Michael nods. He's not going to argue her decision; he understands the sentiment. As painful as some of the memories he lives with may be, there are still valuable lessons within them. Erasing them doesn't actually undo the damage, anyway.
"I'm allowed to do whatever I care to—but as you're well aware, I have a temper. Feeling over something I can't change isn't helpful."
Had to bring up the diner, didn't you? Michael pulls a face, brows furrowed. Claire's earned the right to comment on his behaviour without triggering an all new fit of temper, but he's still not happy about it. That was an embarrassing lack of control on his part.
His expression levels out, and he looks into his mug.
"I tore my brother's arm off, you know. After he told me he chooses the humans of Thorne over me, over his real family. He grabbed me and all I could see was red." Blue, actually, the colour of grace, but he translates to the human equivalent so she'll better understand. "Do you remember much of what I've said about Lucifer? How he so loathed humanity he started a fight with our Father that tore our whole family apart? I assumed he'd found a few he considered exceptions to the rule, but apparently not. He still thinks them abominations. He prefers their company regardless. He spent eight hundred years building a new family, only visiting me every hundred years or so to show me what monsters he could still make of humans."
This is maybe not exactly what the intention had been, but this is how the memory has gotten twisted in the aftermath of it all.
"As for my home. My Father never succeeded in destroying it. I remain dead, but everything else was restored. Adam is back in college, studying medicine. Did I ever mention he wanted to be a doctor? He seemed happy."
Which is good. But Adam is happy without him, and Michael is not happy without Adam. What is he supposed to do with that—with this knowledge that all those he cares for are better off without him, that they are happier for it?
no subject
"I'm allowed to do whatever I care to—but as you're well aware, I have a temper. Feeling over something I can't change isn't helpful."
Had to bring up the diner, didn't you? Michael pulls a face, brows furrowed. Claire's earned the right to comment on his behaviour without triggering an all new fit of temper, but he's still not happy about it. That was an embarrassing lack of control on his part.
His expression levels out, and he looks into his mug.
"I tore my brother's arm off, you know. After he told me he chooses the humans of Thorne over me, over his real family. He grabbed me and all I could see was red." Blue, actually, the colour of grace, but he translates to the human equivalent so she'll better understand. "Do you remember much of what I've said about Lucifer? How he so loathed humanity he started a fight with our Father that tore our whole family apart? I assumed he'd found a few he considered exceptions to the rule, but apparently not. He still thinks them abominations. He prefers their company regardless. He spent eight hundred years building a new family, only visiting me every hundred years or so to show me what monsters he could still make of humans."
This is maybe not exactly what the intention had been, but this is how the memory has gotten twisted in the aftermath of it all.
"As for my home. My Father never succeeded in destroying it. I remain dead, but everything else was restored. Adam is back in college, studying medicine. Did I ever mention he wanted to be a doctor? He seemed happy."
Which is good. But Adam is happy without him, and Michael is not happy without Adam. What is he supposed to do with that—with this knowledge that all those he cares for are better off without him, that they are happier for it?