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Elizabeth didn’t mean to go looking through Michael’s memories. Honest! Up until today, she hadn’t even known it was something she could do . Elizabeth didn't mean to be nosey, she really didn’t, since Daddy always says a nosey person is the worst sort of person.
But these days Michael’s never there and she was so, so bored. Plus there’s only so long she can listen to the twisting and writhing and chattering of the disgruntled spirits she shares Ennard with, before she starts to go a little crazy herself. She already has to stop and remind herself who she is several times a day (she is Elizabeth Afton, she lives at the end of a very long driveway, she has two brothers, she died when she was eight years old, she likes the color pink and stargazing. There were certainly more facts on this at some point, but she’s been here so long. Anyway, they’re probably the important facts.) Regardless, it’s easier to Know when she’s focused on a goal. Hence, finding her stupid older brother.
It takes a bit of searching to figure out where he went, see, because half of the place she’s inhabiting is clean, sterile metal, that she can move around, about, and through easily, but the other half is weird, complicated flesh and bone. That’s all Michael. (Plus, she thinks, she’d have a much easier time getting around Michael’s brain, if he’d stop kicking her out. ) She thinks about this while she claws her way around a messy ball of self-loathing.
Where would Michael hide? She knows that when they were kids, he’d always run off to Freddy’s (as if no one would find him there! Dummy.) But he knows that she’d know that, she puzzles, so surely he’d go somewhere else. Somewhere he’d never stay— home . Elizabeth casts out her senses, ignoring the incessant humming of Balora and Freddy’s screams, and there! Now that she knows what she’s looking for, Michael’s path seems obvious. He’d put up a wall of regret and terrible sadness around the memories, but he’d definitely been there.
She follows his footsteps, down, down, deep into memories that flash by at breakneck speed. Some of them, the was there for: countless family dinners, Evan’s funeral, taco tuesday nights, but some of them she wasn’t: Michael and that blonde girl he was always hanging out with, chatting on the roof, Michael sweeping the living room, Michael greeting police at the door as they informed him of his sister’s disappearance. Elizabeth shies away from those memories, refocusing on her task.
And just like that, she’s standing in front of the door to Michael’s room.
Oh, she thinks as she looks down at herself. She has a body again, clad in the same jean skirt and pink shirt she’d been wearing when she died. This must be how Michael remembers her. For a moment, she’s distracted, bending her knees and wiggling her fingers. It’s been a bit since she could do either of those things. Then she claps her hands together, and revels in the soft smack of her palms hitting each other, rather than the clang of Circus Baby’s huge metal hands. Time to find her brother, he must be behind the door. She can feel it.
Elizabeth nudges the door open to an unfamiliar room. Well, sort of. It’s surely Michael’s room, but…far more bare. She’s used to clutter, his dumb rock-band posters hung up, music blaring, while her brother yells at her to scram. This room is sterile. Just a calendar declaring ‘August 1988’, an end table and a bed, where Michael is sitting.
Only he’s not alone, slumped like a puppet whose strings had been cut, leaning on the shoulder of another man she’s never seen before. The guy’s head looks really messed up, though, caved in to one side, like someone had just…taken some of it away, and a gnarled scar takes up most of the left side of his face. The man isn’t moving at all, not even breathing or anything, which is how Elizabeth knows he’s a memory, not one of her head-mates. Michael isn’t moving either, just sort of leaning against the guy, staring into space. They’re holding hands, Elizabeth notes. Gross. She doesn’t want to think about her brother holding hands with people. So she decides to speak up.
“Michael,” she says, and his head whips up. He looks, in a word, horrified to see her. He immediately jumps to his feet, moving in front of the man, as if to hide him. Too late, Elizabeth already saw him. Gosh, her brother's dumb.
“How are you here?” He demands, and Elizabeth shrugs. She’s not sure exactly. Mind-magicky stuff.
“I was lookin’ for you,” she says instead. “I’m bored .”
“You can’t be here,’ Michael hisses. And he looks angry, so angry. And scared. She doesn’t know why he’s scared. It’s just them here, none of the other spirits would be smart enough to find them. And now Elizabeth feels a little scared too, because if Michael’s afraid, then maybe there really is something to be worried about. Elizabeth feels her eyes welling with tears. Stupid eyes. She’s forgotten how to hold them back, it’s been so long.
“Yes I can!” She cries. “It’s my mind too!”
“No it’s not,” Michael grits out, taking a step towards her. Elizabeth stands her ground, crossing her arms petulantly.
“Is so.”
“No. No, it’s not. It’s my mind, my fucking mind, and you and all your little parasites have–have infected me. And I want you to get out!” Michael’s face has gone a little red from yelling, it doesn’t need to be red, since he’s just a spirit, but he’s making it red, and–and Michael hates her , Elizabeth realizes. He hates her and he’s afraid of her and she just wanted to see her brother.
Elizabeth bursts into sobs, deep, gulping sobs that wrack her entire body. The sort that Michael used to fall to his knees and wipe at her cheeks and tell her everything would be okay. Michael doesn't do that. He just stands there, still in front of the stupid frozen missing-head guy who he’d rather hang out with than her.
“I j-j-just missed you,” Elizabeth blubbers. “You’re never here and I-I’m alone . And I miss you!” She cries, and Michael says nothing, just stands there and waits for her to stop. Which she does, after several minutes.
“Are you done?” Michael asks. He doesn’t sound angry anymore. Just really tired. Elizabeth hiccups and nods. “Elizabeth, that’s who I’m talking to, right?” Elizabeth nods again. Stupid Michael, who else would it be? Michael seems unconvinced by her response, but shifts his weight and mutters something to himself, before he speaks again. “I want you to leave. Do you understand? I don’t want you here. ”
“You’re being mean!” She shrieks, suddenly angry at his calmness . “You’d rather hide in your dumb memories, than with us!” She hadn’t meant to say us, but when she does, her voice seems to double—the other spirits layering over her voice. Their voice? Michael’s eyes widen as they step towards him. He’s afraid again. Good . (No… no . They are– She’s Elizabeth Afton.) “I’m gonna…I’m gonna,” Elizabeth casts around for a threat. “I’ll find your friend, and I’ll be really, really mean to him, if you don’t stay with us!” It’s a bad threat. She doesn’t know who this guy is, she doesn’t know where he lives, and she isn’t certain what she’d do if she did know. Kill him probably? Michael inhales sharply, as if she’d said something really, really bad.
“Don’t,” he says softly. “Please, don’t.” Elizabeth finds herself a little uncomfortable by how quickly Michael backed down. It makes her feel like maybe she is being really scary, and she didn’t want to scare Michael that bad. She just wants her brother back.
“Okay, I won’t. If you come back with me,” she says, trotting to his side and reaching for his hand. “And don’t go away again.” Michael hesitates, looking at her hand, then casting a glance back at the man sitting at the edge of the bed. He hasn’t moved, can’t of course, he’s not real. Elizabeth tugs his hand impatiently.
“Okay,” Michael says. “I’m coming.”
Elizabeth manages a watery smile, satisfied. She’s got her brother back, even if he hates her, he's here, and she’s got a way to make sure he won’t go away again.
(She is Elizabeth Afton, she has a brother. She has a brother.)