assholes after them recently. The killer hangover wasn't helping either. Coke was not a good choice. Defiantly not a good choice. 

Fucking Devin. Would've killed that fucking punk if it had not been for Franklin having been there. He may have taken it a bit too far during their last encounter.

A bit too far?

Okay a lot of too far. The fuck do you want? The fuck are you trying to prove anyways?

Michael ran his hand over his face as he remembered the last time they had spoken had ended in an extremely explosive argument. He might not even show up today. At least Franklin was tucked safely away with his pal Lamer in a location only Michael knew about. He was still in San Andreas but out of sight. Somewhere Devin would never think to look. 

After the incident with gasoline and burning friends, Franklin had tried to visit Michael after Lester and Michael had helped make sure Merryweather lost their license in order to royal fuck Devin in the ass. It worked unsurprisingly as Wesel News had picked the whole thing up. Turns out there were already reporters there out to make a case against Merryweather and Michael honestly couldn't blame em. 

After blank-faced lying to his family for the fifth time that day Michael did a double-take when he saw that Franklin was sitting out on his porch in the pouring rain without an umbrella. Great. Just what he fucking needed today. Another reminder of his many failures as a...well an everything really. 

"What are you doing here?"

Franklin stood up and frowned at him. "Man you being real weird dude."

"Yeah well, you did something really weird okay? Trevor bro? So excuse me."

Franklin narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists pacing towards Michael at a close distance. "Man you did Trevor too."

Michael had been this close to pushing the kid off the step of the porch. He pointed an offending finger towards Franklin's chest. "Yeah, but it was your call. You made the call. Don't you forget that."

Denial was so much easier than acceptance. But Franklin? He never expected this from him. And now he had just taken credit for what happened just to keep Franklin out of it. "Man I've done so much for you."

Something changed in Franklin's face the moment he said that. "And what about the amount of shit I helped you with? I thought we was in this shit together man! Fuck!"

"Just...look...I need some time alright. Goodbye."

"Pfft. Yeah, peace."

He pushed past Franklin and walked out into the rain. He didn't remember looking back. 

Yup. Defentatly could have handled that one better. He remembered how Lester became angry with him but still didn't cut him off, he had random meth heads emailing him threatening and laughable messages, his own children didn't want anything to do with him for a month especially JImmy, his wife was the only person who supported him for a short time until the drugs and alcohol became his saving grace yet again, he got into a fistfight with Hayden, Dave stopped answering his calls and then he got the word that Franklin had been in trouble with some gang leader wannabe named Stretch after helping save his idiot friend Lamar from the ballas again about three days after he had sent his family to Canada to get away from that psychopath Devin Weston who had apparently made it his personal mission to try and hurt Michael's family in any way he could. 

Okay. That time he had taken things too far. But then again what else was he supposed to do? When he saw Franklin pinned on the ground beaten so bad his face was barely recognizable and a gun pressed up against his temple with a Lamar freaking out in the background he kind of sort of lost the fine line of control he had left. 

When Michael had taken in the scene of what was happening it had him seeing red immediately. Before either party could fully process what was happening Michael was grabbing an axe from one of the landscaping trucks near the court and bashing in Stretch's head with it. Franklin's eyes widened when he saw it was no longer Stretch standing above him with a gun pointed at his forehead but Michael who was now currently making a mess of Stretch all over the pavement. 

Michael was breathing raggedly and once the anger and red had subsided looked up to find all the ballas, Lamar and Franklin all staring at him in shock. No one said or did anything for a good half minute. 

At first, he was confused on why everyone had gotten to still and quiet and then looked down to himself covered in blood. His jacket, jeans, his hands. He looked over a little more to see the puddle that was now Stretch at his feet. 

So this was what it felt like to be Trevor. Huh. Weird. 

And that thought of Trevor making some smartass comment right about now burns the back of his throat.

Lamar is the first to move. He launches his elbow into the ballar who was holding him to watch his brother get shot in front of him but whose grasp had since gone limp since a white dude came from the bushes and just made their leader into silly putty. Lamar takes his gun and shot him directly in the forehead and ran over to Franklin who was currently still staring in complete shock at Michael. Michael uses that distraction to pull out two guns. One for himself and one he shoves into Franklin's hands. 

The ballas pull out their guns too and soon bullets are raining down. Most of the other ones have already fled off into the streets. 

Michael gets in front of Lamar and Franklin but still works and moves with them. He had been pinned to the ground at one point but Franklin blew his captors brains out. Then someone started to hit him with a baseball bat but they too  Giving them directions until all the ballas were on the ground or running off like fucking cowards.

He did a double-take when he turned his head to find Lamar and Franklin were pointing guns at him now and narrowing their eyes like they were shooting lasers from their eyeballs straight through Michael's head. Michael remembered not even feeling mad when this happened. Just tired. He was always so fucking tired. 

"Look, guys-"

"Stay the fuck away from him!" Lamar snarled and put a protective arm in front of Franklin. Michael didn't miss how his hands were shaking. 

The cut near that looked like it was threatening to cut off Franklin's face was bleeding all over the place and his right eye was so swollen he couldn't even open it. His left eye was struggling to stay open and his legs looked they were about to buck any second. He was wobbly in his stance and Michael had no doubt that he had a concussion. 

Michael against his better judgment set the gun in his hand on the now bloodied court and held his hands up in surrender to show he wasn't planning on attacking them. Lamar seemed to relax at that but Franklin's face hardened.

"You Lamar?" Michael wasn't fully surprised when Lamar nodded his head. "I'm Michael. Don't think we've been properly introduced."

"No. We haven't." 

Michael took a step closer to them and watched Franklin take a whole step back. "We should leave. I got a safehouse with Dave that I put my family in when Weston sent Merryweather after us. I still got the keys. We'll talk there okay?"

Lamar lowered his gun to his side and looked over cautiously to Franklin who was still glaring at Michael. 

"I know you probably don't want to see me right now-"

"No. If I remember correctly it was you who didn't want to see me for a while because you 'needed time'." Michael didn't miss the glaring venom in Franklin's voice.

"I haven't been a very good friend lately. I know that and I'm sorry."

"Fuck. You."

"I shouldn't have...look I was an asshole...and...I just...I'm sorry-"

"Fuck you again."

"Listen we need to-"

"No YOU listen. You shouldn't have come here. We had it under control."

And that had Michael seeing red immediately. " You had things under control? From where I was standing it looked like you both were two seconds away from becoming worm food and that's your definition of having everything under control."

"Yeah because you would know all about the tough gang war on the streets."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Your pale white ass-"

"Did-did you just pull the race card on me? Franklin!"

"Oh so you want to tell me how to live my truth huh?"

"No I just...look....fellas we're getting off on the wrong foot-" 

"Our whole relationship has been wrong foots and missteps."

Michael couldn't help but chuckle at that a bit. "Yeah. I guess you're right."

"So fuck off man."

"No. Franklin you look like you're about to fall over. Please let me help-"

"I think your definition of helping isn't anyone else's.."

"Maybe not and maybe it won't be hard for some cop to drive by here and arrest all of our asses!"

"Well then Lamar and I aren't leaving until your senile ass books it."

"Senile? I'm only 49-"

"Who gives a fuck? Fucking leave before a shoot you between the eyes."

"You know Franklin empty threats really don't look good on you-"

"And you would know all about that you stinking ass cracker!"

"We need to go NOW! I ain't leaving you like this!"

"Like what?"

"Um let's see how about the fact that you are about to topple over, your face is bleeding and gashed up, you can't even open both your eyes-"

"Fuck off!"

"I just want to help you that's all. A few days ago Devin Weston sent some hitmen after my family. He's going to be coming for you next. He already has."

"So this whole thing was your fault? Tell that fucking asshole that I don't want to be a part of his little circus revenge plan to get back at you and I'm not gonna be your prop so you can feel good about yourself and become your project of charity!"

"You weren't ever that to me and you fucking know it."

Franklin almost lost his footing at that but when Lamar went to steady him he pushed him away too. Michael sighed and began slowly moving towards him. "You're about to fall onto the fucking ground. Come here."

He was about to grab Franklin when Franklin steadied himself and shoved the gun directly to Michael's throat. "Fuck. You."

Michael wrapped his hand around the one on the gun. His grasp was so weak he could easily rip it straight from Franklin's hands. But he didn't want to do that. He wanted Franklin to put it down himself.

"C'mon Franklin..."

He felt and saw Franklin was trembling. Then the fingers became lose and Michael was able to pull the gun away with ease and slip in back into his jeans. When he looked over to Franklin he saw he was running his hand over his face and there were tears coming out of his half-open eye. It was a bit jarring to see as Michael had never seen Frank cry before. It took a minute to process in Michael's mind before he was pulling Franklin close to him. Franklin was just a kid who didn't know any better and it was Michael's job to-

"Let's go to the safe house. Okay? We'll talk there after we get cleaned up and some rest okay?"

He lead Frank over to his car that seemed too far away at that moment with Lamar following close behind who slipped into the backseat without saying a word. Just kept glancing nervously between the two of them. Michael helped Franklin into the passenger seat and clicked the seatbelt around him before sliding into the driver's seat himself and driving off. They were at the safehouse before the LSPD even showed up to the crime scene. Fucking typical. 

Michael showed them inside with a "Glad we're together again."

"Not all of us..."

Michael sucked in a breath through his teeth when Lamar said that. Damn, he had forgotten about that...Trevor and him...yeah.

And the crippling anxiety and regret was back. Fuck.

The house was modest and cleaned just like Dave had left it for them. He eyed a green first aid kit on the tv stand which he snatched up when they walked past and gentely had Frank lie down on the couch. He was hesitant at first but relaxed once Michael rubbed his least bruised shoulder. 

Michael remembered Franklin being so good with the care barely even flinching especially when Michael started on the stitches for his face. A centimeter closer and he probably would have lost his eye. He then had Franklin take off his shirt and began working on the cuts and bruises back there. It was jarring as Franklin had never been hurt this badly before. At least of what Michael had seen of him. He was trying to be gentle the entire time and it must have worked because he fell fucking asleep against Michael. According to Lamar, he hadn't been sleeping that well. Michael had extended the time it would normally take to clean the cuts along Franklin's arms and back so he could just hold him. He had missed him. 

After helping Franklin into one of the bedrooms  Michael remembered attempting to help Lamar with his fair share of cuts and bruises but the most he got was a cold stare as Lamar snatched the first aid kit out of Michael's hand and proceeded to slam the other bedroom door in his face. 

Every other interaction had not gone too well after that. First both his kids, Franklin and now some kid he barely even knew. Great. 

Perhaps Franklin had needed time too Michael had thought. He still kept a close watch on him just like he did with his family. 

At least they did get that money from Weston back though. Michael had to admit messing with that asshole did bring a bit of amusement to his now lonely and guilt-ridden life. And on the bright side when Michael had gone to Franklin's house to get his stuff he had found the hitman Devin had sent after Franklin rather than the other way around.

Fucking coward.

And he had also found the Children of the Mountain shirt...Marnie had been right...

Michael precariously lifted his sleeve to find thirty minutes had passed and was about to get up to leave believing Franklin wasn't coming when he heard a familiar voice coming from across the way. 

Franklin was walking towards Michael who planted his ass back into the booth looking none too happy to see him. 

At least he came.

Yeah but how much longer before he leaves? Everyone always leaves you, Michael, because you are a no-good piece of shit. 

Yeah yeah yeah I get it. Get a new metaphor for Christ's sake. 

"Hey Frank. Glad you could make it. I already got us drinks. I know I know Barefoot wine for you." Michael willed his hands not to shake by setting them down in front of him

Franklin glared at him as he slid into the booth. His bruises had healed nicely but the scar in his face was still  He was wearing his black leather motorcycle gear and had his green biker helmet that...Trevor...had gotten...for him. 

"Yeah sorry I was late. You know how the traffic gets out on the Los Santos highways and all the abandoned cars on the side of the road who are just left there once they've outlived their usefulness."

Damn. Almost as bad as Jimmy had been. 

"I heard the sushi here is good. Salmon too. And if you want the really fresh stuff I would suggest the crab legs. Get whatever you want. I'm paying."

"Yeah thanks...I guess." Franklin fidgetted with the menu looking over it carefully and his mouth folded into a straight line of concentration as his eyes moved softly down the page. Suddenly without warning his eyes snapped back up to glare at Michael and his deemener became hard and sad once again. The air of calm evaporated. "What?"

"What do you mean what?" 

"I mean you keep staring at me man. Cut it out. It's fucking creepy."

Michael felt a sting of embarrassment in his cheeks. "Right. Sorry. I just...I miss seeing you."

Franklin looked back down at the menu and said so quietly Michael almost didn't hear it. "I miss seeing you too."

The lunch went well overall. They mostly just talked about cars and how Franklin was healing from his beat down and Lamar trashing the place and how the water pressure was. and Michael had left out all the parts about the Epsilon and other realities and aliens coming.

There would be time for that later.

He wanted to stay longer but the realization that he had left Trevor Phillips alone in the motel room by himself dawned on him and Michael almost ran himself into traffic when he saw in hindsight how incredibly stupid that was. Instead, he left enough for Franklin to get dessert and leave a nice tip for the pretty Vietnamese waitress. 

He patted Franklin softly on the shoulder. "Get whatever dessert you want, F. I personally recommend the chocolate cheesecake. I had a nice time today. If you need anything I'm only a call away I promise." 

Franklin looked down sheepishly but there was a smile on his face....thank God.

Michael almost died laughing when he flipped the radio to Weasel News and heard Steve Haines had done a raid on the Rockford Dorset Hotel. Looks like their little trick worked. 

"Lester you so of a bitch..." Michael murmured under his breath as he drove back.

As though by some miracle Trevor was still fast asleep when Michael finally got up to the room. He slipped off his clothes and slithered into the bed placing himself warmly against Trevor's side. 

It was bittersweet because even though Michael had tried to stay optimistic he knew...he knew. He just didn't want to believe it.

                                                                                                                                               *

"You are a fucking idiot Steve!" Devin didn't even give time for him to fully explain himself before chucking a bowl of pencils at the wall. He watched the World's Best Boss cup crack into a million pieces before falling like sleet to the floor. Molly had given him that one. 

Molly. Her perfect ass, gorgeous tits, and her perfect wet cunt. She made all the right sounds and was so easy to dominate. 

Fuck Molly. 

"I-I just-but you said to raid the Rockford Dorset Hotel! You said De Santa would be there. Well guess what? He wasn't!"

Devin slammed his eyes shut and pressed his index finger and thumb so hard against his nose he could feel the tissue bending beneath his grasp. He had no words which was rare for him. Fucking Michael pissed him off so damn much. Then a certain washed-up FIB agent came to mind. 

"What about Norton?"

"Norton? He's retired. What about him?"

"He's in on this. I know he is."

Steve actually had the audacity to snort. "Really? The corrupt FIB hero of yesterday? You gotta be kidding me."

There it was again. Steve and his useless attachments to meaningless and useless people. If only he could just listen to Devin and obey him without question this entire relationship would go a lot smoother and Michael and his family's heads would have been mounted on his wall long ago. Franklin and whoever that other punk was as well. 

"How else does Michael keep fucking everything up?"

"Maybe you're just a little...you know?"

Devin snapped back to Steve who squirmed uncomfortably. "Know what?"

Steve made spider webs with his hands nervously. "I just...I wasn't meaning to imply."

"No humor me. Say what you were going to fucking say."

Steve actually whined as though Devin was about to beat him with the chair. (He was close to doing just that anyhow) "I was gonna say that it just seems like you're...paranoid."

A wave of blood-red angry crashed against the rib cage within Devin and his whole body felt like it was fuming. "Paranoid?"

Steve tried to recount his mistake but it was useless at this point. Just kept poking the wound and making the blood spill out everywhere. "It's just first you sent hitmen after Michael and Franklin against my orders, then you shot that one maid in the head because she looked at you funny, then you thought Michael's character in Meltdown was a parody of yourself and tried to send an actual arson terrorist to burn down Richards studio and that isn't even the first time you've gone way too fucking far in your assumptions, then you attacked that homeless guy when we went to get ice cream at the pier that one time because he looked like Trevor even though he had been dead for over three weeks at that point and then you go off about the fucking stupidest religion I have ever heard of being able to raise people from the dead which we both know deep down is plastered tealed bullshit and now you're trying to make a connection between two completely unrelated events that have no correlation once so ever. Excuse me for calling it what it is."

Devin got close to Steve. Real close. So close he could see the nervous sweat prickling upon his soft brows. "If you can't see what I see then you're an even bigger fool than I thought. Now get the fuck out of my house."

                                                                                                                             *

It took Trevor all of three seconds to have jumped to the conclusion that skipping his meth breakfast because a stupid fucking book told him to was an extremely bad idea when his stomach awoke him feeling more like a rubber ducky in the middle of the ocean in a hurricane than an essential organ. His legs felt weak and soft hot tinkling sensation ran up his arms. Burning liquid was coming up his throat fast but he couldn't find it in himself to move across his trailer to make it to the toilet. He had slept in his own piss and shit that one time when he went on such a bad drug trip he didn't set his feet on his solid bedroom floor for almost three days. A little vomit never hurt anyone he concluded. 

Better out than in he liked to think. 

But then there was a hand against his shoulder gently turning his body over the side of the bed as the retching grew louder and more violent. Another hand massaged his shoulder blades and he heard a distant comforting voice guiding him through the storm. 

Then the river came up main street and Trevor was spitting up burning liquid onto the floor. The voice behind him became clearer. 

"It's okay. I got you T. It's alright."

Despite his better judgment, he leaned into the warm palm pressed against his back. He peeled open his eyes to take in the full scope of disgusting yellow wallpaper with curls that looked like black smoke swirling to the heavens to realize he was not in fact in his trailer but in some motel room with a Michael rubbing gentle circles into his back. 

Hold on a fucking minute what the actual fuck was going on here?

Trevor bolted upright so fast the rest of the vomit was wretched out of him like a tube of toothpaste all over the damn bedsheets and Michael. He didn't even have time to look at it before the piercing knife pain of an empty stomach returned and Trevor doubled over with a weak arm wrapped around his shaking abdomen. 

When he finally opened his eyes he found Michael just staring at the brown fluid like he expected this. He didn't even look mad. Just exhausted. 

It was fucking unnerving as Trevor had half expected Michael to have full-blown kicked him out of the bed into a pool of his own vomit or at least yelled at him but instead Michael slowly pulled himself out of the bed and removing the bedding from his chest and stomach as he went very carefully like a pair of surgical gloves in order to avoid more of the slush from spilling onto him and then proceeded to lay his hands against Trevor's shoulders with a shocking soft tenderness.

He felt Michael's warm fingers creep under his armpits and slowly pulling him away from the fucking mess he had created. It was so tender and soft that Trevor actually got tears in the corners of his eyes.

But it wasn't like Michael. It wasn't like Michael at all. 

And it was starting to freak him out ever so slightly. 

But at the same time it was really fucking nice so he let it happen without questioning it but still kept his guard up. But Michael didn't say anything other than a small "Let's get you cleaned up T." and when Michael began pressing a damp washcloth delicately against Trevor's chest was when he broke character. 

"Alright Mikey. Out with it."

Michael looked up at him genuinely confused. "Huh?"

"I know what you're going to say and I ain't fucking having it!"

"I-"

"Besides this whole thing was your fault anyways."

The corner of Michael's mouth pricked upwards into a smile at that. "Oh yeah? Please enlighten me then."

"Oh, sure if you want to ruin the surprise go right ahead."

Michael turned to the sink to wash off the vomit not seeming slightly fazed by the entire thing before returning to Trevor to clean off his arms. "What surprise? And hold still." 

Trevor really didn't want to say it. It was fucking embarrassing and he didn't believe for a minute based on how much of a smartass Michael was being that he had no idea what he was talking about. "Look...before I say anything this isn't me saying you're right or anything and I'm not about to join an anti-drug cleanings hippie circle or some therapy shit so forget that idea and get it out of your fucking head!"

"Okay..."

Trevor sighed. Any time he got to have Michael get a head start on him or giving him any sort of encouragement was fucking embarrassing. "I...I read your book...that you gave me...and it wasn't terrible...and I mean it wasn't the best thing I've ever read and if I wanted to watch assholes get off to overcoming to their drug issues or whatever I would just watch the real cunts of suburbia for ten hours."

Michael's face fell when he said that. "Whoa wait what book? I never gave you a-"

"Yes, you did. Remember when Franklin and I helped you clean out your dirty old attic and you had all those books because your guilt about betraying me was literally making you go crazy and become the next therapy book counselor and then you had that one book about the guy who was a drug addict and then he became a dude that helps people plan their day and diet and stuff like that."

"You mean a life coach?"

"Yeah, sure if you want to be a smart ass and use the layman's term."

"That is the layman's term, Trevor."

"Yeah what the fuck ever! I'm just saying you were...not necessarily right...but you weren't painfully obviously wrong like you usually are either."

"Hey what-"

"And that maybe just maybe...I skimmed it. And that may be the chapter on being able to live a life of joy that comes from the inside rather than relying on other people isn't to provide that comfort and joy for you wasn't such a terrible idea."

"Confidence?"

"No. He called it...adversary."

A metaphoric lightbulb came on in his eyes. "Oh, you're talking about Best Self? You liked it? And I gave you that one? I didn't give you the workbook that came with it did I?"

"No. What's a workbook?"

"It's a version of a book you're reading that asks you questions and you can write in it to help you get your thoughts out and understand the stuff you're reading. Make real world connections and stuff. I can't believe I gave you Best Self."

"I mean you can have it back if you want-"

Michael held up his hand. "No, it's alright. You keep it. I was just surprised  is all."

"And I suppose that I was trying to do step one of the...you know...and it's not because of what you're thinking."

Michael just kept staring at Trevor with an unreadable expression that was a mixture of sadness and guilt and not at all what Trevor was expecting. He was trying to please Michael or at least make him not think so much of him as a monster or whatever but Michael still was looking at him with that pitiful expression like he always had. Seeing him as a broken thing rather than a human being. Made Trevor want to take a glass lamp to his face or smash his own face into the mirror beside them. Instead, he settled with balling his fist into the marble counter until his knuckles turned white and his arm was quivering in a pent up rage he clearly was not doing a good job at hiding as Michael's posture went into the defensive immediately and Trevor could practically hear the gears in Michael's head grinding in preparation to bolt or fight.

Michael stared at him and Trevor stared back but he had a feeling why they were staring at each other was for very different reasons. It always was. 

Michael was the first to break it by clearing his throat and saying hoarsely "I need a smoke."

And marched out of the room only grabbing his pack and a jacket and nothing else. Didn't even seem bothered that he was still sporting a fine splash of vomit across his body. 

Trevor of course followed him out into the parking lot. 

Not before throwing on his won clothes after all. He thought about walking out fully naked just to see Michael get all uncomfortable and queasy but based on the way Michael kept looking at him he didn't want to push. 

Trevor was undoubtedly confused on what the hell was going. That wasn't uncommon as he wasn't what the normies would call a people person but he thought he was able to at least interpret those few who were close to him. Or not. 

Wait did he have his daily breakfast of meth?

Oh wait... 

Oh yeah....

The fuck is he so pissed about? Does he really want the book back? If so why the fuck didn't he fucking say so instead of playing these stupid patronizing games...ARuGh fucking Michael stupid ass shit

Michael was standing over one of the banisters on the other side of the building smoking. The room was on the third floor. Trevor approached Michael slowly his back being turned to him. His shoulders were slumped over and his head hanging miserably as though his neck would snap if Trevor pressed down further. It kind of reminded him of their first nights together in Sandy Shores when Michael decided to fuly give into his 

Trevor felt that familiar feeling of shame sting across his chest as the universe once again reminded him that he wasn't like other people. A good friend would be better. 

"No one could ever love you. No matter what you do or where you go you will always be a good for nothing sack of shit of a boy. Never forget that."

"Didn't I tell you to fuck off?" 

Trevor moved towards the banister to lean beside Michael. "No, actually you did not. I'm telling you man that damn sun has melted your fucking brain right out of your skull. Forgetting things. Just know when you get Altimzer's from that shit I won't be the one wheeling your ass to a nursing home."

Michael didn't say anything and didn't make an effort to turn his head towards Trevor. Just stared off into the parking lot. The sky was cloudy. It was probably going to rain soon. Trevor could taste it in the wind. Michael took another long drag before exhaling out the lazy curls of smoke into the air watching them spin up into the atmosphere. 

"What happened to your arm, Trevor? The burn? Where did you get it?"

Trevor looked down at the careful badges and gauze wrapping his arm and hummed thoughtfully in an attempt to fully process what happened. He didn't have an answer for it. He couldn't remember and Michael must have seen his distress. 

"It's okay. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

Trevor shrugged. "It's not that I don't want to Mikey it's just that I can't exactly remember what happened."

Michael turned to face him eyes wide mouth agape. "What?"

Trevor shrugged. "What you don't think I would intentionally burn myself do you?" Okay, that wasn't entirely true. He just didn't like the way it felt but sometimes having gasoline handy to help burn a rude fucker to ashes would come in handy and sometimes that required some burns to have a little fun with his guests but he tended to try and stand away from such. He got burned enough from lying in the middle of the fucking beach face down butt naked in a state of subconsciousness with an amount of alcohol in his system that someone from Vice City would think he was borderline pushing it. Waking up with burns all over his body was not a fun time and he remembered screaming at some fat chick that walked by once he realized none of the subdued beach goers had the common decency to put some sunscreen on a parched man. 

And then there was that time when the O'Neil brothers stole his business and he burned their meth lab to the ground.

And that time when he used a crop duster to jump into that Merry weather jet that ended up falling from the sky in a fiery blaze. 

And that other time he blew up Josh's house and then shot him in the back of the head. 

And he did like the smell of gasoline. It made him think of his sweet delicate rose of a mother for some reason and gave his stomach a nice warm feeling inside that he so rarely experienced in this cold cruel world. 

Okay so maybe he wasn't that scared of fire. Well not scared more like...

"And what the fuck did I tell you about touching my fucking fine china collection!" Mrs. Munroe held the rolled-up newspaper torch closer to Trevor's face. He attempted to twist away but the wall of the basement and the iron tight grip held him in place. The fire was closer now it's heat mere centimeters away from the tip of his nose.

"Don't touch fragile things in the house..."

"What was that I didn't hear you!" 

Trevor felt the grey tiles behind him dig into his thinly veiled back. 

"Say it with me! Don't. Touch. Things. That. Don't. Belong. To. You!"

Michael wasn't listening at that point and was already lost to his depressed state looking off blankly into the horizon. When the light caught his face Trevor noticed that his face was wet. 

"Hey M...you alright man?"

Michael waved him off and walked towards the stairs. He looked behind him. "You coming?"

Trevor rolled his eyes but followed closely behind Michael to the pool that looked more like the inside of a sewer drain than a place for one to soak up the Los Santos rays. Michael pulled out two pool chairs and one of the filthy tables and the two sat across from each other in silence as Michael lite up another cigarette. Trevor flinched when he felt Michael's other hand covered his own and squeezed softly. Michael never showed this kind of public affection with anyone. Ever. Especially not Trevor.

He was almost scared for what was about to happen next. Michael sighed deeply. 

"It has come to my attention that I have made a terrible decision."

Trevor tensed up prepared for some long De Santa styled lecture on adultry when Michael turned to look at him with tears in his eyes. 

The fuck?

"You're not my Trevor. I thought you were but you weren't."

"Uh...what?"

Michael sighed and squeezed Trevor's hands again. "I need you to promise me you won't freak out. You seem to be adjusted well so far but if you freak the fuck out you're gonna experience a lot more damage than just that burn of yours."

Trevor narrowed his eyes. "Why? What the fuck did you do?"

"Tell me, Trevor. What has been going on in your life for the past few months? I want details."

"Do you mean after Franklin, you and I killed Devin Weston or-"

Michael chuckled sadly. "You guys killed Devin Weston? Of course, you'd be from that reality. I thought that I was just a failure in my own world but it's nice to know I am a failure across all realities too."

"What the fuck are we talking about?"

Michael turned his arm over and yanked up his sleeve. Trevor's eyes widened. 

On his wrist stood the Epsilon E in deep deep cuts imprinted onto Michael's skin. Trevor knew Michael had fucked around the Epsilon when he wore that blue robe to one of their meet ups but he didn't think it was serious. 

"You can touch it if you want to. I don't give a shit."

Trevor ran the pad of his thumb softly over the cuts still a little freaked out by the entire thing. 

"So I guess normal tattoos are too great for the late and not so great Michael Townley huh?"

"It's not a tattoo. It's a key."

"A key to what?"

"This." The cuts started glowing blue. Trevor attempted to pull his hand away but Michael grabbed his wrist and shoved it over the glowing cuts. 

Then he felt like he was being pulled out of his body. He closed his eyes as his stomach rolled and he felt like he was spinning at a million miles per hour. Then it stopped. Michael was still holding his hand. 

"You're fine." 

Trevor was more occupied by the fact he was staring at his own body slumped over on the plastic table looking like he had fallen asleep or was extremely drunk. Michael as well. 

He felt Michael's thumb stroking the back his knuckles. "It's fine. Don't worry about it your body. It is still alive. Your soul has just left for a second. I'll bring you back I promise. I've had some practice over the past two months anyway with Sister Shupar."

"Uh...okay."

Michael was in Epsilon robes now although Trevor was still in his own clothes his body was wearing. Michael's eyes were sad still but it was weird. Trevor could feel his sadness now. 

Michael must have realized that as the feeling went away almost immediately and Michael looked sheepishly towards him. "Uh...sorry man. I've never brought anyone in here before. I didn't even think that this would work with your antithesis energy flowing through your veins but I didn't want to start spewing some nonsense without it making sense."

"Okay?"

They were being pulled back away from their bodies. Up and up and up until everything was dark. 

Then soft blue crystals lite up with various faces of people, places, things, animals. All around. 

"Where are we?" Trevor said eyes taking in the entire scope of the place.

"The thesis. Where all the energy of the universe that is, was and ever be."

They are pulled back down, down, down, down to their bodies. Trevor gasped for air as soon as his soul in place back into his flesh none too gently. 

Michael seems disillusioned by the entire thing. But then again when did he ever give a shit anyway. 

Trevor was still a little freaked out by the entire thing but at least his feet were on solid ground now. Literally. 

Michael looked at him with a sad smile. "I knew the entire thing seemed too good to be true...but there are times...I just miss..."

Trevor watched Michael wipe the moister off of his face and turned to smile sadly towards Trevor. "Tell me something Trevor. Are you happy? In your reality...are you happy?"

The question made Trevor do a double-take. "I mean...um...I guess so...less alone I guess..."

Michael nodded slightly. "Yeah...that's...that's...good." Michael rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hands and sighed deeply. "Sorry, It's just...you're so much like him...but yet you're not. Well you are but...it's not the same."

Trevor was still confused and not really sure what to do. He reached over and gently patted Micheal (or THIS Michael) on the shoulder. "I'm sorry man."

Michael flicked away the hand on his shoulder. "I don't deserve any of your pity. I don't want it either."

"Okay?" Trevor really didn't know what to say to that. He kind of got the feeling he knew what had happened to this reality's Trevor.

"I...tried to bring him back to life with the Htaed. It didn't work..."

"Well glad to hear you want me around." Trevor had meant it as a joke but Michael didn't take it that way. 

"Well no offense but you're not exactly-"

"Yeah yeah, I get it, Mikey. Shut up." 

He didn't get the whole reality hopping shit but...it was still somewhat fascinating. 

Plus the guilt Michael had in his reality was a fantastic ability few had and it was better than drug dependency. Trevor didn't need to slip some gak into Michael's drink when he could just drunkenly remind him of the fact that the reason he was like this was entirely Michael's fault. 

Worked every single damn time. 

But this Michael...well he had so much remorse on him Trevor could practically smell the stench radiating from his skin like piss. Trevor could use this...in fact he could do anything he wanted with and to this Michael. 

That was if he wasn't feeling remorse for trying to exploit that. He could practically hear his stupid Michael telling him to stop being an asshole. 

But then again he wasn't married to Michael so did he even really need to listen to what he had to say or think about what he would do in this situation?

"I have messed up the balance of the entire universe and Cris is going to literally going to kill me."

Trevor clapped Michael's shoulder. "Well can't say you don't deserve it, Mikey. Burning your best friend. The fuck is wrong with you?"

"How did you-"

"Asking me about the burn on my arm and looking all guilty, asking me about fire, getting all upset when I brought it up, cocaine...you ain't exactly an enigma. If you think I'm falling for any more of your bullshit after that little stunt of yours with the FIB you got another thing coming."

"So I'm guessing you don't have a very good relationship with your Michael either huh?"

"No...we are good now. He apologized to me actually."

"And what did you say?"

"I said we were good. What else was I supposed to do?"

"So you didn't actually forgive him? You just said you did?"

"DID YOU NOT JUST LISTEN TO A FUCKING WORD I JUST SAID!"

Michael held his hands up in surrender at that. "Okay. I apologize. Wasn't trying to accuse you of nothing. Just asking was all."

"Well don't. Based on where you're at in your life you ain't got no room to be judging."

"I ain't judging T."

"Well, that's not what it sounds like!"

Michael sighed and lite up another cigarette. Trevor rolled his eyes in annoyance. 

"You trying to get lung cancer before 60?"

Michael just chuckled. "Maybe."

There was a beat of silence. 

"Can I ask you something, Trevor?"

"What sugartits?"

"I was just wondering...what is it like?"

"What is it like?"

"Yeah. Like what are we like in your reality?"

Trevor pondered that for second thinking back to that strange phone call he had had with Franklin this morning. 

Or perhaps it wasn't his Franklin. 

"Well, Amanda is alright I guess. She doesn't like me too much but it's better ever since the big one and our little conversations over tennis are pretty passive aggressive. Then there is Jimmy who visits me once a week and Tracey...I never see enough of that girl.  I've even gotten invited over a few times so that's pretty nice. Franklin is a good kid as usual and we hang out every week too. I also hang out with that friend of his. Wade has pretty much abandoned me as the girls in the club have pretty much adopted him as their own. Ron has taken over TP Inc and there are others. So many others."

"And what is your Michael like?"

"He's a selfish self-loathing dick but I still love him for it."

Michael sighed sadly. "So...everything worked out in the end?"

"I guess you could say that." 

Trevor actually jumped when Michael put his hands to his face and began sobbing.

And the awkwardness settled over him like a bleak fog. He reached out for Michael but stopped his hand midway not exactly a hundred percent sure what to do. But then again after meeting Michael after nine years of thinking he was dead wasn't exactly full of certainty either.

There wasn't exactly a How to Talk with Your Friend Who Faked His Own Death, Got Your Old Accomplished Killed and Tried to Have You Killed Several Times For Dummies book at the local Spines Bookshop and if there was Michael had probably read it and had it in the attic of his. Reading was for foolish people to feel more confident about their own self imposed arrogance.  

But then Trevor rolled his eyes, shoved off his chair and went to stand behind Michael. He felt Michael flinch when he placed his palms against his shoulders but he didn't pull away which was worth something. He slowly began kneading the tenseness in the shoulders away as Michael continued the shake beneath him. He rubbed his thumbs into the tip of his spine. Michael had told him once that his dad had thrown him against a wall when he was three and his back had never really been the same since and the various sprinklings of football injuries didn't help either. 

"I-I don't get it. Why aren't you trying to kill me?"

Trevor sighed. "Well, you didn't kill me after I projectile vomited all over you so?"

"Yeah. Well, won't be the first time."

Trevor hummed thoughtfully at the memory while pulled down the jacket Michael was wearing to have more skin exposed to his fingers. He felt some remnants of back hair against his fingers and smiled. He never would understand why Amanda insisted on having Michael shave absolutely everywhere. Trevor never minded a little peach fuzz here and there. Amanda was ever the precarious bitch as per fucking usual. 

"You know you aren't freaking out like I thought you would. "

Trevor snorted. "I think 90 percent of your fuck ups had to do with you assuming how I would react to things instead of being a fucking man and ripping off the band-aid and fessing up."

"Uh...I guess."

"Uh I guess...no you fucking didn't."

"Eh fuck you."

"I did. If you fucking remember."

That shut Michael right up and Trevor couldn't help but smirk at that. 

"So you gonna tell me what happened?"

Their fingers grazed as Michael went to scratch the back of his head. Trevor reached up slowly and intertwined their fingers keeping Michael's hand there and stroked the back of his hand. He was fuzzy there too. Trevor buried his nose into Michael's black hair and a grey hair caught his eye. He used his other hand to pluck it softly out. Michael still groaned in pain like the pussy he was. 

"I mean if you promise not rip my arm off or something you sick fuck."

He considered it for a moment. At least that didn't rule out...other methods. Fair enough. "Okay, Mikey. I promise."

"So when my family left me I was completely lost. I thought they were gone forever and...when I tried to call them they would-"

"Tell you to fuck off and lose their numbers. Yeah, I fucking remember. I am more interested in the fiery grave part of this story."

"I'm getting there."

"Well can we please skip the 'my family hates me' bullshit, please! I already get enough of that whining from the Michael in my reality!"

"Alright alright. But don't get all pissy with me when the story doesn't make any sense because you made me skip half of the important fucking details."

Trevor just his eyes and pushed Michael's collar aside a bit to have some space to feel for his pulse. It won't matter. Michael was such a good and bad liar at times that it didn't matter. Maybe he would be able to snap his neck in one fell swoop from this angle. He had done it before to a rather annoying member of the Neo-Nazi party when he took that one trip up to Liberty City and instantly regretted it. Way too many fucking crazy depressing people up there. Reminded him way too much of another particular asshole who he thought was dead during that time. 

And thinking of that wasn't helping to keep his temper in check. He bit his tongue and waited. 

"After you...after Trevor...it was really hard. You see when I...had that whole thing with the FIB...I wasn't the bullet you know. I wasn't really sure if he was dead or captured or whatnot so it was easy to alleviate the guilt I felt because...I just didn't know. The Epsilon took me in just like when my family left me. Everyone was...they all blamed me for your...you know."

"As they should."

"So I began talking with Sister Shupar and I began exploring the thesis for myself. For real this time without any of my old antitheses in tact. I learned how to astral walk with the help of my Sister Shupar and I could go literally thousands of places in one night without being bound by the laws of time or realities or borders. I saw so many different versions of myself. For better and for worse. I was the biggest asshole of them all. I am actually the worst Michael and I'm not saying that to be fucking dramatic. None of the other realities came close to what I did. Well except for that one where I was a domestic terrorist for a pornographic studio where I would hunt down girls who tried to leave the industry and blow up their houses and also kidnapped under aged girls. Or that other one where I was a pedophile. So I guess I am the third worst Michael and the second most miserable."

"So who was the first?"

"Reality E. A reality where I didn't go through with the whole Lundendor job and ended up having my entire family get brutally killed and half my face burned off along with my left arm only to be saved by the Trevor from that reality and the two are now fucking each other."

"Sounds real romantic."

"Yeah, I guess."

"So you ever talk to any of those other Michaels like you are doing with me or bring anyone over?"

"Oh no! Nothing like that. The Literature is very clear about fucking around with that kind of shit. You should never be doing any of that unless it is under extreme circumstances or unless someone invites you in. It won't have mattered even if I tried anyhow. I was always an observer. None of the other Michael's seemed to have been touched by the radiant knowledge of Cris so I never got a response or even an acknowledgment of my presence. And then...one day...I did."

"Who?"

"A Michael similar to me. He had been touched by the light of Cris. It wasn't in this time but back a few months. His family had left him just like mine had and in the process of seeking answers and truth, he discovered the Epsilon just as I had. He didn't fully commit as I had. At least I had when... Anyways he walks around the thesis in his sleep. People with our level of guilt tend to do so. His grief and regrets were my grief and regrets. He understood me and I him. So we started a correspondence of sorts. I didn't fully reveal myself of course. No one hates us more than we hate ourselves so I would disguise myself from various people he found comfort in from his past and his present and used it against him. He was so lonely so it was easy."

Trevor's stomach dropped when he remembered after the second one of their angry fucks out in Sandy Shores the night of the Paleto Score mission...when Trevor left for a total of ten minutes to shower off the stickiness on his stomach that screams had filled his trailer and that he had run back into the room to find a paranoid Michael waving his gun that he slept with under his pillow around and gasping for air. 

"Michael's night terrors? That was YOU?"

"Some of them yes. But not all."

"Why the...why would you do that?"

"I was helping him. I was helping you. I wanted him to be a better person than he was in this reality. If I hadn't had gone and fucked with his head his story would have ended up like it did here."

"And how was that? How did it end here?"

"It was a tough situation-"

"Don't give me that! It always is a fucking tough situation with you! What happened?"

Michael chewed his lower lip nervously before finally speaking.  

"So anyways you had really pissed of the FIB really fucking bad. Steve practically wanted your head on his mantle."

"Mmmm. I see. Can't say I'm all that surprised. In my reality, I shoot that fucker in the back of his head during a filming of his stupid television show for even bigger assholes. Clean headshot. Blood went everywhere and everyone on the pier was freaking the fuck out." 

Michael whistled impressively. "Damn. I would've thought you would have been a bit more creative with how you killed that asshole."

"Oh fuck no. That guy didn't deserve to have a creative death. He thought way too fucking highly of himself for that to ever happen."

"I agree."

"So then what happened next? Got to tell you Mikey I'm on the edge of my fucking seat here." Trevor slipped his hand lower across the puke stained wife beater to the edge and slowly lifted up until his fingers were grazing against his bellybutton and softly pressed his index finger inside feeling Michael tense around him. But he doesn't push him away which is way different from his Michael who would have thrown him to the floor by now. 

Guilt is a hell of a drug that was for fucking sure. 

He pressed his nose into Michael's right ear and breathed softly.

"We did the big one. You were acting like you were going to gouge out my eyes or rip open my chest. We helped Franklin's friend out with a weed deal gone wrong. The FIB contacted me and told me they wanted you dead. I called you to come out into the middle of the dessert, you freaked out when you got there and drove off and I chased after you..."

Trevor pushed his hand up softly so he was feeling Michael's sweat from the intense late afternoon LS humidity setting in beneath his chest hairs. "Why'd you stop?"

"Huh?" Michael said it in a daze as though he had been dreaming about that night. He probably had. Trevor always had a strange paranoia that his Michael had been fantasizing about killing him in a brutal fashion. 

"Oh yeah. Sorry..."

"So you chased me down?"

"Yeah."

"I'm assuming you caught up to me. Or did you have help?"

"I didn't have any help. I...slammed into your truck and pushed you into a gas truck and you rolled out all hurt and whatever. I got out of my car too and you were yelling at me."

"That's understandable."

"And then you...I...shot at you...but I missed so it hit the gasoline instead and um..."

THAT alarmed Trevor. Michael missing a shot? In his reality, that day had not yet arrived.

But he said nothing. Just waited as he continued to card his fingers through Michael's soft chest hairs and waited. 

Michael didn't go on. Just sat there staring intensely at his flip flops and overgrown toenails while shaking like a leaf. Trevor could put two and two together. 

"Please tell me you at least shot him in the face and didn't miss that time. Gave him a good death?"

Michael didn't answer and the full horror of what had happened to this Trevor settled down on him. 

Jesus fucking Christ what in the name of-

Trevor felt like he was going to be sick. Again. 

And Michael was back to crying. Again. 

Trevor should get out of here. He should leave. He should run away. He should kill this fucker and live in a world without Michael. He should-

But instead, he moved to straddle Michael and pressed his forehead against his. He didn't meet his eyes though and just listened to his soft hiccups. 

There was something weird about this entire thing. Why would Michael just walk away while he burned to death? That was out of character for him. 

Not the betrayal but the way the betrayal went. Why won't Michael had just finished him off quickly?

"You were trying to bring him back, weren't you? But why?"

Michael didn't say anything.

"Because it wasn't just you who decided it. There was someone else...wasn't there?"

"What do you mean?"

Trevor sighed. "You're still lying to me. Why?"

Michael shrugged. Didn't even try to deny it. 

Fuck.

"Who else was there Michael?"

"No one."

Trevor took this time to glare at Michael. It didn't work it never worked but instead of being brushed off, he was looked at with pity. This whole thing was really weird and uncomfortable and he really really didn't like to be uncomfortable.

He could kill this Michael. He really really could. But then what would that prove And how would he get back to his reality? 

He heard Michael sigh beside his ear. "You are handling this way better than I thought you would."

"You said that already."

"Yeah but I mean...the Michael from Reality C is freaking the fuck out...but you're just...you're way more calm than he is."

Trevor raised an eyebrow. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Michael gave Trevor a confused look. "You don't know?"

"Know what?"

"Your Michael...Michael C...he's in reality B right now. Well, he won't be for long."

"Reality B? Is that the pedophile one?"

"What? Oh Christ no! That's reality L. Reality B is almost exactly like this one and yours except instead of finishing off all the bosses...Franklin gives into Devin Weston and kills Michael. I guess when I tried to use the Htaed on the almost dead Trevor for my reality when I moved back in time using the thesis but brought you over instead the realities balanced themselves out by putting that Michael in an open spot so to speak because it turns out the sister Shupar from there was also trying to bring Michael back to life the same way I did with my Trevor and it probably had the same consequences."

Trevor couldn't even imagine Franklin hurting him or Michael. He tried to but a blank screen came up within his mind. 

"You see our realities are all connected by Franklin Clinton. He is the ego of the three other realities I saw. B, C, and D if you will."

"Wait what happens in D?"

"Franklin gets killed."

"Oh fuck."

"Oh fuck is right. Anyways Franklin was presented with a choice. After rescuing Lamar the FIB approaches him and tell him to kill you and then Devin Weston and Merryweather later approach him at his house to tell him to kill me. So he makes a list of ways he would kill either or both of us on his phone. In your reality and reality D, he decides against it last minute and calls Lester and well you know the rest. In reality B he calls you and tries to get you to help him kill me and you refuse to help either one of them as it seems you thought Michael would have been able to defend himself against a kid...but it's kind of hard to aim correctly when your surrogate son and well one thing lead to another and Michael's brains were splattered all over the concrete at the bottom of the Palmer tower. The Trevor there didn't realize Franklin had actually killed him until everyone Michael had helped or who loved him started calling him and accusing him of killing Michael. The Lester there knew the truth but didn't want to say anything until that Trevor literally dragged Paige from a bar and had her hack into the cameras and confirm his suspicions and clear his name. As a sort of repercussion for failing to protect Michael or warn him that Trevor protects and looks after Michael's family. He even went with them when they went to view Michael's body for the first time."

Trevor's mind was speeding around in different directions at a million miles per hour. 

Franklin...was going to kill us? He had actually considered it. He even killed fucking Michael in another reality...he...

"He killed me in this reality didn't he? It wasn't you."

"No it-"

"DIDN'T HE?"

"No. I did."

"NO! You were there but you didn't shoot me. Franklin did. That's why he missed. When he gets scared he flinches. Almost got his head blown off because of it when we got attacked by the Ballas at that drug deal. And the reason you were there at all was because you were scared he was going to get killed by me if he went alone and you would have rather had me dead than to have had him dead because you could never kill me yourself you stupid hypocritical fake asshole!"

"No. He wasn't there. I was. It was just me."

"AURGH! THE LIES MAN! ALL YOU DO IS FUCKING LIE!"

"Well that's not entirely true-"

"YOU'RE FUCKING SCARED THAT I AM GOING TO KILL YOU AND THEN GO AFTER FRANKLIN AREN'T YOU?"

"I-"

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! JUST FUCKING SHUT UP!" 

Trevor threw his entire body weight forward towards Michael as he wrapped his fingers around his throat. The chair tips backwards and Michael is now pinned beneath him as his hands cut off the rest of his airflow. Michael made no attempt to shove him off or get his hands off.

And it only made to make him even more pissed off. He picked up Michael's head slightly and slammed it down against the tiles. He felt Michael flinch beneath him but he didn't make any effort to squirm away. 

Trevor is going to kill Michael. For real this time. He's back in the graveyard pointing his gun, standing over the corpse of Brad watching Michael attempt to make his pleas for his life. Trevor is having none of it. But instead of fear in those big blue eyes he sees...complacency...acceptance. 

This Michael wants Trevor to kill him. 

And it would be so easy too.

Then for a brief second, he sees the kid who crawled beneath him in the snow storm that freezing winter stormy night wrapped in red blankets.

And...

He just can't do it...

He can;'t do it...

Even now he can't do it.

Trevor unwraps his hands and rolls off of Michael laughing. He didn't know at what point he started crying, however. Michael crawled over to him ignoring the bleeding head and the finger marks around his throat and pulled Trevor into his arms. Trevor grabbed some of Michael's hair and pulled him down to kiss him. Michael didn't resist at all. 

Trevor pushed an arm behind himself to push into a sitting position. He grabbed Michael's wife-beater and kissed him again. Michael leaned into it. 

Trevor pulled away but kept his forehead against Michael's. "You're a mess, Townley."

"Ah bite me."

"In a minute sugar."

Michael raised an eyebrow toward him. "Um...you really want to go back to the room where you threw up all over the fucking bed. It probably smells  like shit in there."

"Pool house."

"Huh?"

Trevor didn't answer. Just pulled Michael to his feet and while gnashing their faces together walked Michael over to the shed that looked like it had been through seven hurricanes and wasn't wholly surprised to find there wasn't a lock on the rusted handle. He pulled Michael in with little to no resistance and shut the door behind him. He could barely see outside some of the small dots where light leaked through the ceiling and walls. Outside somewhere in the distance thunder shuttered across the sky. 

It was warm inside here and smelled strongly of mold. Trevor ripped his white t-shirt over his head and threw it on top of some rusted pool tubes beside him. He turned to Michael and pulled him close. He half expected Michael to start whining about the smell or the darkness but he said nothing so Trevor closed the gap between the two of them. Just like last night Michael made no attempt to try and take the lead in this. He didn't even try to remove any of Trevor's clothes even as Trevor was removing the vomit stained wife beater and yanking down his blue boxers. 

                                                                                                                                             *

They lay intertwined on the filthy pool house floor listening to the rain pattering against the plastic roof. He looked over to see new ugly hickies forming along Michael's upper neck and as promised teeth marks on his shoulder. Michael's eyes were close and Trevor half wondered if he was asleep but his eyes fluttered open after Trevor placed a soft kiss to his nose. He didn't even smile. Just looked at Trevor sadly. Trevor pulled him closer and nuzzled their noses together humming softly. 

"Whatcha thinking about sugartits?"

"Nothing. Just glad this stupid shed isn't made of metal so the lighting doesn't come down and grill our asses."

"And there is the negative energy I was waiting for."

Michael nudged Trevor's side. "Hey, you started it."

"So your little reality hopping adventures...out of all the ones you saw which one was your favorite...besides mine of course."

Michael hummed softly. "I don't know. There were some pretty fun ones though. In reality G we were sports players."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I made it in football and you made it in hockey. We met by chance at a concession stand in Canada after you spilled nacho sauce all over my freshly laundry matted jersey. We got into a fistfight and spent three nights in jail together. We hit it off pretty quickly. Reality W was also pretty interesting. You were a rapper in that one."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and your tattoos looked even more fucking stupid in that one."

"Ah fuck you! My tattoos are art! Someone as fake as you won't get it."

"You mean someone whose, not a hipster?"

"Fuck you, Michael." 

"I'm an old man. You got to give me a second before we can do that again."

"Yeah, I bet softy."

"Fuck you."

"No fuck you."

They stayed like that for a good few more minutes before Michael began to speak again. 

"You could stay here you know?"

"Hmm?"

"Here. In my reality. You don't have to go back."

Trevor really didn't have anything to say to that in response. On the one hand, he could stay here and get all this attention from this Michael. On the other hand, his Michael was off somewhere in a strange world without him. He would never say it out loud

But deep down he hoped he was safe.