Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He throws the popsicle up and catches it with his mouth, grinning at them at this ridiculous achievement. The gesture is reminiscent of Jason and yeah, they all miss him. She doesn't like thinking of missing him. Or thinking why the dumbest one got his fill of heaven the fastest. Why'd he needed to go at all. That's he's not here anymore and just a particle of some wave.

Eleanor forcefully focuses herself back on Michael, he's playing with another candy now, catching it between his large fingers, giving poor thing a spin, toying with it.

He catches her stare and throws the candy to her. Something is wrong with that picture but she's too busy squeezing Chidi's hand and pressing down Jason-related emotions in the pit of her stomach to notice.

She comes to him when Chidi's about to leave. Since most of her problems could be solved by going to Michael that's what she does. And he is useless.

"Don't you think it was a giant stupid mistake to make the door?"

He's cautious with his answer like an easily spooked cat. Smart squid.

"I don't know, it works? There were some kinks in the system but we worked them out, didn't we?"

He ignores the underlying personal attack. She's hurt. She's grieving. Be gentle.

Unfortunately for him she's already found her answer.

"I mean, this was supposed to be paradise. As in good forever, no hurt, no worries. But Jason's gone, Chidi's gone and Tahani is not suicidal enough so she's some sort of demi-goddess building neighbourhoods."

"But you have other support systems, your friends and parents surely..." She glares at him.

If she was less hurt and lashing out and just less Elleanor she might've thought more before opening her mouth. If Chdi was there he'd ask her about ethical consequences of using her friend as a scapegoat. But was he her friend, really? And well, if Chidi was there they wouldn't be in this mess in the first place.

"You don't understand because you never had a lover. Or a family. It's not your fault Michael, but you don't really comprehend human emotions even after all this time. Like I can't comprend what's behind the fucking door."

He looks wounded, eyes briefly glistening, she ignores pecs of blue stardust and the way all emotion slips from his face. She's not wrong, though, she knows that. This sucks. And since he's in charge it's obvious whose screw up it is.

"... and I know you tried your best but this majorly sucks. You... you fucked up again, bud. Big time."

"Janet, I really don't know what's wrong with Eleanor. She should've left already." He admits it with a defeated whisper. "But instead she's here and angry."

"People often get angry when they can't accept loss."

"Did you come to make up?"

"Make up about what, man? No, no I actually had a question Janet couldn't answer but you can."

"Oh, of course. Is it about Chidi? Again? You know I'm happy to get together to remember him and-"

"No!" It's startingly violent in the peace of his office. Her photo is judging from the wall. "Jason was in that forest for centuries! And you didn't tell anyone, even Janet. As her heart was breaking irl. You knew of course,  it's your good place after all. Not that you care."

He just blinks at her, shocked. Confused.

"Chidi could be sitting on that bench still and no one would tell me, is what I know." She sighs angrily. "You're making me mad, pal. No. No what I need to know, the Judge can manipulate time just like that-" she snaps her fingers.

Michael flinches.

"I can't ask that and even if could, I wouldn't."

His care for ethics and doing the right thing for once, she could appreciate it, except she has no patience for that now.

"This Good Place sucks so much I wish we'd go back to the torture." At least then she wouldn't have to be alone. Not with three hundred demons just for her. Not with her friends. Not with him.

And how dare he be the bigger human? The literal demon?

She makes her mind up then: this place does suck. How? is this the Good Place when she's so fucking miserable. 

...maybe it isn't.

Her memories are slippery and foggy, she's surprised to discover. It never bothered her before. If she focuses hard enough on Chidi and the line of his shoulders and curve of the lips she remembers. With a shudder it hits: she's terrified to forget. But she could never forget him, right?

The years of her second life are the most vivid with Australian heat and her friends' smiles, and then it all speeds up in a blur of Michael& Janet intervention and all she feels when she remembers that time: afraid and alive. So so alive.

Second death and system trial run with Simone and John and what's-his-name is blurry and try as she might she can't fish out the details. She was the architect and they won and then just endless bliss with the man she loves and friendships that she got back and dinner parties at Tahani's and partying Florida style with Jason and millions of sunsets and sunrises with Chidi. Her heart slows down with the phantom touch of his hands on her waist and the warmth that relentlessly spreads across her shoulder blades. Regretfully she shakes her head and lets go.

Most definitely almost nothing of the fake good place. Why can't she...? And try as she might focus on Michael in all of these lifetimes, she quite can't.

The only sane person who could advice her against doing stupid shit abandoned her. And the other one... the less said about him, the better.

"Janet!"

"Hello, Eleanor."

"Janet, why can't I remember?" Of course their Janet doesn't need any further explanations, she gets it.

"Humans aren't equipped to sustain memories of thousands of years."

"But I need to remember before. You have the records of all the reboots and all the times we were in your fake good place?"

"That's correct, although I fail to see the relevance of this information to your current existence." She especially points out "current" and yes, she forking knows. She's in paradise and her soulmate abandoned her, thank you very much. "Please, i need it. Really really need it."

She flicks away the thought of grief and not healing bleeding souls and tear stained pillowcases. She already figured it out 802 times. Can do once more. She just needs some puzzle pieces.

He sits back and puts his palms together like a nest for his chin. It reminds her of their first ever actual meeting. He tried so hard to be approachable and non threatening. He isn't now. Something unnoticeable shifts in his figure, making him look less... Michael-y.

It started with a fight and ended like this. What this she couldn't tell you in million Bearimys.

"I ... this is how promises work." He frowns. "You owe me that, Michael. Oh Michael, paradise sucks do something about it. Michael, my boyfriend had his atoms disassembled and it sucks."

His mockery stings because it almost doesn't seem intentional.

"Yeah yeah, we all get it. You still suck at this human stuff " She's not sincere, is she? "Luckily for you, you have Janet and Tahani and most importantly, me to show you the way. Forever because I can't go through the fucking door after Chidi because I'm not ready."

His gaze is curious and alien. Almost almost innocent.

"Why aren't you ready, Eleanor?"

"Huh?"

He bends his neck to look at her. It's weird and out of place.

"Wait, let me think. You hate being alone. You don't know what to do with yourself. What is your self, even. There's no one to go through the door because you have no idea in hell who you are."

"Fuck you, man."

"Yes, well. When you said you'd rather go back to  the torture you meant it, didn't you?"

She startles but nods defiantly.

"Would you really, Eleanor?" To the clown house, and artificial Janet generated sunlight and so many lies.

"I don't know what to tell you, bud. That's the truth."

He's never been a quitter and that's what got him this far. Too far it seems. Every jar needs a bottom, every ocean a shore, every gravitational force a limit. Maybe that's what he needs. A limit.

"I did fail spectacularly." Failed at what? Ah, who cares. "And for that I'm sorry." Well he should be. Good.

He's silent for the longest time but that doesn't bother her. All they have now is fucking time.

"I took an obligation to you. I promised to take ethics classes, to be part of the team, to do better. To get all of you to the Good Place."

He claps his hands together in an all too familiar gesture.

"Well, we as it happens are in a Good Place. I just never counted on that not being enough for you."

She scoffs. Waits for him to jump and tell her that's all just another level of a Bad Place scheme and she fell for it like a total looser. That all of this is some hallucination Vicky concocted trying to be clever. What? Crazier things had happened.

Time stretches endlessly between them. She still waits for the evil laugh, the prank reveal, the snap even. And none of that comes. He just looks at his hands, they're trembling slightly. She isn't sure what she was expecting but surely not this.

"Consider that obligation fulfilled, then. We don't owe each other anything more, Eleanor Shellstrop."

This time there's no smile on his face and maybe she imagines the regret in the line of his lips.

"What are you trying to say here? First you're acting all angel-y and caring and now you're what? friendship breaking with me?" She blinks away what is surely not tears.

"What does it matter? It's all an act anyway."

Then his voice loses all the inflections reserved just for her, eyes going grey and vacant. His tone is very cheery in the fake architect of the fake good place way. It makes her skin crawl.

"Now, if you as a resident of this Good Place have any concerns or challenges, you may bring them up to a Janet. Have a nice day."

Chapter Text

Well if she had any thoughts of passing on before, she definitely shelves them now in favour of "What the fuck was that?" and "What the hell is his problem?"

Suddenly, horrifyingly, she has no idea who the heck that dude is, surely not Michael. Not even the evilly smiling one from all the times she busted him. That one she knew well. Still looking for an angle. Eyes searching and calculating.

This new Michael sounded like he was breaking some ancient binding to her. Like he was done done. Well, unfortunately for him she isn't.

These particular memories catch her unawares. One, it's the usual lame torture and confrontation sequence. Most times she confronts him, some it's enough just to look at her and he

...snaps his fingers. She's on the sofa, everything is great sign welcoming her for whichever time. Michael is sitting next to her, stubble over his chin and cheeks, hair disheveled, no bow tie, shirt a boring white, the suit jacket even more boring grey. It matches his equally dull pants, plain socks no stripes no funny pictures. Eleanor knows she is in the Bad Place and he is a demon and this is all part of the torture. She also checked him out enough times to know that evil or not he has a dress-code. He likes his dress-code, so something is off.

Her friends are out there, blissfully unaware that their paradise is fake. Variations of them being sweet and brave and heartbreakingly human swim in her head, they might not be good people, or even good enough, but they're hers now.

Then, maybe Mindy St. Claire's  torture is worse than their own. They got kinship, love, happiness together. They matter to someone. The woman in the Mid Place is stuck in her irrelevant numbness.

And she remembers everything, all the endless loops, because that's what she suggested after telling him how lame his torture was. So lame a mere human figured it out (again - what do you mean again?) and "bud, we may be stuck with you. But you're stuck with us too."

He interrupts her trip.

"You pointed it out. My torture sucked. But you know, suspension of disbelief. Only as tortured as you're self aware and unlucky you."

He looks and sounds in ways that are incredibly off. Like an actual scary demon might. 

"You know you almost figured it out, we couldn't send any of you to the Bad Place with lava pits and scorpions. A pity. Not how the deal goes, can't do anything unless you allow that. And none of you believed you deserved a jacuzzi with snakes."

"So..." A realisation hits her. "You  can't do anything to me now either?"

He scowls. She's safe with a literal demon as long as she believes he can't really hurt her. How ridiculous.

"To each according to their faith. Everyone," he leaned closer conversely, enough for her to feel the absence of breath on her cheek, "gets just what they deserve. Exactly that. Nothing more, nothing less. And you Eleanor think you deserve a lot of things. Not all of them pleasant."

Eleanor is sure she'll get rebooted at the end either way, she'll just try to stretch it out as far as possible.

"Michael? What's gonna happen to my friends?"

He takes his time, stretching out near her like a lizard in the sun, crossing one leg over another.

"Nothing. The usual. They will be going through the motions, believing they're in the Good Place. And you'll let them.

Now, let's see how you'd run this show in a less lame way. Come on, you had so many ideas."

It's bad. He's curious and his eyes are bright in a foreign way that creeps her out. She calls his 15 million point plan a mild inconvenience. Its not even conscious sabotage (though that would be cool) she had way worse on Earth.

"Do you want me to recreate the world hunger, housing crisis and capitalism altogether while we're at it?"

"Well, most of our suffering comes from the fact that we're basically dumb monkeys. We need food. We get sick. We don't sleep enough and binge watch TV and drink alcohol. All very bad for our fragile little bodies."

He looks struck. Verging on angry? and confused. The only two emotions, right.

"That is your brilliant solution? Use your flesh pain to make you suffer? Like the system did for the last forever years?"

"What else do you want from me dude? You know, when I was alive my shoulder used to hurt like a bench every-time the temperature dropped. It doesn't anymore. Im not getting my period-

"Because you're dead! You don't need to reproduce, why'd you be getting your menstruation cycles?"

"Yes, so no period cramps either. I'm not getting even a hangover. I eat what I want and don't gain weight. I have an ugly house but it's mine and I live in it and don't have to pay rent or mortgage. And that's the dream for 90% of America. Sorry to burst your bubble, pal, we're not that advanced."

Yeah the demon trying to torture her solved most of the world problems better than Greenpeace hippies or United Nations ever could. And he was sad about it, poor baby.

"No no no, that can't be it. What about emotions? Feeling unloved? Alone? Depressed? Hurting others?" She moves a little away from him, man looking a lil crazy.

"Well, after a year or two there's no point in hurting each other. Tahani was a bench a few reboots ago but we're chill now. Jason and Chidi are cool in small doses, even hanging out with you is not the worst."

He gets up and stumbles back away from her.

"I'm a demon. Your jailer. Your torturer. You should despise me and instead you say hanging out with me is not the worst? What is wrong with you?"

"I mean, I figure I was going" she points down, "either way. But i'm not listening to jazz or throwing baby showers every day and my butt is spider free! That's a win in my book. Plus the way this all freaks you out is kinda cute. Yeah, I'm good."

She's definitely getting rebooted right about now and she doesn't even regret it.

...she's in her clown-free house in the actual paradise. Everything around her feels like Chidi and wow Janet really was right, humans aren't equipped to remember that much stuff.

The white shirt. He was wearing that boring suit with a white shirt when he broke off their friendship (God get a grip, Shellstrop) that's what was off. He gave up on grooming and colour matching when he was going through it.

And so what if she can make anywhere her personal Bad Place? He's still stuck in there with her.

She barges into his office uninvited but not unexpected.

He's sitting there with his stupid guitar that he still can't play, doesn't even look up. White shirt, suit jacket - black folded over the chair.

"Came to say goodbye? You already know where the Door is but i'm sure Janet will show you anyway."

"No, you asshole! What was that about not hurting me because I believe you can't."

"Ah, that. Reboot 627. Receiving as much as you believe you deserve," he corrects her absentmindedly, "no less and no more."

"And me?"

"What about you?"

"Was it all fake? The judge deal, our lives, the tests?"

"No no no, why'd you think that? That was pure unadulterated faith. You bet it was real. You decided you deserved the Good Place. You believed that Michael would guard you, protect you from everything and get you there. And I did. None of you hurt, none of you" he smiles, eyes dark and intense, "ending up in the Bad Place or worse, alone. Which is just the same thing, isn't it?"

"Yeah yeah isolation, pain, madness all the good stuff. What was that about you being done?"

"Existence is a collaborative process Eleanor. Both parties need to be willing for it to work. Free will, you were there when I got mine. And as you helpfully pointed out, this sucks. I'm out."

"Like you torture me for centuries and it's ok but I say one time that you suck and you throw in the towel? The faith card not working anymore?"

"Yeah, you can put it this way, your faith card just got declined." Michael finally puts the guitar away, carefully props it against the wall. "It was more than one time and you said, I quote "This good place sucks so much I wish we'd go back to torture." So, well, you're welcome. None of it matters anymore. Enjoy your eternity."

That should be it. Should be.

"I refuse." Naturally, it's not.

"Are you... are you fucking kidding me? Eleanor, I was being serious. I'm done." Let her figure out her identity crisis and go. Please.

"Well, I'm not. I know I've been a shitty friend and a problematic resident this past... nevermind. But you can't kick people out of here, I checked with Janet. You're stuck with me."

He can't help himself, he gives her a fond look and laughs.

"Michael", it's said innocently enough. "How much time have you been inside the suit?"

"This one?" he looks down at the suit jacket puzzled. "A few hours. Why? Janet said the colour really works for my complexion and she can perceive both in ultra and infra spectrums, so i'd rather believe her." It's a boring ash grey suit, of course it would suit anyone.

"No, dummy, you human suit."

Oh, well he's upset now, it's been eons since they discussed particularities of what's exactly behind this handsome visage. Since they really talked, to be honest.Since she shut up and listening to what he has to say.

"A few thousand bearimys."

"Can you spell that for me in human years bud, I'm really not in the mood for the angel maths."

His frown deepened. "Millenia. Two or three, give or take a few hundred years."

"Why the sudden interrogation, Eleanor?" His eyes are kinda dark behind the glass, she notes suddenly. The shadows of his eyebrows don't help. But he can't hurt her, because she refuses to give up and well, turns out she's not alone in the Good Place. Actual or not, ask her some other time.

"It's just weird that Tahani mastered architecting faster than you did the guitar."