Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It had turned into another late night at the office. Audrey sat at her desk, meticulously drawing one in an endless stream of animation cells for Archgate Films’ latest cartoon. The feature had one of the studio’s icons, inherited from the now defunct Joey Drew Studios—Bendy, the Dancing Demon—using his skills as a tap-dancer to earn enough money to earn enough money to buy movie theater tickets for himself and Alice Angel, an implied love interest.

Audrey was using her skills as well… to do a solid portion of the project. Once again. The other animators had long since clocked-out and gone home. They saw the animation process as just a 9-to-5 job to pay their bills, and she didn’t blame them for that.

For her co-workers, it really was just a job. But, for her, it was a veritable way of life about which she still had a lot to learn. And her reasons for doing so, in the truest sense, were important to the future of hundreds of souls. Even the most dedicated person could only work for so long before weariness threatened to overwhelm her, though, so help to alleviate its symptoms for a while was necessary.

“All right, Audrey,” she said, pushing back from the work desk on her swivel chair. “Some coffee, one more hour of drawing, and then I’m homeward bound.”

There was a sudden movement out of the corner of one eye. A massive, horned shadow flashed across the wall.

Audrey gasped and twisted about in alarm. Standing there, holding a saucer with a cup of coffee perched on it, was Bendy. The imp looked a great deal like the sketch she was working on, instead rather than wear nothing but a white bowtie, he wore a dapper, black suit with a red bowtie. Both versions sported grins on their faces, favored white gloves, and had oval heads that drifted about an inch above their forms—although the grin of the Bendy in front of her wavered in uncertainty, and he retreated a step. She followed his glance downwards, to where her fingertips were digging into the armrests.

Audrey relaxed her fingers, managing a small smile. “Oh, Bendy, it’s only you,” she said with a sigh, gently gesturing for him to come forward and accepting the coffee. “Thank you, little guy. You’re quite the thoughtful demon.”

Hearing the praise, Bendy’s grin widened, his pie-cut eyes sparkled, and he bounced on his heels with pride.

Audrey took a sip. “And, oh my, it’s so good! I think this is your best cup of coffee yet!” It was true. Ever since Bendy had joined her around a week ago in what she defined as “The Real World,” making tasty blends of coffee had become just one of the many ways the cartoonish demon had helped her out. None of her other co-workers knew he existed, nor did her boss, thank goodness. He was too good at hiding in the shadows and in all the nooks and crannies that people generally overlooked.

As she reached out to pat him between his small horns, Audrey could only wonder at how much the knowledge of her very existence had grown in such a short amount of time—ever since Wilson the janitor had taken her into The Ink World found through The Ink Machine. An inky universe crafted by, she now knew, her late father, Joey Drew, and over which The Ink Demon had dominated. Mind-boggling as that revelation had been, it in some ways paled in comparison to learning Wilson was the estranged son of her boss, Nathan Arch, who had headed a project to seal away The Ink Demon while seeking to control The Ink World and all its inhabitants.

At least Wilson was gone now, and as far as she could tell, there had been no evidence of the whole adventure. No one had seemed to miss the janitor yet, and all was calm down on the floor where an exhibition dedicated to Joey Drew Studios was all set up for any journalists or similar visitors coming to learn more about “Joey Drew: The Man and the Demon”—although Audrey did note someone had curtained off the room leading to where The Ink Machine resided.

All in all, the daily grind had thankfully progressed as usual at Archgate Films. Even if some of her co-workers did mention having lunches and other simple items, including watches and the like, disappear. At least they had for the first two days until Audrey had had a discussion with Bendy about taking food and things known as “personal possessions,” whereupon lunches never vanished again and the missing items happened to turn up in various locations.

Bendy…

During her time animating his cartoons, and in her vague, childhood memories of him, Audrey had always conceived of Bendy the Dancing Demon as a mischievous, lighthearted trickster who got into any number of crazy antics. The kind of activities that, specifically, children had loved to watch, and which had tended to even entertain parents when the cartoons would pop up before much longer films at the theater back in the 1930s and 1940s.

Meanwhile, the newer cartoons that Audrey and her part of the animation department created got shown on television, slipped between other animated features and live-action films from their studio. Little by little, viewing audiences now in the 1970s were getting reintroduced to Bendy, Boris the ever-hungry wolf, and the sweet singer who was Alice Angel.

The living Bendy she knew, in some ways, inspired in her the thrill of meeting the character she helped to animate. Except this one just so happened to keep The Ink Demon at bay through his very presence.

He was a silent but sweet soul who clearly sought out her warmth and recognition. Maybe because she had been his first friend. His first true friend. Someone who didn’t try to harm or perform experiments on him, as Wilson and members from the Gent Corporation had done.

Such recollections only made her heart melt a little more towards him, as it did right then. “Well, I do appreciate you would go out of your way to get me some coffee,” Audrey slowly stood. “But I should probably take a break to stretch my legs, anyway. Besides,” and here she reached underneath her desk for a sizable shoulder bag, “I happen to have tucked away some cocoa powder in my bag here, alongside a coloring book with crayons. So, I thought maybe we could—”

The rest of what she had to say got drowned out by Bendy breaking into an enthusiastic tap-dance at this happy news. He loved chocolate, especially hot cocoa. Audrey chuckled at his performance, even as she studied his moves with her keen animator’s eye; more than a few of those steps were sure to find their way into the cartoon she was drawing.

“Given that you’ve just come from the breakroom with coffee, and I seem to have such a hard time finding it, maybe you could lead me there safely?” This mock question was her own private joke. The last time Audrey had gone for a cup of coffee, she had unexpectedly veered off-course through The Ink Machine. What mattered the most to her, though, was the joy guiding her somewhere gave Bendy. He tugged her along with such ardent glee that she sometimes had to remind him to calm down a bit, so she wouldn’t spill her drink.

They were almost there, passing a window that looked out onto the New York City streets, when a loud, crackling boom echoed overhead, followed by swift but heavy rainfall. Bendy instantly broke away from her and dived underneath the nearest desk, which belonged to another co-worker who, from the looks of it, was almost done with the movie theater background for the cartoon. It was elaborate and beautifully detailed, but Audrey only glanced at the artwork for a moment before kneeling on the floor.

“Hey there, Bendy, it’s okay,” she soothed. “It’s just rain with some thunder, that’s all.”

The cartoon imp gazed at her from the shadows, still trembling. Like a terrified kitten.

Audrey had become used to coaxing him out of any number of hiding spots throughout the building. The poor guy often took fright at the slightest disturbance or thing that struck him as odd or threatening, which considering his origins made a tragic amount of sense.

Sometimes he still seemed uncertain and very nervous around her as well, although Audrey knew it was mostly her fault. The memories of her horror-filled journey through The Ink World were still fresh in her mind, pursued by The Ink Demon at almost every turn, and Bendy could move around just as quietly and stealthily. More than a few times he had startled her so terribly at her work desk, when trying to do an act as simple as offering her a fresh pen, that she had needed to do entire sketches over again. Her reflexes would kick in, and each time they did, all she could do was pretend nothing was wrong.

It was all in vain, though. Because Bendy clearly did notice he put her on edge sometimes. He had even refused to come home with her, instead choosing to remain hidden in the building until she came back in for work—and Audrey was, to be honest, never actually at home for very long, anyway.

She held out a hand. “Here, let me show you. Don’t worry, I’ll be here the whole time.”

After almost a minute, Bendy took her hand and let her guide him towards the window to point out the rain and explain the thunder. Bendy shuddered when another rumble sounded, but this time he just squeezed her hand tighter and pressed harder against her side.

Then Audrey reminded him about the hot cocoa, and once again got tugged mercilessly towards their initial destination—with great relief.

The breakroom at Archgate Films was simple in design but practical. There were a few soft chairs and a couch arranged around a coffee table at one end, while along the far wall were conveniences like a modest refrigerator, a sink, a stove with a mirror hanging above it, and a cupboard in which to tuck away silverware, cups, and various dishes. There was a table with chairs nearby. A stool had been pushed near the stove, with a phone book placed atop it just thick enough for a small demon to stand on and tend a kettle on a front burner.

Audrey pulled out the coloring book and crayons. She handed them to Bendy, who looked like he had just received the best Christmas presents ever. “All right, then, little guy,” she said. “Why don’t you start coloring, and I’ll brew up some hot cocoa? Then you can show me what you’ve done.”

Bendy rushed to the table, excited to start coloring in the latest pictures, which in this case consisted of a variety of fluffy bunnies and ducks. They had seemed the safest bet, and as Bendy opened the box of crayons to pick through the colors, his earlier fright completely forgotten.

Humming gently, Audrey refilled the kettle with water and began to heat it up. She set out a mason jar filled with hot cocoa mix on the counter off to one side. She even pulled out a small container of honey, an added surprise for Bendy.

“Audrey,” the hiss echoed in her mind.

She glanced at a mirror on the wall nearby, which should have reflected Bendy at the table. Instead, she found herself peering right into the face of The Ink Demon.

Long horns protruded from the top, soaked in dark, oozing ink that also covered most of the face aside from a skeletal jaw that had teeth that were much sharper than they looked. He was glaring at her from the mirror.

The first time Audrey had seen this vision, she had nearly lunged for cover herself, believing that Bendy had transformed back into The Ink Demon who had ruthlessly pursued her and so many others throughout The Ink World. Except, when she checked, Bendy was always there, his simple, kind self. The extent and influence of The Ink Demon appeared to be in his reflection. Instinctive terror had gradually ebbed somewhat since then.

Audrey pushed some strands of hair away from her eyes. “Good evening, Ink Demon.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” It was accusing, spitting.

But Audrey replied, “Making hot cocoa, of course. Or maybe you don’t know. I’ve meant to ask just how much you are aware of when sealed away.” She mainly said it to keep her own nerves steady, because despite his entrapment, The Ink Demon still rattled her. A small part of her was curious, but she had also found The Ink Demon tended to avoid answering most questions about himself.

Indeed, as if to prove her point, The Ink Demon growled, “How long do you intend to play nice with that pathetic vessel?”

“Bendy is not pathetic, and he is more than just a vessel.” This time, Audrey’s nerves didn’t need any assistance. “And I’m not ‘playing nice.’ Bendy is a sweet little guy, and he deserves to be treated well.”

The Ink Demon snorted. “You only indulge him to make yourself feel in control, to pretend you have conquered me.” Venom dripped from that final word.

“Bendy is my friend,” Audrey snapped back, her nerves forgotten in a protective surge.

“Liar. You are terrified of him.” His cackle was dry and mirthless. “You know that at any moment, I might burst free from my fragile prison and claim you.” The skeletal jaws gnashed together into a wicked grimace. “You know I would drag you into the Dark Puddles once again, at the first chance. Never to emerge again.”

“That’s not—”

“It is true.”

Audrey paused, because what The Ink Demon said had indeed struck a chord of truth within her. She did worry about The Ink Demon breaking free, sometimes, into the larger world. Even though it had yet to happen. It hadn’t been fair to Bendy. She needed to do better for his sake. For all their sakes.

Her fingers curled into fists.

Another cackle echoed through her head. “We are Monsters. Mistakes. Nothing more. Meant to be feared by all.” The way he made this declaration, and his insistence upon it, called to mind a similar statement made while in The Ink World. Right before The Ink Demon had absorbed her, and Audrey had become a part of his powered-up form.

Audrey could remember the terror that had threatened to consume her, of having her very identity swallowed by the ink. There was a sense of despair and resignation to the darkness. A portion of that had been hers, without a doubt, and perhaps another segment had belonged to Bendy, somewhere. However, there were also overwhelming memories of agony at the hands of others, of lashing out at a fair and cruel universe where nothing mattered amid constant time loops, and loneliness. Intense loneliness.

Looking at The Ink Demon, Audrey thought of those memories, and murmured, “We may have been born from darkness, but that doesn’t mean we belong to it.”

“What?” The Ink Demon spat.

Audrey sighed and gazed steadily at him. “We are in a fresh Cycle, with a new opportunity to live and become who we want to be.” The kettle was bubbling. Any moment now, it would start to whistle. “The past is what it is, and we can’t change it. Even so, I plan to create my own future, and to make the future better for everyone in The Ink World. I’m their protector.”

“Pretty words,” The Ink Demon snorted. “But meaningless. The next time you enter my world,” he snarled, “you’re mine.”

Audrey slipped her hand into her bag, brushing the spine of the sketchbook left to her by Joey Drew with her fingertips. “The three of us could agree to protect The Ink World together,” she remarked, not looking at him.

Now the kettle was whistling, so Audrey switched off the heat on the stove. She scooped hot cocoa powder into two mugs. The Ink Demon snarled and roared his threats and indignities in the background, while she poured some hot water and retrieved a glass bottle of milk from the refrigerator.

She had just added the milk to the drinks when The Ink Demon declared, “We will never share common interests. We are enemies.”

“Maybe I should leave out the honey, then?”

“No!” The force of the response made The Ink Demon’s image ripple, only to gradually settle down as they stared at each other—the implications of what had just happened sinking in as well. Audrey wasn’t even sure why she had dared to ask the question. Perhaps it was because she was reaching the point where she was more tired than terrified of The Ink Demon’s hostility, which made her unexpectedly bold. And that boldness, it seemed, had produced a result Audrey hadn’t expected.

The Ink Demon must have seen her sudden smile, although she tried to look away and hide it while squirting honey into both mugs. “I loathe you, Audrey,” he raged.

Well, if she had already doomed herself, perhaps she could chance digging a deeper hole. “I know you don’t believe in much, Ink Demon, due to all the suffering you and Bendy have gone through.” Her voice was calm and quiet. “But I’m going to show you that there are things to love and worthy enough to protect. Kindness does exist on its own.”

The Ink Demon huffed in derision yet stayed quiet. Apparently, their conversation was at an end for the moment.

Audrey brought the hot cocoa back to the table. Bendy had just finished coloring a page that featured a rabbit painting an Easter egg. He presented it to her proudly when she sat down.

“Wow, what a lovely picture!” Audrey exclaimed, as she pushed one of the hot cocoa mugs towards Bendy. “And here’s your reward.”

Bendy pounced on the sweet drink, gratefully gulping it down as Audrey flicked through the other pages in the coloring book and enjoyed her own drink. He had already fully colored in more than nine other pages, some of them with polka dot and striped patterns in creative places. She had to smile at his handiwork. Maybe, she thought, he might just be able to help her out with her animation projects. A cartoon character working to create a cartoon feature starring himself.

That was when another massive boom sounded noticeably overhead, the breakroom lights flickered, and everything got plunged into darkness.

Audrey was at once uncomfortably reminded of the darkness that had wrapped around her when Wilson pulled her into the ink to drown in it with him, or her reemergence from it each time a hostile, inky, humanoid Lost One or other danger had overwhelmed and eliminated her—only for Audrey to appear gasping from ink fountains scattered all over the place. She always came back, worried that she wouldn’t be so lucky the next time.

And then there were the times The Ink Demon had caught up with her.

In this darkness, the table chair nearby went tumbling over. She heard one of the mugs, likely hers, fall over and spill its contents onto the titled floor below, heard the shuffle of hurried movement close at hand, and felt something brush past her knees under the table.

A memory flashed through her mind of inky lines flickering everywhere around her, then disappearing as if The Ink Demon had decided to leave her alone—right before he suddenly seized her in a crippling grip around the legs.

No. Audrey shook her head. That had been in The Ink World.

She wasn’t there anymore.

It wasn’t The Ink Demon, but Bendy, who she heard get out from underneath the table, slip on the puddle of hot cocoa, and hit the floor. He made one of his very rare sounds, something that sounded close to a shrill, frightened yelp.

Audrey slipped from her chair to the floor, reaching for him. She felt the imp jerk in her hold, ready to yank away, and she said, “Bendy, it’s okay, it’s just me.” Bendy paused, trembling terribly. Just like she had done in the darkness of The Ink World, so often. Just as she was doing now. “I—” she began, then swallowed. “It can be scary in the dark. I still get scared too, but it’s just darkness, and not us.” She rubbed his shoulder, moist from falling in the hot cocoa.

Her words came out awkward in the stillness. Of course, Audrey wasn’t sure what it was right to say in that tense moment, when they were both grappling with past fears. “We may come from darkness,” she recited again, remembering her father’s kind face as he gazed at her, “but that doesn’t mean we belong to it.” Audrey clasped his gloved hands and peered at where she hoped his face would be as she said, “I’m sorry to have worried you, and I want you know that even though you have been alone so often before, you will never be alone ever again. I promise.”

A moment of silence passed.

Arms flung around her neck in an embrace. Bendy’s cheeks were wet as he shook with quiet sobs. It was the first time Bendy had hugged her. Audrey had never tried to hug him before, worried that she might make him uncomfortable.

Now she reached around and hugged him back, making soft, shushing sounds.

They remained like that for several minutes until the lights flickered back on, when Audrey helped to wipe away Bendy’s tears with a handkerchief from her bag. Holding each other by the hand the whole time, they cleaned up the mess and put everything away. Then Audrey had an important question to ask him. “Would you like to come home with me?” to which Bendy tearfully nodded his assent.

As Audrey carried him out of the room, she peered over her shoulder at the mirror again. There was just enough of a reflection present to glimpse The Ink Demon staring at her, although it was impossible to know exactly what he was thinking at that moment.

What she was certain of, however, was this moment of connection was among the first true steps in ensuring the inhabitants of The Ink World had a happy future—starting with one of its most deserving souls.

Chapter Text

A door creaked open to reveal a narrow hallway lined with posters. Each one advertised an old Bendy cartoon from Joey Drew Studios, although they appeared ragged and were stained by the ink that seeped out through cracks in the walls. Hidden pipes made thumping and other ominous noises.

“All right, Joey, I’m here,” Henry said. “Let’s see if we can find what you wanted me to see.” He had been the co-founder of Joey Drew Studios, been driven to overwork himself to exhaustion, and had had many of his creative ideas claimed by his former friend—only to then be tricked into returning to the studio 30 years later.

What he had found was a nightmare. Winding hallways. Inky, partially humanoid Searchers grabbing at him from dark puddles. Twisted versions of the main antagonists of the Bendy cartoons, The Butcher Gang, assaulting him at every turn. An insane Alice Angel sending him on dangerous errands. And The Ink Demon, brought to life by Joey Drew through The Ink Machine—gnarled, soulless, and driven mad by years of isolation and constant abuse.

After many trials, Henry would face off against The Ink Demon and play a reel of film with the words “The End” taped onto the side. And each time the reel played, Henry would return to the first hall in the studio and announce that Joey Drew had sent him there.

Henry was a “cyclebreaker.” Someone who had learned to rewind the path of events. Except nothing ever changed for him. He made the same choices, he watched the same companions suffer on his behalf, and he plunged ever deeper into despair. Far from his fondly remembered wife and idyllic life built elsewhere.

Then Wilson and his Keepers came along… and Henry realized he could never go home.

***

“Henry,” Audrey murmured, opening her eyes.

She had fallen asleep at her desk again. Not the desk at her workplace, of course. She would have never dared to lay down her head at Archgate Films. Rather, she was at her apartment, slumped over the desk set up in her room.

Audrey had never seen much reason to decorate the place. There were old posters, just as had been in the peculiar dreams she had experienced that featured Henry, albeit hers were framed and in much better repair. A few certificates of recognition from her boss hung around them. Her small bed was nice and neat, mostly because she hadn’t slept in it. To be fair, however, the room itself had seen more activity in recent days. Specifically, in and around the corner with her desk. Enlarged architectural layouts and maps, drawn out by her hand, were thumbtacked to the walls directly above it.

Strewn across her desk were more drawings and diagrams Audrey had made of The Ink World, depicting various locations recalled from her trip that troubled realm, but also stumbled across through the pictures in her father’s sketchbook.

The sketchbook rested amid all the clutter, opened to the description of Henry Stein as written by Joey Drew himself. It was becoming an all-too-familiar, tragic story. Seeking to get petty revenge on his partner for leaving him to start a family, Joey Drew had created his inky double in The Ink World to torture in a continuous loop.

Audrey had spent most of the night previous reading the basic outline for Henry’s journey and seen the images sketched for him to experience, hence the vivid dream and the sick churning in the pit of her stomach this morning. Because her father… had been a complicated person. She had trouble figuring out exactly how to feel about him, and now clearing up his past mistakes had become one of her greatest challenges.

One major problem was in deciding the best way to move forward and help the inhabitants of The Ink World to lead better existences. Including Henry.

The Ink World version of her father had said Joey Drew had used The Ink Machine to create that realm, but she was still unclear as to how the whole process had worked. That is, until Audrey started to notice subtle changes on the pages of the sketchbook. They were small things, such as objects shown on a street near the subway being moved around. Things that someone could possibly convince themselves had been that way the whole time.

But Audrey was good at noticing details. Her favorite game used to be “spot-the-difference” in the newspaper. And these differences that she kept spotting suggested an intriguing possibility.

Perhaps the sketchbook itself was a product of The Ink Machine, created for Joey Drew’s convenience in forming The Ink World, which meant making changes there could get reflected there. It was a wild idea, and something that she would need to explore carefully.

“Hmm.” Audrey flicked ahead in the sketchbook, where there were several blank pages towards the end. “I wonder…”

At this point, she heard the loud clatter of a wooden spoon hitting a tiled floor. Then she scented the distinct fragrance of burning. Audrey hurriedly tucked the sketchbook under one arm and rushed to check out the situation—only to discover a mess in the kitchen. Flour and puddles of batter covered the counterspace, while spoon and other mixing tools lay scattered about on the counter and on the floor. Some of these things, like the spoon, had probably come crashing down when Bendy began panicking at the stove, as he was doing now.

The impish cartoon demon had a pan clasped in one gloved hand and was desperate trying to flip it with a spatula. It wasn’t going well, and he was doing a skittish tap-dance atop the stool he was using to reach the burners. Smoke was rising from the pan and the blackening bit of batter.

Audrey went into instant action, grabbing the pan from Bendy, switching off the burner, and shoving the smoking concoction into the dishwater at the sink. Hissing issued from the pan, and steam rose into the air. This averted disaster was nothing, however, compared to the guilty look Bendy gave when she turned on him. At first, she thought of scolding him for trying to make pancakes if he didn’t know what he was doing. But he stood there, wringing his hands, and looking even smaller than usual. He winced as she approached, as if expecting a terrible punishment at any moment. It nearly broke her heart, so instead, she leaned down and wiped away some of the batter on his cheeks with her thumb.

She made a gentle shushing sound. “Hey, calm down. I’m not angry. Bendy, come on, look at me,” Audrey said, because the little guy had dropped his gaze in shame, and he only raised it again when she used a finger to tilt his chin upwards. “See? Do I look angry?”

Bendy slowly shook his head.

“There you go, then. I’m not angry. I was just worried about you getting hurt.” Audrey smiled at him, and he hesitatingly smiled back. “All right, let me show you how it’s done.”

The next half hour consisted of them making more batter, and Bendy watching attentively as Audrey poured the mixture out onto a pan and flipped the finished pancake onto a plate. She showed him the process several times before excitement overcome the shame Bendy had felt, and he quietly insisted on trying it as well. He did a great job of it, under her supervision, and the pancakes turned out very well.

Sitting there at the kitchen table, Audrey gazed around at the state of the kitchen. It was going to take a great deal of effort to clean up everything here, and that brought her thoughts to the fact that she had never needed to clean it too much while living alone. Each morning had involved quickly throwing together something for breakfast before hurrying off to work, and on the few days when she had off from her job, she just got antsy to get back to it. After all, she couldn’t think of much for her to do otherwise.

Oh, how life had changed, indeed.

“What are you scheming?” a voice hissed in irritation.

Audrey blinked and glanced sideways at the mirror she had set up on the wall overlooking the table. The original idea behind it had been as a device to use even during breakfast time to study expressions and gestures for her animation projects. Now, it was a means for The Ink Demon to join them for meals in his own way.

“Why do you think I’m scheming?” Audrey asked as, across from her, Bendy drenched several of his pancakes in maple syrup.

The Ink Demon scowled. “You look too happy. It is suspicious.”

“Ah, I was just thinking how nice it is to have things and people to look forward to each day. Don’t you think so, Bendy?”

Bendy nodded vigorously in agreement, squirting out the last few drops of the syrup.

“You are not making sense, Audrey,” The Ink Demon persisted. “There is nothing worth such effort. Everything is doomed to end in the darkness of the puddles, so why care?”

He seemed a bit more talkative on this occasion, so Audrey pushed her luck. “Well, I see you’re a regular bundle of sunshine today. Why don’t you try to enjoy what the day has to offer? I mean, just look at Bendy.”

They both turned to look. Bendy had realized he could use the butter to create a smiley face on his pancakes. He presented one of them to Audrey, beaming widely.

The Ink Demon’s scowl deepened. “I am unconvinced.”

Audrey shrugged and made sure there was a space in front of her clean enough on which to place the sketch book. She opened it, which got the attention of both demons.

“What. Is. That?” The Ink Demon snarled, trembling with sudden anger.

Audrey blinked, surprised. “It’s the sketchbook I inherited from Joey Drew,” she replied, unsure what had provoked The Ink Demon this time, or why Bendy seemed suddenly frightened again. And seeking to calm them, she pressed onwards. “I’ve discovered that at least in certain places in it, things change subtly, so I think it reflects what happens in The Ink World.” She flicked through a few pages. “There is still a lot to learn, but I think I might even be able to create new places and things there.”

“Oh yes, Audrey,” The Ink Demon said, mockingly. “You could change things in my world, couldn’t you? You can remake everything you despise. Things, and monsters.”

The implications of what The Ink Demon had said took a moment to sink in, especially when Bendy came around the table to hug her arm.

Audrey patted Bendy between his small horns and shot The Ink Demon a steady, serious look. “I don’t plan to change or experiment with anyone. That would be horrible. However,” here she pointed out some of the scenes detailed in the sketchbook, “I do want to give everyone a nicer place to live."

She frowned, recalling the journey she had made through The Ink World, with all the locked spaces Wilson had built to keep out all the other residents. “They deserve better than that,” she murmured, as The Ink Demon stared back at her. “But I need to test it somehow, safely.”

Nothing came to mind right away, and she rubbed her head in frustration. “If there actually is a way to test it safely. It’s not like I can write something and get a response from the residents to see if it has made a difference.”

The Ink Demon snorted. “Stop whining. Just write something. Everyone else does.”

“Huh?”

“There are messages written all over the studio in golden ink,” The Ink Demon grumbled.

Audrey stared at him in confusion. “I don’t remember seeing any messages in golden ink.”

“You wouldn’t.” The Ink Demon cackled, clearly pleased to have bewildered her so much. “They require a ‘special seeing tool’ to find.” His sneer deepened. “Like the one Henry hoards.”

Henry.

Audrey gasped, thinking back to her dream and her conversation with Henry when she had found him locked up by the Keepers. Now that Wilson was gone, and they had reset the cycle again, perhaps that meant Henry was free again and able to travel throughout The Ink World.

Maybe, just maybe, that meant she could reach him.

The golden ink was a new piece of valuable information that, she was surprised to say, had come without much of a fight from The Ink Demon. “Thank you, Ink Demon,” she said, at which The Ink Demon huffed and fell silent, refusing to say anything more.

Directed in this way, Audrey could even feel the spark of an idea forming for something to try, but there was something they had to do first. She looked around the kitchen. “Let’s clean this place up, all right?”

***

Scrubbing down the counters and putting away everything took quite a bit of time and effort. The whole process so wore out Bendy that he collapsed on the worn couch in their modest living room. Audrey laid a blanket over the imp and sat on the couch beside him. Then she turned her attention back to the sketchbook.

Audrey flipped to a page that detailed the hallway where Henry had often begun his point in the cycle and moved onto the first room where a projector sat on a table and lit up a screen with pale light. She took a deep breath, let it out, and added a new drawing to the setting. A mailbox near the projector. Then, on the wall beside the projector screen, she wrote in bold letters, “Henry, please write a letter to me and place it in the mailbox. From, Audrey.”

Next, she added a description to the text describing the scene, stressing that any letters placed in the box should show up on the blank pages of the sketchbook. There was no way to know it might be that simple, and Audrey’s fingers kept shaking in nervousness as she carried out her plan. The only real comfort she had was in knowing she was trying.

Suddenly drained, Audrey set the sketchbook aside and leaned back against the cushions. Her eyes drifted shut, and soon she had fallen asleep.

In response to her closeness, Bendy shuffled over to lay his head in Audrey’s lap. And in doing so, the movement was just enough to make the sketchbook slip onto the carpeted floor and open to one of the empty pages, where words materialized:

“To Audrey,

I got your message. Let’s talk.

--Henry Stein.”

Chapter Text

The kitchen sink had developed a clog somewhere along its pipe. Dirty water filled the basin, and Audrey regretted bypassing the appropriate aisle at her usual supermarket on so many occasions in the past.

It was a temptation to call her landlord, Mr. Ferguson, who lived just down the hall and seemed to own a limitless supply of cleaning fluids and other tools. Unfortunately, Audrey also knew he would have insisted on coming over to investigate the issue, seeing himself as something of a handyman.

A visitor would have meant Bendy needing to hide, which he would have been able to do easily enough. The problem was that Mr. Ferguson could be strangely perceptive. Even if Audrey managed to hide all the crayoned pictures now placed all over the refrigerator door, to put away the building blocks arranged into different shapes in the living room, and to throw a blanket over the cardboard box she was using to hold the other toys she had gotten for Bendy to enjoy, her landlord was a man with a knack for picking up on such things.

A simple trip to the supermarket would have solved everything, of course. Still, Bendy got skittish at the thought of going out in daylight with so many people thronging the city streets. She had managed to bring him home under the cover of darkness without much trouble or notice. A daytime excursion, meanwhile, would require a lot more thought and countless reassurances to pull off successfully.

Bendy had stayed at the apartment alone before, whenever she had needed to go off to work, but it was clear the clogged pipe was a source of fascination for the little imp. Something that he wanted to figure out. Although Audrey trusted him on most other fronts, she worried he might just try a few potentially disastrous solutions while she was gone, despite her telling him to wait.

As if to prove her point, while Audrey paced the apartment to help herself think better, Bendy came out of the bathroom wielding a plunger. He happened to slip past her unobserved, and she only knew what he was up to upon hearing the notable noises made by suction being applied to a hole overflowing with liquid. She rushed to the kitchen in time to see Bendy with both feet firmly planted on either side of the sink, yanking upwards on the plunger with great effort, and dangerously leaning halfway off the edge of the counter. Inevitably, the plunger popped free, and Bendy went flying.

Audrey shot forward, reached out, and managed to grab him. The only problem was that, with Bendy’s momentum, she got pushed off-balance. She stayed upright while stumbling back several feet, then eventually came crashing down into a sitting position on the floor. She heaved out a heavy sigh.

“Bendy, are you all—oh!” Bendy was just fine, but the plunger had gotten attached to his head right between his little horns. Seeing this quirky sight, Audrey started to laugh. “Looks like you’ve acquired a new hat."

Bendy grinned widely.

"So, you have moved onto ridiculing the pathetic vessel, then,” The Ink Demon grumbled from the mirror near the table.

“I told you not to call Bendy ‘pathetic’ or a ‘vessel,’” Audrey said. She took ahold of the plunger and gently tugged it off. “Further, I am not ridiculing him in any way.”

“You are laughing at him.”

“I’m laughing with him. There’s a difference,” Audrey stressed, then paused at a peculiar squeaking sound emanating from Bendy. Even The Ink Demon seemed surprised—because Bendy was laughing. It was somewhere in the same realm as a rubber chicken, but much softer and more ticklish. Audrey couldn’t help another burst of chuckles. All the while, The Ink Demon muttered low, dark things about getting made fun of and being too ignorant to notice.

The cartoonish antics had given Audrey an idea for how to fix the drain, though. She took one of her fingers and pulled it back almost to the back of her hand, then let it spring back into place. Sometimes she forgot what her trip to The Ink World had revealed about her own body. Many of her ink-powered abilities seemed absent here in what she was still calling the “Real World,” but having a stretchy, inhumanly flexible form had remained.

“Okay, let’s try something a little different,” Audrey said, going to the sink and shoving her arm right down into the drain. She stretched her fingers along the pipe. When she worked her hand and wrist around one bend and up the next, Audrey didn't experience any pain or discomfort.

Bendy watched the process intently, as did—based on his sudden silence—The Ink Demon.

There. Audrey felt the blockage. She dug her fingers into the mass and started pulling it out. It shifted along the pipe. “I’ve got it,” Audrey cried out in triumph, “I’ve got it!”

Bendy did a happy little jig.

Then, the unexpected happened. Her arm stopped moving, and no matter how hard she pulled, it stayed put. She couldn’t even let go of the clog in her grip.

“I’m—I’m stuck,” Audrey murmured, realizing just how vulnerable she was at that point. Despite herself, a chill went down her spine at the thought of being stuck there until something happened—which in that panic-stricken moment even included Mr. Ferguson bursting in upon them. But then she saw the look of concern on Bendy’s face and knew she needed to stay strong for his sake.

“Okay, Bendy,” she said. “I could use some help. I am going to pull myself backwards, just like you did with the bathroom plunger, and I need you to help me get free. All right?”

Bendy nodded, grabbed her wedged arm, and started to pull alongside her. They both tugged backwards with great force. Just like when Audrey had forced her arm down the pipe, it didn’t hurt, but there was the ever-present anxiety that something else could happen. After all, even if Audrey was stretchy and flexible, who knew what would happen if the force became too much for her arm to bear?

But thankfully, just like with the bathroom plunger, there came a sudden release that sent both Audrey and Bendy falling backwards. The clog went flying out of her hand and went splat somewhere. What commanded Audrey’s attention immediately afterwards, though, was that her arm was stretched out like a long noodle.

The Ink Demon sniggered. “You look ridiculous.”

“I suppose I do, a bit,” Audrey admitted and shook her arm, which regained its usual length at each shake. “Thank goodness.” She laughed, then watched alongside Bendy as the sink drained properly once again. “Well, that’s the last time I stick my arm down a pipe so recklessly.”

“Now you are laughing at yourself?” The Ink Demon asked. “At your own foolishness?” He sounded genuinely puzzled.

Audrey nodded. “You have to learn how to laugh at yourself sometimes.” Then she noticed where the clog had landed, and she stifled another chuckle. “Well, I guess all of us are being a little foolish today.”

“What are you talking about?” The Ink Demon snarled, right before he realized that the clog—a collection of hair, spongy bits, and tiny, associated food particles washed off dishes basically formed into a ball—had snuck to the mirror right where his nose might have been, if he had had one.

A long moment passed, and then The Ink Demon sniggered. “I do not look as ridiculous as you did, Audrey.”

Bendy began to laugh, then, with his peculiar, squeaky laugh.

Audrey laughed.

The Ink Demon sniggered.

And the apartment echoed with merriment.

Chapter Text

Audrey heard from Henry through numerous messages received over the course of many days. Each one appeared on the blank pages in her father’s sketchbook, which always contained more pages regardless of how many got filled during their exchanges.

The sketchbook was a great deal like The Ink World—much larger than its surface suggested. It was a blessing because what Henry had to relate could have filled more than a few books of the same apparent thickness.

Henry had started every Cycle in the entrance hall to the studio. His awareness as to the much larger issues surrounding his supposed visit there always varied. Most often, he would move about his usual routine on the floor, and then make the torturous journey down through the levels. He might have sharp flashes of déjà vu, but he would keep going all the way to place the film reel that read “The End” on the appropriate projector to restart everything—never knowing just how many times he had repeated such actions.

During some trips, Henry realized he had done certain things countless times before, but the knowledge never made a difference.

Among the limited elements he remembered every Cycle was The Ink Demon. Henry had dreaded being dragged into the inky puddles, where he would feel his mind falling apart and getting swished around in violent whirlpools with the other souls lost in the darkness. Fear, hatred, imprisonment, and futility soaked deep into his very essence until he wanted to scream.

It would have been so easy to fall apart just like The Lost Ones, consumed by those negative emotions. The Ink Machine, when birthing them into that world, had mangled their thoughts and souls together from the start, so they all came out at least half mad.

Still, beyond any sensible reasoning, Henry would struggle back to the surface while grasping at the possibility of escaping from the nightmarish studio and returning to Linda, his wife. He thought that resolution was what kept him sane compared to the various souls in the ink. At least at that time. Afterwards, he would wonder if Joey Drew might have deliberately ensured Henry would come back as himself, just to torture him further.

But then, a Cycle came where The Ink Demon failed to appear. Henry had wandered around with less ease than usual and had barely escaped from Sammy Lawrence—who had sought to use him in a ritual to summon back “His Missing Lord”—and come across Boris the Wolf and his safehouse. They had spent some time together in that way and had even discovered the laboratory where, in past Cycles, a twisted version of Alice Angel would conduct experiments to make herself beautiful. However, even she was missing.

Henry soon discovered why when The Keepers encountered him.

Boris, thank goodness, had listened when Henry had yelled at him to escape into the airshafts—even though the “poor pup,” as Henry termed him, had clearly wanted to help him.

The Keepers were swift, and they were frightful with their inky bodies like hazmat suits with gears stuck in their backs and dark tentacles trailing along the floor behind them. As Henry would see confirmed, they could have easily killed him right then and there. They chose to let him live, however, since he could have otherwise escaped them through the ink.

Instead, The Keepers brought Henry along secretive corridors and down elevators, lashing out whenever he dared to ask questions or happened to trip over anything from debris to exposed pipes. They had brought him to the Gent workshop and thrown him into a cell like a criminal. They called him a “cyclebreaker” and hissed that he deserved to rot.

Days passed. Weeks. The only boon Henry had was his own small sketchbook and pencil, which he’d soon covered with drawings of the life he missed. It also gave much time for reflection on his circumstances. After all, he was able to survive without any nourishment, and the longer he tried to think back to the beginning, of where he had been before entering the studio, which clearly wasn’t just a studio but a whole world, the more he suspected something much darker at work.

Wilson was the one to confirm those suspicions. The twisted old man had come to stand before the glass that fronted Henry’s cell and announced The Ink Demon was dead. Wilson declared he had been the one to kill the monster, and so there was no need for Henry or any of the other denizens of The Ink World to fear him any longer.

Henry had listened to this declaration in numbed silence. He hadn’t believed Wilson, even though he yet to see The Ink Demon that Cycle. In fact, there had been many occasions Henry had almost wished for The Ink Demon to come, just so he could escape into the ink and be somewhere else. Wilson and The Keepers had denied him even that option.

Then Wilson had remarked that Henry intrigued him. After all, if it weren’t for Joey Drew’s business partner, the real Henry Stein, leaving his company, Joey Drew would never have created The Ink World with Gent’s assistance—specifically to torture him, the inky recreation of his former friend.

Even with Henry’s suspicions, the impact of Wilson’s words was akin to a powerful blow to his ribcage. He had crumpled to his knees as the implications of it bobbed to the surface. He had been born here in The Ink World out of a need for Joey Drew to vent his frustrations on someone like his business partner. He didn’t have a wife and family waiting for him elsewhere. Linda had probably been living happily with the actual Henry Stein for years, enjoying the family they had created together.

Meanwhile, the Henry Stein of The Ink World could never go home… ever.

Perhaps sensing his weakness, Wilson had made Henry an offer. If he would swear to serve Wilson without hesitation, he would be released from his confinement and taken to a comfy place after a nice train ride. He would even get to participate in experiments that would reshape The Ink World.

What better way for Henry to get revenge on Joey Drew, Wilson had stated, then to help in tearing it apart and creating a new world with Wilson at the helm? What Wilson hadn’t counted on, however, was that even at this bleakest point in Henry’s existence, the artist still had a shred of morality. Or maybe he was just too tired to care about getting caught up in someone else’s madness and being turned into a puppet again.

So, he had refused.

Wilson had cursed at him and stalked away, never to visit him again.

Another seemingly endless period had passed, until Audrey had shown up. Henry really hadn’t expected much, but he had done his best to help in her efforts to reset the Cycle—because at least it would rid them of Wilson and his Keepers.

It was already clear that this latest Cycle was unlike anything that had come before. For one, Henry began near the studio door again, but with his complete memory intact. He could remember having gone through the countless loops, and what had happened during each one. Recovering from that total recall had kept Henry on that first floor for quite a while, which was one reason why he had noticed the mailbox Audrey had drawn and her message so quickly.

He had ventured, since then, to the floor below and practically broken down when he encountered Boris again. Boris didn’t recall anything from the past Cycles, and so he was surprised to receive an instant and tight hug from someone who was a stranger to him. However, Henry remembered him and his sacrifices all too well.

Another surprise took place soon afterwards. Allison, an Alice Angel incarnation who was much nicer than her crazed counterpart, had come to rescue him from Sammy Lawrence. She had been accompanied by another version of Boris, this one more serious and less trusting, named Tom. Henry remembered them, but neither Allison nor Tom remembered him. Unlike him, they only remembered the last Cycle.

All Henry could guess was that somehow, them being close to the film reel when Audrey had switched on “The End,” while combined with The Ink Demon, had somehow caused their memories to carry over into the new Cycle. And together, meeting in Boris’ safehouse as a kind of headquarters, they had begun to explore this strange new Ink World.

Wilson had disappeared, and it appeared his Keepers had as well. However, their crusade in The Ink World had left an indelible mark on the landscape. The posters of Wilson-themed propaganda were gone, but the massive Gent workshop and similar buildings remained. What that might mean, Henry and the others were afraid to guess, and they had chosen to focus their efforts elsewhere for the time being.

As for The Lost Ones, they seemed even more lost and uncertain than ever—which meant they were even more erratic and likely to lash out than usual. Sammy Lawrence, for his part, had taken to gathering larger and larger groups of them to worship The Ink Demon in the hopes his master would return soon from wherever he had gone. Meanwhile, there were several who simply wandered about, murmuring confused thoughts about various matters. Some of these things were not as violent as they had been in the past, but instead concentrated on imprisonment, a lack of autonomy, and identity issues.

Something had changed with the ink, and it seemed to be continuing to change in subtle ways.

****** 

Once Henry had finished his tale, Audrey wrote, “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Henry replied right away, which Audrey supposed meant he was on the first floor at that time. “Thanks to you, Wilson and his Keepers are gone. The Ink Demon isn’t tormenting us anymore.”

“No, it’s not that. I meant your situation. Everything you’ve had to go through.”

“Our situation isn’t your fault.” The words rushed across the page.

Audrey found herself muttering aloud as she wrote back, “But Joey Drew was my father.”

“Joey Drew shifted the blame for his actions onto everyone else but himself, so many times,” Henry penned. “I may not be the real Henry Stein, but I know that much, at least. Don’t do him a favor by choosing to accept all that blame yourself.”

Audrey sighed. She was at the desk in her room that night, with the sketchbook laid out among all the sketches and notes made about what she had learned about from those hallowed pages. The problem was that although she had an idea of what was happening in The Ink World, and now had Henry on the other end of the line, so to speak, she was unsure what to do or say next.

More words materialized. “Audrey, do you know what has happened to The Ink Demon?”

At this moment, Bendy came into the room and tapped her elbow with a finger to get her attention. Upon turning, Audrey found a picture book being held up hopefully. It was entitled, Fluffy the Bunny, and clearly the cartoonish imp wanted her to read the tale to him as a bedtime story. Once again.

Audrey smiled and patted him on the head. “All right, little guy,” she said. “I’ll read you the story in just a moment. Slip into your pajamas and get in bed, and I’ll be right there, okay?”

Bendy grinned widely, nodded, and rushed off.

Then Audrey turned back to the sketchbook. “He’s here with me in the Real World,” Audrey responded, “sealed away inside Bendy.” She decided to leave out the fact that The Ink Demon himself was talking to her through Bendy’s mirrored reflection.

“Good,” Henry wrote. “Keep him there. It’s safer that way, for everyone.”

Audrey listened to Bendy moving things about in the bathroom. Occasionally, she even thought that she heard The Ink Demon grumbling things, such as just how far he had fallen as an almighty beast of the ink. But her attention was more on Henry and the others in The Ink World, and their current circumstances. They were still struggling.

“Allison wants me to tell you ‘Hi,’ by the way,” Henry wrote suddenly, “and to congratulate you on making it back into the Real World. She says Tom wishes to thank you as well, but I honestly don’t know what’s going on in that wolf’s head. Anyway, I guess I haven’t thanked you as I should have as well. With that said… thanks, Audrey.” A pause. “One moment. Let me see if something works.”

A few seconds later, a sketch appeared below his message. A sketch that depicted Allison, Tom, the other Boris, and even Henry himself seated around a table in a room of some sort. Audrey guessed it was probably the safehouse that Henry had mentioned. The place was so nice, and it seemed Henry had put up a few of his drawings to decorate the walls.

Despite what they were all still going through, Audrey had to smile at the sight. At least Henry had close companions now, and they could look out for each other.

That setting did spark an idea, though. As Audrey gazed at the comforting scene, she thought it would be nice if there were more places in The Ink World where they could go and enjoy such a peaceful atmosphere.

“Hey, Henry?”

“Hmm?”

“What would you think if I were to draw new areas of The Ink World? Peaceful places for you and everyone to enjoy. Maybe I could even help to clean up some places as well, with your guidance?”

Such a long pause followed these questions that Audrey grew worried she had unknowingly provoked Henry somehow. She watched Bendy reenter what was, really, now their room since she had managed to set up a small bed for him in one corner. He had gotten dressed in fleecy blue pajamas with rabbit designs on them, and he wore a nightcap with a pink puff ball at the end. Clutched in his arms was the favored book.

Audrey was about to go to him when another line of text emerged. “I think that could lead to good things, Audrey,” Henry replied. It was the most hopeful thing she had heard him say.

Feeling uplifted herself, she went on, “I could even get some inspiration from spots around New York City and other locations.”

“Sounds like a plan. But Audrey, be careful. Gent is still out there in your world. Based on numerous notes we have come across, that company still has an interest in The Ink Machine and The Ink World.”

“Don’t worry. My boss at Archgate Films legally owns most of Joey Drew’s estate, from what I can tell, which includes The Ink Machine.”

“That doesn’t mean they wouldn’t try something underhanded,” Henry warned.

Audrey nodded. “I promise I’ll keep a close watch on The Ink Machine, so let’s do our best to make The Ink World better for everyone.”

“I’ve got to admit that I lost hope that things would improve a long time ago, but I will do my best to help out.”

“Good night, Henry.”

“Good night, Audrey.”

With that, Audrey closed the sketchbook and went to read Bendy a cheery little story about a fluffy bunny, who lived with all his fluffy friends in a happy world far from reality. A fantasy. The Ink World was a long way from anything close to such a gentle place, but together, maybe they had a chance to create something much brighter for their own future.

Chapter Text

Audrey now had a plan to help The Ink World. She would create new locations for her friends there to enjoy, drawing inspiration from various places around New York City. Even with this thrilling prospect, however, reality intervened with other obligations and demanded that she put off the expedition for at least a few days. There were deadlines to meet at Archgate Films, for cartoons that were growing noticeably longer in their runtime, and thus took longer to complete.

One of her co-workers, a background artist named Andrew, had mentioned in passing that Nathan Arch was considering an hour-long animated film, which would feature Bendy the Dancing Demon, Alice Angel, and Boris the Wolf, although it could have just been a rumor. Andrew was known for stirring rumors related to new creative ideas, especially if he thought they might just travel up to their boss and become a reality credited to his own keen vision.

Even so, he was usually the first employee out the door each evening, and he and Audrey rarely spoke. It had, in fact, been a surprise that Andrew took a moment to inform her of the possible film. Just like it was a surprise when most of her co-workers went out of their way to address or chat with her for various reasons unrelated to the work at hand.

It wasn’t that she actively avoided them. She had always tried to be as polite as possible. Still, even before her journey into The Ink World, most of her concentration while at the studio had tended to remain on each feature in production, before persuading herself to finally return home late in the evenings long after everyone else had left. It was one reason the “Employee of the Month Award” plaque once again hung on the wall near her desk.

As Audrey worked on the latest project—a cartoon where Bendy was visiting a park to have a picnic with Boris and struggling to eat at least one sandwich before his wolfish companion inhaled all the ones they had brought—the solitude of her routine kept coming to mind. It was a surprise to realize just how long she had been alone, without close friends or any known family, until recent days.

Thank goodness.

Drawing one frame after the next, literally drawing ever closer to the end of the project, she could imagine Bendy accompanying her to a place like Central Park—in disguise, of course. Excitement would radiate from the cartoonish imp as he climbed trees, rolled down grassy hills, and savored a packed lunch that, unlike his animated counterpart, he could savor without a struggle.

Maybe The Ink Demon would even enjoy the outing. Audrey hoped so.

But her main source of concern was in getting Bendy to step foot out of the apartment during the daytime. The little guy had good hearing, and noises penetrated the apartments walls from time to time—starling noises like car horns, shouted arguments, construction work, and more. Even though Audrey had tried to explain it was just the normal, daily buzz of New York City, and that there weren’t, in fact, huge battles being waged outside and monsters like Keepers on the loose, the merest mention of going out there was enough to make the cartoonish imp tremble.

For Bendy to always stay in the apartment, hiding within those rooms like he had done in The Ink World, though… that was enough to make Audrey tremble, which was why once she had pushed herself past even her usual overtime endurance and completed her part of the cartoon feature, she swung by somewhere special on her way home.

Later, Bendy met her at the apartment door with a wide grin.

“Hey there, little guy, sorry I’m later than usual,” Audrey apologized, stifling a yawn. “I hope you didn’t get too worr—” She trailed off, because Bendy was pointing at his latest creation in the living room. It was a cityscape formed out of building blocks, and quite impressive in many ways. However, she couldn’t help noticing most of that city consisted of tunnels and box-like structures without any noticeable openings.

“It’s—it’s very nice, Bendy,” Audrey said. Then, fearing the detection of her concern for him, she hurriedly pulled out her surprise, kept until then just out of sight in one hand beyond the doorframe. A wide, thin, and rectangular cardboard box from which a warm aroma wafted.

As expected, Bendy became enchanted by this new offering right away. He followed her, pie-cut eyes widened and bouncing a bit on his heels in anticipation, to the kitchen table, on which she placed the box.

The Ink Demon appeared in the mirror nearby. “What is that stench?” he hissed.

Audrey smiled. “Oh, just a little treat that I thought you both might like.”

“Unlikely.”

“We’ll see,” Audrey replied, unfazed. She lifted the box lid to expose a large pepperoni pizza, the likes of which neither Bendy nor The Ink Demon would have ever witnessed before. She watched in satisfaction as Bendy hesitantly reached out and slipped his gloved fingers under the edge of one slice, and then chuckled when the cartoonish imp gazed in awe at the way the melted cheese dripped over the edges of it and clung to the rest of the pizza. Audrey had enough presence of mind, though, to slip a plate under the freed slice for him. Otherwise, there would have been melted cheese, and perhaps a few pepperonis, dribbled across the table.

Bendy bit into the end of the slice—and froze. The Ink Demon made a sudden, strangled noise deep in his throat that Audrey had never quite heard before, and which might have concerned her if Bendy’s whole face hadn’t lit up seconds later in unashamed glee. His pie-cut eyes sparkled, his grin grew much wider than usual, and he munched through the rest of the slice at speed, before immediately reaching out for another one.

Despite the significant evidence before her, Audrey asked, “Do you like it?”

Bendy nodded his head vigorously, thrilled beyond measure.

“What do you think?” Audrey turned to The Ink Demon.

“It is… acceptable,” The Ink Demon admitted, grudgingly.

Great. She had gotten them interested in something from outside. “This pizza comes from Tony’s Pizzeria,” Audrey persisted. “It’s a cozy little place that I know you would love, at a short distance from here. There are strings of lights curling across the ceiling, a jukebox playing tunes throughout the day, and photographs of celebrities who have come for a visit covering the walls. The proprietor, Big Tony, is the one who recommended a pepperoni pizza.”

Bendy paused halfway through his third slice of pizza, getting caught up in Audrey’s description. He looked almost as enchanted as he did whenever she read him Fluffy the Bunny.

Thank goodness. Maybe this time would be different. Even so, Audrey tried to ease her way towards the bigger plan she had in mind. “I think it would make a wonderful place to draw and include as a new destination in The Ink World for everyone.” She heard The Ink Demon snort but continued on nonetheless. "In fact, I think there are a number of places it would be fun to visit throughout New York City for some creative inspiration.”

A glob of cheese slid off the slice in Bendy’s hand. Something in Audrey’s expression, or the excitement building in her voice, perhaps, had hinted at what she was on the cusp of suggesting. Bendy looked uncertain.

Audrey hesitated, dread swirling in the pit of her stomach, but then said, “Why don’t you come with me? There are so many wonders we could enjoy together. Places that you might never have dreamed existed, and which you—” She paused, because Bendy was shaking his head and waving his hands before him in a way that clearly meant the idea terrified him. The cartoonish imp was trembling.

“Please, Bendy,” Audrey said, hoping to get through to him. She had worked so much harder than usual, just for this trip. Exhaustion was threatening to overwhelm her, even now. It just had to work. “I know you’re scared, but it’s not as terrifying as it might seem. There are risks, yes, but—” It was the wrong thing to say. Bendy placed his hands across his eyes and continued to tremble.

“I’ll be with you the whole time,” Audrey tried, soothingly. “I promise that I won’t let anything bad happen to you. You’ll have fun.” This type of coaxing usually worked to ease his fears—but not, apparently, for an outing into the city.

The trembling continued, and her hopes started to wilt.

To make matters worse, The Ink Demon huffed, “It would be a worthless effort, anyway.”

Audrey didn’t need an argument with The Ink Demon. Not tonight. She took a deep breath and released it. “Why do you say that?” she asked, as calmly as possible.

“No matter what you draw, The Ink World will always be twisted and ugly. It was born from hatred and vengeance. The Ink whispers of despair and calamity. Of a world filled with mistakes.”

“It does not have to be that way anymore,” Audrey stressed. “I want to change things for the better, and to make The Ink World a good place for Henry, Allison, Tom, and everyone else to live. They are not mistakes.”

“They are nothing more than Children of The Machine,” The Ink Demon insisted. “Made to fight back against an ugliness that can only be ignored, rather than conquered. The Ink would always remember what came before.”

“'The Ink’ reflects the souls in The Ink World, right?” Audrey said, unsure exactly how she knew that fact. Maybe it had come from some forgotten pocket of knowledge passed along to her by her father. Or perhaps it was something all those who had been born from ink were born possessing. At that moment of strain, she didn’t want to think too much into it.

“It reflects their pain and suffering. I was the first ugly mistake to come from that Ink, connected to The Ink World. I have felt and heard the growing collection of souls, sinking ever deeper into agony. You think that you can change all that with a few sketches? We will forever be worthless—”

“You are not worthless to me!” Audrey gripped the sides of the mirror. “Or ugly! All of us are masterpieces in the making, and love can change so much. It helped my father to create me, and it is the way we will make things better. By working together. It is more than just ‘a few sketches!’” She drew up short, suddenly realizing that she had been shouting, and that tears were dripping down her cheeks and leaving drops on the table.

Bendy was staring at her, pie-cut eyes wide in pure astonishment, and who knew what else.

Even The Ink Demon had gone speechless.

“I—” Audrey released her grip on the mirror and backed away, carefully wiping at her eyes. She inwardly kicked herself. Not only had she launched into an argument with The Ink Demon, but it had probably been the most intense one of all so far. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I—I didn’t mean to shout. I’m just tired.”

Feeling a bit wobbly on her legs, she moved around the table and managed to give Bendy a small smile. “It’s okay, Bendy.” She patted him gently between his small horns. “You don’t need to come if it would make you too uncomfortable.” Goodness, she was worn. “I’ll pick up some postcards for you, and of course there will be the drawings. We can try it when you’re ready.” She turned away. “I’m going to turn in for the night.” The pizza would be fine, she was sure. With his ravenous appetite, Bendy might even finish it off by the morning. It didn’t even matter that Audrey hadn’t eaten a single slice.

She headed towards her room.

“Yes, Audrey,” The Ink Demon spoke up at last, mockingly. “Go out into the city alone tomorrow, all day, where anything could happen.” He sniggered.

Audrey felt a pinch of anger, quickly extinguished by exhaustion. She was just… done. The only thing she was able to manage was a look over her shoulder, where she saw Bendy standing on his chair, holding onto the backrest and watching her. He looked even more anxious than he had when she had brought up the whole undertaking.

The Ink Demon wore a wicked grimace as he went on, “You could meet with misfortune and never return to this apartment again.” He sounded almost hopeful. “It is a shame we would not be there to see it occur.” His snigger grew particularly boisterous, coinciding with Bendy growing ever more concerned and anxious—for her.

The Ink Demon leaned closer to the glass, but he wasn’t looking at Audrey. He had, she realized with a start, been looking at Bendy the entire time while addressing her. “Then we will be alone. Here. Forever.”

Bendy sprang off the chair and rushed over to hug Audrey around the leg, with great force. He pointed at her, himself, and then at the door to the apartment, and nodded his head.

Audrey blinked, incredulous. “You… want to come with me?”

Bendy nodded again.

“Even though you’re scared?”

At this, the imp wrung his hands. He glanced back, amazingly, at the mirror—one of the rare occasions where Bendy had truly acknowledged The Ink Demon. When he looked back up at her, though, determination flickered in his expression.

“Oh, I see,” Audrey said. “Are you going to protect me?”

Bendy saluted her.

“Well, then, I’ll definitely be safe now.” Still somewhat dazed but this turnaround, Audrey let Bendy lead her back to the table, where he pulled out a chair for her and rushed off to grab a plate from the cupboard.

He was clearly doing his best to make her feel better. And even though Audrey yearned to flop into bed, she wouldn’t have taken away this moment from Bendy for anything.

Besides, thinking back, Audrey had something she still needed to do for the night was out. So, as Bendy hurried about, she glanced at the mirror. “I know what you did,” she remarked, “to help me out.”

“I did nothing for you,” The Ink Demon snarled in return.

“Sure, of course.” Audrey wiped at her eyes again. “Even so—thank you, Ink Demon. Tomorrow will be wonderful.”

“Don’t misunderstand me,” The Ink Demon hissed. “I just want to watch you fail miserably.”

“I wonder,” Audrey mused aloud, a quiet smile playing about her lips. She thanked Bendy when he set a plate in front of her with a large slice of pizza on it. “I really do wonder sometimes.”

They finished off the pizza soon afterwards, and Audrey went to bed that night filled with hope for things to come—and for those who meant the world to her.

Chapter Text

Audrey hummed while preparing breakfast that morning. She had an extra bounce in her step and gladly fried additional eggs when The Ink Demon demanded them. Meanwhile, Bendy dropped two slices of bread into the toaster, then stood there watching closely until they popped up. Something about them being ejected tickled him.

It was going to be a wonderful day. Audrey would make sure of it. She had even gotten up early to pack a small picnic basket to bring along.

Still, they needed to take precautions, which was why, after eating well, she helped Bendy to slip on an oversized hoodie. The hood was large enough to pull over his head, and if he wanted, the little guy could stick his gloved hands into the front pocket. Then Audrey wrapped a scarf about his shoulders, past his nonexistent neck, and around the lower portion of his face to hide a nose that wasn’t there. Finally, Audrey slipped a pair of sunglasses over Bendy’s pie-cut eyes; his head was just wide enough for the handles to stay in place without needing to be taped there.

“Okay, you’re all set,” Audrey said, taking a step back to consider her handiwork. She frowned slightly. “Well, I think you look…. umm…”

She searched for the right word just long enough for The Ink Demon to complete the sentence with, “Stupid.”

“Oh, hush,” Audrey admonished without thinking, and she half expected The Ink Demon to snarl at her.

Instead, he just grumbled, “If I saw some being dressed that clumsily in my domain, they would become the first victim of my wrath.” He snorted. “It is an insult.”

“Maybe to you, but it is probably the best cover we have for now,” Audrey said. “The simplest thing can work wonders. After all, you couldn’t find me whenever I hid in boxes, under desks, and in the airshafts of your ‘domain.’”

The Ink Demon sniggered. “I knew where you were most of the time.”

“Really?” Audrey lifted an eyebrow, dubious. “Then why didn’t you come after me?” She grabbed the picnic basket.

“Too easy,” The Ink Demon replied. “I wanted to catch you out in the open, so I could outrun and claim you. It was an enticing game.” A certain smugness entered his voice as he added, “Even though you didn’t stand a chance against me.”

Audrey thought about ignoring that comment, but then decided it deserved a rejoinder. “That’s it,” she muttered. “When we get back, I’m teaching you some new games. Like checkers.”

“What is checkers?” The Ink Demon sounded suspicious.

Opening the apartment door, Audrey slipped the picnic basket into the crook of one arm, took Bendy by the hand, and chanced another dose of boldness. “Oh, just a game where you might stand a chance against me.”

Before The Ink Demon could snap out a retort, Audrey and Bendy were out in the hall and had locked the door behind them. Their apartment was on the third floor of the apartment complex, right below the top, fourth floor.

Good. Everything was still. The other residents on this floor were, as far as she knew, all single individuals usually away at their jobs throughout the week, and sometimes well into the weekends.

It was Thursday. A good time to have a day out.

Even without anyone in sight, though, Bendy kept glancing around. He squeezed her hand tightly, clearly nervous but doing his best to be brave.

“You’re doing great, Bendy,” Audrey consoled him. “Thank you for coming with me.”

Some of the tension went out of the cartoon imp. His grip relaxed a bit, and when he glanced up at her, she saw the edges of his grin peeking out over the top of the scarf.

There was only one point of possible concern before they left the floor, since her landlord lived at the end of the hall, near the elevator and stairwell. Furthermore, he tended to stick around most of the time. Audrey tried to creep past Mr. Ferguson’s door, heading for the stairwell, which would make less noise.

Unfortunately, they were only a few steps beyond the door when it opened, and Mr. Ferguson poked his head out. He was a wizened old gentleman without shocks of silvery hair jutting out from either side of his head, a noticeable, beak-like nose, and a lazy eye. He fixed her without his other, intensely focused eye and rasped, “Ah, Audrey, I see you have the day off, then?”

His tone suggested it was a rhetorical question.

“Good morning, Mr. Ferguson,” Audrey said, as Bendy hid behind her. “I met an important deadline, so my boss let me have a day off as a break.”

Mr. Ferguson smacked his lips. “You’re lucky to have a boss who cares. I used to work in bricklaying, and my boss kept our noses to the grindstone even if we had just finished a big project.”

Oh no, Audrey thought, he’s talking about his past work experiences. Mr. Ferguson often discussed his work history, which had apparently included working for a bricklaying business that had changed hands, gone in a new direction under the new management, and led to massive layoffs for many of the workers when the economy was already, as Mr. Ferguson told it, doing a nosedive down the drain. Audrey had never learned exactly what business it was, but she did understand that unless she did something soon, they could be standing there for a while listening to him reiterate his frustrations with CEOs.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Ferguson, but I’m on my way to run a few errands.” It was basically true. She was trying to help Bendy, and she had her sketchpad—this one quite normal and unconnected to The Ink World—tucked into the picnic basket to make a few preliminary sketches for new locations to place within The Ink World. Pinched with some guilt for having to cut him off, though, she asked, “Can I pick up anything for you from the market?”

“Nah,” Mr. Ferguson waved a hand dismissively. “But I appreciate the thought. Besides, it looks like you have someone else to worry about.” He gestured towards Bendy.

Audrey bit her lip. She had partially hoped Mr. Ferguson might overlook Bendy for the moment, given that she still hadn’t figured out how to best explain the situation.

Before she could attempt it, though, Mr. Ferguson continued, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask how you suddenly picked up a kid. Things happen, and that isn’t any of my business. Just make sure he’s quiet, doesn’t disturb the other tenants, and doesn’t leave roller skates and whatnot all over the place to trip over.”

“Of course, Bendy is very quiet and courteous,” Audrey assured him, then inwardly kicked herself. “Bendy” wasn’t the type of name children generally had.

Thankfully, Mr. Ferguson misunderstood her. “Benny, you say? Right. He’d better behave.” He smacked his lips again. “Anyway, I’d better get back to my stories,” he said, and Audrey could hear the faint strains of a radio coming from his apartment. “See you later, Audrey.”

“Bye, Mr. Ferguson.”

Soon they were walking down the stairwell. “Mr. Ferguson is a good person,” Audrey told Bendy, who kept glancing back as if he expected the landlord to follow them. “He was my first friend when I moved into my apartment, and he has helped me out from time to time.”

Bendy nodded, seeming to accept this response. But then he paused as they reached the foyer at the bottom of the stairwell, staring out beyond the front glass doors at the streams of humanity sweeping along the sidewalk in both directions. All the sounds of the city were much louder here than they had been up in the apartment, with people talking, shouting, laughing, and much more out on the streets. An ambulance siren echoed from somewhere nearby, and car horns blared in chorus.

A shudder ran through the imp. Bendy froze in place, and then stayed there when Audrey forward. He looked so terror-stricken that Audrey felt her own resolve waiver for just a moment. After all, if Bendy froze up on the street amid all those people, it could be a big problem. And the longer she debated what to do, worst his anxiety would get. As if to emphasize this point, Bendy pulled his hoodie further down around his face, like he was trying to shield himself against the world for at least a short while.

Making him comfortable around New York City was a big step, especially for someone as traumatized as Bendy. They needed, instead, to take baby steps towards their goal. Many, many baby steps.

Audrey smiled. She knelt beside him. “Hey there, Bendy,” she said, gently pulling his chin towards her so he was looking at her rather than out at the street, “how would you like to ride piggyback?”

Momentarily distracted, Bendy cocked his head to one side in puzzlement.

“It’s a special way for you to see the city by riding on my back,” Audrey explained. “If you like, you can either keep your face hidden and let our destination be a surprise, or you can sneak a glimpse on occasion to see where we’re going.” She beckoned with her fingers. “So, hop on.”

Bendy hesitated a moment longer before he clambered onto Audrey’s back. Audrey lifted him up, checked that he was secure, and pushed her way out onto the street. For a while, he glanced out over the crowds as Audrey walked along, crossed several intersections, and did her best to keep the picnic basket from bumping against everybody. When they passed a taxi driver arguing with a passenger who refused to pay his fare, however, the little guy covered up his face again. To his credit, he continued to hold on tightly and failed to make a sound—in a city where so many voices clamored to be heard.

It was a bit like The Ink World, actually.

So many possibilities had passed through her mind of places where she could bring Bendy. New York City was full of attractions and destinations that appealed to visitors from all over the world, but it was obvious that taking baby steps meant they couldn’t just move between several in a day. At least, not yet. She needed to be patient, just like Bendy was being patient right at that moment.

Even so, there was one place Audrey knew Bendy would love right away. The best first place for him to open his eyes to the wonders found beyond the apartment. And she’d been dreaming of them going there for days by then.

When they reached their destination at last, she knelt on the ground and let Bendy slid off her back. He probably noted that it was quiet here, and calm. Peaceful.

Audrey stepped to one side. “All right, Bendy, we’re here.”

She waited patiently for more than a minute, until Bendy slowly pulled the hood away from his eyes. His sunglasses fell off onto the grass, and when Audrey bent to retrieve them, she saw that Bendy’s eyes had gone wide in astonishment.

She had set him down on a grassy knoll overlooking the Reservoir, a huge body of water towards the heart of Central Park. From here, they could glimpse vast sweeps of trees and watch much smaller groups of people, such as parents with young children, stroll on pathways around the area. The spot Audrey had picked, though, was sheltered by the trees as well and relatively isolated.

Audrey put down the picnic basket, reached inside, and pulled out a checkered blanket to spread across the grass. All the while, she kept a careful watch on Bendy, who cautiously stepped forward and started in surprise at the crunch of grass underfoot. It was like watching a child experience his or her first snowfall. Bendy crunched around a bit more, flopped into a sitting position, and rolled across the grass with glee.

As he did, Audrey pulled out another important thing she had brought along for their outing. The cartoonish imp blinked at his beloved picture book, Fluffy the Bunny, which Audrey flipped to a page where the titular character frolicked amid a verdant field.

Bendy stared at the fields in the book, then ran his fingers through the grass. He looked at Audrey, and she nodded.

“Yes, that’s right,” she said. “Just like in Fluffy the Bunny.” A connection had been made, and the way Bendy’s eyes sparkled in happiness was quite a sight.

The next two hours involved exploring all the little details of that special spot, with Audrey explaining everything in which Bendy took an interest. He wanted to run his hand along the tree trunks to feel their rough textures, juggle pebbles found in the grass, throw leaves up to watch them get carried away by the wind, and gaze in wonder at the ducks and other fowl swimming over the surface of the Reservoir.

One highlight, however, was when an actual rabbit happened to hop into sight from some bushes. Excited by this creature who looked like the Fluffy the Bunny character, Bendy drew close—only for the rabbit to dash off. He slumped in disappointment until Audrey murmured, “The rabbit just got a bit nervous, because you were unfamiliar to him.” Bendy perked up, then, understanding the need for caution all too well.

They enjoyed the sandwiches that Audrey had packed, and then Bendy continued to play around as Audrey pulled out her sketchpad and drew the scene. Central Park was, really, a wondrous pocket of the natural world in the middle of New York City. A heartfelt place. Just like Audrey planned to make the version of it for The Ink World.

A wonderful peace overtook Audrey as she worked. They made certainly made the most of their baby steps that day, and later, it was obvious Bendy was reluctant to leave their happy spot surrounded by nature when Audrey packed up their picnic supplies.

The trip back seemed easier on Bendy. Riding piggyback, he covered his eyes only about half of the way home. Otherwise, he peeked at the sights around them—at least until he grew too weary and nodded off.

Twilight had fallen by the time they reached the complex.

But even though Bendy had fallen asleep when Audrey stepped through the apartment door, The Ink Demon was wide awake. As soon as she had set the picnic basket on the table, he hissed, “Tomorrow, I will crush you with checkers.”

For a moment, Audrey started at him in bewilderment. Then she remembered their earlier conversation. “Oh… Oh! Yes.” She stifled a yawn. “I’ll teach you the game tomorrow morning before I go to work, and we’ll play it together in the evening.” She headed towards the bedroom, carrying Bendy. “Until then, goodnight, Ink Demon. I’ve got a new location to create for The Ink World.”

“Next time,” The Ink Demon growled, “we visit the domain of pizza, and you will add it to my world.”

Audrey blinked in surprise. She hadn’t expected The Ink Demon to suggest a place for The Ink World just like that.

Then again, Bendy and The Ink Demon had loved the pizza… a lot.

“Sure,” Audrey said. “We can do that.”

She tucked Bendy into bed soon afterwards, then went to her desk. The sketchpad like open on the desk to her sketches from Central Park, which she thought about for a while before she grabbed her father’s sketchbook and flipped to an empty page.

“Hey Henry,” Audrey wrote, “have I got a place for you.”

Chapter Text

The next morning, Audrey dug out her checkerboard from deep within her closet, alongside a pouch that held all the checkers. She unfolded it across the kitchen table for The Ink Demon and Bendy to study, and then went to make some breakfast.

A peculiar atmosphere hung in the air. Audrey had sketched out a new location in the sketchbook for The Ink World, but she hadn’t gotten Henry’s reaction before flopping into bed—and she still hadn’t heard from him. Drawing the location was supposed to have been something of a happy surprise for all her friends there, and Audrey knew she needed to be patient about it since Henry was probably elsewhere at the time. Still, the lack of a response was making her anxious.

Meanwhile, Bendy had brought Fluffy the Bunny to the table with him, and he kept glancing between the pictures on its pages and the apartment door. Obviously, the memories from their trip to Central Park were still vivid in his mind.

It worried Audrey as she poured batter into a frying pan. After all, what if the little guy had overcome his fear of the outdoors just enough to leave the apartment? But no, Audrey shook the thought away, there were the noisy city streets and the crowds of people who would make him think twice about such an expedition. And besides, he would get lost almost right away, not having seen the whole route in either direction.

Bendy getting lost in New York City…

That thought was even more nerve-racking than waiting for a response from Henry.

The Ink Demon proved himself to be the most engaged one among them by snapping, “You are burning the pancakes. Pay attention!”

“Oops!” Audrey flinched, refocusing on the task at hand just in time to save their breakfast from a charred demise. “Sorry about that.” She would have found The Ink Demon’s warning almost sweet, if she hadn’t known it was done to protect his food. In either case, she stacked a few pancakes on their plates and set one in front of Bendy—right in his line of sight towards the door—alongside maple syrup.

The aroma of the pancakes inches away was enough to claim Bendy’s attention, thank goodness. He ate with as much gusto as usual, while Audrey placed the red and black checkers in the appropriate places.

The Ink Demon snorted. “A board covered in slugs?” he growled, referring to the makeshift coinage mostly used to get into the vending machines around The Ink World. “When you mentioned a game, I thought there would be tension and squirming. I should have known it would be a disappointment."

"Don’t judge something until you understand it,” Audrey chided him. “They’re checkers, not slugs, and you would need to actually play the game to understand what is going on.” She glanced at the clock on the wall near the refrigerator. It was still early. Audrey had always tended to clock-in more than a half hour before anyone else in her department. “I guess that I could take you through a bit of the game,” she relented, “as long as I keep an eye on the time.”

At this point, even Bendy turned to watch this new activity, and Audrey inwardly sighed in relief.

Then an issue popped up that, she realized, should have come to mind right away. She stared at the checkers laid out on the board, and up at The Ink Demon scowling at her from the mirror, who was unable to touch them himself. However, an idea came to mind.

“All right, I just have to mark the coordinates, so you can play,” Audrey said, hurrying to retrieve a pen. She marked up board along its edges, with a number beside each row of squares, running vertically, and then a number along each of the squares along the top of the board, running horizontally.

She turned to Bendy. “Do you think you could help me out a bit? I would really appreciate it.”

Bendy saluted.

“Good. I’ll need you to move The Ink Demon’s checker pieces for him when he calls out the coordinates.” Audrey indicated the numbers and letters, and carefully explained how they worked. Bendy’s grin widened as he listened, like he usually did when she explained a fun new thing for them to try. Getting the coordinates right would be a game all by itself for him.

Next, Audrey proceeded to explain the rules of the game, from moving around the board, to jumping over the opponent’s pieces (multiple times, in some cases), to reaching the other end of the board and achieving royal status.

The Ink Demon sneered. “Simple enough. Prepare to perish.”

“We’ll see,” Audrey replied.

A memory bobbed to the surface of her mind as they began the game. A memory long forgotten in the back of her mind. Of an apartment in which soft, jazzy music played on a phonograph, and she had sat on a metal, fold-up chair beside a tv tray, opposite her father in a bathrobe. Between them was the same checkerboard, and they were moving the pieces.

Her father had told her something towards the end of their game. Something important. Audrey could remember his lips moving, and a softness in his face. But she couldn’t remember what he had told her. Such things had tended to strangely fade from her mind, leaving her with the vague impression that she had had led quite a normal childhood—and not come from an Ink Machine. Still, these small moments did resurface from time to time.

Even with the unexpected memory, Audrey concentrated on the present game in front of her. It was why she was the first one to jump one of The Ink Demon’s pieces.

“You got lucky,” The Ink Demon snarled in resentment. “It will not happen a second time.”

Audrey didn’t respond. She was too busy playing to get distracted by anything her opponent said. Only when she had jumped his final piece did she allow herself the luxury of leaning back and smirking. “I win,” she announced.

The Ink Demon roared with such fury it made his image in the mirror vibrate. “We will play again,” he demanded.

Audrey glanced up at the clock. The first match hadn’t taken very long, and she couldn’t deny it how good it was to see The Ink Demon get invested in checkers so swiftly. “All right, one more game before I leave,” she said.

Their second game moved at a slower pace, and it was obvious The Ink Demon had gotten flustered from his loss the first time, but they were more evenly matched this time around. Audrey had to admit she was impressed. She would move a piece, and then The Ink Demon would take a moment before ordering Bendy to move one of his pieces to certain coordinates.

What surprised Audrey the most, however, was Bendy. During the first game, the little guy had indeed just moved the checkers wherever The Ink Demon directed him, with his usual grin and a lighthearted air. But for the second game, a look of serious concentration had settled into his expression. He frowned while studying the board, and even though The Ink Demon kept his attention on the spot where the latest move had happened, Bendy continuously glanced at the rest of the pieces and their positions.

Audrey had watched Bendy calculate or figure things out before, or even just look especially thoughtful about some issue before them, but there was a certain intensity in his face now that took her aback in wonder.

As the game wound down, pieces disappeared off the board left and right. Audrey knew it was going to be close this time, and The Ink Demon must have sensed the same thing. He sniggered with expectation. There was a move here, Audrey saw, that depending on what The Ink Demon did would either secure him a win or allow her to claim his final pieces.

Well, let’s see how much he has learned, Audrey thought. She moved her piece.

The Ink Demon called out coordinates—but Bendy hesitated. His gaze slid elsewhere on the board. After a long moment, The Ink Demon snarled, “What are you doing? Move!”

Bendy continued to hesitate, one finger on the checker.

Audrey tried to calm down the situation before it escalated any further. “Perhaps you should let Bendy move one on his own.”

“No!” The Ink Demon snapped. “I will decide the fate of this game alone.” With that, he declared the coordinates again, and although Bendy was clearly very reluctant to do so, he placed the piece on the ordered location.

Audrey sighed, then jumped the last several pieces to the end of the board. “I win again,” she said.

Another roar echoed from The Ink Demon, more flustered than after the first game. “We will play again, and this time I will crush you,” he hissed.

However, Audrey was already getting up and grabbing the bag she usually brought along for work—filled with extra supplies, paperwork, and more for the day ahead. “This evening, we can,” she promised. “I need to go right now,” here she smiled, “but maybe Bendy would like to play a few games against you. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind moving the checkers around on your behalf as well.”

The Ink Demon snorted. “He would be too easy to defeat.”

“You might be surprised.”

Meanwhile, Bendy had gone back to looking through Fluffy the Bunny, although now he appeared quite frustrated himself. Being forced to do something he didn’t want to do by The Ink Demon had put him in a bad mood, and he threw wistful glances towards the apartment door that made Audrey worried all over again that he might just try something after she was gone.

Time was ticking. She would have to rush to the studio as it was now, but she also needed to alleviate some of the tension in the room.

Audrey turned to The Ink Demon. “I would be very grateful if you would play a few games of checkers with Bendy, so he can have a turn as well,” she said. “After all, it is good to pass along the love of a game like checkers onto others.” The memory of her sitting around the same checkerboard, many years ago, came to mind again.

“You just want me to keep him busy,” The Ink Demon huffed, “until you come back.”

“There is that as well, I’ll admit. Even so, you could stand to be nicer to him.” Then Audrey smiled. “All I’m asking is for you to play a few games together and be civil. And then, well,” she swallowed, hoping this next bit would work, “we can visit Tony’s Pizzeria tomorrow after I get home, and enjoy another pepperoni pizza, or maybe one with a few other toppings.”

“Now you are offering a bribe.”

“I was going to bring you two there anyway, so it’s not much of a bribe.” Audrey bit her lip as she darted a glance at the clock. “It is just an award, given a bit earlier than originally planned for keeping each other company.”

She knelt beside Bendy. As she gently patted him between his horns, Audrey consoled him, “Look, I know The Ink Demon can be difficult to get along with, but some of that comes from loneliness, and loneliness… is a sad thing.”

“Excuse me?” The Ink Demon snarled, even as Bendy nodded his head in agreement.

Audrey smiled at the cartoonish imp. “Please try to be patient and play a few games with him to help him feel better. I can count on you, right?”

Bendy saluted her.

“Good.” Soon afterwards, as Audrey rushed out of the apartment complex and along the street, she mused on the nature of their two checkers games they had played.

If The Ink Demon had only let Bendy help him out just a little…

Well, maybe they would reach more of an understanding. The two of them rarely exchanged so much as a look. It was true The Ink Demon had often criticized Bendy, but mostly while he was talking to Audrey. Meanwhile, Bendy tended to ignore The Ink Demon unless, as had been the case that morning, called upon by Audrey to listen or respond to what he said.

They shared so much, such as basically the same body, with all the physical senses—although trying new food was where this fact had been the most evident. Yet their minds were separate, and from what Audrey could tell, neither one of them knew exactly what the other one was thinking. If they could, she was sure that second chess game would have ended much differently.

Oh well, she thought while pushing her way through a crush of people at the crosswalk, I hope they can get along better someday.

Her co-workers seemed a bit surprised when Audrey came in right on-time.

“You’re not feeling sick, are you?” Marge, a writer for their department, poked her head around the door into Audrey’s office. Golden chains hung off the handles of her oversized glasses, and there were always several pencils sticking out of the bun of her gingery hair. “I know it’s none of my business or anything, but you’ve been a bit…. different lately.”

Audrey sunk onto her chair. She would have normally just assured Marge as calmly as possible that nothing was wrong and returned to setting up her work desk. However, as she looked at Marge standing there so expectantly, and a bit anxiously, she couldn’t help thinking of Bendy getting brushed off by The Ink Demon earlier without a thought. It was a huge difference, of course, but it was still there.

As such, she found herself admitting aloud, “Well, yes, I guess a lot of things have changed in my life recently, and I am just trying to do the best that I can to make everything work out well.”

“Oh, don’t I know that feeling!” Marge relaxed a bit. “In my case, I’m in the middle of racking my brains for a great story idea for the next Bendy cartoon, but I’m having some terrible writer’s block.” She looked at her pleadingly, hands clasped together in front of her. “Any ideas?”

It was the first time Audrey had been asked for a story idea by one of the writers. She thought for a moment. “Well,” she said carefully, “what about a story where Bendy plays checkers against his own shadow?”

Marge considered this concept, twirling a strain of her hair in one of her fingers. “His own shadow? Hmm. Something like that could happen, couldn’t it?” she mused aloud. Then her eyes brightened. The idea had taken root. “Hey, that really would be something. I think I can work with that!” She grabbed one of the pencils out of her hair and plucked a notebook out of her pocket, jotting things down ravenously. When she looked up, though, all Audrey glimpsed was gratitude.

“Thanks, Audrey, you’re the best! You’ve really saved me!”

Audrey smiled. “You’re welcome.”

“See you later,” Marge gave a quick wave and hurried off towards her desk, looking very happy, while Audrey couldn’t deny what a nice moment of connection it had been between her and one of her co-workers.

Maybe The Ink Demon wasn’t the only one who needed to learn how to be a bit nicer to the ones around him.

The rest of that workday went smoothly enough, although Audrey continued to worry about what she might find when she returned home. She had been in such a rush, between trying to calm The Ink Demon and soothe Bendy, that she might have just provoked something by suggesting they each go out of their way to interact with each other. And then there had been the yearning look in Bendy’s expression as he looked at the apartment door. Exactly what could be happening back home kept her thoughts in a whirl.

It was little wonder, perhaps, that she beat Andrew to the door when quitting time rolled around, and then compounded on the feat by hurrying back to the apartment at a feverish pace. She practically sprinted up the stairwell—the elevator would have been too slow—and reached her floor right as Mr. Ferguson opened his apartment door.

“Feel free to drop by any time, do you hear me?” Mr. Ferguson was saying, as Bendy stepped into the hallway. Gasping in astonishment, Audrey nearly dropped her bag. She stared, incredulous.

Bendy had gotten dressed in the disguise used when they went to Central Park. The checkerboard was tucked under his arm, and he clutched the pouch with the checkers. He also seemed quite proud of himself.

Audrey approached, slightly dazed, and Mr. Ferguson noticed her. “Ah, welcome home, Audrey,” he rasped. “Little Benny here has been keeping me company.”

Bendy’s expression lit up at seeing her. He came running to throw his free arm around her legs in a hug, and Audrey carefully patted the top of his hood. “He wasn’t any trouble, was he?” Audrey asked, still trying to figure out exactly what had happened.

Mr. Ferguson shook his head. “Nah, I’ve never seen such a good kid. He happened to catch me having a rough time and came to help me out.”

“Oh. Well, that was good of him,” Audrey said, caught between concern that Bendy had left the apartment and happiness that he had gone out of his way to help Mr. Ferguson.

The landlord sighed. “He kept an old man company for a while, and I’ve got to say that you’ve got quite the checkers player on your hands. He certainly kept up with me!” He tipped an invisible hat to them. “Well, good evening and good night.”

Once Mr. Ferguson had gone back into his apartment, Audrey took Bendy by the hand and led him back to their apartment. Before they went inside, she knelt before him. “Thank you for what you’ve clearly done for Mr. Ferguson.”

Bendy’s grin became visible over the scarf around the lower half of his face.

“But you shouldn’t leave the apartment without me,” Audrey said. “I—I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

The little guy wrung his hands, apologetic.

“The Ink Demon didn’t refuse to play checkers with you or say something that made you leave, did he?”

Bendy hurriedly shook his head. He tugged her towards the door.

Once they slipped inside, The Ink Demon growled, “The old man had trouble carrying boxes to his apartment. We heard him struggling.” He sounded wistful, but then hissed, “Do not blame me.”

“So, that’s why you went out?” Audrey asked. When Bendy nodded, she smiled. “Well, that really was good of you. Mr. Ferguson is a nice gentleman, but he does get lonely from time to time.”

Bendy nodded again. By now, he had probably heard several of Mr. Ferguson’s stories of troubles overcome and family members lost—including the mysterious disappearance of his brother, years ago.

Then Audrey recalled their conversation from that morning, and their discussion of loneliness.

Ah, so that was it.

“And I see you decided to help him to feel better by playing checkers together,” Audrey said, indicating the checkerboard. She helped him to remove his disguise.

Bendy beamed.

“Well, I guess it wouldn’t be too bad if you went to visit him every once in a while—as long as you’re careful.”

“Enough talk,” The Ink Demon grumbled. “Time for our game.” As he said these words, Bendy rushed to unfold the board on the table and lay out the checkers, and then hopped onto the seat near one end of the board.

“Right, I did promise you a game,” Audrey replied. She sat down. “Who should I play first?”

“Both of us,” The Ink Demon sniggered, looking especially wicked.

“’Both of you’?” Audrey glanced between them, but they shared a similar smugness. It was wondrous.

The Ink Demon noticed her bewilderment and huffed, “I have noticed that he has,” he paused for a breath before grudgingly pressing on, “certain insights.”

Audrey smiled. “I see. All right, then.”

“Bendy and I will crush you,” The Ink Demon snarled, and Bendy pumped a fist in the air in his excitement.

With that, their game got underway—with The Ink Demon sometimes shouting coordinates and Bendy sometimes making moves on his own—and the tide of battle slowly began to overwhelm Audrey’s forces. It was a true challenge.

However, The Ink Demon’s last few words kept echoing in her mind again and again for some reason… at least until she realized that it was the first time Audrey had ever heard The Ink Demon address Bendy by his actual name.

As relief mingled with pleasure swelled within her, that old memory from years ago bobbed to the forefront of her mind again. Of playing checkers against her father, and the way he had looked at her with such affection and said, “You know, every game is another chance for us to get stronger, but it’s about making connections. I feel closer to you each time we play.” His thin, wrinkly smile reminded her of, now that Audrey could make the comparison, the ink version of himself from The Ink World.

The Ink Demon and Bendy won the game, and they were thrilled with their victory—especially The Ink Demon. “You will never win again!” he declared.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. “Audrey chuckled. “It was another close game. I might just beat you next time.” And when Audrey tucked Bendy into bed a bit later, she whispered to him, “I’m so proud of you. Both of you.”

She headed towards bed, but then noticed the sketchbook laying on her desk out of the corner of one eye—and she was a bit startled to realize that in the middle of everything that had happened, she had forgotten her anxiety about how Henry and the other Ink World residents had received the new location.

Audrey picked up the sketchbook and flipped towards the back. There she found a long and winding letter, with occasional sketches, by Henry.

“Let me tell you about my day,” Henry wrote.

So, Audrey sat down and started to read.

Chapter Text

Henry was having another nightmare. A part of his mind insisted that, any moment now, he would wake up, and everything would be just fine. Meanwhile, another far more careworn part of his mind shot back that he had repeated such things like a mantra for years. The Cycle would always reset, regardless of what he did. There was always a chance he would once more wind up where he currently was in the nightmare—which happened to be a certain room with an organ and lined by eerie portraits.

Stomping towards him was Boris, or at least the remnants of Boris strapped into an awkward suit that propelled him forward. The twisted version of Alice Angel had crammed his only friend in the studio into large white pants, with a cylindrical cage attached about the shoulders to keep his head from flopping about too much, and stuck his hands into oversized gloves that gave him enough strength to hurl whole minecarts.

Each footfall of the oversized boots rattled the fragments of crates scattered throughout the room. The wolf, eyes X’d out, swayed back and forth and spewed ink from within the depths of his opened chest.

“Oh, Boris,” Henry groaned again in despair. “What has she done to you?” Biting back tears, he gripped the wrench by his side, clambered to his feet, and charged at his devastated former ally, determined to put him out of his misery.

***

Henry awoke with a gasp, sweating, and gripped at a wrench that wasn’t there. His heart was racing. The sudden movement caused his hammock to rock, and he threw a glance around the room as if he were struggling to find his way in the dark. Except there was plenty of light here. A lantern hung from the wall opposite, and another one sat on the desk built just for him close at hand. He could reach out and grasp at the sketchpad and the collection of pencils within moments.

There was also a cot in this narrow room, just in the corner, unmade—while a phonograph resting upon a crate next to it played gentle, jazzy music. Clarinet music.

Henry moaned, taking in the old Bendy cartoon posters on the walls, the bones—thankfully not from anyone he was knew—around the steamer trunk right underneath the hammock, and the fact that the heavy-duty door, like something one might find in a submarine, was ajar. An aroma that featured a mixture of ink, humidity, and bacon soup wafted through it.

He rubbed a hand across his face, and then stared at it—the same hand that had struck down Boris only two Cycles ago. Movement echoed from down the hallway, and Allison was singing. It was a soft tune. Something to do with the warmth of community, a shared meal, and hope for the future.

Hope. Henry didn’t know if he understood the concept of hope anymore, although at least it didn’t leave a sour taste in his mouth like “dreams.”

Intermingled with the song was the pungent smell of bacon soup, which Allison was probably cooking. Henry shuddered. None of them needed to eat unless it was to get their strength back, not really. But Allison had insisted on it, and now they all took turns cooking… well, what was basically just more bacon soup.

The faintest flicker of rebellion stirred in him. Henry turned over in the hammock and simply laid there. With any luck, everyone would leave him in peace when he didn’t emerge from the room. About a minute later, though, the door creaked open a bit further, and he heard a soft whine. Henry turned his head a fraction, just enough to see Boris standing there and looking expectant.

“Good—” Henry flicked a glance towards the Bendy-shaped clock on the wall “—morning, Buddy.” Boris seemed to enjoy being called “Buddy.” His ears would perk up, and if he’d had a tail, it would probably be wagging. As such, Henry and the others had taken to calling him by it like a nickname more and more. He was tall and thin, dressed in his usual white overalls. “Let me guess, you’re here to get me for ‘breakfast,’ right?”

Buddy nodded, including a thumbs-up for a good measure. And normally the sight of this goofy wolf could lift his spirits a bit. However, after that nightmare…

Henry sighed. “Sorry, Buddy, but I don’t have much of an appetite right now. Maybe later, okay?” He laid his head back down while Buddy whimpered a bit longer. It made his insides ache more than they already did to hear that whimper. Still, he just couldn't bring himself to get up. “I’ll be okay. Go ahead and eat,” he added.

After what seemed an interminable silence, he heard Buddy plod off down the hall. Henry rocked slowly in the hammock as he listened to Buddy whimpering in the kitchen, and then heard Allison say, “He’s refusing to get out of bed? Well, we’ll see about that.”

Given the way she put it, Henry expected Allison to march into the room and make her own attempt at rousing him. Instead, Allison proved it was non-negotiable by sending Tom to do the deed.

Tom was as much like Buddy as, if Audrey’s reports were accurate, The Ink Demon was like the Bendy who lived with her. Complete opposites—from what he could tell.

Buddy would have continued to make patient attempts to get him up. Tom, meanwhile, took more of a straightforward approach to the situation. He shoved the door open the rest of the way with a curt grunt, flexed the fingers at the end of his one mechanical arm—which Allison would only confess was the result of an accident—grabbed Henry, and unceremoniously dragged the old animator out of bed and down the hall. Henry was barely able to regain his feet, cursing quietly and telling Tom to let up a little (he didn’t) until they reached the kitchen, where the wolf pushed him into a chair around the table.

From the chair next to him, Buddy looked up from gulping down another large serving of bacon soup to present him with a welcoming smile—right before he started licking the depths of the depleted bowl.

Another bowl, this one full to the brim with bacon soup, got placed in front of him by Allison. She was, by definition, an Alice Angel, but the opposite of the twisted version who had tortured Henry and Buddy in so many past Cycles.

Opposites. Henry lived in a realm of opposites. He rubbed his temples with one hand.

“Another rough night, Henry?” Allison asked.

“They’re all rough nights, frankly,” Henry said as he pushed away the soup. “I wasn’t exactly feeling ready to get up.” There came the slam of a door. Tom had stalked out of the kitchen, and thus out of the safehouse and into the studio. “Why isn’t Tom eating?” Henry asked.

Allison went back to stirring a sizable pot of bacon soup bubbling on the stove. “He ate already, earlier,” she said. “Apparently, there is something going on today, and The Lost Ones are more restless than usual. Tom says many of them are traveling towards the subway and city. You know, near the old Gent Workshop. He wants to investigate the situation.”

The old Gent Workshop—now there was another nightmare waiting to happen.

“The Lost Ones haven’t said anything about the Keepers, have they?” It was something Henry dreaded even now. Wilson was gone. Audrey had taken care of him, wiped out his madness, and seemingly done the same thing to the Keepers when she reset the Cycle. But the old Gent Workshop still stood there, looming and intimidating.

If more terrors emerged from that workshop… Henry couldn’t stand the thought.

“No, it seems like there has been no activity at all on that front,” Allison said, as if reading his mind. “Instead, The Lost Ones are talking about some kind of ‘shift in the ink.’ New feelings and sensations.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “Whatever is going on, we’ll figure it out and take care of it, Henry.”

Henry glanced up. Allison had gone back to stirring, but there was a determined look on her face that made him realize she was trying hard to offer comfort in her own way.

Well, he might as well do his part. “I don’t think Tom cares much for me,” he muttered.

“Oh, nonsense,” Allison replied, a smile tweaking her lips. “It takes him a while to warm up to others, but you’ve already made great progress with him.”

“How can you tell?”

“He isn’t watching you like you’re about to explode into an ink beast. Also, he hasn’t insisted that you’re dangerous and need to be locked up.” She said it jokingly, but Henry could remember countless cycles where Tom had insisted that he be locked up. Then, when danger had threatened, Tom had forced Allison to leave him to break out on his own.

Henry probably would have been stuck in there until The Ink Demon came to devour him if it hadn’t been for the strange messages in golden ink found around his cell thanks to the Seeing Tool. The scanner had revealed life-saving clues, even if its origins were unknown. Additionally, Henry had never discovered who had left him those specific clues to break out; it hadn’t been him. Whoever it was had written a compliment about his drawing skills.

Allison misinterpreted his sudden silence, realizing another possible reason for it. “Oh, but I don’t mean Tom would ever be like the Keepers. He would have eventually let you out once he knew you were harmless, and I would have made sure you were comfortable until he came around.”

Well, Henry thought, at least that had been somewhat true. Allison had ensured that Henry had a relatively comfortable bed to sleep on, and she had brought him bowl after bowl of bacon soup because it was all that they’d had. Thinking on it, Henry looked at the newest bowl of bacon soup that Allison had given him, pulled it closer, and started to eat.

They went on that way for a while. Henry ate, Buddy slurped, and Allison stirred the pot. A certain peace settled upon the kitchen that Henry was still getting used to, since his had never felt quite so calm before. Even when imprisoned by the Keepers, there had been the constant strain of things staying the same for a seemingly interminable stretch of time, surrounded by empty walls and without anyone with whom to interact. Certainly, there had been no one to look forward to seeing then.

Allison started to sing softly. “All together, we can come at last,” she crooned into the stillness, almost absently. “All together from the past, into a future that is ours to have,” her eyes lifted, gazing at some vision only she could glimpse, “and ours to keep."

Henry finished his soup and laid aside his spoon. “You sing beautifully,” he murmured.

“Oh!” Allison jerked, startled out of her own daydream. Then a shadow passed across her features, and she switched off the stove. “Well, I guess so. I don’t usually think much about it. It’s just… a bit of stress relief, maybe. You need that down here, after all.”

“I don’t remember any song like that for Alice Angel recorded on the old records or written on the sheet music throughout the studio.” Henry knew he would have remembered it. He’d had more than enough opportunities to explore places like the Music Department, even with that lunatic Sammy lurking about.

“To be honest, it’s something I happened to make up on my own, little by little,” Allison admitted. “As I said, it’s become a means to relieve some stress, and I suppose it has grown over time. Or, at least, since the last Cycle.”

“You should really sing the whole thing for us sometime.”

“You think?”

Henry was about to insist that she sing a few bars when the door slammed open, making all three of them jump and whirl about. Buddy was so shocked that he dropped his bowl on the floor, where is shattered into several pieces—thankfully, all pieces that had been licked clean already.

Tom stood there on the threshold, a frantic look on his face that made the whole scene all the crazier. In all the time that Henry had known him, the wolf had worn a serious, critical expression that seemed to suggest here was a wolf who would have eaten nails for breakfast if Allison hadn’t insisted on softer foods to make everyone else more comfortable around him. But now the wolf’s eyes were wide, his chest was heaving as if he had run a great distance very quickly, and the axe he had clearly picked up along the way as a means of distance was about ready to drop from his fingers.

“Oh, my goodness, Tom, what happened?!” Allison rushed over to him, affectionately laying a hand on one side of his head as she ran a concerned glance over his form to check for injuries. “Is there danger? Come inside and take a moment to calm down. We can—”

Tom laid a hand on her shoulder, cutting her off, and shook his head. He made soft grunts and barking noises that only Allison seemed able to understand. Henry still hadn’t picked up the knack, although he knew by the way Buddy whimpered beside him that the poor pup was worried about what was happening.

“It’s all right, Buddy,” Henry assured him. It felt like such a hollow promise, uttered so often in the past right before disaster struck, but he still had to say something. After all, for Buddy, this was the one and only Cycle he could ever remember.

How lucky for him, Henry mused.

Allison turned to face them. “Tom says that more Lost Ones than he has ever seen in one place before are flowing towards some new area in the city, and there might be violence.”

A new area?

Henry turned this idea over in his mind for a few moments before a memory elbowed him. He stood up. “Audrey was talking about making new locations for us to enjoy in this world.”

Everyone took a moment to consider this statement, and to let the implications sink in a bit. Then Allison frowned. “If it is a new location Audrey has created for us, we have to keep The Lost Ones from destroying it.” She looked at him. “Right?”

Henry stared around at his companions. He thought of how close going to the city would take them to the old Gent Workshop, and the prospect sent a chill through him. He thought about Audrey, sounded so hopeful in her letters as she talked about making The Ink World better for everyone.

He hesitated. “Well, I—”

They heard the creak of a crate in the corner opening. Buddy was digging through it, and he pulled out a wrench. He tested the heft of it for a moment, and then came to stand beside Allison and Tom.

Buddy, justly terrified at so much in the studio, had taken immediate action.

Well, it was certainly turning out to be a day full of unexpected twists. Henry sighed. “One moment,” he uttered. He went to the room he shared with Buddy, then returned with the axe he usually kept in the steamer trunk. “I guess I have no choice.”

“That’s the spirit,” Allison said. “Lead the way, Tom.”

***

After following Tom along hallways and side passageways, through airshafts, and up and down several ladders, they reached a room overlooking the city at last. The dirtied glass read, “A city built on broken dreams.” Tall buildings with constantly lighted windows filled the view, but Tom was quick to point out the groups of Lost Ones down on the street, walking together in groups around a corner and out of sight to the left.

Henry frowned, turning towards a set of stairs from the room that led downwards, which he knew would let out in the area where the Lost Ones were heading. Allison and Tom knew it as well, while Buddy hung a bit back, albeit with nervous conviction, while clutching the wrench.

“All right, we’d better be ready for a fight, if necessary,” Allison said. She pulled out the sword she kept about her person, taking the lead as they descended the stairs. Together, weapons prepared, they stepped to the threshold of the city—and froze.

The first major thing they noticed was that the end of the street, where there had been a huge billboard and a wall, was gone. Now there was an opened space beyond it, and the type of landscape Henry only knew about because some of the details Joey Drew figured he would remember from beyond the studio were lodged in his consciousness.

Except it wasn’t just beyond the studio anymore. It was here.

The Lost Ones were venturing into the area. They weren’t shouting or upset. It was more like they were mystified, or perhaps hypnotized by this fresh spot.

Henry knew the feeling. He found himself moving towards the opening in the same mesmerized manner, followed closely by the others. A few Lost Ones continued to stream out from between buildings elsewhere, but they didn’t attack at all.

Past the opening… was a vast park. Grass covered most of it, with trees scattered throughout, and benches, and walkways winding between things. The sky was still dark, but now there were stars. Bright, pinpoints of light around the moon. The Lost Ones were everywhere in the park, touching trees, crunching across the grass, sitting on the benches, and strolling along the edge of a great lake towards its center. This lake was made up of ink, but the way the ink moved reminded Henry more of rippling water.

A sign near its entrance read: “Welcome to Ink Harmony Park.”

They walked along the walkways for a while, speechless. Their weapons hung at their sides, no longer uplifted, as they gazed around in wonder. By the time they reached a sort of cobblestone plaza that overlooked the lake, tears were dripping down Allison’s cheeks.

“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” she breathed, gazing around at this environment where none of The Lost Ones were angry or violent. Instead, they were enjoying themselves.

Henry caught sight of one Lost One, with a huge bowtie around her neck, crying out, “Oh, I love to play! And I’ll play all day if I want to! No one can stop me!” right before she went rolling down a grassy hill.

They seemed so… happy.

Even Tom seemed flummoxed by the whole spectacle, inspecting the construction of the plaza and scratching at the trunk of a tree to test its texture. Meanwhile, Buddy had flopped down underneath the same tree and was leaning against it, seeming at ease, with a big smile on his face.

Henry was still trying to register his own impressions about the whole thing. There was something deep within him that was swelling up. It seemed familiar, somehow, but it took him a while to define it as he stared out at the scene.

“If these are the types of locations that Audrey is making,” Allison spoke up, still gazing out in wonder, “I’m excited to see what she makes next.” She had calmed down a little, but her voice still quivered a bit in, Henry realized with a start, happiness—and something more.

Ah, that was the feeling he had tried to define.

He was feeling hope. For the first time in who knew how long.

“One location isn’t much, compared to the whole studio,” Henry muttered.

“Maybe, but it’s a start, isn’t it?” Allison shot back.

Then she took a few steps forward, and she began to sing:

“All together, we can come at last.

All together from the past, into a future that is ours to have.

Ours to keep.

Ours to hold onto… forever.”

As Allison continued to sing, Lost Ones paused in their merriment to draw close and listen. Tom came to stand beside Henry, watching the crowds with his usual vigilance. Not looking at Henry at all. Remembering what Allison had said about Tom, the whole thing seemed like a compliment from the cautious wolf.

Henry smiled. “Allison is quite the singer, isn’t she, Tom?”

Tom blinked, seeming surprised to have been asked such a question by him. But he nodded, giving a curt grunt.

“Hey, thanks for getting me out of bed, by the way,” Henry continued. “I—don’t think I would have wanted to miss all this.” He held out a hand to him.

The wolf studied him for a long moment, and then he reached out and shook his hand.

It felt like the first day in a new chapter of all their lives.

***

That evening, Henry made his way up to the fake studio entrance. The same one where he had started so many of his cycles. He found the message from Audrey in the mailbox, read it, and burst out laughing. Another major surprise—since he couldn’t remember ever having laughed before. He had never had a reason to do so, until that day.

He walked to his old desk in a corner, gently pushed aside a sketch of Bendy with his name signed near the bottom corner and wrote at the top of a new sheet of paper, “Dear Audrey, let me tell you about my day.”

Henry poured out all the events that had occurred, just as they had happened, up until that moment. Then he included, “P.S. I know you have just gotten started, but I have a personal request. Please give us some readily available nourishment aside from candy, energy bars, and a lot of bacon soup.”

Then he sealed it up, stuck it in the mailbox, and left to rejoin his friends.

Chapter Text

“All together from the past,” Audrey sang as she mixed some batter in a bowl, tapping out a beat on its rim with a wooden spoon as she swayed from side-to-side. “Ours to keep. All ours to keep.” The lyrics played again in her mind, joyous and uplifting.

The residents of The Ink World had loved the new location she had sketched. A new chapter was beginning, and she was savoring the wave of happiness from a job well done, with a great deal more to accomplish just ahead. Like starting a whole new animation project.

It was around this point that Bendy entered the kitchen, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He yawned, stretched, and noticed Audrey’s moves. He popped into full awareness instantly, and a moment later, Audrey found she had a dancing partner. Audrey even tried to mimic some of Bendy’s tapdancing—at least the slower ones. Noticing her attempts, Bendy seemed to make a conscious effort to slow the rest of his steps, so Audrey could follow along.

They tapped one foot forward, then tapped it behind them, did a twirl, and went through the same routine with the other foot. After that, they clapped their hands and laughed.

“Stop dancing like idiots,” The Ink Demon snarled, “and make breakfast. It is sickening to watch you thrash about so uselessly.”

Audrey did stop, albeit mostly because she didn’t want to rush to work again. “You’re in a bit of a mood,” she murmured. Then, refusing to let him dampen her spirits, she pressed on, “I just can’t help wanting to celebrate a bit.” She reached into the cupboard and pulled out a waffle iron. “The Ink Harmony Park location went over great.”

She poured the batter into the iron and closed the lid, while Bendy watched on in fascination. It was the first time Audrey had made this breakfast option, since she had only recently recalled the waffle iron hidden behind other kitchen supplies. The fact that had happened right after adding to The Ink World was a happy bonus and extra treat for them.

The Ink Demon hissed, “I know. I could feel it.”

Audrey blinked in surprise. The implications took several seconds to sink in past all the excitement, but when they did, she turned around and asked, “You felt it? Even though you’re… well…?”

“I am The Ink Demon.” His words sounded like venom now, more poisonous than she had heard him be in a while. “The Dark Puddles still whisper to me of my world. I am connected to it.”

Now there was something Audrey hadn’t expected to hear. Sealed away within Bendy, with The Ink Machine all the way at the studio, The Ink Demon could at least sense that world. Then again, he had refused to answer questions about himself so often before that Audrey had stopped asking. Still having a connection to it from such a distance gave rise to other questions.

The waffle iron pinged, and Audrey switched it off and pried the two resulting waffles onto a plate for Bendy before pouring in more batter.

She decided to go with the simplest question that came to mind. “How did it make you feel?”

Sensing an important question, Bendy paused in the middle of pouring syrup onto a waffle to look at The Ink Demon for his reaction. The sudden silence was only shared with the slow sizzle of cooking that was going on nearby.

The Ink Demon huffed, “Warm.” Then he made low gurgling sounds deep in his throat that indicated some apparent hesitation. A rarity for him. “The Ink is cold, but now…” he growled, groping for the words to complete his sentence before spitting out, “a patch of it is warm.” It didn’t seem like satisfactory enough for him, though. He snorted in frustration, scratching at his oozing face with one of his sharp claws. The ink about his forehead bubbled noticeably.

As Audrey studied these strange features, there came another ping.

“That’s interesting,” Audrey said as she retrieved her waffles and sat down at the table. Something was going on with The Ink Demon today, and it was putting her a bit on edge. So, she chose another tack. She glanced at Bendy and asked him, “Can you feel The Ink World too?”

Bendy shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

“Bendy is not connected to The Ink World the way I am,” The Ink Demon had begun to wheeze, in addition to his gurgling. He shook his head as if trying to dislodge a troublesome thought, and he kept scratching at his face.

Audrey watched him with growing concern as she munched her waffle, considering this new detail. Here was another difference between the two demons, although it was likely still attributable to each one having their own minds and perspectives.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“The Ink has always been cold,” The Ink Demon’s wheezing grew harsher. “Cold and dark and full of despair.” He shook his head again, frantically. “Now that patch is warm. It tingles. There are voices raised in that annoying song. Different from the changes by Wilson, his talk of uniting The Ink World, and the pain of his signal towers, but still changes. Shifts in The Ink. It is different from anything I have ever felt there. Different than expected. Ominous in its complexity.” The mirror image of him quivered as he kept scratching at the ink on his face. “Warm and lit and… and…” He wheezed faster and faster.

Bendy looked alarmed, and Audrey dropped her fork at the realization that, for the first time ever, she was seeing The Ink Demon panic. Really panic.

“Ink Demon. Ink Demon!” Audrey’s chair tumbled backwards in her rush to grip the mirror. “Stop! You need to calm down.” The Ink Demon continued to wheeze and shudder. She touched the glass, but it was hard and cold. She couldn’t reach through it, couldn’t touch him.

Then again… her mind raced as she whirled about, just about to hurry around the table—except Bendy had already rushed around to her, shivering, and clearly panicking for his own reasons on top of what was happening to The Ink Demon.

Audrey scooped Bendy up into her arms and hugged him close, making gentle shushing sounds as she rubbed his back.

“Calm down,” Audrey ordered The Ink Demon, as calmly as possible.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” The Ink Demon wheezed back at her, the distortion of his image getting worse. “I don’t need your pity! Just leave me alone.” But he sounded strained.

Bendy squeezed her tighter.

“It’s not pity,” Audrey shot back at him. “It’s concern, and I’m not going to leave you alone until you listen to me.”

“This is your fault,” The Ink Demon gasped out. “The Ink shifted. You did something to it with your ‘park.’”

Audrey kept her voice level as she asked, “Did it hurt?”

“No, it is just warm, and the warmth is spreading. The Lost Ones are riotous with that warmth. Like a poison. Intoxicating as pizza.”

That analogy, added with such solemness on top of everything else, took Audrey aback. So, what she did hadn’t caused any kind of ‘pain,’ at least. Just a new sensation. It was just something, she realized, The Ink Demon was unable to describe or understand. That kind of fear.

The Ink Demon wheezed on, “Now I cannot breathe. I am falling apart. You must have poisoned me.” Desperation clung to his words.

“You’re not falling apart,” Audrey declared, knowing she needed to stay firm, “and you’re not poisoned. You’re having a panic—” she paused, deciding to sidestep any hints of an “attack” in favor of amending her statement to, “You’re panicking. Just breathe, slowly.”

With that said, she pulled Bendy back enough for him to watch her take slow and steady breaths, and to release them in the same way. Terrified as the little guy was, he followed along right away. They breathed together in that manner for a minute or two, listening as the wheezes started to ebb, grew less jerky, and smoothed out.

She sighed in relief. Thank goodness, it seemed to have worked. The demons may not have shared the same mind, but the proper breathing exercises to combat anxiety could still impact the pair of them.

Once calmness had settled over everything again, Audrey set Bendy back onto his chair, where the cartoonish imp—no longer shivering—attacked his waffles with his usual appetite. The taste of the waffles clearly excited him as much as his first taste of pancakes had. His eyes sparkled.

As for The Ink Demon, he had gone quiet. In the reflection, he seemed to be leaning forward a bit, resting his head upon his crossed arms as if he were laying down to sleep. He didn’t appear anxious anymore—just exhausted. He failed to react to the waffles, even though he probably found them as delicious as Bendy did at that time.

“I do not understand you, Audrey,” he rasped, instead.

Audrey swallowed another bite of her meal. “Oh? What don’t you understand?”

“Your main purpose was not to calm Bendy. It was to calm me,” he rasped. “You did it for my sake.” He paused again, gurgling deep in his throat. “Why did you do it for me? It is like the checkers.”

“Because you were in trouble,” Audrey simply stated. “I wanted to help you.”

“But why?” The desperation was apparent again in The Ink Demon’s voice. “We are enemies. It is unnatural.”

Audrey took a moment to think about it. “I don’t think it’s so unnatural. You’ve even done the same thing.”

“Never.” It was more of a grunt than a growl.

“You helped convince Bendy to take a trip into the city with me.”

“I wanted… to watch you fail,” The Ink Demon grumbled, but Audrey caught the undercurrent of uncertainty.

“Besides, we’re not enemies,” Audrey smiled, finishing her waffles, “we’re family.”

Both Bendy and The Ink Demon perked up at this announcement. However, while Bendy just cocked his head in curiosity, The Ink Demon managed some of his usual gruffness when he hissed, “What is this ‘family’?”

“Well, we’re like Henry, Allison, Tom, and Buddy in The Ink World. We stick together, help each other out, and care for one another.”

Bendy, who had long since finished his serving of waffles, was now at Audrey’s side, beaming intently and listening as if she were telling a wonderful bedtime story. She patted him between the horns.

“Wilson said he would unite The Ink World,” The Ink Demon rasped, calmer now. “He made changes, tore me apart, made The Lost Ones wilder, and made The Ink even colder. Brought us more pain.”

Audrey gazed at The Ink Demon, right where his eyes would have been underneath the ink. “Well, as I’ve said before, it’s a new Cycle, Wilson is gone, and this time all of us have a choice in creating a better future. There is always a choice.”

Bendy tapped her on the shoulder, then pointed at the clock. If Audrey didn’t rush, she would be late again. Still, she turned to The Ink Demon, “Are you okay now?”

The Ink Demon was quiet.

“Are you—”

“Yes, I am stable!” The Ink Demon snapped. “Just go already! Return, then take us to the realm of pizza.”

Ah, even with everything that had happened, The Ink Demon still remembered their plans to visit the pizzeria that evening. Her smile widened as she rushed around the apartment to grab her things. “See you both tonight,” Audrey said, heading for the door. “Stay safe!”

"Audrey," The Ink Demon rasped.

"Yes?"

"When you helped me, I felt warm," he growled softly. "It felt... good."

"Thanks."

Once again, Audrey had to rush off to work. But a certain happiness swelled within her. Mrs. Fern, who worked the front desk at Archgate Films, looked surprised to see Audrey hurry past in such high spirits, even though she only had a few minutes to spare before the workday officially got underway.

Chapter Text

The concept for a cartoon where Bendy played checkers against his shadow had gotten approved. Marge had written a first draft of the script already, and the initial storyboards were in progress. Before too long, Audrey would plunge deep into animating this newest project.

At that moment, though, Marge was gushing at her office door. “You really helped me out, you know,” she was saying. “If there’s anything I can do for you, anything at all, just name it.” Then an idea brightened her expression further. “Oh, I know! Let’s go out somewhere after work, just us gals.” She clapped her hands together. Her frizzy, gingery hair bounced at each movement. “It’ll be my treat.”

Audrey couldn’t help but smile in pleasant surprise. It was touching. None of her co-workers had ever invited her anywhere outside of work, and she was only starting to realize how nice it was to enjoy a life beyond focusing on the latest feature. Although, of course, such a detail only served to remind her about the two inky members of her household. Well, to be precise, the two other inky members of her household. Because there were still times when she forgot her origins and true nature.

Remembering them, she could only give Marge an apology. “Thank you. I really appreciate the offer. It’s just that I happen to have plans already.”

Marge’s enthusiasm faltered noticeably. Her brows knitted together as a hint of seriousness intruded. She glanced around as if making sure no one else might overhear them, and then she leaned forward a bit into the room. “Hmm. I don’t mean to pry, Audrey, and we’ve never spoken much, but I wanted to let you know that I’m here if you ever need anything.”

The clear concern in her co-worker’s voice reminded Audrey uncomfortably of her interactions with a panicking Ink Demon that morning. Marge was reaching out to her, genuinely wanting to help if anything was the matter. Obviously, the changes in her schedule—even if she was never late—and probably different little ways that she acted without realizing it, had been noticed by others. In any event, there was no way Audrey could even begin to relate what had happened in the last several weeks. Marge wouldn’t understand—and any attempts to reveal the exact truth of things could put all their lives in jeopardy if she wasn’t careful.

Instead, Audrey settled on an explanation that was basically the truth with significant omissions. “It’s a long story,” she said, because it was. “I’m taking care of a little guy who has had… a rough life so far.” That statement was also true. Tragically true.

Marge gasped. “Oh, my goodness, Audrey, so that’s what has had you rushing about. I’ve been wondering.” She grabbed Audrey by the hands and pumped them up and down. “Well, I say good for you! Your secret is safe with me, so count on me if you need anything.”

Before she could say anything more, Andrew called from across the office, “Hey, ladies! The meeting is about to start.”

“Coming!” Marge called back. She winked at Audrey and went on ahead.

Audrey watched her go, feeling happy even though she wasn’t sure exactly what Marge understood or perceived about her situation. Whatever that impression was, though, apparently Audrey had her full support.

The rest of the workday flowed along smoothly enough. In fact, Audrey headed out at quitting time filled with excitement for their evening plans—until she walked through the foyer and past the front desk, where Mrs. Fern was in the middle of an intense phone conversation.

“I’m telling you again, Mr. Gray,” Mrs. Fern said, her tone calm yet her face betraying subdued agitation. “You need to arrange for an appointment to come and speak with Mr. Arch in person about any concerns of that nature, or perhaps your lawyer can do so. I don’t have the ability or authority to force him to go and meet with you.”

She pulled the receiver away from her ear as an angry torrent of indiscernible shouts buzzed out. Mrs. Fern uttered a curse under her breath, and she stopped short of slamming the phone down afterwards, which gave Audrey enough of a distraction to hurry past before she could attract too much attention.

Mr. Gray. The name was a rock dropped into the depths of her soul. Its ripples brought to her mind certain tape recordings and messages that she had come across while navigating The Ink World.

Audrey shook her head as she strode for home.

They were safe. They had thwarted Wilson and his Keepers. Her boss, Nathan Arch, had bought up Joey Drew’s estate, including The Ink Machine, to preserve the memory of their friendship. It was technically his property now. Gent’s involvement was over… wasn’t it?

“That doesn’t mean they wouldn’t try something underhanded,” Henry had warned.

Audrey paused right outside her apartment door. “Come on, Audrey,” she whispered. “Pull it together. You’re fretting over nothing. Everything is all fine now, and we’re living happier lives without fear.” Or at least, she amended silently, only with the fear of anyone learning about them being born from The Ink Machine and residing in the Real World like normal people.

Squeaky laughter came from inside. Something must have really tickled Bendy.

She heard a low growl. “That looks nothing like me,” The Ink Demon grumbled.

A smile tweaking her lips, Audrey unlocked the door and went inside. She took a quick glance around to see what had been going on in her absence, such as that there was a checkers game all laid out on the kitchen table. Based on its layout, Bendy had won the most recent round. There were also crayons and paper beside the checkerboard, and Bendy was finishing up a picture.

The Ink Demon was watching him work—calmly and quietly.

At the sound of the door opening, though, Bendy looked up from his project. His eyes lit up, and his grin widened as he grabbed his latest creation and scampered over to her, right past a block city he must have constructed sometime earlier in the day. A block city that, Audrey happily noted, featured actual doorways here and there.

“Oh, what do you have there, Bendy?” Audrey knelt, set aside her bag, and accepted the picture presented by the cartoonish imp with great pride. “Aww, you’ve done a picture of our family.” The scene depicted bore all the hallmarks of a crayoned drawing by a child. Bendy had placed them within a place like Central Park, with a green mass underfoot to represent grass, brown for tree trunks that had more green blobs for leaves, a happy yellow sun, and blue splattered here and there for the sky.

His versions of them were not exactly stick figures but rough outlines of their forms, with smiles on their faces. The Ink Demon shown standing beside them, taller than Audrey, and done like a shadowy silhouette in black crayon. Bendy had never put The Ink Demon in any of his pictures before, and the idea that he had done so here warmed her heart.

Another first was that Bendy had tried to write their names. The letters were shaky and done with the care of someone unused to writing and who needed to think about the spelling of each word. His own name, perhaps unsurprisingly, was correct, and he had mostly managed to get Audrey’s name right as well—although he had left out the “e.” Meanwhile, The Ink Demon’s name had clearly given him a lot of trouble, and Audrey made a mental note to help Bendy improve his literacy soon.

What Bendy had ultimately written made her chuckle, though. Audrey loved the name the moment she saw it. “Oh, Bendy,” she said, reaching her feet. “This is a lovely family portrait.” Bendy bounced on his heels, while The Ink Demon groaned. “You’ve even written our names for everyone to see—Bendy, Audrey, and Inky.”

The Ink Demon growled, “Who is ‘Inky?'”

“You are,” Audrey replied, going to hang the masterpiece high on the refrigerator door. “It’s right here on our family portrait.”

“I am The Ink Demon. I have always been The Ink Demon. I am not Inky.” The Ink Demon scowled at them.

"Oh, come on, it’s wonderful,” Audrey persisted. “There’s Bendy the Dancing Demon, and you, Inky the Ink Demon.” She turned to face the mirror. “Your own special name, like a gift to commemorate your new life in this fresh Cycle. Inky.” The sound of it made her smile. “Isn’t it a good name?”

“Good…” The Ink Demon rasped softly, musingly.

Audrey had expected him to snap out an argument, or to at least growl at her. The fact that he appeared to be considering the name with such composure was a surprise. Perhaps he was still a bit tired after their hectic morning. Certainly, he seemed more subdued than usual.

At last, “Fine,” Inky the Ink Demon replied with a snort. Then, after a noticeable pause where Audrey must have regarded him in absolute befuddlement, he did growl, “Don’t just stand there. Are we going to the realm of pizza or not?”

“Huh?” The whole moment had sidetracked her, but Audrey quickly caught up again. “Oh, right.” She turned to Bendy, who was already grabbing all the parts of his disguise. As she helped him put everything on, she looked up, “Inky?”

“What?” It was gruff, but not angry.

“I just wanted to test it out again,” Audrey chuckled.

If Inky did have eyes, Audrey could tell he was rolling them. “I really do not understand you, Audrey,” he muttered with a low hiss.

Soon enough, they were ready to go and headed out, with Audrey holding Bendy’s hand the whole time. It was a quiet stroll down the stairwell, and then down to the foyer near the clear doors, and seeing the stream of people outside, Bendy turned to her and reached up his arms to indicate a ride would be much appreciated. Audrey was happy to oblige, carrying him cradled in the nook of one arm while he held on around her neck. She had found he was quite light to carry, even after gobbling down big meals.

The lights were in the buildings all along the street, from the first floors of apartment complexes to, as they went on their way, storefronts of clothing shops and all manner of gifts for shoppers, especially tourists. Bendy seemed surprisingly less nervous this time, although he still yanked down the hood over his face when they passed larger clumps of passersby. Mostly, he seemed fascinated by what was on display in the storefront windows.

What fascinated Audrey, however, was the fact that Bendy didn’t show up in their reflections in the storefront windows. Of course, the lack of his reflection in his small form had been the case ever since they left The Ink World together, but the windows emphasized it. She looked like she was walking along with one arm bent as if she had it in an invisible sling. And when Audrey took note of that fact, she began looking for Inky, discovering that the windows, many of them going right down to the ground, revealed him following along behind her. He was using the opportunity to act as if he were stalking her, sticking close to the ground as he crept closer and closer to her reflection, which from that perspective made it seem as if she were completely oblivious about any immediate peril right behind her.

Inky sniggered quietly, so as not to be heard by her over the chatter of the crowds. But Audrey knew to listen for him now, and she watched askance as he stood up right behind her reflection and reached out as if to grab ahold of her. Audrey saw his sharp claw tips brush against her hair, although neither her reflection’s hair nor her own so much as shifted.

He couldn’t touch her, and yet he was doing his best to take advantage of the situation to play his own form of game. Audrey wasn’t sure whether to laugh or get angry. Especially since he wasn’t clawing at or trying to devour her image. Nothing too serious. Just something he clearly thought he could get away with at this moment.

Still, Audrey needed to do something, or else he might make this style of reflective game a habit. So, she turned, and now her mirror image seemed to be facing Inky from between his outstretched claws. Smiling, she reached up with her free hand, and following what the mirror showed, she stroked him between his horns. A few passersby shot odd looks at this woman who appeared to be touching thin air.

It was enough to stop Inky in mid-grab, however. “This is nice, isn't it?” Audrey said to him. And, really, it was kind of nice, even though she couldn’t feel anything. “We’re almost there.” Then she just turned around and walked on, while Inky continued to stand there frozen in place. She was also more than a little satisfied to see him hanging back by the time they reached the next windowed storefront, sauntering along rather than stalking.

Finally, they reached Tony’s Pizzeria. The name stretched over the front entrance in large wooden letters and had a cartoonish depiction of the owner, Big Tony, in a puffy white chef’s hat, and wearing an apron pulled tight around his bulging belly. Bendy’s eyes grew wide at the sight and at the warm glow coming from within the building. Inky paused beside her as well in the reflection, and for a moment Audrey was reminded of the family portrait now stuck onto their refrigerator back home.

I’ll need to get that framed, Audrey thought to herself, right before she opened the door. Warmth came flooding out to greet them, alongside the many pungent aromas of pizza with all its cheesiness and other toppings.

“Welcome, welcome!” Big Tony sang out from behind a narrow counter, behind which iron ovens crackled with heat as they cooked one savory pizza after the next. “Come in, take a seat, and join the fun.” He really didn’t look all that different from his depiction above the entryway, Audrey considered, just a bit more flushed from the exertion of working around hot ovens for several hours, and with silver starting to twirl its way through his dark hair and mustache.

Bendy was looking left to right at the stools along the front counter, and over at the booths along the walls, gazing upwards at the strings of multicolored lights twining around the rafters, and at the framed photographs covering the walls. Each photograph showed a different celebrity, some of them eating at the front counter, while others were simple headshots with autographs below. Music wafted out of a jukebox in one corner, and at the time they entered, “Shake, Rattle, and Roll,” sung by Bill Haley & His Comets, was echoing through the air.

There were several small groups of people munching pizza, sipping soft drinks and other beverages, and just generally hanging out. Thankfully, though, they were able to find a booth in a quiet corner towards the back. Bendy sat beside her, close to the wall, hugging her arm as if for comfort against all the other customers—albeit not with the same range of terror as he had shown during their first expedition towards Central Park.

Every table in Tony’s Pizzeria had the menu as part of its make-up, presumably because Big Tony stressed that his pizzeria had had the same choices for customers to depend upon since the place had first opened back in the 1950s.

Luckily for them, the napkin dispenser in-between the salt and pepper shakers had been polished just enough to allow Inky to peer out as Audrey directed both demons to the menu. As expected, Bendy looked more at the pictures of the pizzas, of which there were an ample number, rather than the actual words themselves—which Audrey suspected was because Bendy would have had difficulty reading what the menu said.

Yep, she thought, that was something they would need to address shortly.

“Ah, you’re looking at the New York-Style Pizza, loaded with toppings,” Audrey said, noting the picture that both Bendy and Inky seemed to have gravitated towards. In fact, it was the largest photograph on the table, depicting their most popular order—with tomato sauce, mozzarella cheese, oregano, garlic powder, fried chili flakes, grated Parmesan cheese, and a ton of pepperonis. Audrey could also tell the pizza itself was huge. “Is that the one you would like, Bendy?”

Bendy nodded his head enthusiastically.

“Inky?” Audrey asked.

“It’s fine,” Inky grumbled.

Around this time, their server, a pimply teen in a striped uniform, came to take their order. Audrey asked for the New York-Style Pizza, and then something else she was sure they would love—root beer floats.

As the server left, Inky remarked, “You like to say that name, don’t you, Audrey?”

“Your name, you mean?” Audrey said. “Yes, I do. Just like I enjoy saying Bendy’s name.” She patted the little guy between the horns, and he leaned against her.

“There are many souls here,” Inky noted, gazing past their table. “With music, and laughter, and warmth.”

Audrey smiled as she glanced around at their fellow customers. “Those are probably a few of the reasons why so many people come to Tony’s Pizzeria. They might swing by after work to relax, or to have some company for a while, or just to soak in the happy atmosphere. Some even make a special night of it out with their families.” At this last point, she tapped Bendy right where his nose would have been, and Bendy squeaked in happiness.

“Like the park.”

“Yes,” Audrey replied.

“Like the realm of pizza that you will make.”

Audrey stopped looking around. Inky was in a strange mood this evening, but unlike that morning where it had led to a panic attack, this time the Ink Demon seemed more thoughtful than panicked. She couldn’t detect any wheezing.

“Yes,” she said with confidence.

Their server came back with a huge plate loaded down with their New York-Style Pizza, and set down two large root beers, nearly fizzing over with dollops of vanilla ice cream on top and red and white-striped straws sticking out of them.

What happened next was a carnival of joyous gluttony by them. Even Audrey found that she was having more than her usual fill of pizza, albeit she hadn’t often tasted it before Bendy or Inky came into her life, and the combination of ingredients melted together was delicious.

Given their feasting, it was a wonder that Audrey still needed to request a box for their leftovers, but the delicious smells and upbeat tunes trailed after them as they exited the pizzeria. Bendy had fallen asleep after all that pizza, his arms wrapped around her neck as she strolled along the sidewalk. And when Audrey glanced at the windows of the storefronts, she found Inky walking beside her, on all fours.

They were the very picture of a family, heading home.

Chapter Text

Henry was sketching at his old desk up on the first floor. Or, at least, he would always think of the floor where he had begun so many Cycles that way. A thought implanted in his mind from so many such journeys had often led him to remark how much time he had wasted at the rickety wooden desk in a nook just off the main room, right beside a Bendy cutout—when he had never wasted any time there at all.

Now some flare of rebellion had him making the effort to use that desk for himself, as much as possible. Besides, Henry considered as he flicked to a fresh page in his sketchpad, it was a nice, quiet space where he could work while waiting for another letter from Audrey. Especially since she had promised to add something wonderful to Ink Harmony Park in her last letter, without specifying exactly what it happened to be.

“I want it to be a surprise,” Audrey had written. “But I will give you a hint—it’ll expand your culinary choices a bit.” She was working hard to give all of them something special. Anyone could admire her for that.

Sometimes, though, Henry had to admit he worried about her. Henry glanced at an old Bendy design effectively laminated onto the old desk, which he had never actually drawn. It depicted an innocent and happy version of the cartoon character. Nowadays, there was an actual Bendy living with Audrey who she described was a great deal like a child. A kind little imp who was curious about his new world.

Then there was the other one. The one Audrey had avoided talking about at first, and the one she had finally admitted to after Henry had prodded her about it several times. And the one Henry had then admonished her for omitting in her previous letters. The very thought still made his skin crawl.

“He’s getting much better,” Audrey had insisted. “He’s learning to be kinder. We’ve even nicknamed him ‘Inky’.”

Inky. Henry balled the fingers of his free hand into a fist, teeth clenched. To him, it would always be The Ink Demon. “Be careful, all right?” he’d replied. “The Ink Demon has a way of getting into your head for his own purposes.”

But Audrey was so sure she had nothing to fear from him anymore. Henry hoped for her sake that she was right. Meanwhile, the fingers of his other hand had stayed busy, guiding the pencil along, and as was so often the case when he got distracted, Henry glanced down to see what he had drawn.

The face of a young woman gazed up at him. She had her mother’s eyes, and his jawline. Thankfully, she didn’t have his chin hair. They had never met, but Henry still knew her name—Angie, short for Angelica. Their “Little Angel.”

Joey Drew had known his former business partner had a daughter named Angie, who was probably less than a toddler when, as faint memories bestowed upon him by Joey recalled, the Real Henry had shouted at Joey that his loved ones—Linda and his daughter Angie—were suffering because of his crushing schedule and the depression caused by watching his creations get claimed one after the other by the formidable “Joey Drew Studios.” So, he had to leave.

The woman in the sketch might have been what Angie looked like nowadays. Around the same age range as Audrey, although maybe she would have been somewhat older. Time had a way of slipping away from him here in the studio, and he didn’t even want to start trying to keep an account of the time lapse in the world beyond The Ink Machine.

Henry sighed, ready to lay his head on the desk and doze off for a while, when he heard a pronounced ding echo from the next room.

Ah, Audrey had written back at last.

Henry sauntered to the mailbox and pulled out the letter, which this time came alongside an extra object. A keyring with two keys attached clattered onto the floor, each one bearing the emblem of a pizza on the handle.

“What the—?” he muttered, opening the letter. It began promisingly enough. Audrey said she had sketched a pizza parlor by the name of “The Tasty Pizza” near the stone plaza in Ink Harmony Park. The keys sent along with the letter were for its front door and its back door.

Pizza. Of course, he had a vague memory—or maybe the most correct term was an understanding of pizza. It was a cheesy treat that for the Real Henry had probably been a luxurious treat during those rough economic times. Perhaps some of The Lost Ones could also even remember or knew the concept, and he could imagine they would come flocking to check out the establishment with as much enthusiasm as they had shown when Audrey had completed the park.

Something tickled at his mind as he thought about all those Lost Ones streaming into the area again, all heading towards the new building with its locked doors. The idea was enough to terrify any shopkeeper.

Wait a minute. Exactly how did Audrey plan to address that issue? Henry wondered. And, of course, that was the point when he came across the section of the letter where Audrey began, “Actually, Henry, I might have gotten a bit overenthusiastic about creating the pizza parlor…”

Minutes later, Henry was rushing down through a secret hatch pointed out to him by Allison and Tom, while replaying the conversation that had followed with Audrey by way of hastily scrawled messages back and forth. He had done his best to stay calm while talking through the situation, since it was clear Audrey was very apologetic about the whole thing.

Even so, Henry found himself telling Audrey on more than one occasion and in different forms, “You need to think carefully about the new locations you add to The Ink World and the way The Lost Ones will receive them. They’re going to swarm the place, trying to get inside. They might very well destroy parts of the park in their frenzy.”

“I’m so sorry, Henry!” Audrey had written back. “I should have thought more about the whole concept before I sketched anything. It’s all my fault.”

He had practically been able to see her struggling to hold back the tears, and for a moment, he found himself wondering what the Real Henry might have done if Angie had come to him in a similar state—admitting to a mistake she had made with every good intention and needing his help to fix it.

What would the Real Henry have done?

“Well, there’s no telling what he would have done. He’s not here, so I guess she’ll have to settle for me,” Henry had muttered to himself, right before he had told her that they would figure it out. After all, he’d written, they had gotten through much worse things than The Lost Ones wanting some pizza.

He had asked, however, if Audrey had stocked the shelves of the pizzeria.

Audrey had replied she had put in barrels which would produce an inky dough they could roll out for the pizza, alongside a cupboard and small refrigerator that, if they worked correctly, would allow them to retrieve various toppings, such as a lot of pepperonis. “Bendy and Inky wanted to make sure I included a whole crisper drawer dedicated to pepperonis alone,” Audrey had noted.

Well, at least they wouldn’t run out of supplies. “Sketch in some tables where The Lost Ones can eat outside as well,” Henry had said, before he had bid her farewell and hurried away.
Now he needed to reach Ink Harmony Park before things got too wild, but he also knew that he would need as many helping hands as possible.

Henry burst into the safehouse, hopeful that Allison, Tom, and Buddy would all be there.

Unfortunately, Buddy was the only one there. He looked up in surprise from where he’d been reading a comic section that looked like he had isolated it from a much larger newspaper, except it was likely the only part they had access to at all and was dominated by Bendy-themed comics. The cartoon wolf was there in the safehouse most of the time nowadays.

“Buddy, where did Allison and Tom go?” Henry asked, at which Buddy gave his usual wolfish smile, sprang up, and grabbed a note pinned on the wall near the stove.

Allison had written that she and Tom had gone to check out the Music Department and the Heavenly Toys sections of the studio, just to make sure that neither Sammy nor the other version of Alice Angel were making any plans they needed to worry about. They would be gone for the next several hours.

“Just great,” Henry said. “They had to leave at the worst possible time.” He knew it wasn’t their fault, of course. But it would have been so much easier with them around. Taking a deep breath, and then releasing it, he turned to Buddy. “Hey, how would you feel about helping me stem a food rush?”

Buddy’s eyes turned into stars, and his mouth formed a perfect O as the word “food” and the implications of it rushing anywhere sank into his mind. He nodded vigorously.

“All right, then,” Henry chuckled at the goofy display, “we have some work to do.”

It took them a while from there to reach Ink Harmony Park, and by then The Lost Ones were indeed swarming. They crowded the plaza and pressed right up against the building, although a few of them were taking advantage of the several sets of tables and chairs that Audrey must have quickly sketched out to accommodate them.

They were calling out to be let inside. A few of them were even calling to break through the windows.

Henry and Buddy stopped on the outskirts of the crowd. “It’s even worse than I thought,” Henry moaned as they stared at all the Lost Ones. And The Tasty Pizza did look like a nice, fair-sized pizzeria, with the name engraved over the doorway near the large icon of a pepperoni pizza and glass windows along the sides that revealed booths and other such delights. The lights were on as if to invite passersby into its warmth, and The Lost Ones were clearly just as hungry for that warmth as they were for the pizza itself.

Buddy whimpered, running his eyes over all The Lost Ones in their growing agitation at the locked doors.

Henry patted him on the shoulder, “Don’t worry, Buddy. We’ll figure something out.” It was the second time he had said that phrase, but he wasn’t sure how much he believed it. Even if the two of them did somehow push through the crowd, the moment Henry pulled out the keys, he was sure The Lost Ones would go berserk. “Who am I kidding?” he muttered at last. “We’d need a tank to get through this mess safely.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say you’d need a tank,” came a voice from beside him. Henry nearly fell over sideways, and if it hadn’t been for Buddy catching and then gently pushing him back upright, he probably would have been on the ground.

A Lost One stood regarding them. He wore rusty goggles on the top of his head, and a length of rope wound about his torso as if to grab and use it in a hurry, if needed. As Henry and Buddy stared back in amazement at a Lost One addressing them so coherently and outright jovially, this strange figure continued, “You’re Bobby’s friends, aren’t you? I never forget a face. At least,” he paused, rubbing his approximate chin, “I don’t remember forgetting a face. I’m sure I’d remember doing that.”

Feeling as if he were wading into unknown waters, and worried that saying the wrong thing could just trigger some burst of insanity from this Lost One, Henry answered, “No offense, but I think you’re mistaken. We don’t know anyone named Bobby.”

“Oh, no, no,” The Lost One insisted. “I couldn’t be mistaken. You know her. You know, Bobby! Glowing yellow eyes, short hair, wore a sweater. True, there was another name she had. Something that I didn’t think suited her…”

“Was it ‘Audrey?’ by any chance?” Henry asked.

A portion of the ink on The Lost One’s face tugged upwards into what was most likely a smile. “Ah, yes! Audrey! Then I changed her name to Bobby. Much better, don’t you think?”

“Who are you?” Henry said, to avoid getting into too far onto a topic that clearly wouldn’t help them with their current predicament.

“My name is Porter,” The Lost One declared. “You should remember me. I remember you. We stood together on the catwalk at The End of the last Cycle.”

This remark startled Henry, and now that Porter mentioned it, he did seem to remember a Lost One beside him as Audrey, fused with The Ink Demon, had stormed into the room that had held the film reel with The End on it—which she had used to reset the Cycle and wipe away the last traces of Wilson and his Keepers. Which meant that Porter probably recalled the last Cycle just like him, Allison, and Tom.

“Nice to meet you, hmm, Porter.” Henry rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “I’m Henry, and this is Buddy.”

“Hmm. Buddy sounds like Bobby, so I think it suits you.” Porter studied Buddy for a moment, then nodded as if to reconfirm his suspicious. “As for Henry…” He paused, and Henry found that he was genuinely curious what he would respond. After all, maybe there really was a name that fit him better, as the inky duplicate of a man who he had never been and could never become. However, at long last Porter shook his head, “Nope, you are definitely Henry,” he declared. “No one I have ever come across is as Henry as you.”

While Henry tried to absorb the implications of this statement, Porter continued, “Here, since you’re Bobby’s friends, let me give you something special to help you out.” He stepped forward, laid a hand on the side of each of their heads, and closed his eyes.

A bright glow filled Henry’s vision, and a jolt of power such as he had never known shuddered through him, on the heels of which came the knowledge that he could now “flow” through the air for short distances. It was an ability Buddy had acquired as well, and the cartoon wolf flexed his fingers and checked himself over as if he expected to see a new appendage hanging off him somewhere.

Henry was dumbfounded. “How did you do that?”

“Oh, it’s just a thing a few of us Lost Ones can do,” Porter replied, and left it at that.

“Well, I am grateful for it,” Henry admitted, “but unless it can somehow take us right into the building, we’re still in trouble.” Because he knew, in the same peculiar way that he knew how to pull off the flowing technique, that at best they could reach the locked doors—right in front of the crush of other Lost Ones.

Porter scratched his chin. “You know what, Henry? You are right!” Then he turned, stuck two inky fingers in the ooze that composed his mouth, and whistled.

The ground rumbled. Nearby trees crackled slightly as something massive bent them a bit to either side, drawing closer. Buddy ducked behind Henry, although most of him was still visible, as the figure came into sight before them—the largest, inkiest Lost One that Henry had ever witnessed, with bit of wood and other things sticking out of his bulky form. His face was like a Searcher’s, without noticeable pupils but just the sunken sockets that indicated eyes, and alongside a similar impression that portrayed a big mouth.

“Meet Big Steve,” Porter said, sounding gleeful. He approached the bulky Lost One and patted him on the shoulder without fear, even though it looked like Big Steve, as such, could easily smash him into an inky puddle with one closed fist. Glimpsing their expressions, Porter assured them, “Don’t worry, he may seem frightening, but he’s really a big softie.”

Henry was a bit dubious about that statement.

Porter turned to the new arrival. “Hey, Big Steve, you remember Bobby, right?”

Big Steve gave a low moan and cocked his head to one side, as if in deep concentration.

“Oh, you know, Bobby. The nice young lady you brought your favorite treat from the Little Devil’s Lounge.”

At this, Big Steve gently inclined his head and let off a deep moan that Henry guess meant the colossus knew who Porter was describing.

“Now Bobby has done you a good turn, Big Steve, just as she did for me,” Porter went on, “and it’s only fair that we repay the favor.” From there, he went onto explain the need for crowd control to protect the building that Bobby (A.K.A. Audrey) had worked so hard to create for everyone.

Big Steve understood Porter—or at least he understood enough to go about his task—and Henry had to admit Big Steve had an effective strategy for dealing with the masses. Essentially, he ploughed through them, and fellow Lost Ones had to get out of his way quickly or be trampled underfoot. But all the ones Henry observed wisely chose the former.

Once a large enough area had been cleared, Henry and Buddy flowed over to the front door and were able to enter The Tasty Pizza, while Big Steve remained outside to guard the entryway. Presumably, Porter then went to secure the back door because none of the Lost Ones banged on or tried to get in through there.

The Tasty Pizza was a nice little place. Henry gazed around at the booths, the jukebox in the corner, and the walls covered in pictures—although these depicted places from around The Ink World. Mostly the nicer-looking spots. “Well, I guess we’d better get started, then,” Henry murmured, only to find that Buddy had already followed his keen nose to the barrel of dough and the other ingredients. The cartoon wolf began pulling things out with great care, which made sense. Despite his love of gobbling down whatever nourishment he could come across, Buddy really did seem to have a passion for pizza for its own sake.

Henry found a puffy white chef’s hat hanging by a peg on the wall, right beside an apron. He put on the hat and gave Buddy the apron, then set about showing him how to assemble a pepperoni pizza. The knowledge of how to do it had also come from Joey Drew, but in that moment, as Henry showed Buddy how to roll out the dough, Henry decided it didn’t mean he couldn’t make use of that knowledge for the benefit of his companions and his own self.

On a similar note, Henry knew he would need to discover what other abilities The Lost Ones had to impart. Receiving the ability to flow from Porter had been a remarkable twist that he just hadn't expected. Maybe they might even start to make a bit more sense, and he might find others like Porter with whom he could hold actual conversations.

Once pizzas started to emerge from the ovens, henry was able to tell Big Steve to let in a couple of Lost Ones at a time. And, of course, to get past Big Steve, they needed to stay on their behavior. Anyone who became too rowdy got unceremoniously grabbed by the large Lost One, hurled over the heads of everyone else, and thus banished to the back of the group. As such, before too long, The Lost Ones entering The Tasty Pizza failed to give them any trouble. They were more interested in sampling the pizza and would cry out their praises for this delicious offering served to them.

Hours passed in this manner, and during said period, Henry and Buddy managed to put together a wide assortment of pizzas for The Lost Ones using the bountiful toppings and other ingredients at their disposal. It was a lot of work, though. Eventually, Henry had to take a break, but Buddy pressed onwards with as much energy and excitement as when they had started the whole undertaking. And Henry watched him with a growing smile, since it was obvious that Buddy loved what he was doing. He even slurped down a few pizzas made for himself now and then.

At long last the crush of Lost Ones thinned, and Henry suggested that they close the pizza parlor for the rest of the day. Buddy, however, looked reluctant to turn the makeshift sign Henry had quickly made for the front door to a Closed position—and that settled something in Henry’s mind. He took off the chef’s hat and placed it on Buddy’s head. “Here, Buddy,” he said. “I think you may have just found your calling.” Buddy appeared a bit confused until Henry pulled out the keys and placed them in the wolf’s hand. “I’d say The Tasty Pizza has found its rightful owner. Take good care of it, all right?”

Buddy’s eyes widened at the keys, and as what Henry had said sunk in. He nodded so hard that his wolfish ears flopped about. And then Buddy treated all his helpers—Henry, Big Steve, and Porter—to the pizza they had worked so hard to protect.

Eventually, Henry prepared to head back to the safehouse, but Buddy indicated he wished to stick around his new pizza parlor for a while longer. Henry worried a bit about this thought at first, since a stroll from Ink Harmony Park to the safehouse alone could be dangerous—and Henry still had the nightmares about the twisted version of Alice Angel coming upon him—until another Lost One named Heidi knocked on the door.

Audrey had apparently played a rousing game of hide-and-seek with this Lost One at some point, and now she wished to help as well by sharing a technique with Henry and Buddy, just as Porter had. This technique would allow them to travel between various inky fountains, which made it much faster and easier for them both to travel back to the safehouse.

Still shaking his head in wonder at the whole thing, Henry asked for some takeout—a large pepperoni pizza placed into a box—to carry away with him. It certainly surprised and amazed Allison and Tom when they returned from their mission at long last.

Later, Henry traveled up to the first floor to tell Audrey everything that had happened, and she thanked him profusely for his help.

“Next time, we’ll talk about what you want to build,” Henry advised her.

“Deal,” Audrey replied.

Henry jotted down, “You have an interesting way of making friends with the most unusual and unexpected individuals.”

“That… was a compliment, right?”

Henry smiled. “The highest,” he wrote. “It might just make all the difference in changing The Ink World into a better place to live.” He once again considering the wondrous day he’d been through, and then finished up with a phrase that he hoped the Henry in the Real World had told Angie as well, “I’m proud of you.”

A long pause followed.

Finally, “Thanks, Henry. You’re great too.”

Around Henry on that first floor, it was as if he could feel the atmosphere grow calmer and cozier. The Ink stopped groaning and banging through the pipes in the walls, and he could have sworn it stopped seeping out so much from between the cracks. Just like wounds that were healing.

Instead, The Ink flowed along with a gentle sigh.

Chapter Text

According to Henry, Buddy continued to thrive as the owner and main chef at The Tasty Pizza. Lost Ones streamed into his establishment for various types of pizza throughout the day. Allison and Tom had swung by to sample his delicacies, and they might have offered to lend a hand—except that Heidi was already lending one, and the two of them energetically tended to all their customers.

Big Steve had taken to patrolling Ink Harmony Park just like a formidable security guard. It was obvious he preferred pizza to the hearty snack Audrey had obtained for him elsewhere in the studio, and he struck up an amiable friendship with Buddy as a fellow food lover. His mere presence around Ink Harmony Park seemed to keep the other Lost Ones on their best behavior.

Considering Big Steve’s natural talent for keeping order, Henry had agreed right away when Audrey had suggested building a small station near The Tasty Pizza where Big Steve could relax in-between his rounds—with a sign above its archway that read, “Ink Harmony Police Station.” She had even sketched in a badge that Big Steve now proudly wore on his chest and a little cap to set atop his head.

As for Porter, he had slipped away soon after the successful opening of the pizzeria, but he had left a note requesting that Bobby (AKA Audrey) think up a shop suitable for him. He wanted to become a shopkeeper because, in his words, “It looked like fun.”

Audrey knew she would need to give the right business for Porter a great deal of consideration, and run her thoughts for it by Henry, but at least Ink Harmony Park was coming together. Her father’s sketchbook was filling with fresh ideas, and it felt wonderful to help nurture those possibilities.

Henry told her to take things slowly. “You’re off to a great start,” he wrote one evening. “A park, pizza parlor, and police station are more than anyone here could have ever dreamed of having. I certainly would never have dreamed it could ever happen. But, Audrey, make sure you don’t take on more than you can handle at once.”

“Don’t worry, Henry, I’m fine,” Audrey had replied, then added, “What do you think about a general store for Porter?” Their conversation had continued from there late into the night.

Aside from possible new additions to Ink Harmony Park, and refurbishments to the wider city nearby, there were of course many things Audrey needed to keep up with in the Real World. Chief among them was helping Bendy to improve his reading and writing skills, since it turned out their names had likely been the most the cartoonish imp had ever committed to paper.

Bendy latched onto the whole endeavor with great enthusiasm. Audrey gave him a notebook and a pen to use when practicing. “Inky has a lot he has to say,” she told him, stroking the little guy between his horns, “but I know you have a lot you would like to share too.”

She jotted down a few simple phrases, and it gave her great joy to watch him carefully write “Good morning, Audrey” and present it to her at breakfast the next morning. From there, he became so fond of holding up notebook pages that read “Hi!” and “How are you?” that Inky started to get irritated—specifically when Bendy would write things during their checkers matches like “King me!”

“Stop scribbling those meaningless lines and play already,” Inky growled. “It is not like they will actually benefit you anyway.”

Audrey overhead this complaint just as she got back home from work one evening, and she marched right over to the mirror. “Learning to write and read is important,” she scolded. “It will open up a whole new world for Bendy.”

“Please.” Sarcasm rippled off the word, and then quivered in the ones that followed as Inky grumbled, “We are already in a new world. Why should we learn about another one?”

Audrey sighed. “It’s just an expression. I mean that if Bendy learns how to read and write, he’ll be able to do and access more. He’ll will be able to express himself in another way.” Then a thought occurred to her. “Hmm. Inky? Can you read or write?”

Inky snorted. “I can read everything I need to read.”

“What does that mean?”

“Food. Machine. Ink. Monster.” Inky listed them off as if mentally ticking each one off on his claws. “Lost Ones. Demon.” He paused, and a snarl rose in his throat as he spat out, “Gent.”

“Right.” Audrey crossed her arms. “You should learn to read as well.” She avoided insisting he should write, mostly because it would be difficult considering his perspective. And she made this declaration with a great deal of confidence, already sure everything would fall into place easily enough. After all, it was far less likely to cause the type of trouble that Henry and Buddy had helped to avert in Ink Harmony Park.

In some ways, the lessons for Bendy progressed easily enough. Audrey helped him to write out the alphabet and posted it on the wall for his reference, and Bendy spent a great deal of time memorizing these letters—although he constantly seemed to mix up the uppercase and lowercase versions of the letters, which clearly frustrated him whenever Audrey would point it out. It also didn’t help that Inky continued to huff at the whole thing and refused to actively participate.

There was another issue as well. One of her initial thoughts was using Fluffy the Bunny to help Bendy to read, but as she sat him on her lap and ran her fingers over the words, she couldn’t be sure how well he was learning to sound out each word, rather than just memorizing certain ones like “Fluffy,” “Bunny,” and “Friends.”

Audrey had a faint memory from the time with her father, in which he had pointed to words in a book—very likely the same Fluffy the Bunny book that Bendy now adored—and had asked her sound them out so he could hear her. He would correct each mispronunciation as she read them herself.

Bendy didn’t speak; as far as Audrey understood, he simply didn’t possess that ability.

Meanwhile, Inky could speak but refused to read on principle, especially Fluffy the Bunny. “It is a ridiculous story. Besides, what is the point?” he would grumble, but Audrey did notice that he would at least listen without interrupting as she went over what lessons she gave. It would appear in the mirror as if he were leaning his chin on the palm of one claw, his elbow bent and resting on some unknown surface, feigning indifference. However, Audrey noticed him turn his head slightly towards them from time to time.

Knowing Inky was at least somewhat engaged in the lessons made Audrey feel a bit better, and Bendy did seem able to understand most of Fluffy the Bunny over the course of many repetitions, with Audrey pointing out certain words and phrases. Even so, she wasn’t sure how well she was doing as a teacher.

These concerns swirled in her mind, joined by the already numerous options to explore for The Ink World, and she had increasing trouble pushing them aside at work—which was a problem given the fact they were working on the new cartoon about checkers now. Audrey began to stay later in the evenings to animate her usual quota of drawings.

She could handle it, though. She could always handle it. She had to.

Audrey repeated such things to herself like a mantra, growing so engrossed in just pushing forward that she didn’t even realize it when Marge called to her, walked up behind her, and tapped her on the shoulder. She fell right out of her chair.

“Oh, my goodness, Audrey, are you okay?” Marge reached over as if to help her up, but Audrey hurried to do it herself.

She could handle it. “Yes, just fine,” Audrey replied. “Sorry, my mind was elsewhere.” Goodness, she felt tired. “I’m fine.”

“If you say so…” Marge didn’t sound convinced.

“Say, Marge?”

“Hmm?”

“How would you help a child to practice their writing skills?” Audrey was as genuinely curious about the answer as she was eager to get Marge onto another topic aside from her falling out of her chair.

It worked. Marge furrowed her brows in thought. “Well, when I was little, I can remember my mom turning writing into a game. We would exchange notes almost like secret messages, and she would ask me to put labels on things around the house—all sorts of fun activities. It was so much fun that I didn’t realize how much I was learning.”

Audrey wondered vaguely if her father had ever done anything like that for her, aside from having her read books aloud to him. It was one of those moments lost in childhood memories. “Well, how about getting a child interested in reading, in general?”

Marge opened her mouth, but another voice spoke out first. “I’d get them books that would catch their interest.” It was Andrew, leaning against the doorframe into her office. Audrey felt the breath catch in her throat.

“You were eavesdropping,” Marge accused, fingers balling into fists at her sides.

“You don’t give me enough credit, Marge,” Andrew replied, flashing her a grin. “I just happened to be passing by and overheard your lovely voice.” After watching Marge silently fume for a few seconds, he turned to Audrey. “But what I said holds true. If kids see a book they like, something that makes them curious, they’ll get hooked. Trust me.”

Audrey wasn’t sure what to say, but thankfully Andrew continued before the awkwardness could go on for too long, “You should go and check out Cohen’s Books. It’s only two blocks from here.” Then he gave them a wave and walked off.

“’Just happened to be passing by’, my foot,” Marge huffed. “Andrew went out of his way to eavesdrop on our conversation.”

While Marge complained about nosy co-workers, Audrey sunk into her own little world again, pinched by anxiety. Andrew knew she was asking questions about children. But no, just asking questions about a child didn’t mean anyone would discover Bendy, or anything of the kind.

As if guessing at her thoughts, at least partially, Marge said, “Oh, don’t worry, Audrey. Andrew wouldn’t say anything even if he did suspect you had taken in a kid. I’ve known him since high school. He fancies himself as a bit of a rogue sometimes, but he’s all right. He isn’t the kind of person to gossip—although he does like to advertise his uncle’s bookshop whenever possible.”

What Marge said helped to settle her nerves, at least a little bit, and she had to admit being surprised that Andrew and Marge had known each other for a while. She wondered absently who had joined Archgate Films first, or whether they had followed one another there.

Still, going to a bookshop sounded like a good idea, and so during their afternoon break, she forwent lunch to rush over the two blocks to the bookshop. It featured a wide glass storefront that would have excited Inky with its potential, and as she opened the door and a small bell jingled overhead, the distinct aroma of printed pages and ink wafted over to greet her like a contented cat.

“Welcome to Cohen’s Books.” The manager behind the front counter nodded to her. He bore a definite resemblance to Andrew, albeit he had more pronounced sideburns, his short brown hair was smoothed down and streaked with silver, and he wore glasses that failed to hide the fact that he had crow’s feet near his eyes. “How can I help you?”

What happened next was an inspired conversation on the nature of getting children to read that buoyed Audrey’s spirits throughout the rest of the workday. And that evening, Audrey came home weighed down by a sizable paper bag in addition to the usual bag she brought each day to work.

Bendy came over to greet her with his notebook, which he held up to a page that read, “Welcome home, Audrey.”

“I see you’re finally back,” Inky grunted.

“Glad you see both of you too,” Audrey replied, shrugging off her work bag. “I’ve got a surprise for you.” She set the other bag down on the table.

Inky, faster to judge the shapes that filled the bag, grumbled, “You brought books.”

“Not just any books,” Audrey dug around in the bag and pulled out a handful of slim picture books, setting these down in front of Bendy, whose eyes instantly widened in growing wonder and excitement. “It turns out Fluffy the Bunny is a whole series,” she said as Bendy handled each new volume like a sacred object, flipping through the glossy pages with great care. “We’ll need to read them together a bit later.”

Bendy nodded his head vigorously.

Inky snorted at this display, until Audrey laid another picture book in clear view of the mirror. “What’s that?” he asked. “What is that creature on the cover?”

“Oh, this book is entitled, 'Berserk the Monster’, and the spiky creature on the cover is ‘Berserk.’ He lives in a sewer and pulls pranks on a whole town of people,” Audrey said carefully, doing her best to sound disinterested in his reaction. “He’s apparently a master at it.”

Inky paused, staring at the closed book, as Audrey turned to Bendy, who was hugging his new books and had an enormous grin on his face. “Oh yes, I also have a few word games that I think you will love playing.”

“A game?” Inky rasped, glancing away from the book. “A game with words?”

“Exactly,” Audrey said, keeping her attention on Bendy. “I told you that a whole new world would open for you, and that means you get to play word games as well. Get out your notebook.” She had bought a fresh one for herself from Cohen’s Bookshop, and she wrote on the first page of it, “Hi, Bendy. Are you ready to play?”

Bendy wrote, “Yes, Audrey.”

Audrey chuckled. “Good job,” she penned.

To which Bendy wrote, in reply, “Thank you.”

“What are you doing?” Inky sounded agitated. Then, finally, “What are you writing?”

“We’re just starting our word game,” Audrey said, then wrote, “Bendy, what is a word that begins with the letter ‘F?’”

Bendy studied the question for a several moments, and then appeared to take several more moments to consider his answer while Audrey patiently waited.

At last, he set pen to paper. “Fluffy,” he wrote.

“Good!” Audrey responded in writing. They exchanged such pleased smiles that it made Inky growl low in his throat. Then, Audrey penned, “What word begins with a ‘B?’” and made sure her notebook was in full view of the mirror.

Another lengthy pause followed as Bendy read the question and thought about his response. Meanwhile, Inky muttered something that, if Audrey wasn’t mistaken, sounded along the lines of, “Your name starts with a B, you—” followed by more indiscernible grumbles.

Bendy jotted down, “Bunny!”

Inky snarled, but Audrey kept her eyes averted. She stayed focused on Bendy, and this time asked, “What word begins with an ‘I?’”

As with the first two questions, Bendy took his time in thinking about his reply, which only further irritated Inky.

“It’s so obvious,” Inky muttered a bit louder and more distinctly this time.

Bendy’s eyes widened as an idea came to mind. “I,” he wrote.

That response surprised Audrey, and it was also correct. “Good job!” she wrote, impressed. “You are very smart, Bendy.”

Bendy clapped his hands together, squeaking in laughter.

“He should have said ‘Ink,’” Inky snapped. “That is the better answer.”

Audrey felt her own smile widen a bit, although she tried to hide it. Because what Mr. Cohen had told her about getting children to read was true. She had given the bookshop owner the vague impression that she had two young children at home, who were close siblings, but that one of them was resistant to the idea of reading. And Mr. Cohen had asked if one of those siblings loved games and was competitive, and then had made a few recommendations.

Inky snapping out a response felt like confirmation that what Mr. Cohen had told her would work. In addition, Audrey felt a small swell of satisfaction at the proof that Inky had been paying more attention than he had let on to the lessons.

“You would always offer answers as well,” Audrey suggested.

Inky snorted. “I cannot write.”

“You can just say it after reading the questions. Perhaps you’ll be as good at this game as Bendy.”

Inky glared at Bendy. “It would be too easy,” he grunted.

Bendy frowned, his brow furrowed. He grabbed his notebook and scribbled out, “No. Too hard for Inky,” which he held up to the mirror with a determined expression.

He had never effectively retorted to one of Inky’s many criticisms of him, and the fact he dared to do so now clearly shocked Inky. However, shock quickly gave way to annoyance. “You think you are smarter than me?” Inky snarled.

Bendy began to write a response, which Audrey could already tell would begin with a capital ‘Y,’ and so she interrupted, “Okay, let’s play, and we’ll see what happens.”

So, their game got underway. Audrey had never seen the two demons compete against each other so fiercely, even during their checkers matches. The two of them would read each question and rush to be the first to come up with an answer.

Audrey was careful to think about the vocabulary they had gone over, and when she finally brought the word game to a close, she declared they had tied—to prevent further turbulence between them. And before either side could linger too long on the results, she said, “Well, maybe we should read some of our new books.”

“Read this book first,” Inky instantly rumbled. He pointed one claw at Berserk the Monster. When he noticed the smile Audrey could no longer conceal creeping across her face, he grumbled, “I just want to see what pranks this monster Berserk pulls, and how he terrorizes the town of people.”

Bendy, of course, also held up his chosen book, “Fluffy the Bunny: The Lost Cave,” to indicate that he wanted to hear Audrey read it as well. This enthusiasm for books was enough to relieve a bit of the exhaustion Audrey had been feeling for a while now, and she sat down to read one book after the other to Bendy and Inky.

Afterwards, Audrey celebrated a job well done as she flopped into bed. She had even already decided that on her next day off, which was only a few days away, she would take Bendy and Inky on a trip to visit a place filled with more books than they had likely ever imagined it was possible to fit into one place.

She smiled at the thought of it.

Chapter Text

Following many lengthy discussions with Henry on the matter, Audrey added “Porter’s General Store” to Ink Harmony Park, basing the design on the layout of Mr. Cohen’s bookshop. She set the business on the other side of the police station and gave it an inventory that included items meant to benefit travelers traversing The Ink World, such as ropes, key cards, and tool kits. There were even vending machines set along one wall to exchange slugs for snacks.

Porter reportedly loved it, although he also tended to wander off and leave the store in Heidi’s hands—when she wasn’t busy helping Buddy—and once, when he happened to notice him coming, in Henry’s care as well. “Tell Bobby I’m off to get more stock,” Porter had called over his shoulder, right before disappearing into an ink fountain.

Overall, though, it was a success and certainly less riotous of an opening than that for The Tasty Pizza.

“You should be proud, having accomplished so much so quickly,” Henry wrote during their sketchbook conversation later the same evening. "Why not take time for a well-deserved break?”

“I have a day off soon,” Audrey replied, “which I’ll use to bring Bendy and Inky to the library. They’re going to love it.”

“Well, going to the library should be restful. In the meantime, there is something I should tell you.”

Sensing another warning on the way about taking things slow, Audrey wrote, “Henry, I’m fine. I can handle it.” An extensive pause followed that she was sure meant Henry was completing a lengthier version of the dreaded warning. So, she quickly scribbled, “It’s been a long day. I’d better to get to bed. Goodnight, Henry.” She closed the sketchbook immediately to prevent glimpsing any further messages.

Audrey knew Henry meant well. Even so, a hint of irritation shuddered through her. She had overexerted herself many times in the past. Working as an animator had always demanded a great deal of time, patience, and effort. Being entrusted by her father The Ink World was a new and big responsibility, and its residents desperately need as much help as they could get, as soon as possible, after decades of nightmarish conditions. Additionally, both Bendy and Inky were her family and depended on her; she couldn’t let them down.

If she couldn’t handle it all…

She hated to let anyone down.

Two more days.

There were only two more days until her next official day off. Audrey could make it. Even Henry had had to admit a trip to the library would offer a nice respite, and then afterwards they could all rest at home. She flopped into bed, eager for the energy a few hours’ rest would bestow on her.

However, when the alarm on her bedside table rang out and woke her, Audrey felt as if her mind was in a fog. Her body ached, and for some reason she felt unaccountably warm—like someone had turned the nonexistent thermostat in the apartment up past 80 degrees. Just getting out of bed was a struggle, and straightening the sheets and covers was too much trouble, so she left them unmade.

She managed to get dressed, hobbled out of the bedroom, and only then realized that not only was her mind in a fog but her vision was now tinted—a pale, yellowish hue. Like an eroding photograph.

Like The Ink World.

Her heart probably skipped a few beats.

Bendy ran to greet her, his notebook upheld to a page with the words “Good Morning, Audrey!!!” clear in huge letters. He gave her a huge grin—and then he looked at her, really looked at her, and the grin deflated. His pie-cut pupils shrank, and he nearly dropped his notebook.

Hoping to calm him, Audrey managed a weak smile. “Good morning, Bendy,” she croaked out. Even she could tell her voice sounded horrible, but she had to push on for his sake. So, she cleared her throat and said in a slightly better tone, “How about I make us some scrambled eggs for breakfast?”

Audrey made her way towards the stove, pausing just long enough to say, “Good morning, Inky,” and glance in his direction. Inky had gone silent. Deadly silent and still—aside from what sounded like faint, strangled, gurgling noises. He seemed to have drawn closer to the mirror than usual, and his claws now appeared to be up against the surface of the glass, as if he were gripping the frame from the other side.

Oh, that didn’t bode well. Audrey turned and found Bendy had taken the opportunity to beat her to the stove. He had pulled over a stool, so he could reach the burners easier and cook properly. Then he grabbed his notebook, wrote something down, and presented it to her.

Audrey read the message. “Ah, I see. You want to make breakfast this morning?”

Bendy nodded hurriedly.

“Okay, then. I’ll just get a cup of coffee.” She moved towards the pot, filled with freshly brewed caffeine, but Bendy once again hurried to the spot first. He gave her a nervous little smile. As he started to write out another message, Audrey said, “Aww, I appreciate you want to take full charge of preparing our breakfast today, little guy, but I’m really—”

“Sit down!” Inky roared, with such ferocity that Audrey jumped in shock and Bendy winced. But she decided to avoid any further argument about the matter, opting instead to plop into her usual chair at the kitchen table. Behind her, Audrey thought she heard Bendy heave a sigh of relief before there came the sounds of opening cupboards and coffee getting poured.

Once Bendy had put the steaming coffee mug onto the table and hurried off to crack some eggs into a pan, Audrey dared a glance at the mirror again. Inky looked as if he were digging the tips of his claws into the glass now, and those gurgling sounds were louder now, intermingled with growls.

“You look worse than usual, Audrey,” Inky rasped. “What is wrong with you?”

Audrey took a sip of coffee. It tasted strange, even though she knew Bendy had used the same grounds to brew it as he had for several previous pots. A little bit like ink. The idea made her push the drink off to one side. “I’m just a little tired, Inky. I’m fine.”

“Your eyes are glowing.”

“What?”

Inky moved off to one side, enough to expose Audrey’s reflection, which she could see did indeed now have glowing yellow eyes. The room spun a bit, and Audrey looked away. “Maybe I’ve just strained my eyes more than usual,” she murmured. “It could be a kind of reaction.” That possibility sounded unconvincing, and Audrey could tell Inky didn’t believe her.

A certain ease returned when Bendy set out her allotment of scrambled eggs, and apparently a slightly burnt piece of toast she hadn’t even been realized he had stuck in the toaster, before taking his own seat. But he seemed less focused on his own breakfast than he was on her.

Bendy flipped to a new page in his notebook and wrote, “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine, Bendy,” Audrey insisted. “Go on, you should eat your eggs and toast before they get cold.” She took a bite of her scrambled eggs and was somewhat relieved when they tasted wholly of eggs and nothing like the ink she had detected in the coffee. But the heat, and the way the room kept shifting slightly at the edges of her vision, bothered her. Everything was still that same yellowish tint, although now she knew why—because somehow her glowing eyes from her time spent in The Ink World had returned.

Maybe if she put on sunglasses, no one at work would notice.

She put down her spoon and instead focused on rubbing her temples, trying to ease the pressure that seemed to be building there. Just like ink about to burst from pipes.

Why was she thinking so much in terms of ink? She needed to turn her thoughts to other things. She needed to regain some normalcy.

What Audrey needed, she decided right then and there, was to leave for work.

Audrey pushed back her chair and stood up. “Well, I should probably get to Archgate Films a bit earlier than usual today. After all, there is a lot to get done on the latest feature.” Yes, she could do it. She could push through, even with Bendy staring at her in concern and Inky growling from the mirror. “Thank you for making breakfast, Bendy,” she said, moving to grab her workbag. “I’ll try to be back early, and soon I’ll have another great surprise for both of you.”

She went towards the door.

Audrey heard the hurried patter of little shoes across the carpet behind her and felt a tug as Bendy grabbed her by the edge of her sweater. When she turned to look down at him, he was holding up his sketchbook.

“Don’t go,” he’d written. “There is something wrong with you.”

“It’s all right, Bendy,” Audrey said, turning away. “I can handle—”

At this moment, Bendy reached for her hand to stop her. She felt his gloved fingertips slip along hers. Then came the shock. A jolt of power between their hands startling enough to make Bendy take a step back and glance up at her in surprise, while reverberations from the same jolt traveled up her arm. It was just a bit stronger than a normal static shock, but it gave Audrey instant flashbacks to the first time she had met Bendy—of reaching out to him and accidentally scaring him off.

“Oh, my goodness, Bendy,” Audrey said, kneeling before him with the intention of checking out his hand, “I’m so sorry! Are you—”

The room tilted sideways, and Audrey only became aware of what was happening seconds later when she’d fallen over onto her side. She saw Bendy’s eyes shrink even further than they had when she had first emerged from their shared bedroom, and she was aware of him dropping his notebook and rushing to her, making horrified squeaking noises. This sight was only matched by a sudden roar of “Audrey!!!” that echoed through the apartment, and she glimpsed Inky clawing at the mirror as if he were trying to force his way through the glass.

What happened next was something she would never be able to prove really took place due to her muddled state. As consciousness slipped away from her, and darkness swept in, Audrey could almost swear that between Inky’s roaring and Bendy’s squeaking she could hear another voice echoing in her head. A voice not as squeaky as Bendy’s or as deep and rasping as Inky’s. A voice that kept crying out her name in a frenzy of terror.

Then the darkness claimed her at last.

***

Audrey was running through all-too-familiar hallways, past old cartoon posters for Bendy the Dancing Demon, Alice Angel, or Boris the Wolf. She had the impression she had been running for a while, but she stopped upon reaching an alcove that had a locker, a charging station for a Gent pipe, and a full-length mirror.

It couldn’t be. She couldn’t really be back in The Ink World, could she?

Audrey stepped in front of the mirror and gasped, even though she had half expected the sight that greeted her glowing eyes. Ink oozed from her shortened, darkened hair and down her sweater, and her hands and arms… were encased in ink, with a whorl of golden ink on her left hand. She reached out and touched her reflection for a moment, then backed away.

“No, no, no, no,” she whispered. “This whole thing must be a dream. Just a dream.” Or a nightmare, a part of her added. It was strange, because Audrey could distinctly remember having felt terrible that morning, and then collapsing in her apartment near Bendy and Inky.

Oh no. Bendy had been scared. Even Inky had appeared distressed by the situation. They hadn’t known what was happening.

Audrey backed into a wall, an inky hand to her head. Then again, she hadn’t completely known what was happening, and she still didn’t. She slid to a sitting position on the wooden floor, hugged her knees, and pushed her face against them as if to block out the surroundings.

If she stayed this way long enough, perhaps this nightmare would end. Maybe she would wake up any moment now back home and comfort Bendy and Inky.

And Audrey did stay that way for a while, trying to gather her thoughts, and worried that this dream felt a little too real, when she heard irregular footsteps from further up the corridor. It sounded as if someone were limping. Audrey heard something dripping, and each step had this, well, wet, quality to it. Like the individual had stepped in something, but she suspected something a lot more serious instead.

Someone needed help.

Audrey got up, and cautiously headed towards the footfalls. She turned a corner in the corridor and found a line of inky shoe prints on the floor. Nothing like what The Lost Ones would leave in their wake. As she followed them, she considered they weren’t like what a regular human would create as well, so not like Henry’s footprints. They had fully visible soles, rather than any hints of a heel, so they weren’t like Allison’s. They were too small to come from Tom or Buddy.

Which brought her thoughts to one chilling possibility.

Audrey turned another corner, and there, in the distance, was what looked from the back like Bendy as she had first seen him. He was hobbling along, dripping ink, and she watched as the imp turned at an intersection of hallways to the left.

“Wait, Bendy!” Audrey called, giving chase. Here, at last, was a familiar face. Except that when she turned left, it was to a dead end, with an inky dark opening in the corner. The inky footprints led right into it.

She could remember that one of her first lessons upon entering the studio had been to stay away from anyplace that was too dark. A room without any foreseeable light might a room where hostile Lost Ones, Searchers, and other creatures might swarm upon her mercilessly and drag her into The Dark Puddles.

It could be a trap. But Bendy could also be in there, hiding as he had done when he had felt so vulnerable and alone. So, Audrey took a deep breath, and stepped into the chilly darkness—surprised when she emerged into a room, where a Bendy cutout stood with its characteristic grin.

Audrey sighed and took in the rest of the room, finding lamps hung on the walls, several old cartoon posters (some more faded than others), and a low table with a cushion. As she continued to look around, she realized the Bendy cutout had disappeared.

There one moment, and then gone the moment she had taken her attention off it.

But now she noticed an ajar door leading to another room, and from there Audrey could hear whistling. It was a familiar tune, albeit she hadn’t heard it for a long time. Not since her father had showed young Audrey some sketches one day of a cartoonish imp and first introduced him as Bendy the Dancing Demon, who loved to dance and had made up a certain whistling tune. He had even imitated it, just to make Audrey giggle.

Somehow, she knew that here was what Bendy would sound like if he were to whistle the same tune. The only thing was the Bendy she knew and loved back home had never whistled, and Audrey wasn’t sure he even knew that song. Then someone stopped whistling and started to play the same melody on a piano.

The inky footprints led across the floor to the ajar door. Audrey swallowed, walked to the door, and carefully eased it open with the faintest of creaks. The next room did indeed have a piano in one corner, and sitting at the keys, his back to her, was none other than Bendy.

“Oh, thank goodness, there you are,” Audrey said, but for some reason she only took a few steps into the room. Something just felt a bit off about the scene. And she could detect the clunking of ink running through the pipes in the walls, which seemed to get a bit louder as Bendy continued to play the piano. She bit her lower lip, and hazarded calling out, “Bendy?”

The gloved fingers stopped moving, and the piano went silent.

“Bendy?” Audrey murmured again.

Then came a voice, a little bit like the one she thought she had heard echoing in-between the cries of Inky and Bendy, except that this version was deeper and seemed to be combined with the echoes of other voices, male and female voices, “Hasn’t anyone told you that ‘Wandering is a Terrible Sin?’” These final five words, alongside the cacophony of all those voices rolled into one, rumbled throughout the room, seeming to rattle the walls, the ceiling, and the floor. Audrey took a step back as the figure rotated his head 180 degrees and regarded her.

He looked a great deal like Bendy, but whereas Bendy had dark, pie-cut eyes, this figure had round eyes that glowed a pale red, with a thin circle in each one with a single dot in the center. He wore an aggrieved grimace from which thin streams of ink dribbled, and Audrey took another step back. Because unlike the Bendy she knew, this figure before her, whatever he was, appeared downright insane.

“What is the matter, Audrey?” the figure asked. “Are you not happy to see us?”

“You’re not Bendy.” Audrey’s thoughts raced. If necessary, she would run. At least she had learned just how many places there were to hide throughout the studio, and then she could plan out her next steps.

Except before she could so much as back into the next room, the door suddenly slammed shut. She reached back, while keeping her eyes on this imitation of Bendy, and tried the doorknob. As expected, it was locked.

The figure’s grimace grew thinner. “Why are you scared, Audrey? We will not hurt you. We are the ones who are hurt.” At first, Audrey thought that he meant—or maybe them(?)—had been hurt by her words, but then the rest of his/their body twisted around, and she noticed ink soaking through his/their clothes. There was ink dripping off him/them and onto the piano bench. “Can’t you see how much we are hurt?” He/they leaned forward a bit and shuddered. “You have been so helpful and understanding up to this point. Why turn away now?”

Audrey had no idea what this figure was talking about, but he/they did appear to be in pain. She took a deep breath and approached with caution. “But who are you?” she asked. “Who are you—really? You’re not Bendy, and you’re not Inky.” For all she knew, what she saw was just some shadowy part of her current nightmare, who would dissolve the moment she woke up. Thinking such things helped to ease her nerves a bit.

“You could call us ‘Wandering Sin,’ or maybe ‘Sinful Bendy.’”

To be honest, Audrey wasn’t sure how comfortable she was calling him/them by either name. They both included the word ‘sin,’ and the last thing she wanted was to fill these halls with more of that. “Would you mind if I just called you ‘Wandering?’”

“Then that will be our name, for now,” Wandering said, “because it comes from you.”

“I don’t understand,” Audrey replied, as she knelt before him/them and looked at his/their arm, where the dripping was especially noticeable. She bit her lip. “A bandage. I need something for a bandage.”

“Bandages don’t work for long with us,” Wandering intoned. “Bandages give way to pressure. They leak.” The banging in the walls increased. It sounded horrible, and sick.

“I still have to try,” Audrey insisted. “You can’t just give up.”

“We are unable to give up. We keep going on and on. We must handle it, even when we cannot handle it. You do not understand what we mean, do you?”

Audrey sighed. “No, but I’m willing to listen.” She ripped off a portion of her sweater. Thankfully, it remained whole and didn’t melt away in her grip, or something strange of that nature.

“You do not understand.” Wandering lowered his/their head a bit, and now he/they looked more exhausted than insane. “Even though you reached the point of collapsing. Even after we called you here.”

Audrey paused in the middle of wrapping the makeshift bandage around his/their arm, and ensuring it was nice and tight. The banging in the walls quieted. A fact that wasn’t lost on her. Something was going on with the being in front of her.

“You called me here?” This nightmare just seemed to keep getting stranger. “Why?”

“Because you would have been in great danger if you had gone any further in your condition. Because we could sense The Ink Demon and Bendy crying out in desperation on your behalf. Because you are a vital part of this world, and we could feel you teetering between worlds,” Wandering said, the voices echoing soulfully. “So, we did our best to be coherent for this brief period, formed from all the minds swimming ‘in a bowl,’ to bring you here for a while and force you to rest.”

The phrasing reminded Audrey of something Henry had told her once, about getting pulled into the Dark Puddles. About finding himself threatened with falling apart and losing his identity. Among all the voices crying out in the darkness.

This wasn’t Bendy.

“You’re…”

Wandering gestured a dripping hand towards the surroundings, and Audrey heard the soft clanking in the pipes pick up once again. “All of it. We are all of it, and no one part of it. We are not The Ink Demon. We are not Bendy. But we remember them, and you. We live in the walls. We are a part of the walls. We are everywhere. We remember Joey Drew. We have been alone for such a long time, so many voices drowned in the Dark Puddles.”

Audrey took a seat beside Wandering on the piano bench. “But you’re not alone anymore.” She laid a hand on his/their shoulder.

“We never knew how to ask for the help of others. We did not know we needed it so much.”

“There are people eager to help you make things better. You don’t have to do everything yourself,” Audrey insisted.

Wandering shivered. “We have tried, but we get tired so quickly.”

“You’ll get there. Just take things slow—” Then Audrey paused, the rest of the words frozen on her lips, amid the realization that Henry had basically said many of the same things to her, not so long ago. In the time leading up to her collapse.

“I’ve really been foolish,” Audrey murmured aloud. “I got so used to doing everything by myself that I forgot how to accept help when I needed it. Instead, I just worried everyone.”

“We can feel your hands helping to shape us,” Wandering continued. “We do not want anything to happen to you, so that no one can harm us again.” With that, Wandering laid his/their head in her lap, eyes drifting shut.

“I’m sorry,” Audrey said, stroking the side of his/their head. “I’ll strive to be healthier and trust my family and friends more, so we can keep The Ink World safe together.”

“We cannot stay like this much longer,” Wandering said, sounding tired and a little scared. “Stay with us until the end, okay?”

“All right,” Audrey said, and to soothe him/them, she started to hum the melody Wandering had played on the piano, remembering her father stroking back her hair gently as he soothed her to sleep. She watched Wandering dissolve in her arms. For one moment, his/their particles transformed into a Bendy cutout in front of her, and then even that faded away—along with the rest of the surroundings.

***

Audrey opened her eyes. She was in bed, and the clock on her bedside table showed that it was sometime in the evening. Around the clock, there were items like glasses of water, ice bags, a thermometer, and a few Fluffy the Bunny books, as well as Berserk the Monster.

She sat up, and a wet washcloth slipped off her head. Her head still ached, but she felt considerably better than she had that morning. Further, everything was back to its proper tints. Audrey sighed and nearly laid back down again, but then she heard someone speaking in the kitchen. Straining her ears, she picked up what was Mr. Ferguson saying, “My brother swore by this chicken soup recipe. He said there was nothing like it, except when there was. He was always a riot. Used to make me laugh all the time.”

Plates were being moved around, and cups were clanking together. And the aroma of the chicken soup wafted in through the ajar door was delicious.

Audrey carefully pushed back the covers, finding that she was back to her usual look, albeit now her usual clothes were a bit wrinkled. Still, she hadn’t been so happy to see them in a while as she was at that moment—and then she heard Bendy squeaking in laughter at something Mr. Ferguson told him about chickens swimming in their own gravy and so forth.

Oh, Bendy.

“This old man never lets up, does he, Bendy?” Audrey heard Inky grumble. “If he could see and hear me, I would tell him that he looks ridiculous stirring a huge pot like that.” He sniggered.

Oh, Inky.

Audrey carefully got up, still feeling a bit uncertain on her feet, and made her way to the doorway. From there, she could peer into the kitchen, where Bendy, dressed in his disguise, had handed Mr. Ferguson a ladle so he could pour some of the soup into a bowl. “Just you wait until she gets a taste of this soup, Benny. It’s like a magic potion,” Mr. Ferguson smiled. “In fact, you could probably use some of it too, with the way you’ve been running around. Where kids get all that energy, I’ll never know.”

Inky was the first to notice her. “Audrey….” he rasped in obvious relief.

At the mention of her name, Bendy twisted, saw Audrey making her way over, came running, and threw his arms around her neck as she bent down on one knee to receive him. Tears were streaming down his face, and she picked him up and rubbed his back, doing her best to soothe him as he continued to sob. “Bendy. Oh, Bendy, it’s okay,” she whispered. “I’m all right... now.”

“You should have seen how frantic your kid got,” Mr. Ferguson said, laying out three bowls of chicken soup. “He came running to my door, pounding on it like he wanted to knock it down, and showed me a message that said you weren’t waking up. He also wrote that he and someone named Inky, an imaginary friend I take it, were scared you would never wake up again.” Her landlord crossed his arms and looked at her. “I had to assure him numerous times that you had gotten a fever, probably from exhaustion, and just passed out. It took him a while to understand what I meant by a fever. As if he had never even heard of such a thing! The youth of today must be doing pretty good if they don’t recognize a fever.”

Then his brows drew together, and his expression became a lot sterner. “Of course, you didn’t seem to realize how close you were to collapsing from exhaustion. You just had to keep going until it happened, didn’t you? You’re young, but you’re not invincible, you know.”

Properly chastised from a few quarters now, Audrey said, “I know, and I’m so sorry, Mr. Ferguson. It won’t happen again.”

“It’d better not, Audrey,” Mr. Ferguson persisted. “I’m an old man now, and I don’t need to worry about my tenants dropping like flies around me due to their own recklessness.” He sat down and slurped a spoonful of soup.

Audrey would have gently set Bendy down on his chair before taking hers, but the cartoonish imp refused to let go. If anything, he tightened his hold, and so in the end he wound up sitting on her lap as they both had their portions of soup. Inky kept watching her as if she might disappear if he looked away for even a moment.

However, she kept soothing Bendy, and by extension, Inky, throughout the course of the meal. Mr. Ferguson moved onto much calmer topics, including a mention that someone had given Audrey a call on her often-forgotten telephone, a woman by the name of Marge, who had wanted to check on her. When Mr. Ferguson related the situation, Marge had promised to sort things out for her at work, and she hoped Audrey would get better soon.

Once Mr. Ferguson had left, Inky grumbled, “Well, are you stable now?”

Audrey turned to face Bendy and Inky. She recalled her conversation with Wandering, and gratitude to both demons surged through her. “Thank you both for taking such good care of me when I was sick. I’m very sorry for worrying you so much.”

“Bendy was hysterical. It was annoying,” Inky grunted.

Bendy jotted down, “Inky was scared. Really, really scared.”

“I was not!” Inky snapped.

“He made those weird breathing noises again,” Bendy added.

“I did not!” Inky roared. Then, “You find that funny, Audrey?”

“Oh, I love you two so much,” Audrey declared.

Bendy vibrated with happiness on the spot. He wrote, “We love you, Audrey, so much!!”

Meanwhile, Inky, who had gone quiet for several moments, snorted. “Don’t expect any sympathy next time.”

“Don’t worry, I plan to make sure that what happened earlier today was the last time,” Audrey vowed. “I’m going to take tomorrow off as well—and also take better care of myself in general.” She smiled. “I have you guys to think about, after all.”

A bit later, Audrey opened her father’s sketchbook, intending to apologize to Henry. There was a lengthy message waiting for her, but it wasn’t the chastisement she had expected from him the previous night when Audrey had closed the sketchbook so abruptly. Instead, Henry had written that Tom planned to build a hardware and mechanics shop, which he insisted on doing himself with some help from Allison and Henry. Further, Henry had suggested that he and the others make a point of taking on various constructing projects themselves at Ink Harmony Park, so Audrey wouldn’t need to work so hard to sketch everything. Additionally, doing so would help get the nearby Lost Ones an opportunity to do something constructive.

“Of course, we’ll still collaborate on refurbishing different parts of the studio, and creating things we cannot get any other way, but you don’t need to do it alone, Audrey,” Henry had reminded her. “We’re a team, and we’re all here to help.”

“I know,” Audrey replied, smiling. “Thank you for that.”

She gently closed the sketchbook, tucked Bendy into bed, gave him a small kiss on the head, and went to bed herself.

Chapter Text

Henry had decided to personalize the whole first floor, since it was obvious that he was the only one who really visited this part of the studio with any regularity. Sketches of landscapes and various other doodles, which threatened to crowd the walls in the safehouse, found plenty of open space and room to shine along these walls—which, he had to admit, were improving over time.

Long-existing cracks had closed in the walls, and the clanking sounds of ink going through pipes in the walls had quieted. Previously closed doors now opened to reveal extra closet space, shelves, and old cleaning supplies. There was just something especially cozy about spending time up there, and all he could think was that Audrey had chosen to refurbish the first floor as a special surprise.

Henry found a broom and swept up and down the hallways, while playing soft jazz music on the radio. He played some darts in the sizable break room. He even dared to step foot into the room where, by plugging in three power cells, chains would lift a version of The Ink Machine out from a vat of ink—although he had avoided doing that during this Cycle.

So many idle rooms.

So much restless energy.

He blamed Tom, whose focus on building his own hardware and mechanics shop had clearly been contagious. Lost Ones had even stepped forward to help him carry supplies from the creation machines, where they could plop in a glob of ink and turn a crank to spit out objects, for the project. And Tom was somehow about to direct them about through his usual series of grunts and barks, helped at time by Allison, who also carried materials and sometimes sang from a makeshift stage to keep up their spirits. And Henry had been able to lend a hand as well by helping Tom to sketch the blueprints for the general design and layout of the building.

Then again, Ink Harmony Park was quickly becoming a hive of activity, in general, and not just around the stone plaza where The Tasty Pizza, the police station, and Porter’s General Store stood. There had been a time when Henry would have steered clear of any large gatherings of Lost Ones for fear of being attacked. Lately, however, it was the fear of being caught up in a crowd of excited park visitors that presented the biggest problem.

The whole thing was a little too overwhelming for him sometimes, which made coming to the first floor appealing. Still… exactly what was he going to do with all this extra space?

Henry pulled out the Seeing Tool more on a whim than out of an actual desire to do anything specific. It had been ages since these walls had held any secrets for him.

That was what he thought, however, only until he noticed a message revealed by the Seeing Tool in broad, golden strokes of ink near the landscape drawings he had hung along the wall in the frontmost room. A message that read, “We think your drawings are pretty.” Henry nearly dropped the device out of sheer shock, especially when he moved the Seeing Tool further to one side and noticed a crudely drawn flower near one drawing he had done of a bouquet of flowers in a vase.

Something strange was going on here.

“Hello?” Henry called, looking around, straining his ears to hear anything out of the ordinary. But all was silent and still. “Whoever you are, I’m not exactly in the mood to play games.” This time, he carefully inspected the rest of the room with the Seeing Tool, and at first the note near his sketches seemed to be extent of whatever was happening.

Then he caught sight of another note near the base of the same wall that read, “Okay. We are tired now again anyway.”

Very strange.

Henry was going to need to ask Audrey about this one. So, he wrote out a note that read, “Hello, Audrey. Do you have a minute? We need to talk.” He went to the mailbox to stick it in and discovered that there was a message already waiting for him inside.

Oh, good. Maybe Audrey had already sent him an explanation about this latest development.

The note read, “Good afternoon, Henry!!!”

Audrey must have been in a good mood. She had almost never used an exclamation mark, let alone three of them, during their exchanges. Henry wrote back, “Good afternoon. Do you have a moment to talk?”

“I have a lot of moments,” came the response, followed seconds later by a small note that added, “I have a lot of moments to talk.”

Henry scratched his head. Something was felt a bit… off about this situation. He wrote, “Audrey?”

“I am not Audrey.”

For a moment, Henry glanced at the walls of the room around him, wondering if it had something to do with the new messages that were appearing all over the place. Allison, once upon a time, had told him that any number of inhabitants lost in the studio might be responsible for the golden ink. “For some poor souls down here, it’s the only way they can be heard.”

Well, if that was the case, maybe Henry might finally get some answers. It might even be a good way to start learning more about The Lost Ones and the unique abilities certain ones had learned to pass along to each other. He remembered how it had felt to flow to the front door of The Tasty Pizza, and to travel by ink fountain from Ink Harmony Park and wondered that he could have traveled through this place so many Cycles but still had so much to discover. Maybe it was little wonder Porter got so enthusiastic about it.

Even so, the studio was a dangerous place. Henry couldn’t forget that. Ever. He wrote, “Who are you, then?” and stuck the note in the mailbox.

There came the usual ding to announce the arrival of a new letter, but when Henry unfolded it, a tremor went through him. Because it said, “Bendy!”

The name conjured the image of the cartoonish imp seated somewhere in the Real World, which alone wasn’t much reason for fright. Audrey had stressed how peaceful and loving Bendy was, and his similarities to his cartoon counterpart. However, stretching across the wall behind him, Henry could just picture a tall, far more menacing shadow of a figure with gnashing jaws and a wicked cackle.

“Bendy,” Henry penned, “where is Audrey?”

The answer took several minutes. It was enough time for Henry to imagine numerous circumstances that could have brought Bendy to the page. Maybe something terrible had happened to Audrey, for instance, and he didn’t have anywhere else to turn. Or perhaps something worse was in process.

At last, “Audrey is sleeping on the couch.”

Henry frowned. All right, so Audrey was probably fine but likely didn’t know what Bendy was doing, which begged the question, “Why are you writing to me, Bendy?”

“Inky told me to.”

Ah, The Ink Demon was responsible. He was encouraging Bendy to do things behind Audrey’s back, perhaps, towards some scheme of his own in The Real World. His whole body tensed as it always had in the past when he’d known The Ink Demon was on the prowl. Henry wrote, “Why did The Ink Demon tell you to write to me?”

The next response took even longer, during Henry wound up pacing through the empty hallways a few times and listening to his footsteps echo amid the silence.

Finally, there came a ding.

Henry unfolded the message. This one read, “Inky told me to write to you because I wanted to practice my writing, but Audrey was sleeping and Inky said I was annoying him because he was reading a book that we got at the library today. It is about a scary monster that lives under a bed, and I am turning the pages for him. But I wanted to practice my writing, so Inky said I should annoy you instead because you like to write a lot.”

Untangling this message took a moment, and letting the implications sink in took a bit longer. Henry flopped onto a chair near the mailbox and projector, his muscles relaxing. He gazed around the room, but his mind was elsewhere, considering not only the idea of The Ink Demon reading what sounded suspiciously like a children’s book, but that The Ink Demon would tell Bendy to write to Henry so—as the suggestion seemed to indicate—Bendy would leave him alone while he was doing it.

Was this the the same Ink Demon who had chased after Henry for so many years? The same one who had clawed at him and dragged him into the Dark Puddles? Or the same one he had heard threaten Audrey and who had terrorized the studio?

Another ding.

Henry unfolded the note.

“Inky says he wishes he had known about hiding under beds when he was chasing you,” Bendy had written.

Henry leaned back in the chair, his frown deepening. Yep, that sounded much closer to The Ink Demon, although the way Bendy phrased it made him suspect the cartoonish imp didn’t realize how terrifying the prospect of The Ink Demon dragging Henry out of a bed and into the ink-filled darkness underneath would have been.

Another note appeared. “The library was big! There were books everywhere. I love books.”

Henry tried to search the memories that old Joey Drew had implanted in his mind of any libraries from New York, and there was one major landmark that came up. A huge, stately building of stone that, now that Henry thought about it, would have made him reminded him more of a museum had he passed it on the street.

“Do you mean The New York Public Library?” he wrote.

“Yes!!” Bendy answered. “I got my own library card!!!”

Henry found a smile creeping across his face. Bendy’s excitement was getting to him.

Then Bendy went on, “I used my own library card to get books, and Audrey said I should use the library card to get books for Inky too. My library card looks like this.” Near the bottom of the message was a simple rectangle Bendy had drawn, with “New York Public Library” printed along the top. “I got a lot of books about Fluffy the Bear. He is Fluffy the Bunny’s best friend.”

Henry, who faintly remembered Audrey mentioning that Bendy loved to read Fluffy the Bunny, replied, “A bear is friends with a bunny?”

“Best friends!”

“I see…” How could Henry argue with the logic of a children’s book? Besides, Bendy was clearly in love with the idea, and despite his initial reluctance, Henry found he was enjoying this conversation. It was certainly turning out to be more relaxing than expected, and there was something a bit surreal about exchanging messages with Bendy.

“Do you have a library?” Bendy asked.

Henry thought about it. Until more recently, there hadn’t exactly been one specific collection of knowledge assembled anywhere in The Ink World that he knew about for anyone to visit freely. Such locations would have been decimated by violent Lost Ones within hours of opening, or possibly torn apart during one of The Ink Demon’s rampages.

Of course, things had changed since then.

So, Henry wrote back, “Not yet. Maybe someday soon.”

Then another note came, but this one included a picture of a rabbit with very long ears and extra-long whiskers. There was an arrow beside it, which Bendy used to affix the label, “Fluffy the Bunny.” There was also a “P.S. I can draw too!”

If the Fluffy the Bunny that Bendy had drawn were to somehow lift his ears amid a windstorm, Henry thought absently, he would get blown away. Henry decided to draw his own version, and so he jotted down, “Wait for a moment, all right?” and set to work on a sketch at his usual corner desk.

Several minutes later, he had sketched his own version of the rabbit. It wasn’t the realistic kind Henry could remember as existing in The Real World, but more like a cartoonish rendering with more manageable proportions for its ears, whiskers, and puffy tail. He slipped the picture into the mailbox and was somewhat unsurprised to receive a reply within seconds. This time, Bendy gushed about how cool the drawing was, said he was a “really good artist,” and asked how he did it, and if he could also draw Fluffy the Bear.

Well, it wasn’t like Henry had anything else to do for a while, so he began to take Bendy through the rudiments of basic sketch work—having him draw circles, and lines, and telling him the purpose of each step. He had never had anyone ask him to explain how he created his drawings. Being forced to do so for Bendy was surprisingly invigorating, although he was sure some of that came from the enthusiasm Bendy displayed at each step in the process.

In this way, they drew various versions of not only Fluffy the Bunny, but also of Fluffy the Bear. Henry had to admit he was impressed at how quickly Bendy picked up the basics, although the cartoon imp might have been adding to what he had seen from Audrey’s process as an artist as well.

Then, quite suddenly, Bendy wrote, “Audrey is awake!!!”

Things went quiet for the next several minutes. Henry spent the time wandering around and inspecting all the walls on the first floor with the Seeing Tool again, looking for more new messages. But there were none, as far as he could tell, beyond the ones near his sketches on the wall.

A ding sounded.

Henry, who heard the sound from down the hall, flowed down its length to reach the front room faster and pulled out the letter. This one was clearly from Audrey, and she apologized for the shock of having Bendy write to him, stressing she had known nothing about it. But Henry gently responded that the whole experience had been great, and that Bendy was already showing a lot of promise as an artist. And, carried along by the tides of said experience, he remarked he wouldn’t mind have similar conversations and drawing sessions with Bendy again.

It was easy to tell how much relief this declaration generated on Audrey’s end. But when Audrey began to write that she had better be going, Henry remembered why he had tried to contact her in the first place.

“Say, Audrey, hang on a minute,” he wrote, and then proceeded to tell her about the strange messages that had appeared in the front room.

“Oh, that’s probably Wandering,” Audrey replied simply. “I met them the other day when I, well… when I got sick. They get tired easily.” What followed afterwards was an explanation of exactly what had happened, such as her collapse from overwork, and of her taking a few days off from work to recover, which had included a visit to the New York Public Library.

Henry had to take all this information sitting down, and by the end it felt as if just about anything might happen next—which, incidentally, it did when Audrey remarked, “A library could be a good idea for The Ink World. I happened to read through some of your conversation with Bendy on that point.”

“Most of it would be random notes, musical records, and art, though,” Henry pointed out. “There’s never really been much of a reason to write anything longer here in the studio.”

“There was one library,” Audrey replied. “It had whole walls filled with books, but I don’t even know if it’s around anymore.”

“Hmm, and where was that?”

Audrey seemed to hesitate before answering, “At Wilson’s Manor.”

A chill went down Henry’s spine. “Wilson had a private library.” It wasn’t a question. Exactly what Wilson could have kept there was up for debate, but whatever it contained had probably been dangerous. It might just have included information about everything Wilson had gotten up to during his tyranny with the Keepers. And just maybe, Henry’s mind whirled on, texts related to Gent and whatever plans they had made in conjunction with Wilson.

Lost in thought as he was, Henry almost missed Audrey’s next letter, where she explained that she hadn’t really browsed much of the collection, but that it seemed like there were books on a wide variety of topics there, including cookbooks and some strange volumes on theories that she had been unable to figure out. The location, unfortunately, didn’t show up in her father’s sketchbook, in the same way that the Gent Workshop didn’t show up in it.

“At least it’s been quiet,” Audrey wrote. “We don’t need to worry about Wilson or his Keepers anymore.”

“Right,” Henry replied, while a small part of his mind whispered, Oh, but it isn’t Wilson or his Keepers that we need to worry about anymore, is it? It’s Gent. “How about we talk about all this a bit later, Audrey?” he wrote at last. “Thanks for telling me about Wandering, and I look forward to another drawing session with Bendy.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Henry,” Audrey said, followed by, “Oh yes, Bendy wants to wish you goodnight as well.”

“Goodnight, Audrey. Goodnight, Bendy.”

In the stillness after these exchanges, Henry walked slowly back to his work desk and sat down, gazing around at the sketches covering these walls. He thought of Ink Harmony Park and all the promising changes that had coming to the studio during this Cycle. He also thought of the seemingly innocuous film reel that said, “The End,” which had been missing since this latest Cycle began, imagined the library that Audrey had described, and was unable to dispel the looming presence of the Old Gent Workshop from his mind.

Henry thought of many such things.

Then he held another conversation, this time with the walls and using The Seeing Tool--long into the night.

Chapter Text

Taking several days off from work served Audrey well. She spent the time enjoying such activities as playing checkers with Bendy and Inky, reading with them, and traveling together out to Central Park and The New York Public Library. Inky seemed to “consume” monster-themed tales, while Bendy loved anything that had small, fluffy animals—yet they shared the same reluctance return the books they had borrowed.

Their insistence on having more books they could keep led to a visit to Cohen’s Books, and a conversation where Audrey had discussed more monster-themed book possibilities with Mr. Cohen, while Inky messed around with the reflection of the bookkeeper in the mirror behind him—by pretending to munch on his shoulder, snigger into his ear, and lean against him while striking an especially wide, malicious grimace. The last of these antics had caused squeaks of laughter from Bendy, and even Audrey had barely suppressed a chuckle. Just because, in that moment, the thought struck her of how far they had come in the last several weeks, and how close they had gotten as a family.

It was also amazing just how many things they could do each day, getting pleasantly tired while still moving around at their leisure. Bendy had another drawing session with Henry, and when Audrey suggested that he open an artist’s studio, Henry seemed to seriously consider the possibility.

Things were flowing incredibly smoothly. Audrey couldn’t remember being so happy.

On the morning of her return to Archgate Films, Audrey woke up refreshed and eager to get back to the latest animation project. She flipped pancakes, while Bendy made scrambled eggs. A minor situation arose when Inky decided to regale them with the summary of a tale he’d read about a closet monster, which caused Bendy to write out a message telling Audrey that Inky was scaring him.

Inky grumbled that Bendy was a scaredy cat—a term he had learned from the same book.

“Get along, you two,” Audrey reminded them as she left, offering Mr. Ferguson a greeting as she passed him in the hallway.
The weather was beautiful, and she had a pleasant stroll to work.

Everything, in fact, was right with the world until the argument.

“Ah, don’t take it that way,” Audrey heard Andrew say from somewhere beyond her ajar office door. “Come on, it’s not like I’m asking you to marry me or anything…. Err, now why are you upset?”

Then Marge retorted, “Because if there’s one thing I absolutely can’t stand, it’s someone who is clueless.”

“Well, I have no idea who you’re talking about there, Margie,” Andrew said.

“It figures, and don’t call me Margie.”

“Anyway… so, will you go with me or not?”

“Not in a million years.”

“Very well, then you leave me no choice.”

The whole time Audrey sat listening to this heated exchange, she was uncomfortably aware of Marge and Andrew drawing ever closer to her office, until at last there came a rapping on the wood. Audrey hesitated, then called, “Come in.”

Andrew opened the door and entered, with Marge fuming as she followed him.

Audrey had already greeted Marge that morning, back before the trouble ignited. She had thanked her again for all the help at work when she was out sick, which Marge had happily waved off. “Don’t worry, Audrey. That’s what friends do. We help each other out.”

Right now, though, Marge looked ready to invite Andrew into a wrestling ring.

Andrew held up a ticket. “Audrey, sorry to bother you since you’d just gotten back and everything, but would you do me the honor of coming with me this evening to the Metropolitan Museum of Art for their limited-time only exhibition of the painting ‘The Spring of Dreams?’” He flashed his usual quirky, half-smile. “I can tell you would appreciate such a wondrous masterpiece.”

“The Spring of Dreams?” Audrey had to admit the name alone intrigued her. However, her gaze slid over to Marge, whose expression softened at her obvious discomfort.

Marge pulled Audrey off to one side. “Please go with him, Audrey. I’m begging you.”

“But…”

“I’ll explain to you in a moment, so please!” Marge pleaded.

“Well?” Andrew asked.

Whatever was going on here clearly went much deeper than special tickets to an art exhibition. Still, Marge had really done Audrey a huge favor during the last couple of days, and now Marge was the one who needed help.

Audrey took a deep breath, and then released it. She turned to Andrew. “Okay, I accept.”

“Great, that’s the spirit,” Andrew said. He offered to pick up Audrey at her apartment and escort her to the museum, but Audrey quickly suggested they meet in front of Tony’s Pizzeria instead. Audrey had meant the location more as a point from which they would immediately head over to the museum, but Andrew remarked that having pizza for dinner was a great way to start the occasion. “Got it. It’s a date. See you this evening, then.” Andrew saluted Audrey, winked at Marge, and strolled away seeming quite pleased with himself.

Marge sagged as she watched him go.

Audrey asked, “Are you sure this is all right? It looks like you might have wanted to—” She trailed off at the sudden sadness in her friend’s face. Something Marge had remarked to her in the past came to mind and found its way to her lips, “I don’t mean to pry.”

“No, no. It’s my fault you’re in a weird situation,” Marge murmured. Her expression was solemn as she asked, “Can you keep a secret?”

The question provoked a furious flurry of secrets that Audrey needed to keep on a regular basis to twirl through her mind. Like being the ink-and-flesh daughter of Joey Drew, or living with Bendy and Inky in an apartment, or communicating with the inky residents of a whole pocket dimension within The Ink Machine downstairs in the special exhibition room, among many others. Things that she could never share because it was too dangerous.

It was with some confidence that Audrey stated, “Yes.”

Marge heaved a sigh of relief, then made sure to close the office door to allow them the utmost privacy. “I’ve mentioned Andrew and I have known each other since high school, right?”

Audrey nodded.

“Well, it might have not been that simple.” Here, Marge blushed so fiercely her gingery hair was light by comparison. “We might have been a bit sweet on each other, although it was more like a close friendship than anything more serious. Or maybe I was the only one who thought if it was something more… No, it was probably just me.”

They fell into an uneasy silence for a moment, as Marge rubbed one arm.

Audrey knew it was a loaded question but ventured to ask, “What happened?”

“Life, I guess.” Marge crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. “Andrew and I first connected through our mutual love of artwork, but then something… happened. He learned something or went through something, and then it was like he just changed overnight and became super interested in studying law. He kept getting distracted. Oh, I don’t know how to describe it!” Marge threw her hands up. “It was something to do with his father, he mentioned. He wouldn’t tell me anything else, and we started spending more and more time apart. I never understood.”

Her arms dropped to her sides. She seemed defeated, suddenly. “We lost touch for years. I came to work here, and then shortly after Nathan Arch officially began to produce Bendy cartoons, Andrew just turned up out of the blue, like nothing had happened. He wouldn’t give any explanation for what he’d been doing the whole time. He acted as the intervening years hadn’t mattered… which I guess would make sense if what we had was only a friendship. People move on after high school, after all. Things change.”

Marge sighed. “Anyway, he’s asked me out on a couple of occasions since then, but I’ve always turned him down. It’d be too awkward. But this time, for some reason, he was very insistent on it, so I sort of panicked when I asked you to take my place. Sorry.”

Of all the things she had expected to go through this morning, Audrey would never have guessed she would be here struggling to give advice on romance to her co-worker. It felt much too far outside her own realm. Such things had never even crossed her mind.

Then again, so many things hadn’t crossed her mind outside of work for a very long time, anyway. And only one piece of advice occurred to her. “Shouldn’t you simply talk to him about all this?” Audrey asked. “You could find out what he really thinks, and how he feels.”

“Could you imagine what would happen if I confessed all that to him?” Marge said. “You’ve seen him, albeit not as much as I have. He’ll make light of the whole thing, and I wouldn’t be able to stand that.”

“I still think you should—”

“It’ll only be for a few hours this evening,” Marge interrupted. “I’ll owe you for it, and you can ask me for anything in return. I promise.” Then, before Audrey could say anything else, Marge was hurrying out the door. “Thank you, Audrey. I knew I could count on you!” She called over her shoulder.

Audrey sunk into her work chair, put her face in her hands, and groaned for a while.

She went home earlier than usual—and swung by Mr. Ferguson’s apartment to have a quick word with him.

When Audrey slipped into her apartment, Bendy and Inky were deep in an intense match of checkers.

“If Bendy loses,” Inky sniggered with a wicked grimace, “he must read my book, Dark Star, the Brooding Ogre. If he by some accident wins, I will be forced to read one of his silly bunny books.”

Audrey set down her workbag, went to pour herself a cup of coffee, and stated, “I have a date.”

“You have a what?” Inky rasped in puzzlement. He took his attention off the game for a moment, and during the lapse, Bendy claimed his last checkers piece and squeaked in delight. Inky glanced down at the board and saw Bendy slide one of the Fluffy the Bunny books towards him with, it must be said, a rather smug look. Inky roared in anguish.

It was then, though, that Bendy seemed to realize what Audrey had said. As Inky continued to grumble, Bendy wrote in his notebook, “What is a….” he seemed to fumble with the final, unfamiliar word, and so finally settled for just looking at her in confusion.

Audrey proceeded to explain the situation as calmly as she could. She was going to The Metropolitan Museum of Art with a co-worker named Andrew as a favor to another co-worker named Marge. They would be out for a few hours, at the most, and she would be back by midnight. Mr. Ferguson was going to come shortly and make a fine spaghetti dinner for them, and he had agreed to stay with them until Audrey got back, although Inky grumbled at this point that they would be fine on their own.

“It is bad enough you are going to the realm of pizza without us with this Andrew,” Inky spat his name. “Or that you have never taken us to the museum. We do not need a babysitter.”

Apparently, “babysitter” was another term Inky had picked up.

Audrey sighed. “I know you’re both upset about this situation, and it was a surprise for me too, but I promise I’ll make it up to you later, all right?” She stroked Bendy between his horns. “I’ll do my best to be back as soon as I can.”

Bendy wrote in his notebook, “You don’t want to go, Audrey?”

“Not really. I think my co-workers—well, my friends, I should say—would have been happier being the ones to go, but I made a promise and need to keep it.”

“Like you just promised us?” Bendy wrote.

“Exactly,” Audrey said with a smile. “Now I need to get ready, all right?”

During the next half hour or so, Audrey dug through her closet for a suitable dress, a simple lavender one with a flower design across the skirt, and low-heeled dress shoes. She had never worn makeup and didn’t intend to experiment with it now, so she left the small makeup kit stuffed into the back of her closet alone.

Bendy watched on in nervousness, while Inky continued to complain about being left behind at the apartment, asked more questions about Andrew that suggested he really didn’t care for him, and wanted to know why Audrey would do so much for the sake of a promise.

To the last one, Audrey replied, “It’s more for the sake of my friend, but keeping a promise is important. It builds trust between people. Such as,” she picked up Bendy and swung him around gently, making him squeak in surprised delight, “I promise to love you both forever.”

Once Audrey set Bendy on the ground, the cartoonish imp started to write something in his notebook—only to get cut off by knocking on the door. “Ah, that must be Mr. Ferguson,” Audrey said, going to answer it.

Mr. Ferguson was indeed at the door, and he had come equipped with a bucket that contained boxes of pasta, spaghetti sauces, and various herbs and other delights for their spaghetti meal. “When it comes to spaghetti,” he said. “You won’t find a better chef than me. Oh yes, and I even brought along a salad so Benny here can have his veggies.”

“I appreciate that, Mr. Ferguson,” Audrey said. She turned, gave Bendy one last hug, nodded at Inky sulking in the mirror, and left. “See you soon!” were her parting words.

***

“All right, then, Benny,” Mr. Ferguson closed the apartment door and plunked the bucket of supplies on the kitchen counter. “We have an incredible pasta dinner to prepare, and no mistake.” The old man paused.

Bendy could feel his eyes. He could tell Mr. Ferguson was watching him and could hear him shift his weight from one leg to the other, his bones creaking a bit. Bendy noticed things like that all the time. He was good at noticing stuff.

Right now, all he wanted to notice was Audrey coming back through the door, so he could show her what he had written in his notebook. He looked down at the words, “I promise to protect you forever.” It was what Fluffy the Bunny had told Fluffy the Swan in one of his books, when she had broken her wing. He had taken care of her, just like she had once taken care of and sheltered him beneath the same wing amid a terrible windstorm, when he was all alone.

Bendy wished he could take care of Audrey better.

“Ah, now stop staring forlornly at the door,” Mr. Ferguson said, “and help me prepare something good to eat. She’ll be back soon enough.” He filled the pot halfway with water, turned on one of the burners, and started heating the water. He poured in a bit of vegetable oil. “Hand me some of those noodles, would you?”

The noodles were in a bag. Bendy reached in and pulled one of them out like a long, floury ribbon. He cocked his head to one side in curiosity.

“I made them myself,” Mr. Ferguson said. “To be honest, I would have brought over the pasta-making machine if I hadn’t broken some of the components when making this batch earlier, just to show you how it works. Something for next time, probably.”

“Next time?” Inky growled suspiciously. Bendy could hear his voice echo in the back of his head, and there was a pinch of irritation in it. Inky was suspicious about what was happening now, with Audrey on this strange “date” with this “Andrew.”

“You should be happy for your mom, you know,” Mr. Ferguson said as he stirred the pot and the water started to boil. “It’s hard raising a kid alone sometimes.”

“This old man has no idea what he is talking about, Bendy,” Inky snarled. “He is making a fool of himself.”

As Mr. Ferguson set down a saucepan, poured in the spaghetti sauce, and started mixing in the various herbs, Bendy walked to the mirror. He wrote in the notebook and presented the page to Inky, which read, “Do we make things hard for Audrey?”

“Why are you asking such a ridiculous question?”

“Because Audrey got sick,” Bendy wrote.

Inky stared at him, and Bendy could feel that his question had struck a nerve. They had both felt the same terror, and the image was still much-too-vivid of Audrey collapsing on the ground, of Bendy shaking her while Inky roared in fury. They had both felt her body shudder before it just laid there calmly. They had been united in their intense efforts to help her, and for a moment Bendy had felt something he had never felt before—an odd sensation of having The Ink World close at hand, of its vastness and comforting touches of warmth, and all the voices of Lost Ones hopeful for something better amid the current Cycle. He had glimpsed memories of dark things, scary things, and torturous things he immediately wanted to forget because they made him feel bad—very, very bad.

Bendy had understood he was peering into Inky’s mind, and he wondered if Inky was peering into his as well.

Then something had snapped, Inky had started snarling at him to get help, and those unpleasant memories had vanished for him.

Bendy was sure nothing he had seen or forgotten compared to the sight of Audrey sprawled on the ground, though, like the bodies of the Lost Ones whenever they collapsed in their other world. Audrey had not disappeared like The Lost Ones did into The Ink to become a part of The Dark Puddles, to be reborn in some shape or form elsewhere. It was different in this world. But Bendy knew that even if they did return to their other world, he never wanted Audrey to disappear in such a way.

“I want to protect her,” Bendy wrote. “I want her to be safe.”

Inky growled and grumbled for a while, staring at the message, shifting about in the reflection. Finally, he rasped, “Audrey is probably fine. If she could survive against me, she can survive against this Andrew.” Then he snarled, “If you ever tell her I said that I will whisper what the closet monster does to the victims who get trapped in his closet realm relentlessly until you screech.”

“All right, then,” Mr. Ferguson switched off the pot and pan, and drained the noodles. “Time for dinner, Benny!”

The spaghetti was delicious. Even though he was still anxious, Bendy couldn’t resist squeaks of delight while slurping down the sauce-drenched noodles. There were also meatballs, which Bendy rolled around with a fork like miniature balls, and which tasted so savory even Inky grumbled that what Mr. Ferguson had made was “adequate.” The salad was good too.

Still, Bendy couldn’t help glancing towards the door, as if hoping Audrey come through it at any moment.

At last, Inky snapped, “If you care that much, why don’t you do something about it rather than whimpering like a scaredy cat?”

“I am not a scaredy cat!” Bendy hurriedly wrote out and held up.

Mr. Ferguson, who happened to be in the middle of telling a story about a wild trip to Coney Island—the type of adventure Bendy would normally have become instantly engrossed in—spotted the message. “I wasn’t saying you were, Benny,” he said, apparently thinking it was in response to a part of his anecdote. “Although, I can tell you, everyone gets scared sometimes. It’s how you deal with being scared that counts.”

Bendy thought about Audrey as she had rushed around getting ready for her date. She had been nervous, and likely a whole bunch of other things.

She had been strong.

Bendy wanted to be strong too.

He wrote in his notebook and held it up to Mr. Ferguson.

“Ah, so you want to go visit the art museum right now, Benny?” Mr. Ferguson twirled some noodles around his fork. “I take it you mean the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the same one where your mom is going on her date.”

Bendy nodded, looking determined.

“I bet you want to go see how they’re getting on, and if you should be intimidated by this guy friend of hers.” Mr. Ferguson speared a meatball and seemed to be inspecting it.

Bendy nodded again.

“Of course, it would be irresponsible of me, an old man in charge over someone else’s kid, to take them anywhere other than their room to make sure they were tucked in properly for bedtime.”

Hearing these words, Bendy lowered his notebook, and his determination drooped. It sounded like Mr. Ferguson was going to be responsible. Inky started to grumble.

“Then again, I know Audrey trusts me to keep you safe, and she never said anything about spending the entire time in this apartment."

Bendy’s smile began to grow as the implications sunk in, and Inky rasped, “This old man might not be so bad after all.” But he was quick to add, “Even if he is still a fool.”

***

Andrew showed up at Tony’s Pizzeria right on time, and they had slices of New York-style pizza for dinner. From the start, Audrey had to admit that it was a different experience to meet Andrew outside of work, since he wore a fine dress suit and seemed a little quieter than usual. Most of that likely had to do with the fact that Audrey was so used to hearing him shoot off lighthearted remarks to their co-workers in the office and teasing Marge that she had, as he put it, “a lovely voice that he could hear a mile away.” Which Marge seemed to take as a cloaked jab at her.

Now he seemed to be acting the part of the perfect gentleman, asking how her day had gone, what she thought of the latest cartoon feature they were working on, and if she was feeling better. He seemed to steer clear of any questions that might have caused her to divulge too much personal information, such as how she had spent her days off, if she had ever gone on a date before, or—and most importantly to Audrey’s mind—if she was looking after a child at home.

He insisted on paying the bill, and as they walked towards the museum, he stuck to the side closest to the street.

In the face of his courteousness, Audrey experienced a pang of guilt at struggling to find much to say. Aside from discussing the latest animated feature at the studio, she wasn’t sure exactly what to talk about on an occasion like this one. The only thing that kept coming to mind was how much Marge should have been here instead.

Still, his chosen walking position was at least a source of curiosity that allowed her to ask, “Why do you keep switching to be closest to the street?” The answer was painfully obvious, Audrey was sure, and she could just imagine him making light of it.

Instead, Andrew answered seriously enough. “Ah, that’s to shield you from whatever unpleasantness might come from the street. There was a time, way back, when Marge and I were strolling down the street on a rainy day, and a taxi shot past so quickly it splashed up a wave of spray at us. She nearly got drenched.”

“So you stepped in the way and got drenched instead,” Audrey finished.

Andrew smiled. “Guilty,” he replied, then glanced ahead of them as if visualizing the whole scene. “To his credit, the taxi driver noticed what had happened and stopped to apologize, and you should have seen Marge berating him about driving too fast during a rainstorm like there was no tomorrow. In fact, after several minutes of getting chastised, the taxi driver likely believed there was going to be no tomorrow for him.” He was chuckling. “The taxi driver was so embarrassed that he gave us a free ride the rest of the way to work.”

“It sounds like you have a lot of fun together,” Audrey said.

“Yeah, nobody can make me laugh like Margie.”

“Why do you call her that?” Audrey asked before she could stop to think if it might be too personal.

Andrew took it all in stride. “It was something of a nickname I gave her back in high school,” he replied. “She seemed to like it, so I kept calling her that.” He paused, and for the first time that evening, his jollity faltered. “She doesn’t seem to like it anymore, though.”

“Have you spoken with her about it?”

“I’ve tried to, but she just gets angry.” Andrew shook his head. “To be honest, I don’t blame her. I sort of… got busy with a whole bunch of family matters towards the end of high school, and then we lost touch for a while. I didn’t want to get her involved.” For a moment, a flicker of such red-hot anger pinched his face that Audrey retreated a step.

He noticed her reaction, and shame replaced the anger. “My apologies,” Andrew went on. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. It’s just,” he glanced at her, his expression slipping into something more carefully guarded, “can I ask you a question? You can tell me if it’s too personal or uncomfortable to answer.”

Audrey swallowed hard, feeling her pulse pick up tempo. “Yes?”

“Your last name is Drew, isn’t it?” he said quietly.

“It is,” Audrey replied. It hadn’t been the question she expected—although she hadn’t really known what to expect, really.

“Any relation to Joey Drew?”

Audrey stopped on the street. Ahead of them, she could glimpse the grand stone building that was the Metropolitan Museum of Art, with a wide staircase leading up to its colonnaded front facade. It was strange, but the way Andrew had delivered that question, and the sudden seriousness, reminded her a bit of being sat down in an interrogation room.

She stared at him, feeling a bit frightened.

Andrew saw it, and his seriousness evaporated back into shame. He stuck his hands into his pockets. “Ah, look at me now, scaring my co-workers with somber questions and ruining a perfectly nice evening. Margie—no, after this, Marge is really going to hate me now.” He walked on a bit ahead, as if thinking about just running off into the night. But he didn’t. He looked too much, suddenly, like he’d been kicked.

Audrey couldn’t imagine by what, but she had the uncomfortable feeling it somehow went back to a certain defunct studio. There was also something about him, with his body language and what she had seen of him so far, that made her admit, “Joey Drew was my father.”

Andrew paused, with his back turned to her.

“It’s a long story,” Audrey persisted.

When Andrew finally looked at her again, some of the previous jollity had been forced back into his face, albeit Audrey now recognized how fragile it was. “Grant Cohen was mine.”

***

Mr. Ferguson was moving too slow. Bendy held onto his hand tightly, trying to be patient as they walked along the street, but it was difficult when the old landlord walked at a snail’s pace and seemed to stop every now and then to comment on various matters, such as how much more crowded New York City was than when he had been a boy, how everyone was always in a rush, and—when they passed a clothes store—the weird outfits the younger generation wore nowadays in the name of fashion.

Bendy found himself tugging on Mr. Ferguson’s hand, but the old man was surprisingly strong.

Inky, meanwhile, had appeared in every storefront window he could, snarling out his own rage at Mr. Ferguson, trying in vain to shove Mr. Ferguson’s reflection along, and once even threatening to curse him forever—although Bendy didn’t exactly understand what Inky meant by that.

Everything was so much taller and spookier from the ground. Bendy had gotten used to riding piggyback on Audrey’s shoulders, or having her carry him around, rather than having to move among this never-ending tide of legs.

Well, Bendy promised himself, he wouldn’t make Audrey carry him around all the time when they went places in the city anymore. He would be brave and walk beside her the whole time.

There came the echoing blare of a car horn as a driver honked at another vehicle speeding past. Bendy leapt backwards in alarm and plinked against the glass of a window display for hats.

Inky sniggered at him.

Finally, after an agonizingly long period, they reached the museum. Mr. Ferguson gazed up the steps and murmured, “Yep, I haven’t visited the Met in about a decade now, and I bet they still have the same Grecian statutes and paintings by all those famous artists who are actually older than me. Can you imagine that?”

Without frames of reference on either point, Bendy offered Mr. Ferguson a hopeless shrug. He also, as Mr. Ferguson began to climb the stairs, noticed a young woman in a sparkly green dress sitting on the top step, staring forlornly through oversized glasses at the world. Her gingery hair was a frizzy and stood out even in the dimness of evening, and she didn’t even seem to register as they passed by at a crawl.

Bendy knew Inky would have discouraged him from doing it, but as Mr. Ferguson stood in front of an employee near the entrance, loudly counting out the admission price for them to go into the museum, he approached the young woman.

“Oh! Hmm… hello,” the woman said upon noticing him. She wiped at one of her eyes hurriedly. “Can I help you with something?”

Bendy pulled out his notebook, wrote a message, and held it up to her.

The woman squinted to read in the lights along the front of the museum, “Why am I sad? Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make a scene here.” She darted a glance around, as if expecting to see a large audience. Except it was just her and Bendy. Everyone else simply kept walking past. The woman sighed and looked back at him, and at the message he continued to hold up. “I guess you could say I’m just being silly.”

Bendy wrote, “Why?”

In the background, Mr. Ferguson scratched his head as he looked at the bills in his hand. “A few dollars short,” he informed the young man near the entrance. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a whole pocketful of change.”

The woman hugged herself. “I forced my friend to take my place on a date, and then I wound up following them because I really should have gone instead.”

This information rang like little bells in his ears. He could practically hear Inky echoing his thoughts as he wrote, “With Andrew?”

The woman blinked in surprise. She stared at him as if anew, studying him up and down, and started to mutter, “Who are—” as Mr. Ferguson finished counting out the change into the palm of the clearly relieved admissions attendant. The landlord turned, “Hey, Benny, come on. Don’t you want to see how Audrey is doing on her date?”

“Benny?” the woman murmured, and her whole face lit up as she looked down at Bendy. They had never seen each other, but the recognition was clear on the woman’s face. “Then you must be…” she murmured, trailing off.

A little hesitant now, Bendy backed away.

“Wait, I didn’t mean to startle you. I should say, are you looking for Audrey?”

Bendy gazed at her earnest, hopeful expression, then scribbled a note that read, “You know Audrey?” which only made the woman’s face brighten further.

“My name is Marge,” the woman said, with a pleasant smile. “I work with Audrey at the studio, and I know where they’d be if you’re looking for them. But… oh, I don’t know.” She hugged herself. “It probably isn’t right to spy on them.”

“Nonsense,” Mr. Ferguson said. “That’s what we’re here for, so you might as well join the group, Ms. Marge. Especially since you seem to be all right with Benny here.”

She was all right with Bendy. Because he could remember what Audrey had told him about her friends—the ones she had thought should be together.

Now here was a way to help Audrey.

It was also just like another one of his books, in which Fluffy the Bunny had helped two lonely porcupines to find each other and live happily ever after. This situation felt exactly like that one.

Bendy grabbed Marge by the hand and tugged her along, although she did insist on pausing a few seconds to pay for her own admission to the museum.

***

His father had gone missing when Andrew was a young boy. He was just leaving for some business, he’d said, towards the final days of Joey Drew Studios. According to his mother, the physical studio at the time had kept getting taken over more and more by the Gent Corporation.

She had reported him missing at the local police department, but no sign of him had ever turned up, and so Andrew had grown up only knowing of his father’s disappearance as a great family mystery. For his mother was stalwart that Grant Cohen was not the kind of man to just run off and abandon his family.

Then, in high school, Andrew had stumbled across some of the newspapers his mother had used to wrap up some of his father’s old knickknacks, such as a nametag and a Newton’s Cradle. Things that would have been so ordinary if he hadn’t always associated them with his missing father. But what really got him thinking was that, as he started to peruse the newspapers, he noticed an unsettling pattern. Many people had gone missing around the same time as his father, and several of them had had connections to Joey Drew Studios and the Gent Corporation.

He’d become obsessed with finding out more about those patterns and searching for answers, but so far, he’d been frustrated at every turn. And before he knew it, several years had passed him by.

“Finally, I wound up returning to my original dream of working in animation, and I learned Margie was at Archgate Films,” Andrew finished, as they strolled through grand rooms filled with picturesque statutes and numerous other antiquities.

Audrey, meanwhile, explained that even though she had lived with her father in their small apartment as a child, she could only remember bits and pieces of those times.

Musing on this detail for a while, Andrew said, “So, a bit like amnesia, then? You went through something traumatic, and so you shut those memories away?”

“I guess you could put it that way,” Audrey replied. She wasn’t sure what else to call it, after all.

Around this time, they reached the exhibition hall, where hung on one wall behind a thick layer of glass was a large painting of what appeared to be a natural spring of dark, sparkling liquid. It was like gazing at the very essence of the starry night sky.

Several visitors flowed in and out of the hall to gaze upon the painting for a bit, then leave. But there was one tall, broad-shouldered, older gentleman in a battered, old coat and a hard-lined face staring at the painting as if he were a statute himself, clutching a workman’s hat in one hand.

“Ta-dah,” Andrew said, motioning at the scene.

Audrey gazed at the painting, and an inexplicable thrill went through her. “Wow, this is gorgeous, Andrew. I’d bet that if you told Marge how beautiful this painting was, she would agree to come with you to see it.”

However, Andrew sighed and stuck his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know, Audrey. Maybe I should just accept that I’ve blown it with her. I got too busy, and too much time has passed. It’s over.”

They stood in silence for a moment.

Then came the deep and gravelly voice of the older gentleman beside them. “Have you ever heard the story of the man who found the Spring of Dreams?”

While at first startled, Audrey was intrigued by the idea of learning the unique tale behind the painting. “No, how does it go?”

The older gentleman huffed softly. “It goes that a man happened to hear of a natural spring reputed to make wishes come true, flowing with some primordial substance from the dawn of the universe itself. Well, he found it on behalf of his employer, and began experimenting with a way to make it create whatever wonders he demanded of it. He struggled and went through many hardships, putting it through various processes, introducing chemicals, and churning it through any number of things, until he finally made a device capable of using it—but the substance did not do exactly what he had planned for it and even seemed to gain a life of its own.”

He paused here, and gave a sudden, juddering sigh. “He spent so much time trying to make it work, and to claim its wonders for his own, that he neglected what was the most precious to him in his life, including his wife, who eventually left him. Through various incidents, the device was taken away from him, and he couldn’t even get more from the Spring of Dreams, because it had completely dried up. His self-absorption and greed had completely ruined him.”

Audrey and Andrew stood there, as if waiting for the older gentleman to continue, or for him to at least offer some glimpse of a brighter twist in the man’s story, but he remained silent.

Andrew was the one to break the awkward stillness. “Huh. I got to admit, my good sir, I’d never heard anything like that before.” He managed a weak chortle, which got cut off as the older gentleman gave him a flinty glare.

“If you still have the chance to be with the one who is the most precious to you,” he said slowly but steadily, “you should do it. Don’t be like the man in the story.”

“Y-yes, sir,” Andrew stammered out, as the older gentleman turned and strode away.

Audrey and Andrew stood there in stunned silence, watching him, unsure of what to say. They saw the older gentleman step beyond the threshold to the exhibition hall and noticed someone nearly run right into him.

“Pardon,” he grumbled, nodded at her, and walked on past.

But Audrey and Andrew had both seen who he had almost run into.

“Margie!” Andrew shouted in incredulousness, at which Marge, face going red as a beet, started to stride away. “Pardon me, Audrey, I’ve got to go,” he said, hurrying off.

Audrey watched him go with a smile. So, Marge had followed them to the museum after all, and now Andrew was going after her—so, she thought, it was all’s well that ends well. Although, honestly, the saying had never meant much to her until then.

Then she heard, “Well, would you look at that? There goes her young man.”

Audrey strode to the doorway, and around the corner, there was…

“Mr. Ferguson!” she exclaimed. Her landlord stood there, looking unashamed.

“Chasing after someone like that is ridiculous,” Inky muttered. He was staring at Andrew from his reflection in the glass display case of a mural.

“I never thought I would hear you say that,” Audrey said as she approached, kneeling to receive a big hug from Bendy.

Inky growled, “You know what I mean, Audrey.”

“Do I?” Audrey chuckled. “Or maybe you mean the way you came after me here to the museum?”

“That was Bendy’s idea!”

“I’m sure it was,” Audrey replied, continued to chuckle as Inky grumbled. She looked at Bendy, “You must have been really worried about me to get Mr. Ferguson to bring you to the museum.”

Bendy pulled out his notebook and showed her one of its pages, “I promise to protect you forever.”

“Ah, Bendy, thank you,” Audrey said, stroking him between the horns. “Thank you both.” She nodded at Inky. “And I take it you had a hand in bringing Marge in here as well?” At this note, they looked down the hallway where Andrew had caught up with Marge, was clasping her hands, and was whispering to her—until he slipped an arm around her shoulder, and they walked away.

However, they did pause just long enough to glance back at them.

Audrey nodded and offered them a small wave, along with Bendy.

Then Andrew and Marge left.

Mr. Ferguson came over to pat Audrey consolingly on the shoulder. “Well, looks like he wasn’t the one for you. Don’t worry, Audrey, as the saying goes, ‘There are plenty of other fish in the sea.’ I hope you’re not too torn up about it.”

“Oh, I think I’ll get over it,” Audrey said, unable to contain her happiness. She gazed around the Met. “Since we’re here anyway, why don’t we go on our own little tour of the museum? What do you say?”

Bendy nodded, hopping up and down in excitement.

“Fine,” Inky grumbled.

“You must have had quite a walk to get here. Would you like me to carry you for a bit?” Audrey asked, already reaching to scoop up Bendy. However, he gently took her hand instead, squeezed it, and began to tug her along.

At this point, Mr. Ferguson excused himself. “If I start walking now, I can get back to the apartment before you do. Have fun.” He patted Audrey on the shoulder again, then sauntered away.

So, the evening went from one where Audrey had to rush to go on an unexpected date, to one where she, Bendy, and Inky traveled from one spacious room to the next in a massive building, enjoying various types of art pieces, sculptures, and other exhibits. Audrey sometimes read the descriptions for certain pieces to Bendy and Inky, and she would do her best to explain what she knew about the eras from where they came—which clearly boggled Bendy’s ever-growing understanding of the Real World.

They returned home quite late. Still, it turned out there was one last thing to do before they turned in for the night. As Bendy wrote out in his notebook, “Inky lost at checkers, so now he must read one of my books.”

Which was how, as they prepared for bed, Inky read to them the full story of how Fluffy the Bunny brought together the lonely porcupines. Bendy sniffled at hearing the part about their heartwarming introduction to each other, and Audrey smiled, remembering the way Andrew and Marge had looked back at the museum as they left together.

It might have just been her imagination, but Audrey thought she detected a quiver of emotion when Inky read through the scene in its entirety—although it could have just been her imagination. Besides that, Inky snorted and claimed it was a silly story.

Regardless, all of them soon fell into a deep and easy sleep.

And Audrey dreamed of exploring brightly lit hallways occupied by wonders, with starry streams gurgling through them like ravines amid a vast forest.

Chapter Text

Even when locked in a cell by the Keepers for ages, without any outside interactions, Henry had vowed he would never talk to the walls. It was the kind of thing he had heard Sammy do frequently, in the cell around the corner from his—as if that lunatic was preaching to a whole host of Lost Ones waiting for “their lord” to come and set them free. Despite being in a fresh Cycle, when such things had never technically happened, the memory still stuck in his mind.

The fact Henry was now spending a considerable amount of time communicating with the walls on the first floor sometimes tickled him in a sad and twisted way. In his defense, he knew someone was listening and responding to his questions. At least he wasn’t insane. And it was still true despite being unable to classify Wandering in any definite way aside from “the voices of the Dark Puddles,” and possibly a "representation of the Ink Machine itself."

Going out of his way to interact with such a being would have been unheard of for him, once upon a time. He would have turned and run for safety immediately.

But Wandering had helped Audrey. They were responsible for the golden ink, which—when he thought about it—meant they had also likely been the ones to show Henry the way out of the cell in which Tom and Allison had kept him in other Cycles. Allison had been right when she theorized the writings were from those whose voices would have otherwise gone unheard. Those voices drowned in The Ink.

Lonely, and scared.

Just like he had been. Just like he still was, sometimes—although it was easier now that he had actual friends. Ones he could keep. And, somehow, now that he could slow down and had the opportunity to explore what secrets lay at the heart of the studio, for the sake of keeping those friends safe, Henry knew he couldn’t pass up this chance to learn what he could from Wandering, and maybe ease their suffering a bit. It was a safe first step.

Wandering was a tangle of agonized souls. Their tones and personalities alternated during longer conversations. What helped was getting them to concentrate one specific topic at a time, and constantly redirecting them back to it whenever they got distracted and began to drift away—which got progressively worse as they grew tired (so the sessions never lasted too long).

The latest topic Henry had tried was Ink Harmony Park. Wandering seemed to be surprisingly energetic about it.

“What do you think of Tom’s new hardware store?” he asked, holding up the Seeing Tool to gaze around the front room in which he usually received Audrey’s letters. The golden messages tended to appear all over the place, although Wandering seemed to keep them within his immediate range, and unlike in the past, old messages would get replaced by new ones.

It took a minute to find the response. “We like the hardware store very much. It makes us feel nice and warm.”

“That’s a good thing, right?” Henry asked.

Another two minutes passed, and a reply manifested above the projection screen. “Correct. Warmth makes us feel good. Makes us feel alive. We can remember warmth. The sun. We can almost remember parks.”

“How can you almost remember parks?”

“Pieces of memories.” The message appeared nearly instantaneously this time, beside an old Bendy cartoon poster. “Visions of moments spent in parks. Maybe the same park. Maybe different. With souls not in The Ink. Young and old souls.” Golden ink dripped from the letters of the last few words like tears.

There came the sound of a hatchway opening in a room down the hall. Henry saw Allison poke her head around the doorframe, instinctively checking out the situation first despite the peace that had reigned on the first floor throughout this Cycle. It was a habit honed over many years and at least two recalled Cycles, and Allison probably didn’t even think about taking such a precaution. He also couldn’t blame her for it.

“Here.” Henry waved her over with his free hand, while still scanning the walls with the Seeing Tool in case Wandering made another comment.

Meanwhile, Allison gazed at the sketches he had hung across the walls, and a smile tweaked her lips. “You know, Henry, you should open a place to teach art to the Lost Ones, like you are teaching art to Bendy. They would love it, I’m sure.”

“Audrey said the same thing, and I plan to—eventually,” Henry said. “I want to figure out Wandering first.”

“Have you made any progress so far?”

Henry showed Allison the response to his last question about Ink Harmony park through the Seeing Tool. “The Dark Puddles contain the minds of all the souls lost in them, mixed together until they forget their individual identities.” He still shuddered at the memory of it, feeling like his mind was about to split apart before gasping out of The Ink at the base of various Bendy statutes. “But I think some of them are beginning to remember things from their past lives—from before they came to be in the studio.”

Allison frowned. “You mean from before the experiments that Gent did.” Her tone was solemn, and Henry could practically see the images flashing before her mind’s eye. She had told him about the rooms near Wilson’s Manor, in which forms had laid under ink-stained cloths, while a cassette player nearby held the recording of a soul saying he had signed up to become a research subject for some type of test or experiment done by Gent for some extra funds—except he was the one who had wound up paying instead, with his life.

“Exactly,” Henry replied. He sighed. “However, several of them can remember having gone to a park, or perhaps to a couple of parks. And I think it’s because of what Audrey started by creating Ink Harmony Park, and what all of us have been doing by adding to it. Some of them might be able to remember pizzerias, and hardware stores, and general stores. It’s sparking memories. I think that’s why they’re becoming more active. They’re… well… warming up.”

He sighted the hint of more golden letters on the floor, at the edge of his Seeing Tool. “One moment,” Henry murmured, and Allison looked over his shoulder as examined the next message.

“Not just research subjects,” Wandering wrote. “Others too.”

“Others?” Allison looked confused. “What do you mean?”

At this question there came the sudden harsh clanking of ink through the pipes on all sides, so loud and strenuous that it made them both jump. They wound up back-to-back as the invisible lights of the room flickered, and Henry thought he even saw one or two walls heave slightly outwards like a chest before depressing inwards.

While this pandemonium took place, Henry spotted more golden letters appearing amid the shadows, all around them. He read them aloud to Allison, shouting to be heard about the cacophony. “Not just research subjects. Workers from Joey Drew Studios. Business associates. Reporters.” The next line came in one long winding stretch that seemed to wrap around the walls of the room and around them like chains. “ANYONE WHO POKED THEIR NOSES IN THE WRONG PLACE AT THE WRONG TIME AND GOT IN THE WAY AND ASKED TOO MANY QUESTIONS AND WOULDN’T LEAVE WELL ENOUGH ALONE AND WERE BETTER OFF DEAD THAN ALIVE! ALL DROWNED IN THE INK. ALL FORCE-FED TO THE MACHINE.”

The words looked like they were being shouted. Henry could feel them shudder through his entire being. He heard Allison shout behind him, and then heard a harsh bark of command echo from down the hall. Given everything that was happening, Henry would later find it intriguing how Tom tore into the room among all the shadows with such strength. He came bearing a wrench, which he hurled forcefully at one of the ballooning walls.

Then it was like a spell had been broken. The golden words simply shattered along with the darkness, and the setting grew calm again. And as the wrench clattered onto the floor, both Henry and Allison collapsed to their knees—although Tom was beside Allison right away, helping her to reach her feet.

Allison was gasping, and so was Henry. It had almost felt as if the Dark Puddles were creeping into the room, swallowing them up.

Now all was silent.

“I know, Tom,” Allison was saying as Tom checked her over with a stern look on his face. “You’re chastising me for messing around with things I shouldn’t have again.”

Henry noticed the hard look Tom gave him as well and raised a hand defensively. “I didn’t realize that would happen. Wandering has been calm and sleepy when answering my questions until now. Speaking of which…” He scanned the room with the Seeing Tool and discovered that all the golden ink messages had disappeared, leaving empty walls.

“It is probably the same throughout this floor,” Allison whispered, as if worried about disturbing the stillness. “They’ve likely erased everything they have written.”

“Wandering?” Henry asked. Then, when he realized he had whispered as well, he raised his voice when repeating the name. He continued to scan the room. Nothing appeared, but he thought that just for a second he heard a low moaning from the walls that died away, followed by an aggrieved slosh somewhere close to a sob.

Tom kept a protective arm around Allison’s shoulders.

Henry, however, approached the wall that the wrench had struck. He placed his hand against the wood, fingers sprawled. “What happened was terrifying,” he murmured, “but I don’t think Wandering meant to hurt us.” He paused, turned, and gestured for Allison to do the same thing.

At first, Tom held her back, but Allison placed a hand on his metal arm, briefly, and gazed into his eyes. “Don’t worry, Tom. I’ll be more careful this time.” She gently pulled away and placed her hand on the wall beside Henry. Closing her eyes, she took a moment to feel the vibrations humming away in the walls, the soft sloshes, and the moans. Almost too faint to hear, so Allison placed her ear right up against the wood.

Henry muttered, “Are they doing what I think they’re doing?”

“Yes, I think they are,” Allison replied, her tone sorrowful. “They’re crying.” They stood there, listening to the sounds born out of so much despair and tragedy.

What did you say to anyone hurting that much? Henry had been through terrible things during the countless Cycles he’d been in the studio, endured any number of terrors, and feared for his life at almost every turn until recently. All those souls trapped in The Ink, embodied by Wandering, had perished several times over, had had their identities smashed apart and stitched together in painful amalgams, and who knew what other tortures. Now they were remembering things, which likely brought them a great deal of agony in addition to the happiness of reclaiming them.

A thought occurred to him.

“Allison,” Henry breathed. “Sing your song to them. Audrey said she calmed them down by humming a melody.”

After a few seconds of gently caressing the wall with one hand, Allison nodded and said, “Of course,” then proceeded to sing the same song she had performed in Ink Harmony Park. The one about coming together to move ahead into the future. Her voice echoed through the room, and the first floor. The sound seemed to resonate in the walls, and it was if Henry could imagine that little Bendy-like figure somewhere getting embraced by the very notes themselves.

Once Allison finished, everything fell into silence again, and they stood there waiting for a response—if any.

“Maybe they fell asleep,” Allison said. “They already must have been exhausted.”

However, when Henry made a quick check of the room, a new message appeared across one wall. “Thank you. You sing beautifully.”

“You’re welcome.” Allison blushed with obvious pride.

“You should perform on a stage,” Wandering said through another note, placed right underneath the first.

At this idea, Allison’s expression lit up. “Oh yes,” she turned to Henry. “One reason I came up here was because I have an idea for a new building that should help bring the community together and make their voices heard in a new way.”

“What’s that?” Henry asked.

“A theater!” Allison declared. “I know there is a movie theater in the city, but it’s more like an overcrowded storage space for old car parts and other miscellaneous objects than an actual theater. We could build one in Ink Harmony Park that allows everyone to use the stage, but then also pull down a screen for movies. What do you think?”

Tom grunted at the mention of the movie theater, and Allison sighed. “Yes, Tom, I know we wouldn’t have a great range of films to show.”

“Nothing except old Bendy cartoons.” Henry shook his head.

The wall creaked nearby, and acting on a hunch, he lifted the Seeing Tool.

“We could show other things…” Wandering had written.

“How?” Henry asked.

“We would need help from The Projectionist.”

At this name, Allison and Tom scratched their heads. Apparently, they hadn’t come across the inky figure with the projector for a head during the last Cycle, and—now that Henry thought about it—they had yet to see him this Cycle.

“Where did that guy go?” Henry asked.

“He met with misfortune,” Wandering wrote. “We can show you where he rests.”

Henry, Allison, and Tom exchanged glances.

“I think we should give it a try,” Allison said, sounding hopeful. “This Projectionist deserves a second chance as well, so come on.”

With that said, they followed a series of golden ink arrows from Wandering through the hatchway, along the winding halls, and down a couple of staircases, until they reached a final set of stairs just beyond a door that had always been locked in past Cycles.

It led right into a lounge, or at least the remains of one. The ceiling had caved in, spilling debris and ink across shattered bits of armchairs, a couch, and a pool table. And right in the middle of all the wreckage was The Projectionist, the film reels atop his projector head fizzing sparks alongside the cords coming out of the back of it.

The Projectionist tilted his head upwards at sensing them, the lens of the projector focusing and refocusing. Then he released an angry screech and tried to rise, reaching out for them.

Tom growled and held his wrench at the ready. Allison held him back, though, opting for the most diplomatic route. “It’s okay,” she told The Projectionist. “We just want to help you,” she continued, indicating the film reels, stepping closer—only to leap back when The Projectionist lurched forward and swiped at her.

Another creak of the wall. Henry checked it with the Seeing Tool.

“We are sending you a gift, Henry, to transfer to The Projectionist,” Wandering wrote, “Touch the wall here.” A golden handprint appeared.

Henry touched it without thinking, but instantly strange images flickered through his head. Overwhelming images that blurred past and reminded him altogether too much of being lost in the Dark Puddles, except without sound.

An echoing voice made up of so many other voices spoke in his head. “Touch your hand to The Projectionist’s Head, as quickly as you can.” For a moment, between one vision and the next, Henry thought he saw the image of a Bendy in a suit and with strange, glowing red eyes—Wandering. But he couldn’t dwell on it. His head was hurting too much.

“Tom, Allison,” Henry gasped out, “you’ll need to restrain him for a moment.”

His friends worked seamlessly, without so much as exchanging a word, each one grabbing a side of The Projectionist as he thrashed about and sought to get free.

Henry stepped forward and gripped The Projectionist’s head.

Instantly, the flood of images and voices left Henry’s mind. The lens on The Projectionist’s projector burst into light, and he let out a final screech before he fell silent, his head drooping as if he had passed out.

Henry stepped back and flopped onto a sofa cushion, so dizzy he half thought he would pass out himself. However, he remained alert enough to assure Allison and Tom that he would be fine. He just needed a minute to catch his breath, and for the world to stop spinning.

He was still recovering when The Projectionist lifted his head again, regarding them anew with the lends of his projector head. His head cocked slightly, as if in bewilderment at having visitors. He made odd little whirling noises that sounded inquiring.

Allison approached him again, but this time he appeared far more hesitant and drew away from her. She had to console him for a while before he would allow her to get close. “What did Wandering do?” Allison asked, laying a hand on The Projectionist’s shoulder. He winced.

“Wandering says that 'We shared our… understanding with him,’” Henry read the latest message. “'We helped him to recognize you as non-hostiles. He has only ever attacked or fought back against attackers, until now.’ Well, then," Henry said, tucking away the Seeing Tool, “I guess that means he’s on our side now.”

Allison called Tom over to examine The Projectionist’s head, which took more coaxing, since he appeared to be even more intimidated by Tom with his stern demeanor and the intensity of his stare. Eventually, though, he let Tom inspect his workings—and with a curt grunt, Tom reached into his pockets for various tools to do the repairs.

Everyone else took a breather in the meantime, watching the process, until Tom gave a final twist of his wrench and readjusted one of the film reels, which then began to turn. The Projectionist’s lens lit up, and on the opposite wall, a scene appeared of what appeared to Ink Harmony Park. Then they started to notice the passersby, really looked closely at the trees, and glimpsed the surrounding city.

“Oh my, where is that?” Allison gasped in awe.

An implanted memory came to his assistance. “Central Park,” Henry murmured. “It must have come from one or more of Wandering’s recollections.

“And those puffy things drifting through the sky?” Allison asked.

“Clouds,” Henry pointed them out, “and those smaller flying creatures are called ‘birds.’”

Even Tom appeared engrossed in the scene. He put an arm around Allison’s shoulders, and Henry could tell they were all thinking the same thing. The film showings at their community theater were going to be extraordinary.

***

Hours later, The Projectionist rested in the break room on the first floor, in a bed that they had helped to assemble for him—where he could relax and stay while the theater was under construction. He had seemed as worn as the rest of them after all the commotion.

Henry was worn as well.

But he still had some things on his mind.

So, after Allison and Tom had left for the floors below, Henry returned to the front room on the first floor. “Hey, Wandering, are you doing all right?” He carefully scanned the walls with the Seeing Tool.

“Yes, Henry,” Wandering wrote. “A little tired.”

“I’ve got to say that you really helped out.”

“We are still sorry. We are a mess.”

Henry sighed as he sat in a chair. “I think all of us are a bit of a mess here in the studio, honestly,” he said. “It’s inevitable, but things truly seem to be getting better. I would never have believed it, but Audrey and the others have made me believe it.” There was silence for a while, as he thought about what they had been through this Cycle, with all its wonderful developments.

But then he recalled a recent conversation with Audrey, and her mention of Wilson’s library.

His expression grew grave. “Wandering, can you still talk for a while?”

“A short while,” Wandering confessed.

“What can you tell me about Wilson’s Manor?”

And then Henry had another conversation with the walls.

No, not with the walls…

He had another conversation with Wandering.

Just as he would with any of his other companions.

Chapter Text

Audrey opened her father’s sketchbook that evening to find a long and winding letter from Henry that described a whole series of events, including plans for a community theater in Ink Harmony Park and the recruitment of The Projectionist, who had somehow already earned the odd nickname of “Norman.”

She smiled while reading the letter—especially when Henry mentioned his growing companionship with Wandering—and sighed in content at the enthusiasm her friends were showing at improving their home. The Ink World was blossoming thanks to everyone’s efforts, and Ink Harmony Park proved what they could achieve together even over a matter of weeks. There was still a great deal to accomplish, but Audrey was feeling pretty good about the whole undertaking.

For her part, she had started to renovate the nearby cityscape, Lost City. She cleared debris from the streets, refurbished the businesses, and then worked on filling out the interiors of those businesses with merchandise appropriate to the goods indicated by their straightened signs. Soon enough, Lost City had gained “Top Groceries,” an actual marketplace where inhabitants could go and purchase various renewable ingredients off the shelves, a pharmacy that focused on health supplies, and even the hotel.

Coordinating with Henry, who had spoken over the matter with the others, Lost Ones had been found to manage the shops. And the “City of Broken Dreams” was gaining a new life of its own. Little by little, it was turning into a “City of Renewed Hopes.”

Then she heard the humming. It was low and melodic, wafting through the air like a stray echo.

Soon afterwards, whistling began to accompany the humming.

Neither sound had ever been heard by her in the apartment.

Audrey wished Henry goodnight, closed the sketchbook, and quietly left her room. Bendy was drawing another version of Fluffy the Bunny at the table, while Inky was rereading one of his monster books. They were whistling and humming absentmindedly together. It was a nice scene, especially since the two of them were still so often at odds in little ways. But her own curiosity couldn’t help getting piqued by the music.

“Ah, that’s a pretty melody you two,” Audrey said as she passed the kitchen table on her way to pour herself a cup of coffee.

Bendy paused in mid-toot, as if surprised to realize what he had been just doing. Then he beamed at the compliment.

Inky, meanwhile, simply snorted. “Blame that persistent, bothersome song from my realm.”

“You mean the one Allison sang at the opening of Ink Harmony Park?”

“The Dark Puddles have been carrying on with that same infuriating tune for hours now,” he grumbled, rubbed at his head with one claw. “I keep hearing them, and I feel warm all over... and good.”

Audrey spooned sugar into her coffee and poured in a bit of cream. She asked, “Well, isn’t that wonderful?”

“My realm is changing, Audrey. Fragments of it are intermingling, coming together. Like a puzzle.” His tone was soft for a change and filled with wonder. “The Dark Puddles are shifting, forming memories, thoughts, and goals of their own. I can hear and feel them. It was never that way when I roamed my realm. They were full of blind pain, just like me. Our agonies intermingled almost seamlessly. They filled my senses with their intolerable pleas and agonies. I fought to retain my own purposes and identity. I would direct them, and they responded to me. I was their only mercy. I did my best to give them meaning.”

Bendy had set aside his drawing and was listening to Inky, offering his full attention.

“I see visions in my head at night,” Inky rasped. “Strange, tangled visions. I rarely slept in my realm. Now I do, and what I see is unfathomable.” He gurgled low in his throat. “And now The Dark Puddles are responding to others and developing. We are connected but separated. They are fluctuating and singing, but I can still hear and feel them. I tingle all over, and now such sensations are making me hum. I do not understand it. Why am I humming?”

Audrey considered the situation. She had been so pleased at the latest developments taking place in The Ink World that she hadn’t paused to consider how they were affecting Inky. Nothing seemed to have changed much in his attitude, albeit his vocabulary had grown thanks to the books, and he had held several conversations with Bendy and herself without snarling at any point. Of course, now that she really considered it, Audrey supposed he had gotten a bit quieter since the time she had gotten sick.

Inky could have been guarding his true thoughts and emotions, but another possibility slipped to the forefront—that he had been reflecting on the changes and was trying to figure out how best to react to them, without panicking.

“You know what I think?” She drew closer to the mirror, while also stroking Bendy between the horns. “I believe you’re humming because you’re in a good mood.”

“A ‘good mood?’” Inky grumbled in puzzlement.

“You’re happy.”

“Happy…”

Bendy wrote in his notebook, “Just like me!” with a huge smile on his face.

“It’s no wonder you were whistling, Bendy,” Audrey remarked. “You should do that more often. It was wonderful. And that humming, Inky, was—”

“I could never savor being that ignorant!” Inky roared, so loudly the glass of the mirror appeared to rattle.

Bendy frowned in confusion. Apparently, “ignorant” was one of the words Inky knew but Bendy didn’t. Additionally, although the little guy seemed to suspect he had just been criticized in some way. He started to write a retort in his notebook, but then he paused—because perhaps he had detected the harsh bitterness in Inky’s voice as well. So, he crossed out the words.

Inky noticed. “Now even Bendy is pitying me.”

Bendy picked up his notebook again. He carefully wrote out a response, “No. I understand.”

“You could not understand,” Inky snapped back. “I have glimpsed your mind, and I would not want you to understand.”

It was probably the most considerate thing Audrey had ever heard Inky say to Bendy, in not wanting the cartoonish imp to share the same torturous knowledge that he still lived with even while in the Real World.

Audrey sank onto a chair. She gazed at the coffee cup held between her hands, drawing comfort from its heat. “It’s all right to be upset and sad. You have every right to feel that way about what you have been through. However,” here she raised her gaze towards Inky, “that doesn’t mean you can never be happy, or that you don’t deserve to look forward to a better future.”

Inky grumbled, “You are like Bendy. You would never say those infuriating, ignorant things if you knew what I know, or if you had been through what I have been through. You understand nothing.”

There was a lengthy silence, then. Bendy fidgeted in his chair, glancing between them.

At last, Audrey sighed. “You’re right,” she admitted. “I could never imagine exactly what you’ve been through. In fact, before a few months ago, I would never have fathomed that something like The Ink Machine could exist in this world, or that my father could have used it to create me as his daughter.” She gazed at the ceiling, as if trying to see into those vague memories from the past. “Sometimes I wonder just how much my father influenced who I am now. That is, did I become who I am because of my own experiences and decisions, or because he wanted me to be a certain way?”

The final question slipped out of her lips unbidden. Audrey hadn’t even registered it had been there, somewhere in her mind, until that moment. But now the words hung in the atmosphere like smoke that refused to disperse.

Bendy slipped off his chair and came over to her. He whistled the tune from earlier, softly.

Audrey managed a smile, just a little one, and helped him onto her lap, where they simply held each other quietly.

“Joey Drew is gone,” Inky rasped suddenly. When he spoke next, it was slowly and with great care, as if he were struggling to find the right words. “You have developed beyond him. If he could not control who I am, he could not control who you are, Audrey. You are too powerful. Just like me.”

“Oh, Inky…” Audrey murmured.

“I guess you are naturally filled with irritating warmth, like Bendy. You spread it around.”

Bendy perked up at this statement, a grin expanding across his face.

Inky pressed on, “If you did not do that, something would be wrong.”

“Oh, Inky…” Audrey repeated, feeling her eyes mist over.

“Wait, why are you crying?” Inky sounded bewildered. He probably was. “You should not be crying.”

“Because I’m so happy,” Audrey chuckled, wiping at her eyes.

“That makes no sense. How can you cry when you are happy? You should cry when you are sad or terrified,” Inky growled, and then the growling deepened. “Great, now Bendy is crying and smiling. I do not understand.”

“There are a lot of things that seem impossible, but they’re true,” Audrey replied. “You know, I think you’re right, Inky. Regardless of how I started out, I am my own person. Just like you.”

“I was not speaking of myself.”

“It’s true, though. You’ve grown a lot since we left The Ink World together, and so has Bendy.” Here, she tapped Bendy on his nonexistent nose, causing him to erupt into laughter. Then Bendy reached up and did the same thing.

One gesture led to another, until a full-on tickle fight was in progress. Bendy was squeaking, Audrey was laughing, and Inky started to quiver, more and more, until suddenly there erupted throaty guffaws that seemed to echo in their heads and jingle right down their spines in a ticklish fashion, which only made them all laugh harder.

Audrey wasn’t sure if it was just the energy of the moment, or maybe her proximity to Bendy and Inky, but she could feel warmth swelling that reminded her of the sensations Inky said he was experiencing from The Ink World. In the same spirit, she hummed the tune from earlier.

Bendy started to whistle along.

Finally, in halting embarrassment at first, Inky hummed as well.

They wound up falling asleep on the couch that night, with Bendy in Audrey's arms while, in a mirrored reflection nearby, Inky watched over them for a while before curling up and drifting off himself.

Chapter Text

Henry stepped free from the ink fountain and into the room with a windowed view of Lost City. He went to the polished glass and peered down at the street below, where Lost Ones milled about from one shop to the next or headed further up the way towards Ink Harmony Park. They were murmuring among themselves and apparently discussing the various goods for sale. Like normal people leading their own lives.

He had once thought he understood normality. That definition had included being able to walk along city streets without fearing violence from everyone he came across, and perhaps then being able to hold a civil conversation with most of them. The problem was this concept came from implanted memories about the world beyond The Ink Machine. A place he had never actually visited. It had caused another swift but brutal adjustment in his worldview to realize the state of the studio had always been terrible.

Nowadays, though, life had shifted in the other direction back to what he had at first believed should be the natural state of things. If he walked down the stairs from the room where he was standing, Henry knew he could stroll on past fellow studio residents, the Lost Ones, without fearing them.

It was remarkable. A miracle.

It was also fragile.

Much too fragile.

If Gent were as persistent as Henry knew them to be from his brushes with Wilson and the Keepers, or from the notes and recordings he had come across amid countless Cycles, they would seek out some way to reclaim The Ink Machine and carry on with whatever Wilson had been in the middle of before his ousting. Audrey seemed to believe they had nothing more to worry about, and that their world was now safe forever, but Henry couldn’t help wondering just how long the security might last.

A wall nearby creaked to indicate Wandering had something to say. Henry pulled out his Seeing Tool and pointed to a spot above a recently placed sign with the quote, “A City Reborn With Hopes and Dreams.”

Golden Letters had appeared that read, “The train will arrive soon.”

“Good. Thanks, Wandering,” Henry said. “Then I’d better get down there soon.”

More golden lettering replaced the first message. “Why did you not tell the others?” Wandering asked.

Henry gazed out the window towards Ink Harmony Park, where he knew Allison, Tom, and everyone else were well into the construction of the community theater. He had handled the general design and layout, and Tom had begun to direct his crew of Lost Ones to realize the project. They were so efficient, in fact, that Henry sometimes felt just a bit in the way of their progress.

“No,” he muttered more to himself than Wandering, “it’s best to let them work without any interruptions. Besides, you mentioned the person due to get off the train seemed harmless enough.”

When Wandering had mentioned there was someone living at Wilson’s Manor, Henry hadn’t known what to think. To be honest, he still didn’t. Just that whoever it was might be the key to learning more about the full extent of Wilson’s plans in conjunction with Gent, and perhaps could help him gain access to the library as well. But Wandering had been unable to share much else, since the mere thought of concentrating their attention anywhere near the manor or the Old Gent Workshop instantly seemed to make Wandering shut down altogether.

All Henry knew was that this individual liked to get off the train, would sometimes walk up to the room in which he was now standing, and then—after a while—catch a train ride back to the manor. Back and forth. Never interacting with anyone. Seeming eager to avoid notice.

But Wandering had of course noticed.

Even so, Henry had slipped a wrench into his back pocket for easy access, just in case of hostilities. He was also sure that if worse came to worse, Wandering would find a good way to contact the others with Norman’s help. Since his rescue, in fact, Henry had come to learn there was a whole other side to The Projectionist—one that enjoyed projecting movies of wildflowers and natural scenery, while also sharing what he had recorded of his walks around the first floor. And he was constantly exploring drawers and closets, as if fascinated by the fact he could reveal new scenes or pockets of space that way.

Well, it was now or never.

Striding down the corridor on the same floor, Henry turned right through an opened door, and reached the bottom of the steps just as he heard the train pulling into the station. He peered around the doorway, watching as the doors along the side of the train opened.

A figure stepped out.

It was a woman in a dark skirt and a strapless beige top, with a black choker around her neck and a bob haircut. A wooden mask with dark eye sockets covered her face.

The breath caught in Henry’s throat. His original plan had been to wait until the train sped away before making his approach, but somehow the train seemed to disappear from his notice. It was odd what those implanted memories of his could do even after all this time. They could still seize ahold of him unawares, and he always had to mentally shake and remind himself of who he was as opposed to who he had believed himself to be for decades.

Still, the thought remained that he knew Linda had had a bob haircut as well—in his ever-fainter memories of her.

The figure jerked when she noticed Henry step into the open doorway. “Oh, oh my,” she said, retreating a step. “I didn’t expect to see anyone here. Oh dear, oh dear.” It was obvious she was wishing for the train to come back, for it had indeed sped away, and she withdrew another step.

Henry finally shook free of his nostalgia. “Wait, don’t be afraid. I just want to talk.” He stepped into the subway station, his shoes echoing on the tiled floor.

“What would you wish to speak with me about?” the figure asked. “I’m only a simple housekeeper. Oh, and a terrible one at that, I think.” She seemed wrapped in her own thoughts, backing away a bit more until, Henry realized with a start, she had come to the very edge of the train platform. “I don’t want to make a fuss, even though I do so appreciate the company…”

She inched back further, then began to tumble backwards, crying out in alarm.

Further along the way, there came the sound of another train rumbling along the tracks.

Henry flowed right to the spot, grabbed ahold of her, and yanked backwards. The train shot past them at high speeds on its tracks, not stopping this time but clearly on the way to some other destination. It was clearly a train built by Gent, he thought—right before he made a mental note to ask Audrey to examine the railway system during their next conversation. It might just become a valuable resource for getting around the studio as they kept making improvements.

For the time being, Henry was more concerned with the woman in front of him. They were both panting, trying to calm down after the fright they had just undergone. He took a last, steadying breath and released it, and realized he was still holding her by the arm. It was soft, like his arm, rather than wooden like he had almost expected it to feel after glimpsing the mask.

“Sorry,” he said, releasing her. “I moved without thinking.”

The woman studied him, and then proceeded to smooth out her skirt. “If you hadn’t, I’d have probably been in horrible shape about now. Thanking you would be the most appropriate thing to do, I believe.” She curtsied. “Thank you.”

“I’m Henry.”

“My name is Betty.” She paused, seeming at a bit of a loss. “I am sorry. It has been a while since I’ve spoken to anybody. I must have seemed dreadfully rude a moment ago when you addressed me.”

“Oh no,” Henry was quick to say. “I could have done things a bit differently.”

“You said you wished to speak with me?”

The reason for coming down to the subway in the first place took this opportunity to prod him, but he decided to do his best to ease into that specific conversation. “I heard you tend to come here sometimes, all by yourself, and I became curious to know who you are.” All these points were true.

“I didn’t realize I had been noticed.” Betty wrung her hands. “I have always been so careful not to draw too much attention to myself.”

“Why?”

“I don’t think anyone would care much for someone like me.” Betty sighed. “But I do like to come and peer out at the city, and at all the people moving about. The place is filling with life, nice and tidy. I enjoy that.”

Well, Henry liked to gaze out at Lost City, and it seemed like a good place to take their conversation. So, he offered to accompany her upstairs.

Betty, he was quick to discover, had lived at the manor for as long as she could remember. She could remember having been the housekeeper for Wilson, who had tended to spend many hours working down in his laboratory, browsing the books in the library, or holding meetings with his Keepers. She also remembered Audrey as a kindhearted young woman who had almost used her pet Gibson fish as an ingredient for a sleeping draught and ventured into Lost City for some groceries. Then there had been some point where Audrey had gone to see Wilson in his laboratory, and Betty had heard an uproarious commotion underfoot while making dinner.

She had decided to do something Wilson had often prohibited her from doing. That is, Betty had descended to the laboratory and come across utter chaos. And Henry couldn’t help but agree. The sight of Audrey absorbed into The Ink Demon to create a hulking ink beast that smashed through doors, followed by the Lost Ones that The Ink Demon had sought to use in stopping Audrey from reaching The End and restarting the Cycle, had been utter chaos.

Betty had heard Audrey calling out, and out of concern for their guest, she had discreetly used one of the side passages in the walls to follow the ruckus until she had reached a place that let out into a room with a projector set up. She happened to peer into the room just as the ink beast had grabbed and aimed the projector at its face.

And then… she was back in the manor, and everything was back to normal—except Wilson was nowhere to be found, the Keepers seemed to have vanished, and even all traces of The Ink Demon were gone. It had been silent and still for the longest time.

She still wasn’t sure exactly what had happened, so Henry did his best to explain the situation since then. Betty listened calmly as Henry spoke of Audrey passing into the world beyond The Ink Machine with The Ink Demon sealed away inside Bendy, and of all their efforts to make things better for the inhabitants of the studio during this Cycle.

“I see,” Betty murmured, in a level little voice once Henry had finished. “I suppose Wilson will never come back, then.”

“He’s gone,” Henry assured her. “And so is The Ink Demon.”

“I guess I’ll have the manor all to myself from now on…”

“You are the owner of the manor this Cycle, it would seem,” Henry replied. He said it to be encouraging, since Betty had appeared distressed whenever she brought up Wilson. As if even she were terrified of him.

Instead of relief, though, Betty rose to her feet, and he heard sadness intermingle with thoughtfulness when she stated, “Maybe I should get going for now. I have a lot to think about, after all.” She curtsied politely to him. “It was nice to meet you, Henry. I loved having your company, and please do give my best to Audrey.”

“Wait a minute,” Henry got up as well, “I’ll walk you to the station.”

On the way there, he asked if they might meet again, and Betty hesitated as they heard the train arrive. Henry was still waiting for her response while she stepped towards the train, but then she seemed to reach a quick decision right as she stepped onto the train and before the doors slid shut.

“I think I should like that very much,” Betty said.

Henry watched the train leave, and he climbed the steps back up to the room that overlooked Lost City. A smile tweaked his lips as he gazed down at the crowded street below.

Then a wall creaked nearby, and he lifted the Seeing Tool.

“We thought you wanted to speak about Wilson’s library, and similar matters,” Wandering had written.

Henry realized, in that moment, that he had gotten distracted. Very distracted. He could have kicked himself. But then he took heart and said, “Well, it’s only our first meeting.”

He was right. Over the days that followed, they wound up having several meetings. Wandering would alert Henry to when the train with Betty on it was about to arrive, and Henry would use the ink fountain to quickly travel to the station and meet up with her. And since they had gotten the introductions out of the way, and Henry had gotten Betty updated on current events in the studio, their conversations could progress from there.

They spoke about the gradual improvements to the studio, the letters that Henry had written and received from Audrey, and the buildings that were filling Ink Harmony Park. Betty wanted to hear about everything, and Henry found more than a few of their meetings dominated more by simply discussing the possibilities of what they might build next.

Meanwhile, Betty tended to avoid volunteering anything about herself.

“Why do you wear that mask?” Henry asked her at one point. “It is a mask, right?”

Betty touched her fingers to its wooden surface. “Yes, it is,” she admitted. “I… have always worn this mask. I can only guess that I am quite ugly to need one; however, I hardly think about it anymore. It is just a part of me. I feel more comfortable with it in place.”

Henry recognized a subtle hint to let the topic slide and moved on. “I haven’t met anyone like you before. There are my companions, such as Allison, Tom, and Buddy,” he confessed, “and there are the Lost Ones.” He paused, thinking of the creaks in the walls and reaching back for his Seeing Tool. “And then there is—”

“Oh, Wilson made me.”

Henry forgot about the Seeing Tool. “Wilson did?” A thought occurred to him, “In his laboratory, right?”

Betty nodded. “According to Wilson, I was something quite new. An experiment to prove he could create life, just as he created the Keepers—although I can tell you that they were terrible conversationalists, and quite dangerous.”

“You don’t need to tell me that.” Henry’s fingers curled into fists. “I know Wilson was responsible for creating monsters.” His tone was cold and bitter, as his mind rewound to their conquest of the studio and all the havoc they had wrecked.

“I suppose I am the same, if I was created by Wilson,” Betty murmured, so sorrowfully that it sliced through Henry’s brutal nostalgia trip at once. Her hands were trembling in her lap.

Henry, realizing what he had said aloud, took her hand. “Betty, you are not a monster. You are nothing like the Keepers. Not at all. Wilson was just using you as his housekeeper. His servant.”

“One reason I was his housekeeper was because I was a failed experiment.” As Henry opened his mouth to protest, Betty pressed on hurriedly, “He wished to use me for a project he was conducting to claim complete dominion over the studio, and to ‘dethrone’ The Ink Demon. He wished to create the perfect soul for him to accomplish that. But” —here she looked downcast again— “I was a mistake.”

“Wilson was the mistake,” Henry muttered, struggling to stamp down a swell of fury for Betty’s sake. However, there was another question just dangling there right on the tip of his tongue, and since it seemed like the right time, he asked, “Betty, how much do you know about Gent?”

Betty shuddered so terribly at this name that Henry wound up clasping her other hand in his to calm her somewhat. “Oh, Wilson often talked about Gent at mealtimes. He liked to tell me things like that. But, oh, it was so dreadful! Wilson would declare that him and Gent were approaching the day when what they made in here could get brought ‘out there.’ Once everything was properly controlled.” She shivered. “He would always have this wicked smile on his face and either retire to select a few books from the library and go to his room, or he would do the same thing but venture down to his laboratory.”

The library. If Wilson had gone there to collect materials for his projects…

“Betty,” Henry said, “how much do you know about the books in Wilson’s library?”

“Oh, there are a wide range of books in the library, and they are such wonderful, comforting things,” Betty replied. “I have spent many hours keeping them neat and tidy for Wilson to access with ease, and there are even a few fiction titles that I have re-read more than ten times over—they are so good.” The thought brought some much-needed cheer back into her voice, for which Henry was grateful.

Still, he had to ask, “Do you happen to know which books Wilson was using for his projects?”

Betty bowed her head.

“Please, Betty. It is important for the studio—our home. Wilson is gone, but Gent is ‘out there,’ and we need to know exactly what they were planning to do, or what they might still be planning. Audrey and everyone else could be in danger. Please,” he repeated.

Finally, Betty lifted her head. “I believe I know the books you mean, and I can bring a few of them to you. Or there is also the possibility that—” she trailed off for a moment, then squeezed his hands and started again, “There is also the possibility that you could come visit me at the manor and see the library.”

Stepping foot into the same manor where Wilson had lived admittedly sent a chill down Henry’s spine. However, it was exactly what he had felt might happen eventually. Even if Wilson’s manor had been empty, he had planned to at least check out the library, and now he had a helpful guide to point him in the right direction.

There was just one thing. “I need to tell the others.”

“Oh, my,” Betty startled at the thought. “Must you? When they meet me… when they know what I am…”

“They’ll understand who you are, and they’ll be fine with it,” Henry said with a smile. “I know that they will. Let’s meet in the subway station tomorrow morning, all right? I’ll bring Allison and Tom, and the four of us can check out the library.”

***

That evening in the safehouse, as Buddy laid out a pizza so large that it almost dripped over the sides of their table, Henry revealed everything about his interactions with Betty to his companions. They listened with what appeared to be a mixture of surprise and other emotions crossing their faces until Henry reached the end of his story—and they sat in contemplative silence afterwards.

Allison was the first to react. “Ah, so that’s why you’ve been distracted lately.”

It wasn’t what Henry had expected her to say, and the surprise must have shown.

“You’ve been out of it in recent days, Henry,” she said, but the tweak of a smile at the corner of her lips calmed his nerves a bit. “Buddy got so worried that he introduced this ‘Ultra-Mega Pizza Deluxe’ option on his menu.”

Henry turned in his seat to Buddy, who had a long strip of pizza dangling from his mouth. “Huh. I hadn’t realized I’d caused that much of a commotion. Sorry about that, Buddy.” He patted Buddy on the shoulder, and the cartoon wolf smiled around cheeks puffed out with food. “And sorry, everyone else,” he looked around the table.

Tom shrugged and grunted as if to dismiss the whole matter, but Allison simply said, “My only question is why you kept Betty a secret until now.”

“She seemed worried about anyone else knowing of her existence,” Henry replied. “I should probably have said something to you guys anyway, but I’ve got to admit it was kind of nice to have something I could do in the meantime.”

A wall creaked nearby, and Henry held up the Seeing Tool.

“Henry did not want to interrupt you,” Wandering wrote.

Allison saw the message, and her brows knitted together. “Oh, Henry, you could never interrupt us, not really. We’re here to help each other out. The safety of the studio and everyone here is important to all of us.” Their other friends nodded or made grunts to show their agreement. “With that said, of course we’ll go together to see the library.”

Henry smiled wider than usual, until it was closer to a grin. “Thank you, everyone.” But then he frowned. “I’m unsure how Betty can still be here even when Wilson and his Keepers are gone, just like I’m unsure how the Old Gent Workshop and Wilson’s Manor can still be here. If it has anything to do with Wilson's experiments and him working with Gent, they could have been up to a lot more than taking over the studio.”

“Speaking of working together,” Allison murmured. “I was going to bring it up sooner, but something is going on with Sammy and Alice.”

“Huh? Are they on the move?” Henry perked up. “They’ve been pretty quiet since this Cycle started.”

“I know, and it had worried Tom and I as well, so we were taking turns in checking out their usual areas. Everything seemed calm enough, although Sammy’s congregation had grown in the absence of The Ink Demon, and Alice seemed to have more members of The Butcher Gang wandering around near Heavenly Toys. We started to feel so much at ease, in fact, that we got busy with other things.”

Allison sighed. “We hoped so much that it would stay peaceful. Then Norman showed us some footage this afternoon. Norman, if you would?”

Norman had been exploring the safehouse, studying the décor and admiring every picture of he came across. However, he turned when Allison called out to him in a loud voice—since The Projectionist seemed a bit hard of hearing—and nodded to show he understood. Pointing the lens of his projector head towards an empty space on the wall, he proceeded to play footage that he had obviously recorded himself. It depicted a scene where Sammy approached the door of Alice’s stronghold and knocked on it.

The door opened, and Alice appeared on its threshold with her arms crossed and her usual, twisted grimace.

They couldn’t hear what Sammy or Alice said to each other. Norman was unable to record sound.

Henry pulled out the Seeing Tool. “Wandering, do you know what those two are planning?”

Golden words appeared above the flickering footage of Sammy and Alice stepping into the stronghold and closing the door behind them. “They have been careful, secretive,” Wandering wrote. The letters, Henry noticed, were growing a thinner. “They speak in whispers, and we must strain to hear anything from them. It is… tiring. We have been doing other things…”

Like listening in on my conversations with Betty, and learning what she had to share with us, Henry realized guiltily. He didn’t say it aloud, but he was suddenly very conscious of the fact that he had taken to calling out to Wandering a lot in recent days, asking for information, or holding longer discussions with them than ever. All of it must have been strenuous.

He made a mental note to be more careful in the future.

“It’s all right, Wandering,” Henry assured them. “You have done a wonderful job, and I want to thank you for all your help. Maybe you should rest for a while.”

“Of course…” The golden words dissolved.

“Once we get back from the library tomorrow,” Allison patted Henry on the shoulder, “we’ll figure out what’s going on with Sammy and Alice. Until then, maybe all of us could use a rest.”

“Yeah, you’re right. A good night’s rest will be a big help,” Henry said.

***

Henry got woken up by the creaking. It was so fierce he momentarily thought the walls were caving in, and he fell right out of his hammock and onto Buddy—who had also stumbled onto the floor in a tangle of blankets. He fumbled for his Seeing Tool and held it up to find dozens of golden arrows pointing out of the room and down the corridor towards the kitchen.

As the walls continued to quake about them, Henry and Buddy rushed to the kitchen, where they found Allison and Tom holding onto each other for support. Meanwhile, Norman was touching a golden spot on the wall with one hand and projecting a scene onto the wall.

This footage showed the train pulling into the subway station, and Betty stepping onto the platform, in apparent readiness for meeting up with everyone. She looked nervous. However, a moment later that nervousness turned to terror as another figured stepped into the station, having apparently come down the stairs. A figure in a dark dress, with a broken halo sticking out of her dark hair, and two little horns, with Butcher Gang Members accompanying her.

They watched in terror as the Butcher Gang Members grabbed ahold of the doors of the train and kept them open, while Alice threw a letter over her shoulder onto the ground with one hand, and yanked Betty into the train with her using the other.

Henry was all for running out of the safehouse right then and there, but the door stayed shut, and another scene began to play out on the footage—of Lost Ones in the sewers, swaying a bit as they apparently chanted, with Sammy standing on a box with dark words on the wall behind him that read, “Reclaim the Realm of Our Lord! He will set us free!”

It was like a horror film. Well, it very much was a horror film.

“All right, we understand!” Henry shouted above the din. “Wandering, we understand! Let us go.” And just like that, the walls calmed, although they still groaned as if Wandering were doing their best to settle their nerves and failing.

“Tom and I will see if we can find out the full extent of Sammy’s plans,” Allison declared, taking charge. “Buddy and Norman, you go alert the residents of Lost City and Ink Harmony Park. Henry—”

“We have to see what Alice wrote in that letter,” Henry finished. “I’ll be right back.”

“So will we,” Allison said, and Henry could tell she was cursing silently. “They were coordinating an attack. That’s what they were doing.”

Everyone had their assignments. Henry rushed off on his, right to the subway station, prepared to fight any Butcher Gang Members that might have been left behind. Unfortunately, they had all followed Alice onto the train, it appeared.

He found the letter without much trouble. The message read:

“To The Little Errand Boy,

Don’t think I haven’t noticed a certain someone running off to meet with you on a constant basis lately, a Little Errand Girl off to meet her Little Errand Boy. It makes me sick. She has been oblivious to me hanging around, never discovering my study. Yet I know where she has been. She taunts me with her looks. She thinks she is so much better than I am. An angel like me. How dare she! I could be beautiful like that. I will show her. I will show everyone I can be beautiful.

Then there is you, Little Errand Boy, with your park. I used to imagine heaven was such a place. But it is not mine. I could never fit into that heaven until I am perfect. You would never know what I have gone through to be the way I am now.

Sammy calls me beautiful. He is a good liar, but I can remember when he used to be a handsome man. He also tells me that once he cleans away your wretched park, we can create one of our own. Our own paradise, and then we will have a palace as well.

I will have my formal appointment with your Little Errand Girl this evening if you would care to join me at My Palace. Perhaps I will even take her heart and use it to make me beautiful at last.

Or maybe you will be too busy entertaining Sammy by then?

Your choice.

XOXOOOO,

The One and Only

Alice Angel.”

Henry clutched the letter in his hand as he rushed back to the safehouse.

Alice Angel had a study deep in Wilson’s Manor? It figured, and now Betty and all the improvements they had been working towards were in jeopardy. Memories kept filling his head as well of when that twisted Alice had captured Buddy, stolen his heart, and turned him into a monster to attack him. Exactly what Alice might turn Betty into, if she went that far, was something Henry refused to imagine.

Whatever plans she had in mind, though, would be less than divine.

***

Elsewhere, Audrey had enjoyed a great night’s sleep. The animation department had just completed the feature about checkers, and now she could enjoy a daytrip on her day off with Bendy and Inky in a very special way.

“You two are going to love Coney Island,” she said as Bendy helped her make sandwiches and pack them into a basket. “We can have our packed lunch at the beach and walk along the wooden pier. There is even an amusement park we can enjoy.”

“An amusement park,” Inky grumbled. “Do you mean like ‘Bendy Land?’”

“Bendy Land?” Audrey asked, wrapping up some plastic silverware. Then she folded a picnic blanket.

“It was unamusing and left in pieces in a storage room. I never saw the point.”

“I remember seeing something about that in the sketch book, but not much. I guess it must have been a project my father never managed to complete.”

Inky simply snorted, as if to imply there were many things Joey Drew had started and never completed.

“Admittedly, I have never been there myself, but Astroland is supposed to be fun, and we can also visit the New York Aquarium,” Audrey persisted.

Meanwhile, Bendy went in-between helping Audrey to pack and looking through a small pamphlet she had brought home about the attractions there. He seemed to skip from one activity to the next, growing more excited all the while about their adventure.

At last, “Okay, I think we’re about set,” Audrey declared. “Come on, time to go!”

Bendy pumped his little fist in the air and grabbed ahold of her hand.

Then there came a snarl from the mirror. Bendy shivered in her hold.

“Audrey,” Inky rasped. He sounded suddenly on-edge, and a little rattled.

“What’s wrong?” Audrey heard the intonation and felt a chill shoot down her own spine, alongside a definite feeling of wrongness. She also checked Bendy, and he was trembling as if something had spooked him, even though it was obvious he wasn’t sure exactly what was making him feel that way.

“Something is happening in my realm. The Dark Puddles are more desperate than usual. They are crying out.” Inky had started to wheeze a bit, and gurgle. “Check the book.”

Audrey knew exactly what Inky meant. She hurried to the bedroom and flung open her father’s sketch book, discovering a new message from Henry. He told of a plan coordinated between Alice Angel that Henry and their other friends had gathered information about.

Alice Angel wanted to seize control over the manor and take Betty’s heart in the evening, while Sammy planned to lead his congregation of Lost Ones into Ink Harmony Park at around the same time to destroy the whole place in the name of “Their Lord.” Henry, Allison, Tom, and all the rest were trying to decide how best to address the threat at hand.

And now Audrey was trying to figure it out as well.

“Maybe I could erect barriers,” Audrey mused, returning to the kitchen, and pacing the floor. “Or create a cell around Sammy and those Lost Ones? Oh, no, that wouldn’t work. And Wilson’s Manor doesn’t even show up in the sketch book."

She left it unsaid that Alice Angel and Sammy did show up in the sketch book, and that she might very well be able to alter them altogether with a few strokes of her pen. It was a possibility. However, Audrey had never tried it, and she had promised she never would do such a thing to anyone. And even if she did, it might not even be as simple as redrawing a few things or altering facts about individuals in the sketch book. She might simply make everything worse.

If things came to that, she might need to try it anyway for the sake of everyone, but still...

Audrey groaned. It was so hard to concentrate when thrown into such an intense situation. To be forced to make decisions that could affect the lives of so many people. Before, when she was in The Ink World, it had mostly been down to a matter of personal survival.

What was the right thing to do?

Bendy kept opening his notebook as if eager to suggest some plan of action, only to close it again in nervous frustration, unable to come up with anything.

“I fail to see why you are so upset about this whole thing,” Inky grumbled, still wheezing slightly. “The Lost Ones will fight, some will fall, they will return to The Ink, and then they will get spewed out elsewhere. If any structures get destroyed, they can be rebuilt.”

“I don’t care about the buildings so much, but The Lost Ones can still feel pain and suffer. They have feelings,” Audrey retorted. “Additionally, our friends are in danger. They need our help.”

“They are your friends. I am just The Ink Demon in their eyes. A being to fear and despise. I do not see why they deserve any thought from me and—” he trailed off, apparently catching sight of the furious expression on Audrey’s face. Either consciously or unconsciously, he appeared to shrink back just a bit from it.

“That’s only because you have never given them a reason to see you otherwise, Inky,” Audrey snapped at him. “They have never gotten to know you the way I do now.”

“Meaning?” Inky seemed bewildered that Audrey had gotten so upset at him.

“Meaning I care a great deal for you, Inky, just as I care for Bendy, and I wish you would show everyone how much you’ve changed and grown, and that you want a better life too.”

Gazing between the two of them, the tension thick in the air, Bendy wrote in his notebook, “I want to save our friends.” He stood beside Audrey, and they both stared at Inky, who stared back at them for a very long time.

At last, Inky reluctantly rasped, “There is a solution. One that will work.”

Audrey whirled about, hope filling her voice as she said, “Really? What is it?”

“I cannot suggest anything meaningful for Alice Angel at the manor. You will need to figure that out on your own.” Here, Inky snarled as if both Alice Angel and the idea of the manor made his ink boil. “As for Sammy and his ‘flock,’ they will never back down on their own. They are waiting for ‘Their Lord’ to return, and they think Ink Harmony Park is a blight that disrespects my memory.”

“Are you suggesting—?”

“We need to go there, back to my realm, through The Ink Machine.”

Chapter Text

Audrey wrote a hurried message to Henry. She said there was a possible solution for Sammy, at least, and to expect company shortly. Soon they had rushed out of the door, along the hallway, down the stairwell, and out of the apartment complex. Bendy squeezed her hand tightly as they strode along the sidewalk and wove between other pedestrians.

As they passed the storefronts, Inky appeared to run alongside them. “I did not expect you to accept my plan that easily, Audrey,” he hissed softly. “It would have been better for you to hesitate a little, at least.”

“Why should I have hesitated?” Audrey flicked a glance towards him. Otherwise, she remained focused on the path ahead and making sure they didn’t run into anyone or anything. Bendy followed suit with great determination.

“You agreed to bring all of us into The Ink Machine, back into my realm. I will have the ability to regain my form when we get there. I will regain my full powers.”

“And?”

Inky paused in the middle of one storefront window as Audrey and Bendy moved on, but of course he was there in the next one they passed. He growled in irritation. “Once the mere thought of me bursting free from Bendy made you tremble, as did the possibility of getting dragged into the Dark Puddles.”

They stopped at an intersection, waiting for the light to change for them to cross, near the window of a jewelry store. Audrey sighed and looked over her shoulder at him. “Inky, I trust you. You are a member of our family. You wouldn’t hurt me.” She smiled. “Besides, I’ve also met Wandering, and they should be expecting us alongside Henry and the others. They are not simply ‘The Dark Puddles’ anymore.”

The light changed, and they crossed the street.

Inky loped along reluctantly behind them for another block or so, until Audrey asked, “Does me being unafraid bother you that much?”

He didn’t answer for a while. Then, as they raced along another sidewalk, Inky wheezed slightly as he said, “It does. You might need to be afraid.”

Surprised at his sudden unease, Audrey asked, “What are you talking abou—” only to trail off as she spotted Marge and Andrew coming out of Tony’s Pizzeria, holding hands. And, of course, as soon as she noticed them, they noticed her.

“Oh, Audrey! What a surprise!” Marge’s face lit up in delight. “I thought you told me that you and Benny were going to Coney Island bright and early today.”

Audrey winced. She had been so excited about their planned trip to Coney Island, she had let herself gush about it to Marge the previous evening before getting off work. Audrey had even been so bold as to ask for advice on what Marge recommended for “Benny,” which had led Marge to bring up the aquarium and certain kiddie rides at Astroland. Furthermore, the way to Coney Island was in the opposite direction from Archgate Films.

What really made her start to sweat, though, was the way Andrew had started to study her. He had that serious expression again—the one he had given her near the Metropolitan Museum—although this time a touch of concern softened it. Even so, Audrey got the impression he was trying to stare into her very soul and read all the secrets hidden there. “Why are you two in such a rush?” he asked, and for one wild moment, Audrey felt like he had isolated them in an interrogation room somewhere. She shuddered.

It was also apparent that Andrew was less than surprised by Bendy. Audrey realized then he had probably connected those dots all the way back when she had asked Marge about finding books to help Bendy and Inky with their literacy. The events at the Met had likely only dispersed any doubts in his mind on that front.

Thankfully, Marge came to her rescue. “Maybe they heard about that new ‘Super Grande Sundae’ at Phil’s Ice Cream Parlor.” She winked at Benny. “There were reports in the paper about all the kids begging their parents to bring them there for its first appearance on their menu.”

Bendy looked up at Audrey, who would have shrugged if it wouldn’t have been too suspicious. He let go of Audrey’s hand long enough to write in his notebook, “It sounds really, really good!” and hold up the page for Marge and Andrew to view.

The little guy wasn’t lying. He was simply responding to the thought of a “Super Grande Sundae.” Even Inky, from his reflection in a window display nearby, murmured, “You never mentioned ice cream sundaes, Audrey.” It might have sounded accusing if he hadn’t been gurgling so much.

Andrew still appeared dubious, but Marge tugged him along. “Let’s go, Andrew,” she said. “You promised to take me on a stroll around Central Park. Audrey and Benny can have ice cream sundaes if they want before spending a great day at Coney Island, right?”

“Right…” Audrey murmured as Marge pulled Andrew past them.

“Have fun!” Marge called over her shoulder.

Audrey waved back, and then she and Bendy were away again along the street. They turned the bend out of sight from her co-workers. Now they were almost to Archgate Films. Just two more blocks to go.

“Ice cream sundaes…” Inky muttered. “They would have been good.”

“We can go there after we return home from The Ink World,” Audrey promised.

Bendy was happy at that prospect; his grin grew wider. Inky, however, remained sullen.

What was going on with him? It was almost like he didn’t want to go back. Even though he had suggested this specific course of action.

Audrey became so distracted by this strange behavior that she barely registered it when Bendy tugged on her hand in warning, moments before she ran into someone who had just slipped out of a large, rusted van. “Oops, I’m so, so sorry.” She stepped back. Even though it was almost like she had collided with a slightly softer wall.

“You should be more careful, ma’am,” came a gravelly voice. “A young woman who doesn’t pay attention while on the streets could run into trouble.”

A familiar gravelly voice.

Audrey blinked, and then she sighed in relief. “You’re the gentleman from the museum. The one who told the story about the Spring of Dreams. Nice to meet you again.”

The old man grunted. He wore a worn pair of overalls and the workman’s cap Audrey had noticed at the museum. “Not a lot of folks are happy to see me in this city. I just got back after a few years spent working… elsewhere. A lot has changed in that time, without me.”

Audrey couldn’t imagine why. He was intimidating with his gruff demeanor, but she had come away at the museum with the impression of him as a sad and careworn person. Someone rough on the outside but hurting underneath.

Yep, she needed to have a quick chat with Inky as soon as possible.

As for the old gentleman, though, she assured him, “Well, let me be the first to welcome you back to New York City. Sorry again for bumping into you.”

“Take more care next time,” the old gentleman grunted again, “especially with a kid.”

“Yes, sir,” Audrey found herself replying. She hardly ever called anyone “sir,” but something about this gentleman seemed to draw out that type of reaction from her.

The old gentleman went to adjust the sideview mirror on his truck as Audrey moved on with Bendy.

“Are you doing all right, Inky?” she asked as they passed a café.

Inky gurgled softly and rasped, “You actually believe in me that much, don’t you?”

“Of course, I do,” Audrey replied, pausing before the glass for a moment. “Why are you—”

Bendy whistled urgently up at her.

“What’s wrong, Bendy?” Audrey asked, and the cartoon imp pointed over his shoulder.

Audrey looked. The old gentleman was staring at them from beside his van, with the strangest expression she had seen in a while. Perhaps the look was understandable, given that from the perspective of most passersby, Audrey had stopped to speak with the window of a café. Feeling a bit embarrassed to be caught that way, they quickly moved on. The problem was the old gentleman followed them.

He didn’t give chase. He didn’t call out. He simply strode along half a block behind them, but there was an intensity in his stern gaze, fringing on anger, that was alarming.

What was up with him? His attitude had shifted gears so swiftly.

Mrs. Fern looked up in surprise when Audrey slipped in through the glass doors of Archgate Films. The clerk also must have noticed the anxiety on Audrey’s face as she glanced over her shoulder, where the old gentleman had paused on the street and was peering into the building. He seemed to be on the point of coming inside as well.

A series of thoughts doubtless flowed through Mrs. Fern’s mind at this point. One of their animators, a young woman, had rushed into the building while pursued by a menacing man who was clearly causing her anxiety. Mrs. Fern knew New York could be dangerous sometimes. “Hey, Harvey,” she called out to the stout security guard leaning against the wall. “Looks like we might have a situation here.”

Harvey saw the gentleman too. He frowned, hitched up his belt, and muttered that none of the employees at Archgate Films would get harassed on his watch. He strode towards the door—at which point their pursuer promptly left.

“Can you believe that creep? It’s getting to where you need to look over your shoulder at every turn.” Mrs. Fern remarked to Harvey as, meanwhile, Audrey and Bendy slipped past.

They moved through the animation department together for the first time since the evening Audrey had brought Bendy home to their apartment. It was surreal how quiet everything had been both times. They stepped into the elevator, and Audrey pressed the button to take them down to the appropriate floor. For extra security, her boss had had a security pad installed near the corridor leading on towards the exhibition room itself, but on this occasion, it was open for anyone to access.

Their steps slowed as they walked amid the dimness, right to a poster that described the exhibition for “Joey Drew: The Man and The Demon.” There were pieces of memorabilia lovingly preserved around every corner, including a small statue of her father, shelves with various artifacts—including her father’s book, The Illusion of Living, which Audrey had admittedly never read—and numerous records containing old songs used in or inspired by the Bendy cartoons. Large signs talked about “Sillyvision” and discussed the advancements made by Joey Drew and Joey Drew Studios in the field of animation.

Audrey pulled aside a curtain that had been hung across the entrance to another short corridor, along which stood pillars that bore different symbols. In another room at the very end sat The Ink Machine itself. The device appeared so quiet and innocent on its own—a large metallic box of sorts that had pipes winding in and out of it, and with a dark nozzle on the front.

“All right, Bendy, we need to collect a few objects and place them onto those pillars.” She pointed to the pictures. “You grab a wrench, a toy version of you, and one of those records. I’ll get the other objects.”

Bendy saluted Audrey, and they set to work. Audrey found an inkwell and The Illusion of Living. However, she paused before a glass cabinet which displayed a banjo and the reflection of a crestfallen demon.

“Okay, Inky, we need to talk,” Audrey said. “Why are you so scared?”

“I am not scared,” Inky snapped, before he relented and added, “Not for me.”

“Why?” She reached out and touched the glass as if to pat him between the horns as she had done so often for Bendy.

“After we enter The Ink Machine, and when I get released, I will become fully connected to the Dark Puddles and my realm again,” Inky rasped.

“Aren’t you already connected to The Ink World?” Audrey asked.

“I can feel shifts in The Ink and hear the Dark Puddles whisper to me of my realm, but we have been separated from each other for a while now. I lack most of my abilities. The whispers do not fill my head as much now as they did in my realm, nor must I endure all their shattered memories at once.”

“Wandering is doing much better. In fact, I thought you said patches of The Ink felt warm and good.”

“They still endure much pain and agony. They will fill my senses again. They also have a more pronounced identity than when I was there that could prove overwhelming.”

“Wait a minute,” Audrey pressed her hand a bit harder against the glass in sudden understanding, “are you afraid of somehow forgetting yourself, Inky? Of losing control?”

Inky stayed quiet.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” Audrey soothed. “It’s like you said. You’re powerful, like me and Bendy. You won’t lose control. Just remember that you are Inky.” When he continued to gurgle, she added, “Besides, if you do happen to have any troubles, we’ll knock some sense back into you. We’ll need your help for your plan against Sammy as well.”

“The plan could work with Bendy.” Inky was wheezing, albeit faintly.

Audrey exchanged a worried look with Bendy, but she knew they needed to keep moving as well. So, she patted the glass and said, “Like I said, Inky, I trust you. I would trust you with my life.” Without waiting for his reaction, she turned to Bendy, “Ready?”

Bendy pulled out his notebook and wrote, “Ready!!!”

“All right, then let’s go, you two,” Audrey declared. She laid the objects she had gathered on the remaining few pillars, then yanked the lever to start the ink flowing out of the nozzle and across the floor. She made sure to turn off the flow before it could spill too far among the pillars, though.

Audrey pulled out the sketch book. “I hope my father’s sketch book makes this trip into The Ink Machine with us,” she murmured.

Bendy looked thoughtful for a moment, and then he wrote in his notebook, “It will. It is your sketch book, Audrey.”

“Thanks, little guy,” Audrey said, taking his hand. They stepped into the ink puddle.

Instantly, her vision shifted to a yellowish hue, and a chorus of voices echoed in her head. “Welcome back, Audrey!” Wandering chorused.

Then Audrey and Bendy sank into the puddle, and as they did, The Ink Machine began to suck up the ink again into its nozzle, and them along with it.

***

Another nozzle ejected them over a railing and into a room near a set of shelves and various mechanisms. Audrey sat up. She looked at the ink enveloping her hands and arms, noted the duplicate Ink Machine hauled up on chains out of a pool of ink, and took in the distinctive appearance of their surroundings.

They were back in The Ink World.

Her father’s sketch book lay on the floor beside her, safe and sound.

No, Bendy had told the truth. It wasn’t her father’s sketch book anymore.

It was her sketch book.

“Are you all right, Bendy?” Audrey asked, at which Bendy gave her a huge thumbs-up. “That’s a relief.” She stroked him between his horns.

There were voices coming from down the hallway. They were ones Audrey hadn’t heard aloud in weeks, and which were wonderful to hear.

She smiled. “Come on, I’m sure they will be glad to see us.” With that said, Audrey stepped over an exposed pipe and headed down the hall. She recognized the first floor, of course, from sketches, Henry’s descriptions of it, and even her own recollection of when the Ink World version of her father had brought her here to share a bit about the history of his counterpart from the Real World.

Henry and the others had set up a large table in the front room, covered in written documents and maps, which they were examining closely. Norman was projecting images onto the wall of Lost Ones swarming throughout the sewer systems, and apparently getting into fights with another cultish group of Lost Ones led by their own ruler, Amok.

Further clips depicted everyone in Ink Harmony Park creating makeshift barricades, boarding up storefronts, and arming each other with pipes, wrenches, and similar weaponry. One scene showed Buddy feeding the Lost Ones to keep their strength up, while Porter, Heidi, and Big Steve helped everyone to reinforce a wall around the area.

Allison held up a rough layout of what appeared to be Wilson’s manor. She was pointing out one of the rooms when her gaze slid to one side, then widened. She dropped the layout.

“Audrey?” She gasped in shock.

Everyone turned, and surprise shone on every face. And Audrey had the uncomfortable feeling there had been a miscommunication somewhere along the line. Although, of course, she had never waited for a response to her last message. Reaching The Ink World as soon as possible had tossed aside all other thoughts on that front.

As the stunned moment continued, Audrey sought to break it by murmuring, “I read Henry’s message about the trouble in the studio, and—” She paused, rubbing an arm awkwardly. “You haven’t gotten to read my message yet, have you?”

Henry glanced at the mailbox, scratching the back of his head. “We were kind of busy. In any case,” he approached and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, “I’m glad you came to help out.” His expression was gentle, welcoming.

Allison came over as well, followed by Tom. “Good to see you again, Audrey. Your arrival is a surprise, but we need all the help we can get right now.” Beside her, Tom grunted in confirmation and greeting.

Norman switched off his projector and looked at Audrey, head cocked to one side.

Henry waved him over. “Hey, Norman, this is Audrey. I’ve told you about her. She is the one who created Ink Harmony Park and a bunch of other things for us.”

The Projectionist walked over and bowed to Audrey, who blushed at the formality. “Oh, hmm, it’s nice to meet you too,” she said, then realized none of them had even mentioned Bendy. Then she saw the reason why. His fingertips and the tips of his horns were poking out from just around the bend.

“One moment, I’m not alone,” Audrey said. “Come on out, little guy. It’s okay. They’re our friends.”

Bendy stepped into sight from around the corner, looking nervous.

Intakes of breath abounded.

“Oh, Audrey,” Henry murmured, shaking his head.

Allison gasped again, but this time in horror. “You brought The Ink Demon here? Audrey, what were you thinking?” She reached back towards her sheathe with one hand and tied to pull Audrey behind her with the other.

But Audrey pulled away from her. “No! Actually… well, yes. I brought Bendy and Inky.” She was about to say more when Tom barreled past, wielding his wrench and growling. Audrey saw Bendy’s eyes grow wide in terror, and she reacted accordingly. She felt the pulse of power radiate through her as survival instincts kicked in, bringing her flowing right in front of Bendy and shielding him.

Tom stopped with his wrench upheld. He barked at her harshly, gesturing with his metallic hand for her to get out of the way.

“I won’t let you hurt him,” Audrey declared, and they glared at each other for a long, tension-filled moment. The intensity of that gaze reminded her so much of the old gentleman they had met on the way to the studio. Thinking back on that added extra fury to her resolve. Whatever his intentions had been in pursuing them, Audrey would have protected Bendy and Inky from that man, just as she would protect them from Tom.

There were murmurings and shuffling in the room. A wall creaked. Audrey watched, out of the corner of her eye, as Henry lifted the Seeing Tool she had heard about and read something on the wall. He murmured something to Allison, which sounded like, "Bendy is all right with Wandering," and Allison came forward to lay a hand on Tom’s shoulder.

“Tom.”

Tom looked at her, still motioning towards Bendy and making a series of furious yips and grunts—although he calmed somewhat when Allison gently took him by the snout.

“I know you don’t like it,” Allison said. “I don’t like it either, but we’ll keep an eye on him, all right?”

After a final distrustful look in their direction, Tom stalked away.

Still rattled, Bendy turned to a fresh page in his notebook. Allison watched Bendy write in wary fascination, and then she read aloud the message that he held up for her to see, “Inky doesn’t want to come out. He is too scared right now.” The incredulity was clear in her voice as she turned to gaze around at everyone.

Audrey sighed.

Then Bendy flipped back several pages in his notebook and approached Henry with as much caution as Henry was clearly experiencing. The cartoonish imp held up a sketch he had drawn of Fluffy the Bunny and managed a small smile.

Audrey came to stand beside him, and to pat him comfortingly between the horns. “Bendy has been working very hard on his drawings,” she said. “He really loves the art sessions you guys have together.”

After another long moment, Henry sighed. He knelt on one knee. “You certainly have improved, haven’t you, Bendy?” The smile on Bendy’s face instantly spread into a huge grin, and he bounced on his heels, whistling in happiness so playfully that Henry smiled as well. “All right, all right,” he said. “Yes, you did a good job.”

The sight of Bendy the Dancing Demon in their midst, happy at being praised, didn’t so much break the tension as ease it a little.

“Okay, Audrey.” Henry stood and turned to her, while everyone else looked on. “Time to get to work.”

Chapter Text

Audrey sat beside Henry at the table in the front room, with Allison and Tom sitting opposite. Among the documents spread before them were tape recordings and messages from Sammy Lawrence and a woman named Susie Campbell, detailing when they worked at Joey Drew Studios.

Several of them were complaints from Sammy Lawrence about the pipes encroaching on the music department where he worked as the music director, and the difficulties of creating music in such an environment. The impression Audrey got from Susie Campbell’s documents, meanwhile, was of a hopeful actress who started out by voicing Alice Angel, believed she was on the road to creating a career for herself, grew bitter when replaced by Allison Pendle, and then agreed to participate in an experiment. Likely one of the same types of experiment that Gent had put so many people through.

They were two of the many souls twisted by their time at Joey Drew Studios and changed forever by the experiments that took place there. But they were also the same souls now laying claim to parts of The Ink World for their own purposes and putting the lives of others at risk.

As the others looked over the documents, Bendy did his best to lighten the atmosphere. He approached Norman, who backed into a wall as the little guy opened his notebook and drew a flower. The subject was a simple daisy, but Norman relaxed. And when Bendy pulled the page out of the notebook—a great sacrifice on his part—and offered the drawing as a gift, The Projectionist relented and accepted his gesture. Clearly elated by this exchange, Bendy tap-danced around him.

Tom watched on, continuously thumping the end of his wrench into the palm of his metallic hand, as if daring Bendy to try anything remotely threatening.

“Wandering is helping us to monitor Alice Angel and Sammy,” Henry said. “For the moment, everything is quiet. Alice Angel was seen only minutes before you arrived,” here he nodded at Audrey. “She was shouting at some of the Butcher Gang guarding the entrance of the manor and telling them that she was having Betty make her a queenly banquet. So, for now, Betty is safe.” His fingers curled into fists, and he gritted his teeth in obvious frustration at the situation.

Allison reached across the table to pat him on the hand. “We’ll save her,” she consoled him, although a shadow of sadness passed across her face. “Even if it means fighting the other Alice Angel.” She sighed. “I’d always hoped to reach her one day, even in the last Cycle.”

Tom grunted.

“Even so, we need to do what is best for everyone,” Allison persisted, nodding at Audrey.

“Right, and meanwhile, Sammy is apparently giving yet another sermon to his congregation of Lost Ones,” Henry muttered with a groan. “At this rate, they will tear apart the whole city, and not simply Ink Harmony Park.”

“This is probably a silly question,” Audrey said, glancing through another one of the documents, “but is the Sammy Lawrence in the sewers a Lost One, or is he another version of Sammy Lawrence from the Real World? Like, well…”

“Like there is a Henry Stein in the ‘Real World,’” Henry finished. He shook his head. “No, the Sammy Lawrence that’s here is basically a Lost One.”

“And Susie Campbell got turned into the twisted version of Alice Angel.”

This time, it was Allison who replied, “Yes, she was originally a soul from beyond The Ink Machine as well.”

“There is a way that you can tell the difference.” Henry pulled out The Seeing Tool. “Here, come and take a look.”

Audrey peered through the tool, which Henry had pointed at Allison and Tom. She gasped. Above Allison’s head was a golden halo, while a golden bone appeared to be in Tom’s mouth. Then Henry waved one of his hands in front of the scene, and a golden pen was between his fingers.

“Only those first born here in the studio have these symbols,” Henry said. He paused, then, and peered at Audrey through the glass.

“Do I have one too?” Audrey asked.

Allison came to peer through the Seeing Tool. “Now that is interesting. You have a golden crown suspended above your head. One half is filled in, while the other half is an outline.” Her brow furrowed in thought. “It might reflect your connections with this world and the world beyond The Ink Machine.”

Then something caught her attention. “Let me borrow this for a second,” Allison murmured, taking The Seeing Tool, and pointing it towards where Norman had a drawn a crude flower of his own on a random piece of paper and handed it to Bendy, who danced about like he had been given a trophy. Norman rubbed the back of his head in apparent embarrassment at the high praise.

Audrey and Henry peered through the tool. While Norman lacked any kind of golden symbols, Bendy…

“Goodness, his whole outline is glowing,” Audrey said.

“Which is odd,” Henry remarked, “because The Ink Demon didn’t show anything like that when I tried the tool on him.”

“He’s connected to the Dark Puddles, The Ink World, and Wandering, so perhaps that’s the reason?” Audrey guessed.

Noticing their attention, Bendy zoomed over with another flower sketch he had done, this time as a present for Allison, but Allison reflexively leapt back, and Tom growled—which caused the happiness on the cartoonish imp’s face to falter. Tears gathered along the rims of his eyes, and Allison’s expression softened in at least a hint of shame at making Bendy sad.

Audrey scooped Bendy up into her arms. “Please don’t worry, they just need to get used to you,” she soothed him, rubbing his back. She looked over his shoulder at Allison. “There really isn’t anything to worry about. Bendy is the sweetest little guy around. And Inky is much different from ‘The Ink Demon’ we knew during the last Cycle.”

“Or all the Cycles before that,” Henry muttered solemnly, but then he went to a desk and came back with a drawing. He tapped Bendy on the shoulder, and when Bendy looked at him sorrowfully, Henry held up his offering—a depiction of Fluffy the Bunny and Fluffy the Bear holding hands while standing in a meadow.

The tears dried up as joy twisted on its tap full blast. He leapt from Audrey arms to wrap his arms around Henry’s neck with great enthusiasm, squeaking happily. Henry was first surprised to get pounced on by Bendy, and then further surprised by the rapid series of squeaks.

Allison stifled a chuckle, and even Tom seemed thrown by Henry standing there with the squeaking imp.

Audrey smiled at the proceedings, then glanced at the documents on the table. “Inky was actually the one with a plan for Sammy,” she told Allison and Henry. “Since Sammy is so obsessed with ‘His Lord’ coming back, Inky believed his presence would get him and his forces to back down. But then he got scared.”

“The Ink Demon—scared?” Allison was still incredulous on this point. “What would he need to fear? This is his world. He has terrorized everyone in it for years.”

“He doesn’t want to do that anymore,” Audrey said. “Like I said, he is connected with the Dark Puddles, but also with the same kind of pain and agony that Wandering goes through.” She motioned at the walls, which creaked as if in agreement. “Inky wants to lead a better life as well, but he is afraid that if he gets unsealed—” She sighed, and began again, “He is afraid that he might go mad from all that pain, fear, and anger, and that he might hurt others.”

Allison and Henry exchanged a glance, and then they looked around at the walls as if remembering something. Perhaps, Audrey thought, they were calling to mind the experience Henry had written to her about, where Wandering had made the front room go dark while detailing the terrible things that had happened to anyone Gent had wanted to make disappear. The idea of having all that constantly spiraling around in someone’s mind in addition to their own personal tortures was something that likely gave them pause.

“Now Inky doesn’t want to come out at all,” Audrey continued. “He says that the plan could still work with Bendy.”

“Well, Sammy surrounds himself with cutouts of Bendy all the time,” Henry mused aloud, carefully setting Bendy down. “He would probably praise him as ‘His Lord’ as well, and he might back down—although you should be aware that he might try to carry Bendy away to act as their idol and leader.”

That idea froze Bendy on the spot. He trembled and looked up at Audrey, who patted him between the horns. “I’d never let that happen to you, little guy.” To the others, she said, “I had thought about Bendy helping me to get close enough to Sammy to use my powers to banish him back to The Ink, but he might come back eventually. And there would also be all the other Lost Ones there who would attack us.”

“True enough,” Henry agreed.

“Well, so I wondered if we might be able to do what you did for The Projectionist,” Audrey said.

Henry considered it. “You mean when we got Wandering to help Norman to ‘understand’ who we were, and that we didn’t need to fight.” He turned to the walls. “Sorry to bother you, Wandering, but is that possible?” He held up The Seeing Tool, while Allison and Audrey gazed over his shoulders.

Golden letters appeared on one of the walls. Wandering wrote, “You could help us to share our understanding with him, and you could refresh his mind.”

“Refresh his mind?” Henry asked.

“Return more of his memories,” Wandering wrote, apparently groping for the right words. “Piece them together. It takes a lot of effort.”

As if on cue, Norman switched on his projector head and pointed the lens at one of the walls. A series of scenes played, of standing before orchestras, composing music, going out to dinner with a young woman who was probably Susie Campbell, wading through a rehearsal room through which dark pipes crisscrossed, and apparently having a shouting match with Joey Drew himself.

Audrey winced at how terrifying her father looked, younger and so filled with rage.

“‘Touch the wall, Audrey,’” Henry read Wandering’s latest message aloud, breaking Audrey out of her thoughts. “‘We will give you the ability to share that understanding.’”

A golden handprint materialized on the wood, in plain view of everyone. Audrey walked up and carefully laid her hand onto it. A spike of power shot up her arm. The golden whorls on her hands lengthened, and for a moment she seemed to see Wandering on the other side of the wall, holding his hand up against hers.

Their chorus of voices echoed in her head, “Be careful.”

“Thank you,” she murmured in response.

The burst of energy sent her stumbled backwards. Incredibly, it wasn’t Audrey or Henry who caught, but Tom. He gave a curt grunt and helped her upright. “Thanks,” she said. The energy was tingling on her fingertips, and Audrey thought she could hear faint melodies playing from somewhere nearby. But they were in her head, she knew, and came from the memories.

“We can go to the sewers with Bendy, trick Sammy into letting us come close to him, and then I could return his memories,” Audrey said. “Then Sammy could make the other Lost Ones back down, right?"

Henry frowned. “I’m not sure how Sammy will be afterwards, but if he is anything like Norman was when he went through the same process, he might at least be confused enough to give us the upper hand.”

“If this works,” Audrey murmured, “maybe we could do the same thing to Alice Angel—or Susie Campbell.”

That was when the walls around them creaked violently, startling them. Bendy grabbed ahold of Audrey’s leg, while Henry held up the Seeing Tool as golden letters appeared rapidly across the walls. “Sammy is moving his forces,” Henry read aloud. “He is taking them out of the sewers, up towards Lost City.

Norman projected the scene on the wall. Sammy was out in front, of course, leading the charge up from the sewers and along the halls towards the city. His Lost Ones swayed as they walked, perhaps chanting, while armed with various tools to use as weapons. They smacked down pictures and other signs the Lost Ones had hung on the walls, proclaiming the hopeful future. Specifically, Sammy grabbed the sign that read “A City Reborn With Hopes and Dreams,” and sent it crashing through the window of the room overlooking the city.

“He’s moving much earlier than expected,” Allison said, horrified.

Henry clenched his teeth. “Let’s hope that means Alice Angel isn’t also moving earlier than expected. We need to make sure she doesn’t.” He turned to Allison. “You and Tom should go to the manor.”

“What?” Allison exclaimed.

“You two know the layout of the manor the best,” Henry said. “You know other ways in and out of there without going through the front door, and you would be able to find Betty and defend her until I can—” He trailed off, catching himself.

Tom put an arm around Allison, who said, “All right, Henry, we’ll go. Just be careful.”

Audrey squeezed Bendy’s hand. “Besides, Henry and I can use the ink fountains to reach the entryway into Ink Harmony Park, right into Lost City. I’m sure you could probably use them as well, right, Bendy?”

Bendy gave her a thumbs-up.

“Great,” Audrey said, looking relieved. “We will also have everyone in Lost City and Ink Harmony Park to back us up if something goes wrong.”

“Sounds like a plan, then,” Allison said. “Good luck.”

“Right!” Audrey and Henry agreed, and Bendy whistled, pumping one little gloved fist in the air.

***

Traveling by the ink fountain was fast and, as always, strange. Audrey felt as if her whole body had transformed into liquid, swishing along pipes over great distances at great speeds. Even so, she was aware of holding tightly onto Henry’s hand, while also hugging Bendy close. They knew where they wanted and needed to go, and at last came spurting out onto the main street of Lost City.

Off to their left, leading onto Ink Harmony Park, there was a barricade of crates and other supplies, while Lost Ones and several familiar faces peered over the top, with Big Steve looming over everyone.

“Bobby? Hello, Bobby!” Porter had pulled down his goggles and placed a bucket on his head like a helmet. “Hey, everyone, it’s Bobby! Oh, and Henry too!”

Heads craned to peer over the edge of the barricade at them. Buddy cocked his head to one side and waved one gloved hand at her; he was still wearing his chef’s hat. Heidi giggled in glee as she waved at them. “Oh, good, now the fun can really start,” she cried out.

There were other murmurs from Lost Ones she had never met, greeting her. It was nice to enjoy that kind of reception, even at such a tense moment.

“Hi, everyone,” Audrey called back, and noticed that many of them had blankets filled with what looked like rocks and various other items, while Buddy held a whole stack of pizzas in his hand—apparently their long-distance ammunitions for Sammy and his congregation. And now that she was really looking around, Audrey noticed that in the upper windows of the boarded-up businesses along the main city street, there were more Lost Ones waiting to unleash their own assault on their invaders.

Then Porter said, “Wait a minute, Bobby. Who’s that little fellow you’re attached to there?” He gestured to Bendy, who stood beside Audrey and held her hand.

Lost Ones and others stood on their tippy toes, and Heidi declared, “Why, I think it’s Bendy himself. That little mischievous munchkin.”

Murmurs ran throughout the crowd. Some of them were incredulous, while others were anxious.

Henry stepped forward. “Yes, we do have Bendy with us,” he called out. “But he’s—” The old animator glanced back specifically at Bendy, who gave him a huge smile. “He’s all right, and he is going to help us with a plan to stop Sammy and his forces.”

“Hope you have a great plan, Bobby, because here they come.” Porter pointed, and the forces of Lost City and Ink Harmony Park armed themselves as Sammy Lawrence, in his overalls and wearing a Bendy mask over his face, led his congregation of Lost Ones down a set of stairs and out onto the main street of the city.

Sammy shouted, “Forward. Soon we will reclaim this realm for Our Lord and prepare for his return!” at which the Lost Ones behind him stuck their fists into the air in a show of solidarity. “He will set us free.”

Henry leaned over to whisper into Audrey’s ear. “Whatever happens, just remember everyone will be here to back you up. We believe in you.”

“I appreciate that, Henry,” Audrey said. She smiled at him. Then she squeezed Bendy’s hand. “Ready?”

Even though the oncoming swarm made him shiver, Bendy wore a determined look and nodded his head.

“Here we go.”

The three of them stepped forward together along the street, while Sammy brandished an axe above his head and continued to encourage his congregation. “We are almost there, to the site of the putrid blemish on The Ink Demon’s world. Soon we will earn his favor over these ignorant fools. We will—” He paused, finally noticing them. “What is this?”

Yep, here we go, Audrey thought. “Sammy Lawrence!” she called. “Your ‘Lord’ is right here, and he doesn’t like what you’re doing.”

Bendy whistled.

“Silence, you foolish—wait.” Sammy jerked in surprise at the sight of Bendy. “Can it be?” Meanwhile, the congregation continued to stream into the street around, like ink gushing from an ink fountain. They clustered near the storefront, where boards to provide some protection against their assault had been nailed into place.

There were no reflective surfaces here. No windows in sight, which of course made Audrey think of Inky and the streets of New York City. She didn’t like how many Lost Ones from Sammy’s congregation were here already. Beside her, Henry cursed under his breath. But they had to press on with their plan and hope for success. It had to work, or else this whole place would turn into a battle zone.

“Your Lord wants to speak with you alone,” Audrey called, and Bendy nodded and whistled vigorously to show his agreement.

Some of the congregation readied their weapons, prepared to rush upon them anyway, but Sammy held up a hand to stop them. “Very well,” he said. “But only you and The Ink Demon, and not the one beside you.” Sammy gestured, and several Lost Ones from around him came forward to separate Henry from Audrey and Bendy, surrounding them in a circle.

Henry, and their friends from behind the barricade, grew tense and looked like they were ready to come tearing over to defend them. However, Audrey told Henry, “I’ll be okay,” and Henry reluctantly relayed it to the others. There were murmurs of consent, given only for their sake.

As Audrey and Bendy walked towards Sammy, however, Audrey could feel her heart racing. She was trying to stay strong. They had a plan. She needed to have confidence that everything would turn out all right in the end. The only thing was that carrying out their plan was much different than simply discussing it.

“Hey, Bendy,” Audrey said. “Do you remember back when you were too scared to leave the apartment? All the commotion, as well as what might be awaiting us there, terrified you.”

Bendy gazed up at her, looking uncertain.

“But then Inky stressed, in his own unique way, how important it was for you to overcome your fears.” Audrey smiled. “You did, and it opened so many new experiences for all of us. I was so happy for both of you, and proud.”

Bendy squeezed her hand tighter.

They reached Sammy, who stared at Bendy. “Oh, My Lord,” he gave a deep bow, “You have come at last to set us free.” He stepped closer to him, but Bendy retreated a step on impulse before this crazed soul.

“Speak to us, to your prophet and your sheep. I beg of you,” Sammy practically sang out. “Guide our movements to freedom.”

Hesitating, Bendy pulled out his notebook and wrote, “Please be nice.”

Sammy seemed flabbergasted by this message. “Why do you not speak, My Lord?” he begged, “Your voice has always echoed so powerfully in my head before. I await your voice.” Then he reached out for him, but Audrey stepped in the way.

“Bendy can’t speak in this form,” Audrey explained. “He has gotten good at writing, though. He could—”

“Who are you to speak so boldly of him?” Sammy snapped at her.

“My name is Audrey, and I just want to tell you—”

“Do you presume to speak on his behalf? To act as his prophet?” Sammy exclaimed, while his congregation rattled their various implements threateningly.

“No!” Audrey could feel the situation spiraling out of control. “I am trying—” That was as far as she got before Sammy rammed into her. He was swift, and he was forceful. Audrey barely registered what was happening as she went flying backwards and fell hard on her shoulder. It felt like fire was shooting up and down her arm, and she let out a shout of pain.

“Audrey!” voices cried out around the area.

“There can only be one prophet of The Ink Demon,” Sammy approached, raising his axe. “You are just a sheep!”

Bendy jumped in his path, and even through her agony, Audrey could hear the subtle trickling of ink oozing up from between the stones of the road and moving towards him. When the cartoonish imp turned to look at her, he wore the most peculiar expression Audrey had ever seen on his face. She would have had difficulty describing it, even if her mind was perfectly clear, but all she could say was that it was much older and angrier than she had ever expected to glimpse from him.

Then again, maybe it didn’t come from him.

“B-Bendy?” Audrey murmured, as Bendy turned back around to face Sammy. “Or… Inky?”

That’s when the explosion happened. One moment Bendy stood there in front of Audrey, and the next a geyser of ink erupted right where he had stood. The whole scene shifted in its tones and hues, twisted like a corroded photograph. A powerful heartbeat echoed through the air, and the ink that had seeped up from the ground appeared to wrap around and center itself about the now revealed form of Inky.

Audrey had gotten so used to seeing Inky as a reflection that she had forgotten how large he was physically. She had also forgotten just how skeletal his body was, with his ribs moving in and out as he breathed, and the spiky bones along his back. The fragrance of boiling ink hung in the air. However, Audrey could also plainly hear the wheezing and gurgling. She lifted a hand, starting to call out to him, when Inky roared right in Sammy's face.

Sammy’s knees knocked together in terror. “M-my lord…” he stammered, clutching his axe. “Mighty Ink Demon, heed me!”

A deep, throaty snarl rumbled throughout the street. “My. Name. Is. Inky!” With that, Inky whacked the axe out of Sammy’s hand. The blade flew with great force through the air and became embedded in a stone wall.

Facing a furious Inky glaring down at him was apparently too much for the self-proclaimed prophet. Sammy turned and ran.

“Where are you going, Sammy?” Inky sniggered. He charged, flinging members of the congregation in various directions with huge swipes of his claws. “I thought you wanted to talk.”

Chaos broke out on the street—especially when it came to the Lost Ones who had accompanied Sammy and now found him eager to abandon them to save his own life. Meanwhile, the residents of Lost City and everyone over at Ink Harmony seized the opportunity to fight back as well. Clots of ink went flying, alongside numerous objects like nuts and bolts, crates (from Big Steve), and numerous pizzas. The congregation members found themselves assaults on two sides—first by the swipes of Inky smacking them about, and the ones they had come to conquer.

There had been many members of the congregation, but without the driving force of Sammy to lead them on, they soon scattered, and the ones still capable of doing so retreated, heading back towards the safety of the sewers.

Henry navigated his way over to Audrey and helped her up. “I think you dislocated your shoulder,” he said, taking her off to one side as Lost Ones went sailing here and there or fell under the weight of amassed projectiles. “Give me a moment to fix it…”

“But Inky—”

There was another sharp pain as Henry snapped her bone back into place. The world seemed to sway along with her vision.

“Take it slow for a second,” Henry told her. “You will faint if you push yourself too hard right away.”

“Please get me to Inky,” Audrey pleaded. “Inky is enraged. He needs help.”

“I don’t know. I would say he is doing well on his own.” Henry and Audrey watched as Inky finally grabbed ahold of Sammy, lifted him up, and slammed him into the ground so hard it left a small crater. Sammy released a strangled gasp, coughing up ink.

“Nothing to say?” Inky wheezed, taunting him. “I thought you would be ecstatic to see me. You have waited for so long, after all.” He pressed a claw against Sammy’s chest. “Would you like me to set you free? To join The Dark Puddles? I am more than happy to oblige.” He gurgled, wheezed, sniggered, and snarled. The heartbeat echoing in the air was pounding at a rapid pace.

“My…. Lord…” Sammy gasped. “Please…”

“I will answer your prayers,” Inky snarled, “once and for all.” He opened his jaws.

“Inky, wait!” Audrey pulled away from Henry and ran towards him, only to stumble onto her knees, inches away. “Don’t do it.”

Inky whirled about and roared at her. The force of it almost sent Audrey trembling backwards. “Don’t tell me what to do!” he snarled right into her face.

Trembling not from fear so much as exertion, Audrey simply smiled. She reached up and patted the spot between his horns. “Calm down, Inky. Just take deep breaths, okay?’

Inky growled, but he didn’t move. Everything around them seemed to go silent. She gently placed her head against his and stroked the side of his face.

“It’s all right, Inky. I’m all right, and so are you,” Audrey soothed. “So, just breathe.” She demonstrated the same breathing technique she had done with Bendy, this time stroking Inky all the while. And Inky followed along.

The boisterous heartbeats in the air grew calmer, and the scene slowly reverted to its usual composition and hues as the ink across the ground dissolved.

“Good,” Audrey said. She pulled back a bit and smiled at him. “I knew you could control it.”

“I almost lost control,” Inky insisted. “I was the one who was right.” Then he lifted his head, appeared to take in the sight of all the onlookers they had, and snorted. “Don’t you have better things to do than hang off of me?”

They turned towards Sammy. “Oh, right,” Audrey said.

She crawled over to the small crater. “Okay, Sammy, let’s see what we can do for you,” Audrey murmured, reaching down and carefully grabbing the sides of his head.

A burst of light pulsed from her fingers and set Sammy’s head alight. The radiance streamed out of the eyeholes of the mask, and music appeared to fill Audrey’s head momentarily as well. A flicker of images wound their way across her vision, of performing music in huge concert halls, visiting a building reminiscent of The Ink World in many ways but clearly a place in the Real World, and having a shouting match not with her father this time, but another man. An all-too-familiar man, albeit much younger, dressed in a workman’s suit and a cap, and a name that Sammy shouted at him which rang throughout her mind.

Audrey gasped at the name at the same time as Sammy gasped.

The self-designated prophet sat up, cursing, and ripped the Bendy mask from his face and chucked it away. He continued to curse as everyone looked on, and now interspersed with the curses were allusions to Joey Drew and his pipes. It was certainly different than what Audrey had expected, although she honestly hadn’t known what to expect.

Audrey looked up at Henry. “He still seems kind of hostile,” she said. “Maybe the transfer didn’t work as well as it did for Norman?”

Henry, however, simply stared at the former music director. “No, I think that is just how Sammy was before the experiments. Remember his notes? And frankly, knowing Joey Drew, I don’t blame him.”

His rant finally winding down a bit, Sammy turned to look at them—and froze. He appeared surprised to see them staring at him. He blinked glowing golden eyes which, Audrey heard Henry mutter, he hadn’t remembered Sammy having until then. Sammy scanned the whole scene. “What the—”

Then he clutched at his head. “This place. My head.” He groaned. “Where did that Joey Drew slink off to now?”

Audrey tried to console him. “Sammy, I know this is a lot to take in…”

“Who are you?” Sammy looked at her, still clutching his head. Then he yelped at seeing Inky and fell backwards in a faint.

Seeing Sammy drop like that seemed to break the silent spell over the rest of the area. Cheers rang out. Lost Ones whooped from the upper windows of Lost City, while their other companions pushed through the barricade—mostly with the help of Big Steve—and approached.

“Now everyone is coming for a closer look. Just perfect,” Inky grumbled, coming to stand beside Audrey. Henry flinched at his proximity.

“Oh, give them a break, Inky,” Audrey said. “They were worried about their homes and prepared hard to defend themselves. You can’t begrudge them a little celebration.”

“Yes, I can,” Inky retorted. “Besides, there is still Alice Angel.”

The name dropped like a heavy stone amid their relief. Because Inky was right. They still had Alice Angel to face, and Betty to rescue. Audrey struggled to her feet. “We need to reach Wilson’s manor as soon as possible.” She started forward, only for one of Inky’s clawed hands to stop her.

“You are not running anywhere on your wobbly legs,” Inky huffed. “You,” he indicated Henry, “get Audrey on my back. We’re leaving.”

Henry chose this moment to show some boldness of his own. He crossed his arms. “My name is Henry.”

Inky grimaced, leaning towards him over Audrey. “You want to get into names right now, old man?”

“I might, Ink Demon,” Henry replied.

“Inky.”

“Henry.”

Audrey patted Inky on the side of his head. “Come on, Inky. Be nice.”

Inky snorted, and then grumbled, “Fine. Get Audrey on my back, Henry.”

“Gladly, Inky,” Henry returned, and soon Audrey was hanging onto Inky's back comfortably.

“Don’t you worry about anything. We’ll take care of cleanup here, Bobby,” Porter said, saluting her. “Go on and save your friend.” Similar cheers and wishes rang out from the crowd as Inky made his way among the throng to the steps that led up and away from the main street.

“Do you think Sammy will be okay?” Audrey asked.

Inky snorted dismissively, but Henry said, “I think he’ll be fine.”

“They did not run in terror from me,” Inky noted aloud. “They cheered me instead.”

Audrey smiled. “Well, they did watch you defend the city, and many of them saw you for the first time this Cycle.”

“I was not defending the city,” Inky rasped sulkily as Audrey stroked him between the horns. Then he growled, “You have something to say, Henry? I’m not going to give you a ride as well. You can walk.”

Henry appeared thoughtful. “Audrey was right. I can't believe I am saying this, but it seems that you have changed.”

“Not that much,” Inky rumbled.

“Even your form,” Henry said. “You looked different when you used to chase me.”

Audrey, who had only known Inky in his current form, stared between them in bafflement—although she said nothing.

Inky huffed, “Wilson performed numerous experiments on me, when he tore me apart.” That was all he needed to say. They fell into silence as they passed through the devastated room that overlooked Lost City, and through the broken window, Audrey saw Porter and Heidi kneeling beside Sammy and apparently trying to explain things to him while he listened, holding his legs. His attitude had completely changed.

Suddenly, Henry patted Inky on the shoulder.

Inky growled low in his throat but just kept walking.

A quiet understanding had just gotten exchanged, though, as they made their way to the subway.

Chapter Text

The ride to Wilson’s Manor took much longer than Audrey remembered. She kept getting flashbacks to her first trip using this subway system, when after a run-in with one of the Keepers, she had woken up opposite Wilson on the train—and Wilson had spoken to her of bringing things produced in The Ink World “out there” once he had brought everything “under control.” He had poured ink from a container, and it had assumed the shape of Bendy and waved at her.

Then Wilson had grabbed that sweet little creation and squeezed it without mercy until…

Audrey shuddered at the memory. At the wicked delight glimpsed in his face. To Wilson, The Ink World was a place to tame. His own personal wonderland to conquer and unleash on The Real World. But they had thwarted those attempts by defeating Wilson and the malformed monstrosity in his laboratory, right? They had won, so they just had to focus on the tense situation still in progress by saving Betty from Alice Angel, and then hopefully restoring the mind of Susie Campbell just as they had for Sammy Lawrence.

But those memories from Sammy had bothered her. She would have questions for him, if the former music director was up to it, after they settled everything at the manor. She looked down at her hand, which this time was tingling with the recollections they needed for Susie, since of course they had paused long enough for Wandering to transfer them to her before getting on the train.

And in the images that had passed before her eyes, she had seen her father again as his younger self, at first seeming so jolly and hopeful, until he wasn’t any longer. She had seen Susie being inconsolable and tearing away from Sammy’s arm as crowds passed her on their way to interview Allison Pendle, and she had seen her father looking so jolly again as he spoke to her of participating in a grand experiment that could make her famous. Then men in Gent uniforms had led her away… somewhere dark.

Audrey shuddered again.

“How’s that arm doing?” Henry asked from the seat beside her, startling Audrey back into the present. “You can doze off for a while if you like. I’ll make sure to wake you up once we get to the station.”

Audrey rubbed her shoulder. “It throbs a bit,” she admitted. “But I’m feeling much better.” What she failed to throw in was that her stomach kept churning, and fingers of anxiety continued to crawl down her spine. A small voice in the back of her mind demanded that she follow Henry’s advice and take a nap, however short, for what lay ahead of them.

The rest of her, though, refused to cooperate and settle down completely. There was too much to do.

“You had better not faint on us again,” Inky growled. He had wedged himself into the aisle between the seats and was resting his head on the seat to her other side. “It would be annoying to carry you around and deal with Bendy panicking.”

“Thank you for your concern.” Audrey reached over to stroke him along the horns, and he gurgled softly in response.

“I could hear him whistling in my head, when I was struggling to stay in control,” Inky grumbled. “In addition to you bothering me, he refused to leave me alone.”

“But you did stay in control.”

“I was aware of the Dark Puddles. Of ‘Wandering,’ as you called them. They told me that we would always be connected, but that I could focus on being myself.” Inky snorted. “As if they were a spring of wisdom or something.”

The thought of a “spring” caught at Audrey’s ear in an odd way and made her think of the art exhibition at the Met, and of the story told by the old gentleman about it—the Spring of Dreams. She sighed and leaned back against the seat, feeling herself zone out again.

A whistle echoed throughout the train. Audrey and Henry jumped in their seats, then glanced up to see that in the reflection of the seats along the opposite windows was a familiar figure.

“Bendy?” Audrey breathed in astonishment, right before the whole thing made sense. After all, if Inky appeared as a reflection while Bendy was out and about in The Real World, it only followed that Bendy would appear as a reflection when Inky was physically present.

Inky groaned as if Bendy making himself known in this manner opened the door to more annoyances.

Audrey waved at Bendy, and the cartoonish imp waved back at her. Henry, however, gazed between Bendy and Inky, and back again, while still trying get over his own amazement. It was the first time he had seen either of them as a reflection.

Taking advantage of the current circumstances, Bendy walked up to the reflection of Audrey, brought his fingers up, and mimicked gently pulling the edges of her lips up into a smile—which, of course, made Audrey smile for real. Then he hopped onto the seat beside Henry’s reflection, pretended to lean against him, and offered a comically large grin.

His antics were enough to cause a small smile to cross Henry’s solemn features and for the older animator to decide to play along. Henry moved his hand as if behind Bendy’s head and lifted two fingers, which he wiggled like bunny ears.

Bendy sat up straight at this point, his pie-cut eyes wide in awe. He reached up as if to feel for the fingers. Then he squeaked in happiness and did the same thing to Henry’s reflection.

“There are places that sell fake fluffy bunny ears back home,” Audrey murmured thoughtfully. “That might be cute.”

The squeaking from Bendy intensified.

“Don’t encourage him.” Inky laid a hand across his face. “Bendy is bothersome enough when it comes to bunnies.”

“Oh, leave Bendy alone,” Audrey said as she patted Inky on the head. “He doesn’t make a fuss that you like monster stories.”

“Monsters are better than silly little bunnies,” Inky rasped.

Bendy frowned and pulled out his notebook, which his reflection apparently had retained. “Bunnies are nice, and everyone likes bunnies,” he wrote. “Bunnies are better.”

“Monsters.”

“Bunnies.”

“Monsters!”

“Bunnies!” Bendy added an exclamation mark to his message, then held it over his head.

“Come on, you two, get along,” Audrey broke in at this point. She rose to her feet, and then nearly went tumbling sideways when the train jerked.

The two demons turned in alarm, and Inky shot an arm around Audrey to steady her.

“Thank you, Inky,” Audrey murmured.

“If you had any common sense, you wouldn’t need me to save you—again.”

“Sorry,” Audrey said, regaining her seat, “and thank you—again. That was brave of both of you.”

Bendy beamed at the compliment, while Inky grumbled low in his throat.

Meanwhile, Henry had watched these proceedings with a bemused look that gradually gave way to outright amusement. He asked, “Is this how you three normally are at home?”

“All the time,” Audrey confirmed with a smile.

“I can see why your messages related to life in The Real World are so lively,” Henry said. “And now I agree with what you’ve told me about them.”

Bendy wrote in his notebook, “What did you tell him, Audrey?”

“She told me that you had become a family,” Henry replied instead. Then, after the smiles and grumbles that followed this declaration, he added, “By the way, what do Bendy and Inky think about ‘monster bunnies?’”

With rapid speed, Inky and Bendy asked, in their own unique ways, “You can do that?”

Henry looked surprised by their enthusiasm. “I guess that answers my question.” He managed another smile, although it drooped soon afterwards. “It shouldn't be much longer now. We will need to stay cautious.”

When the train pulled into the station, Butcher Gang members were swarming the platform. They came in several forms—from a vaguely humanoid male figure that had a slack-jawed mouth (a Piper), to a miniature crane-like specimen (a Fisher), to a spidery creature with a set of jaws atop its head (a Striker). Yet another one wore a small hat and had a sewn-up mouth (a Slicer).

Coming across even one Butcher Gang member during Audrey’s trek through the studio had presented a challenge. They had tended to pop out of nowhere and attack her before running off, especially when it came to the figure with the sewn-up mouth. She had never figured out a way to effectively protect herself against them.

Audrey and Henry braced themselves for a fight. Henry had boarded the train with a wrench in his back pocket, but he also had a Gent pipe that he passed over to Audrey as the doors slid open. They were just about to launch into the fray until clawed hands reached between and nudged them aside.

“I can handle these clowns,” Inky growled, albeit his grimace was smug. He pushed out onto the platform, where the Butcher Gang members proved themselves to be foolhardy and mindless by trying to attack him.

Inky slammed his clawed hand onto the ground. Ink surged out from the spot, streaming across the platform. The scene tinted, albeit only slightly as opposed to in Lost City, and the heartbeat Audrey heard echoing through the air was far calmer and regular than during their confrontation with Sammy and his congregation.

One after the other, the Butcher Gang members melted. They fell apart amid the ink like toppled sand sculptures, and by the time the ink dissolved, and everything grew quiet again, all of them were gone.

Inky flexed the claws of the hand he had used in the assault, then turned to Audrey and Henry. “Well?” His grimace had grown especially wide.

“That was… impressive,” Audrey said. She clapped her hands together. “I hadn’t realized the Butcher Gang would just fall apart like that. Could your ink always do that?”

“To Butcher Gang members,” Inky rasped. “No one can beat me in wiping them away.”

“Your humility is commendable,” Henry muttered.

“Good of you to notice.” It was hard to tell if Inky was being sincere at that moment, although Audrey had a feeling that she knew the answer. She might have even made a comment about it if Inky hadn’t gone on, “While you are being so appreciative, Henry, there are more of them near the entrance to the manor. Draw them over here, won’t you?”

Henry looked blank for a moment. “Why do I need to draw them here?”

Inky scowled at him, as if indignant that he would dare to question his methods. “Because I cannot go there, all right?” he growled. “Not as I am. Get it?”

“The signal towers…” Audrey gasped, realizing. “They’re active again?”

“It seems you cannot feel their influence from this distance, Audrey, but I can,” Inky said. “You will lose your abilities in there. Oh yes, and so will Henry, I guess.”

The signal towers. Audrey hadn’t thought that they would be up and running again. She had deactivated them during the last Cycle, dodging around Keepers to reach the power center in the basement levels of Wilson’s Manor. She had had many close calls around those monsters, and it had been a measure of their taste for viciousness that Wilson couldn’t—or perhaps simply wouldn’t—get them to leave her alone, even while she was technically his guest.

Perhaps they could take on however many Butcher Gang members were still in the manor, but they would need to be careful about it. If only they could deactivate them again, it would make their lives much easier, especially if the swarm that had met them at the station had been a prelude to what they would come across inside.

If she kept dwelling on it, the weariness tugging her might gain the upper hand. Audrey needed to do something to take her mind off such problems. “I’ll draw them here,” she volunteered.

“Wait, not you!” Inky snapped.

But Audrey was already heading up the gated aisle towards the steps that led up towards the manor. “Just be ready for me, okay?” she called over her shoulder, and then she was moving past trash cans and various other pieces of debris.

The Butcher Gang forces she came upon clogged the inspection area where, once upon a time, Audrey had needed to surrender her Gent pipe to the Keepers. She reached the base of the steps when the effects of the signal tower hit her. They extended out farther than she recalled from the last Cycle and nearly bent her double as the pulse rippled through her. The edges of her vision brightened, and she let out an involuntary shout—which was enough to catch the attention of the Butcher Gang. They whirled about and came tearing towards her.

Audrey struggled beyond the signal towers’ range, felt the glowing warmth of her powers return, and used them to flow up the aisle towards the opening into the station. The extra berth was a blessing, since her pursuers, specifically the sewn-mouth specimen, were speedy.

Two of them reached her as she entered the station area. Audrey whirled around and struck a Striker a glancing blow on the side of the head. Meanwhile, a Slicer that grabbed for her from the other side received a wallop from the wrench wielded by Henry.

Then it was Inky’s turn. He sent a wave of ink up the aisle, and the Butcher Gang drowned in its undertow. They disappeared just as easily as the ones that had met them.

“Whew!” Audrey wiped an arm across her brow. “That was close.”

“Too close,” Inky growled. He placed a clawed hand on her shoulder and turned her around. He was gurgling faintly. “Don’t do it again. Not that I think you will listen.”

His concern, as characteristically roughly as it had been delivered, caused unexpected tears to gather in her eyes.

“Crying again?” Inky sounded bewildered, and as he stood there gurgling, Audrey took the opportunity to come forward and wrap her arms around him in a hug. His chest was quite warm, she noted, wondering if that had always been the case, or if it was somehow the results of all the developments in The Ink World.

The gurgling picked up speed. It was clear that Inky wasn’t sure what to do next.

Then he gently wrapped his arms around her and rasped in her ear, “You had better be careful. You promised to take us to Coney Island.” And without waiting for her response, he transformed in her hold. Audrey could practically feel the ink that made up Inky’s form warping and dissolving in the atmosphere, until she was left holding Bendy, who gave her a concerned little smile.

Audrey squeezed him in a gentle hug and set him down. “The Butcher Gang members in the inspections area are gone now, but it’s likely we’ll run into more. A lot more.”

“If we can meet up with Allison and Tom, we will be on steadier ground,” Henry said. “Also, Allison went over the layout of the manor with me, and while I’m not as well-versed in it as she is, I think I can recall where there’s a vent that could help us out.”

“All right, then,” Audrey said, taking Bendy by the hand. “We have an Angel to meet.”

Chapter Text

Even though they had cleared out the Butcher Gang there, Audrey, Bendy, and Henry still crept towards the inspections area as if a few stragglers might burst out upon them. Audrey was ready for the effects of the signal towers this time and braced herself accordingly. Meanwhile, Bendy shuddered when the sensation washed over him, swaying a bit as if off-balance—but when he noticed her looking at him in concern, he straightened up and gave her a thumbs-up with his free hand.

Henry, who had clearly felt at least some of the effects as well, muttered what might have been a curse under his breath.

Soon they peered around the doorframe into the foyer of the manor. When Wilson had first escorted her there, the place had made Audrey think of one of the fancier hotels in New York, the kind only the wealthiest businessowners could afford. In other words, it was a great deal like a miniature palace. A crystal chandelier hung from the rafters, rich carpeting covered the floor, and there was an actual fountain near the base of a grand staircase that led up to the next landing.

Bendy whistled softly at the scene.

“Wilson sure didn’t do anything halfway, did he?” Henry muttered, solemn and bitter. “I wonder if he even used half of these rooms, or if he just liked the thought of owning them.” His face was hard.

Audrey’s gaze, meanwhile, traveled up to the painting on the wall at the top of the stairs, which depicted a scene where Wilson struck a victorious pose while Inky shrunk back in implied horror before his greatness. The image churned her stomach.

In many ways, she supposed, Wilson’s mind had been far more twisted than Alice Angel’s mind was now—except he had chosen each step of his development, until he had transformed into a maniac. Even if she had chosen to use her powers on him, there would have been nothing to restore…

Then the realization struck her.

“Henry,” she murmured, “the transfer of memories won’t work on Alice until we deactivate the signal towers. Or maybe unless we can trick her into leaving the manor.”

“Let’s focus on getting safely inside first, and then we can figure out all the details,” Henry said, right before they hurriedly drew further back around the doorframe. A Piper was walking along the upper landing. It passed the portrait and continued to hobble down the hall and out of sight.

Henry’s frown deepened. “It probably won’t be too long before other patrols come through this area. We need to be quick.” He pointed to a door off to one side of the foyer. “According to the layout Allison showed me, that is a storage room with a vent we can use to make our way further into the manor safely.”

“Okay, then.” Audrey squeezed Bendy’s hand. “Are you ready, little guy?”

Bendy nodded.

“Good.”

They darted for the door and tried the knob. It turned, thank goodness, and started to open—only to get stuck in an ajar position. Audrey, Henry, and Bendy yanked at the edge of the door to force a wide enough aperture for them to get through. But then Bendy paused, suddenly thoughtful, and considered the situation while tapping his foot.

His face brightened with an idea. Bendy walked up to the ajar door, flattened himself as much as possible against the wall, and pushed himself into the room. It was like magic. One moment the imp was sticking his foot and leg into the narrow opening, and the next he had slipped through with a soft popping sound. Then, as Audrey and Henry stared at him in amazement, Bendy reached out with one gloved hand, palm up and fingers flexing, as if inviting one of them to grab ahold of his hand.

Could it really be that simple? Audrey wondered. She could, of course, recall when she had stuck her hand down the drain of her kitchen sink. She was inhumanly flexible, just like Bendy. Like a cartoon. She had just been so used to doing everything normally and keeping herself within the same limits as the regular people in the Real World that she had forgotten the special flexibility she had even without access to her other abilities.

Audrey reached out and took Bendy’s hand, following his example by flattening herself hard against the wall and pushing herself through the crack. Bendy pulled on her from the other side until, with another pop, she completely slipped into the storage room.

They did the same thing for Henry, just managing to get him inside before they heard another member of the Butcher Gang, this time a Fisher, coming down the stairs. Closing the door, they were plunged into absolute darkness and stood there listening as the Fisher drew closer and closer. Everything grew silent, then, as the Fisher made odd little guttural noises nearby. But, at last, they heard the creature amble away by up the stairs and strained their ears until everything became quiet again.

Three sighs of relief shattered the stillness.

“Hang on a minute,” Henry murmured. “Let’s move slowly along the wall until we come across a light switch or the vent.” He began to move them in one direction, only to meet resistance from the other end.

The resistance came from Bendy, who tugged in the other direction. He whistled softly but urgently, and Audrey followed his lead. Tugged in this way, Henry followed along without any fuss. The crept along the wall a few steps before the room suddenly flooded with light.

Bendy had flipped on the light switch.

Blinking in the sudden brightness, Audrey smiled down at him. “That was incredible, little guy. How did you know the light switch was there?”

Bendy pulled out his notebook. He wrote, “I noticed it when the door was open a little. Also…” He paused, thinking about his next words carefully. “I can find my way around in the dark.”

“Like a sixth sense?” Henry asked.

“I knew where everything was,” Bendy wrote, doing his best to explain it. “I could sense things in the room. I always did when I would hide in the darkness.”

Audrey thought about it. About those times when Bendy had run off, disappearing into cracks and crannies all over the place. Inky had been able to slip into the ink and away from sight, navigating the studio while connected with Wandering or the Dark Puddles, so maybe Bendy could do something similar—at least in terms of navigating the darkness.

Strange, but helpful.

About as strange and helpful as being able to squeeze through narrow openings.

“Wow, Bendy, that’s very impressive as well, Bendy. I should have known you could do something like that.” Audrey got down on one knee and patted him on the head. “And you really saved us from getting noticed by the Fisher.”

Bendy’s grin grew so wide that Audrey wouldn’t have been surprised if it had stretched off the sides of his face. But then he flinched, and his head turned towards a spot between some crates along the far wall, where there was the vent.

Henry and Audrey stepped forward, their weapons at the ready as the vent creaked open to reveal…

“Allison! Tom!” Audrey exclaimed. She and Henry lowered their weapons in relief.

Allison’s face, prepared for anything, softened at spotting them. “Tom and I thought we heard you down this way. You made it.” She paused. “What happened in Lost City?”

They exchanged information while seated on the crates around the room. Audrey and Henry took turns relating the events in Lost City, including the way Inky had emerged to defeat Sammy while the residents had fought back against his congregation in their own unique ways. Expressions of surprise mixed with relief crossed Allison and Tom’s face as the tale unfolded.

“The Ink Demon really worked to save Lost City?” Allison murmured, while Tom continued to stare at Bendy suspiciously.

Henry nodded. “It’s hard to believe, I know,” he said. “I think he was mostly coming to Audrey’s defense, just like Bendy, but Inky seems to have changed this Cycle into someone, well…” he trailed off as he searched for the right words, before he finally just said, “Being with Audrey has been a good influence on him.”

The fact that Henry had called him “Inky” clearly wasn’t lost on Allison, who blinked in wonder at him. Meanwhile, Tom continued to growl at Bendy, as if warning him not to try anything.

Audrey put a comforting arm around Bendy, focused on Allison, and asked, “Okay, so what has been happening here?” which led to another short briefing.

As Wandering had reported earlier on, Alice Angel had had Betty prepare an extravagant banquet for her, and upon a dining table near Alice Angel’s study in the North Wing was a spread with enough food to feed an army. However, none of the Butcher Gang members so much as touched a morsel. And from what Allison could tell, the whole idea had been suggested to her by Betty.

Perhaps through her past experiences with Wilson, the housekeeper had stalled for time by quietly and courteously appealing to Alice Angel’s vanity. She had insinuated that the “Queen of a Palace” deserved to enjoy a lavish celebration of the victory over the whole studio, including a feast prepared to share with Sammy Lawrence after his triumph in Lost City and Ink Harmony Park.

Betty had then taken her time creating each dish, stressing the need to get everything just right for “Her Highness” whenever Alice Angel got especially impatient and threatened her. She even seemed to know exactly how far to push her luck—another skill that she had also probably acquired through having dealt with Wilson and his volatile nature.

Allison and Tom had learned such things by crawling through the vents, one of which passed right by the kitchen, where dishes now crowded the counters and Betty continued to work at a methodically slow but thorough pace. Most of the time, Alice Angel even left her alone in that room, albeit there were Butcher Gang members watching the door.

“If you could reach her in the kitchen, where she was alone, why didn’t you get her to climb into the vents to safety?” Henry demanded, rising to his feet. The hardness that Audrey had noticed in his face as they had entered the manor cracked, and anger showed through.

“Calm down, Henry,” Allison said, gesturing him to sit down. Tom barked at him as well and pointed downwards with one mechanical finger, and Henry at last flopped back atop a crate. “We encouraged her to come with us, but she wouldn’t.”

“What?” Audrey perked up, and Bendy cocked his head in puzzlement.

Allison, however, maintained eye contact with Henry, as if pleading for him to understand. “We insisted that we were there to help and rescue her, if possible—but Betty said that it was safer for everyone involved if she kept Alice busy by serving her. If she disappeared, Betty said Alice might get suspicious and send some of the Butcher Gang, including something called a ‘Giant Boy’ to Lost City, or even have them search throughout the manor. Betty even managed to dissuade Alice from sending Butcher Gang members into the vents after what Alice termed “vermin” at least once, when she heard us moving around.

“Inky wiped out two groups of the Butcher Gang in the subway,” Audrey said.

“But there are many, many other swarms of them throughout the manor.” Allison shook her head. “Alice clearly spent a great deal of time gathering all of them together, and all of them are tough to defeat.” She rubbed the sheathe slung across her back.

Audrey tightened her grip on the Gent pipe. “We need to take out the signal towers, so I can use my powers against Alice.”

“There is one of them is active in the basement,” Allison reported, “while the other one is in Alice’s study.”

Audrey knew both places very well. She could remember them vividly. In the dining room area of Alice’s Study, she had been forced to participate in a puzzle and flip a switch, which would have electrocuted her if done incorrectly. Instead, it had done the same thing to several Lost Ones tied up around the table, although most of them had seemed to survive and had assaulted her afterwards. As for the basement, that had been where numerous Keepers lurked.

As she shuddered at such recollections, Allison continued, “From what we can tell, the basement has the largest swarms of the Butcher Gang, but the study has, of course, Alice—and Alice is armed with a tommy gun and a smaller group of Butcher Gang members.

“I was able to use a Gent pipe to deactivate the signal towers before.” Audrey lifted her Gent pipe. “But this one isn’t charged.”

Allison smiled at this point. “Oh, that shouldn’t be a problem. Tom, a little help?”

With a curt nod, Tom went to move several crates away from one corner of the storage room, revealing a small charging station. He pulled a battery out of his pocket and slipped it into a small door in a box at one corner of what appeared to be a desk, and the charging station came to life. Then he turned and gestured with his mechanic fingers for Audrey to hand over her pipe, which she did.

Tom stuck the pipe in a horizontal slot atop and worked the crank at the end. There was a whirling noise as electricity fizzed across the pipe until, with a sudden popping noise, the process stopped. When he handed it back to Audrey, she could practically feel the power surging just under its surface.

“Just in case you were wondering, by the way, we did manage to find another Gent pipe here. We hid a few weapons in here to help us out for when you came.” Allison grabbed one from behind another crate and threw it to Tom, who proceeded to charge that one up as well using another battery.

Once it was done, Henry came over to retrieve it. “Let me handle that one. I can deactivate the signal tower in Alice Angel’s study.”

Allison and Tom exchanged a significant look.

“I’ll come with you, Henry,” Allison volunteered. Between us, we should be able to get the job done. Which means,” she looked at Audrey, “you will need to handle the signal tower in the basement.” She also turned to Tom. “Please go with Audrey, all right, and help her out.” They exchanged more meaningful glances. “And make sure she stays safe.”

Tom was clearly reluctant to be apart from Allison. He stared at Bendy, clearly still disapproving, but then reached a decision. The cartoon wolf gave a curt nod, and Allison gently touched his snout. “I know I can count on you,” Allison murmured to him.

Meanwhile, Audrey nodded and stroked Bendy between the horns. “It is probably best for us to go to the basement, anyway. Once we shut down the signal towers, Inky can come and wipe out the Butcher Gang swarms that are there.”

Tom growled. He barked at Audrey as if shouting something and pointed at Bendy, shaking his head.

Allison sighed and came over to lay a hand on Audrey’s shoulder. “Listen, I understand that you have a lot of faith in The Ink Demon. However, you should still be careful. Everything may have worked out all right in Lost City and for Ink Harmony Park, but—”

“Inky is trustworthy,” Audrey cut her off, meeting her glance-for-glance and feeling anger boil up within her as well. “I know you don’t believe in him, but I do.” She was an inch away from Allison when Bendy gently tugged on her hand and whistled in concern. Audrey glanced down at him, and then sighed. “Sorry,” she told Allison.

With that, Audrey and Bendy headed for the vent, although Audrey paused just long enough to call to over her shoulder, “Please lead the way, Tom.”

After a quick glance at Allison, Tom grabbed an axe from behind one of the crates and slipped into the vent. Audrey and Bendy followed him.

***

Henry followed Allison a short while after Tom, Audrey, and Bendy left. As he followed her on his hands and knees along the airshafts, taking various turns past grates that looked out on the hallway and elsewhere, the silence felt as if it were choking him. Of course, Henry could easily get lost in his own thoughts by imagining Betty moving between the kitchen and the nightmarish place where Alice Angel was holding the banquet. If the slightest thing went wrong, that crazed angel would likely reach down by her side, grab the tommy gun, and… no, it wouldn’t help anyone to think that way.

They would save her. He would save her.

Alice Angel wouldn’t take her heart away.

Betty was waiting to find out that everything was all right and doing what she could in the meantime.

“Henry,” Allison said quietly. “Can I ask you something?”

Shaken from his private resolutions, Henry jerked. But then he replied, “Of course you can, Allison.”

“You were there in Lost city with them. Has The Ink Demon really changed that much? After all these years?” Allison didn’t stop or look back at him as she pressed on, “The Ink Demon has been the terror of this studio for decades. Then he lives with Audrey for a few months, and we’re supposed to accept that he is completely different now and sorry for everything he has done?” She shook her head. “I find that hard to believe.”

Henry considered her words for a long while, and they fell into silence again until he said, “I don’t think he is completely different. He’s still stubborn, aggressive, and egotistical.” He paused, momentarily wondering where he had been going with this speech, then persisted, “However, something monumental must have happened between them while in the Real World. Between Audrey, Inky, and Bendy. ‘The Ink Demon’ got taken outside the studio. He got to lead another life altogether. It must have been quite an experience, considering some of the recordings and notes I’ve come across in the past regarding him.”

“What kind of recordings?” Allison sounded curious.

“It would take too long to explain right now.” Henry sighed. “Anyway, at first in this Cycle, I was kind of envious of him, honestly,” Henry muttered, surprising himself, and then realizing how much truth there was in it. “For so long, I’d hoped to leave the studio and return to the life I thought was waiting for me elsewhere. I lost hope and fell into despair. But nowadays I am excited about the latest changes in Ink Harmony Park, and I am blown away by the renovations in Lost City, and now I am ready to throttle Alice Angel for someone I—” He coughed to clear his throat at this point. “My point is that our world has never seen anyone like Audrey before. She is the hope we’ve all been waiting for.”

Another thoughtful pause.

“Maybe it is time for me to believe as well,” Allison whispered.

***

Audrey and Bendy followed Tom on a gradual slope downwards until, at last, they reached a grate in the basement. Peering through it, they could see a room with bookshelves and a miracle station. The vent let out right where, in the last Cycle, there had been a filing cabinet. Audrey took a deep breath to steady her nerves and noticed Bendy shivering beside her.

“It’s going to be okay, little guy,” she assured him. “I remember where to go next. From this room, we’ll turn right and head into another room, where there should be a switch to one side that we can use to turn off the signal tower. Nice and easy, all right?”

Even though he was clearly still nervous, Bendy nodded.

“I just hope that even if the other signal tower is still up and running, our powers will come back while in this area.”

Bendy whistled, looking pleased. He leaned against Audrey, and then came over to show some comradery by leaning against Tom, which was a mistake. The cartoon wolf snapped at him, and Bendy scampered backwards.

“I know you’re distrustful of Bendy, Tom,” Audrey said, “but he really is okay.”

Tom just grunted and went to open the grate—only to pull back right away as there came the sounds of a Piper hobbling into the small room. They sat there, watching, as the Piper reached the miracle station, looked around, and then turned and slowly hobbled away.

A few minutes afterwards, Bendy cocked his head, listening, and wrote in his notebook, “They are not in the next room right now.”

Audrey smiled. “Good, then I guess we should get moving.”

Tom led the way, pushing off the grate, and all three of them edged to the opening into the next room, being extra cautious. They peered around the corner. There wasn’t anyone in the next room, although Audrey did note that the floor space off the left, including the second floor reached by a ladder just across the way, were shrouded in shadows like someone had switched off all the lights there.

To the right, though, they could peer into another room that was better lit. At one time, Audrey had needed to slip past the Keepers there and throw a switch to open a door back up to Wilson’s Manor. This time, there was just an open space and in front of the large steel door on the far end, while the alcove where Audrey had found the switch was completely consumed by darkness. However, along a partition on the other side of the room was a power switch with thick cables that Audrey knew was behind the signal towers on this level.

It was in sight. Maybe, just maybe, switching off the signal tower would be easy in this case, and then they could rush back up to help Henry and Allison against Alice Angel.

They started to move, but Bendy urgently tugged on Audrey’s hand, and on Tom’s overalls, even though Tom whirled around to bark at him.

“What is it, Bendy?” Audrey asked, as Bendy hurriedly wrote in his notebook, “A lot of bad guys. The Butcher Gang.”

Tom grunted, as if the point were obvious and not worth noting, but Audrey recognized there was more to the message than just a general observation. She asked, “Where are they?”

Bendy wrote, “There are a lot of the bad guys are over there, moving around. They are coming very close.” He pointed to all the darkness to their left.

“We should hurry,” Audrey said, but Bendy tugged on her hand again.

“There is also something big in that room.” Bendy wrote, pointing right, to the room where they needed to go. He shivered. “Very big.”

“All right, we’ll just move along as quietly as possible.” Audrey patted him on the head. “Thank you for the warning, Bendy.”

Tom looked at Bendy, seemed to wrestle with something for a moment, and then nodded at him and grunted in confirmation.

They hurried, but as quietly as possible, across the room to the next one, while Tom covered them in the rear and Bendy turned his head this way and that, listening. Everything stayed quiet as they moved into the next room. The switch was only a short distance away.

Then Bendy whistled shrilly, pointing upwards, and Tom grabbed Audrey and Bendy and yanked them off to one side the largest Piper any of them had ever seen came crashing down in the spot where they had just stood, making the floor rock. The creature towered above them, and its head knocked slightly against the ledge of the second landing. It held a large pipe in one gnarled hand, looked down at them, and released a screech.

To make matters worse, they could hear the hurried footsteps of other Butcher Gang members coming from the next room and crawling out of the shadowed alcove where the switch for the steel door had been located.

“Okay,” Audrey muttered, as she squeezed Bendy’s hand, “so it’s not so easy, after all. I guess we’ve just met the ‘Giant Boy.’”

***

They had reached Alice Angel’s Study. Henry had never been this way, and he noted all the bookcases along the sides of the room, with a ladder leading up to a second floor. There was also, in plain sight, the signal tower—albeit with a set of Butcher Gang members standing around it.

The other problem was that this signal tower was easily visible from the next room over, where Alice Angel herself sat in a large, cushioned chair before the table loaded down with a smorgasbord of dishes and delights. Betty must have spent hours setting everything up.

“Did you know, Little Errand Girl, that Sammy and I go way, way back? We were sweethearts.” Alice Angel told Betty as the housekeeper adjusted the places settings around the table. Her voice was higher-pitched and overly cutesy—which was the best way Henry could describe it.

“Oh my, that is lovely, Your Highness,” Betty said as she inched a crystal wineglass just a bit further to the right beside a polished white plate. “I would never have guessed.”

Alice Angel pounded a fist onto the armrest of her chair so loudly that the reverberation echoed throughout the study. “Of course, you wouldn’t!” she shouted, her voice suddenly deepening and become far more spiteful and hostile. “Someone as silly as you could never even begin to understand the kind of happiness Sammy and I had.”

“No, I couldn’t, I suppose…” Betty kept her face, even hidden as it was behind her mask, averted.

“And yet someone like you had a lover boy,” Alice Angel scoffed. “Tell me, did he bring you pretty flowers and compliment your beauty?”

Betty slowly shook her head, and in the ventilation system, Henry felt his blood—or would it be ink?—boiling.

“Sammy used to praise my beauty all the time,” Alice Angel’s voice dropped back into a higher-pitched melodiousness. “He loved to bring me flowers. Red, red roses that he would place in my dressing room. I had a dressing room, of course.” She giggled, and it sounded discordant compared to her usual fury. “He even hinted that he was going to pop the question any day, so I could be ready for it. He knew I would want to get my hair just right.”

Betty paused. “‘Pop the question?’”

Alice Angel clasped her hands together, the exposed jaws on the bottom of her warped face lifted in frenzied delight. “He was going to ask me to marry him!” she sighed, and then frowned. “Then he went crazy.” Her voice hardened again. Her fingers dug into the armrests of her chair. “He forgot all about me and started talking about ‘His Lord’ this and ‘The Machine’ before I even knew what those disgusting things were. Before I went crazy.”

Her voice went quiet, and she bowed her head. “But don’t worry, sweet Susie,” she murmured. “Someday we’ll make it all right again. We’ll return to those fanciful days when you voiced Alice Angel, everyone loved you, and you were beautiful. We’ll make you beautiful again. We’ll make you beautiful very soon. I know how to make you beautiful again.”

As Alice Angel continued to murmur such things, Henry turned to Allison in the airshaft. “We need to get Betty out of there right now.”

“There are two grates in the dining room, and of course there is one we’re at right now,” Allison said. “It’ll be tricky, but I think the best we can do is—”

“Shall I go and get the cake, then?” Betty asked, calmly and quietly. Even so, her voice seemed to shatter all the other discussions taking place.

Allison fell silent as she and Henry listened to the proceedings.

Alice Angel’s head whipped up, “What?” she snapped.

“The cake, your highness,” Betty said. “It has taken a while, I’m sorry to say, but it should be ready to present.” She patted an empty place on the table. “A wonderful surprise for your Sammy.”

Alice Angel stared at her for a long while, almost as if she had forgotten all about her. But then she scowled and said, “Yes, Little Errand Girl, I guess it is about time for you to get the final bit to make the feast complete. I have so enjoyed our ‘girl talk.’”

Betty curtsied politely and headed towards a door that was out of sight from their perspective. However, Allison whispered to Henry that it was the kitchen. However, they did see Alice Angel reach down and pick up the tommy gun. She caressed it. “One more bit for the table, and then a heart to make me beautiful once we escort our Little Errand Girl to the laboratory.” She cackled. “Now that is the best dessert of all.”

“You know the way to the kitchen,” Henry said to Allison.

Allison nodded and shuffled along the vents. “Come on.”

***

It was absolute pandemonium in the basement. The “Giant Boy” Piper brought down his large pipe, and Audrey, Tom, and Bendy barely managed to get out of the way. Meanwhile, other members of the Butcher Gang were swarming into the room.

Tom shoved Audrey towards the power switch for the signal tower. He barked as if telling her to hurry, and ducked under a blow by the Giant Boy Piper, which this time struck the wall. Dust and debris flew everywhere, and Tom whimpered as it struck him in the face. He rubbed at his eyes as the Butcher Gang closed in.

Meanwhile, Audrey was trying to dodge around other gang members coming her way as she headed for the switch, but they were crowding too thickly around her.

Then Bendy gave a great whistle, catching the attention of every Butcher Gang member in the room. It was incredible how all their heads twisted away from Audrey and Tom at the sharp noise. The little guy was shimmying up the ladder to the shadowed second floor.

Tom was able to get the dust out of his eyes as the Giant Boy Piper noticed Bendy and reeled back in readiness to smash him.

“Bendy, look out!” Audrey cried.

Gripping the axe hard, Tom rushed over and slashed at the Giant Boy Piper’s legs. The end of the axe stuck into the gooey mess, and the result was like watching an enormous tree topple backwards, with the giant crashing down atop a huge patch of the swarm behind him.

Audrey heaved a sigh of relief, then rushed for the powerful box as, behind her, the Giant Boy Piper managed to grab ahold of Tom and lift him up.

She stuck her Gent pipe into a socket and flipped the switch.

There was a great fizzing as the signal tower switched off. She felt a rush of energy flow through her again.

Her powers were back, and from the second-floor landing, there came an eruption of ink. It dripped off onto the floor, and the Giant Boy Piper looked up just in time to see Inky come leaping down, slashing into the creature as ink seeped from around him.

The Giant Boy Piper exploded into ooze, and Tom landed on the floor right beside Inky. They regarded each other for a moment before Inky picked up the axe and plunked it into Tom's lap. “You dropped this,” Inky said, before he leaped into a mass of Butcher Gang creatures and wiped several of them out with his ink.

Tom blinked at Inky, then gripped his axe and jumped into the fray. Audrey joined them a moment later

***

When they reached the kitchen, Henry and Allison found Betty frosting what appeared to be a chocolate cake with several layers. She was murmuring to herself, “Oh my, what should I do next?”

Henry opened the grate. “You can start by slipping into the vent,” he said.

Betty whirled around. “Goodness me, Henry!” She gasped, and then lowered her voice. “You are all right?”

“Just fine, Betty,” Henry said with a smile, “and it’s time for you to leave.”

Allison poked her head out of the opening as well. “The moment you step foot back in there, Alice plans to ‘escort’ you to the laboratory. You won’t have a better opportunity to get away than now.”

Betty paused, glancing towards the kitchen door. “Can we really all get away unharmed?”

“We can,” Henry said. “We’ll just need to be careful and quiet.”

“Those bullets can make holes in the walls,” Betty said. “If she hears us…”

Allison thought about it, and her face lit up. “I have a plan to distract her, so Henry can switch off the signal tower. But to carry out the plan I have in mind,” she turned to Betty, “I will need your mask.”

“My mask?” Betty touched a hand to it.

“It is a mask, right?” Allison asked.

Betty nodded. “It is a mask, but must we do that?” She looked between them. “I am afraid that I must be hideous underneath. You might think less of me.”

Henry slipped out of the grate and took her hand. “Listen, Betty, no matter how your actual face looks, you’ll still be more beautiful than that vain and twisted Alice out there. Your heart is what matters."

“I appreciate your kindness, Henry,” Betty said. She took a deep breath as if to steady herself, reached up with her hand, and gently removed the mask. “Well, what do you think?” The face before him now was a bit thin, careworn, and nervous, but with depths of emotion in the eyes that made Henry’s heart race.

“Lovely,” Henry said.

Betty blushed.

“Argh!” They heard Alice Angel cry out from the dining room. “What is taking you so long? Get out here at once! Don’t make me send the Butcher Gang in after you.”

"It sounds like Alice might unintentionally help us by sending her guards in here shortly," Allison said, reaching out to accept the mask from Betty. She slipped it onto her own face. “All right, this airshaft goes around the dining room, and there are the two grates there, so I'm going to go that way. You two should go back the way we’ve come and wait for the Butcher Gang to leave their post and Alice Angel to get distracted before attempting to switch off the signal tower. Good luck.” Then, without waiting for their input, she headed off along the airshaft.

“She certainly is a go-getter,” Betty said. “A powerful leader, indeed.”

Henry nodded. “And she’s right. Go on, Betty, we have a signal tower to switch off.” He helped her through the crate, and she followed him on her hands and knees as they headed back into the room near the signal tower.

They had just reached the vent when Alice Angel lost her patience. “Hey, you goons,” she shouted at the Butcher Gang. “Go and get our Little Errand Girl who has lost her way, will you?” She was still holding the tommy gun. “It seems she is having some trouble with dessert.”

The Butcher Gang tottered away from the signal tower. They turned the corner, and Henry and Betty heard them entering the kitchen, and the kitchen door shutting behind them.

A moment later, there came loud shuffling noises through the walls in the dining room. Alice Angel stood up, wielding the Tommy Gun. “More vermin in the walls, I see,” she said, wickedness glinting in her eyes. “Or perhaps one big rat who is trying to get away from me.” She opened fire along one of the walls, peppering the wallpaper with bullets.

Alice Angel stopped, while Henry and Betty held their breaths, worried for Allison—until they heard more noises. The crazed angel peppered the walls with more bullets, and then her grinned menacingly as she said, “There you are!” and released a barrage of bullets, it sounded like, right on the grate in the room. She paused, frowning, and then said, “What the—?” as she approached the grate, lowering the tommy gun.

***

At the same time, down in the basement, Audrey, Inky, and Tom had effectively cleared the area of all the Butcher Gang forces.

“Too easy,” Inky rasped. He shot Tom a smug grimace. “I noticed you could barely keep up.”

Tom frowned. It looked like he might have started to argue in his own unique way, except Audrey stepped in between them.

“We don’t have time for this right now,” Audrey said. “We need to get back up into the manor and help everyone there.” Thankfully, the switch that controlled the steel door was still there and worked. She flipped it, and the door lifted.

“Fine,” Inky said. “On my back, Audrey. As for you,” he snorted at Tom, “let’s see if you are more adept at running. Not likely.”

Audrey climbed onto Inky’s back, and he took off at a run, while Tom ran alongside. Racing back to their friends.

***

“It looks like she is distracted,” Betty whispered.

Henry opened the grate carefully and made his way over to the signal tower. Now that he was further out and in the room, he could see that Alice Angel was indeed walking towards the grate, where there appeared to be Betty’s mask peering out. The twisted angel wrenched at the grate, opening it, and picked up the mask now riddled with bullet holes as Alice approached her from behind, having come out of the other grate.

Knowing he needed to take advantage of his own opportunity as quickly as possible, Henry inserted the Gent pipe into the socket on the side of the signal tower and flipped the switch. A great fizzing filled the air, and he felt power surged through him. It felt wonderful.

Alice Angel heard the noise and turn, dropping the mask and starting to lift the tommy gun when Allison grabbed her arm and twisted it backwards. Alice whirled about to look at her with indignance, but the sight of her Allison’s face caught her off-guard. Terror crossed her features, and she dropped the tommy gun.

She reached up, “My… my…” Alice Angel stammered, “My face.” Her voice was suddenly small and pitiful. “You have my face. I’m—I’m so… beautiful.”

“Of course, you are,” Allison said. “We are sisters. Both Alice Angels.”

“B-both…” Alice Angel was up against the wall, sliding down it. “Both…” Her eyes were wild, and she was gasping.

***

It was then that there came a crash from overhead, and Inky leapt down from the second floor of the building, with Audrey on his back and Tom not too far behind. The Butcher Gang guard that had been sent into the kitchen returned to the study, only to melt away thanks to Inky.

The sight of Allison, combined with the sudden arrival of Inky and the others, was too much. Alice Angel clutched her head and screamed, rocking back and forth. Audrey slipped off Inky’s back and solemnly approached.

Allison gave Inky a peculiar look, but then she turned to Audrey. “Be gentle with her,” she said.

“I’ll do my best,” Audrey said, kneeling beside Alice. She reached out and seized ahold of her head.

There came a flash of light as memories filled Alice Angel’s—no… Susie Campbell’s head.

Susie Campbell was the one who went quiet following the flash, lowering her hands from her head. Susie Campbell was the one who gazed around at all the strange individuals staring at her, especially Allison.

And Susie Campbell’s face was what crumpled as she began to cry, and Allison fell to her knees and embraced her.

The sobs filled the study.

The laments echoed throughout a manor emptied of known threats, so sad and small amid the otherwise overwhelming silence in the wake of past traumas.

Chapter Text

Betty insisted that all of them should spend the night in the manor. Truth to tell, she was able to convince everyone to do so without much prodding. From facing off against Sammy and his congregation, to shutting off the signal towers, to rescuing Betty from Alice Angel—the events of the day came crashing down like weights on their shoulders once any immediate threats to The Ink World had disappeared.

It was mind-boggling, Audrey thought many times, just how much could happen within a matter of hours.

Allison had led a sorrowful Susie Campbell to one of the guestrooms for some extra privacy to explain the situation, while Betty led Audrey to another guestroom. One that she recognized. It had been the same once given to her when Wilson had brought her to the manor.

“I thought you might feel the most comfortable in this room,” Betty said. There was a small smile on her face. “If you have any trouble falling asleep, this time I have prepared the proper concoction to ward off insomnia.”

“Thank you, Betty,” Audrey murmured, collapsing across the nice, soft bedspread. She sank into its softness and sighed in contentment—knowing that she would not need any special draughts to fall asleep.

Betty turned to Inky. “There is another guestroom across the way if you would like to—”

“No, this room is adequate,” Inky cut her off. He sauntered over to the bed on all fours, crouched down, and leapt onto the bed. The mattress springs were such that Audrey went bouncing upwards for a moment, but she was too exhausted to do or say anything. A moment later, Inky had let Bendy take over again, and the little imp curled up beside Audrey, who wrapped an arm around him.

The last thing Audrey heard as her eyes began to drift shut was Betty saying, “Sleep well, my precious guests.”

***

It was a while later when Bendy stirred. He couldn’t have said exactly what had awoken him, but he blinked around at the unfamiliar environment in dazed alarm. At least until he noticed Audrey beside him, and everything came rushing back. A blanket had been placed over them, and there was now a pillow under Audrey’s head, as well as his own.

Audrey was sleeping peacefully, apparently in the middle of happy dreams.

He felt good about that.

But he was also curious. They had never gone to a manor before, and the types of items he had glimpsed here and there reminded Bendy of the art museum back home. Except people could live here. Even if it had once belonged to that scary monster Wilson, now it belonged to Betty, and she was nice—which made things much better, in his opinion.

Bendy slipped out from between Audrey’s arms and stuck in the pillow to take his place. Audrey shifted a bit and squeezed the pillow. A smile tweaked her lips.

It was dark in the room, but as with the storage room, Bendy could sense where stuff was even without any lights. He hadn’t realized there was anything strange about that ability until Audrey had pointed it out to him. Of course, Bendy considered as he went to the door and went onto the tips of his shoes to reach the knob, it had struck him as strange when he couldn’t find his way around dark places easily in the Real World.

He slipped into the side passage and gently closed the door, although he did listen for a few seconds just to make sure that Audrey was still sleeping. Then he grinned broadly and snuck off. His shoes made hardly a sound on the carpet, and he gazed around at all the lavish decorations on display in the main hallway, which seemed to stretch for an interminable length to the right at first until he remembered that the North Wing and the basement were in that direction.

Bendy didn’t want to go there.

So, instead, he ventured in the other direction. Near the end, down another side passage, he heard choking, heart-wrenching sobs coming from behind one of the doors. It was Alice Angel… Oh, no, wait… Audrey had called her Susie Campbell, and Allison had simply called her Susie as she helped her out of the dining room.

Allison was in the same room where Susie was sobbing, trying to console her, behind the closed door.

“I’ve been a terrible person,” Susie managed to gasp out between bursts of tears. “Now it’s like I just told you, I’m doomed to be hideous and stuck in—stuck in—” The rest of what she had to say got overwhelmed by another bout of gasping despair. “My soul is going to rot here forever! I’m condemned!”

Allison quietly shushed her. “You are not condemned,” she soothed her, although Bendy couldn’t help wondering if Wandering would have considered themselves condemned or not. Then again, Bendy scratched his head, what did it mean to be “condemned?”

Meanwhile, Allison persisted in a carefully calm, level tone, “You are in The Studio. A world within The Ink Machine.”

“How do I get out?” Susie begged. “Let me out! I want to go home!”

The desperation became too much for Bendy to stand. It reminded him too much of his observations of the Lost Ones before Audrey had come to the studio, and after he had escaped from Wilson.

Those days still terrified him. His first memories had involved pain. Of being in a cage while Keepers pressed burning objects into his sides and Wilson stood there, rubbing his hands together with a wicked grin. But it had also been sort of blurry. Like a nightmare that wouldn’t take full shape.

He had been locked up for a while, all alone, but then he had seen an opening to escape and had taken it. Wilson had screamed at his Keepers to catch him, and Bendy had found a crack in a wall and squeezed himself through it into the darkness…

Bendy found that he was shuddering.

Despite all the trauma he had been through, it hadn’t compared to all the bad things he had glimpsed in Inky’s mind during their moment of connection. He couldn’t remember those types of bad things for too long. They had slipped away from him. They still made him sad, but life had gotten much better with Audrey.

Audrey would always be there for him and Inky, like they would always be there for her.

Still shuddering a little, though, Bendy backed away from the guestroom with Susie and Allison and continued down the main hall, where he found of the doors ajar. The room had a few bookshelves inside, along with a fish tank and a piano.

There was a single fish swimming around in the tank. Bendy whistled and waved in greeting, but the fish couldn’t have cared less. It swam about in the murky water and went, “Blurp!” So, he shrugged and went to check out the piano. He crawled onto the bench and gazed at the wide stretch of keys. It was like the piano was smiling at him.

Bendy looked around as if he might get scolded for tampering with something so nice, and then tapped one of the keys. It produced a clear, resonant sound. He grinned and tried a few more keys. Each one had a slightly different melody, varied by pitch, and by listening carefully he managed to tap out a simple tune.

Maybe he could play a song for Audrey and everyone else. Maybe it would even make Susie smile.

He was about to only his experiments when there came the gentle opening and closing of a door. Bendy slid off the piano bench and went to the door. He peered out into the hallway in time to see Allison leave the side passage to the room where Susie had been crying. She looked tired. Very tired. With a sigh, she headed down the hall in the other direction, but purposefully. She must have been going somewhere specific.

Curious, Bendy followed her from a distance, hiding behind vases and other pieces of furniture along the way. Even if Allison did appear so distracted that he could have likely gotten much closer and remained undetected. He had always been a good judge of that.

Allison entered a room along the main hallway, leaving the door mostly open. A plaque nearby indicated it was a library.

A library? Now there was something Bendy approved of. Perhaps he could find a Fluffy the Bunny book on the shelves and share it with Allison, so she wouldn’t look at him like something scary. Like a monster. Perhaps even Tom would enjoy the same book. Then they could all be friends.

Drawing closer to the library door, Bendy peered around the frame. It wasn’t just Allison in the room, but also Tom, Henry, and Betty. They were standing around a table on which there were several books opened. A little like they had been with all the documents on the first floor. And they were having a conversation.

“Susie finally fell asleep,” Allison said, brushing back her hair and sounding worn. “It took me a while to explain where she was, and for her to calm down after learning that she cannot leave The Ink Machine.”

Henry had a solemn expression as he asked, “Did you mention Sammy?”

“Yes, I think knowing that he was here in The Studio soothed her a bit. I promised to bring him to her tomorrow, since she doesn’t want to leave her room. Also,” here she glanced at Betty, “she is wearing your mask to hide her face.”

Tom grunted, and then came over to put an arm around her shoulders and led her to a chair.

“So, what are you doing now?” Allison asked.

“Betty has been showing me some of the books that Wilson used to bring to his room and laboratory frequently,” Henry said. “Including a very odd theory book that we’ve been trying to untangle.”

Allison, however, had something else on her mind. “Henry, could you tell me about those recordings you mentioned earlier on?” she asked. “About The Ink Demon’s past?”

Henry hesitated, the theory book on the table before him momentarily forgotten. “Are you sure you want to hear about that right now? It’s been a long day and—”

“Henry,” Allison said, “it’s been a long day for all of us. And right now, The Ink Demon is here in the manor with us, he is acting differently than the terror we saw during the last Cycle, and you said there were recordings that might help to explain exactly what or who we’re dealing with.”

“All right,” Henry said, and then he unraveled a tale that Bendy had never heard before, although it sounded a bit like his own beginnings—except much, much worse. It was a story of Joey Drew of Joey Drew Studios commissioning Gent to create a live cartoon character, a version of Bendy the Dancing Demon, only to be dissatisfied with the results. The creation was known for simply walking around and watching people creepily. Joey Drew had termed the “soulless, smiling” thing a mistake and blamed Gent for it, right before telling one of the Gent workers, Thomas Connor, to lock “it” up. Experiments had apparently followed, trying to get him back on-model.

But their contorted creation had escaped. The Ink Demon had gotten loose.

Wilson had captured him again and experimented on him as well, resulting in Bendy and effectively sealing The Ink Demon until he got released again.

Bendy clutched the doorframe, shuddering and feeling something tickle at the back of his mind. He felt the undeniable surge of ink rising within him, felt himself growing, and felt his own consciousness get pushed back as, echoing in his mind, he heard Inky address the group by saying, “Well, well. It is rude of you hold such an intimate conversation behind my back. Don’t you wish to hear my side of the story?”

***

Audrey was having a dream. She laid stretched out on the bedspread, covered in a blanket, but Bendy had disappeared. However, there was another presence in the room. Someone came and sat on the edge of the bed.

“My sweet Audrey,” the person said, and in the way of dreams, the scene shifted to that of her as a little girl tucked into bed. The room she had was simple and small, although she had never thought about it that way. And her father was standing at her bedside, stroking back her hair, and saying, “Oh my precious little girl. You are the biggest star in my life, and my greatest achievement.”

His lips had creased into a smile.

“Dad,” Audrey murmured as she stirred in atop the bed in the guestroom. The presence of someone sitting on the edge of the bed had been a part of the dream, probably. What hadn’t just been in the dream, though, was that Bendy must have slipped away somewhere. She got up and groped through the darkness to the door, and soon she was out in the hallway.

There were voices coming from the library, and one of them was clearly Inky’s voice, raised in irritation.

“You do not understand even a portion of what I have been through,” Inky snarled.

Allison replied, “Did you ever harm anyone after you were first created? Answer me that.”

Were they fighting? Audrey wondered. It sounded as if they were having some sort of fierce debate about Inky, and if he happened to get too worked up it would be terrible. Worried, she approached at a rush.

Then Inky grumbled, “No, not when Joey Drew first had me created from The Ink Machine.” He spat the name of her father as if he wanted to grind it up in his jaws. “My first memories are of wandering the hallways at Joey Drew Studios. I was curious. I wanted to learn, and they,” he growled, “taught me the kind of realm in which I existed.”

“They locked you up,” Allison said.

Audrey froze just outside the room, her back pressed against the wall of the hallway.

“Joey Drew called me a mistake, so did others. Many of the workmen. They sealed me in a room with sharp, metal tools to scrape at me, and jab into my sides, and poke into my face,” Inky growled. “I believed them. To them, I was a mistake. They despised me, and I came to despise them. I was always in pain until someone opened the door of my torture chamber, and I escaped.”

Audrey pressed a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle a gasp.

“Then Joey tricked me into The Ink Machine, into this Studio, as a new prison for me, and so I could torture another being who he hated,” Inky hissed.

“That was me,” Henry interjected at this point. “He wanted to punish a version of his former business partner, the one who created the idea for Bendy in the first place, didn’t he?”

“Henry Stein created Bendy?” Allison sounded astonished.

“I uncovered a recording of what I thought, at first, was myself,” Henry said. “Even though I didn’t remember saying what was on it. Henry Stein, the actual Henry Stein, mentioned coming up with a new character idea—Bendy The Dancing Demon. And I’d bet he came up with Alice Angel and Boris the Wolf as well.”

“Joey Drew claimed Bendy was his creation. He said it many times while pointing out to others that I was wrong. That I was nothing like his Bendy. That I was a soulless monster,” Inky grumbled.

It felt like the world was crumbling around her. Audrey had known that her father wasn’t perfect. She knew he had created The Ink World to spitefully carry out revenge against an inky version of his former business partner, but she hadn’t realized exactly what he had done to Inky long before that.

“He trapped me in this Cycle. Nothing I did mattered. Everything reset itself, again and again. No one mattered, except the souls that filled the Dark Puddles and echoed more and more in my head. It was maddening.” Inky wasn’t wheezing or gurgling this time at the thought of it. He was just furious.

“Joey trapped us in the Cycle,” Henry said. “All of us.”

Audrey needed a moment to process everything. She headed off down the hallway, although she did hear Inky give a strangled moan that sounded like a heavy sigh and say, “And Audrey was listening to us… Just great.”

Even knowing they knew she had overhead at least some of their conversation, however, Audrey pressed onwards. She wasn’t sure what to say. Her friends had endured so much over the years because of Joey Drew. Even though in her vague childhood memories, he had been someone much different.

Her father. The one who had loved and taken care of her, while in The Ink Machine, his other “creations” were caught in an never-ending loop and suffering.

Why? Had all that kindness been a lie? Had her father ever truly cared? If so, how could he have also done such horrible things?

Including his involvement with Gent.

Of course, that was another part of it. Joey Drew had worked with Gent to create The Ink Machine, but Audrey knew that people had lost their lives and souls through Gent experiments. Wandering had made her aware of that, as had the information she had come across during her first trip through The Ink World.

How much had her father known about those experiments? How much had he actively participated in destroying all those lives from the Real World, in addition to the lives he had created and tormented in The Ink World?

She reached the foyer, at the top of the steps, near the unrealistic painting of Wilson confronting Inky. Audrey leaned her elbows on the railing, gazed down at the fountain on the floor below, and sighed.

Less than a minute afterwards, Inky approached at what was probably a careful saunter. He paused beside her, and without looking at him, Audrey murmured, “That’s why the Seeing Tool doesn’t show any golden symbols or special markings on you. Because you were born out in the Real World before getting trapped in The Ink World.” Then, after a pause, she asked, “Why didn’t you ever tell me that my father locked you up?”

“It would not have changed anything,” Inky rasped. “Joey Drew was gone. He had done his damage, but he was gone. Wilson became a bigger threat than him, and the pain he caused was more recent. Joey Drew was just one among many tormentors, for me and those in the Dark Puddles.”

“I… think I hate my father,” Audrey said. The words tumbled out of her lips uncertainly and guiltily. “I mean, how could I love someone who has done so many terrible things to the people I care about?”

“Hate does not suit you, Audrey.” Inky laid his chin on the railing beside her. “It is ironic that I am the one to tell you that.” He sniggered. “Everything changed when you came to my realm…” He paused, seeming to consider his words, before adding, “…to our realm.”

“He’s right,” this came from Henry, followed by Allison, Tom, and Betty. “We cannot change what happened in the past, but you have made us believe in a better future.” The animator smiled. “You made us believe.”

Allison nodded, coming to lay a hand on Audrey’s shoulder. “The Ink Dem— Inky is also right that you shouldn’t get consumed by hatred. We’ve seen the way that hate can twist souls.” At this point, she gazed off down the hall, clearly thinking of Susie. “I do not remember all the Cycles, but I am confident this one has been the best one by far.”

“It has been,” Henry said. “Wouldn’t you agree, Inky?”

“Yes,” Inky rasped.

Audrey gripped the railing, gazing at them. Even Tom nodded at her with a curt grunt to show his approval, and Betty gave her a calm little smile.

“I want this Cycle to be the one that lasts,” Audrey said. “I never want it to get reset again.”

Everyone exchanged looks.

“Then we will only move forwards, and never be forced to literally relive the past again,” Audrey continued.

“You want the Cycle to have been broken for the final time,” Henry mused aloud, and everyone seemed to consider that.

“We will no longer be pawns,” Inky muttered.

Audrey frowned. “Is that… Well, then you approve, right?”

Laughter in various forms broke out among her friends, from Henry giving full-bodied chortles, to Betty giggling, to chuckles from Allison, to gruff yips from Tom, and finally to throaty guffaws from Inky. Everyone came forward in a group hug, although Inky did grumble that he was getting squeezed too hard. He didn’t comment, though, when Audrey continued to hug him after everything else had pulled away.

Betty turned to regard the portrait nearby. “Well, if we can choose what to do from now on, and it’ll last, I think the first thing I want to do is remove this portrait,” she said. “I always found it somewhat gaudy.”

“Allow me,” Inky rasped. He yanked the portrait off the wall and chucked it over the railing and right into the fountain. It smacked into the stonework and snapped in half before its pieces sank into the dark water.

Their companions clapped and cheered.

Betty turned to Henry, “Would you perhaps create an appropriate painting to take its place?” Her eyes seemed to twinkle with hope.

“Of course, and I think I already have an idea for a replacement,” Henry said, gazing around at all of them gathered together. He smiled. “It’ll take a while, but masterpieces take time.”

“That was sappy, Henry,” Inky grumbled.

“Oh, come on, Inky,” Audrey nudged him, “this is the start of better things.”

“‘The start of better things’ already happened.” Inky shrugged. “Don’t expect me to gush about every little thing that happens like you do.”

“It’s okay, Audrey,” Allison interjected, with a tiny quirk of a smile. “He is just a little embarrassed."

Inky rose to his full height and loomed over her, “One conversation, and you dare to call me ‘embarrassed?’”

Allison, to her credit, refused to flinch. She even raised an eyebrow. But then Tom stepped in the way, and he and Inky locked glances in an obvious contest of who would back off first. It went on for a few minutes before Betty seemed to have enough. She walked right between them as she said, ”How about I prepare some tea for us?”

“Sounds good to me,” Henry said, accompanying her down the hall.

Audrey gazed between Inky and Tom. She seemed on the point of saying something when Allison tugged at her arm. “Come on,” Allison said. “Let’s leave them to make faces at each other if that’s what they want to do. We should go and help Betty with the tea.”

“Right,” Audrey agreed, trailing after her.

Exactly who won the contest was something Audrey would never learn, but when Inky and Tom joined everyone in the dining room off the main hallway a while later, they seemed to at least be tolerating each other.

So, the most intense day that had occurred in The Ink World for a while came to an end while enjoying tea in Betty’s Manor. It was a quiet moment, but it was all the more memorable and remarkable for the fact that they did so together—filled with a greater understanding and respect for each other.

It was indeed a Cycle to end all Cycles.

Audrey wanted so much for that to be true.

Chapter Text

Audrey had heard the fairy tale when she was a child. She used to beg her father to read it to her out of the thick volume of stories they owned, and he would pull a metal folding chair up to her bedside as she hugged a toy rabbit close. He might jokingly mention that she had heard the story a hundred times already, but he would always read it again soon afterwards without any further complaints.

It was her favorite. The story was about a little girl just like her who got kidnapped by goblins one night and spirited away to the Kingdom of Nightmares. The little girl had heard horrifying stories about it. Terrible creatures were said to lurk there, born from the nastiest thoughts and ideas that people had, and the goblins constantly squabbled among themselves as they carried her into the darkest corners of the very world of Imagination itself. The goblins brought the little girl to the king of this terrible realm, who said her kindness shone the brightest of any child he had ever seen, and it was his intention to snuff out her light forever.

But the little girl was kind all the way to her core. Even though she had been stolen from her home, and encountered one fright after another, she remained strong—and she even began to grow sympathetic for the creatures who lived in this dark kingdom far from the sun. She saw that at their very hearts, they were simply miserable and lost, and the little girl worked to share her light with them.

Over time, one nightmarish creature after another changed due to her kindness, and that kindness was contagious. It spread throughout the kingdom and eventually reached the king himself, who was the saddest and most miserable soul in the realm. The nightmares dispersed, and the little girl returned home as a celebrated savior, leaving a radiant and happy kingdom behind her.

Audrey had loved that story. She had often imagined herself in the place of the little girl.

Then, one day, Audrey had looked through the same book and searched for her beloved story. But all she found were fairy tales about princesses getting rescued from tall towers by princes and similar plots. Nowhere could she find the fairy tale that her father had told her so often.

It was only then that she realized her father had made up the story and told it to her in the same way, every single time—like a looped record.

***

Audrey awoke in a place that might have just come out of a fairy tale, curled within the covers of a queen-sized bed. She wore a nightgown Betty had provided to her after everyone had enjoyed tea the previous evening, and the new mistress of the manor had also stressed that Audrey, Bendy, and Inky should consider the room in which they spent the night to be theirs. They were free to personalize it however they chose, and they were welcome to stay there whenever they visited The Studio.

It was something to keep in mind for when they were fully rested and could focus on interior decorating wholeheartedly.

Bendy had gotten up earlier, as was evident by the folded pajamas with inkwell designs on them at the foot of the bed. As Audrey stretched the stiffness out of her limbs and gazed down at the nightgown Betty had given to her, the dream about the fairy tale came to mind again. She was sure it was because of the conversation about her father the other evening, and which had swirled in her thoughts even while drifting off to sleep again with Bendy curled up beside her.

Audrey sighed. Regardless of how she tried to approach the whole issue of Joey Drew, she still couldn’t reconcile the two versions of him and make herself believe they were the same person. She tried to shake off such thoughts, however, as she got dressed and left her room—which was when she heard someone playing the piano. She followed the soft sounds and soon came to the threshold of the room with the grand piano, where Bendy sat beside Betty on the piano bench.

A sheet of music sat in a holder above the keys, and Betty was teaching Bendy how to read the notes. From the sounds of it, the little guy was picking things up quickly. “Goodness me, you are a natural pianist, Bendy," Betty exclaimed, chuckling daintily. “I bet you could play this whole piece by yourself already. Why don’t you give it a try?”

Bendy took a deep breath, exhaled, stared at the sheet of music, and began to play. The melody he played was slow and hesitant, with a few missed notes that he paused long enough to correct, but certainly incredible. Audrey even recognized the tune as “The Birthday Song.”

Hmm, Audrey mused. Birthdays. Those were other celebrations remembered from distant childhood memories, although she shrugged off those associations for now as she watched Bendy enjoying himself. A smile tweaked her lips at another possible surprise to spring upon him and Inky once they returned home, and she applauded as Bendy finished playing the song.

Bendy twisted to look at her, grinning. He whipped out his notebook, opened to a pre-prepared message of, “Good morning, Audrey!”

“Good morning. That was wonderful,” Audrey said. “How long have you two been practicing?”

“Oh, not too long,” Betty replied. “Truth to tell, I was feeling a bit awkward because Henry and Tom insisted on making breakfast. They are both such gentlemen.” Her smile was calm and peaceful. “Bendy asked if I might teach him to play the piano, and so I helped him with a few of the basics. He is a perfect student.”

Audrey smiled. “He’s very clever,” she said, then asked, “How about Allison?”

“Ah, Allison took the train to Lost City. She wanted to find and bring Sammy here before Susie woke up.” Betty sighed, and a shadow of sadness crossed her face. “The poor dear is so traumatized by everything she has been through.” She clasped her hands together. “But we all know how far more dreadful it is be so isolated and alone.”

Audrey and Bendy both nodded their heads at this one.

“Well, breakfast should be just about done, I’d say,” Betty said, leading the way out the door. “We’re going to have pancakes and waffles. Quite a combination.”

There came an eruption of ink beside her.

“Good morning, Inky,” Audrey said.

“Good morning, pancakes and waffles!” Inky proclaimed. His outright glee was plain to hear and see, which astonished Audrey until she realized it would be his first opportunity to directly eat breakfast rather than experience the meal through his connection with Bendy. Then he seemed to catch himself and rasped, “Good morning, Audrey,” before ambling beside her after Betty. Even so, he kept grumbling impatiently. It was clear what he really wanted to do was race down the hallway to reach the dining room as soon as possible.

Indeed, when she opened the dining room door, and the warm fragrances from the stacks of pancakes and waffles wafted out, Betty barely managed to get out of the way as Inky charged into the room and reached out for the stacks as if ready to gobble them down right then and there. Tom growled at him in warning, and Inky growled back until Audrey reached up and gently tugged on one of his horns.

“Come on, Inky, those pancakes and waffles are for everyone,” Audrey said.

“But I am ravenous,” Inky grumbled. “It is their fault for tempting me with something so good.”

Henry placed several pancakes and waffles on a plate. “We’ll take that as a compliment on our cooking,” he said, holding it out to Inky like a peace offering. “Make sure just to eat the food, not the plate, all right?”

It was probably meant as a joke, but Inky simply huffed and responded haughtily, “I cannot guarantee the plate’s safety,” before sitting down near the table and dumping its contents into his mouth. Meanwhile, Henry and Tom passed out other plates filled with other pancakes, which Audrey and the others declared as perfectly fluffy and delicious.

They soon ran out of pancakes and waffles, at which Inky grumbled and sauntered to the door that led into the kitchen from the dining room.

“What are you doing?” Henry asked.

“I am going to make more pancakes and waffles. What does it look like?” Inky retorted.

Henry looked at Audrey. “Does he know how to make them?”

“Bendy has helped me with pancakes and waffles many times. Inky should be fine,” Audrey assured him, although as Inky disappeared into the kitchen, she did ask, “Would you like some help?”

“I will do it. Sit down,” Inky rasped as the door slammed shut behind him.

“I never thought I would see the day when The Ink Demon would help make breakfast,” Betty remarked. “Inky is just as much of a dear as Bendy.”

Tom grunted as if he begged to differ.

Everyone grew unaccountably quiet as they listened to Inky move about in the kitchen, and Betty appeared somewhat anxious when they heard dishware clinking together and getting shuffled around. Then they heard grumbles as objects dropped onto the floor, accompanied by complaints like, “Stupid whisk,” and “Stupid spatula,” until he snarled, “Stupid pan!”

When there came the clear sounds of the pan clattering against the wall, though, and batter splatting, Audrey leapt to her feet. Henry and Tom shoved back their chairs and seemed to have the same thing in mind.

However, Betty gracefully reached her feet and encouraged all of them to sit back down. “Please, I can handle this one,” she said.

“Inky is getting worked up,” Audrey insisted. “I should come and help him to calm—”

“You are my guests, and I am your host,” Betty replied. “Don’t worry, Audrey. I know he is simply a little frustrated. I will be right back.” With that, she swept away into the kitchen.

Now everyone simply listened again.

“Goodness me, you have made a terrible mess in my kitchen,” Betty chided. “You didn’t need to throw the pan. It was perfectly harmless.”

Inky growled, “It is because your cooking utensils do not work properly.”

There was a tension-filled silence until Betty said, “Oh my, I see what is going on. Poor dear, it is not that the utensils are faulty, but that you are having trouble holding them. Here, wrap you claws around them like this—that’s right. Just like that.”

It was as if they were listening to a peculiar cooking show on the radio. Audrey, Henry, and Tom played the part of a rapt audience, their ears straining to hear the slightest developments from the kitchen as Betty carefully guided Inky along.

Audrey murmured to Henry and Tom, “Inky wouldn’t harm her, but somehow it is still incredible Betty can be this calm about interacting with him when he is so upset.”

“Well, she had to put up with Wilson and his Keepers,” Henry muttered. “It takes someone with nerves of steel to do that.”

Tom grunted in agreement.

When Inky and Betty at last emerged from the kitchen, they held two plates stacked with pancakes and waffles for everyone to enjoy. Some of them were larger than others, slightly burnt, or in odd shapes, but they still tasted delicious. Audrey congratulated them both on their good work.

“Oh, Inky did most of it himself,” Betty said.

Inky considered her words, and then he grumbled, “I had some help.”

It was around this point when they became aware of voices in the hallway. Allison had come back with Sammy. Betty, Audrey, Henry, and Tom slipped out of the dining room to greet them. A moment later, Bendy came out as well to grab ahold of Audrey’s hand, and she squeezed it in welcome as Allison approached them.

Sammy was wearing an ink-stained, buttoned-down shirt and walked along with his hands stuck in his overall pockets, his yellow eyes narrowed in contemplation. There was also a banjo strung on a strap from one shoulder. “So, you are the people who stopped me in my mania,” he said. His voice was calm and melodious, which was a surreal shift from the righteous, fanatical voice from before. “I suppose some thanks are in order. Even if I am still waiting to wake up from this fever dream.”

“The Studio can be kind of unreal that way,” Henry said. “Like the fact that it’s always night out in Lost City and Ink Harmony Park.”

This mention tugged at the back of Audrey’s mind. She could remember asking Betty about the same thing, back when Wilson had brought her to the manor. What Henry had said only confirmed her suspicions that The Ink World had never known a sunny day.

Hmm. She wondered…

Meanwhile, Sammy stared at Henry with his eyes wide in shock. He said, “Henry Stein? The workaholic animator? You’re trapped in this place as well?”

Henry exchanged a look with the others as he came forward and offered a hand to shake. “I’m likely not the Henry Stein you knew outside The Ink Machine. My name is Henry Stein, but I was born here.”

Sammy rubbed his head. “Oh, I thought you might have disappeared in one of those ‘experiments.’ The last I heard of any Henry Stein was when he had reportedly handed in his resignation notice. It was only a short while after I’d joined Joey Drew Studios, but I remember Joey was furious.”

“Yeah, well, even I know Joey had a short fuse,” Henry muttered, although then he glanced at Audrey as though making sure she was all right.

Audrey tried to offer him a small smile to assure him everything was just fine. She was fine. They were just discussing another way Joey Drew the head of Joey Drew Studios had been different than Joey Drew her father. It was just the truth, and she had to face it the same way she had faced so many other truths since her first journey into The Ink Machine.

Sammy followed Henry’s glance to her. “You must be Audrey,” he said, giving her a polite bow. “Allison told me about you on the train ride over. You are the one who restored my memories, and…” His gaze dropped to Bendy, and he retreated a step. “Bendy is real? I almost thought he was a part of my mania.”

Allison sighed and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Bendy is real.”

“But he turned into a monster. A horrifying demon. Surely that terror was not real,” Sammy said, fear creasing his tone.

Audrey shook her head. “He isn’t a monster, but there is another demon named Inky. You can think of him as a big brother to Bendy. He helped to stop you and the Lost Ones who followed you into Lost City.” As Sammy continued to stare at her in disbelief, Bendy stepped forward to offer his hand to shake.

The former music director looked like he wasn’t sure whether to take Bendy’s hand or faint, but he seemed to feel the weight of everyone watching him. All those people who were around the cartoon imp and appeared just fine with his presence. So, Sammy shakingly reached out and shook hands with Bendy—even if he did retract his hand as soon as possible.

“Let’s go,” Allison said to Sammy. “Susie is just up the way.”

They walked together up the hall until they reached the appropriate side passage. Allison knocked on the guestroom door. “Susie, are you awake?” she asked. “It’s Allison.”

“Just leave me alone,” Susie sobbed from inside. Her voice was muffled, as if she were shouting while her face was buried in a pillow. “I don’t want to see anybody. I don’t want to go anywhere. I just want this nightmare to be over.”

“But Sammy is here,” Allison said soothingly. “I brought him, just as I said I would.”

“Sammy?” Susie murmured sorrowfully.

Sammy approached the door, hesitated, and said, “It’s me, Sweet Susie. It’s your Sammy.”

“Oh, Sammy. It’s horrible! I’m hideous—terribly hideous. You wouldn’t want to see someone like me. You should just go away!”

For a while, Sammy stood staring at the door. Then he pulled around his banjo to the front. He tuned the instrument with the practiced care of a professional, and then he began to strum the strings. Audrey had never heard the melody before, but it clearly came out of another era altogether.

Then Sammy began to sing, in a low and sonorous voice, “I can’t begin to tell you how much you mean to me/My world would end if ever we were through/I can’t begin to tell you how happy I would be/if I could speak my mind like others do.”

The song filled the air in a gentle sonorous way. Audrey stroked Bendy between the horns, while Tom put an arm around Allison, and Henry and Betty stood close together.

Unexpectedly, another singer joined Sammy. It was Susie Campbell, singing wistfully alongside Sammy as if she were just on the other side of the door—until at last they finished singing, and the door opened a crack. Susie stood there with the mask on her face.

“Hey there, Sammy,” Susie said in a tremulous voice.

“Hey there, Sweet Susie,” Sammy replied. “May I come in?”

“A man coming alone into my private chambers?” Susie gazed at him for a long time. Then she reached out a hand, and he took it. “Sure, I think that’d be all right. It’s not like we need to worry about being too scandalous anymore. No paparazzi or anything.”

“You were never too worried about that in the first place,” Sammy said, slipping into the room.

The door closed.

Everyone else exchanged looks. “Well, I guess we should give them some time alone,” Henry said. He turned to Audrey. “How would you like to head over to Lost City and Ink Harmony Park for a tour?”

Audrey was on the point of saying yes when she happened to glimpse the clock hanging on the wall, and valuable memories kicked in from outside The Ink Machine and back in the Real World. For one thing, they had entered The Ink Machine on Audrey’s day off from work. However, they had spent the night here, and according to the clock, she was due back to begin her workday at Archgate Films within the hour. That is, if the clocks in The Ink World kept time in the same way as they did outside The Ink Machine. She hoped so.

“Are you okay, Audrey?” Allison asked.

“We need to get back to the Real World!” Audrey said, turning to everyone. “I have work today, and if I don’t show up… people will miss me. They might worry something terrible has happened.”

“Oh, goodness me,” Betty replied. “We can’t have that. Well, if it’s speed you need to get somewhere specific, you can always use the ink fountain here in the manor.”

Audrey squeezed Bendy’s hand. “Come on, we need to get home.”

They took off running down the hallway, where there was indeed an ink fountain in plain sight against one wall in the foyer. Not the kind that Inky had tossed the horrible painting into, but the kind she could use to travel elsewhere.

Henry soon joined them. “I’ll see you off,” he said.

“Thanks, Henry,” Audrey said, waving over her shoulder to the rest of their friends. “Sorry that we need to run off, everyone! We’ll see you again soon!”

Their other friends waved at them, shouting their best wishes and hopes she would indeed come back soon—especially once the theater had its grand opening. And then they were flowing through the inky tubes all the way back to the first floor, where they popped out near where Norman was studying the flower picture that Bendy had given him earlier the previous day.

“Hi, Norman!” Audrey said. “Take care, Norman!”

Then they were racing down the hallway back towards the room where the duplicate Ink Machine hung by chains above a vat of ink. She paused, looking around. “Wandering, could you please help us get back?”

The wall creaked. Henry lifted the Seeing Tool to read the message in golden ink. “Wandering says that you should just step up to the railing, and they can do the rest.” Henry turned to smile at her. “Well, thank you, Audrey, for everything. I hope we’ll see you come for a visit soon when there isn’t a major disaster in progress.” He held out a hand, but Audrey and Bendy came forward in a hug.

“Of course, we will,” Audrey said. She stepped towards the railing when a thought occurred to her. “Say, Henry, it really is only nighttime in Lost City and Ink Harmony Park, isn’t it? I mean, in the only places where the sky is visible?”

“True,” Henry said. He looked confused, especially when Audrey pulled out the sketch book. She had slipped it into her waistband, even though she hadn’t needed to use it against anyone—thankfully. But there was one quick thing she could do, but it would make a huge difference. “Can I borrow a pen, please?”

Henry reached into his pocket and handed her a pen. “What is this all about, Audrey? You were in a big hurry just a moment ago.”

Audrey, meanwhile, had flipped to the page in the sketch book and added a new feature to The Ink World. Once she had finished it, she smiled at Henry and said, “Just head over to Lost City or Ink Harmony Park afterwards, all right? Think of it as a present to celebrate a new beginning.”

With that said, Audrey and Bendy stepped up to the railing, the nozzle of the duplicate Ink Machine lifted, and ink came out in a spurt that wrapped about and drew them into its depths. Away from The Ink World, and back towards the Real World.

***

Intrigued by what Audrey had said, Henry followed her advice and took an ink fountain to Ink Harmony Park, where a strange phenomenon was occurring. Buddy, Big Steve, Porter, Heidi, and all the other Lost Ones in residence there were staring at the bright glowing ball now rising into the skies and pushing back the darkness.

It was the sun.

Audrey had brought the light of day to The Studio.

***

Audrey and Bendy came flowing out of The Ink Machine in the exhibition room at Archgate Films, right where they had left for their big adventure. “Whew, we had quite an adventure, didn’t we, Bendy?” Audrey said.

Bendy was back in his usual disguise, although the hood had fallen back to expose his head. He whistled at her happily, and Audrey stroked him between the horns.

Then they heard the gasps.

Audrey straightened up, and Bendy instinctively ducked behind Audrey’s legs, but it was too late.

Standing right there in the exhibition room, their eyes wide in shock, were Marge and Andrew.

Chapter Text

They stood staring at each other in the exhibition room. Audrey stood at the entrance to the short passage leading onto The Ink Machine, and Bendy peered out from behind her legs without the hood of his usual disguise while in The Real World. Meanwhile, Marge and Andrew stood gasping at them from in front of the metal shelves that held books and similar resources.

It was more than likely her co-workers had noticed them come spurting out of The Ink Machine. Marge and Andrew bore ink stains on their clothes and faces, nearly into their eyes, although that mess seemed to be the least of their concerns. Even if they had somehow missed the departure from another world, however, they had clearly spotted the cartoon character who had starred in so many animated features from Joey Drew Studios and now Archgate Films. The tension was thick between them. Marge and Andrew looked like they had just stepped off the fastest rollercoaster ever and were still reeling from its aftereffects. If Audrey had to guess, she would have said they had retreated straight backwards after getting squirted with the ink and had managed to stop just short of crashing against the metal shelves.

Marge, her gingery hair frizzlier than usual and pencils tumbling out of it and onto the floor, was the one to break the silence. “Andrew and I came into the office early to go over some story ideas together for the next Bendy (nervous chuckle) cartoon, and Mrs. Fern told us about you coming in with Benny (another nervous chuckle) the other day.” She swallowed hard. “She mentioned there was someone stalking you, that you had ducked into the studio, and that she hadn’t seen you leave afterwards (yet another nervous chuckle).”

Her words echoed on the thin air. The smile she wore was strange and tight from barely controlled panic, and as everyone continued to stare, Marge went on, “We called your home phone, but no one picked up, so instead we went looking around here just in case you had been too scared to leave the studio with a stalker following you around. Even though I guess you could have called the police.” Another pencil fell out of her gingery bun. “We checked your office, the longue, the other offices, and then took the elevator down here because—” Another swallow. The surrealism of the moment was intolerable. “Because Andrew thought you might find this Joey Drew exhibit comforting, because he kind of mentioned…. well… that you and Joey Drew are related.”

Then her gaze dropped a bit to take in the imp in the room. “That looks a lot like Bendy (anxious eye twitch). You know, Bendy The Dancing Demon. The cartoon character.”

“Yes,” Audrey said, “this is Bendy.” Her reply sounded so strange. It was as if they were all easing their way over a patch of thin ice. At any moment, something was going to give. It had to. The horrible question was how it was going to give.

Audrey noticed, with a bit of dread, as the ink splatters on her co-workers’ faces disappeared. The Ink simply shimmered a golden hue and vanished, as if it had dissolved—or perhaps gotten absorbed into their skin.

Bendy stepped cautiously out from behind Audrey’s legs and tried to greet Marge and Andrew exactly as he had done to Sammy, the last person to be terrified at his presence. He extended a gloved hand and offered them a winning smile. But rather than cautiously stepping forward to return the gesture, Marge drew back a bit further, and it was then that Andrew unfroze and stepped in front of Marge.

“Stay back! Don’t come any closer. I’m warning you,” Andrew told Bendy, pushing Marge with one arm to encourage her towards the exit. With his other hand, though, he appeared to be reaching for something in some inner pocket of his work jacket. The last time Audrey had seen anything like that had been in a few crime flicks at the movie theater, where people reached for weapons.

Andrew wouldn’t be the type of guy to carry around something like that…. right?

Glimpsing the frantic look on his face, Audrey couldn't be sure anymore. So, she did her best to calm down the situation. She held up her hands, palms out. “Listen, I know this whole thing looks crazy. Well, I mean, it doesn’t look crazy, it is crazy. But I promise there’s an explanation for everything.”

“What, that the machine in the exhibition hall is producing ink monsters?” Andrew asked. “That some of those monsters look like people we know?”

Audrey edged a little closer to them. “Not ink monsters, and I’m Audrey. Your co-worker. Your friend." Oh, how she hoped that last one would hold true. The expressions on the faces were inscrutable, but based on what Andrew had just said, possibilities as wide and varied as the storylines from flicks like Invasion of the Body Snatchers or maybe even, considering the ink, Beware! The Blob were passing through their minds. Panic could lead to bizarre conclusions, after all, and they probably felt as if they had stepped into a sci-fi/horror film in process.

She could understand them being caught between wanting to run and complete paralysis. They probably wanted to wake up from this terrifying daydream and go back to where everything was normal again. To where they would get ready for work, head to the animation studio, and create as they had always done. Audrey remembered the same yearning only too well.

That was when Inky made himself known, reflected on the glass case display for a banjo. “They do not even recognize you?” he grumbled. “Some friends they are.”

“What is that horrible thing?!” Marge nearly wailed, and both she and Andrew turned to look straight at Inky in the glass case, who appeared just as surprised they had seen and heard him. No one on the streets of New York City had seemed able to see or hear Inky. They would pass right on by as if he didn’t exist.

Then again, maybe the old man had... No, there were other things to deal with first, Audrey reminded herself.

Audrey remembered the ink she had seen on her co-workers' faces, and the way it had disappeared. Had them touching the ink somehow made Inky visible to them? Of course, that wasn’t the biggest crisis at the second. The biggest crisis was that the appearance of Inky had caused them to flee, and if they left the exhibition room in such a state, who knew where it could lead?

Audrey chased after them, “Wait, please! I can explain everything! This isn’t what you probably think it looks like!” The words tumbled out of her lips in a rush, and the tension only rose as she heard the undeniable sounds of the door to the exhibition room closing. Audrey and Bendy reached it just as the door slid shut.

They were sealed in the room.

Trapped.

Bendy hugged onto her legs, his lower lip trembling. Audrey stroked him between his horns while, on the other side of the sealed door, Marge said, “What are you doing, Andrew? We just locked Audrey in there!”

“No, we locked something in there. Just wait, all right?” Andrew muttered, trying to get his breath back. Clearly trying to calm his own racing mind. “Something came out of that machine. That machine came from Gent. The same place where people disappeared, Marge.”

Audrey could hear them right on the other side of the door. Trying to make sense of what was happening. They still had a chance if Marge and Andrew didn’t take the elevator up and leave them behind—and to do that, Audrey would need to start explaining things. No matter what might happen.

“Marge?” Audrey asked. “Please, can you hear me?”

After a long pause, “…Yes?” Marge said, hesitantly.

Audrey took a deep breath, then released it. “You once promised that if I went on a date with Andrew in your place to the Met, I could ask you for anything in return. Well, I know it’s a huge order, but I need you to listen to me now.”

Silence on the other side.

“My father was Joey Drew. I told that to Andrew as well when he asked. I’ve worked here at Archgate Films for years now. I’ve kept to myself, working hard from morning until late at night on animated features, but then something crazy, the same kind of crazy you just saw, happened to me, and my life hasn’t been the same since then.” She sighed. “I learned Bendy was real, and I brought him home with me, and he kind of has an older brother who appears in his reflections. I’ve been keeping them a secret, and Bendy has needed to wear a disguise everywhere we go, so people don’t recognize him.”

“Do you know how insane that sounds?” Andrew said as, meanwhile, Bendy broke away from Audrey and went to examine something he had spotted on the floor.

“I know it does. I felt the same way, but it’s true. I found out my father worked with Gent to make The Ink Machine. Hmm. The machine here in the exhibition room.” The secrets Audrey had kept coiled up inside her all this time while moving about in the Real World came spurting out all at once like ink from a dropped inkwell. “He used it to make another world. A world where Bendy and other creations could exist. And… he used it to make me. Because he wanted a family.”

She expected to be crying at this point. It was that kind of release, but after everything Audrey had gone through, all she felt was tired. She was worn from the pressure of holding everything inside.

“Listen, I know you probably feel hurt and confused that I didn’t tell you anything,” Audrey murmured. She slid down the door to sit on the floor. “But if you were in my situation, how could you tell other people? Even if they were your friends, they might not believe even half the crazy things you’d been through. It might even put them in danger. And then they likely wouldn’t be your friends anymore, and you would feel alone—as you didn’t realize you’d been until all those crazy things happened to you.”

“I don’t feel hurt about it, exactly,” Marge said quietly. “And you’re right. We didn’t talk much until a few months ago. But, if it wasn’t for you, I might have never reconnected with Andrew.”

“You’re not the only one who has secrets they couldn’t tell anyone,” Andrew added, his voice calmer but still a little shaky.

Bendy walked up to Audrey and held out something to her. She took and flipped it open, glimpsing the gleam of metal in one of the dim lights of the corridor.

“Like the fact you’re a private detective?” Audrey asked.

“Was,” Andrew said. “I just carry the badge around for sentimental reasons sometimes, and once in a while, I still reach for handcuffs and other things I used to own.”

“So, those years Marge said you were missing…”

“I wanted to find out what happened to my father,” Andrew muttered, “but things didn’t exactly go well there, so I eventually gave it up and came to work at Archgate Films—to piece together what life I still had left.”

Marge took this opportunity to interject, “Andrew told me about everything after what happened at the museum, but he asked me to stay quiet about it. So, you weren’t the only one keeping secrets, Audrey! I kept them too.”

“Does this mean you actually believe me?” Audrey asked, as Marge’s words sunk in fully. “Does this mean we’re still friends?”

She heard the clicks of buttons getting pressed on the keypad, and the door slid open to reveal Marge, her eyes brimming with tears while Andrew looked a bit ashamed. Audrey stood just in time for Marge to throw her arms around her and say, “Best friends!”

***

The four of them walked right up to Mrs. Fern in the front room. “What happened to you?” Mrs. Fern asked, noticing the light splatter stains on Marge and Andrew’s clothes. When she saw where they were heading, she added, “Wait a minute. Where are you going?”

Andrew took care of this one. “We found out Audrey and her son Benny had spent the night here because of that stalker incident the other day, so we planned to escort them home. You know how it is.” He nodded at Bendy, now back in his full disguise, and jerked a thumb towards the city streets outside. “We want to make sure they stay safe, and then Marge and l will come back. Audrey is going to take the day off to stay with Benny and calm him down.”

Sympathy filled Mrs. Fern’s face. She looked at Audrey and Bendy, “Oh, you poor dears,” she said. “I was telling Harvey only the other day how bad things are getting, where you have to watch your back just walking around this city.”

“Yep,” Harvey the security guard agreed, sipping his usual morning coffee as he leaned against the wall.

“You go ahead and take all the time you need in going home,” Mrs. Fern said, generously. “I know Nathan Arch would understand.”

“Thank you,” Audrey said, squeezing Bendy’s hand. As they left the studio together, all of them gazed along the city street as if expecting to see the tall workman from the other day appear like a bogeyman from between one of the buildings. But he was nowhere in sight, and neither was his truck.

Audrey heaved a relieved sigh as they headed down the street. “Thank you again for everything,” she said. “You’re the best.”

“I can’t believe I’m walking down the street with Bendy.” Now that Marge had apparently gotten over the initial shock of their encounter, she was beaming. “The real Bendy The Dancing Demon.” She looked ready to squeal.

“I do not see what is so special about that,” Inky grumbled.

Andrew’s glance slid to the windows they passed. “Hmm. No offense, but Bendy’s ‘older brother’ is kind of creepy,” he said, watching as Inky lumbered along beside them. “I don’t remember him ever showing up in the old cartoons.”

Inky snorted at him.

“It’s a long story,” Audrey replied, “and I know I still have a lot of explaining to do, but…” She paused, suddenly realizing, “Oops. We’re going the wrong way. My apartment is in the other direction.”

“True,” Marge said. “We figured you might like to swing by Phil’s Ice Cream Parlor for their Super Grande Sundae special before we walk you home.”

Now there really was a squeal. It came from Bendy, who was bouncing on his heels in absolute excitement. The little guy more than approved of this detour.

***

The Super Grande Sundae was even more delicious than advertised, but what Audrey savored the most was the knowledge that Marge and Andrew had listened to her. They were still her friends despite everything she had told them, and everything they knew she still had to tell them. But those were things they could find other times, soon enough, to share.

In the meantime, it simply felt good to have friends she could count on, both in The Ink World and out in The Real World.

Chapter Text

The whole thing began when Audrey noticed the drawing of a little cupcake on her kitchen calendar while making breakfast one morning. Her calendars had never usually held much in the way of specific dates marked for anything special or set apart from the rest, but she had always taken the time after purchasing a new one to doodle in the cupcake amid the first week of October. Because it was what her father had done when she was a child.

“You’re going to get a cupcake with a bright candle on it to start off your special day, Audrey,” her father had said, ruffling her hair and making her giggle. “But that’s only the beginning. After all, you are my little girl, and you are the biggest star of my life.”

Joey Drew. Her father.

She hadn’t really celebrated the occasion since moving into the apartment or beginning to work at Archgate Films. It was awkward to celebrate anything when you were alone in the world, and kind of sad, so all she had tended to do was muse on the vague memories of her childhood. And now the whole thing was even more awkward, given all her tangled-up feelings about her father. Audrey still couldn’t decide how to feel about him. Or maybe she would forever swing somewhere between loving and hating him.

Audrey heaved a heavy sigh.

“Audrey.” For a moment, she was lingering in that memory, trying to catch some glimpse of the horrible person her father had been towards so many people she cared about.

“Audrey.” If she probed the memory long enough, the happiness and perfection might peel away to reveal an underlying tragedy. The fact she could only remember the best aspects of the times with her father was worrisome. What if he had somehow tampered with her recollections to cast him in the best possible light?

It felt like something Joey Drew would do to cover up his mistakes. The Joey Drew everyone else knew.

“Audrey!” Inky roared, shattering her memory and thoughts, and revealing the smoke billowing up from around the edges of the waffle iron. Before she could react, Bendy had flung himself halfway up onto the counter to pull the plug, but she did reach out to ease him back onto the floor afterwards—right before she opened the iron.

Darkened rectangles greeted them.

Audrey sighed. “They’re completely ruined.”

“You were zoning out,” Inky grumbled. “How could they turn out any other way?”

“I’m so sorry, you two,” Audrey said, already grabbing the supplies to make more batter. “How about pancakes and eggs, instead? It shouldn’t take very long.”

“Fine, if you can pay attention this time,” Inky replied, glancing back down at the latest monster-centric book he was reading at the kitchen table.

Bendy, meanwhile, wrote in his notebook, “Why were you staring at the calendar, Audrey?”

She nearly spilled the batter that she was pouring into a pan. Bendy was studying the little cupcake design, then shooting her a curious glance, clearly expecting the kind of thorough explanation Audrey often gave to his questions. But, this time, Audrey wasn’t sure exactly how to respond.

It wasn’t only because bringing up her father would stir so many emotions. During their most recent trip into The Ink World, Audrey had even thought about holding a special birthday celebration at some point for Bendy and Inky as a surprise. The only problem was that once she took a moment to think about it, she had realized just how traumatic and grievous their birthdays had been.

The thought of throwing them a surprise birthday party might have just been… insensitive, in other words.

“I’m just remembering a few things from my childhood, that’s all,” Audrey finally said, since at least that was the truth. Or, at least, as close to the truth as she could get without second-guessing her own responses. She flipped a pancake onto a plate and started on the eggs.

Inky glanced up from his book. “You are being vague, Audrey.” He sounded suspicious, and Bendy agreed. The little guy nodded his head, and he pulled out his notebook. However, Audrey made of point of handing him a plate loaded with pancakes and eggs to thwart his attempts to write down whatever question was on his mind.

The problem was Bendy clearly understood she was using an evasive tactic on him. He glanced at the calendar again, then at her, but then thankfully went to have his meal at the table. As a result, breakfast was quieter than usual. Inky had stopped reading his book altogether. It was possible he had finished the page and was waiting for Bendy to flip to the next one, but the more likely reason was that he, like Bendy, was paying very close attention to her and waiting for her to say something to break the stillness.

They were waiting for her to crack and tell them what was going on. Inky wasn’t even grumbling or growling; he was simply watching her in expectation. And their combined scrutiny was working.

At last, Audrey sighed and put down her fork, and the tension immediately eased. Bendy perked up with his smile widening, and Inky drew closer to the mirror as if to hear better. “All right, there is something on my mind, and it’s hard for me to—”

A lively series of knocks on the door interrupted the moment. “Good morning, we’re here!” Marge called out from the hallway.

“I’m coming,” Audrey called back, heaving an involuntary sigh of relief, and springing to her feet.

“Oh, good,” Inky rasped. “That means the squeamish detective is there too.” He sniggered, already ducking down in the mirrored reflection. “Do invite them in, Audrey.”

Despite the welcomed break, Audrey frowned. “You should try to take it a bit easier on Andrew, Inky. He is a good person.”

“He is a good target, you mean,” Inky returned, still savoring the moment, and Audrey had to admit that until the past week, she had never realized just how easy it was to startle her co-worker.

Perhaps it had something to do with his reflexes as a former detective kicking in when some imposing, shadowy form sprang up at the edge of his vision, or perhaps it had something to do with the fact that when all five of them had gone out together, Inky had taken full advantage of the storefront windows to mess with him. He had pretended to pounce upon Andrew’s reflection, had reached out long claws at the same from around various corners, and had then simply stalked behind him menacingly. When they had shared a booth at Tony’s Pizzeria, Inky had waited until Andrew had happened to shift his gaze over towards some reflective surface before springing into sight.

Andrew had been sipping some ice water, and it had ended up squirting right out of his nose. Bendy had stared at the scene like a conjuring trick, but Inky had practically howled in triumph at having discovered a new form of entertainment.

“You do realize the reason Andrew is such a good target and on edge is because he has been looking out for the old gentleman who chased after us, don’t you? He doesn’t need to do that,” Audrey admonished him. “Additionally, Marge is helping us in the same way, but I don’t see you scaring her.”

They had seen a great deal of Marge and Andrew, partly due to concerns for their safety, and partly because there had just been so much for Audrey to explain. Besides that, Marge was making what extra efforts she could to show she fully supported them, and her enthusiasm was a force in itself—which was perhaps why Inky shifted somewhat uneasily when Audrey mentioned her.

Inky huffed. “It is not as much fun to scare her. She likes it.”

Audrey sighed as she went to answer the door.

Marge was standing there with her usual bubbliness. “Hi, Audrey. Are you all ready to head out?”

“Almost. You can come in. I just need to grab my workbag.” Audrey paused. “Where is Andrew?”

“Oh, he’s waiting for us out on the sidewalk. Ah, and how are you doing, Bendy?” Marge took the cartoonish imp by the hands and pumped them up and down energetically, while Bendy offered her a friendly smile in return. “You know, when I was a little girl, I used to dream about meeting cartoon characters like you sometimes, and Boris, and even Alice Angel.”

“I still don’t see what is so special about him,” Inky grumbled. “You don’t even have a clue when it comes to the others.” He had poked his head back into full view in the mirror at learning Andrew was nowhere in sight. However, when Marge turned a toothy grin on him, he seemed ready to hide again.

“Don’t be jealous, I didn’t forget about you, Inky,” Marge assured him, heading towards the mirror, her enthusiasm thick and almost tangible.

Audrey noticed Inky drawing back as she got closer, and decided to spare him what could very well have been an approaching hug. “We’d better get going. We don’t want to be late.”

Marge pulled up short, spotting the time on the wall clock. “Oh, my goodness, you’re right. We do need to get going. Bye, Inky. Bye, Bendy,” she said, heading out the door.

Audrey paused and looked back at them. “See you two a bit later. We’ll be enjoying a nice, quiet meal here at home tonight, all right?” She waved to Bendy and Inky, then locked up the apartment and followed Marge.

***

“There is something… unnerving about Marge,” Inky muttered after they were gone.

Bendy wrote in his notebook, “Marge is kind. She is a good friend. She believed what Audrey said about us.” He could still remember how sad and desperate Audrey had appeared in the sealed exhibition room, even though she had been doing her best to stay strong. Anyone who would let them out again, and who was doing so many nice things with and for them, couldn’t have been too bad. And Audrey trusted her and Andrew.

“She is still unnerving,” Inky insisted with a snort. “I am going back to my book.”

Now that Audrey and Marge had left, however, Bendy went to stare at the kitchen calendar again. Specifically, at the cupcake with a small lit candle stuck into the frosting on the top. It was a cheerful image. Still, staring at it had made Audrey look so sad for some reason. He crawled up onto the counter and took it down, flipping through the pages.

The rest of them were empty aside from the dates. The cupcake failed to appear anywhere else. Audrey must have drawn it for a very specific reason.

Bendy tapped his foot as he pondered the issue, then he turned to Inky and wrote in his notebook, “Why do you think Audrey drew a cupcake on the calendar?”

“Why do you think I would know? She could have done it for any number of reasons that she didn’t want to tell us,” Inky grumbled sulkily.

Another lengthy pause took place while Bendy thought through this latest issue. Inky was unable to answer the question, and his Fluffy the Bunny books had never mentioned cupcakes on calendars.

His eyes lit up.

There was someone who might know…

***

“What do you know about someone named Thomas Connor?” Audrey asked as they crossed at an intersection. They had once again been in the middle of discussing what her life had been like up until now, so they could be on the same page moving forward.

Marge blinked, thinking back through the long and winding course of their conversation over the past several days. “I think you mentioned there was a Thomas Connor working at Joey Drew Studios, right? No, wait, he was one of the contractors from Gent that Joey Drew hired to work on projects for him.”

Audrey nodded. “It sounded like he worked closely with my fath—Joey Drew.” Best to keep him in perspective, she reminded herself, as the head of Joey Drew Studios. Not as her father. “He was involved with The Ink Machine somehow and with keeping Inky a secret by locking him away.”

“The poor thing,” Marge said, then nudged Andrew, who was listening while scanning the street. “You’ve done some digging. What do you know about Thomas Connor?”

Andrew sighed. “I know he’s virtually nonexistent in written records like newspaper articles or other public documents. The main articles where he has gotten a mention, often as a sort of manager, came from a writer named Dorothy Turner, who claimed to have worked as a writing intern at Joey Drew Studios many years ago.” His fingers curled into fists as he continued, “However, it is painfully obvious most of her articles got edited to such a degree as to say practically nothing substantive. Anyone who would read them would come away with the impression she loved her job at Joey Drew Studios, and that they offered jobs to diverse groups of people.”

“I don’t suppose you were able to track down Dorothy Turner at all?” Audrey asked, even though she had the unsettling feeling she already knew the answer.

“There were reports of her disappearing under ‘mysterious circumstances’ around the same time many of the articles got published.” Andrew shook his head. “The interesting thing is at least two of them came out after she disappeared, but even that incongruity wasn’t enough to raise eyebrows.”

“Gent probably took her away for their experiments,” Audrey murmured.

“Gent did an impeccable job of covering their tracks,” Andrew said, his face hard and serious. “Their CEO, Alan Gray, has so many connections in politics and the business industry to get any charges raised against Gent dropped. Learning just how corrupt the whole process was…” The fury in his face died abruptly “…was one reason I eventually quit. Because no one really cared about the truth of it.” He touched his breast pocket, where his detective badge rested. And Marge took his hand and squeezed it comfortingly.

Their spirits were low, and Audrey experienced a sharp pinch of guilt that asking about Thomas Connor had provoked so much anger and pain. It was not a good frame of mind to have when heading in work, and she decided not to add for the time being that she suspected the old gentleman they had come across might indeed be the Thomas Connor whose identity had eluded Andrew in so many records. It was something she could do later, after work.

“By the way,” Audrey said amid the sudden, tense silence, “I need some advice about birthdays.”

***

Bendy returned to the kitchen table and flipped open the sketch book to the blank pages where Audrey usually exchanged letters with Henry in The Ink World, or where sometimes Bendy would get art lessons from Henry as well.

He wrote, “Good morning, Henry. It’s me, Bendy. I want to ask about cupcakes with candles.”

While waiting for a response, Bendy went to work on his city built from wooden blocks. It had grown a great deal over the weeks. Tunnels wound under a footstool, the coffee table, and around the couch in their small living room. He had several skyscrapers now, and narrow streets where the toy cars Audrey had bought for him managed to zip along.

On the wall nearby was the framed family portrait he had crayoned of him, Audrey, and Inky standing together.

Inky grumbled, “Your city is getting too big. There are monsters that destroy large cities, tearing them apart, so the residents need to build them all over again. You could do that.”

Horrified at the thought of demolishing any bit of his masterpiece, Bendy wrote, “No!” in his notebook and held it up for Inky to see.

“Audrey almost tripped over it yesterday,” Inky growled.

Bendy lowered the notebook. Well, he didn’t want Audrey to trip over his city…

“You got a reply, by the way,” Inky rasped, then added, “Turn the page in my book.”

Bendy turned the book page for Inky, and then read what Henry had written.

“Hello, Bendy,” the message went. “Cupcakes with candles, you say?” There was something odd about the letters, which he had trouble putting his finger on.

“Audrey drew a cupcake with a candle on a date on the calendar. What does that mean?” Bendy wrote, still staring at the previous message and scratching his head. It was still on his mind when Inky demanded another book to read—this one was about a slithery serpent called, “Slippery,” according to the cover. He’d flipped to the first page that had a picture of a long snake sliding into a drainpipe when the response appeared in the sketch book.

“Why, that means it’ll be her birthday soon!”

Bendy cocked his head and wrote, “What is a birthday?”

“‘What is a birthday?’” The incredulous reply appeared close on the heels of his question. “A birthday is a celebration of the day you were born!”

Bendy wouldn’t have expected Henry to put it that way. Of course, then again… he suddenly realized what had been bothering him about the letters. He flicked back to prior exchanges with Henry and found the handwriting was much different.

Someone else was on the other end of the exchange this time. Not Henry.

Still, whoever it was had answered his question and seemed nice enough. Maybe it was Norman?

“What happens on a birthday?” Bendy asked in his next message, curious about who was writing back to him, but also just as curious about this celebration that had distracted Audrey so much.

The next reply took much longer, and while he waited, Bendy wondered why Audrey would single out the day she was born. His earliest memories still made him tremble. He would rather have forgotten them, and Inky had gone through terrible things as well. But Audrey must have enjoyed her earliest memories. They must have been happy.

Maybe that was why she got a birthday celebration of her very own.

At last, the response came. “Birthdays are chances for friends and family to say how happy they are the person is alive. They put together a party, decorate, and bake a special cake covered in candles. They even give them presents to show how much they care.”

Bendy thought about it. Birthdays sounded like fun. A lot of fun. It was little wonder Audrey liked them so much, but he also remembered she had mentioned being alone for a long time before she had met him and Inky. Before they had become a family. Audrey must have gone without birthdays for all that time.

Ah, so that was why Audrey had looked so sad when she was looking at the calendar. She thought no one would care to celebrate her birthday, but they would celebrate it. They would show Audrey they were happy she was alive.

“Thank you! Bye!” Bendy jotted down. He closed the sketch book.

Inky glanced up from his book and grimaced. “Why are you squeaking like that?”

“We’re going to celebrate Audrey’s birthday!” Bendy wrote in his notebook and presented it to him, grinning.

***

“You want to throw Bendy and Inky a birthday party?” Marge asked in excitement as Audrey plopped into the chair at her work desk.

Audrey sighed. “I thought about it, at least. Now I’m not so sure. They don’t exactly have the happiest memories of being born.” She looked at the framed picture near her desk that showed the cartoon characters of Bendy, Boris, and Alice walking together down a country road. “I want to hold a celebration, but I also don’t want to dredge up painful memories for them.”

“I can see how that would be terrible,” Marge said. She considered it, twirling one of the pencils in her frizzly hair until her eyes brightened. “Well, you don’t have to stress them being born. You could just say you want to celebrate being together with them in a special way.”

Andrew’s lips tweaked in a smile. “Yeah, Margie knows all about throwing wild birthday parties. Like the kind she threw for her kid brother, Wally Jr., back when we were in high school.”

Marge gasped and batted at his shoulder. “I thought I told you never to bring that up again, Andrew!” However, she was practically laughing at that point.

“The ultimate authority on parties here decorated her family’s backyard so well it was like a fairyland and invited all the kids in his third-grade class at once. She even got her father to dress up like a clown to do balloon animals, except he didn’t know the first thing about doing balloon animals. It was magical chaos.”

“Go back to work, you,” Marge said, pushing him out of Audrey’s office. She followed him, of course--although not before she looked over her shoulder and said, “Don’t you worry, Audrey, Andrew and I will help you to throw the best birthday bash ever for Bendy and Inky, and they are going to love it. Trust me.”

“Thanks, Marge,” Audrey said, feeling reassured as she turned to start her workday.

She would show Bendy and Inky how much fun birthdays could be. They would all have a wonderful time together, and she would throw it for them right on the day she had usually celebrated her birthday as a kid. Now it would be their special day, indicated by the cupcake with the candle. Audrey would show them how happy she was that they were alive.

They were in for quite a surprise.

Chapter Text

Henry decided to take the longer route to the first floor. He had walked there all the way from the subway station, taking narrow corridors, climbing steps, and opening hatches. It was a feat he would have considered foolhardy in past Cycles, given how distracted he was the whole time. But ever since the defeat of Sammy and his congregation in Lost City, and the conversion of Alice Angel back into Susie Campbell, the halls of The Studio had grown much calmer.

Even so, he still traveled with a wrench in his back pocket.

The walls were constantly creaking, but Henry also found nothing odd about that. They just naturally creaked while he was deep in a conversation with Wandering, whose latest message, revealed by The Seeing Tool, read, “You could draw a garden. We remember gardens were pretty.”

Henry sighed. “Gardens are pretty, Wandering, and I’d agree one of them would make a welcoming sight whenever someone came through the front door of the manor.” He turned a corner and started up a short flight of wooden steps. “It’s a solid suggestion, but the replacement for the picture in the foyer needs to be extra special.”

A pause followed. He walked in silence for a while, with his footsteps on the wooden floorboards below and the occasion drip of ink as the only sounds to break the stillness.

More creaks.

Henry lifted his Seeing Tool.

“Lost City?” Wandering suggested.

He thought about it. Lost City was looking much better these days. Audrey may have renovated the area to give The Lost Ones and others nicer places to live and do business, but it felt like the residents had added their own personal touches to it amid all the cleanup efforts. Just the other day—and it truly was day, with the sun shining high in the skies—Henry had found a humanoid sculpture constructed out of tin cans in front of the grocery store, which apparently represented what the grocer termed, “The New Lost One.”

More Lost Ones had taken to wearing bits of clothing or other adornments as well, as if attempting to showcase their individuality—and Henry had realized he was watching a cultural movement of sorts get underway for them. They had a city and had successfully defended it against a threat. A new dawn had arrived in the most literal sense. Things in their world were still challenging in some ways, but it was much warmer and happier than in the past, and they had powerful protectors.

Henry had seen more than crude, painted outlines of a winged angel accompanied by an imp, and instantly recognized them as Audrey and Bendy. Exactly what Audrey would think about such depictions of herself as an angel was something he planned to decide for herself during her next visit to The Studio.

“That’s another good idea,” Henry said aloud. “But it still doesn’t feel just right.”

More creaking. This time, Wandering suggested, “The Ink Harmony Park Community Theater?”

Well, there was a possibility. Their community theater was still under construction, but everyone was making great progress on it, and Tom had thrown himself into the whole project with such a great deal of enthusiasm that Allison had needed to remind him to take a break from time to time. Buddy swung by all the time to pass out pizzas to the work crew, which was a great enticement for more Lost Ones to join the undertaking.

Music filled the park as well, although some of it was squeakier and shriller in parts than others, because Sammy Lawrence was putting together a band. A band of Lost Ones whose approach to music, according to Sammy, was like a runaway cable car. He complained left and right about their chances of ever producing a single harmonious note, but he kept at it—perhaps because the band helped him to cope with the bizarre circumstances of living in The Studio.

As for Susie Campbell… She still spent most of her time in her guestroom at Betty’s Manor or wandered the halls a bit, although Betty reported having managed to get into a few brief conversations with her about singing and what life was like for up-in-coming performers in New York City. It was a start at least, even if Susie continued to wear the mask.

Henry mulled the idea over for a while longer before shaking his head. “Allison has already asked if I might do a drawing of the community theater to hang in the front lobby, alongside some other artwork around the place. I want to create something unique but appropriate for the manor as it is now.”

A single creak this time.

“You and Betty?”

Henry stared at the words for a while, feeling his face go warm as the walls made several, smaller creaking noises and squeaks, as if ink were spurting out from small creaks in the pipes. He realized with a start that Wandering was laughing and making a lighthearted joke at his expense.

“Oh, be quiet.” Henry batted lightly at the golden words on the wall with his hand, which only caused the rattling sounds to continue as he strode along and finally reached a set of steps that led up to the first floor. He opened a hatchway, headed down the hall, and stopped in at the breakroom to say hi to Norman, who was projecting a scene of a bird building a nest in a tree and, from the way he was dabbing at his lens with a handkerchief, finding the whole thing very emotional.

The projector switched off when Norman turned to wave at him.

“I’m going to be doodling up here for a while,” Henry said. “You wouldn’t happen to have any ideas for what I should draw for a large picture to welcome people at Betty’s Manor, would you?”

Norman thought about it as he followed Henry into the front room, scratching his head, and then projected a scene of Ink Harmony Park onto the wall.

Henry sighed.

That was when he noticed the mailbox was open. It was one of those things which would strike Henry as very odd when he thought about it later, since he had tended to close the mailbox after finishing his exchanges with Audrey or Bendy. He even turned and asked Norman, “Did you touch the mailbox?”

Norman cocked his head in confusion, then shook it.

There was a letter inside the mailbox, though, from Bendy. The cartoonish imp had asked if they might have another art lesson, and since a bit of a break from his largest art project was exactly what he needed at the time, Henry replied he was free and looked forward to picking up where they had left last time. He also asked if Bendy had been practicing.

The response Henry received was a little peculiar.

“Yay, it’s you, Henry!” Bendy wrote.

Henry chuckled. Who else had Bendy expected to write back? But then they launched into the latest lessons, and he had to admit the little guy was a fast learner. His bunnies were becoming fluffier and more expressive as they went along, and at least their other proportions made sense. After about half an hour of these exchanges, Henry commented, “You should really show some of these latest pictures to Audrey. She would love how much progress you’ve made.”

There was an unexpected pause afterwards, until Henry almost believed something had happened to pull Bendy’s attention away from the sketch book on his end. It happened sometimes, and of course he understood.

“Henry, we need to see you.”

Well, that was different. “You and Audrey want to come and visit?” Henry replied. “Well, that’s just fine. There are a lot of things to show you, and Buddy has been eager to treat you to one of his Ultra-Mega Pizza Deluxe meals.”

“No, Inky says we should see you. Not Audrey.”

“You and Inky?”

“Yes.”

Henry considered this prospect. There was a time not too long ago when the thought of meeting up with Inky and Bendy alone for any reason would have led to an instant rejection from him. Ah, how times had changed. As such, he simply wrote down, “That should be fine. I’m just a bit surprised. Wouldn’t Audrey like to come as well, or is it that she’s working?” Audrey had mentioned how often Bendy and Inky stayed alone at the apartment while she went to Archgate Films.

“It’s a surprise for Audrey,” Bendy wrote back. “We want to come tomorrow.”

A surprise for Audrey.

Ah, so that was it. “I see. Well, we’ll discuss everything when you get here, then.”

“Oops, Inky said I shouldn’t have written about the surprise for Audrey. He says she could see it in our conversation.” A moment later, Bendy added, “Now he says I shouldn’t have said that either.”

Henry mused on the issue for a moment. “All right, how about we do this? We’ll continue our art session for a while, until you have filled several pages in the sketch book, so this slip of our conversation will get ‘buried,’ in a sense. When you can, tell Audrey that I’d like to speak with her.”

“Good!” Bendy replied, and they did exactly as Henry had suggested, spending the next hour or so drawing bunnies and various objects. It was a calm way to spend the time, and Norman kept him company during the pauses by projecting any number of pleasant scenes on the walls, while Wandering set up a tic-tac-toe game that they took turns playing with Norman and Henry.

At last, Bendy jotted in the sketch book, “Audrey is home.”

“Great,” Henry answered.

***

Audrey half expected Bendy and Inky to ask about their awkward conversation at breakfast when she returned from work. Instead, they seemed to have forgotten all about the matter of the cupcake design on the calendar, which made her sigh in relief. The last thing she wanted to do was sound evasive again or give away the slightest hints of the plans already in motion to throw them a party.

They greeted her with greater enthusiasm than usual. Bendy had brewed a fresh pot of coffee, and the moment Audrey entered the apartment, he closed the sketch book—apparently, he had been having another art session with Henry—and rushed over to throw his arms around her legs in an embrace. It was as if he hadn’t seen her in days. “Goodness, Bendy.” She laughed. “I’m happy to see you too.”

Inky snorted. “I think he is a little too excited,” he growled, drumming his claw tips on the bottom of the mirror.

“Ah, there’s nothing wrong with that,” Audrey said as she stroked Bendy between the horns. “And I’m of course I’m happy to see you too, Inky.” She held up a plastic bag with a small symbol for the A&P Supermarket, where she had stopped briefly on the way home. “I picked up a chef’s salad and some baked salmon for dinner. How does that sound?”

Bendy bounced on his heels, excited at this new cuisine choice, when there came a sharp grunt from Inky, almost as if he were clearing his throat. Mouth forming into a small O, as if he had realized something, Bendy pulled out his notebook. “Henry wants to talk to you, Audrey,” he wrote, beaming. “It’s important.”

“Important?” Audrey frowned, concerned. Everything had seemed to be going so well in The Ink World. Then again, the unexpected had a way of happening there. “Is there something wrong?”

Bendy’s smile faltered. He looked at Inky, who placed a clawed hand over his face in exasperation and groaned, "Just go talk to Henry.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” Audrey said. She set the plastic bag on the kitchen table, sat down, and opened the sketch book. She reached a fresh page for writing letters and wrote, “Hi, Henry. It’s me, Audrey. Bendy said you wanted to speak with me?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she heard Inky growl low in his throat at Bendy, who appeared sheepish as he shrugged his shoulders.

There was something going on between those two. Maybe some sort of disagreement?

Henry replied in his next message, “Good evening, Audrey. There’s something I’d like to ask you.”

“Yes?”

“You remember that Betty asked me to create a picture to replace the eyesore in her foyer, right? Well, I think it would be a good opportunity for Bendy to learn a bit about drawing things on a larger scale.”

Audrey smiled. “He has been making a lot of progress.” She glanced around at the pictures on the walls and the refrigerator.

“I wanted to ask if he could come to The Studio tomorrow, so I could give him the lesson in person,” Henry went on.

“Well, I have work…” Audrey paused, glancing up at Bendy and Inky. “Henry wants you to come to visit him tomorrow for an art lesson?”

Bendy nodded vigorously, his eyes sparkling in glee. Inky, meanwhile, shrugged his shoulders as if he could care less. “I guess we could go,” he grumbled. “It can get boring when you are gone.”

Audrey glanced around at the apartment again, at the walls that compared with the much larger outside world probably seemed somewhat constrictive nowadays. She sighed. “Yeah, it probably does get boring. I’m sorry, you two. I don’t mean to make you feel closed in so much. Things have just been busy at work since we are about to get started on a new feature.”

She would also be later than usual, she added silently, because she and Marge planned to spend some time even after work to do some shopping for the party over the next several days.

“But it is not too boring here!” Bendy hurriedly wrote in his notebook and held it up, whistling urgently at Inky. “Right?”

Inky snorted again. “We want to see our other world for a while.”

“It should be all right,” Audrey said at last. “You could come in with me to work, travel into The Ink World, and then I could go there to pick you up after work.”

“Let us do that,” Inky rasped.

“Okay, but I would like to ask a few things of you.” Here, Audrey looked specifically at Inky. “Please be on your best behavior around Andrew and Marge tomorrow, all right? The reason Andrew has been waiting for us outside in the mornings is because he doesn’t want you to pop out of nowhere and give him a start.”

Inky grumbled, but reluctantly consented.

“And please do the same for Henry and the others in The Ink World,” Audrey persisted.

Inky growled, “You think we would cause trouble?”

She simply looked at him.

“Fine, it is a fair point. Bendy will be his usual annoying self, I am sure. I, however, will make no guarantees.” Inky sniggered. “Anything else while we are taking orders?”

“Have a good time. I’ll be thinking of you,” Audrey said.

Inky grumbled, “We will not be gone that long.”

Even so, Bendy slipped off his chair and came to give Audrey a warm hug.

“You’ll see them tomorrow,” Audrey replied to Henry.

Then they prepared and had a delicious dinner.

***

The following morning, Bendy was wearing his disguise at breakfast, clearly eager to be out and about. Marge was at first confused, but then happy when Audrey explained Bendy and Inky would be coming along, so they spend the day in The Ink World. Andrew met the news with somewhat less enthusiasm, and he kept glancing to Inky’s reflection in the storefront windows, expecting the usual shenanigans.

However, Inky simply strode along beside them, although he did sometimes shoot Andrew a wide grimace—which was almost worse than his usual stalking and pranks.

They entered Archgate Films and made their way down to the exhibition hall, where Bendy approached The Ink Machine, and Audrey threw the switch. She, Andrew, and Marge stepped back as ink came out the nozzle and swept around Bendy, who had just enough time to wave at them before it pulled him inside.

“This could work out really well, you know,” Marge told Audrey as they took the elevator back up to their floor. “Little Bendy and Big Inky can have a fun day in the studio with all the cartoon characters, and we get the stuff for the party.” She nudged her. “Hey, what’s the matter?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Audrey murmured as they came out on their floor. “It’s just that they seemed so eager to leave for The Ink World, and something Inky mentioned…” She sighed. “They must get very bored in the apartment sometimes.”

And then there’s my father, Audrey felt like adding, who I can’t get completely out of my mind as we get closer and closer to the date with the cupcake design on the calendar. She shook her head to get rid of the thoughts. “I just want them to be as happy as possible, and to have a lot of good memories from now on,” Audrey said.

“They’re going to have great memories, Audrey,” Marge said. “You don’t have to worry about Wilson anymore, and we haven’t seen any other signs of Gent.”

“We still can’t let our guard down,” Andrew reminded her. “I may not have come away with much when I was trying to investigate them, but based on what I did learn about Gent, and what Audrey has told us about them, they wouldn’t give up that easily.”

Audrey bit her lower lip. She was keeping her fingers crossed that Andrew was wrong, but all the evidence had seemed to indicate Gent and its workers were very persistent when they wanted something done.

“Let’s focus on the here and now, okay?” Marge said. “We have a celebration to get ready for, right?”

“Right…” Audrey agreed.

***

Henry was doodling at his desk on the first floor when he noticed a tall, dark presence behind him, dripping ink onto his shoulders. It came closer, and closer, and then—laid a chin atop his head to let the ink dribble down onto his face.

“Hey, get off of me!” He swatted at Inky, for it was indeed The Ink Demon, and grabbed a handkerchief to wipe away the ink.

“It was too easy, but I could not resist,” Inky replied, sniggering at him.

Henry managed to slip past him and into the front room, still wiping at his face. “You mentioned something about a surprise for Audrey?”

“Yes,” Inky said, looming over Henry. He tapped him on the chest with one long, clawed finger. “Audrey will have her birthday soon, and you will help us put together the best celebration she has ever experienced, or else.”

Then, right before his eyes, Inky shrank back down into the far more diminutive form of Bendy, who pulled out his notebook and wrote, “Please?”

Chapter Text

They were working on a new animated feature suggested by Marge, where Bendy had a nightmare. The main antagonistic force in that nightmare was a shadowy monster who would chase him around a carnival and pop up in unexpected locations, including on a rollercoaster and in a maze of mirrors at a funhouse.

It was easy to see from where Marge had drawn her inspiration, and she had even hinted to Audrey that perhaps they could bring Bendy and Inky to watch the feature at the theater after its release. Andrew had volunteered to provide the sound effects for the growling and other ominous noises made by the monster, and Audrey suspected it was some sly way to get back at Inky for all his pranks.

As they began work on the feature, though, all Audrey could think about was Bendy and Inky in The Ink World.

“Ah, I’m sure they’re fine,” Marge assured Audrey during their lunch break, which they spent in the lounge. “They are probably having a great time with the other cartoon characters.” At which Audrey sighed while nursing her cup of coffee. Despite her descriptions of the horrifying first journey into The Ink Machine, Marge had somehow come away with the impression of The Ink World as a cartoon land like the one from the features they animated.

For someone who had never plunged into its depths when The Ink World was at its worst, and who had heard about all the improvements made there in the meantime since getting freed from Wilson, it was probably possible to come away with that impression.

“It’s just that Bendy and Inky haven’t been back there on their own without me since we met and came to The Real World together,” Audrey said. “Of course, it does give them something more to do than wait for me at the apartment.” She sighed.

Andrew slathered butter on a half of his lunch, a sizable bagel, and joked, “I’d be more worried about leaving the dark terror unsupervised.”

“You’d better not be talking about sweet little Bendy,” Marge admonished as she sat in the chair next to him.

“Of course, I’m not,” Andrew said. “Bendy is fine. He’s just fine, and lovable. It’s his older brother who rubs me the wrong way.” Spotting Audrey’s frown, he added, “And only because he keeps targeting me, mind you. He’s relentless.”

“Because you keep reacting to him,” Marge replied. “If you stopped paying attention to his antics, he would stop. Look how quickly he stopped trying to scare me. Now we’re great friends.”

Audrey thought back to the way Inky had shrunk back before Marge’s enthusiasm the previous morning, and a small smile crept to her lips. However, Andrew was less subtle as he remarked, “Personally, I think Inky is intimidated by you, Margie. Haven’t you noticed how much he keeps avoiding you? You’re trying too hard.”

Indignant, Marge turned to Audrey, who found herself suddenly singled out. “You don’t think I’m trying too hard, do you?”

“Umm.” Audrey flicked her glance between them. “Bendy likes you a lot,” she said carefully, “and he is he open to displays of affection. But…”

“But?”

“Inky takes a while to warm up to new people, and he doesn’t feel as comfortable as Bendy does with showing his affection openly. He is just learning how to interact with others beyond me and Bendy, since he hasn’t really had much of an opportunity to do so before under calmer circumstances.”

A meditative silence followed this reply, and then Marge promised, “I’ll try to do better around him.”

“The two of them are like opposites to each other,” Andrew noted. “I remember reading some of the old Bendy comics and, at the time, thinking how much mischief he always got up to. I kind of liked it because he could get away with so much, especially when it came to dealing with the Butcher Gang, who were basically like schoolyard bullies. Meanwhile, the actual Bendy is nice and timid. I couldn’t see him pulling supernatural pranks on a whole town even by accident, for instance.”

Marge chuckled. “I could see Inky doing it.”

“Exactly.” Andrew leaned back in his chair.

“But Bendy gets scared all the time in the cartoons,” Marge pointed out. “He’s nice and timid most of the time there.”

“Inky has told me that when Wilson put him through his experiments,” Audrey could feel her fingers tightening on the coffee mug, “he basically tore him apart, and it led to Bendy’s creation. But what matters is that each of them is a unique individual. Like me, they were born from darkness, but we’re going to make our—their birthdays the best experiences possible.”

Marge shared a peculiar look with Andrew, and then reached over to take Audrey’s hand in her own. “You know what, Audrey?” I think this birthday bash is going to be even better than I thought!” she said, clearly trying to suppress the full extent of her excitement.

***

“Oh my, I think it is a splendid idea,” Betty declared when she heard about the birthday festivities. To prepare for the visit by Bendy and Inky, she had baked a huge plate of chocolate chip cookies, which Bendy munched on towards the beginning, but which Inky wound up gobbling down by the end. “I’ll need to prepare an appropriate feast, and there will be the decorations, and oh, we’ll need to invite everybody.”

She paced the floor, tapping one finger to her lips while apparently visualizing the splendors that would soon adorn the walls of the dining room and along the walls of the manor, and she murmured cursory calculations of the treats she would need to accommodate all the partygoers.

Henry laughed. “We’ll need to get everyone together for the preparations. It’ll be a team effort.”

“But Allison, Tom, and the others have been so busy with the community theater,” Betty mused aloud.

“Believe me, they won’t mind taking time off for this occasion. I think they would feel left out if no one asked them to help, and besides, it’s for Audrey.” Henry turned to Inky, who was grumbling over the sudden absence of cookies. “Wait here while I go and let the others know at Ink Harmony Park.”

“I will go too,” Inky grumbled.

“It will be faster if I just go and let them know,” Henry replied. “I’ll come right back.”

Inky growled, “I am going too. They are part of the preparations for Audrey’s birthday.”

For a moment, a standoff appeared inevitable. Henry did indeed want to quickly travel back and forth from Ink Harmony Park, and while Inky had been behaving himself amazingly well so far, Henry didn’t want to take any chances around all the Lost Ones without having Audrey nearby. It was more likely Inky’s appearance would cause a commotion, even if Bendy took over for a while.

Then Betty placed a hand on Inky’s shoulder, making him flinch. “You know, I could use some help creating the decorations and hanging things up here and there. I don’t have the reach that you do, and if certain things are higher up, they will look much better for Audrey.”

A long pause followed, where a metaphorical pin could have echoed in the silence.

Finally, Inky relented, “Fine. They are still a part of the preparations.” He looked at Henry, though. “You had better come back soon.” The implication was clear; if Henry didn’t come back swiftly enough, Inky would come to find him in Ink Harmony Park or Lost City.

Henry made a mental note to hurry, although he was just proud enough to walk calmly down the hall to the ink fountain, so Inky wouldn’t have the satisfaction of seeing him squirm.

***

Marge had the best strategy planned. She insisted that they would hurry to the nearest party shop to purchase what they needed for the celebration, right after work, while Andrew stayed behind and kept a watch just in case Bendy and Inky popped out of The Ink Machine for one reason or another. Even though Audrey stressed she would be going in there to pick them up.

It was, as Marge stressed, a way to “cover all their bases.” And she wanted to be prepared for any eventuality. Besides that, and perhaps just to lend support to Marge’s argument, Andrew stressed shopping had never been his thing, and so they should go ahead and enjoy themselves.

“We should get it closer to the occasion, but you should also start thinking about what kind of cake or other desserts you would like to have,” Marge told her. “In the meantime, there are presents to consider. Any ideas?”

So, as the workday progressed, all the elements for the party swirled around in Audrey’s mind as she did her best to consider what would make the occasion especially memorable for Bendy and Inky. She had to admit, as much as the recollection still bothered her, that birthdays took a lot more work than expected.

A part of her wondered just how much care and consideration her father had put into preparing for her birthday.

***

Allison and Tom were, as expected, glad to learn about the birthday celebration plans. They promised to swing by later and help with the preparations. Everything was calm up until it became apparent that Heidi had overheard their conversation out on Ink Harmony Park Plaza.

Before Henry could ask her to be discreet, she had told Porter, who muttered, “Our Audrey, you say?” and then continued to pass on the word to others. And within minutes the whole of Ink Harmony Park was buzzing with animated delight. Everyone knew Audrey, and everyone wanted to participate in the effort to celebrate her special day.

Henry was more than a little sure Inky would have smirked at him, while Bendy might have just gotten bowled over by The Lost Ones who swarmed in on all sides, asking for details.

Then Allison stuck two fingers into her mouth and whistled.

The crowd quieted. No one could grab the attention of an audience like Allison, and Tom did his part by barking at and driving back the masses to give Henry some much-needed space. Extra assistance came in the form of Big Steve, whose solution was to toss around several Lost Ones to clear even more room—and sensing Henry had something important to share with the group, the large Lost One lifted and set Henry atop one of his shoulders.

A hush fell over the assembly as Henry, rubbing the back of his neck, announced Audrey would indeed be coming to The Studio in a couple of days, and that they planned to throw a surprise birthday party for her.

It took a while to calm the clamor, and Allison declared, “All right. Listen up, everyone. We should make sure Ink Harmony Park and Lost City are presentable for when Audrey comes. Let’s show her just how much hope she has helped to bring us.”

“Yeah!” The Lost Ones rang out.

***

The hours seemed to move along at a slow pace. Audrey drew sketches, and her thoughts drifted to what made celebrations like birthdays the most meaningful. She couldn’t recall ever really participating in anything too festive, including holidays like Christmas and Thanksgiving, simply because they were things it was usually best to enjoy with friends and family.

Her childhood memories tended to revolve around being in the small apartment with her father, with vague recollections of decorations, happiness, and presents. It was hard to recall too much, even now, except how worn but happy her father had appeared.

The whole thing still bothered her.

And when Audrey thought about being in the small apartment, now she couldn’t help but think about how much Bendy and Inky had to stay in theirs. Spending an afternoon in The Ink World was probably almost freeing for them, since Bendy didn’t need to disguise himself, and Inky could regain his full form.

Marge had regaled Audrey throughout the workday so far with what she had done to arrange Wally Jr.’s birthday, and even a few events for her father, and they sounded so lively. If it had been left up to Audrey alone, they might have had another quiet occasion at the apartment, albeit with more sweets and other goodies.

Audrey sighed, leaned back in her chair. Hopefully this occasion would come to mean just as much for Bendy and Inky as it had at one time for her as a child.

***

When Henry returned to the manor, he found that several streamers had been strung high along the hallway in his absence of black and grayish hues. There were also long strands of ribbons trailing across the floor, which he followed to the opened door of a parlor room, where there were couches and more bookshelves.

Tied up in the middle of it all was Inky. The ribbons wrapped around him from his horns to his legs, and he was grunting and growling as he rocked back and forth on his skeletal spine, trying to free himself. He spotted Henry standing in the doorway, an amused look on his face, and snarled, “One word, and I will chase you down relentlessly and drag you into a closet.”

Exactly what this threat was meant to provoke was unclear, but Betty was already moving this way and that around the struggling demon, trying to find some end of the ribbon to untie.

“Why don’t you transform into Bendy again?” Henry asked. “Then you’ll be small enough to get free right away.”

“I can get free by myself,” Inky retorted.

“Besides, I would like to have Bendy’s help anyway. I told Audrey that your visit would be a good opportunity to give Bendy a valuable art lesson, and I meant it. I am working on a picture to hang in place of the one you disposed of in the foyer, and our conversation the other day gave me an idea for what to do.”

Inky growled and grumbled.

“Audrey will probably ask,” Henry continued, “and it is part of a gift I would like to arrange for her.”

“A gift?” Inky rasped.

“Something special to give Audrey on her birthday.”

There was more growling and grumbling from The Ink Demon as he rocked, but then, miraculously, he shrank, and the ribbons fell around the much smaller form of Bendy—who gave Henry a huge smile, pulled out his notebook, and wrote, “I want to help make Audrey’s present.”

***

The time had come, and the workday was over. Audrey and Marge left Archgate Films and headed a few blocks over at a brisk pace to a small party supply store that, from the way the clerk behind the counter greeted them, was a place where Marge was well-known.

In a kind of daze, Audrey followed Marge up and down the aisles of prepackaged plates, plastic silverware, balloons, and more. “We’ll gather some of the utensils and other smaller supplies first, just to get us started,” Marge said confidently.

“We won’t need to get too much, right?” Audrey asked, a little worried that her friend’s enthusiasm might become as overwhelming for her as it had for Inky.

Marge patted her on the shoulder. “Not much at all. It’s just to show you what is available, with all the different types of designs and styles. Themed birthday parties are a big thing for kids, especially, although I don’t know if you were considering that for Bendy and Inky.”

“I just thought about keeping it simple,” Audrey admitted, dazzled by a row of special tablecloths covered in glittering stars. “Because it’s their first time, I don’t want to hit them with too much all at once.”

“Ah, got it.”

In the end, Audrey and Marge walked out of the party supplies store with birthday-themed plastic plates, some silverware, multicolored streamers, and a “Happy Birthday” banner to hang up in the apartment—which Marge insisted wasn’t so bad for the first trip out, especially with several days left before the celebration would take place.

***

Henry had set up a sizable canvas across two easels in the same room as the grand piano. A coffee table brought into the room held a wide variety of art supplies, which Bendy approached with a sort of quiet awe. The cartoonish imp picked up a few of the brushes, pens, pencils, and other instruments of the craft; he pulled out the notebook and wrote, “What are we going to draw?”

“I have thought about what scene would best replace the self-righteous portrait that Wilson had created,” Henry said, gazing at the blank expanse in front of them. “The other evening, I realized exactly what would make this portrait the most meaningful, right in the front foyer, and that is us.”

Bendy cocked his head, perplexed.

“Audrey, Betty, Allison, Tom, you, Inky, and myself,” Henry said, with the quirk of a smile. “Maybe we can get Wandering in there as well. I know it doesn’t encompass everyone who has contributed to what has made The Studio a bearable place to live this Cycle, but it’s like the symbols of angels and imps that The Lost Ones have been drawing in various places. It is a sign of hope.”

“Like a family portrait?” Bendy wrote.

Henry’s smile grew a bit. “I guess you could say that.”

Now Bendy gazed at the portrait as well, as if already imagining their images on the canvas, and his grin widened considerably. But then it faltered a bit.

“What’s wrong?” Henry asked.

Bendy hesitated before he wrote, “Audrey has been thinking of her father, and she gets sad. She doesn’t think I notice, but I do. She makes the same sad face she did the last time we were here.” He hesitated another moment before continuing, crossed out what he had written, and tried again. “How could he be so mean to everyone, and then be so nice to Audrey?”

Henry stared at the question. He, of all people, felt like the person who knew the least about Joey Drew. The very name curdled his insides and made him want to hurl something. Joey Drew. The one who had started all the madness and made the lives, and arguably the afterlives, of so many souls torturous.

Joey Drew—who had used The Ink Machine to create his own daughter.

Daughters were something Henry only recollected anything about due to his implanted memories of the Henry Stein. He could still close his eyes and imagine the sweet smile of Angie.

Joey Drew hadn’t deserved a daughter like Audrey.

Audrey hadn’t deserved Joey Drew.

To Bendy, however, Henry knelt on one knee and laid a hand on the imp’s shoulder. “Maybe Audrey’s kindness was too powerful, even for someone like Joey.” It was the only thing he could think to say. After all, with Bendy and Inky alone, Audrey had worked miracles as far as Henry was concerned.

Honestly, she had worked miracles with Henry as well.

“Anyway, before we work on the larger canvas, we should create a sketch of what we’re going to put up there.” Henry grabbed a sketchpad from one corner of the coffee table. “For you.”

Bendy took the sketchpad with sparkling eyes.

Then Henry took him through a lesson on drawing, of all things, a self-portrait. There were examples of Bendy cutouts throughout The Studio, but something told him it was the first time Bendy himself had ever tried to draw his own shape with all the details. The imp struggled with the proportions and kept making his head a little too big.

“A bit smaller,” Henry advised him.

Bendy replied, however, “But Inky is in there too.”

“Inky will have his own depiction on the canvas.”

It was around this time that Allison and Tom poked their heads in around the door. Tom was carrying a phonograph larger and a bit fancier than the ones around the manor. “Sammy told us his band will record something special to play at the party,” Allison explained. “He wants to bring Susie to the Music Department for the song.” She looked down the hall. “He’s actually here to convince Susie to do exactly that.”

Henry set down his sketchpad and peered out the door, spotting Sammy leading Susie into the hallway.

“Yes, that’s right, Susie,” Sammy was saying. “All you need to do is take a short train trip with me, and we’ll go to the Music Department. Don’t you want to sing for me again?”

“Of course, I do, Sammy,” Susie said tremulously. “But I’m so… it’s so hideous out there.”

“It’s nicer with you at my side,” Sammy said.

“Ah, Sammy. You charmer.”

Henry, Allison, and Tom watched the pair walk off together.

The walls creaked. Henry held up his Seeing Tool, and Wandering had written, “Audrey is entering The Studio. She is on the first floor.”

“Thanks, Wandering,” Henry said. He looked at the sketches and the blank canvas, then told Bendy, “Time to go home. Audrey is here for you.”

The mention of Audrey was enough to make Bendy spring instantly to his feet, although then he pulled out his notebook, “But we are still working on Audrey’s present.”

“I know,” Henry said, it was why, when Audrey met them on the first floor, he asked if Bendy and Inky might come the next day as well. “The art lesson we’re working on will take a few days to complete, so I think it would be helpful if Bendy and Inky came on those occasions as well.”

Audrey had said yes—although Henry did catch traces of a thoughtful sadness in her eyes as, Bendy looking thrilled and holding her hand, the pair left through the duplicate Ink Machine. That expression stuck in Henry’s mind so much that, a short while later, he wrote a letter to Audrey as part of their usual exchanges to ask how her day had gone at work.

Then Audrey wrote back with the words, “Well, you see, I have been trying to arrange a surprise birthday party for Bendy and Inky…”

Returning to the manor a while later, he found Betty, Tom, and Allison catching up in the parlor over cups of coffee and tea, and he delivered some important news.

***

The next several days were a flurry of activity. Audrey, Bendy, and Inky would get up in the mornings, enjoy breakfast together, and walk with Marge and Andrew to Archgate Films, where Bendy and Inky would slip away into The Ink Machine.

From what Bendy and Inky had told her, the art project they were working on took a while to teach even in person, but they would return from their time in The Ink World looking so invigorated that Audrey wondered just how closed in they might have felt at the apartment. However, they would both be so eager to accompany her home as to soothe some of these fears.

Meanwhile, Audrey and Marge continued to go on trips to pick up additional supplies, which included a stop at a toyshop. Audrey had had time to think, and she made her gift selections carefully, both at the toyshop and at the bookstore run by Andrew’s uncle.

***

Audrey was going to be so happy, Bendy thought, as Henry guided him on resizing a sketched version of himself onto the larger canvas. He was one among several figures in the scene that was taking shape there, and Henry was a patient and warm teacher. And when Inky insisted on doing his own self-portrait, Bendy watched from a mirror brought into the room as Henry sought to help Inky along, while Betty did her best to calm the situation whenever Inky became too flustered over things like the size of the brushes and how long it took to get certain details just right.

Their gift was coming together, but Bendy longed to do more. Audrey had been so sad, and she had became especially distracted since he and Inky began going into The Ink Machine more often.

So, Bendy tugged on Betty’s arm at one point, pointed at the grand piano, and wrote, “I want to learn a song on the piano to play for Audrey.”

“You did such a good job playing ‘The Birthday Song’ the last time you were here,” Betty said. “I would suggest you play that, but we can practice another one.”

Bendy, who hadn’t realized what the name was of the first song Betty had shown him, grinned widely and wrote, “I’ll play two songs for her!”

Inky, meanwhile, muttered from his reflection in the mirror, “I have something better planned for her.”

***

The days moved along, as one event followed another, until at last came the morning designated by the cupcake design on the calendar. There was an unexpected suppression of excitement in the air as Audrey and Bendy made breakfast together, while Inky grumbled in impatience—and he even seemed relieved when Marge burst into the room with her usual excitement, albeit slightly toned down, followed by Andrew.

Audrey found the excitement was swirling through her as well. She wanted to say something, or at least give some indication of the celebration that was about to take place, but Marge had insisted the whole thing needed to come as an unexpected surprise.

“It’ll make all the difference, believe me,” Marge had said. “We’ll rush over to decorate your apartment during our lunch break, and after you pick them up after work, we’ll grab some takeout, go to your apartment together, and surprise them.”

They had picked up a chocolate ice cream cake, with several sweets, which Mr. Ferguson had been more than a little happy to conceal in his own refrigerator. “A surprise party for Benny?” he had said. “Why didn’t you say so?” Even though they just had.

The morning progressed as it had over the last several days, albeit with far more expectation, and their plans to rush over and decorate the apartment even went was expected. Audrey, Marge, and Andrew hung streamers around the apartment, put up a banner, and laid out one of the tablecloths Audrey had spotted with a star pattern. There were also presents to lay out on the table, wrapped in secret while Bendy and Inky were asleep.

What none of them had expected, however, was to find Bendy (in full disguise, of course) in Audrey’s office when they got back to the studio. Andrew nearly tumbled backwards over a chair when Inky popped up in the mirror near Audrey’s office door, and Marge simply looked stunned as Audrey asked, “Why are you here?” She patted Bendy between the horns.

“You need to come with us, Audrey,” Inky rasped, taking a moment to snigger at Andrew. “All of us are needed there right away.”

“Did something happen?” Audrey asked, keeping her fingers crossed that nothing might have gone wrong on this of all days. If something terrible had popped up in The Ink World, it could ruin their plans for throwing the surprise party for Bendy and Inky. It was an occasion they wouldn’t be able to get back in the same way.

“Stop asking questions. Just come on,” Inky grumbled, and Bendy took Audrey by the hand and tugged her along.

“Go with them,” Marge said. “Andrew and I will cover for you.” They both nodded to her, and Audrey mouthed a quiet “Thanks” as she followed Bendy down to the exhibition room. Bendy and Inky refused to say anything more than that they needed to head straight to Betty’s Manor. The nozzle of The Ink Machine twitched as they approached, as if eager to draw them inside.

In a rush of ink, they were in The Ink World.

The strange thing was that Bendy and Inky insisted on them talking the ink fountain to the subway, rather than straight into the manor, which only made Audrey worry a bit more as she hurried after them up the steps and past the inspections area to the now closed doors of the manor.

What could have happened here?

Why weren’t Bendy and Inky saying anything?

Why hadn’t Henry met them on the first floor?

Inky emerged from Bendy and bellowed “We are here!” as he flung open the doors. It was dim just inside, and Audrey hesitated for a moment on the threshold before all the lights flickered on to reveal a fully decorated foyer, where Henry, Betty, Tom, and Allison stood.

“Happy Birthday!” they cried out in a chorus.

Audrey gasped as cheers filled the air. “A surprise birthday party,” she murmured, staring at the splendor of it all in stunned amazement.

Inky huffed. “We prepare this party for days, and all you can do is stare and state the obvious.” He sounded gruff, but there was a certain smugness to it as well. “You get surprised too easily.”

“Happy Birthday!” came the chorus again, echoing throughout the room. “Happy Birthday, Audrey! Happy Birthday, Bendy! Happy Birthday, Inky!”

The last two choruses took Inky aback. “What?”

Henry stepped forward. “We’ve decided to celebrate your birthdays together,” he said, winking at Audrey, who smiled.

“You did this while Bendy and I were here?” Inky sounded bewildered, and somewhat grudgingly impressed at their slyness.

Betty used her fingers to cover up a chuckle. “It simply sounded like such a good idea,” she said, “and we were able to get extra elements ready in-between your visits. Oh yes, and are you ready on the present?” She turned towards where Allison and Tom had climbed the stairs to a frame on the wall covered by a cloth.

Allison and Tom each took a corner of the cloth and tugged it down.

The revealed picture seemed to gleam in the crystalline lights of the chandelier overhead, and through the tears misting Audrey’s vision. It depicted a vision of them standing together in Ink Harmony Park. Audrey was at the center, with Bendy and Inky drawn on either side of her, with Henry and Betty standing beside them on one side, and Tom and Allison standing on the other. There was a sun shown in the skies behind them in the scene, as if it were just rising.

“We made Audrey cry…” Inky growled lowly.

Audrey hugged him from the side. “These are happy tears.”

The others came in for a group hug, which was so overwhelming for Inky that he immediately gave way to Bendy.

Oh, the celebration that followed! The whole manor had been decorated for the occasion, and music filled the air from a phonograph Henry said that Sammy had provided, with a sweet song about tender autumn days that Betty put in had been sung by Susie Campbell. Bendy played the birthday song on the grand piano, followed by the theme song for most of the Bendy cartoons. The walls creaked as if following along, and Audrey knew that Wandering was adding their own music to the events.

There was multi-layered cake, of course, where the frosting showed all three of their names, which they enjoyed—although Audrey did have to remind Inky not to pounce on the cake when he emerged again.

Laughter echoed all around her, and even though Audrey reeled from all the excitement, she felt warm and happy as well. Because here she was surrounded by many of her closest friends and family members, and good times were the priority of the day. Then Henry set down a gift-wrapped box in front of her.

Audrey carefully opened it and found what looked like a set of visor-like glasses inside. As she examined them, Henry said, “Tom helped me to make these. Here, slip them on.”

She did, and across the walls, golden letters appeared.

“Happy Birthday, Audrey!” Wandering declared in huge golden letters.

“How did…?” Then a thought occurred to her. “You made these glasses out of the Seeing Tool?”

Henry smiled. “Yes, we did. I thought you might appreciate being able to see what Wandering has to say a bit more easily whenever you visit. And before you ask, we were able to make a few glasses from the Seeing Tool.” He reached into his back pocket, drew out a pair, and slipped them on. “See, now we match.”

“Whenever I visit,” Audrey murmured, feeling the happy swell inside her continue to build. “Oh, thank you!” She flung her arms around Henry in a tight hug. “Thank you so much!” Henry seemed shocked himself, but he soon returned the hug.

Betty also had a gift for them—crocheted bracelets with images of hearts, inkwells, brushes, and similar details. “I am quite fond of crocheting,” Betty admitted. “And the fabric should stretch to accommodate Inky as well.”

Inky immediately tested that theory and found that the bracelet remained in place.

Of course, Audrey did the same for Tom, Allison, Betty, and the others.

Then Allison called out, “All right, time to take a bit of a trip, everyone!” which was how they wound up traveling together as a group by train, all the way to the subway station. The crowds and cheers that rang out when they finally stepped into Lost City were deafening. There was joy and happiness everywhere. Lost Ones had hung banners on the buildings to commemorate the occasion, and it was like they were a miniature parade on their way to Ink Harmony Park.

The whole thing was like a dream to Audrey. A happy dream far removed from the bittersweet memories of celebrating her birthday as a child in the apartment, with just her and her father. “You are the biggest star in my life, and this is your special day,” she could hear echo in her mind, but such echoes got drowned out by things like stepping into The Tasty Pizza and having Inky nearly gulp down the entirety of one of Buddy’s largest pizzas. Thankfully, Buddy had many others prepared, and they had a wonderful pizza meal.

Audrey got to walk through Ink Harmony Park, where Lost Ones waved to her and enjoyed the day filled with sunshine. Porter and Heidi showed off the general store, Tom escorted them to his hardware store, Big Steve pointed out his police station, and they even got to walk around the construction site for the community theater. And on one of the walls that had gone up, Norman projected a few scenes of life in New York decades ago, all lighthearted, while Allison sang the song of hope for the future as she had when Ink Harmony Park first came into being.

As the sun began to sink in the sky, however, Audrey realized just how much time had passed, and she told her friends, “We need to get back home.”

Henry, remembering their earlier letter discussion, agreed. “I guess it is about time for you to head back. But remember, Audrey, you don’t need a special occasion to come here. You’re welcome anytime.” He handed her a bag, filled with birthday cards from Henry and the others.

“I know, and I’m glad about that,” Audrey said, accepting the bag. “We’ll visit again soon.”

“Here is where I come in,” Inky rasped, scooping Audrey up with one arm and helping her onto his back. “Let us take the scenic route back to the exit.” Then he took off at a run with Audrey clinging to his back. They heard their friends and The Lost Ones call out their best wishes as they headed up the steps towards the subway station, passed it, and continued on along all the winding hallways.

Audrey smiled as they went, thinking over the magical afternoon they had shared together in The Ink World, even while she worried about the festivities planned for back home. Compared to all the delights they had just been through, the party back at the apartment might seem so calm and tame. However, there wasn’t much time to ponder such things before they had burst through the hatchway back onto the first floor and had approached the duplicate Ink Machine. Through her special glasses, Audrey saw Wandering write on the walls, “Come back soon. We will miss you.”

Marge and Andrew met them in the exhibition room, although of course only with relief.

“We were beginning to worry you might stay in there all evening,” Marge remarked, winking at Audrey.

“We could have stayed,” Inky grumbled, then seemed to consider, “But it is quieter and less annoying at home.”

Audrey chuckled as she squeezed Bendy’s hand. “Come on, then. Let’s go.”

They walked as a group all the way to the apartment, and when Audrey opened the door and the delights within were revealed, Bendy and Inky were the ones who got taken aback by the vision before them.

“Happy Birthday, Bendy and Inky!” Audrey, Marge, and Andrew proclaimed.

Bendy whistled in delight, and Inky stared around at the decorations draped around his reflection in the mirror. They looked overjoyed by the setup, and Inky asked, “You were sneaky.” Again, the same grudging admiration was detectable in his voice.

A door down the hallway creaked open, and Mr. Ferguson emerged, carrying a box. “Oh, good, you’re home at last, Audrey. You made me wait for so long, I almost dropped off to sleep listening to my stories on the radio.” Marge and Andrew came forward to help him bring the box into the room, and Andrew pulled a chocolate cake from inside the box and set it on the table. Someone had written, “Happy Birthday, Bendy, Inky, and Audrey!”

Mr. Ferguson yawned and said, “Sorry for stopping in and leaving, but the radio story I was listening to just got to a good part.” He waved, “Happy Birthday, Audrey and Benny!” And then he turned and headed back to his apartment.

Audrey, however, was still gazing at the last name visible on the cake. She looked at her friends.

“You may have kept some secrets from us, Audrey,” Marge explained, “but we have picked up on a few things. Like the fact your birthday is today too, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is,” Audrey admitted. “I’ve just had conflicted memories about it lately.”

Andrew frowned. “How do you feel about this, then?” he asked, carefully.

“Oh, I love it! This day has been, well, the best birthday I can ever remember,” Audrey said, because it was true. Here she was, surrounded by loved ones, making happy memories and sharing them. Those past recollections still had the power to make her a bit sad, maybe they always would, but now she had other more tangible experiences from the same day.

Audrey came to Bendy as he examined one of the party hats and put on two of them—one to cover each small horn—which made everyone burst out laughing.

It was a pleasant but simple celebration. They had cake and ice cream, and then opened presents. Inky gazed at the stack of monster books approvingly, although then he groaned when Bendy pulled a set of bunny ears out of one box.

“You actually got him bunny ears,” Inky rasped.

Marge said, “When Audrey told me she wanted to get them, I suggested that she get another pair for you.” As Inky moaned, she went on, “But Audrey said you probably wouldn’t care for it. Andrew mentioned you might appreciate this poster instead.” She unfurled a poster on which were three monsters—Dracula, the Wolfman, and the Mummy.

Inky froze in wonder. “Who are they?” he asked.

“They’re horror monsters,” Audrey replied. "We thought you might—”

“I like them,” Inky declared.

Audrey smiled and handed Bendy another present. Inside was a fluffy, plush rabbit. Even wearing the bunny ears, the absolute joy on Bendy’s face was undeniable as he held up the toy rabbit, whistled, and hugged it close before he hugged her.

Marge and Andrew had also secretly gotten Audrey a few things as well, including another sketchbook, a whole box of colored pencils, and various paints. They even came bore a gift from Mr. Ferguson with a photo album accompanied by a polaroid camera. A small note typed to the cover read, “Make sure to snap some family photos and preserve as many memories as you can. You’ll thank yourself for it someday.”

Audrey could already feel the gratitude swelling up, and the first photograph they took was of her holding Bendy, standing beside the mirror. The polaroid photo came out, perhaps unsurprisingly, just showing her and Bendy—but Audrey silently vowed that he would use some of her new materials to draw Inky in the mirror of each photograph she took, and several other photographs did get taken late into the evening.

Eventually, the party wound down. Marge and Andrew helped to clean up the mess and wished Audrey, Bendy, and Inky a Happy Birthday one more time before they left. And in the aftermath of all the commotion, the three of them flopped down on the living room couch.

Bendy, still hugging his toy rabbit tightly, wrote in his notebook, “This was the best birthday party I’ve ever had.”

“It is the only birthday party you have ever had,” Inky grumbled with a snort. However, he did add, “I found it was… good.”

“I’m glad to hear that, and I feel the same way,” Audrey said. “It’s funny how things can work out sometimes, and we have so many people looking out for us now as well. I’m still getting used to that.”

“I still feel there are too many of them,” Inky huffed. “They were overwhelming us in our realm.”

“To be honest, though, I did get a bit worried,” Audrey admitted. “I thought that maybe you might have preferred it in The Ink World, since this apartment could be a bit… constrictive for you.”

Bendy wrote, “It is not constrictive, Audrey. It is fun. We are here with you, and we go places together.”

Inky snorted. “This place is quiet and comfortable,” he rasped. “I can read here without getting disturbed.”

Audrey hugged Bendy, and by extension Inky, and whispered, “You two are the best.”

They fell asleep on the couch together, with happy memories of the day swirling through their thoughts.

***

Back at the manor, Henry was helping the others to clean up after the party.

“Oh, that was a most lovely occasion,” Betty gushed. “I do believe Audrey, Bendy, and Inky enjoyed themselves to the fullest, and it was wonderful to have such liveliness throughout the manor. It is what I have always dreamed would happen.”

Henry smiled as he cleared the plates from the dining room table. “Bendy and Inky came here to help put together a birthday party for Audrey, but apparently Audrey and some of their friends outside The Ink Machine were putting together a birthday party for Bendy and Inky as well. It was quite a coincidence.”

“Everything worked out just fine,” Allison said. She was helping Tom to take down the streamers hung around the room. “Everyone in Ink Harmony Park and Lost City was very excited as well.”

“It sure did. Hmm?” Henry had spotted a card on the floor. A birthday card that had somehow gotten lost and failed to get taken along with the others back to The Real World with Audrey. There was a picture of a cupcake with a lit candle on the front. Curious, Henry picked it up, opened it, and paused.

The cheerful conversation in the room around him seemed to fade into the background, and the world seemed to tremble as he stared at the message inside.

“To the brightest star in my life on your special day,” Henry murmured. “Love, J.D.”

Chapter Text

Nathan Arch, CEO of Archgate Films, returned to the studio with his usual flair. That is, he turned up without much fanfare or preamble after several months spent conducting business elsewhere and—as Andrew had once related in passing—traveling alongside his wife Tessa to the west coast. Given how far-reaching his influences were as an oil and steel tycoon, Audrey had imagined he would return to New York after having explored some new venture and be in even better financial shape than before.

Being so wealthy, and having had his fingers in numerous industries, it would have been easy for Audrey’s boss to become a heartless and cruel man. Instead, heads turned in pleasant surprise throughout the animation department when Mrs. Fern exclaimed, “Mr. Arch, sir, you’re back!”

“Please don’t get up on my account, Delilah,” they heard Nathan Arch reply, chuckling heartily. “I’m just here to check on the troops, you know, and see how everything is faring. Don’t want them to think I don’t care, after all.”

“Oh, I’m sure they would never—”

“How’s the family, Harvey?”

“They’re doing well, sir!” Audrey could practically hear the security guard saluting. She got up from her desk and approached the front lobby to catch a glimpse of the proceedings—only to find that Marge and Andrew had had the same idea. They crowded around the doorframe and peered into the lobby, where Nathan Arch stood at the reception desk.

He was somewhat older than his depiction in the portrait near the elevator, with streaks of gray in his hair, but he had the same twinkle in his eye and boundless confidence. He was also, Audrey realized with a guilty start, observant enough to spy them even while busy complimenting Mrs. Fern on her exemplary work in his absence.

“Ah, here are some of my best troops now.” Nathan Arch turned. “Audrey, Andrew, Marge—come on over here and let me get a good look at the future of Archgate Films.” When they obliged, he rubbed his chin in wonder. “Did you get younger while I was gone, or did I just get older?”

Yep, that was their boss. A healthful, booming personality.

So much had happened while he was gone. Audrey had traveled into The Ink Machine, she had met Bendy and Inky, and they had become a family. It was surreal to think about.

“Oh, that’s right. Andrew, I got your message about making a full-length movie,” Nathan Arch’s face was firm but aglow with warmth.

Andrew, singled out, stiffened just like Harvey the security guard must have done. Maybe it was some power that Nathan Arch had managed to retain from his service days as a colonel. Audrey could have only guessed. Regardless, Andrew stammered out, “Y-you did?”

“I sure did, and I’ve been giving it a lot of thought,” Nathan Arch said. “Why don’t you come on back to my office, and we’ll discuss it?”

Andrew looked like he had just been given a special reward. Marge barely suppressed a chuckle at his obvious excitement.

Everything was going great, and it occurred to Audrey that she had never told Bendy and Inky much about her boss. The greatest boss, in her opinion, anywhere in the world.

Then things took a sudden turn. Her glance drifted over to the front glass doors, where Audrey could see Nathan Arch’s car, a humble Oldsmobile, parked against the curb. There came a clanking sputter, however, as a stomach-churningly familiar truck pulled in behind it, and the tall old gentleman slipped out. His face was hard and set.

No, no, no, Audrey wanted to shout. They hadn’t seen him in all this time. Why did he have to show up right now, at such a joyful moment?

The shocked terror on her face must have shown. Nathan Arch’s brow furrowed, and he asked, “Audrey, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. What has gotten you so—” He turned, following her line of sight, and trailed off as the old gentleman entered the studio.

***

Meanwhile, in another studio, The Studio, Henry stood in the front room of the first floor wearing his Seeing Tool glasses. His face was also hard and set, and he spoke in an ominously level tone, “What do mean you only ‘kind of know’ about Joey Drew?” He waved the birthday card found at the manor, where the glitter around the cupcake on the cover with a candle still appeared to sparkle. “How could you not know if the man who has caused so many nightmares for everyone is still around?”

Golden ink popped up across the walls in rapid succession, and Henry could practically hear the chorus of voices echoing through the walls among the creaks and clanking pipes, “We are sorry. We are so, so sorry, Henry,” Wandering must have been wailing. “We have sensed someone at times. Someone who slips around this world and terrifies us. Someone who was not Wilson or the Keepers. Someone who was here in this room and wrote a letter.”

The opened mailbox…

It was closed now, but Henry made a point of checking inside just to make sure there were no more unexpected surprises.

Joey Drew could have been here in this very room, while Henry and the others were elsewhere. He could have been slipping around unknown and unobserved all this time, watching them. But, when it came to the mailbox, what really ignited a renewed flare of anger within him was the thought of Joey sending messages off to Audrey, Bendy, or Inky. Trying to mess with or interfere in their lives.

Wandering wrote, “We promise that we would have told you, if we had remembered.”

“If you had remembered?” Henry perked up at this idea.

“We keep forgetting!” The walls around him made heaving, crackling noises. “We realize someone is moving about, we become startled, and then he… slips our minds. We cannot explain it. Please do not be angry. Do not be angry with us.” The walls continued to crackle, and the pipes made low moaning groans, and the darkness started to gather in the corners as it had on the day when Henry and Allison had questioned Wandering about the Gent experiments.

Henry realized then how dark and furious his own expression must have been, and he did his best to stamp down his fury as he said, “I’m not angry with you, Wandering. Please,” he laid his hand on one of the walls consolingly. “I’m not angry with you at all. I’m angry at Joey, and I want to figure out what’s going on so we can keep everybody safe, okay? Take a moment and calm down.”

The golden words disappeared from the walls. Gloved fingers appeared to wrap about his hand. A figure stepped into view.

Wandering.

They resembled Bendy so much that it was a little unnerving, given their glowing red eyes with pinprick pupils. Henry had the distinct impression that unlike Bendy, who could frown or enjoy other expressions, the smile on Wandering remained frozen in place all the time they took this form. A makeshift bandage wound about their arm, but Henry could see the ink leaking through, just as it was leaking from the bottom rims of their eyes like tears.

Wandering had never manifested in this form for Henry in this way, aside from the brief flicker of it when he had helped to restore Norman’s memories. And there was something strange and almost insubstantial about the way their hand felt in his own.

Of course, that wasn’t the important thing right now.

What mattered was helping Wandering to settle down.

Henry pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, knelt on the floor, and wiped at the inky tears. “I’m a little surprised you haven’t popped out of the wall during our past conversations.”

“We cannot stay in this form for very long. It is tiring,” Wandering said, their combined voice seeming to reverberate through the atmosphere. They sniffled. “We wanted you to see that we are speaking the truth. About forgetting.”

“Listen, Wandering, I believe you,” Henry stressed. “I know you have always tried to be as open and honest with me as you can. But I just want to understand how you could forget. And actually,” he paused, “if you have forgotten someone like Joey moving around, how can you remember now?”

Wandering tapped the birthday card with one finger. “That card, your mention of Joey Drew, brought those memories to the surface again. The memories make us ache all over.”

“If this is too painful…”

“No, we want to help,” Wandering said. “We were unable to help very much against Sammy and Alice Angel. We were too scared and worn, but we have been a little warmer since then. We can bear it.”

Henry sighed, noticing ink dripping from Wandering’s other arm and shoulder. “Come on,” he led Wandering over to a table and lifted them up onto its edge. There were bits of cloth here and there throughout the front room, and Henry was great when it came to makeshift bandages. He could only guess the one already on Wandering’s arm had come from Audrey, from when she had encountered them. Now he reinforced the spot and saw to the other leaks.

“There is something about the someone we forget,” Wandering said as Henry tightened one of the bandages. “About Joey. His presence keeps shifting. Like he is not fully in this world. Like he is always just on the periphery of everything.”

Henry grunted. “From what I can recall, Joey Drew tended to live in his own world, albeit in a metaphorical sense. Given that he was the one who created The Studio in the first place, I can believe he did something to make things difficult for anyone to find him here, including you.”

“He is the one who told Bendy about Audrey’s birthday. That was the letter.”

Frowning, Henry tightened another bandage. The birthday celebrations for Audrey, Bendy, and Inky had been a grand affair for everyone in The Studio, and it was still a big topic of discussion for The Lost Ones, who already appeared eager to plan for what to do during the birthday celebrations next year.

“Do you have any way of telling where Joey Drew is now?” Henry asked, checking over his work. The leaks appeared to be under control for the time being.

Wandering closed their eyes. “We can try. We can try very, very hard.” As they sat there, the walls in the front room creaked, and the ink in the pipes clanked and groaned, and the floor seemed to shudder. As Wandering strained themselves, a golden gleam shining along the rims of their closed lids, there came the sudden snapping of wood from the hall off the front room.

Several boards from the hallway ceiling had splintered, and ink was dripping down. There came a spurting sound as Wandering sprang a leak on their other shoulder, and they winced.

“That’s all right, Wandering. You can stop now,” Henry said hurriedly, alarmed by the splintering sounds that continued overhead and around them. He used his handkerchief on the shoulder and heard little whistling gurgles coming from elsewhere within Wandering’s form. He recognized the sounds of intense ink pressure—the kind of pressure that could blow things apart.

It was a good thing Norman was over in Ink Harmony Park, some small part of Henry’s brain murmured amid all the chaos. At least Wandering and him were the only ones on this floor as portions of it broke apart.

“Wandering, you can stop,” Henry repeated.

“No, we are trying hard,” Wandering persisted. “We will do our part.” The splintering sounds were getting louder. Cracks were forming across the ceiling of the front room, streaking towards them. “Almost… there.”

“You are already doing your part,” Henry said, gently shaking Wandering by the shoulders. “Thanks to you, we’ve accomplished some incredible things. Stop! You’re hurting yourself!”

“We will endure. We cannot help but endure, and we will help to protect this world!”

The ceiling cracked overhead. Henry saw the wood break apart, grabbed Wandering, and flowed out of the way as ink, metal, and wood came crashing down right on the table where they had been moments before. A portion of the devastated table got hurled sideways, smacking right into the mailbox, which sent it toppling over with a sharp clang.

This sudden jolt and cacophony seemed to rattle Wandering out of whatever they had been doing. They grew quiet, and so did the surroundings—aside from the dripping of ink into the room. It reminded Henry of how the place had been during the previous Cycles. He sat there, panting.

Wandering opened their eyes, staring at the state of the room, and hung their head. “We made things worse. We ruined it. We are sorry.” They looked ready to retreat into the wall to escape the shame of it all, but Henry laid a hand on their shoulder.

“You haven’t ruined anything. I’m just glad you’re okay,” Henry said. “Look, Wandering, you are a good friend and an invaluable member of our team. Don’t you remember helping us with Norman, or relaying information to us for Alice Angel and Sammy?”

Wandering wrung their hands, then nodded.

“But you need to take care of yourself, all right?”

“We will endure, regardless of what happens.”

Henry sighed. “You have needed to put up with a lot, and I understand that. However, you need to learn—”

“We know where Joey Drew is right now, Henry,” Wandering interjected.

***

There was a sudden tense silence in the lobby of Archgate Films when the old gentleman entered. Indignance flashed across Mrs. Fern’s face, and she pointed a manicured finger, “That’s the stalker I was telling you about on the phone, Mr. Arch.” She glared at the man. “You have some nerve stepping foot in here.”

Harvey was already hitching up his belt, ready to escort this unsavory character back out onto the street, but Nathan Arch held up a hand. That single gesture was powerful enough to make everyone fall into silence. It was a sign everyone recognized—Nathan Arch was taking control of the situation. He did give Audrey a brief glance, however, before he turned back to their unwelcomed visitor.

“It’s been a long time, Mr. Connor,” Nathan Arch said, and there was an odd undercurrent to his jollity now. Audrey took a moment to recognize it as a well-concealed tone of warning. “I have to say it surprises me to learn you are the one who frightened members of my staff. You never seemed to be that sort of person.”

Mr. Connor.

Audrey heard Marge gasp beside her, and Andrew gritted his teeth.

So, she had been right. The old gentleman who they had met in the museum, and the same one who had pursued Audrey, Bendy, and Inky to the studio, was Thomas Connor.

Nathan Arch seemed to be waiting for an explanation from him about frightening employees, but Mr. Connor seemed less than forthcoming about it. Instead, Mr. Connor began, “About our conversation on the phone—"

He went quiet when Nathan Arch held up a hand again. The commanding hand of authority apparently worked just as well against people who didn’t work at the studio. “I told your boss my response over the phone, and I don’t appreciate him sending you here to try and sway me, so I’d ask you to please catch me at another time. It’s business hours.”

With that, Nathan Arch turned to go, gesturing for Andrew to follow him, and a shudder of desperation crept across the old workman’s face. “Mr. Arch, I need to speak with you,” his gravelly voice quavered as he clearly sought for something to get the powerful personage to hear him out. “I… I know what happened to your son.”

That declaration made Nathan Arch pause. Audrey couldn’t see his face, but he stood there for what seemed an excruciatingly long time before heaving a deep sigh. “All right, Tom,” he murmured, “for the sake of my past acquaintanceship with you and your wife, I’ll give you a moment or two in my office.” Then he turned to Andrew. “Pardon me, but we’ll need to talk a bit later.”

“No problem,” Andrew replied.

Nathan Arch gave him a small smile as if in thanks for his understanding, and he nodded to Marge and Audrey as he gestured for Mr. Connor to follow him down a hallway towards his office. Mr. Connor did so, although he gave Audrey a long, hard look on the way past that sent chills down her spine. She felt frozen to the spot and might have stood there awkwardly for several more minutes if Marge and Andrew hadn’t tugged her back towards the animation department.

Of course, it hadn’t been just the intimidating look by Mr. Connor that had made her freeze up. It was the fact that he was here in the first place, and that now he was going to discuss Wilson and other things, likely business matters from Gent, with her boss.

What if Mr. Connor knew about Audrey’s origins?

Were Bendy, Inky, and her in danger?

“Don’t worry so much, Audrey,” Marge tried to console her, back in her office. “You heard Mr. Arch. Gent already tried to contact him before, and he turned down whatever they wanted him to do. He wouldn’t let a creep like Thomas Connor change his mind.”

“I feel ridiculous now, honestly,” Andrew muttered. “I’d managed to see an old photo or two of Thomas Connor, and I should have recognized him when we saw him in the museum. But he just looked so much older than I’d expected. Worn down by the world.”

Marge sighed. “Life can do that to you. At least, that’s what my father has told me.”

“I wondered if it was Thomas Connor who had chased us that day,” Audrey murmured, “but I couldn’t say for sure. He worked with my father to create The Ink Machine, and Joey was such a good friend of Mr. Arch, he put together the whole exhibition for him.”

There was a pause. “Wait a minute, Audrey,” Marge said. “You’re not saying our boss was somehow involved with what Joey Drew did with Gent, are you?”

“I don’t know,” Audrey murmured, shaking her head. “I really don’t know.”

Marge and Andrew patted her on either shoulder.

“Joey Drew is long gone,” Andrew said, “and Nathan Arch is a good man. Things will work out. You’ll see.”

***

By the time Henry reached the safehouse, Wandering had forgotten why they had been so upset and torn apart the first floor. The whole issue of Joey Drew had slipped their minds, and all they could recall was the guilt of causing the damage, which Henry had needed to assure them was an easily fixable accident.

Now Wandering was back in the walls, albeit so exhausted by the whole experience of taking on the other form as to not even interact through the golden ink messages. Henry accepted it as a blessing. After all, he didn’t want to distress Wandering even more with what he was going to do next. He took off the Seeing Tool glasses and slipped them into his pocket.

The safehouse was empty, thank goodness, and Henry went to a chest in one corner. He retrieved a wrench from it, sturdy and hard.

Henry took a deep breath, released it, and headed for the safehouse door.

It opened.

Allison stood there holding a bag of what appeared to be assorted tools and gadgets. She looked reasonably shocked to find Henry on his way out, holding the wrench and with such a serious air about him. “All right, Henry, what’s going on?” she said, carefully setting the bag off to one side but refusing to step away from the doorway.

Henry knew better than to deny anything was wrong. He fished the birthday card out of his pocket and handed it over to Allison. “Someone left this greeting at the manor during our celebrations, and I just had a conversation with Wandering that confirmed it.”

Allison gasped at the message and the initials at the bottom. “J.D.” she murmured, incredulous. “You don’t seriously mean that this whole time…?”

He nodded. “Yes, Joey Drew is still out there. Or, well, here in The Studio, and now I know where to find him.”

Allison glanced down at the wrench. “And what are you going to do once you see him?”

“Whatever I need to do. But I want to be ready for anything.”

A tense pause followed, which went on for so long Henry began to worry Allison would refuse to let him pass altogether. Instead, she said, “Hold on a minute, then. I’m going to take a Gent pipe along in addition to my sword. Just in case.”

***

About half an hour after Nathan Arch had invited him into his office, Thomas Connor stalked out. Audrey had barely gotten any work done in the meantime and had listened for his heavy footfalls. She got up from her desk again and crept to the entrance to the animation department, just in time to watch him storm past the front door and get into his truck.

“Good riddance,” Mrs. Fern said with a sniff as the truck departed.

Audrey stood there and breathed a deep sigh of relief. Thank goodness, she thought.

Then Nathan Arch called from down the hallway. “Ah, Audrey, just the animator I needed to see. Come on back to my office for a moment, all right? We need to talk.” Without explaining further, he turned and went back into his office.

Audrey glanced at Marge and Andrew, and then took a deep breath before she obeyed.

The office of Nathan Arch was small, considering his status as the CEO. There were a couple of filing cabinets to hold an array of documents along one wall, and shelves that held any number of books related to business and similar matters. Plaques that commended the workplace excellence of Archgate Films and its animation prowess occupied another wall, under a sign that read, “Our Achievements.”

His desk was the most extravagant piece of furniture in the room, with well-organized bins that held folders and ledgers. A nameplate announced him as “Retired Colonel Nathan Arch, CEO of Archgate Films,” and near it stood two framed photographs. One of them depicted a woman, his wife Tessa, who, now that Audrey really took a moment to study it, bore a marked resemblance to Betty—who had mentioned she apparently looked like Wilson’s mother.

The other photograph showed a young boy, dimple-cheeked and grinning. Audrey knew it was supposed to be Wilson, but the innocuous image there was so far removed from the twisted man he had become, she had trouble believing one had led to the other.

Just like her father.

“Take a seat, Audrey,” Mr. Arch said, gesturing to one of the cushioned chairs opposite the desk. “Make yourself comfortable.”

He sounded amiable enough, and the amiability that shone in his expression gave no indication of having been darkened by whatever Thomas Connor had told him. Even so, Audrey sunk onto a chair with a heavy heart, ready for anything.

“First of all, Audrey,” Mr. Arch said. “How are things going for you?”

“Oh, well, hmm…” Audrey found she was nervous, although she had never needed to be nervous around her boss before. Probably because of what questions could be coming next if she answered wrong somehow. “Well, I have been doing great, and the animations have moved along well, and…”

What was she doing? A part of her mind screamed. If Mr. Arch were suspicious at all, her behavior would have given her away.

Instead, Mr. Arch simply chuckled. “That’s wonderful to hear, and it seems you’ve gotten closer with your fellow troops. I was a bit worried about you.”

This statement startled Audrey a bit. She blinked. “You were worried?”

“Sure, I was. You are a star employee and animator, Audrey. So good, in fact, that you hold the record for the number of Employee of the Month awards at Archgate Films. But don’t think I haven’t noticed how isolated you were. As far as I could tell, you spent your days and most of your nights working here alone.”

Had she really been that isolated? Audrey mused on it for a moment, once again thinking of how much her life had changed over the past couple of months. She hadn’t even considered what other people thought about her former routine, and what they had made of her as a result—although Marge and Andrew’s hints related to not really speaking much to her until recently had given her some indication.

She sighed, and Mr. Arch misinterpreted. “Now don’t get me wrong, Audrey. I appreciate your strong work ethic and dedication to the animation craft. You and my other troops are a true inspiration. You are “dreamers” as well as “doers.” It can be more difficult than you might realize to find people who are both of those things at once, but they often go well together and can really drive an organization or business along.” Then he paused. “Where was I going with this? Tessa does tell me I tend to ramble more nowadays. Age and wanting to share a wealth of experiences will do that to you.”

He looked at her expectantly, and Audrey said, “You were talking about me working on my own so much.”

“Ah, yes! That’s right,” Mr. Arch declared. “I was going to say I’m proud you’re making friends. The relationships you build with others are an important part of life, and they become even more important over time.” Here, he leaned forward a bit. “Which is why I’ve been planning to call you into my office even before taking off for my trip, since I imagine you’ve been getting impatient to speak with me on some important matters.”

There was that expectant look again, but Audrey was at a complete loss as to what her boss was talking about. Then, of course, her earlier suspicions about him crept to mind—that perhaps Mr. Arch had known about her background the whole time. He could know what Audrey was, and what her father had gotten up to with Gent.

“Hmm. What do you mean, sir?” Audrey asked, testing the waters.

Mr. Arch straightened in his chair. “Why, I’m talking about the exhibition dedicated to your father down in the exhibition hall, of course!”

***

Henry and Allison made their way through the sewers with great care. The remains of Sammy’s congregation had fled to this area, and according to Allison, many of them had joined the ranks of a group of Lost Ones who hung around there and followed a leader known as, “Lord Amok.” Thankfully, however, this Lord Amok and his forces seemed quite glad to stay where they were but could get violent towards intruders into what they considered their territory.

Having Allison as a guide proved to be invaluable on this front. She helped Henry past more than one patrol of mohawked Lost Ones as they moved towards their destination, where Wandering had told Henry that Joey Drew had his stronghold.

Incredulity kept swirling alongside fury and frustration within him. After all this time, Joey Drew was still making himself known, just as Henry and the others had thought they were rid of him forever. Henry had begun to accept that the terrible man who had brought The Studio into existence and trapped him and others in The Cycle for countless loops would never darken their lives again—and that the biggest threat to their newfound hope and happiness was Gent.

But if Joey were here, he could very well be planning something in coordination with Gent somehow. He wouldn’t put anything past him, and Henry would put an end to whatever plans Joey might have to harm his friends and The Studio by any means necessary.

They passed through a tunnel and climbed a ladder up to a catwalk where, in plain sight, was a rather plan-looking door. They could hear phonograph music playing on the other side of it, but the tune wasn’t something from one of the old Bendy cartoons or anything. It sounded familiar, though. Like something out of Henry’s implanted memories.

A woman’s voice sang, “We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when. But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day…”

As they approached the door, Henry took a deep breath to compose himself, and Allison gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. He would have burst in through the door to at least achieve the element of surprise, only to get surprised himself as the door creaked open.

The music faded away.

And there, standing in the doorway, was Joey Drew.

***

“The exhibition,” Audrey murmured, feeling thrown by something so seemingly mundane as the exhibit set up as a tribute to her father, and Mr. Arch nodded.

“Of course,” her boss said. “I set up that exhibit to celebrate the achievements of my old friend Joey Drew, and the way he and those who worked for him at Joey Drew Studios inspired so many folks to dream and press onwards in the field of animation. You have quite the legacy to be proud of, Audrey.”

Somehow, hearing him say that was almost a huge relief, since the fact he was focusing on Joey Drew’s career working in animation suggested Mr. Arch didn’t know about the much darker aspects of his life. Even so, here was someone who had called her father an old friend, or who had possibly at least seen something in him closer to what Audrey had always remembered from her childhood memories.

“How well did you know my father?” Audrey asked, curious.

Mr. Arch leaned back in his chair, a nostalgic expression on his face as he recalled, “We were in the Signal Corps together during the First World War, back when I was officially a corporal.” He smiled. “I remember him as a dependable member of the troops under my care, and one of many who I tried to keep in touch with long after the war was over. The conflict tied us together, I guess you could say, as everyone did their best to create new lives in peacetime. We each took our own paths, him in animation, and me in oil and steel, with occasional letters passed back and forth.”

He chuckled, but then his happiness faltered somewhat. “it was a sad day for me when I heard his studio had fallen on hard times. He did write to me for help, and I was more than happy to send him some funding, but the studio still went under.” He shook his head. “I can still remember tearing up about that, even though I’d come to accept that even the best of businesses could go bankrupt. I always blamed the Gent Corporation for the downfall of Joey Drew Studios, to tell the truth. He got involved with them, and things just got worse from there, it seems.”

Audrey carefully listened to the history, sadness swelling within her at just how much Mr. Arch didn’t know. He had genuinely thought a great deal about Joey Drew and continued to admire him even years later.

“That’s why when I needed something new in my life, and my son suggested movies,” his gaze flicked for a moment to the framed photograph of Wilson, “I realized a way to pay tribute to my old friend’s legacy and make it live on for future generations. So, I opened Archgate Films, and imagine my surprise when Joey Drew sent me a letter to say he had a daughter. That Joey, full of surprises.”

A lot of surprises, and nightmares as well, Audrey thought.

“He asked me to hire you when you showed up, as a favor, and of course I was happy to accept,” Mr. Arch went on. “But don’t think I played favorites, Audrey. I saw your talents, and you’ve proven yourself to be an impressive animator. However, your father did make a few other requests in his letter, and—” He sighed, and opened a desk drawer. He pulled out an enveloped crammed with paperwork. “And in his will.”

***

For a long moment, Henry could only stare at the figure in front of him like a ghoulish specter. Allison crouched into an instinctive battle position, and Henry felt his own grip tighten on the wrench, which seemed to quiver in his hold as if sensing all the anger inside him.

“Joey,” Henry muttered.

“Yes, the one and only Joey Drew of Joey Drew Studios.” Joey Drew didn’t appear angry. He was sagging a bit, a little like someone had cut his strings, but he still had the audacity to offer a weak smile. “I know… I know… you have questions. You always do.”

Those words. In his mind’s eye, Henry remembered a certain point at the beginning, or perhaps it was very end, of his every journey through the Cycle. Every time when after “The End” had played on a projector, and The Ink Demon had dissolved, and he had found himself magically transported into an apartment. An apartment that showed various details that revealed its owner to be a single, old bachelor involved in the animation business at some point, but who had fallen deeply into debt.

He seemed to relive walking into the kitchen of the apartment, watching a wrinkly old man in a housecoat turn to face him at a kitchen counter, and then reprimand him for not pushing him hard enough—before sending him right back into The Studio to begin the Cycle all over again.

Often making him forget what had come before he had stepped through the door.

Letting him go through the torturous tale without any warning.

That whole moment, Henry realized, had been embedded into his head by Joey Drew to torture him in another way. To criticize Henry right before his torture continued.

Henry swung at the figure in front of him, the one standing at the doorway in the sewers. Allison let out a gasp beside him, but it wasn’t because he had attacked with the wrench. No. Instead, he had delivered the hardest punch he could right to Joey Drew’s face. The architect of nightmares went stumbling backwards, latching onto a sink off to his right to help him remain standing. It was a small room. Opposite the sink was a bed tucked into a nook, with a few shelves, and an ajar door beyond. In other words, it was a narrow space without much room in which to move around unless he retreated to the other room.

“I suppose I deserved that,” Joey Drew said, massaging his chin. He creaked upright.

Henry glared at him. Now that he was in front of this horrible person, words had deserted him. He felt the urge to punch him again, and again, and again. It was incredible, the way rage flared within him so easily, as if it had finally been allowed to be released after all this time. As if it had only been waiting for the opportunity to get directed against his oppressor.

And, of course, Joey Drew was the one to lead the conversation. He tried for a smile again, although it faltered at seeing the look on Henry’s face. “I knew it was only a matter of time before you came across me here, old friend.”

“We are not old friends,” Henry snapped at him. “We were never old friends. I am not the old business partner who, justifiably, walked out on you so long ago. I am just someone you created to torture the same way you’ve tortured so many other souls.”

Joey sighed. “I remember you always did have a way of presenting hard truths, Henry, even when I didn’t want to hear them.” He rubbed the back of his neck, and then met his glance. “And now, you are here to finish things with me, as I knew would happen one of these days. All right, then,” he stood as straight and tall as he possibly could.

“What do you mean by that?” Henry could feel his anger threatening to boil over.

“But first, how is Audrey?” Joey asked. “Did my daughter have a good birthday?”

***

Audrey gently opened the envelope that Mr. Arch had handed her. There was indeed a letter inside, written in the cursive hand of what had clearly been a sickly man, where her father had asked that she get taken on as an employee at Archgate Films. “She is the true star of my life,” Joey Drew had written. “I think my life would have been much different if she had been around earlier. She has shown me something that years of dreaming alone could never do. So, I want her to be taken care of for the future, and her inheritance.”

He went onto request in both his letter and his will that Mr. Arch pass along certain items from his estate onto Audrey, and to keep them from falling into the hands of the Gent Corporation, who might seek to claim them as a part of their contract deal in the past. One of those things had been a sketch book, more than likely the sketch book Audrey had been using for months now to affect The Ink World and communicate with Henry.

Another one was The Ink Machine.

“Mr. Connor came in here to try and enforce the contract deal that your father made with the Gent Corporation, claiming one of the items specifically mentioned in these documents and that I had purchased,” Mr. Arch explained. “Apparently, Gent states the item is their property, but I have contested their charge, and the courts have backed me up.” His smile turned particularly smug on this point.

“Anyway,” he went on, “once you are ready for them, all the items outlined in these documents will be yours.”

Audrey was speechless. It meant The Ink Machine was officially hers. Or, more specifically, that it belonged to her and the other residents of The Ink World. She would never need to worry about Mr. Arch passing it onto someone else or to another place, because he was helping to keep it safe for her.

Regardless of his other actions, it seemed Joey Drew had gotten something right.

***

“Don’t bring Audrey into this, Joey,” Henry said. “Why are you here? What are you up to?”

Joey sighed. “If I were you, I would have reacted the same way, and you have every right to be furious with me right now.” He held up his hands as if trying to ward off another punch. “But I need to warn you. There are still threats out there in the world outside The Ink Machine. Dangerous threats to Audrey and everyone else.”

“Gent, you mean. We know, unless you and Gent have another trick up your sleeves that we wouldn’t know about.” He stepped forward, and Joey retreated a step.

“Oh no, it’s Gent, all right,” Joey said, and then he took another step back before Henry’s advance. “Henry, please, set aside whatever grudges you have against me for the moment and listen—”

“I am done listening to you.”

“You know, old friend, I envy you.”

Henry raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“This world got inspired by a desire to torment Henry Stein, the former business partner who left to enjoy a family, and who I am sure has had many fine years doing just that. But look at you. Even as someone meant as a copy of Henry, in a realm where everything got stacked against you, you have thrived. You have friends to stand behind you,” he nodded to Allison, silent and watchful, “you have a nice city and park where everyone welcomes you, and even my daughter thinks highly of you. She probably sees you more like the father she could never have in me.”

Was Joey Drew trying to make Henry feel bad for him? It wasn’t working. Henry knew about his showmanship and tricks. It wouldn’t work. He would never do anything for Joey Drew ever again.

Then Joey Drew stood before the ajar door and puffed out his chest slightly. “Well, then I guess I’ve said all that I can say,” he said, “so now you will finish things with me.” He nodded to the wrench that Henry was still gripping. “Very well. I’m ready.”

The reality of what he was suggesting made the world quake around Henry. Allison looked horrified, and Henry said, “You are not seriously suggesting you want me to—”

“You came armed, and you have every right to use it now,” Joey Drew said. “I have led a terrible life, Henry. I am a devious sort who led many, many souls to their demise for the sake of my dreams and through my involvement with Gent. There is no repentance for someone of my ilk. And when you get rid of me, you will have officially gotten rid of all that remains of me and can rest easy that I will never come back. You will be banishing the true demon of The Studio.”

“You are crazy, Joey,” Henry growled and took another step closer. “I would never give you the satisfaction of making me—” Joey stepped back and bumped against the ajar door. It creaked open a bit further.

Allison touched him on the shoulder. “Henry,” she gently said, “take a look at that.” She pointed past Joey.

An eerily distinctive shape was just visible past the opening, surrounded by candles.

***

“Thank you, sir,” Audrey said, giving Mr. Arch back the documents for safekeeping. “That means a lot to me.”

Mr. Arch smiled. “I’m simply passing along what rightfully belongs to someone else, and I do my part in taking care of my troops.” He gave her a mock salute, “You are dismissed, my dear young animator. Please send Andrew back here to me, will you?”

“Of course, sir!” Filled with cheer, Audrey gave him a mock salute and left the office. The meeting with Mr. Arch had gone even better than expected. Not only did it appear that the secret of her origins was still safe, but now The Ink Machine was secure as well, and Gent couldn’t take it away from them.

What a wonderful day.

***

Henry charged forwards, flinging open the door, and effectively sending Joey toppling backwards onto the ground—right in front of a narrow tombstone with the words “Joey Drew” engraved on the surface and a set of dates right below it.

He slipped on the Seeing Tool glasses and saw the markings on the figure sitting on the floor. There appeared to be golden horns affixed to his head.

Henry sighed. “I should have known,” he muttered. Of course, he should have known. Rage had just messed with his reasoning, and he felt a great deal of his anger ebb away—although there was still a noticeable flare inside him. “You are not Joey Drew. At least, you’re not the real Joey Drew. You’re not like Wilson, who came in here from outside. You’re just like a shadow of himself that Joey Drew created.”

“Yes, Henry, that is right.” Joey remained seated on the floor. “I am not the Joey Drew who created this place, parallel to the outside world, but I did not lie. I am the one and only Joey Drew, and I bear the weight of what he stood for and his actions.”

“Tell me, did you ever assist Wilson and his Keepers?” Henry found his tone was flat. Perhaps it was because he was feeling numb.

“Never,” Joey said, shaking his head.

“Have you, not the real Joey Drew, ever harmed anyone?”

Another shake of the head. “Henry, I know where you are going with this, and it is not—”

“Do you know why Joey Drew created you?”

“To be here for Audrey as long as she needs me, and to tell her the truth about her origins,” Joey said without hesitation. “I fulfilled the latter during the last Cycle.”

“You have always been here?” Henry motioned to the two rooms.

“Sometimes I have ventured about The Studio, but I stay here most of the time.”

Henry tightened his grip on the wrench, seeming to loom over Joey for a moment like a dark shadow.

“However, I believe that I am also here so you can get revenge against your creator, after all this time. An angel was not enough.” Joey nodded to Allison. “Let me tell you a story, Henry. There was once a bitter old man who had lost everything and created a world to torment his old business partner, even if it was only in paper and ink. He felt that partner had abandoned their work just for the sake of a family. But then the bitter old man managed to get a family of his own. A wonderful, kind daughter who showed him what real happiness could be, and he came to regret creating a world to torment his creations. However, he could not change the past and could not destroy that world. So, instead, he sought to ensure it would get passed onto his daughter. Someone who would approach that world with new eyes, come to love its inhabitants, and bring light to it.”

The story echoed into the air. The only other sounds were the distant creaks of ink moving through the pipes in the walls.

Joey gazed up at Henry. “The time of Joey Drew has passed. My time has passed. And I am sure that even without any further input from me, you will continue to protect this world from harm. So, Henry, take your justified revenge against your creator. It is what you deserve.”

Allison reached out and touched his elbow, and murmured his name gently, but Henry wasn’t done. In a single motion, putting all the frustration and anger he had left bubbling within him, Henry hurled the wrench at the tombstone. The impact was so devastating as to send bits of the tombstone raining down around them, shattering Joey Drew’s name, and putting out all the candles.

“There, I did it,” Henry muttered. He stared down at the figure cowering on the ground and warned him, "Stay away from the mailbox, Joey.”

He turned on his heel and strode out of the room.

Allison caught up with him after Henry had made several twists and turns away from that section of the sewers. There were no patrols of the mohawked Lost Ones around. Everything was quiet and still. “Henry, what you did in there,” she said. “I’m proud of you.”

“I did what was right. That was all.” Goodness, he felt exhausted. “The man in there wasn’t the actual Joey Drew. The actual Joey Drew created someone to suffer on his behalf, and I refuse to give him any kind of twisted closure.”

They traveled in silence for several minutes, Allison acting as his guide, before she spoke, “As for Joey, the Joey who is here…”

Henry sighed. “Just give me some time, all right? If there is a chance that he might know something valuable we don’t know, and which could keep us all safe, then I’ll do what I need to do.”

***

Audrey was bubbling with excitement when she got back to the apartment after work. She told Bendy and Inky about The Ink Machine getting officially passed onto them in the eyes of the law thanks partly to her boss. She was even able to share the news that Mr. Arch had approved an idea Andrew had for creating a full-length, animated movie about Bendy, Alice Angel, and Boris.

“Hmm, Andrew being allowed to develop an idea for an animated movie in any way related to us,” Inky grumbled. “Oh yes, I am positive that is a brilliant decision.”

Bendy, meanwhile, found the whole thing incredible—especially when Audrey mentioned they would get to watch the whole thing at a theater.

Life was good, and of course she took the time to sit down and write about the good news to Henry, who expressed enthusiasm about the project as well and some news of his own. Apparently, he had moved the mailbox all the way to Betty’s manor, due to some kind of accident on the first floor.

“Wandering wanted to help me out with something,” Henry explained amid their exchange, “and unfortunately the first floor got damaged as a result. Don’t worry, though. Tom and Allison are going to help me with cleaning things up, and we might even renovate the place.”

“Is everyone okay?” Audrey asked.

“Yes, but I have a feeling I should spend some quality time with Wandering to lift their spirits. They seem to have the impression that they cannot contribute as much as everyone else.”

Audrey smiled. “I’m sure they would like that a lot.”

“Say, Audrey?”

“Yes, Henry?”

“Make sure to be careful, and to take care of yourself, Bendy, and Inky. All right?”

His concern was touching, although there was something in those words—Audrey could almost imagine Henry penning the question with a worried frown on his face. Her smile widened. “We’ll watch out for each other, as always. I promise,” she responded.

“Good. Let us know when you plan to come for a visit again,” Henry wrote. “Betty is eager to give Inky a cooking lesson, and to continue Bendy’s piano lessons. My art lessons with Bendy would be especially effective in person, and of course we need to give you a tour around here now that things have calmed down considerably.”

“Of course. Goodnight, Henry.”

“Goodnight, Audrey.”

Chapter Text

A few days had passed since Henry had confronted Joey Drew in the sewers.

Well, not the “real” Joey Drew, who was gone, but a version created to reportedly help Audrey in The Studio. A shadow of his creator who Henry had left trembling in his small stronghold in the sewers. He still had trouble deciding exactly how to feel about having a Joey Drew still be in existence, much less how to deal with him from here onwards. There were too many memories wrapped up in his very appearance.

Henry thought he better understood how much Audrey was struggling with the memories of her father. Always, he had felt more outright anger and hatred towards Joey Drew than anything else. But now… it was hard to say, exactly.

Even so, he would need to confront Joey Drew again.

And he would need to tell Audrey about him, after her planned trip to Coney Island. Until then, it seemed a shame to spoil the long-awaited outing that Audrey, Bendy, and Inky had put off until they had another opportunity to do it. None of them deserved to have someone like Joey Drew weighing on their minds when they could enjoy themselves wholeheartedly for a while.

In the meantime, Tom had helped Henry to patch up the first floor. They had tightened exposed pipes that were leaking out onto the floor, repaired the ceiling, and boarded over numerous holes. There were certain things they hadn’t been able to recover, unfortunately, such as many of Henry’s drawings that had been washed away by the ink. The breakroom seemed to have suffered a great deal of damage as well—although thankfully Norman had been able to move into a spacious room that they had just finished, attached to the community theater.

Fixing the first floor was a minor thing.

The one who really had Henry worried, though, was Wandering. Ever since they had helped to track down Joey, they had become withdrawn and less eager to communicate with Henry or anyone else. Some of that withdrawal might have been due to sheer exhaustion, but he could tell there was much more to it.

Trying to engage Wandering in lighthearted conversations and reassuring them didn’t seem to be working. At least, not as Henry had managed to do so in the past, by chatting with them in the walls and perhaps sharing some thoughts about the progress being made in The Studio.

He needed to try something different.

Something that Wandering had implied by emerging as they had from the walls.

So, Henry had sat down and had had a conversation with the others, and the following morning, he stepped into the parlor within the manor. He slipped on his Seeing Tool glasses and called out, “Hey, Wandering, are you there?”

After about two minutes, a single word in golden ink appeared on the wall, “Yes.”

“Good, I could use your help.”

Another single word, “Okay.”

Betty entered the room. “Actually, we would very much appreciate your help,” she said. “It’s for something very, very important.”

The “Okay” remained in place.

“However, the best way to help us would be for you to come out here into the parlor,” Henry persisted. “Can you do that?”

Henry watched the “Okay” disappear from the wall. He and Betty stood waiting for several minutes. Wandering was struggling to decide the way to react to this situation, he was sure, but Henry knew that he and Betty were fierce competitors when it came to patience.

At last, a golden word appeared, “Yes,” and Wandering emerged from the wall. They wrung their hands and kept their eyes averted. Ink dripped from between the bandages on their arms and shoulder, and in numerous other places as well, although they hugged themselves as if to hide the leaks.

“What can we do?” Wandering asked, then jerked at the sounds of Tom and Allison entering the parlor. Tom and Allison had smiles on their faces, as did Betty, and Henry. Wandering couldn’t help but grin, of course—yet it shivered slightly.

Taking a step back, Wandering sounded uncertain as they said, “What do you want us to do?” and flinched as Henry reached down and took their hand.

“Join us for a picnic at Ink Harmony Park,” Henry said.

Wandering lowered their gaze and murmured, “We do not think that is a good idea.”

“It will be fun,” Allison insisted. “Come with us. Even Tom says he will take a break from his construction work today to relax. Right, Tom?”

Tom grunted in agreement, and Allison panted him affectionately on the snout.

“I have been meaning to spend some time at the park as well,” Betty said. “Please join us. We would miss you, and it is healthy to take things slow on occasion.”

Wandering shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, edging towards the wall.

“You would help us out a great deal,” Henry assured them, squeezing their hand. “Especially if you can keep that form.”

“We can keep it now for a while. We are warm enough,” Wandering murmured. “But we cannot walk too far. It is too tiring.”

“All right.” Henry scooped them up into his arms. He nodded to the others, “Then we’re all set to go.”

***

Henry, Betty, Allison, Tom, and Wandering took the subway to Lost City. They sat side-by-side amid the echoing silence. Betty had packed a picnic basket of her own, which rested on the seat beside her, and as the quiet atmosphere continued, she clapped her hands together and said, “It will be delightful to visit Ink Harmony Park. I have been meaning to make this trip for a while now, and it is so much nicer to do it with everyone.”

“We’ll need to show you where Norman is staying now,” Allison said, “and take you on a tour of the community theater. Most of the building is complete.”

Henry nodded. “Of course, there are also the other stores around the plaza, including the Tasty Pizza. Buddy has started to include milkshakes on his menu, which will make a perfect treat.” He turned to look at Wandering, who still appeared nervous and was wringing their hands while looking around. Henry had reinforced the bandages on them and added a few more, and now they weren’t leaking at all.

“Hey,” Henry told them, “there’s no need to be anxious. Ink Harmony Park is a really great place, and so is Lost City nowadays.”

“Tom and I look forward to getting to know you better,” Allison added. “Henry has tended to use the Seeing Tool to communicate with you most of the time, and although we have glasses now as well,” here she slipped her own pair of Seeing Tool glasses out of her pocket, “it is great to finally speak with you this way.”

Then, when Wandering continued to wring their hands as if they hadn’t heard what anyone had said, Henry tapped them on the shoulder. “Wandering?”

There was no response—except the subway train around them rattled more violently. The lights flickered.

“Wandering?” Henry repeated, growing concerned. “Wandering.” He shook them by the shoulder, “Wandering!”

Thankfully, Wandering jerked back to the present moment. “We are sorry,” they said. “We are sorry… again.”

“Listen, Wandering, there’s nothing for you to be sorry about,” Henry said, and the others agreed in their distinctive ways.

“We ruined your workspace,” they stated.

Ah, so that was at least part of what had been bothering them. “It was an accident,” Henry insisted. “Besides, I am the one who asked you to help me out with something, which you did—and I’m grateful for that.”

“We also terrified you and Allison. You almost joined us in The Dark Puddles.”

Allison handled this one. “You helped us to understand what had happened in the past, and it was understandable that you got upset about such terrible circumstances. You also stopped before things got too much out of control.”

“Tom did,” Wandering interjected. “Tom made us stop.”

Tom waved his hand as if to dismiss his role in the whole thing.

As Wandering continued to fidget, Betty leaned forward from the seat opposite and took their hands in hers. “What else is on your minds?” she asked. “You look terribly frightened, and we want to know why.”

Everyone gazed at Wandering, and those pinpoint eyes widened at their scrutiny. The lights throughout the subway train flickered violently, and there came a screeching of the rails as they lost speed so suddenly that they got thrown sideways. Tom managed to grab ahold of a metal bar and latched onto Allison, while Henry reached out for Betty as they both hit the floor of the aisle.

The train ground to a halt.

Wandering gazed around at them, looked at their gloved hands, turned, and ran.

“Wait, come back!” Henry lurched to his feet and flowed forward, grabbing ahold of Wandering by the hand. If Wandering left the train now and fled into the wall, they could become even more withdrawn and taciturn—and then it would become much harder to get them to emerge in this form, just when Henry and the others had learned they might be able to interact with Wandering in a new way. That is, out in The Studio rather than just through messages on the walls.

Whatever was going on, they needed to resolve it now.

“Wandering,” Henry murmured gently.

“Let us go! We cannot stay!” Wandering shouted. Their voices echoed in a chorus, and for a moment they seemed to pour right out of the intercom system. “We cannot help you with this park. We could ruin your whole day. We are not like the Lost Ones who have left The Dark Puddles. We are still The Dark Puddles. We will always be The Dark Puddles. We are more lost than The Lost Ones.”

They were yanking with such intensity that Henry began to lose his grip on their hand, so he reached out instead and picked them up, hugging them to his chest to keep them mostly still as they kicked outwards at the air. He could hear the ink pressure hissing through them, increasing. “Tell me what’s wrong, Wandering. Why are you so scared?”

“We cannot tell you!” There were fizzing sounds throughout the train now. Lights further along the way burst in a shower of sparks. “We can’t!”

“No one can help you if you won’t tell us what’s going on,” Henry said.

“We don’t know how!”

As Wandering continued to struggle in his arms, a thought came to mind. Henry could remember Porter sharing his abilities and knowledge through touch, and then there had been the whole restoration of memories for multiple people. If Wandering could share memories and information in that way…

“Then show me,” Henry insisted. “Do that thing with the memories like you did for Norman, Sammy, and Susie. But just let me see into your head for a minute. Can you do that?”

“Show us,” Allison corrected him, as she, Tom, and Betty gathered around them. “We want to help you, Wandering. You’re one of us, and we look out for each other, all right?”

“Okay…” The creaking in the walls grew much worse. It was like the whole tunnel was crumbling around them. “Touch…. our… head…”

Everyone touched a hand to the sides of Wandering’s head.

And their minds filled with visions.

***

They were falling through The Dark Puddles. It was a frighteningly familiar sensation for Henry, remembered from past Cycles, of swirling about in amid a vast, cold darkness while minds echoed everywhere in terrified agony—falling apart and mashing together into confused new configurations, before pulling apart again. Like many massive, shattered puzzle pieces trying desperately to find where they belonged.

Whenever Henry had gone there before, swimming about, those pieces had never had much luck. Pain had radiated off each false collision, and Henry had always felt in danger of losing himself in the same way, even though he never had.

This time, it was as if a bubble of protection surrounded them. Henry and the others remained whole and untouched by the chaos around them as they plunged through the inky depths and voices cried out.

“Goodness, is this what poor Wandering experiences all the time?” Betty gasped. “No wonder they are so frightened.”

Allison, meanwhile, was frowning. “Henry, doesn’t this place look a little like the night sky over Ink Harmony Park?”

It did. At least in the sense that the darkness was more noticeable between the fragmented souls as they drifted about. Some of them were larger than others, and as they watched, a small piece attached itself to a much larger one, and a singular voice called out, “Oh, I remember!” before the soul vanished.

The same thing was happening here and there, and now that Henry thought of it, these Dark Puddles indeed seemed much different than they had in the past. Before, there had been clumps upon clumps of souls in agony—so much so that it sometimes seemed there were more souls than actual darkness. The fact the same space could resemble the starry skies at all was an achievement, or at least a considerable shift away from its former state.

“There are fewer voices in here than there were before,” Henry murmured aloud.

Tom barked an observation, and Allison said, “Yes, I think you’re right, Tom. Those disappearing souls could be Lost Ones emerging into The Studio.”

The darkness around them rumbled, and all the bits and voices echoed as one, “Yes.”

“Why is it so different in here?” Henry asked.

“Warmth,” all the voices echoed, and they reached a section of The Dark Puddles that was, indeed, much warmer than where they had just been. It was almost like moving through a pleasantly warm bath. The setting was also lighter, and everything had a golden tint.

This light was moving upwards against the darkness, and glowing clumps of souls headed towards fragments still in the colder region.

“It reminds me of the golden ink of the words on the walls,” Betty said. “Am I right?”

“Yes,” came the echo again, even louder now, and they could discern structures amid the light as they kept dropping. There were countless pipes and bits of machinery criss-crossing each other, which Henry and the others swerved around. The pipes stretched into the darkness, and now visible on either side of them were distant, metal walls.

Like the metal sides of The Ink Machine.

There was power amid this golden ink. As they progressed, Henry noticed the ripples they produced, and he had the impression that these reverberations could very well have been echoing throughout The Studio itself.

Then they reached another section altogether, dropping into what appeared to be the hallway of the first floor—except there were trees along the wall and protruding from the opened doorways and the walls.

“Where are we now?” Allison asked. She reached out to touch the trees and drew her hand back almost at once. “The texture of these trees is strange. They’re different than the trees in Ink Harmony Park.”

Henry felt them as well, and a distant, implanted memory came to the rescue. “Because these trees are not like the ones from The Studio. They’re like the trees from outside The Ink Machine.”

Wonderingly, they spent some time checking out these unusual specimens before they continued along the corridor, now on their own two feet. Right towards a peculiar trickling sound. It wasn’t like ink gushing across a room.

No, it was more like another type of liquid altogether. Like water.

They stepped onto grass, soft and crinkly, which covered the floor of the front room. Henry and the others peered around at the trees lining the wall space, at the flowers blooming amid the grass, and at the spring flowing from the back wall and across the floor to the door where Henry had usually entered The Studio each Cycle. The liquid seemed to slide through the crack right along the bottom of the door.

The strange spring glittered, and flecks of that glitter drifted about in the air like fireflies.

Sitting on the edge of the spring, their feet and legs dangled in the dark liquid, was Wandering.

“It’s kind of pretty down here,” Allison said as she touched one of the glowing flecks. It brightened and buzzed away. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

Tom nodded and knelt to inspect the stream itself. He grunted, and after some slight hesitation dipped his fingers into the liquid.

Betty pushed aside some of the tree branches to expose the walls, where there were pictures of various locations.

“Those are mountains,” Henry pointed to one picture, “and a forest of some kind. And—” He stared at it a bit closer. “A spring of some kind in a forest glade.” It resembled the one flowing through the room.

Knowing there was certainly more going on here than a pretty forest setting, Henry approached Wandering and sat beside them. “What is this place?” he asked.

Wandering remained still for a long time, as if they hadn’t heard him. Their eyes, Henry noticed, weren’t glowing here, and they were actually frowning as if lost deep in thought.

“The Spring of Dreams,” they said at last. “Where dreams come true.”

“What do you mean?”

“We were known to grant wishes,” Wandering replied, “although mostly to those with kind hearts.”

“Like a sort of wishing well,” Henry murmured, but then the implications of what Wandering had just said sunk in. “Wait a moment. Are you saying the ink for The Ink Machine came from an actual spring?”

“We were a spring. The spring no longer exists, except in here.” Wandering waved at the surroundings. "It was tampered with, and experimented on, and forced about, and now we are the Spring, we are The Ink Machine, and we are Lost Souls.” At the last point, the chorus of voices became especially boisterous, and then Wandering said, “And we are The Studio.”

The walls trembled slightly.

Betty carefully sat down on the other side of Wandering. “I never realized the ink originally came from a magical spring,” she said. “That’s a lovely thought, actually.”

“Who would have ever thought of it?” came an odd, gravelly voice.

All of them, except for Wandering, turned in astonishment.

Allison gasped. “Tom,” she said, approaching him. “You actually… spoke.”

Tom blinked. “I did?” Then he blinked again, having realized the words came from his own mouth. His gaze dropped to the dark liquid. “I made a wish, and this spring granted it,” he murmured.

Allison threw her arms around him. “Oh, Tom, I could understand you before, but I’m so happy to hear your voice.”

Wandering bowed their head.

“It’s nice here, and the warmth we passed through felt wonderful,” Henry noted.

“It is,” Wandering agreed. “The warmth began and has spread ever since Audrey began to make improvements through the sketch book. I feel them, and The Ink responds. More Lost Ones emerge from The Dark Puddles every day as well; they do not come back constantly as they once did when The Studio was more dangerous, when they would fill our minds with renewed pain.”

“But that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Very good.”

“Then why are you so scared?” Henry asked. “Everything is going well, The Lost Ones are coming together and leading new lives, and you are not in as much pain as in past Cycles.”

“We were always a great collection of souls here in The Studio,” Wandering replied. “We were vulnerable and largely powerless, aside from the words written on the wall in golden ink. Now, most of those souls have left The Dark Puddles, and we have somehow become more powerful. We can affect our surroundings.”

Henry remembered the devastation of the first floor, and the mayhem caused by Wandering panicking in the subway. And, suddenly, he understood. He really did. Wandering was gaining more control over what happened in The Studio, but it was the first time they had ever had such abilities, and they still weren’t used to having that kind of power over themselves and their environment.

Also, as Wandering added, “We no longer know who we are, without so many souls. They are leaving, but we are still aware. We don’t know why or how. We thought we would disappear if most of or all our souls disappeared, but now we are unsure.”

Allison and Tom came to sit beside them and gaze down at the spring. “Were you ever self-aware as the Spring of Dreams?” Allison asked.

Wandering shook their head. “Awareness came later, but we have memories of the forest. We would have been afraid when the people came to drain us, if we could have been afraid.”

“You know what I think?” Henry said, placing a hand on Wandering’s shoulder. “I think you’re developing an identity of your own, as a part of The Ink Machine, and from your memories of all the souls that have passed through The Dark Puddles. Things are changing all the time here in The Studio.”

Wandering considered this observation and wrung their hands. “We are not sure about that.”

Betty laid a hand on Wandering’s other shoulder. “But I know we can all agree that we have felt a need to make our own choices and lead our own lives in this Cycle.”

“That’s right,” Allison agreed. “If we can make those decisions, so can you.”

“Particularly if this voice is permanent,” Tom interjected. “I can finally take that smirking Ink Demon down a few pegs.”

Allison chuckled. “I look forward to seeing how Inky reacts to that.”

Henry squeezed Wandering’s shoulder gently. “We get it now. You’re going through a lot of changes, and you’re worried about what it means for you in the future. We’ve had the same concerns, and we’ll be here to support you, no matter what happens. You don’t need to be alone anymore.”

“We are never alone,” Wandering stated in a matter-of-fact tone. But then they smiled. Really smiled. “Thank you, Henry.” They looked at the others. “Thank you, everyone. My friends.”

Everyone came in for a group hug, as the scene dissolved around them.

***

They were back in the subway. Everybody broke into relieved laughter, and Wandering restarted the train. They needed to take it slow at first, encouraged along by Henry and the others, and there were numerous loud creaks along the tunnel as Wandering strained, but soon enough they were on their way again.

They left the train in high spirits, although Henry did ask Tom if he could still speak after their journey into Wandering’s mind.

Tom’s lips tweaked into a smile. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m obliged to do so all the time. Also, don’t give away my secret until Audrey, Bendy, and Inky visit again.” It was obvious he wanted to have the element of surprise on his side when it came to Inky.

Henry promised to stay quiet, especially since it wouldn’t be too long before the trio did visit again, given what he had to share with Audrey about Joey.

He carried Wandering, whose eyes and grin were no longer glowing, as the group made their way through Lost City and Ink Harmony Park. And from there, the day progressed with dream-like serenity. They enjoyed a nice picnic lunch on the grass overlooking the lake, had milkshakes at the Tasty Pizza, and slipped into the largely completely community theater building to take in its sizable auditorium, spacious lobby, and the living quarters on the second floor for Norman, who welcomed them warmly.

While Wandering stayed as quiet as Tom most of the time, they often whistled a merry little tune throughout the rest of the outing.

***

That evening, long after they had returned to the manor, Henry once again asked for Wandering to join them for a while, and thankfully they did without much hesitation.

Alongside Betty, Allison, and Tom, Henry guided Wandering to the basement.

“I wasn’t sure what we were going to do with all the space and clutter down here,” Betty said, “but Henry made an excellent suggestion that you might enjoy having somewhere like the basement to practice those fascinating abilities of yours, such as influencing the environment and moving things around. You could improve it a great deal.”

Wandering gazed around in wonder at the area. “It is all for us?” They sounded incredulous.

“Oh yes, and please feel free to join us in the manor at any time,” Betty added. “I can always use a hand around the place.” She smiled.

“You should feel free to pop out anywhere else as well,” Allison said. “Including in Ink Harmony Park, for instance.”

“Of course, I’ve missed our usual chats,” Henry put in. “And if you’re interested in taking art lessons, I would be glad to have another student.”

“We will!” Wandering exclaimed with such force the whole manor rattled for a moment. Then they clapped gloved hands to their mouth, and everything quieted as they said in a calmer tone, “We would like that a lot.”

And it was another peaceful night for them all.

Chapter Text

Audrey awoke that morning to the sounds of Bendy already moving about in the kitchen. The sweet aroma of pancakes and cakes wafted past the ajar bedroom door, alongside grumbles from Inky such as, “How much longer must we wait for Audrey to get up? You should shake her. She would thank you.”

For several seconds amid her sleepy daze, Audrey tried to figure out exactly why Inky would be so impatient, or if there was something important for her to remember.

Then, of course, a memory bobbed to the surface.

Audrey opened her eyes and flung off the bedcovers. She strode to the bedroom door, opened it all the way, and proclaimed, “Good morning, Bendy and Inky! Are you guys ready for our trip to Coney Island?”

Bendy pumped his fist in the air and whistled in approval, flipping a pancake onto a plate. Meanwhile, Inky simply shrugged as if indifferent to the whole situation. “It might be entertaining if we actually go this time,” he rasped.

“Of course, we will.” Audrey poured herself a cup of coffee. “We can enjoy ourselves. There’s nothing to worry about.” She firmly believed that. This outing to Coney Island had been a long time in coming, admittedly, but so much had happened during the delay. It was hard to believe she, and effectively the others of The Ink World, were the actual, legal owners of The Ink Machine. Furthermore, life both in The Ink World and out in The Real World had achieved a peaceful rhythm and balance.

Her boss had made Thomas Connor back down, and she refused to let the fact that the Gent manager might come back dampen her enthusiasm for the day ahead. Whatever Mr. Connor had brought up about Wilson, it was apparently not enough to sway Mr. Arch—although exactly what the old Gent manager might have said was something which kept nagging at Audrey. The real story might have been too extraordinary for even Mr. Arch to believe, since it would involve Wilson plunging into The Ink Machine to take over another world of paper-and-ink.

All she could think was that Mr. Connor must have related a rehearsed version of the story, with so many omissions as to make Mr. Arch dismiss his account as lies. It was hard to say, especially since her boss had failed to show any signs of being affected by any revelations about Wilson. Even though she also knew Mr. Arch was good at keeping a lid on his own emotions. He could be a good actor in his own right, in a way.

Regardless, things had worked out for the best, and everyone could relax for once.

At long last.

***

Audrey, Bendy, and Inky took the subway to Coney Island. Passengers thronged the train, and the commotion was uproarious, but Bendy seemed more excited than frightened by all the people around them. His pie-cut eyes, concealed by his sunglasses, must have been roving everywhere the whole time—taking in commuters like themselves reading newspapers, chatting to each other on countless subjects and in various accents, or holding onto the railings and other handholds provided overhead as they stood during the ride.

However, children were the ones who captivated the cartoonish imp the most, many of whom were quite young and accompanying their parents. Several of these families were apparently on their way to Coney Island as well, and words like “Luna Park,” “The Abe Stark Skating Rink,” and “The Cyclone,” among other destinations danced enticingly through the air. Some of them were even talking about a treat called the “Coney Island Hot Dog.”

All of them seemed to be so excited, adding to his own excitement, that Bendy squeaked in laughter, which made an old woman turn to regard him in undisguised surprise.

Audrey brought an arm around Bendy and pulled him close to her side, while the picnic basket they had packed for the beach rested on her lap.

“We need to be careful,” Audrey reminded him in a whisper, and Bendy nodded in understanding. Even though she could feel herself trembling with joy at making this trip as well. She had never, ever gone to Coney Island before but had only heard stories about the marvels found there.

The only one able to make himself heard with impunity was Inky, and he took full advantage of the fact. “Do you hear that, Audrey?” he rasped, leaning over two young children who were gushing to their parents as if to better listen in on their discussion. “There is a ride called ‘Dante’s Inferno’ with monsters that terrify people, and another one known as ‘Spook-A-Rama.’ But it will not scare me.”

From the shivering by her side, however, Audrey could tell the idea of a ride with monsters did scare Bendy.

Inky noticed the trembling as well. “Still, it might be a problem for scaredy-cats.” He sniggered, and his taunting made Bendy stop shivering and whip out his notebook. A moment later, he had written, “I am not a scaredy-cat!” and held it up high for Inky to read.

The problem was that other passengers could see the message as well. They glanced around newspapers and other things occupying their attention during the trip. Some of the younger children giggled, while a few adults raised quizzical eyebrows at Audrey as if wondering what “her kid” was doing.

“Bendy,” Audrey whispered urgently, and Bendy quickly put the notebook away, looking sheepish. She also shot Inky a warning glance, although he just shrugged and proceeded to enjoy his own little games with the reflections of people in the glass, from chewing on the brim of a woman’s straw hat to brushing at the hair of an older businessman with the tips of his claws.

He even came towards a baby held in a mother’s arms, lifting his arms high as if ready to pounce. Audrey gulped down a shout, unwilling to draw more attention to themselves. But Inky, in fact, went right past the mother and baby to loom over the father, only for the baby to stir within—judging by the pink blanket—her mother’s arms and gurgle in ignorant contentment. The father also remained blissfully unaware of the dark figure hanging above him, reached over, and tickled the babe under the chin to a renewed burst of gurgles.

Inky grumbled and skulked away.

Audrey kept scanning their immediate environment in case anyone did show an ability to see Inky, but nothing happened throughout the rest of the ride.

Thank goodness.

***

The beach at Coney Island was even busier than the subway train had been, with families splashing through the lapping waves, drifting on inflatable rafts, or simply sunbathing. As Bendy stared at the happy sea of humanity, Audrey reached into the picnic basket and extracted a white and red-striped blanket to lay across the sand.

While laying out the plates, she felt a tug at her shoulder. Bendy had written in his notebook, “What are those kids doing?” He pointed.

Audrey looked. “Ah, they’re building a sandcastle,” she said, smiling. “You can mold the sand into different shapes here.” Reaching down, she picked up a handful of the sand and crunched it inwards with her fingers. “It works better when the sand is wet, though, and that’s why those kids are doing it at the edge of the water.”

Bendy’s eyes widened in amazement as he grabbed at the sand and watched the grains spill out from between his fingers. He whistled in awe and continued to watch the people as Audrey pulled out some ham and cheese sandwiches they had prepared at the apartment.

Another tug on the sweater. “What are those people doing?” Bendy wrote, pointing towards the ocean.

“Surfing,” Audrey replied. “They have special boards, which they try to stand on and use to ride the ocean waves back to the shore.” As she spoke, she fished around inside the basket and pulled out a small mirror, the kind often used to help apply cosmetics and that it was possible to stand up on a metal base. She set it atop the picnic basket.

“Finally!” Inky huffed as he appeared in the reflection. “It took you too long, Audrey.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” Audrey replied, “but I needed to set everything up.”

“You should have gotten Bendy to help you.”

Bendy seemed to realize that Inky had a point, and he wrote, “Sorry, Audrey.”

“Don’t be sorry, little guy. I wanted you to have an opportunity to look around. It’s your first time at the beach, after all.” She patted him between his horns.

Inky grunted. “Yeah, because you are such an expert,” he rasped. “How often have you come here, Audrey? Not in the last few months.”

“Well, to be honest,” Audrey blushed in embarrassment, “I have never gone to the beach before.” She then proceeded to explain to them that while beaches like the one found along this specific shore existed in countless places throughout the world, and Audrey had heard, read, and seen enough to know what went on at them, she had never personally visited one.

Bendy sprang to his feet and wrote, “Then you need to have fun too. Let’s go have fun together, Audrey.” He looked ready to tug her along right then and there, until Audrey reminded him of their sandwiches. So, even though he still vibrated with anticipation the whole time, Bendy took a seat.

The only upset was when Bendy noticed something that made him nearly choke on his sandwich. He sprang up again, alarmed, and hurriedly jotted down, “Audrey, someone’s head is on the beach!”

This observation was startling enough for Audrey to nearly choke on her sandwich as well. She looked where Bendy was pointing for a long moment, swallowed, and heaved a heavy sigh of relief.

“I never thought I would see that in this world,” Inky grumbled.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Audrey murmured. “It’s not just a head, Bendy. Someone has been buried in the sand.” This time, she was the one who pointed. “See? His buddies there have poured sand over the rest of his body to hide it, but you can see the shape of his arms, legs, and torso. His head is the only part of his body still exposed.”

Bendy blinked a few times, as if he was taking time to let himself believe it. But then he sighed too and flopped back down.

“Can we bury Bendy in the sand next?” Inky suggested.

Bendy frowned at the idea and wrote, “Can we bury Inky in the sand?”

They didn’t do either, of course. Instead, after finishing the sandwiches, they went for a short stroll among the lapping waves, with Bendy carrying the mirror for Inky—where not only did the two demons get introduced to seaweed, but also to seashells, as well as—by a stroke of luck—a sand dollar. And they carried some of these discoveries back to their spot on the beach, to use as additional building material for a sandcastle.

“We’re going to see more seashells and other things about the sea when we visit the aquarium,” Audrey said as they built the crude structure, with Bendy volunteering to run back and forth to gather water in a cup to moisten the sand. “The ocean is a fascinating place to learn about.”

Bendy nodded his head vigorously, but Inky grumbled, “I see nothing fascinating about it. It is like an enormous ink puddle.”

“You’ll see,” Audrey promised.

***

The New York Aquarium gleamed like an enormous, metallic spiral seashell near the Riegelmann Boardwalk, and even though Inky sniggered about visiting a place with multiple tanks of liquid, he fell silent when they came across exhibits showcasing the seabed, coral reefs, and the many types of fish inhabitants.

In fact, Audrey, Bendy, and Inky moved through the darkened rooms in a kind of amazed trance, gazing into one tank after another. Sometimes Audrey would read the descriptions beside the exhibits, finding that she tended to recite them in a hushed voice. As if they were intruding on some kind of sacred space. The majesty of the whole thing seemed to have infected them, especially when they came across such displays as jellyfish, and then entered a glass tunnel where the ocean itself appeared to move around them.

That tunnel was perhaps what intrigued them the most. Audrey and Bendy pointed out fish and other features noticed from the other exhibits, and when one of the sharks swam past the glass, Inky appeared in the reflection and followed the creature as if to imitate it—and possibly to enjoy the similar treatment of having fish hurriedly get out of the shark’s way.

Then there were sights like the sea lions, which Audrey to Bendy and Inky were not the same as regular lions, and penguins. One wonder after another met their inspection and stunned them, and they left the aquarium in a thoughtful state.

At last, though, Audrey said, “Well, Inky, do you still think the ocean is just an enormous ink puddle?”

“I must admit it is… surprising,” which was as much as she got Inky to admit that he had been wrong.

Bendy, meanwhile, wrote that he wanted to go there again very soon.

***

It was more than a little obvious by this point that there was only so much they could do during this outing to Coney Island, which made sense considering the size of the island and everything built there over the years. They still had plenty of time, and was only a bit past noon, but Audrey knew how quickly the time could slip away.

Since Inky was insistent on at least riding the “Spook-a-Rama,” this goal brought them into Deno’s Wonder Wheel Amusement Park.

“This is an amusement park?” Inky rumbled in outright awe, and Bendy whistled.

“Apparently, Coney Island has a number of them,” Audrey said. “But I think we should stick to this one for today.”

They found a large signboard with a map of the park and spotted “Spook-a-Rama” right beside a hot dog stand. However, in the way of things, they couldn’t resist stopping by several of the other attractions on the way over. They enjoyed a short Rio Grande Train ride, collided against each other in bumper cars, bounced up and down on the Merry-go-Round, and held on tight to one another amid the Tilt-a-Whirl.

Audrey laughed, Bendy squeaked, and Inky—despite his usual grumbling—guffawed on more than one occasion.

“Having fun, you two?” Audrey asked in the face of all evidence.

Bendy whistled in happiness, and Inky rasped, “Fine. I guess this trip was worth the wait.”

“Aww, that’s sweet, Inky.” Audrey chuckled.

“Yeah, but the Spook-a-Rama had better be terrifying.” He sniggered, looking pointedly at Bendy. “Only scaredy-cats couldn’t handle it.”

“Stop teasing Bendy, Inky,” Audrey warned him, “or we won’t go on it at all.”

Inky was clearly on the brink of a retort when there came a collective groan from up ahead. Out in front of the Spook-a-Rama, a group of teenagers were being turned away by a gentleman in a mustache. A gentleman who was dabbing at his forehead with a handkerchief that looked ready for him to wring out at any moment.

“My apologies, folks,” the man said. “This ride has broken down.” Then, growing anxious at the mumbled complaints of the teenagers and other hopeful riders—and Inky, if he could have heard him—the man pressed on, “But please do not fret. We have a stellar repair guy on the case, and he says we’ll be up-and-running again in about half an hour.”

Somewhat mollified by this declaration, the crowd dispersed.

“Just great,” Inky grumbled.

“That really isn’t too long,” Audrey tried to console him. “After all, there are other rides we can go on in the meantime. And—”

Bendy whistled to get her attention, and he pointed to the Deno’s Wonder Wheel.

Audrey smiled. “Like going on the Ferris Wheel, for example.”

***

As their cabin lifted into the air, rotating around the massive Ferris Wheel, they were able to gaze out over Deno’s Wonder Wheel Amusement Park, spotted the New York Aquarium, gazed upon the beach where they had spent several hours, and then glance at the broad vista of parks and other attractions they could visit in the future.

“You know,” Audrey murmured, “I never used to think about things like this. I mean, about going somewhere like Coney Island just for fun. It feels as if I’ve only really started to live during these past several months, thanks to you two, and everyone in The Ink World.”

Bendy grinned widely at this admission. He pulled out his notebook. “When I was in our other world, I could not imagine being so happy. Everything is so colorful and bright.”

Hmm. Colorful? Audrey honestly hadn’t thought about it much, but The Ink World did indeed lack color. Well, there were certain hues there—yet what a wonderful treat it would be if they could bring color to the residents there.

“You are scheming something,” Inky rasped. “You are planning something, something big, for our realm.”

“I was thinking of adding color to The Ink World, although I’m not sure how well it would work,” Audrey said.

“You should talk to The Dark Puddles,” Inky replied. “They are doing things in our realm. I can sense them experimenting.”

“You mean Wandering?” Audrey was intrigued. “Do you know what they’re up to?”

Inky shrugged. “Whatever it is, they are happy about it. I can feel the warmth spreading more. I can hear them faintly whispering about plans.”

“Well, I guess it might be helpful if they knew about me adding color to certain places in The Ink World,” Audrey said. “Maybe they would be able to help us.”

Bendy pulled out his notebook. “Could I help to add color too?” he asked, clearly excited by that prospect.

“Sure, you can.” Audrey reached under Bendy’s hood to stroke him between the horns. “Unleashing a world of color on our friends would be much easier with some help.”

***

When the Ferris Wheel came to a rest, and they stepped off, Inky grumbled with impatience that they should check if the Spook-a-Rama was open yet. And so, they headed in that direction, and thankfully found riders getting seated within barrel-like carts that got towed deep within the building that held what was essentially a haunted house.

Bendy shivered, squeezing her hand, as they moved beyond the front of the decrepit house façade, and under an eave, above which the statue of a stone dragon appeared to crouch as if about to leap upon the guests below. One of the ride operators helped them to step into a barrel, where they plopped down on a metal seat.

“Keep all your arms and legs inside the ride vehicle at all times,” the rider operator advised them, as Bendy hugged onto Audrey from the side.

Audrey patted him on the head. “Don’t worry, Bendy. There are no actual monsters in there,” she soothed him. “It’s all in the spirit of fun, and I’ll be right here the whole time.”

Inky rasped, “None of these monsters could be as scary as I am, anyway. I plan on laughing during the whole ride.”

“Is that why you wanted to go on this ride so badly?” Audrey said, sighing. “I thought you wanted something terrifying.”

“What could be more terrifying than monsters who are trying too hard? It will be very entertaining.”

Audrey decided to give up the conversation at this point, as their barrel slid along the track in one direction, out into the sunlight, before making a sharp turn along the switchback tracks. Straight ahead were the doors they would push through to go into the building. She held Bendy close, ready to comfort him.

That was when they heard a conversation out in front of the building. The operator who had earlier turned away the teenagers said, “Ah, thank you for coming out here on such short notice. You’re a lifesaver, Mr. Connor.”

A chill shot down her spine as an all-too-familiar, gravelly voice replied, “Don’t mention it, Mr. Jebson. You’re just lucky I happened to be in the area.”

“It’s Thomas Connor,” Audrey gasped, and now she saw him in his workman’s overalls shaking hands with, apparently, Mr. Jebson. The barrel was bringing them along the tracks, and they would pass right in front of him.

Bendy hugged her tighter, because of course Audrey had mentioned Thomas Connor coming into Archgate Films, and the cartoonish imp and Inky recognized the older man who had chased them to the doors of the studio as well.

“I wish to thank your colleague as well,” Mr. Jebson continued, holding out a hand towards another tall figure standing near Mr. Connor. This one, however, wore a dark jumpsuit and a hood with a gas mask.

Something about the figure sent an even colder chill down Audrey’s spine, although she couldn’t say exactly why.

Mr. Jebson clearly felt the same way. He withdrew his hand, unshaken.

Mr. Connor snorted. “Gave me more trouble than anything else.” He looked at the figure. “Go wait for me in the truck,” he practically barked, and after a moment, the figure sauntered away in a peculiar way, as if he had trouble walking—leaving just the old workman to get past.

“You can take him, Audrey,” Inky rasped, although there was a surprising quiver in his voice. Perhaps Bendy’s nerves were affecting him a bit, or even the bizarreness of that strange figure. “Just find a pipe and—”

“You can’t attack people with pipes in The Real World,” Audrey hissed, trying to keep her voice down. “It’s wrong.”

“Even against your enemies?” Inky sounded less than pleased by this revelation.

“People in The Real World don’t come back like The Lost Ones. Besides,” Audrey said, “he’s intimidating, but he hasn’t done anything to us yet. I want to avoid a physical confrontation, if possible.”

Inky huffed. “Then what do you plan to do? Hide?”

“It’s worked before,” Audrey replied, and she and Bendy ducked down in the barrel as they got propelled towards the doors. They were extra quiet.

The problem was, however, Thomas Connor happened to be observant. He perked up, spotting them in the barrel. His face grew harder than the time he had pursued the three of them down the street.

“Mr. Connor, is something the matter?” Mr. Jebson asked.

“Nothing,” Mr. Connor said. “If it’s all the same to you, I’m going to stand here for a while and make sure things run smoothly.” He was looking at them, though, as he crossed his arms.

They pushed through into the darkness, and Bendy whistled urgently at her. He might have written something down on his notebook, but of course Audrey couldn’t see it without better lighting.

“Well, you hid, and he saw us. Now what?” Inky growled.

Audrey muttered. “He’s going to be waiting for us at the end of the ride. We’ll need to get off before then.”

“Okay, and how do you plan to—”

There was the jerking of metal off to one side, and something lurched forward, accompanied by a strobe effect. A high-pitched squeal, like helium being released from a balloon at a high speed, resounded through the air. Metal rods yanked a scarecrow-like figure back into position on the wall.

“It’s okay, Bendy,” Audrey said, patting him on the side. “It was just some special effects.”

Bendy gave a confused whistle, but then Inky quickly cut in, “Yeah, just special effects. Right. Completely stupid.”

Audrey had the tiniest suspicion that she might have been comforting the wrong demon. She might have found it funny if there wasn’t a potential threat waiting for them at the end of this whole experience.

More animatronics lunged, growled, and bounced around in the darkness around them. Bendy jumped at several of these, although it was clear he was preoccupied by the bigger problem at the finish as well.

Then a glowing red “EXIT” sign danced through the dimness, and Audrey grabbed ahold of Bendy’s hand as the barrel pivoted past a cage of mechanical rats. “All right, we’re getting out of here. Hold tight and follow me,” she said, and broke the cardinal rule of every rider on a dark ride. But it was an emergency, and so they two of them sprinted for the door, pushing out into the daylight behind the attraction.

They went running right into a crowd of guests. A very thick crowd.

Audrey felt Bendy’s hand slip out of her own.

Panicking, she broke free of the crowd and looked around frantically and the crowds streamed here and there nearby, hoping to glimpse the cartoonish imp at any moment. But she couldn’t see him. It seemed that Bendy and Inky had been carried away among the throng, or maybe worse. Perhaps they had been grabbed.

What seemed hundreds of fearful thoughts along the same lines ran through her mind as she searched the area, becoming so blind to everything else that she ran straight into a tall figure coming around the Spook-a-Rama. A figure that, as she toppled backwards, reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders to right her.

It was Mr. Connor.

***

Bendy and Inky had indeed been pulled away by the crowds, and then amid the confusion, the only thing Bendy could think about was breaking free and finding Audrey. “There,” Inky gurgled. “See that sweets stand? Leap for it.”

Following directions, Bendy leapt between the legs of the crowd and nearly colliding with a stand selling cotton candy. He glanced around, trembling a little, and stared at all the people. He began to whistle, but then remember what Audrey had said about drawing attention to themselves. And that Thomas Connor or his scary assistant were nearby.

“You should have held onto her hand tighter,” Inky growled. “Now she’s lost.”

Bendy sighed, trying to think of what Audrey would do in this situation. It was hard when everyone towered around them. About the only thing that acted as a landmark was…

He peered up towards the Deno’s Wonder Wheel, and then made his way purposefully towards it, hiding between booths, in the shadows of rides, and using all the subtle survival techniques he hadn’t really needed to make much use of since going to live with Audrey.

The thought of Audrey out there, of getting lost from her, was enough to make him tear up.

“Hey, don’t cry!” Inky snarled. “Do you think that will help us find her any easier?”

Bendy shook his head.

“Then stop being a scaredy-cat and keep moving.”

This prodding was enough to keep Bendy’s feet moving, although he did take a moment to write in his notebook and show it to the mirror, “I was not the one who squealed on the spooky ride.”

“Oh, be quiet,” Inky wheezed, “it just caught me off-guard. That’s all.” His wheezing and gurgling were noticeable, although it was clear he was working hard to calm down. “We will find her,” he rasped.

Bendy nodded and pressed onwards.

***

“Please don’t scream, and don’t run,” Mr. Connor said, which sounded like the exact opposite of what anyone in Audrey’s position should have done. But there was something in that worn old face, even though it was still stern, that made her pause.

“What do you want?” Audrey said as the workman released her. She backed a step, ready to rush off if he made a move against her. “I need to go.”

“You don’t know what you’re messing with,” Mr. Connor replied, and before she could respond, he pressed on, “I’ll bet you thought you happened to come across a cute little cartoon character, but you’re wrong.”

Now Audrey was confused. “What are you talking about?” She had the general gist, but still, it seemed like an oversimplification of their situation.

“Don’t pretend to be ignorant.” Mr. Connor seemed to be getting angrier, although it was a little hard to tell with him. “I saw you that one morning with it.”

Was he referring to Bendy? Or Inky?

“Er. I really don’t know what you mean,” Audrey said, and it was basically true. The comment about her just happening to come across a cute cartoon character had some truth, but there were certain facts that seemed to be missing from it, and a flare of indignance welled up inside her. She straightened, meeting his gaze with a glare. “What did you tell Mr. Arch about Wilson? Wilson disappeared months ago.”

Mr. Connor appeared a bit surprised at the change in the direction of their conversation, but he replied, “I told him that Wilson had been killed by The Machine down in the exhibition hall. He didn’t believe me. He said his estranged son had disappeared almost a year ago, while Mr. Arch was still going through the negotiations for acquiring Mr. Joey Drew’s estate, and the legal battles.” The workman frowned.

Almost a year ago? Audrey tried to think. There had been the recording from Wilson that she had found about things getting moved around, like The Ink Machine, which as Mr. Connor had said would have taken some time to do. Legal battles could go on for months on end.

Then she tried to think of how often she had actually seen Wilson at the studio. She had always had the vague impression of him as the late-night janitor who, now that she really thought about it, had never seemed to have been missed by people like Mrs. Fern or Harvey. Sometimes a few of the other animators would see him pass through the animation department late at night, but they had never thought much of it—which possibly explained why he hadn’t been such a huge shock to Marge or Andrew. They had just taken him for granted.

The implications sent a shudder through her.

“Listen to me,” Mr. Connor said, apparently believing he was making progress. “You have no idea how dangerous that machine can be. The best thing to do is turn it over to Gent immediately, and that little demon as well. It’s for your own good.”

Up until this point, Audrey had still felt frightened by this tall old workman from Gent, a business that had devastated so many people. But, for some reason, his ‘It’s for your own good’ comment snapped something inside her. She took a step towards him. “No, Mr. Connor, you are the one who doesn’t understand. You don’t understand anything about The Ink Machine or the sweet little guy who is with me right now.”

“I built that machine, and it was taken from me by Joey Drew. It is mine. You don't know how much I've sacrificed for it.” There was such darkness in that gaze, but Audrey had peered into darkness before. Very deep into darkness, in fact--and a story came to mind.

Some of the fury inside her ebbed. Audrey peered into his eyes and asked, “Like your wife?”

Mr. Connor drew back at this statement. Almost as if she had slapped him. Apparently, he hadn’t remembered telling Audrey and Andrew that part of the story about The Spring of Dreams. About the man who had lost everything to the creation of a device that could use its special contents.

“Please, just leave us alone,” Audrey begged him quietly. “Whatever happened in the past… it’s over. You need to move on, Mr. Connor.” Then she turned and slipped away into the crowds.

***

They reached Deno’s Wonder Wheel, or at least the section out in front of it, with Bendy trembling and Inky lightly wheezing. Bendy scanned the area but didn’t see any signs of Audrey. He whistled sadly as he approached a bench opposite the Ferris Wheel.

“What did you think?” Inky rasped. “That Audrey would magically appear?”

Bendy kept searching the group, and despite more grumbles from Inky, he could feel the tears welling up in his eyes again. Even though he kept trying to tell himself to be strong and brave.

Then, from the bench, came an old woman’s voice. “Oh, hello little one, where did you spring from?” Bendy peered over and saw wizened-haired woman with spectacles and in a shawl. Her wrinkled face wrinkled further into a quiet smile as she asked, “Are you lost?”

Bendy sniffed, which seemed to say it all.

“You poor thing,” the old woman said. “Here,” she patted the bench beside her, “how about you stay here for a while? My husband should be back in a moment. He went to get us some ice cream while our daughter and our granddaughter ride the Ferris Wheel, but then we can go and contact someone to look for your parents.”

She seemed nice, and so Bendy crawled onto the bench and gazed at the ride. He kept looking at the crowds too, not only for Audrey, but in case Thomas Connor or that other figure happened to appear. A question did come to mind, though.

“My husband is a wonderful man,” the old woman said. “He’s as sweet now as he was back when we were courting. He grew up here in New York, you know.” Even though Bendy did not know, as a matter of fact, he stayed quiet and listened. And Inky, for a change, seemed to do the same. “Co-founded a cartoon studio, in fact—although you might not have heard about it, given your age.”

The old woman seemed to have decided Bendy was quite young, and in some ways, she wasn’t really that wrong. Bendy swung his legs gently in the air as she pressed on, “But things didn’t go so well, so he left, and we wound up moving all the way over to the West Coast, where he started another animation studio.” She smiled. “He’s a bit more popular over in the west, but you might have heard of Vista Pictures. And he has a cute little cat mascot with a bowtie and everything, named Kenny the Cat. Always said it was based on a lost idea of his.”

Another animation studio? Bendy whistled gently, blown away by the thought that more than one animation studio could exist in the world.

“Benny!”

The name rang through the air, and Bendy instantly perked up and turned his head.

Audrey had appeared from among the crowds.

“Audrey!” Inky exclaimed, and in his mind, Bendy shouted the same thing. He slid off the bench and dashed across the intervening space, whistling in relief, as Audrey dropped to her knees and swept him up in a huge hug.

“Oh, I’m so happy you’re all right,” Audrey said, as Bendy squeezed her tight.

“Where were you?” Inky snapped. “What happened?” Despite the sharpness of the questions, though, Audrey could tell Inky was just as happy to see her as Bendy.

“I bumped into Mr. Connor.”

“Did he harm you?” Inky growled low in his throat with sudden ferocity.

Audrey stroked the back of Bendy’s head, imagining Inky’s head as well as she said, “I’m okay. Nothing happened, although I do think we’ve had enough excitement for one day. How about we head back home?”

Bendy nodded, but he did pull out a notebook. “We spoke to an old woman. Her husband works in animation too.” He pointed, and Audrey looked—and froze. And even Bendy and Inky made faint incredulous noises.

A man was walking up to the bench, holding two ice cream cones.

He was a stranger to Audrey.

But she still knew him, even if he had silver hair now and a bit of a beard.

“Grandma Stein!” A pigtailed girl in a pink dress shouted, followed by her mother, sandy-haired and laughing. “Did you see us? We went up so high.” The child was about six years old. “I didn’t cry.”

“Yes, you were very brave, Clara,” Henry Stein said. He handed one ice cream to his wife, and then handed another one down to his granddaughter. “Here is your reward.”

Audrey, Bendy, and Inky watched the happy family, and walked away from the scene in silence. Of all the things they might have expected to come across today, such a gathering was one of the most unexpected. And Audrey smiled as they headed home to their own home.

“So, what did you think of the ride?” she eventually asked.

Bendy wrote in his notebook, “The special effects were scary, but I was more scared of the monster at the end. The one we ran away from.”

“It was too short,” Inky rasped.

“Sorry, but from what I could see, we wouldn’t have been on the ride for much longer anyway,” Audrey said. “I don’t think it’s supposed to be a long ride. We can try Luna Park next time. It sounds like they have a spooky ride as well, and hopefully we won’t run into anyone too terrible there.”

“If I had Thomas Connor in front of me, I wouldn’t let him scare me off,” Inky grumbled. “I would make him cower in fear of ever challenging us. That is, if I could appear in my full form in this world.”

“I’m sure you would,” Audrey soothed him. Then she asked, “Inky, why can’t you come out when you’re here? I mean, you would cause an even greater commotion here in The Real World than in The Ink World, but I’m still wondering why.” She looked at Bendy. “Is it just that you don’t want to let him take over?” But Bendy shrugged his shoulders, apparently unsure of the reason himself.

“Maybe we can ask Henry and the others about it when we visit them shortly,” Audrey said. Because she had already resolved to go there as soon as possible.

The rest of the trip back to the apartment was, thankfully, uneventful—and despite their abrupt departure from Spook-a-Rama, their conversations brimmed with the wonders they had enjoyed earlier in the day, alongside promises from Audrey that they would check out other parts of Coney Island sometime soon.

“You should construct Bendy Land in our realm,” Inky rasped as they had a quiet dinner at home. “I want to ride the rides as myself, and there is a lot of space in The Studio.”

Audrey considered it. There were quite a few projects to work on, it seemed. From adding color to The Ink World, to this suggested addition of an amusement park—although each one would bring the residents a lot of joy, she was sure.

“One thing at a time,” she said, and then went to their room.

She opened the sketch book and wrote, “Hi Henry, we’re going to come for a visit tomorrow, if that’s all right. There are some things I want to talk about with you.”

A short while later, Henry replied, “Sure, we’ll be eagerly waiting for you. How was your trip to Coney Island?”

“Amazing,” Audrey wrote, because it had been, even with Mr. Connor showing up. But she did add, “We’ll need to give you the full story we get there, although Bendy and Inky will likely be the ones to tell you most of it. They’ll be there in the morning, while I’ll need to wait until I get off from work.”

“See you then, Audrey.”

“See you, Henry.”

After Audrey slipped into bed, she lay staring up at the ceiling for a while, wondering at coincidences. A part of her had hoped that time with her boss might have been the last time they came across Mr. Connor, but they had seen him fixing rides as part of other work done through Gent. So innocuous.

She sighed and turned over, only to feel a gloved hand gently shake her shoulder.

“Bendy, what’s wrong?” Audrey asked Bendy, who was standing there holding his Fluffy the Bunny toy.

Bendy pulled out his notebook. “I told Fluffy the Bunny about the Spook-a-Rama, and he got scared about having nightmares, so I said you could keep him safe.” He looked at her hopefully, and Audrey smiled, lifting the blanket for Bendy to slip onto the bed beside her.

“Well, I’ll do my very best to protect him,” Audrey said as Bendy snuggled close to her side. “I promise.”

And she would keep that promise, Audrey knew.

No matter what.

Chapter Text

Marge and Andrew looked horrified when Audrey mentioned having encountered Thomas Connor at Coney Island. They were walking to Archgate Films together, with Bendy holding tighter than usual onto Audrey’s hand as if recalling just as easily they had gotten pulled apart amid the crowds at the Deno’s Wonder Wheel Amusement Park.

“Oh, Audrey, you were lucky to have escaped from him!” Marge exclaimed. “All of you were,” she added, glancing down at Bendy, and then over at where Inky was ambling along in the storefront windows.

Andrew gave a bitter laugh. “The one time we’re not around, and that’s when Connor decides to show his face. It’s such a coincidence, I would almost suspect you had been followed to the park.”

Marge gasped, but Inky interrupted them by loudly snorting. “We were fine. It is not like the three of us are helpless. Even Bendy,” and here he sniggered at the cartoonish imp, “can hide from someone as lumbering as Thomas Connor.”

“Besides, I think we did come across Mr. Connor by accident. He didn’t follow us,” Audrey said. “He fixed the Spook-a-Rama ride when it broke down, and I… well, I don’t think he is a bad person. Just sad and broken.”

“How can you say that?” Marge burst out. “He pursued you, Bendy, and Inky to the studio, he tried to get Mr. Arch to turn over The Ink Machine to him, and then he apparently told you to give him not only The Ink Machine, but Bendy and Inky as well.”

Andrew nodded. “You can’t trust anyone from Gent. If there’s one thing that I’ve learned from what I’ve dug up about them, it’s that they would do absolutely anything, and tell the most convincing lies they can, to get their way. And Thomas Connor is a top manager for them.”

Feeling chastised, Audrey decided not to stress how Mr. Connor hadn’t seemed to understand exactly what was going on, including the fact that Audrey had come from The Ink Machine as well. Then she felt Bendy give her hand an extra squeeze. When she gazed at him, he used his free hand to indicate she should smile—which she did. A little bit.

“Once we learn how to bring me out into this realm,” Inky added, “we will have nothing to worry about from this Connor, because I will keep him away from us and The Ink Machine.”

“Do you think it’s possible?” Marge asked. “Inky hasn’t popped out before.”

“I don’t see why not,” Audrey said. “There must be some reason why he hasn’t been able to appear in his full form.”

Andrew, though, shook his head. “Inky here in New York City, as more than a reflection, sounds like a bad idea to me.”

“I will remember you said those words,” Inky growled at him, “and then you will see just how bad an idea it is when I can stand before you, Andrew.”

“Come on, Andrew,” Marge gently nudged him with her elbow, “shouldn’t Inky deserve the chance to interact with this world like Bendy does?”

“The way I understand it, he would loom over us, and can you imagine him trying to wear a disguise and saunter through the city?” Andrew said.

“You make it sound as if I would be so stupid as to let myself be caught that way,” Inky snarled at him.

Andrew whirled towards one of the storefront windows and poked at Inky with his finger. “No, I am only stating one example of what could draw the attention of not only Gent, but the police and a whole bunch of other people.”

Inky sniggered. “Well, at least I am not the one drawing attention to himself by seemingly arguing with a window display.”

It was at this point that Andrew paused and glanced around, only to find he was indeed attracting more than a few concerned and puzzled looks from passersby. One small child, sucking on a lollipop, tugged the treat out of her mouth and asked her mother, “Mommy, why is that man so mad at the mannequin wearing a dress?”

“Don’t stare, sweetie, and it’s not polite to point,” the mother simply replied, although she did make a point of grabbing her child’s hand and speeding past their group and up the street.

Andrew stuck his hands deep into his pockets and remained silent for the rest of the trip to work, while Inky guffawed until Audrey told him to stop.

***

Henry had spent another night at the manor. It was something he had done with increasing frequency since the birthday preparations, and even, if he was honest, since the invasions by Sammy and Alice Angel. Betty had given him a room, in which the mailbox now stood so he could reply to Audrey with greater ease while, admittedly, keeping a closer watch over that line of communication.

He was steeling himself to tell Audrey about Joey, but this information would need to wait until the evening came. Until then, they would have Bendy and Inky running around. And at least they had plenty of things to keep the two demons occupied. There were recipes to teach, piano tunes to play, art to create, and perhaps a trip to Ink Harmony Park to enjoy—because they could take things at a leisurely pace this time.

Tom had already let them all know that if they didn’t come out to Ink Harmony Park, he and Allison might take a break from the community theater construction just so he could come and face off against Inky.

On that note, Tom and Allison had taken to spending more time at the manor as well, and Betty had provided them with their own room. She had even offered it to Buddy, once Henry had taken her aside and remarked the culinary wolf might appreciate the gesture, although Buddy, for his part, appeared to be the happiest bunking out in the backroom of his pizza parlor nowadays.

There was also… well… another big reason why Henry had stuck around the manor so much lately, and as Allison took her turn to prepare a breakfast of bacon and eggs, a quake rattled the pictures—many of them by Henry—on the dining room walls and caused the lights dangling above the table to sway.

“Oh my, the dears have been working throughout the night,” Betty said.

“I know,” Henry replied, having felt the quakes while nestled in bed. They had made him hop about in the chair at the work desk in his room during his short exchange with Audrey, and if he hadn’t gotten so used to the wide variety of clanking noises and shaking sensations from The Studio, some of which had rocked his hammock at odd hours in the safehouse, he might have been unable to sleep.

But because Henry had adjusted to those types of experiences, he felt refreshed and ready to face whatever the day might bring.

“They haven’t joined us for breakfast yet,” Betty continued. “Usually, they pop out of the wall as soon as its ready, or even when one of us calls for them.” Embedded in her statement was the fact Wandering had made more of an effort to join them since the trip inside their mind, and Henry would have been the first to agree it had been nice to see them around in a physical form.

Having them be absent at breakfast now just felt… well, like there was a void in the room.

Clearly sharing the same thoughts, Allison said, “Wandering might have lost track of time or just gotten lost in practicing their abilities. It seems to take a lot of their concentration. However, they do need to take a break. I am all for having a strong work ethic, but they might do themselves more harm than good at this rate.”

“I’ll get them,” Tom said, pushing back his chair.

Henry could imagine Tom striding down to the basement, right into the midst of whatever Wandering was doing, and then hauling them away—just like he had once collected Henry from his bed in the safehouse. It hadn’t exactly been the gentlest experience, although Henry had thanked Tom for doing so later.

Even so, Henry stood. “I’ll go and bring them up. They probably just need someone to remind them breakfast is ready,” he said.

Tom grunted but sat down again to sip his coffee.

***

They could still remember the forest from long ago. The sounds of birds had intermingled with the trickling of the Spring of Dreams, and creatures had emerged from the sheltering wilderness to drink at its waters. What they might have wished for, Wandering could only guess at nowadays, although they liked to think that animals like the deer or badgers had found it easier to raise their young or escape from danger afterwards.

Flickering among these memories, brought to the surface more often since Henry and the others had slipped into their mind, were of course ones from more recent decades. Bits and pieces of cityscapes, lives torn into a collage and scattered, and the tattered good times and tragedies of many, many souls drowned in The Ink. Remembering where they were in time still sometimes eluded them for a while, until other voices would yank them back to a present moment.

On that note, Wandering was aware, far away, of Audrey touching The Ink Machine. They could hear her words echoing through the metal, and through them, with kindness and warmth. “Good morning, Wandering!” she said. “How are you today?

“We are enduring, Audrey,” Wandering wanted to reply, but they knew Audrey wouldn’t have been able to hear them from outside The Ink Machine. Then, thinking of their interactions with Henry and the others, they corrected themselves, “We are okay, Audrey.”

That phrase sounded the most comfortable and normal. They could remember answering many people in a similar way in various past fragments of memories.

“Bendy and Inky are here—” Audrey was saying, but while she spoke about them visiting during the day, and her plans to join everyone in the evening, Wandering became aware of something else. A tangible presence nearby. A physical tapping.

They still weren’t fully used to having a physical form. It felt strange to concentrate themselves in one location rather than be spread throughout The Studio, but the results had been unexpectedly intriguing.

“Hey, Wandering?” a familiar voice echoed in their head. The familiarity tickled at them. Usually, they would know instantly who it was. They would always know. With a physical form, there could be some mystery about other voices right beside them. They could speak with them and be unable to tell exactly what they would say in reply.

They kind of liked that.

“Wandering?” the voice repeated, closer now, as Wandering listened to Audrey talking to others, apparently her friends Marge and Andrew, and heard Bendy whistling in reply to something they had said, while Inky guffawed. They had never heard The Ink Demon guffaw before Audrey came.

At the same time as they were listening to all these voices, Wandering was also, of course, moving things around in the basement. It had been very kind of Betty to give them that space to experiment, even if they could tell these experiments caused vibrations throughout the rest of the manor. But none of the others had seemed annoyed by their efforts. If anything, Wandering had heard strains of conversations during the past several days about being happy for them, and at having them around.

The basement had taken a lot of work. It was a strain to call upon powers and seek to control them, to shift around objects in that sizable space, pull out shapes from The Ink and into the rooms, and to fix up cracks. Wandering could apparently do all these things when they focused just right, and whenever they became too tired, they could retreat into the walls again for a short while—although then they would soon find themselves practicing similar abilities without taking a physical form.

Exactly how far they could push the limits of their endurance was an issue. They had never thought about it much before, until Audrey, and then Henry, had stressed them hurting. Pain had been a constant, but there was less of it nowadays, and they could now sense a distinction between peaceful warmth and the discomforting pain.

Ink was hissing in their ears. Their physical form might have been leaking, although Henry had done a great job patching them up, and even Tom had examined them and added some plaster and other things to the breaks.

“Wandering, can you hear me?” This time, the familiar voice shouted, and Wandering blinked, focused now on the present. Henry was grasping them by the shoulders and shaking them gently. He was anxious on their account. They would have apologized for worrying them. Then again, saying things like that seemed to worry him even more sometimes.

“Wandering?” Henry asked again, as the basement snapped into focus. Not for Henry, of course. Only for Wandering. As for Henry, he had probably just walked into the basement and noticed Wandering standing atop a crate and using their abilities to pull cracked wood together into a single solid plank.

“Yes, we can hear you,” they replied.

Henry sighed in relief. “We’re sitting down to breakfast. Allison has made bacon and eggs.” He was studying them, searching for any possible leaks. “How about you take a break and join us?”

“We were working on the basement…” Wandering said, knowing they sounded vague.

“I know, you’re doing a great job down here.” Henry gazed around at the setting. “Actually, you’ve cleared a lot of it away, and I like the way you’ve popped in the carpets and sealed up the walls.”

“Thank you. We would prefer to have made more progress.”

“Don’t underestimate what you’ve done, Wandering,” Henry said. “You’ve done great here, and you deserve to take a bit of a rest. After all, Bendy and Inky should be coming at any time.”

“They are entering The Ink Machine,” Wandering informed him. They pointed to another fixture along the wall, a large dark nozzle, which had taken most of the past several hours to position just right. “We will make them appear from there.”

***

It was a surprise to come out into a different place in The Studio. Bendy gazed around the large, cleared room with carpets scattered across the floor, and blinked in some confusion until he spotted Henry approaching him.

“Good morning, Bendy,” Henry said.

Bendy pulled out his notebook and flipped to a page he had already prepared for this occasion. “Good morning, Henry!!” he’d written, but then he added, “Where are we?”

“This is the basement of the manor. As you can see, it has undergone some changes since the last time you were here.”

Bendy whistled in agreement, raising his gaze towards the second floor. He could still remember the swarms of Butcher Gang Members all over the place. It was impressive just how different the basement could be without all the scary stuff that had been there before.

That was when his pie-cut glance drifted past Henry, and towards a familiar-looking figure atop a crate. He blinked in astonishment.

Audrey had told him about Wandering. She had described how much they resembled him, aside from their eyes and glowing features. The glow wasn’t there anymore, and Wandering appeared distracted while wringing their hands, but Bendy still recognized them. Inky would probably have known them right away.

“Henry, I have to tell you about Coney Island!” Bendy wrote, although he wouldn’t include the part where they had seen the other Henry, even though it was exciting.

Audrey had asked to tell Henry that part of the story, and also the part related to scary Thomas Connor, which was just fine with Bendy. There was still a lot of fun stuff to share, in any case.

“Everyone is upstairs having breakfast right now, and I know they’d like to hear the whole story,” Henry said. Then he frowned a bit. “Bendy, do you see Wandering over there?”

Bendy grinned and gave him a thumbs-up. Of course, he saw them. They seemed nice, albeit so distracted they hadn’t seemed to notice he was there. He looked at Henry, who went on, “Well, they’ve been working very hard to renovate this basement, and they have made a lot of progress.”

Compared to how scary the whole place had been during their last visit, this spaciousness was far more inviting. There was no denying that. Bendy whistled, and the note echoed throughout the area, which was fun.

He squeaked in delight, and Henry smiled.

“You are great at having a good time and helping people to relax,” Henry said.

“I am?” Bendy wrote, his grin growing. He hadn’t realized he was noted for helping people to relax, but he liked the idea. Then again, he had gotten Audrey to smile at least a bit that morning. Pride swelled within him, even though he noted a hint of annoyance from Inky at the back of his mind.

“Yes, you are,” Henry said, “and so I would like to ask you for some help. Wandering has been working so hard that I’m worried they might wear themselves out.”

“You would like us to have fun together, then!” Bendy wrote, and he saluted Henry before adding, “I can get them to relax.”

“Good. Thanks, Bendy.” Henry patted him on the head, and Bendy felt another stab of annoyance from Inky.

Bendy ran over to where Wandering stood atop a crate. He whistled, wrote “Good morning, Wandering!” and waved. But Wandering kept staring off into space. Bendy could hear ink hissing loudly through pieces, which were creaking, at close range. It was like standing right next to The Ink Machine, which from what Audrey had told him was probably true.

A carpet popped up onto the floor.

Bendy stared at it in awe. He wrote, “I didn’t know you could make stuff. That’s neat,” and waved a hand in front of Wandering, who didn’t even seem to register his presence.

“You can see the problem,” Henry said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Wandering has a hard time concentrating on what’s happening at present, and apparently they are having an even harder time right now. Even though they have come a long way as well, just like you and Inky.”

The stab of annoyance at the back of Bendy’s mind intensified. Inky was getting impatient.

And then the swell of ink came.

***

They were being stupid and slow, Inky knew, by just standing there when there was a perfectly good solution to the whole situation. As he emerged from Bendy, pushing the scaredy cat imp to the back of his mind, Inky towered over Wandering and sensed the great ink pressure throughout the basement. The Dark Puddles were whispering of forests, and springs, and building things—on top of all the usual goings on in The Studio. They were quite warm, as warm as being near a fire, and apparently happy.

The Dark Puddles had always been scatterbrained, for justifiable reasons, but at that moment their whispers buzzed like a whole swarm of insects. They were being annoying.

They were also keeping him from enjoying breakfast upstairs in his full form.

He growled.

“Good morning, Inky,” Henry managed, right before his eyes widened. “Wait, what are you doing?”

“Solving the problem,” Inky reached out a hand and grabbed Wandering. He roared right into their face. “You will wake up, and you will pay attention!” His demand rippled through the room and shook up The Ink. Whenever he had called to them over the years, The Dark Puddles had responded to him—as they did now.

Wandering blinked at him. “How can we serve you—” Inky could sense them getting ready to insert a “Great Ink Demon,” or something along those lines.

“Inky,” he snarled. “Call me Inky.”

“Great Inky,” Wandering finished, as Inky scowled at them. “How can we serve you?”

“You can serve me by coming with us to breakfast,” he snapped. “You will fully listen to what I have to say, and perhaps to Bendy as well.” No one could say Inky was uncharitable, or at least he thought so at this point. “And then you will join us in whatever ridiculous activities Henry or the others,” he snorted towards Henry, who was standing there with his mouth hanging slightly open, “might want us to endure. Your collective minds will not wander away. They will stay together, unified. You will be present the whole time in your current shape during our visit. You are Wandering.”

Inky brought Wandering within inches of his face, and there was something satisfying about talking this way to a figure who looked so much like Bendy. “Got it?”

Wandering nodded their head vigorously. “Yes, Great Inky!”

“Just Inky.”

They were nervous. Inky could tell that much when they shouted, “Yes, Just Inky!”

Henry showed himself to be enamored of risking his wrath by touching Inky on the shoulder and saying, “Here, hand them to me, and we’ll go up to breakfast—although I’m sure you’ve probably had breakfast already.”

“I take what opportunities I can to eat with my own mouth,” Inky said, snorting. But he dropped Wandering into Henry’s arms. “Fine. Take them. But remember what I ordered,” this was directed at Wandering, who nodded again.

“We will pay attention,” Wandering said.

Henry sighed as they walked together up from the basement. “Thanks, Inky,” he said. “I appreciated the help, and Bendy’s as well. You made Wandering snap out of it right away.”

Inky could have told him it was just expected. The Dark Puddles had always listened to him, and thankfully, even with all the whispers he had heard, none of them had overwhelmed him as he had once feared they might.

“You just have to know how to talk to them,” Inky grumbled, then sniggered.

***

Audrey was animating a segment of their current cartoon production about a dark shadow pursuing Bendy throughout a town. She knew the original inspiration for the creature had been Inky, so he could enjoy getting represented as pranking and spooking someone. But each time she turned to that dark shadow now, all Audrey could think of was running into Thomas Connor, and his determination to get The Ink Machine, Bendy, and Inky.

Andrew and Marge were right, of course. Gent was a terrible corporation, and they had harmed a lot of people. If Mr. Connor had been there for any length of time, all those atrocities couldn’t have gone unnoticed by him. It even sounded as if he had been involved with The Ink Machine from its early days.

“I built that machine, and it was taken from me by Joey Drew. It is mine,” Mr. Connor had said. He had been obsessed with it, and he had sacrificed a great deal for it. She could still hear that part of his story, where he had related, “He spent so much time trying to make it work, and to claim its wonders for his own, that he neglected what was the most precious to him in his life, including his wife, who eventually left him. Through various incidents, the device was taken away from him, and he couldn’t even get more from the Spring of Dreams, because it had completely dried up. His self-absorption and greed had completely ruined him.”

It was so sad.

He was so sad.

Audrey sighed. She should have felt glad to have something take her mind off the issues with her father—except now it was like a much worse problem had landed in her lap. Joey Drew was in the past, but Mr. Connor and Gent loomed directly ahead of her.

There had a knocking on her ajar office door.

She jerked. “Come in,” Audrey said, and saw Marge quietly step inside. Her expression was solemn. “What is it?”

“I was thinking of our conversation this morning, and I got worried about you,” Marge admitted. “You’ve been quiet since Bendy and Inky went into The Ink Machine, and I know you got rattled by Thomas Connor.” She rubbed her arm.

“It’s fine,” Audrey said. “I…” Then she frowned. “Well, actually, I don’t know what I am, but it’s just that I have this feeling about Mr. Connor. A feeling that if I had the chance to really speak with him, maybe I could straighten everything out.” She held up a hand as Marge opened her mouth. “But I know what you said. It’s too dangerous. Gent is bad news, and the best thing would be to stay as far away from any of them as possible.”

“Andrew and I want you, Bendy, and Inky to be safe, Audrey,” Marge said. “And you’re my best friend. If that Thomas Connor tries to make trouble, well, we’ll—” She fumbled, apparently trying to think of exactly what they might do to defend them, “—we’ll make sure he’s very sorry about it.”

“Thank you, Marge,” Audrey said, with a tweak of a smile.

***

Henry had to admit that his implanted memories from the world outside The Studio about Coney Island were nothing compared to what Inky, and alternatively Bendy, as the two demons switched in-between each other to deliver the story, told everyone around the dining room table. They delivered the tale, starting from riding the subway train there, with great enthusiasm, and were often paused as Allison, Betty, or Henry asked for clarification as to certain parts—such as what happened at the beach, the aquarium, and at the amusement park.

He expected Tom to speak up at some lapse between parts of their account, but the wolf remained quiet, although he did have a certain knowing smile on his lips that Henry could tell was irritating Inky.

Wandering listened in rapt attention as well, and Henry could tell they were not letting their minds wander at all. He had never seen them so focused on the present moment for this long. Even when going to Ink Harmony Park together, there had been moments where Henry had needed to carefully get their attention so they wouldn’t become too distracted.

It was almost surreal to see them hanging onto every word heard from Inky and read from Bendy, and reacting with appropriate wonder at what had happened at Coney Island. But it also brought home how big of an influence Inky still was over them, even after everything they had been through.

“We want to make Bendy Land work as an amusement park,” Inky rasped. “I want to physically ride attractions too, and,” he sniggered, “I want to learn how to appear in my full form in the other realm.”

Everyone looked at each other.

“What?” Inky asked.

Allison was the one to speak up. “Bendy Land sounds like a good idea. There are all those parts deep in The Studio, and Audrey could help bring everything to Ink Harmony Park.”

“We could help too,” Wandering added, sounding meek.

“Audrey and Wandering could help bring everything to Ink Harmony Park,” Allison corrected herself, “and we could start work on it after the community theater. But I’m not sure what we can do about having you appear out in the other world.” She did glance over at Wandering, briefly, but then shook her head as if dismissing a certain thought.

Betty considered it. “I suppose we might need to figure out how Wilson kept you sealed inside Bendy until Audrey came and somehow released you.” She hesitated. “The books in the library, as far as I can tell, don’t hold that kind of information. We would have to go… oh dear…”

“We would need to go down to his laboratory?” Henry asked. It was a place, like the Old Gent Workshop, that none of them had tried to venture into as of yet. But, perhaps they would need to at least take a look.

Betty nodded.

“Sounds like an expedition that we’ll need to go on soon,” Henry said.

Bendy took over at this point. “We also want to bring color to The Studio!” he wrote.

Everyone blinked.

“Color?” Allison asked. “You mean, besides what we have here?”

But Henry, thanks to the same implanted memories, could remember colors. There were such a wide variety of them in the world beyond The Ink machine, but he had gone for such a long time without thinking about them as to almost forget they existed at all.

“Yes,” he said. “They’re beautiful, and such a project would utterly transform The Studio.” He turned to Wandering. “This place has never had those types of colors before. Do you think you could produce them?”

Wandering scratched their head, and tugged at one of their impish horn for several seconds before they said, “We know of colors from our memories, but they are faded. Like old photographs. We would need Audrey to use her sketch book and show us first.”

Bendy beamed. “I’m going to help with the colors too,” he wrote, “and so is Inky.”

“Ah, things are going to stay busy around here,” Betty said with a happy smile, clapping her hands together. “We have so much to do. Oh, yes, and I have a few pastries I’d like to try baking.” She looked at Bendy and Wandering, “I would appreciate the help, and there will also be taste-testing throughout.”

An explosion of ink.

“Oh, you want to help with the baking, Inky?” Betty said. “Wonderful.”

Allison got up. They had pretty much all cleaned their plates. “Tom and I had better head to Ink Harmony Park,” she said. “There is more to do, and I am giving a bit of a performance at the plaza to keep everyone’s spirits up. Sammy says Susie might even join me.”

Inky huffed, looking at Tom’s continued smugness. “Who are you smirking at, wolf? Got something to say?”

There was no way Inky could have known, with this pointed jab, that Tom would calmly reach his feet, slowly push his chair back in at the table, look at him, and growl in his gravelly voice, “It just so happens I have got a lot to say to you, you oversized ink blot.”

If Inky had had visible eyes, Henry was sure they would have been bulging out. As it was, he gave a strangled gasp instead.

“You can speak?” Inky was incredulous.

“Yes, I can talk, and now I can tell you what an overblown ego you’ve got, you grinning gremlin.”

Inky quickly recovered from his initial shock at the insult. He leaned across the table towards Tom. “You must think you are special now, do you?”

“Excuse me,” Betty interjected, “but you’re upsetting the silverware on the table.”

“She is right,” Tom agreed. “Let’s take this outside.”

“Fine.”

Tom walked to the door and opened it, and Inky stalked past him into the hallway.

Inky whirled around. “So, what do you have to say to my face, you—”

Still standing in the dining room, Tom responded by slamming the door.

***

Wandering enjoyed an art lesson alongside Bendy, taught by Henry in the same room as the grand piano in the manor. Baking pastries had been postponed for the time being. After Tom had slammed the door in his face, Inky had burst back in through the door, and the two had half wrestled, half insulted their way down the hallway and into the main foyer, where they had both wound up falling into the fountain at the base of the stairs.

Allison had found the whole display distasteful. She had scolded them both for being so hot-headed, and then she had told Tom she would meet him at Ink Harmony Park. Then she had stalked off, only for Tom to rush after her a moment later.

Sulking, Inky had given way to Bendy, and Wandering had concentrated on fixing the door.

Practicing down in the basement seemed to have benefited them a great deal on that front. The wood came together, and Betty had declared it as good as new.

Bendy had even complimented them by writing, “You’re amazing, Wandering!!”

They had never been complimented by Bendy before, and now they learned the finer points of drawing simple figures, with not only Henry’s guidance, but even Bendy’s help as well. Wandering had had memories of drawing, but then they had left to become Lost Ones, so they needed to learn it again. Exactly which would remember it, though, was something Wandering didn’t know. Or maybe they would actually retain it themselves. It was hard to say for certain.

But there had been a piano lesson with Betty.

Wandering hadn’t quite understood why Bendy, Betty, and Henry appeared so astounded when they played the sheet music for “Maple Leaf Rag,” and then “The Entertainer.” They had had fragmented memories from one of their souls of sitting at a piano and playing, and they could still remember how to read the notes.

Bendy had asked Wandering to play a number of other tunes, and as Wandering did, Bendy had danced about the room, Betty had joined them, and then Henry had danced with Betty. All of them were so happy that Wandering could have continued that way for ages. They were there, in that room. Just them, Wandering, while the rest of The Studio took care of themselves—or itself, maybe.

They stopped suddenly, stunned by the thought.

“Are you okay there?” Henry asked, patting Wandering on the shoulder.

“Yes, we are okay,” Wandering replied, with a shudder.

Betty sat down at the piano. “Here, let me play a song or two. It’s your turn to dance.”

“We have never danced this way,” Wandering said, meaning that they had never danced in this form. They were still a little thrown by being so focused in this one form and location, but they needed to follow what Inky told them to do. They had always heeded him.

Bendy grabbed Wandering by the hand as Betty launched into a fast-paced tune, and Wandering did their best to imitate Bendy’s dance steps, while Henry clapped along.

By the time they started baking, Inky had appeared, and they went through a whole lesson with Betty on making an apple pie. Henry supervised from the dining room, since it was clear that Betty was the only one currently present who could navigate around Inky in that kitchen and give him instructions without having him snarl at them.

Even Wandering, at a certain point, wound up slipping on dropped egg yolks and sliding right out of the kitchen and into Henry’s legs.

“I think we should probably wait this one out together, Wandering,” Henry said, reaching down to lift them up from under the arms and deposit them on the chair next to him. “It’s safer that way.” He smiled. “So, are you having fun?”

“Fun?” Wandering thought about it. The Ink wasn’t hissing so strongly through him, and the pressure wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been for quite a while. “We think so.”

“Make sure you take breaks from now on, all right?” Henry advised them. “It’s been nice to have you around, Wandering.”

“We get distracted a lot,” Wandering said. “Because of all our souls. Because of our memories. It is difficult to stay focused all the time like you.”

“Even with only one soul,” Henry replied, “it’s easy to get distracted sometimes. Stress and getting tired can do that, Wandering.”

Wandering realized then that they were tired. Very tired. It was as if the weariness were waiting to be acknowledged, and their eyelids drooped. The sensation was startling. The first and only time they had done so was when they had reached out to Audrey, and they had fallen asleep on her lap. It had been terrifying. They had never dozed before, but their physical form had apparently needed it.

They were so tired, but Inky had told them to keep this specific form during the length of their visit. Wandering couldn’t simply slip back into the walls.

“Hey, there, Wandering,” Henry said, reached out as Wandering teetered forward, catching them as they dropped off the chair. “It’s okay. Inky and Betty are going to be busy in there for a while, so how about you take a nap?”

“A nap?” Wandering murmured as Henry cradled them in his arms.

“Yeah, just to get your strength back.”

“You won’t let me go?” Wandering, for some reason, experienced a sudden, sharp fear of drifting away. Like they had done with Audrey.

“I won’t let you go,” Henry assured them. “And you’ll come back,” he added, as if guessing at what was going through their head.

And Wandering closed their eyes.

Chapter Text

Marge and Andrew accompanied Audrey down to the exhibition room that evening. “Andrew and I plan to stick around for about an hour,” Marge said over the din of mechanical movement. She had stuck more pencils than usual in frizzy hair, and a few dropped out and onto the floor—which Andrew was quick to collect for her.

Still, it was a sign Audrey had come to recognize as meaning her friend was anxious. Likely for Audrey, this time. “If you haven’t come out of The Ink Machine by then,” Marge continued, “we’ll figure you plan to spend the night there, and we’ll leave.”

“You don’t need to wait for me,” Audrey insisted as they stepped off the elevator. Lights flickered on throughout the exhibition room. “Bendy, Inky, and I will probably spend the night there. There is a lot to discuss with Henry and everyone else, after all.” Besides, the last thing she wanted was to have them wait on her, or to cause them more worry than she had done already. “You should head home.”

Andrew, who had been especially quiet until then, spoke up, “Audrey, are Margie and I… making you uncomfortable? Do you not want us around you so much?”

Marge gasped. “Andrew, what are you say—” she began, only to get cut off by Andrew raising a hand and shooting her a pleading look.

“Please, just hear me out, okay?” Then Andrew turned back to Audrey. “Marge and I started escorting you back and forth from work because we were worried about Thomas Connor accosting you on the way, but really,” he frowned, “we don’t seem to have made much of a difference, and you came across Thomas Connor the very first time we weren’t dogging your every step. And, of course, you were able to handle yourself just fine without us.”

Silence rang through the room as Andrew took a deep breath to compose himself, and Audrey realized with a start how weighed down he had been with his own thoughts throughout the workday.

“I finally realized it when we were going to work this morning, but Margie and I might have unintentionally pushed ourselves on you too much, following you as many places as possible, when you might have wanted more time to yourself.” He rubbed an arm. “So, I wanted to apologize for not thinking about it sooner.”

Audrey stared at Andrew in surprise, and noticed Margie drop her glance in a pinch of embarrassment. Then she smiled. “But it did make a difference,” Audrey said, looking between them. “Bendy and I, and even Inky, have enjoyed those opportunities to be with you guys. We’ve gotten to hang out more, and not simply when walking to and from work. You’re our friends, and you’re the only ones who know about everything. Please don’t stop hanging around with us.”

“Oh, Audrey,” Marge swept forward and hugged her. “We just want to help you in any possible way, but we will totally back off whenever you need us to.” Another pencil fell out of her hair and rolled across the floor, although no one so much as glanced at it. “Be safe, all right, and wish Bendy and Inky goodnight from us.”

“Of course,” Audrey said. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow, and all of us can walk home together. Not as an escort, but just friends.”

Andrew smiled as well, clearly relaxing. “Sure. We’ll see you then, Audrey.”

Strolling to The Ink Machine, Audrey could feel a grin spreading her features that might just compete with Bendy’s characteristic one. It was nice to have wonderful friends who she could count on, and there were more of them waiting in The Ink World. Her second home.

“Hi, Wandering,” she patted The Ink Machine. “I’m ready to come for a visit.”

There came a gurgling from the nozzle, and a rush of ink, and then Audrey got swept away into another world.

***

Audrey had come to expect certain things when entering The Ink World.

She had expected, for instance, to get ejected onto the first floor where Henry would greet her, likely accompanied by Bendy and Inky, even if it was still under repairs. There was a comfort found in having such stability, and in knowing what was just on the other side of the nozzle. When she slipped out onto the floor of a sizable area amid a dance party, she froze in astonishment.

Carpets lay scattered across the spacious location, and the large phonograph set atop a stand nearby was recognizable as the one from Sammy, used at their birthday celebrations. It was playing a soft, jazzy tune. There were what appeared to be transparent specks of light swirling about each other like misty fireflies, mostly overhead in the gap between the edges of the second landing.

Dancing among them and to the music, however, were familiar faces. Tom and Allison moved together with practiced ease. Henry and Betty were doing the same at a bit of a distance, although Audrey did notice Henry was wearing something of a sling, which kept a small, sleeping form firmly in place on his back, gloved hands dangling over his shoulders.

At first, she almost mistook the figure for Bendy—until a long, thin claw tapped her on the shoulder from behind. Audrey jumped, and Inky snickered. He fully emerged from the wall.

“Surprised you, didn’t I?” Inky rasped, his grimace widening.

Audrey sighed. “I guess I should admit it, so yes.” She gestured at the setting. “Where are we? You guys clearly got up to a lot today.”

“We are in the basement of the manor. The Dark Puddles—” Inky growled, apparently considering it “—Wandering did it, and Betty thought the space would make a great temporary dance hall. What an idea.” He snorted gently.

That was when Henry spotted her. “Ah, welcome back, Audrey,” he said, nodding to her. He and Betty paused in their dance and approached. “How was your day?”

“Oh, hmm, just fine,” Audrey murmured quickly, tugged from the wondrous scene before her back into the recollection of the somber workday she’d just been through, filled with heavy thoughts to share, and figuring out the best way to bring them up. “Nothing happened at all.”

The moment the words left her mouth, Audrey knew they could raise suspicions for someone who was really listening to her carefully. And Henry tended to listen very carefully to her… and be observant.

Henry frowned. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Well, okay. There are a couple of things I need to tell you,” Audrey admitted, but she managed to smile. “They can wait until after this party, though. Inky told me about Wandering clearing the basement. But, hmm,” she glanced at the transparent specks of light, “what are those?”

Henry smiled. “Apparently, they’re something that happened when Wandering fell asleep.” He reached back a hand and patted them on the head, and they mumbled something low. “My guess is they’ve never really spent a lot of time actually sleeping this way.”

“The last time they fell asleep, Wandering disappeared,” Audrey said, glad to have the conversation move away from the subject of her workday. “That was back when I got sick, and they told me that they couldn’t hold their form for long.” She stared at them. “It’s kind of impressive they are still here.”

“Inky is responsible for that.” Henry crossed his arms and looked at Inky. “He commanded them to stay in this form during the whole visit, and they actually seem to be enjoying the rest. They did stir just long enough to let me know you were about to enter through The Ink Machine, but then they went right back to sleep.”

Inky huffed. “They were causing quakes and getting too annoying,” he replied, shrugging. “Things are quieter this way. Well, at least they were until this dance party.” He snorted again.

Sensing his irritation, Audrey raised an eyebrow. “Why is that a problem?”

“He refuses to dance.” Betty covered her mouth with a hand to suppress a chuckle.

Inky growled, “I do not dance. Dancing is stupid.”

“You mean you don’t know how to dance,” Audrey said. “It’s not stupid.”

“I don’t see what is so special about it.” Inky huffed. “Bendy does it, and it is ridiculous.”

Betty smiled. “How about you just watch for a little longer, then? Since Audrey is here, I’m sure she would also like to join in the fun after such a busy day and… Oh—” she said, watching Audrey drop her gaze and look sheepish. “Oh my, I didn’t mean to assume.”

“Bendy showed me a few simple tapdancing steps,” Audrey said. “But the truth is that I haven’t really danced much at all.” She glanced towards Allison and Tom, who engrossed as they were in their own dance, spotted and acknowledged her with a nod. “But it does look like fun.”

Henry considered it. “Well then, Audrey, let me give you a brief lesson. You’ll pick it up quickly. May I have this dance?” He held out a hand, and Audrey carefully took it.

Meanwhile, Betty grabbed ahold of Inky’s wrist and gently tugged it. “I think you could use a lesson as well, Inky. At least give it a try.”

“But I don’t dance,” Inky grumbled.

“Wouldn’t you enjoy dancing with Audrey like Bendy has?” Betty asked him. “I find dancing is a great way relieve stress and boost spirits.”

As Henry led Audrey further out into the room, she noticed Inky gazing after her for a long moment while Betty continued to tug at his wrist encouragingly. Then he finally grumbled, “Fine. I will dance, but I won’t like it.”

“Wonderful,” Betty declared. “Let us get this lesson underway, then.”

Meanwhile, Henry helped Audrey with the placement of her arms and slowly brought her through a few simple steps. “There you go,” he said as they moved back and forth. “That’s right. Even though it’s simple, it’s still a dance.”

“Where did you learn to dance?” Audrey asked.

“Believe it or not, the memories implanted in my head do come in handy sometimes.” Henry took her through a slow twirl. “The Henry Stein outside The Ink Machine used to enjoy going out dancing with his wife Linda during the few occasions when he had a free evening. He also loved tapdancing, even though he could never master it himself.”

“Is that why Bendy is a ‘dancing demon,’ with an emphasis on tapdancing?”

Henry chuckled. “Quite possibly.”

The mention of Henry Stein from The Real World made her remember their sighting of him and his family at Coney Island. “Bendy and Inky talked about our trip, right?”

“They were very excited about it. Shared it with everyone while we were having breakfast, in fact. Sounds like you all had a great time.” He nodded approvingly. “Which you more than deserved, after everything you have gone through. I know you’ve had a lot on your mind lately, especially when it comes to people from the past.”

“Speaking of people from the past, Henry…” Audrey hesitated, unsure if she should bring up the subject at this time. She didn’t want to spoil the fun everyone was clearly having, and she had no way of knowing how Henry would react to hearing about his Real-World counterpart. “I saw him. I know he’s around, that is, and I wanted to talk to you about him.”

They paused. Audrey wasn’t sure if she had been the one to stop, or if Henry had.

“You have?” Henry asked, a flash of panic crossing his features.

Audrey nodded. “I mean, it stood to reason he was in the world somewhere,” she said. “But now I know he’s alive and well.”

“How long have you known?”

“Since the other day.”

“Why didn’t you say anything about him in our written exchange yesterday evening?”

She had upset him. Audrey could tell that much. His expression had suddenly grown far more guarded and cautious, and she knew her slip of the tongue had disturbed his fun. Meanwhile, across the way, Betty kept Inky occupied with learning to dance a simple two-step, like what Henry had taught her—while Tom and Allison continued their own slow dance.

“I wanted to wait until we came for a visit, so I could talk about him with you directly. And in case you’re wondering, I asked Bendy and Inky to let me be the one to tell you,” Audrey continued.

Henry sighed. “I must commend their willpower, especially when it comes to Inky. I thought he would be unable to restrain himself.”

“Oh, Inky didn’t really care much about him,” Audrey said.

Now Henry appeared surprised. “He didn’t? I find that hard to believe.”

“It was Bendy who was the most excited to see him and his family, although I was very surprised too.”

Another pause. Complete astonishment broke out on Henry’s face. He spoke his next question slowly and carefully, “Who are you talking about, Audrey?”

“Henry Stein, of course. The Henry Stein from The Real World. He was there at the amusement park we went to on Coney Island with Linda, his daughter, and his granddaughter. I just didn’t know how to—”

A released breath of relief made her trail off. Henry had flopped down onto a crate, looking like he had just avoided nearly falling into a deep chasm. He looked so… relieved. “Oh, Audrey, is that what’s been worrying you since yesterday?”

“Well, I—” Audrey bit her bottom lip. Telling Henry about The Real-World version of Henry Stein had been one of the issues troubling her, but it was only one among several other problems. “You’re taking this much better than I thought you would,” she murmured. “I thought it might be kind of… well…”

“What, depressing for me?” Henry suggested. “Or frustrating? Here, Audrey, take a seat for a second and calm down.” He patted a crate next to his, and she sat down. She took a deep breath, and then released it.

Then Henry said, “Listen, Audrey, I have had a long time to come to terms with who I am now, and the person who inspired my creation—as terrible as the reasons behind that creation may have been. I spent countless Cycles believing I was the one and only Henry Stein, who had somehow gotten trapped by Joey Drew in a nightmarish version of Joey Drew Studios, until I learned during one Cycle that I had always existed here in The Studio, and that Joey Drew had just wanted to torture his old business partner, even if only as a replica.”

He chuckled then, but it was a dry, brittle chuckle. “I went through a lot of emotions while locked away by the Keepers, Audrey. From fury at Joey Drew for his actions, and to even frustration at Henry Stein himself—despite the fact he wasn’t to blame. And even when this Cycle started, I struggled to come to terms with my actual identity in what seemed to be a never-ending nightmare.”

Henry laid a hand on her shoulder. “The thing is that The Studio isn’t the nightmare it was back when Joey Drew was in charge. You have helped to make things better for everyone here. You made me believe a brighter future was worth fighting for—and look where we are now.” He nodded to the basement at large, with their friends dancing or learning to dance. “I used to be all alone, but now I’m surrounded by wonderful people who care about me. I’ve found a family, in other words, and they’re right here.”

“That’s… really sweet, Henry.” Audrey wiped at her eyes, and Henry offered her a handkerchief. “You sound like a poet.”

“Maybe I ought to give it a try some time,” Henry joked. “In all seriousness, though, I am happy to hear about Henry Stein doing all right.” And when Audrey mentioned what Bendy had discovered about what Henry Stein had been up to since leaving Joey Drew Studios, Henry nodded. “Nice to know he stayed in animation afterwards, although it’d be nice if he got some credit for Bendy, Alice Angel, and Boris the Wolf. He probably still thinks about them sometimes.”

Audrey considered it. “Well, I guess I could bring it up with my boss, Mr. Arch. He’s very understanding, and I’m sure he would love to hear about Henry Stein.” Then she paused. “Say, Henry? You didn’t realize I was talking about Henry Stein at first.”

The smile dropped from Henry’s face.

Something about that concerned Audrey. “Who did you think I was talking about?”

Henry sighed. “I’ll tell you a bit later, Audrey. Besides,” he turned, “I think you’re needed elsewhere.”

Indeed, Inky had ambled over. “Audrey, may I—” he rasped, but paused and glanced back at Betty, irritated. “Do I have to say it that way?”

“Oh yes, Inky,” Betty encouraged him. “Audrey will like it.”

Audrey could feel a smile getting ready to spread her features again at Inky’s apparent embarrassment, but she struggled to keep her face as neutral as possible as he grumbled, “May I have this dance?”

“Of course, you can.” Audrey placed her hand in his outstretched claw. “We can both practice what we’ve learned.”

“We can see which one of us looks more ridiculous,” Inky rasped.

Even so, as they walked away, Audrey gazed back over her shoulder at Henry, wondering who he would tell her about later.

***

Despite some false starts, where Inky almost trod on her foot with one of his hooves, and Audrey nearly slipped, they managed to dance just fine. Inky snorted. “This dance is too slow,” he grumbled. “I can go faster.”

“Not everything has to be a race,” Audrey said. “This is kind of nice.”

“It is making you happy?”

“Yes.” She smiled.

Inky huffed. “I guess we can do it for a bit longer, then.” They swirled across the floor, moving side to side as soft phonograph music continued to play. Inky was leading, which meant Audrey got partially pulled along, even though it was done gently enough.

They swept past full-length mirrors set along one wall, in which Audrey danced in her reflection with Bendy instead. Of course, in these mirrors, Bendy stood on tiptoe to attain greater height, but he was clearly enjoying himself.

He waved at her, and Audrey waved back.

Then they collided with Tom and Allison. Inky had glanced down once again to make sure he wasn’t about to step on Audrey’s foot and went crashing right into Tom.

Allison looked surprised, but Tom whirled on Inky. He barked out, “You did that intentionally, you overgrown—”

Audrey gasped so sharply that Tom paused to look at her. And for one moment, with the sternness still lingering there on his face, all she could think of was Thomas Connor standing in front of her at the amusement park.

“You can speak?” she murmured.

“That’s right,” Allison said, stepping between Tom and Inky as if to encourage them to back off from each other, even as she kept the focus of her attention on Audrey. “You haven’t gotten to hear Tom speak yet.”

Tom crossed his arms. “I gained the ability only recently.” His gravelly voice was gentler but still very much like the one Audrey had heard tell her to turn over The Ink Machine. It was surreal, and something of her consternation must have shown on her face, because Tom’s brows furrowed. “It’s a long story.”

“Perhaps we’d best adjourn to the parlor and get as comfortable as possible,” Betty said. She switched off the phonograph.

Wandering stirred, and the transparent lights disappeared. They stretched.

“Well, look who is up,” Henry said. “How are you feeling?”

“We feel rested.” Wandering sounded astonished. “We feel very well rested, and we are still here.” They looked around and cocked their head at the sudden silence. “What have we missed?”

***

They exchanged stories of their days over tea in the parlor, in addition to a few other accounts. As such, Audrey listened in amazement as Henry explained their trip into the mind of Wandering, and the way Tom had gained his voice by dipping his fingers into the Spring of Dreams found there, and what events had followed afterwards there at the manor.

“So, The Spring of Dreams is an actual place,” Audrey murmured, leaning back against the couch cushions. Inky had given way to Bendy, and the cartoonish imp leaned against her. When Thomas Connor had told Andrew and her the story of it at the museum, it had sounded like a fairy tale—but having met the workman afterwards, and knowing who he was, it made more sense for everything he had said to be painfully literal. Without any flourishes.

Everyone heard the knowing in her voice and turned to look at her. “You knew about The Spring of Dreams, Audrey?” Allison asked.

“There was some artwork of The Spring of Dreams at the art museum in New York,” Audrey explained, and I heard the story about it granting wishes. “But I didn’t realize it still existed. In the story I heard, it had been drained and changed.”

“It was,” Wandering spoke up. “We were.” They tapped their gloved fingers together. “Now we are The Dark Puddles, The Ink Machine, and Wandering.”

From a mirror hung nearby, Inky huffed. “A spring to grant wishes, and you chose to give Tom the ability to speak?”

“Be nice, Inky,” Audrey said. “It is a surprise, though. Did you always have the Spring in your mind?”

Wandering shook their head. “We did not remember it very well until this Cycle. Until we started to feel warm. The warmth is like the sunlight coming through the treetops.” They gazed upwards, as if they could imagine the scene. “It feels like life progressing.”

“All I can think is that because so much has improved in The Ink World, Wandering has regained their memories of being The Spring of Dreams,” Henry said.

“But if they were just memories of the Spring of Dreams, how did Wandering grant Tom’s wish to speak?” Audrey asked.

“Some of the power from that Spring has returned,” Wandering said. “We are remembering what we were like before we were also all the voices.”

“Does that mean some of The Ink is reverting?” This came from Betty. She sounded awestruck.

Wandering said, “We will never be the same, but we remember granting wishes.” They frowned slightly. “Granting Tom’s wish was very tiring. We cannot grant another one right away, as we once could. Even though we feel well rested right now.”

“Then why did you do it?” Inky grumbled.

“Tom wanted to speak badly, and he has a good heart,” Wandering responded right away. “He wanted the ability to speak with Allison.”

Allison patted Tom affectionately on the snout, “Aww, you big softie, I could already understand you perfectly,” she said, and a bit of a blush rose to Tom’s cheeks. “But I appreciate that you would think of me.”

Bendy tugged at Audrey’s arm. He wrote in his notebook and showed it to her, “Does Thomas Connor have a good heart too?”

Audrey stared at the question. She sighed and patted Bendy between the horns. Then she turned to everyone and told them about Thomas Connor. As her friends listened to the account of their encounters with him, including her conversation with him at Coney Island, various emotions flickered across their faces—from bewilderment, to anger, to sympathy for Audrey, among many other things. By the end, all of them had fallen into grave silence while Bendy hugged her arm and Inky growled.

Henry reached his feet. “I knew Gent wouldn’t let it rest,” he snapped at the world in general. “They still want The Ink Machine.”

“But if Audrey legally owns The Ink Machine, what can they do?” Betty asked. “It belongs to, as she said, all of us now. Or—” she paused, glancing at Wandering “—I guess what I should say is they belong with us now.”

“Henry is right,” Allison said. “From what Tom and I have heard from recordings and other messages throughout The Studio, Gent is relentless. They may have left their mark in there, but they are still present out there in The Real World.” She turned to Tom. “I don’t know anything about the world out there besides what Audrey and Henry have told us. Do you?”

Tom frowned, his brow furrowing in concentration. “I wish I could, since my double is apparently part of the problem.”

“Only in name, Tom,” Allison said. “Thomas Connor isn’t a wolf like you.”

Inky snorted. “You do have a lack of humor in common,” he grumbled, and then added, as if reluctantly, “But, as much as I hate to admit it, you are preferable to him. And once we figure out how I can appear in my full form out in the other realm, I will scare him off for good.”

“He has Gent behind him,” Allison reminded him.

“They would learn to fear me,” Inky assured her. “We know their tricks.”

“We cannot grant you that wish,” Wandering said. “At least, we cannot right now.”

Henry patted them on the back. “We’re not asking you to, Wandering. It’s something we should learn for ourselves, so we can know what Wilson did. Which means going down to Wilson’s lab.”

The mention of the laboratory seemed to send a collective shudder through them. It was a place filled with less than savory memories, especially for Audrey. She could still remember going down there to meet up with Wilson, only for him to unveil his plans to topple Inky and replaced him with an ink monster. A ink monster that he had intended to supply with Audrey’s soul by grinding her up inside a machine in the lab.

Instead, Wilson had wound up in the machine. To defend herself, Audrey had pushed him, and…

Bendy whistled gently beside her, clearly concerned.

“I’m okay, Bendy,” Audrey said, trying to calm her racing heartbeat. She looked around at the others. “Let’s go.”

***

As they traveled down the winding, narrow stars towards the lab, Audrey tried to stay calm. She had everyone beside her. They could overcome anything.

Even so, she couldn’t help trembling.

Henry seemed to sense her unease. “So, when you did come across the other Henry Stein, was he having a good time with his family?”

“Oh yes,” Audrey said, glad for the distraction. “All of them looked very happy. Henry Stein and Linda were waiting for their daughter and granddaughter, who were riding the Ferris Wheel.”

“You’ll need to include one of those at Bendy Land,” Henry suggested.

“Bendy would love that.”

In response, Bendy grinned widely.

From the other side, Tom leaned over. “The Thomas Connor you were talking about, Audrey—you said his wife, Allison Pendle, left him because of how engrossed he became with The Ink Machine?”

Audrey nodded.

“He didn’t go after her at all and try to patch things up?”

“I don’t know.”

Tom grunted. “The next time you see him, ask him about that,” he said. “If he hasn’t, then call him a coward because his Allison is probably still waiting for him to at least contact her.” He was holding Allison by the hand.

“But you and Allison are different from them,” Audrey pointed out. “How do you know—” Then she saw the expression on both of their faces. Their strong devotion to each other and understanding. “I’ll try, if I can,” she finished, although she did add, “Although I’m not sure how he’ll take it.”

They passed a barrel of Iridescent Ink, and Wandering, riding again in a sling on Henry’s back, murmured, “That ink is peculiar to us.”

“I saw it the last time I came down here,” Audrey said. “It’s colorful, but I don’t know what it is, exactly.”

Wandering crunched up further in the sling as if trying to hide in it. “Wilson used the ink in his experiments. The Keepers had some of that ink inside them, and it is elsewhere too.” They wouldn’t say anything more or clarify as they reached the base of the stairs and entered the laboratory, which indeed looked as if it had gone undisturbed for a long period of time. There was a certain stagnancy about the setting, and dust covered the various tools on the desks along the walls and caked the blueprints and other papers scattered across them.

The first time most of them did was try and wipe away some of the grime to look at the documents.

Audrey turned a corner around a partition in the middle of the room and froze, staring at the tube-like machine into which Wilson had once tried to shove her. Then Bendy squeezed her hand and tugged her gently towards some drawings spread across a counter off to one side. Audrey knew what they were off even before she started wiping off the layers of dust.

A cheery little sailor boy with golden hair, who had a blue crab by his side, struck a coy pose on what was apparently the sandy shores of an island, named on the page as Shipahoy Dudley. Audrey wasn’t sure how Wilson had come to create this character, or if Shipahoy Dudley had even been his original idea.

This character was the one Wilson had wanted to stick her soul inside, as a means to hunt down and triumph over Inky, back when she had only thought or known of him as The Ink Demon. Bendy stared at the picture as well. He wrote in his notebook, “Is Shipahoy Dudley a cartoon character?”

Audrey shook her head. “I don’t think he was ever in any cartoons,” she said. “Wilson probably just wanted a character who looked like they might appear in one.”

Shipahoy Dudley had never appeared as he did in these sketches elsewhere. The only physical version Audrey had encountered of him was an enormous, twisted, crab-like monster with the remains of Wilson wedged into his middle. Audrey had needed to run around, switching off various signal towers that appeared to have boosted the monster’s power.

Iridescent Ink had filled the mutated Shipahoy Dudley and spilled out of cracks all over his body, and there had been Lost Ones filled with the same type of colorful ink as well who had responded to Shipahoy Dudley the same way that so many Lost Ones had responded to Inky when he had called out for them.

“These notes are even worse than the theory books in the library,” Henry declared with a groan. “Most of this language reads like gibberish. I can’t understand a thing.”

Tom had found a blueprint, which he had unrolled on a counter set against one side of the partition—which thankfully hid the tube-like machine from view—and was staring at it with a deep frown on his face. “There’s gibberish here too, but the designs and numbers for the dimensions make sense. It looks like plans to put new attachments onto The Ink Machine.”

Everyone gravitated to him, peering at the blueprint. The design depicted two massive barrels with numerous hoses plugged into The Ink Machine, and an extra wide part placed on its nozzle to greatly widen its opening. Tall signal towers had been set up on their side of it.

“Just what were Wilson and Gent planning?” Audrey whispered among the sudden stillness.

Betty, meanwhile, had continued to study some of the other documents and was comparing them. “Oh my, I don’t believe these texts are in gibberish. They’re in some kind of code.”

Allison perked up. “If so, then there might be a decoder somewhere around here for reference purposes.” She began started searching about the papers to those ends, and Bendy came over to help her.

Wandering, who seemed to have curled further and further in on themselves amid the news of what was on the blueprint, suddenly straightened in alarm. “Henry,” they said, “we forgot, but we remember now.”

“Hmm?” Henry was still studying the blueprint. “What do you remember?”

“We feel him. He’s here,” Wandering persisted.

This remark got Henry’s attention instantly. Audrey noticed the same flicker of panic crossing his features as it had earlier and realized it must be related to who he had wanted to tell her about at the dance party. About someone from the past.

Dread welled inside her, and a sharp suspicion.

She touched Henry’s shoulder. “Henry, do you mean that my fa—”

“Ms. Betty there is right,” the all-too-familiar voice of an older man came from the hallway just beyond the laboratory. “Those documents are in code because Wilson wanted to keep them as top secret as possible. He did so even though he was already in a secure location, with everyone too terrified to come anywhere near here. That’s being overzealous for you.”

Audrey gulped and stepped around the partition. Everyone else followed suit.

A figure paused at the threshold to the hallway and gazed around at them, but then his gaze settled on Audrey. “Good to see you again,” Joey Drew said. “You’re looking lovelier than ever, my daughter.”

Chapter Text

Joey Drew took a deep breath and released it. “Now I know this is an awkward situation, and none of you care much to see me,” his gaze remained focused on Audrey, “but please set aside your grudges, well deserved as they may be, and listen to me for a moment.”

There was a ringing in Audrey’s ears. Seeing the figure who stood at the entrance to the hallway made all the questions and inner torments from the past weeks agitate and swell within her. Here is Joey Drew, a small part of her cried so vengefully it made her shudder, the one responsible for so many people losing their lives and having their souls trapped in The Ink World. The words and images of his cruelty tore at the whimsical memories from her childhood, where her father had smiled as hopefully and kindly as this man did.

Audrey had wondered many times what she would do if she ever confronted by her father again. She had imagined anything from screaming at him about his past crimes to accusing him of only pretending that he ever loved her. What she hadn’t expected was this sudden numbness as all the possibilities she had ever considered collided at once in her mind and made her freeze up like a statute.

“What are you doing here, Joey?” Henry’s voice sounded distant, but the warmth of his hand clasping her shoulder pulled her back. Allison and Tom moved in close to her as well, likely for added comfort and in case she needed support.

Bendy, however, was just standing there. His pie-cut eyes had shrunk considerably.

“I needed to come for the sake of everyone, including my daughter. You need help, and I can provide it,” Joey said, taking another step forward. “Audrey, you remember me from the last Cycle, don’t you? I told you a story and showed you who you were. You are my daughter.”

Of course, Audrey remembered. She had almost forgotten him, to tell the truth. He had come to her while she was stumbling through The Ink World for the first time and had revealed that she was a creation of The Ink Machine…

…just as he was.

“Once there was a bitter, old man who had lost just about everything,” he had related while Audrey had sat in a seat on the first floor and watched illustrations slide across a projector screen. Audrey had pointed out Joey Drew, and his lookalike had continued, “Right. The real Joey Drew.”

Not the real Joey Drew, but a creation made to resemble him.

For some reason, it had been so easy to forget the distinction.

Her father from The Real World was gone.

And here was the Ink-World version of Joey Drew who had been crushed by her own hand when it had been fused with Inky’s hand during the last Cycle.

***

Bendy felt rage and hatred swelling in the back of his mind. He hadn’t felt Inky get so overwhelmed by these frightening emotions since way back when Bendy had first met Audrey. She had accidentally shocked him with her powers, something had unlocked within him, and he had become aware of someone else in his mind. A much darker, older, resentful someone who viewed Bendy as nothing more than a vessel to burst free from at the first opportunity—as he had right after Bendy had fled into a grate in the wall.

It had been almost as terrifying as his earliest memories.

A lot had changed since then. Inky was much nicer. They were family.

But now Inky was pushing forward again, ready to burst free, and Bendy knew he fully intended to take out the full extent of his wrath on Joey Drew. Right in front of Audrey, who looked so fragile and torn. Everything seemed ready to explode on them. In the slowed seconds that followed, he heard Audrey murmur, “That’s not Joey Drew. He’s the one who helped me,” and he noticed Henry hand off Wandering to Betty and move towards Joey.

Bendy didn’t want Inky to get consumed by hatred and start tearing people apart again in a maddened frenzy. He didn’t want to be a part of that.

A vague memory had come to mind from the last Cycle of this Joey. From somewhere amid The Ink and all the other voices and more in the fused form of Inky, Audrey, and himself, Bendy could recall the Joey Drew in front of them pleading that they didn’t “need to be this way anymore,” and Audrey’s horrified scream as Inky had driven their hand to crush and toss Joey Drew’s limb body into a pool of ink.

Bendy hadn’t wanted to ever hear Audrey scream like that again.

He just wanted to protect her.

No matter what.

He had promised her.

***

It was the worst possible timing. Henry couldn’t understand why Joey would throw himself into this kind of situation, aside from feeling he had nothing left to lose after their encounter in the sewers. The way they had parted had been abrupt and emotionally charged. He had left Joey cowering on the floor near the decimated tombstone of the actual Joey Drew and had put off facing him again, presumably on a calmer, one-on-one basis, for days. Until now.

If he had mustered up the courage to go back to the sewers, maybe they wouldn’t be in this tense standoff now.

Then the heartbeats started, the laboratory filled with veins of ink, and a chill jolted right down his spine.

Henry cursed under his breath and turned to look at Bendy, swelling upwards on a burst of ink—but there was something unnerving about the process. He had gotten used to Bendy getting enveloped by ink and transitioning rapidly into Inky, but this time the shifting form twisted about, crackled like bones, and held onto itself in quite a painful way.

“What’s happening to them?” This was Audrey. The transformation had apparently snapped her out of the shock brought on by Joey’s appearance.

The inky form reached out one hand, still with a glove like the kind Bendy wore, and another one that looked more like a dark hand. He was skeletal. He was not as large and clawed as the full form of Inky, but much taller than Bendy. He looked, in fact, exactly like the Ink Demon who Henry had known for so many Cycles, with a face partially covered in dripping ink and a wide, pained, flickering grin. However, this version was holding himself and twisted about as ink swelled up and features continued to shift around, and the one completely inked hand flailed towards Joey as if trying to claw at him from even this distance.

“Bendy’s struggling against him,” Henry murmured, realization dawning. “He’s trying to keep from transforming into Inky.” He hadn’t even known it was possible for Bendy to push back against Inky in that way, and while it was clearly a losing contest, it was still actually in process.

Audrey pulled away from Allison and Tom. She ran for them. “Bendy, Inky, you need to—”

There was an explosion of ink, and Audrey went flying back at the force of it.

Henry flowed over to catch her, and they went crashing onto the floor.

Bendy had lost.

Standing in his full form was Inky, snarling and wheezing and gurgling. Joey took his opportunity to turn and run up the hallway. Meanwhile, Inky turned to scowl at everyone, but the scowl and his growls softened as he gazed at Audrey laying in Henry’s arms, her eyes closed. She was groaning softly after the eruption.

Inky leaned in. “Audrey?” he wheezed, reaching out with the edge of his clawed fingers towards her.

“She’s all right,” Henry assured him. “She will probably come around in a minute.”

“You stay here with Audrey,” Inky hissed, wheezing. Steam from his warmed breath was coming from between his teeth. “I will deal with Joey.” The heartbeats sounded at a faster pace.

Henry took a breath to compose himself. “Inky, that man we saw was not the real Joey Drew. He was—”

“Do you think I care, Henry? Joey Drew is Joey Drew, and I will not tolerate him staining our realm any longer, and causing us problems,” he growled in Henry’s face, and then whirled on Betty. But his attention was not on her. “You, Wandering, close the way behind me and keep it sealed until I return.”

Wandering shuddered at being addressed so forcefully, before nodding their head at the command.

Henry groaned.

Allison and Tom stepped between Inky and the hallway. “Inky,” Allison said, holding up her hands, “you’re not thinking clearly. We need to settle down for a moment and—”

“He is getting away. Out of my way!” Inky snarled, shoving them aside as he tore for the hallway. The door slammed shut behind him.

***

Inky rampaged up the hallway. He could smell Joey reeking from the room further ahead. Heartbeats echoed through the air, and ink pulsed about him. Voices didn’t fill his head the same way they had for most of his existence, but the one that did was annoying and came from Bendy.

“Shut up, will you? You are making things much harder than they should be,” Inky growled aloud.

Bendy relayed, in his own thoughts, that it was Inky who was making things harder. And Inky realized then, with a bit of further irritation, just how clearly the words had been to him. Before, aside from the instance where their minds had touched when Audrey fell sick, Inky had only detected impressions or feelings from Bendy. His younger half had always been in the back of his mind, albeit sometimes whistling.

Was it because of the way they had struggled with each other?

Inky grumbled. “I’m doing it for Audrey’s sake too, you know,” he snapped. “Joey Drew has hurt her, but I am more powerful than him. I will stamp out his memory, once and for all.”

“Audrey wouldn’t like it,” Bendy said. Now Inky clearly heard the words in his head. “She would not want you to be filled with hate and anger.”

“Don’t tell me what she wouldn’t want!” Inky thundered. “I know. But I also meant it when I said hate didn’t suit her. Haven’t you noticed how conflicted Audrey has gotten about Joey Drew? You saw how she was back in the lab.”

“We were the ones who knocked her out,” Bendy said. “We left her.”

“Only because you put up a fight. It…” Inky hesitated for a moment. “It was an accident. Besides, she is with our friends, or don’t you trust them to take care of her for a while?” It was a low blow, but they were almost to the room ahead, and Inky could have done without being accused of leaving Audrey behind. As for the others, they didn’t have nearly as personal a claim on Joey’s fate as Inky did.

“Bendy, Joey Drew is a monster, and he always has been,” Inky went on, “so I must be the stronger monster and defeat him.”

“You’re not a monster, Inky,” Bendy said.

“Of course, I am. I identify with monsters because I am one myself, or have you forgotten all those horrible memories you have about me?” Inky sniggered as convincingly as possible, considering how much he was still wheezing. “I am a monster, so I can handle the hatred for all three of us, and by the time we see her again, Audrey will never need to worry about Joey Drew ever again, because I will have taken care of him for her.”

“And for you too?” Bendy asked.

“Be quiet,” Inky grumbled quietly as he listened to the racing heartbeats increase in their rhythms and the thickening veins of ink that pulsed everywhere. It was harder to breathe, and he felt lighthearted. For a moment, he wished Audrey were there despite the situation. She had a way of helping him to calm down.

Inky entered a sizable, all-too-familiar room. At the far end was a pool of ink with a duplicate of The Ink Machine resting in a nook high on the wall behind it. Inactive signal towers lined either side of the room, and there was an upraised podium at the center with a switch to throw.

Standing right next to the podium, his hand grasping the switch handle, was Joey Drew.

Inky growled.

“As I recall, the last time Audrey was here,” Joey said, “she deactivated these signal towers, and they took heavy damage thanks to Shipahoy Dudley.” He gestured around the room with one hand. “But now we’re in a new Cycle, and it seems these signal towers are all back in working order. All they need is the flip of a switch to get them going again. I don’t want to flip it on you, but I will if needed.”

“You are back to your threats again, then,” Inky rasped, creeping closer inch-by-inch. “They were always your first weapon of choice, right before you got serious, or don’t you remember that?”

Joey sighed. “No, I remember there being threats made due to resentment and cruelty. Most of them, I suspect, are recorded right up here, and I will never be able to get rid of them.” He tapped his brow with a finger. “But you know all about memories that will never go away, don’t you, Inky?”

“Don’t say my name with your filthy lips,” Inky snarled. He could practically feel Bendy quaking within him, pleading for him to calm down. But he didn’t need to calm down. He just needed Joey Drew to be gone.

“The Ink Demon, then?”

“No!”

“Very well, then,” Joey was clearly trying to seem calm and composed, but Inky noticed the way his free hand shook, and the barely suppressed trembling through the rest of him. He was terrified. Terrified right down to his core, as he deserved to be. “You should know that I have wanted to speak with you for a long time now, almost as much as I’ve wanted to speak with Henry or Audrey.”

In the back of his mind, Bendy said, “Ask Joey to tell you why he came to the scary lab.” But the words now sounded as if they came from down a well somewhere, and they quickly got drowned out by all the other things swirling about in his mind.

“Don’t bring Audrey into this, Joey,” Inky snarled, instead.

“Henry said the same thing to me,” Joey said. He gave a thin, little smile. “You care a great deal for her, don’t you? You, Bendy, and the rest, I mean.”

Inky roared at him in response, and he was pleased to see the old man’s knees knock together. He started to circle Joey as well, around the perimeter of the room, and trying not to flinch as he brushed past the signal towers. The moment Joey failed to turn and face him fast enough, or released his grip on that switch handle…

“Let me prove to you that I have valuable information to offer,” Joey said. “For example, do you ever wonder why you came out the way you did from The Ink Machine?”

“I bet you are about to tell me.” Inky sneered and continued to circle Joey. It felt good to make him squirm. He couldn’t go anywhere. He was trapped, just as Inky had been for such a long time.

Joey swallowed. “It was because… The Spring of Dreams was meant to grant the wishes of those who were kind at heart, and it took a great deal of experimentation and modification to get The Ink to do anything for Joey Drew and the contractors from Gent. They got better at it over time, and at creating things even when the intent behind them were less than pure.” He twisted about sharply, having paused for too long as he related the memory and almost let Inky pass behind him while his back was still turned.

“At the time of your creation, however, early on,” Joey persisted, “Joey Drew used a sketch produced with a great deal of love and care from Henry Stein, his former business partner. Had it been Henry Stein who had made the wish and used The Ink Machine, even with its modifications, I suspect you would have come out exactly as envisioned in the concept art. But Joey Drew, as you know, was a cruel man, and so you came out much differently. And for that, I am truly sorry.”

“Too little, too late,” Inky snapped. “Stop talking about it. Anyway, all of that is in the past. I don’t care about that anymore.”

“I think you do,” Joey said. “If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t consider yourself a monster like I... like the real Joey Drew often said you were. You don’t have to be that way anymore. There is always a choice you can—”

“I told you to stop talking about it, Joey!” Somewhere in the back of his mind, Bendy was talking again, pleading with him about being overwhelmed, but the heartbeats and the inky pulsing were getting faster and stronger. Not only was he lightheaded now, but all he wanted to do was fling something, to lash out.

There was something Bendy had wanted him to ask, and which he probably should have, but it was getting lost in the static.

Joey sighed. “Then I will move onto telling you that I can decode those documents in the lab.”

Inky snarled. “Now you are bargaining for your life?”

“No, it is why I risked coming to all of you,” Joey said. “Because those documents detail what went on in many of the Gent experiments, and I can tell you more about why you cannot fully appear outside The Ink Machine. You need me to—”

“We don’t want or need you!”

The static overwhelmed the faint shouts by Bendy in the background, and many other things.

***

“Oh, thank goodness, you’re all right,” Betty exclaimed when Audrey opened her eyes. “You worried us a bit, I should say.”

Audrey groaned. Her head ached, and she blinked in the dazed confusion that can sometimes accompany the journey back into wakefulness. But after sitting up to look around the room, recollection quickly prodded.

“Where are Bendy and Inky?” she asked.

“Well, Inky took his full form and went after Joey.” Betty pointed towards the closed door to the hall, which Tom was trying to open forcefully.

Tom grunted. “Wilson must have had these doors reinforced, and the way their design is…” He backed up and gazed around the room, as if looking for a better clue towards the circuitry behind them.

Meanwhile, Henry and Allison were standing in front of Wandering, who sat perched on the edge of a counter.

“You need to open that door, Wandering,” Henry said. “It’s very important.”

Wandering gripped the edge of the counter. “Just Inky gave us a direct order. He will be very upset if we disobey him. We have never openly disobeyed him before.”

Allison sighed. “We know you’re new to the concept, Wandering, but you don’t need to do what Inky says all the time. He is not your master.”

Wandering simply stared at her as if Allison had uttered something foreign and was trying to puzzle it out. Then they blinked and looked up, as if sensing something. “We hear him. Just Inky is very, very angry. He is angrier than we have felt in a long time.”

“I need to get to him,” Audrey said, reaching her feet. She strode to the counter. “Wandering, please, you need to open the door to the hallway.”

Henry turned to her. “We’ve been trying to get Wandering to open that door for the last several minutes, but they refuse to go against a direct order from—”

“Okay. We will open the door, Audrey.” Wandering nodded their head, while Henry and Allison gazed on in sudden astonishment.

The door to the hallway slid open.

“Thank you!” Audrey said, already racing for the hallway. Tom followed, as did Allison and Betty. So did Henry, of course, although he grabbed Wandering first.

“Why did you agree to Audrey but not to us?” Audrey heard Henry ask Wandering as they rushed along the corridor. “How did her request override a direct order from Inky?”

Wandering stated, “Audrey is Audrey.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Audrey is a Guardian. She is the Main Artist.” Wandering appeared to be having a rough time explaining. “She protects The Ink Machine.”

Audrey wondered exactly what Wandering meant, but there were more pressing issues to confront than why Wandering had opened the door to the hallway for her.

“Hold on, Inky and Bendy,” she murmured. “I’m coming.”

***

They came out into a room covered in ink. It dripped from the ceiling, trickled down the walls, made small puddles on the floor, and streaked back to Inky who, when they entered, had clearly smacked Joey across the floor with the back of his hand.

The thumping heartbeats were intense now. Much stronger and faster than Audrey had ever heard them, and the eroded tint to the setting seemed to make it shift about underfoot. It was disorientating, but Audrey knew exactly where she was going.

“Be careful, Audrey,” Henry called over the din.

Allison and Tom gazed at the signal towers, and then spotted the switch, which looked as though it had been lifted just a bit. They connected the two quickly. “We’re going to flip the switch,” Allison shouted. “The signal towers will change him back into Bendy.”

“Don’t do it yet,” Audrey shouted back. “I’m going to try and calm him down first.”

“Audrey, wait!” Allison said, but Audrey was already racing towards Inky, who had lifted Joey and was holding him high against a wall.

Inky was wheezing so much that his skeletal ribs moved in and out like a rapidly puffed bellows. Steam hissed upwards.

“Please, let me say and do what I need to share, and then you can do whatever you like with me,” Joey Drew begged, as Inky brought his other arm back, prepared to strike.

“Inky, no! Don’t do it!” Audrey flowed to cross the remaining distance between them and latched onto his arm.

Inky twisted about and roared at her. There were no words, which was alarming. There was just blind fury. He tried to throw Audrey off his arm, but she hung on determinedly.

Had he lost all control, like Inky had feared he might when they went to confront Sammy and Alice Angel?

“Calm down, Inky. You need to calm down right now.”

When shaking Audrey didn’t do the trick, Inky lifted his arm in preparation of slamming it, but something kept him from doing so. He shook his head as if trying to remove some troublesome thought, and he snarled and gurgled. Maybe Bendy was helping. Amid the chaos, Audrey noticed that Wandering, in Henry’s arms, had closed their eyes and was concentrating, pushing around The Ink on the walls and pulling it downwards as Henry and Betty spoke to them. It was impossible to hear what they were saying, but they were probably encouraging and helping to direct them.

Tom was at the switch, watching Audrey with Inky and ready to flip the switch at the slightest change.

Allison, meanwhile, was coming to help. She let out a loud shout and waved her sword in the air, which got Inky’s attention. Now he was dealing with Bendy in his mind and the sight of Allison brandishing a blade, unsure of what she might do next. He turned and snarled, which gave Audrey enough of a distraction to leap up and wrap her arms around Inky’s neck from behind instead.

“Inky, it’s me, Audrey!” she shouted into where his ear should have been. “You need to stop right now and breathe. You need to breathe with me. Can you hear me?”

He thrashed from side to side, while still managing to keep Joey pinned to the wall, but at last he jerked to a halt as if a realization had struck, and Audrey finally heard a badly garbled, “AuDrEY?”

“Yes,” she gasped out, glad to have finally gotten a response. “I’m here.”

“You SHOULdn’t BE hERE,” the sounds of the words seemed to bounce all over the place. They were as wild as Inky was right then. “You NeED to GO.”

“Not until you listen to me and calm down,” Audrey said. “We’ll get through this just like we did before.”

“It’s much WORse THIS tiME. I LOST conTROL.” Inky wheezed so badly it took him seconds to get the breath back for his next words. “You WILL get Hurt by ME. I HuRT you in the lab. I DIdn’t ReCOgnize you a MOment aGO and was aBOUT to harm you aGAIN. My HEad is FillING with BUZZing. I CAN harDLY hEAR BenDY. I CAn’t CAlm down!”

“Yes, you can,” Audrey said. “You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not, so just breathe.” And she began the breathing exercises, forcing him to follow along. Meanwhile, Wandering continued to pull the ink down from the walls, clearing the surfaces, while Henry and the others, to help with the effort, cautiously approached and joined in on the exercises—although Allison needed to nudge Tom with an elbow before he started to do so as well.

They all breathed together.

It took much longer for the heartbeats to begin slowing, and for The Ink to begin ebbing even without Wandering actively pulling it back. The room began to regain its usual hue, although for a moment, another thought struck Inky that worsened everything again.

“You should not be here, Audrey,” Inky rasped, and now his voice thankfully sounded calmer, even though he was still wheezing. “I am taking care of Joey Drew for you because he is a monster, and I am a monster. But you… are not a monster.”

“Oh, Inky,” Audrey said, hugging him tight. “You’re not a monster. You were never a monster. My father, Joey Drew, out in The Real World was the monster. Many people saw him and thought he was a great person and dreamer, but he became a monster on the inside. I thought you were a monster when we first met, Inky, but since then you’ve proven that you’re not, on the inside or outside. We’re family.”

“If I am not a monster going after Joey Drew, then what am I?” Inky asked, gurgling lightly.

Audrey thought back to what Wandering had said in the hallway. “You’re a guardian of The Ink Machine and The Ink World, just like I am. Just like Bendy.” She smiled and gestured to everyone. “And just like all our friends. We’re the protectors of this world.”

Inky thought about that. “So, we still go after monsters.”

“As guardians, we make sure to keep this world safe from monsters,” Audrey confirmed.

“I am a terrifying guardian,” Inky rasped, as the wheezing subsided. The veined ink across the floor was almost completely gone now, and the echoing sound of heartbeats had quieted.

“Yes, you are,” Audrey said, sounding proud.

Tom grunted. “A terrifyingly egotistical guardian, you mean,” he muttered, although Allison putting an affectionate arm around his shoulders calmed him at once, and he put his arm around her as well.

Henry sighed in relief and took Betty’s hand, and she blushed slightly. With their free hands, Henry and Betty patted Wandering on the shoulders, Wandering yawned—with everything they had just gone through having clearly tired them out again.

“But Joey—” Inky rasped.

Audrey patted him on the arm. “He looks like a monster too, because of Joey Drew, but he did help me a lot in the last Cycle. He deserves a chance to show what he really is on the inside.”

Inky considered her, then turned to regard Joey. “And if he gives us the slightest reason to distrust him, causes us the smallest inconvenience, or leads us to any harm, then I am within my rights as a guardian to punish him.” He sniggered. This shift in the conversation and perspective seemed to suit him just fine. “I will enjoy that.”

Joey gulped.

Chapter Text

They were back in the laboratory. Joey Drew, or at least his Ink-World duplicate, sat on a stool at a desk loaded down with documents, blueprints, and various other texts gathered from all the shelves, drawers, and other crannies the group could assemble from the area. He had slipped on a pair of half-moon spectacles attached to a golden chain, apparently to better read what was before him.

Everyone else sat on stools or leaned against walls. The atmosphere was somber. Audrey could tell they were all trying to settle down after the confrontation in the other room beyond the hallway, and perhaps to get adjusted to the sight of Joey Drew sitting right in front of them. Or, at least, she was certainly trying to adjust to him. It was surreal to have him there after everything she had learned about her father, even though this version of him—in many ways—seemed the most solid and believable.

He was the one Audrey had met when traveling through The Studio, and it was only after interacting with him when vague memories from her childhood had bobbed to the surface—of being raised by her Real-World father in their small apartment somewhere in New York. Exactly where they had lived was hard to say for certain, since so much was still unclear from around that period, and this fact had started to bother Audrey considerably. It almost felt like another trick was waiting to spring upon her around the next bend.

Joey Drew clearly understood he was in a precarious position, even after having been saved. And Inky, the one he had been saved from, had soon realized how unnerved he could make the old animator by simply sitting beside Audrey and glaring at him with a wicked grimace on his face.

Audrey bit her bottom lip as she watched Joey pick up the blueprint Tom had come across of new planned attachments for The Ink Machine and examined the notations with a deep frown.

“How do you know how to decode these documents?” Henry asked, amid the awkward silence.

Joey sighed. “I told you, Henry, that while I’ve kept to my own small safehouse in the sewers most of the time, I have ventured out on occasion to see what is going on here in The Studio. I did so more often after Wilson invaded The Ink Machine with his Keepers. They never knew about me, but I observed them, all right, and tried to learn their secrets. I knew that when Audrey came here to The Studio, she might need to know such things to help protect this world. Me learning to decode the documents was one of the ways I prepared for her arrival. Besides, if I tried to approach anyone else, well, you know.”

Audrey certainly did. She could have only imagined Joey Drew making himself known to Henry before the Keepers had captured him and Wilson had confirmed that Henry was a creation meant to represent Joey Drew’s old business partner. There might have been some leniency if Joey Drew had chosen to appear before Allison, who didn’t have any memories of him, unless she recognized his voice from recordings in The Studio. And Tom wouldn’t have given him a chance.

Inky would have killed Joey on sight if he had had the opportunity.

Pretty much everyone in The Ink World had a grudge to settle with Joey Drew, or else they would have lashed out against him amid their blind pain and fury. The only exception might have been Bendy, who wouldn’t have recognized him—although given how flighty the poor little guy had been at first, Audrey imagined the two of them wouldn’t have gone too far together without meeting some catastrophe.

Audrey came out of her musings to notice Joey Drew gazing at her. He seemed to want to say something, but she dropped her gaze, not knowing what to say. It was still too awkward despite him not really being the real Joey Drew.

“No matter how you know about decoding all of Wilson’s gibberish,” Tom spoke up, “you’d better start telling us what you can.”

“Start with the blueprint,” Allison said, not unkindly.

“Right, I promised you valuable information,” Joey agreed with a nod. He held up the blueprint and pointed to the attachments. “This blueprint details a plan by the Gent Corporation to use The Ink Machine to bring whatever they want to create out into The Real World.”

“Big deal.” Inky snorted. “The Ink Machine has already produced things in the other realm. Like me, and Audrey.”

“It is true that you did come from The Ink Machine right out into The Real World,” Joey replied, although his voice quavered a little while addressing Inky. Apparently, he was still reeling a bit after their tense standoff. “But you were much different than anticipated, for various reasons.” He hesitated for a moment, took a breath to compose himself, and pressed on, “However, the reason Joey Drew and the folks from Gent erroneously claimed for your appearance was that you were soulless, which for them seemed to be exemplified by the creation of a perfect Boris from the abrupt sacrifice of a young man to The Ink Machine. Until then, there’d been only general chaos and madness brought about by their experiments and the effects of The Ink, which had gotten twisted by chemicals and other means.”

A look of suspicious horror had pinched Henry’s solemn expression. “What was the name of the young man who got sacrificed?”

Joey sighed. “Buddy. At least, that’s the name lodged in my memories. I think his actual name might have been ‘Daniel Lewek.’ Looks like one of those names strikes a chord with all of you.”

Indeed, not only had Henry gone quite still, but Allison and Tom as well. Audrey heard Henry utter a curse under his breath, while Allison murmured, “You don’t think Buddy is the same Boris who—” But she didn’t finish the sentence. She knew with absolutely certainty right then, as did they all, that Buddy at the Tasty Pizza was the same one who had been sacrificed.

“He doesn’t remember anything, does he?” Audrey asked.

Henry shook his head. “From what I can tell, he’s like Sammy Lawrence and Susie Campbell were before we returned their memories. Except in his case, forgetting his past might have been a blessing in disguise.” His hands balled into fists on his knees, clearly torn, and Betty gently rubbed his shoulder. Wandering slept cradled in the crook of Betty’s other arm.

“After Joey Drew saw what it was possible to accomplish with a human soul,” Joey pressed on, “he gave Gent the go-ahead to launch into experiments, with the personal goal of perfecting cartoon characters who could populate a theme park he had in mind, Bendy Land.”

Audrey remembered the bits of the theme park scattered in the storage room that Inky had mentioned, and she shuddered at this sudden mention of its connection to so many tragedies. “But Bendy Land never got built,” she spoke up, surprising herself, and seemingly Joey by the way he jerked and turned a steady gaze towards her.

Joey shook his head. “No, Joey began to focus more and more of his time and resources into perfecting The Ink Machine and pushing Bendy Land, and Joey Drew Studios rapidly declined as a result. Animations stopped getting released, and the few that did appear showed the strain of the many lost and overworked employees. Most of the experiments were failures, resulting in the lost of lives and folks going insane.”

He paused at this point for several moments, but no one said anything.

At last, Joey continued, “Needing a means to ‘sweep everything under the rug,’ in a way, Joey Drew realized the best way to keep what they had done contained was to form a world within The Ink Machine itself. It might have just been one of his first original, creative ideas, come to think of it.”

“The Studio,” Allison muttered.

“That’s right.” The heavy sigh Joey gave sounded utterly worn and resigned. “It was born out of his spite and thirst for revenge against his former business partner, Henry Stein, who Joey saw as responsible for the burning path down which he had gone. What better way, he thought, to take out that revenge than trapping him in a world along with all the ‘mistakes’ Joey Drew and Gent had created, in an endless loop, which would keep any of its prisoners from being able to remember too much or form any lasting plans that might somehow help them escape. Through the magic of that world, The Ink Demon,” he didn’t so much as glance at Inky, “alongside so many others could seem to simply disappear. However, that was nowhere near the end of the story. As you know, Joey Drew Studios went bankrupt. The Gent Corporation seized what was left of the studio property for their own and many of its assets, besides what Joey Drew managed to haul away.”

“Like The Ink Machine,” Audrey said.

“Like The Ink Machine,” Joey confirmed. “You could say he went into hiding with it, due to a falling out Joey Drew had with the head of the Gent Corporation around that point. They wanted different things, in the end.”

“What do you mean by that?” Tom asked.

“Joey Drew was a vindictive person and a terror to those who truly knew him, but the CEO of the Gent Corporation was even worse. While Joey Drew originally wanted to use The Ink Machine to create living cartoons for his planned park and Joey Drew Studios, and even diluted himself by thinking the folks who ‘contributed’ their souls to the experiments might eventually applaud his grand vision for the future, Alan Gray saw a machine capable of bringing everyone in The Real World to their knees with what it could produce. Joey Drew, you could say, finally came across someone even more power-hungry and twisted than he had become.”

Everyone sat in silence for a long time, absorbing this information.

But, as much as Audrey tried to do so, she still had trouble absorbing all that virile. All those terrors. The heartrending things that had led to Joey Drew hiding away in an isolated apartment.

“That explains some of what happened in the past,” Betty said, breaking the stillness. She squeezed Wandering a bit closer. “But how does it relate to the blueprint?”

Ah, that was right. What Joey had related had propelled them into another discussion altogether, when what they needed to know was on the blueprint now stretched across his lap.

“Once this world had been crafted, it seemed to establish certain rules for The Ink,” Joey explained. “Creations of The Ink Machine could only appear within The Studio, and they were on a constant loop with a duration determined by how long it took Henry to complete his journey to The End. However, amid all the Gent experiments, they came across an interesting discovery—that it was possible for them to reintroduce a little bit of ‘reality’ back into the flexible creativity of The Ink.”

This point made a ripple of confusion to shift through all of them. Audrey could practically feel it.

Inky spoke for them all by snarling, “You are being too cryptic, Joey. Explain now.”

Joey swallowed hard, stood with a creak of joints, and moved to a small container on a nearby shelf, over the edge of which they could glimpse traces of the Iridescent Ink. He ran a finger along the rim and held it up the colorful ink dripping along it like an exhibit. “This Iridescent Ink is the result of more experiments by the Gent Corporation, produced by electrifying The Ink in certain ways with the signal towers produced by them, which they learned operated at frequencies that adversely affected The Ink. It also, when utilized just right, proved capable of helping whatever was made from it cross the divide from The Studio into The Real World. Although the Gent Corporation were only able to pick all that back up over the past year when The Ink Machine came to light for them again.”

“You mean when Wilson entered The Ink Machine, don’t you?” Audrey asked.

“Yes. Wilson had a grudge against his father, and it had twisted him inside, bit by bit, over the years. Unknown to his father, it seemed he had gone to Alan Gray, and the Gent CEO had taken Wilson under his wing, so to speak. Wilson saw himself as reclaiming The Ink Machine for his mentor and taking revenge against Nathan Arch, and that was true even after your boss, Audrey,” he nodded at her, “had bought The Ink Machine as part of Joey Drew’s estate. But you stopped Wilson, Audrey. You all did.” He gazed around at the others.

“But Gent is still out there,” Henry said.

“Right. The Gent Corporation still wants The Ink Machine, even more than ever because while he was here in The Studio, Wilson was able to continue their experiments with the Iridescent Ink and made discoveries about what they could create with it. Things that Alan Gray would have jumped at the chance of bringing into The Real World if they could be properly tamed. This blueprint is their updated design for The Ink Machine to have it do exactly that, with Iridescent Ink.” He tapped the large barrels shown on either side.

Audrey once again recalled her conversation with Wilson when he had brought her to the manor for the first time. He had sounded so proud of being able to “bring what we create in here, out there.” She shivered at the memory of it.

“I still don’t get something, though,” Audrey said, hugging herself. “I mean, I understand why Gent wants The Ink Machine, and even more about this weird Iridescent Ink, but…” She found that she was trembling now. “Why can Bendy and I leave The Ink Machine?”

The question came out just like that, and the moment the words left her mouth, Audrey realized it was one she had been dreading. If the Gent Corporation had been doing experiments with Iridescent Ink, which let them bring creations out into The Real World…

“Let me back up a moment,” Joey Drew said, “by saying that when he went into hiding, Joey Drew brought along some of the Iridescent Ink produced by Gent. It began as more of a dark memento of sorts, alongside other little artifacts from Joey Drew Studios, until the loneliness of his isolation began to weigh down on him.”

Inky snorted in derision, but Joey pressed on, “So, there in that lonely apartment, with age creeping over him, Joey Drew for once started to reflect on his actions. It was spiteful, of course. He continued to blame Henry and everyone else for where he had wound up in the world. But in a little, long-neglected part of his heart, Joey Drew did wonder what it would have been like to have a family, and he set about experimenting with the Iridescent Ink, The Ink, and The Ink Machine, working to create a family of his own.”

Joey flopped back onto his stool again. He leaned back and closed his eyes, as if visualizing the scene. “‘I wish I could know what all the fuss is about with having a family, and what’s so special about it,’” he intoned, harshly as Audrey’s father had probably sounded, “‘I wish I knew why in the world anyone would give up fame and fortune for someone else.’”

Another exhausted sigh. “Wouldn’t you know it?” Joey opened his eyes. “Even after all it had been through, whether out of a genuine desire to do so, or perhaps to give Joey Drew a taste of his own medicine, but the Spring of Dreams somehow managed to grant Joey Drew’s wish. He gained a kind, wonderful daughter.” He offered Audrey a small, sad smile. “And at the same time as she appeared, it was like a flower of affection bloomed in that overlooked part of his heart. His eyes opened for the first time, and Joey Drew came to know a whole other world in here.” He laid a hand across his heart. “Much too late to do anything about it but suffer for what he had done. He only knew that he needed to keep The Ink Machine and its creations from falling under the Gent Corporation's control.”

Audrey noticed Inky scoot closer to her, as if to give her additional comfort, as did everyone else.

“Are you saying I’m made with Iridescent Ink?” Audrey asked quietly.

“A portion of you is,” Joey confirmed. “It is why you appear the way you do out in The Real World, where most of your abilities are sealed away, and why you assume your current form while here in The Studio.”

If that was the case…

“What about Bendy and Inky?” Audrey persisted.

In response, Joey reached among the papers and pulled out a small bundle of them, covered in thick writing. “These documents describe the process used when compressing ‘The Ink Demon’ into a smaller, harmless form, using Iridescent Ink to help form Bendy and use him as a vessel. It is also why Bendy can leave The Ink Machine.”

Henry frowned. “If that’s the case, then why can’t Inky pop out in The Real World, if that Iridescent Ink is a part of him now, or why doesn’t Bendy automatically transform into Inky whenever they come back into The Studio?”

“More experimentation by Wilson,” Joey responded. “For Audrey, it’s simple and is more of a physical change. Audrey has a certain form out in The Real World, and one here in The Studio. But for Bendy and, well, Inky,” Joey risked saying, “it is more than a physical change. Audrey keeps one mind, her own mind, during the transformation. Bendy and Inky have different minds, and the main way Inky was sealed in Bendy was within his mind. Wilson did tear The Ink Demon in half, in more ways than one. Each of them gained and lost certain abilities, even though they technically share the same body.”

“Is it why Inky has more of a connection with The Ink Machine, while Bendy doesn’t?” Audrey asked.

Joey nodded. “Very likely. While out in The Real World, Inky is more like a shadow of Bendy. He is still mostly just from the original Ink of The Ink Machine, rather than a mixture of Iridescent Ink and The Ink. So, as things stand, he cannot emerge in The Real World as he can here.”

“Oh, great,” Inky grumbled. “Then you really can’t do anything valuable for us.”

“Inky…” Audrey nudged him, and Inky sighed in irritation but relented.

“However, considering how well they generally work together, especially for Audrey’s sake, it surprises me that they are still so different,” Joey remarked.

“Just why does that surprise you so much?” Inky snapped.

“Er.” Joey hesitated, but under the pressure of Inky’s intense gaze, he eventually continued, “Well, I know this is an awkward idea, but I suppose I always believed that as the two halves found more common ground and grew closer, they might become one and the same again. One Ink Demon. I heard Inky talking to Bendy in the hallway, and from what I can tell, they are starting to interact with each other just like someone might when reasoning things out in their own mind.”

“Bendy and Inky are different individuals!” Audrey sprang to her feet.

Everyone turned at the sudden motion and shout. Audrey had shocked herself, which seemed to be happening a lot during this conversation. But a moment later, Inky stepped forward as well. “Audrey is right. Bendy and I are different. I could never be like him. His annoying personality is all his own.”

“Now calm down,” Joey said, holding up his hands defensively. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Please, Audrey.” He looked pleadingly at Audrey, who sighed and carefully took her seat again.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Joey replied. “It’s clear to me that they have developed along their own lines, but it is still the case that Inky cannot appear in The Real World as he is right now given the way Wilson experimented on him and Bendy.”

Henry considered it. “Then Wandering might be our best chance,” he murmured, gazing down at the small snoozing form. “When they get strong enough to do it.”

“I’ve heard about The Spring of Dreams coming back,” Joey said.

“You were eavesdropping, then?” Tom asked. He had grabbed a wrench and was almost absentmindedly thumping one end of it in the palm of his other mechanical hand while listening to the conversation.

Joey nodded. “I happened to overhear that news, yes.” He met Audrey’s gaze. “But if you want to help Inky to appear in The Real World, and to ensure that Bendy and him remain their own individuals despite their growing closeness, you will need to make a wish and hope it comes true—which, because it’ll be you, Audrey, might just be the case.”

***

Their conversation, after that point, wound down considerably. Details like how Wilson had made his Keepers using Iridescent Ink and The Ink were logical conclusions, and even Betty admitted to not being too surprised when a report that Joey read over mentioned her being the result of similar experiments, albeit ones where Wilson had managed to create more detailed, human-like figures—the kind of individuals who might go unnoticed if they traveled out into The Real World.

“I don’t think I should like to try stepping foot out there, though,” Betty mentioned, considering the possible implications of that fact. “My home is in here. It would be much too confusing for me anywhere else.”

The weariness from the past few hours caught up with them, and it was eventually decided that Audrey and most of the others should head up to bed. Joey, meanwhile, volunteered to stay and continue to look through the documents in the lab in case he could turn up anything else that might be helpful. Tom stayed behind to keep a watch over him, and it was agreed that Allison and the others would take turns doing the same.

Except, that is, for Audrey, Inky, and Bendy—which seemed to be something everyone silently agreed upon.

Audrey was grateful for the peace of her room in the manor, even though her mind was still buzzing with all the chaos and revelations from down in the laboratory. She flopped onto the bed and hugged a pillow to her chest, letting the tears dribble down her face.

Inky gave way to Bendy, who climbed onto the bed beside her. He pulled out his notebook. “Please don’t cry, Audrey. It will be okay.”

Audrey looked up at him. She reached up and gently laid a hand against the side of his head. “I know. I—I’m sure of it. I just need some time to process everything.” She paused. “Are you okay?”

Bendy nodded.

From a mirror nearby, Inky grumbled, “Joey doesn’t have a clue. So,” he sniggered, “when do we get rid of him?”

“He isn’t the actual Joey Drew, Inky,” Audrey said. “He’s just trying to help us.”

Bendy nodded again and hugged her.

“Well, what I say still holds firm. He had better not try anything,” Inky grumbled. “Get some sleep, Audrey. I will order Wandering to rest until they have enough energy to grant our wish.”

Audrey thought about it. “If we bring color to The Ink World, that might help even more,” she wiped at her eyes. “It seems like the happier things become for everyone here, the more energy Wandering gets.”

Bendy wrote, “We can start coloring things when we go home?” His grin widened.

“Exactly,” Audrey stroked him between the horns. “After we introduce more colors here, the others can join in on the fun as well.” She wrapped an arm around him and drew him close. “We’ll bring so much color and life to The Ink World, everyone will find a reason to celebrate being here. Also, don’t forget the community theater is almost done, after which we can tackle Bendy Land.”

Bendy squeaked in happiness, but Inky was quiet and thoughtful.

“Inky?” Audrey asked.

“You do not need to worry anymore, Audrey,” he rasped softly, touching the mirror. “I am a guardian now, and I will protect you no matter what happens. I promise.”

“Oh, Inky, I know,” Audrey said, touching his hand on the mirror with her other hand. “I know.”

“I will too!” Bendy wrote.

“Thank you, you two,” Audrey murmured. “Thank you.”

Chapter Text

Audrey lay curled in bed at the apartment. The clock on the nightstand read 4:00 a.m., but she could hear the familiar sounds of breakfast preparations in process. Slipping out of her room, she padded into the kitchen and found Bendy standing on a stool at the stove with his back to her, scrambling eggs.

“Good morning, Bendy,” she greeted. “Why are you up so early?”

He failed to respond.

Puzzled, Audrey turned to the mirror. “Good morning, Inky.”

He wasn’t there. All she saw was the reflection of Bendy at the stove.

Dread swelled in her stomach.

“AuDREY.” The word came out garbled, and as it reverberated around the apartment, veins of ink seeped between the tiles in the kitchen floor and crept up to wrap about the figure on the stool. “AUDREY.” This time, it came out deeper in tone and made the walls rattle.

The pan with the scrambled eggs dropped to the ground and got absorbed by The Ink. Then the mirror fell, and its glass shattered as Bendy grew a long, thin tail that ended in a spade-like tip. The horns on his head lengthened. He twisted about with a face consumed by dark ooze. Reaching out a glove towards her pleadingly, his clawed fingertips, what came out of his mouth was undeniably Inky’s voice that had a certain squeakiness mixed into it, “Who am I now, Audrey?”

“Audrey,” a quieter voice came from behind her. Audrey turned, and Joey Drew stood there holding a reel of film with the words “The End” written on the side. Sadness filled his face as he said, “My daughter, you must listen to me. Dreaming alone is not enough. You must also—”

Three figures detached themselves from the shadows behind him—Keepers. They latched onto Joey Drew and tore the film reel away from him.

“Destroy all the evidence,” one of the Keepers stated in a staticky voice, and then turned towards her. “Mr. Gray wants all the evidence destroyed.”

“Audrey, help us!” The combined form of Bendy and Inky cried, and Audrey rushed for them, reaching out for them.

Her outstretched hand was that of her form in The Ink World, complete with golden whorls which glowed bright. A golden glow filled the apartment.

But before she could reach them, the combined form of Bendy and Inky exploded in a burst of ink.

***

Audrey opened her eyes, sweating. Her pulse was racing. It was dark, terribly dark, and she had the impression for several seconds of being lost in The Ink alongside Bendy and Inky. Then little details in the setting became apparent despite the dimness, and she recognized their room in the manor.

It had been a dream. Only a dream.

Bendy rested under the bedcovers at her side, calm and peaceful, and she knew Inky would pop up in the mirror.

Thank goodness. They were still all right, although Audrey knew she wouldn’t get back to sleep in a hurry. So she made her to tuck Bendy in more securely, slipped on a housecoat, and left the room. She took there in the hall for a long moment, thinking. Indecision gnawed at her. Then she gazed back at Bendy and at the darkened mirror, and these concerns mixed with others.

Resolve flared within her, and she strode down the hall. The dining room door creaked open as she was passing by, and Betty stepped out carrying a tray with a teapot and several cups on it.

Betty blinked in surprise. “Oh my, Audrey, are you quite all right?” She frowned, apparently noting the direction in which Audrey was heading and the expression on her face. “You’re on your way to the laboratory, aren’t you?”

“I need to speak with my fath—with Joey Drew,” Audrey said. “There are things I need to ask him about, and just to tell him, now that I’ve had a bit of time to absorb him being here.” She took a deep breath and released it.

Betty gazed at her for about a minute, and Audrey half expected a question as to whether or not her seeing Joey Drew was advisable. Instead, Betty only nodded and said, “Come along, then. I’m taking some tea down to him and Allison.”

***

Henry would begin his shift watching Joey in the laboratory shortly. Allison was down there, he knew, having taken over for Tom, and his imagination ran wild with what they might be discussing. He had heard tom stalk past in the hallway, muttering to himself about Gent and all the ways he wanted to knock some sense into Thomas Connor in the world outside The Ink Machine. Earlier, Henry had also heard Betty leave her room not far from his and move in her dainty way down towards what he suspected would be the kitchen.

She was probably baking something. Baking was a way for Betty to calm down when something had worried or disturbed her, which of course made sense. Henry also couldn’t sleep, so he had decided to sketch for a while to quiet his own racing thoughts and decide what to talk about with Joey when his own vigil started. The man wasn’t the Joey Drew who had crafted The Ink World, the Cycle, and placed Henry and the others there, but they resembled each other enough to make things awkward. Further, if their group conversation was any indication, Joey was a fountain of eagerly shared information about terrible things Gent and Joey Drew had done in the past, as well as warnings about what the future might hold for them if they weren’t careful.

Joey was probably trying to be useful, but he was also stirring up more than a few anxieties in the process. And Henry suspected almost everyone in the manor would spend this night pacing or wrapped up in their own thoughts rather than resting.

Thankfully, the exceptions seemed to be Audrey, Bendy, and Inky—and the three of them needed the respite more than anyone else.

And Wandering as well, of course. Henry had brought them to his bedroom and tucked them into his bed. They had been largely quiet since falling asleep in Betty’s arms while Joey decoded the plans by Gent and Wilson for The Ink Machine. With any luck, they were lost in the same peaceful dreams that had produced those transparent balls of light during the dance party, which itself now seemed to be days ago rather than just a few hours.

Now, though, as Henry doodled away on a sketchpad, Wandering started to murmur.

***

Audrey followed Betty down the narrow staircase. They proceeded in silence, each one wrapped in her own thoughts, and before too long heard a conversation in process ahead of them in the laboratory.

“He sounds a lot like my Tom,” Allison replied to something Joey had said.

“From my recollection, they are very much alike. Well, aside from their exteriors. Then again, time can change a great many things, including folks. You shouldn’t expect him to be the same inside now as he was back then.”

“I refuse to believe that. If Audrey can just talk to him, really talk to him, then I am sure…”

Betty pushed open the ajar door into the lab further, and Allison twisted about. Joey didn’t even look up from poring over documents at the desk nearby and making notes on a fresh sheet of paper.

Allison relaxed at sighting Betty with the tea, and then she frowned when Audrey entered as well. “Audrey,” she said, stepping forward. “It’s late. Perhaps this is not the best time to—”

“Please,” Audrey said. “I’d like to speak with him for a few moments.” She hesitated. “Alone?”

Allison’s frown grew, and she seemed about to say something, but Betty touched her on the shoulder and responded, “We’ll leave the two of you alone for a few minutes. We’ll be waiting right outside, so just shout if you need anything.” Betty bobbed her head to Audrey and motioned for Allison to follow her beyond the laboratory door.

It was a gesture, more than anything else. Even when closing the door, it would be easy enough to hear what was taking place in the room beyond if Allison and Betty really wanted to do so. But, still, the show of privacy was much appreciated.

The door closed gently, and Audrey stood there rubbing her arm and gazing at the back of Joey Drew. He stopped taking notes, gently laid down his pencil, and heaved a deep sigh. Then he turned in his chair to face her.

“Hello, Audrey,” he said gently, with the same tired little smile she could remember vividly from her otherwise vague childhood memories. “So, what can I do for the biggest star of my life?”

***

Wandering was dreaming. They could remember the sensation now, thanks to the specks of souls and memories drifting around. It had been peaceful and happy. At least, that was how it had been when they had dreamed the first time and Henry had promised to keep them close and not to let them go. It had felt so good, and been so restful, Wandering had savored doing the same thing again.

But this time, fragments of memories were colliding—or were they? Wandering had the odd impression that they really weren’t, even though they seemed to be in that dream-like state. It was an illusion.

Or was it?

Visions were leaking out of the souls, though. Flickering around in a swirl of thoughts and feelings… and fears.

Yes, Wandering recalled those sorts of things happened in dreams too.

There was a certain term to describe it when fears took shape in dreams.

Ah, nightmares. Yes, Wandering supposed that term was the appropriate one. They were teetering on the edge of nightmares, which started out like normal, pleasant dreams.

In one, they were patting the head of a young boy who was looking up at him and asking, “When are you coming back, Daddy?” to which they replied, “I’ll be back this evening, Andrew. I just need to talk to someone. Old business matters, you understand...”

Only they never did come back.

In another vision, from a few years later, maybe, they were jotting things down in a notebook as they snuck around inside a massive building, much like The Studio but different, where dark pipes wound through the walls. “I’m coming, Buddy,” they said. “They won’t get away with anything ever again. The truth will prevail in the end.”

Except then they turned a corner, and there was a stern man who sat in a wheelchair. He was flanked by a young man with an eyepatch, who wore a grayish uniform much like a janitor, and that man rubbed his hands together and said, “Well, well, have you enjoyed your private tour? I’ll bet I know what you are looking for. Why don’t we escort you there, personally?”

There were other similar visions swirling about in their head. Like birds fluttering around in an enclosure, desperately trying to get away. Common among them were the Gent workers who chased after them.

Wandering needed to search for them. To stop them.

They needed to stop the monsters.

Searching.

Searchers…

***

Audrey must have stood there awkwardly for more than a minute, trying to compose herself as emotions swelled up inside and threatened to overwhelm her. It felt like she would have burst like Bendy and Inky had in her nightmare if Joey had said anything or so much as stood up, but he didn’t. He appeared content to simply wait until she was ready to make the next move.

At last, Audrey swallowed. “You never mentioned Allison Pendle, you know, during your story about Joey Drew earlier this evening,” she said. It was the first thing that managed to free itself from her tangled mess of thoughts. “When you showed me that slideshow, I thought you said she helped to change his view of the world.”

“She did,” Joey replied. “She would swing by the declining studio all the time to try and speak with her husband. Sometimes she managed to pull Thomas Connor away from his work, but sometimes she would wind up leaving without ever meeting up with him. While she was waiting for him to get a moment, she wound up chatting with Joey Drew instead. Usually about life around New York and elsewhere, the kindnesses she had observed, and the great experiences she had had as an actress and singer. That Allison Pendle was an angel through and through. They became good friends.”

A wistful look across his face. “Joey Drew was losing more and more control over his own studio by then,” Joey murmured. “Alan Gray and Gent had filled the place with miles upon miles of pipes and ink, they had emptied out whole departments to make more room for their machinery and inventions.” He sighed. “Allison Pendle noticed the changes as well and noted them aloud to Joey, which led him to realize how many decisions and things had been taken away from him, just as he had taken those things away from others in the past. It was one of the reasons for the falling out between Joey Drew and Alan Gray. Besides Alan Gray’s own plans for The Ink Machine, I mean.”

Audrey pulled out a stool and sat on it. “Do you remember everything from Joey Drew’s life?” she asked quietly.

“A great deal of it, yes. Including what it was like to raise you in the apartment.” He smiled. “and the joys our time together brought.”

“I hardly remember anything from then,” Audrey said. “Only a few scattered memories. And the more I think about it, the shakier my memory is before moving into my apartment and starting work at Archgate Films. It’s never bothered me before, and I guess compared to some of the things on my mind now,” here her thoughts turned, once again, to Bendy and Inky sleeping upstairs, “it shouldn’t bother me as much as it does, but I still want to know why.”

“Oh, Audrey,” Joey Drew said. “It’s because you chose to forget.”

***

Henry looked up from his drawings and noticed Wandering tossing and turning. Their fingers dug into the covers. He set aside his sketchpad, went to the bed, and carefully stroked Wandering on the side of the head. They settled down a little but still released several quiet whimpers. They murmured, “Must search for them. Must stop them.”

There was something off.

Henry couldn’t have said exactly what startled him. A sudden, overwhelming sense of wrongness simply washed over him in a wave. Gazing around the room, he tried to figure out what had put him on the alert. Then he heard a deep-throated moan, accompanied by the splash of ink, from somewhere right outside his bedroom. He crouched down and pulled a wrench out from underneath the bed, tucking it into his pocket as he went to crack open the door and peer into the hallway.

On the floor in front of his bedroom door was an inky puddle.

And that was when he realized what had troubled him so much in the room—the shadows had been in the wrong direction than they should have been with the lights on. They had shifted suddenly, and his survival instincts had picked up on it.

There came another moan.

Right behind him.

***

Bendy stirred from uneasy and peculiar dreams. They had involved him struggling to keep Inky from taking over and attacking Joey again, which Bendy had somehow managed to do. During their struggle, though, Audrey had begun to sink into a puddle of Iridescent Ink. Neither of them had realized it was happening, and all the commotion of them arguing in their thoughts had drowned out her cries for help.

He had rushed to grab her hand, but the suction had proven too powerful.

Audrey had slipped away, just like she had slipped away amid the crowds on Coney Island.

Bendy hadn’t been strong enough to hold onto her.

Now awake, he reached out to draw comfort from her presence, only to discover she was gone.

He sat up, rubbing his head, which was aching for some strange reason, and looked around. The bedroom door was ajar, and a thin slice of light intruded across the covers.

“Great, she is gone again,” Inky grumbled. “Probably because of what Joey said. The next time we see him, I will make him pay.” There was an odd quality to his voice, although Bendy had trouble defining exactly why in the daze right after waking up. And the ache in his head was worrying him. “We had better go and find her.”

Bendy nodded and slipped out of bed.

Several throaty moans came from outside the room, deep and rumbly. It sounded so sad and yearning, but a chill shot down Bendy’s spine at its lament. “What was that?” he wondered.

“What was that? It was trouble.” Inky snorted, and Bendy realized with a start what it was that had made Inky’s voice seem odd; it was coming from right inside Bendy's head, rather than from the direction of the mirror. “But it won’t be trouble for very long.”

Inky sniggered.

He paused, then sniggered again with some hesitation.

Another pause. There came a quieter, incredulous snigger.

“I cannot emerge into my full form. Why can I not emerge into my full form?” Inky roared, and Bendy winced at the force of it. His head was aching very badly now. It had turned into a pounding headache. “It is almost as bad as when I was completely sealed within you in the beginning, except you are aware of me, and you can hear me.”

“My head hurts,” Bendy thought. “It’s been hurting ever since that weird dream.”

Now Inky thundered, “What did you do, you scaredy cat?”

“I am not a scaredy cat!” Bendy thought back at him. “I had a dream where I was keeping you from attacking Joey Drew and scaring Audrey because of it.”

“I bet you sealed me away while you were dreaming somehow, didn’t you? I bet you don’t even know how you did it, because you didn’t know you could do it. It happened because you were too much of a scaredy cat.”

“I’m a guardian!”

“Fine, you’re a scaredy guardian!”

“No, you are!”

“How does that even make any sense?”

The splatting of ink in a corner of their room interrupted their argument. Bendy had a sense of everything in the room, amid the gloom, which informed him that something had just erupted out of the floor. He reached over and flipped on the lights in time to see what appeared to be an inky form made up of a mostly featureless face and torso, which used its arms to drag itself towards him.

Bendy had only seen them from a distance, and he had tended to stay away from where they swarmed. But now, a second ink spot erupted from another corner of the room, splintering a bedside stand that had held a phonograph and making the pieces everywhere. He ducked as one of the stand’s legs whacked into the wall beside him.

“Searchers,” their thoughts echoed together.

***

“What do you mean, I chose to forget?” Audrey demanded, much harsher than she had intended. She heard movement on the other side of the door. Allison had likely overheard her sudden spike in emotion and wanted to burst into the laboratory, although Betty must have stopped her, because the door didn’t open. So, Audrey was left staring at Joey instead, waiting for an answer without interruption.

“It is something I can only remember through a memory of Joey Drew facing a mirror while lying in his bed and telling himself, or perhaps telling me,” Joey continued. “He was old then and feeling the years roll across him. He wouldn’t live much longer, and so he started to help set things up for you. He wanted you to be comfortable after he had passed on. It’s why he referred you to his old friend, Nathan Arch.” He sighed. “So, one day, he told you the truth about who you were and where you had come from. According to him, you didn’t believe him. It took him pouring some of The Ink on your arm, and those golden whorls popping up to do the trick, and then all you would do is say how much you wished you could forget about it, and how much you wished to only remember being normal, and how much you hated Joey Drew and wished to forget him.”

Audrey gasped, her eyes widening. She gazed down at her arm and the way the golden ink seemed to flow down her arm. She backed away from him. “What, you’re saying I made a wish and somehow made myself forget?”

But Joey only continued to gaze at her steadily. “It seems you did.” He reached his feet, although it almost looked painful. His expression was tired and resigned. Clearly, he didn’t savor making her retreat from him. “Somehow you made a wish while your arm was still as it is now, and your wish came true—or mostly true. You still have vague recollections of your father, don’t you? And you’ve since learned you are anything but normal, and you accept that.”

“Since meeting you and going through The Ink World, I have,” Audrey confessed. She was gazing at her arm and rubbing it gently. “This has some connection to the Spring of Dreams again, doesn’t it?”

Joey nodded. “To be honest, the event surprised Joey as well. All he could guess was that the fact you had appeared as a part of his wish meant some traces of the Spring of Dreams lingered in you, or at least in that arm.” He indicated her left arm with the golden whorls. “But it’s nowhere near as powerful or concentrated as the actual Spring. It’s more like a small sampling.”

Audrey gazed at her arm, thinking about it. “I’ve banished Lost Souls sometimes, and then the whorls would flare.”

“You sent them back to The Dark Puddles. Back to their source.” Joey Drew carefully eased forward.

Excitement welled within her then. “If it’s really true, couldn’t I use this power to grant Bendy and Inky’s wish to make Inky appear in The Real World? I could help them.” The possibility eased away some of the concerns Audrey had experienced amid her terrible dream of a combined and confused Inky and Bendy. “I could—” She trailed off at the sight of Joey shaking his head.

“Making Inky appear in The Real World is a tall order, Audrey. It is why I did not bring it up earlier. Look at what it has taken for your Wandering friend to do what they have, and to make it stick. I suspect even if you used all the traces of the Spring of Dreams you could muster and used all your energy—which would be very dangerous, by the way—it wouldn’t be enough.”

“But if I don’t at least try,” Audrey said. “Inky and Bendy might…” She faltered, but then continued with great resolve, “I refuse to let them down.”

Joey stood watching her in some for some time. Finally, he said, scratching his mustache, “However, it occurs to me that if you could make yourself forget your father, there might be a way for you to ensure Bendy and Inky’s minds remain separate long enough for Wandering to gather the power to grant your wish. You could try wishing for it, and since it isn’t a huge physical change, it might just come true.”

“Really? Oh, thank you!” Audrey was so grateful she almost threw her arms around Joey and hugged him, only to stop abruptly. Even so, the awkwardness of it was clear. “Hmm. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I wouldn’t expect you to be that comfortable around me.” Joey hesitated, and then sighed. “Listen, Audrey. I am not the real Joey Drew. I am a copy he created to assist you, but I cannot help thinking of you as my daughter as well. You are important to me, as troubling as that fact might be.” He held out his hand. “It isn’t much of a consolation, but I will continue to help you in whatever way you need.”

Audrey gazed at this outstretched hand. She managed a small smile and reached for it—until the room rattled. The walls shuddered, and the lights flickered. Reminiscent of her dream. However, unlike in her dream, Keepers didn’t emerge from the shadows. Instead, inky puddles splashed into sight, and forms pulled themselves up.

Joey retreated, appearing as surprised as Audrey.

“Searchers, here?” Audrey hadn’t come across them since her initial journey through The Ink World, when they had appeared in a swarm within a locker room. Thankfully, a Gent pipe resting on a counter nearby offered some protection as they backed towards the laboratory door. Audrey opened it, only to find Allison and Betty already engaged with two Searchers on the other side.

Allison hacked at a Searcher with her sword, while Betty smacked another one alongside the jaw with her tea tray. Both strikes were quite hard and left their attackers melted on the floor.

“They’re probably upstairs as well,” Allison said. “I’ll lead the way. Follow me.”

“Searchers come from The Dark Puddles, don’t they?” Audrey asked.

Betty gasped. “Goodness, that doesn’t mean something dreadful is happening with Wandering again, does it? We must get to them at once.”

Joey, unarmed and apparently a bit off-kilter by all the sudden commotion, remarked in an encyclopedic manner, “Searchers are partially formed entities. You can think of them as fragments of souls pushing to the surface that seek out other pieces of themselves and pull themselves towards any warmth that—”

“Save the definitions for later!” Allison shouted as she slashed into a Searcher coming down the stairs.

***

Wandering was seeking them out. The monsters were everywhere. The Gent workers. Wandering was meeting resistance. It was too hard to see, but their Searchers were falling apart. They were being attacked.

By the monsters, maybe. And those monsters were getting closer.

Closer to them.

The Searchers were too small.

Maybe what they needed was something bigger.

***

“Don’t just stand there,” Inky grumbled. “Grab something to use as a weapon.”

Bendy looked around wildly as a Searcher dragged itself towards him, and he spotted the leg of the bedside stand still sticking out of the wall. He grabbed and pulled on it, trying to get the thing free. Out in the hall, he could hear more moans and the sounds of fighting taking place. Specifically, he could hear Tom shouting about inky monsters, and Henry calling out something about Wandering.

“Hurry up,” Inky snapped.

“I’m trying,” Bendy thought.

“Well, try harder!”

Bendy placed both feet against the wall. “I am!” He yanked as hard as he could on the leg. It popped free just as one of the Searchers was nearly upon him, and the force sent Bendy crashing backwards through the oozing mass, which fell apart with a sad groan.

Another one bore down on Bendy almost immediately, but this time he managed to twist about and thwack it hard enough to make the body collapse back into a puddle on the floor. The bedroom was calm again for the moment, and the rush of excitement, on top of the fact he had effectively taken out two of the Searchers by himself, made him grin widely.

“See, Inky? I did it!” Bendy thought, while Inky grumbled various things. “I am a brave guardian too.” He strode to the door, whistling, and opened it to reveal the biggest Searcher he had ever seen. He gazed upwards, the whistle dying on his lips.

“He’s all yours, ‘brave guardian,’” Inky muttered.

***

The Searchers had blocked Henry almost at once from getting back into his room and to Wandering. They seemed to pour out of the doorway, and Henry had found himself retreating before them until Tom came running to join the fray.

“It’s Wandering. I think they’re having some sort of nightmare,” Henry said while he smacked Searchers with a wrench on one side, and Tom punched them with his mechanical fist on the other.

Tom grunted. “If it isn’t one thing, it’s another. But I’ll help you get in there to wake them up.”

***

As Allison had guessed, the whole hallway was full of Searchers. Audrey, Allison, and Betty addressed them as they pressed onwards, until Allison called out, “I can see Tom, and I think Henry as well!”

Audrey breathed a sigh of relief for their sakes, but she kept scanning the ruckus with growing anxiety. She smacked another Searcher. “Where are Bendy and Inky?” It was odd and troubling to her that Inky hadn’t emerged to quiet Wandering right away, if that was the case, or at least to help clear away the Searchers. “I’m going to find them!”

“Go right ahead, Audrey,” Betty replied, whacking yet another Searcher with the tea tray. Then, “Excuse me, don’t mess up my nice dining room!” She addressed this reprimand to several Searchers glimpsed slipping into that area. She went striding in after them.

Joey barely dodged a Searcher, and Allison sighed before pulling out a spare wrench. “Here, take this and do your best with it. Try not to hurt yourself.”

Audrey didn’t stick around to hear Joey’s reply. She was fighting her way towards their bedroom. “Bendy! Inky!” She burst into their bedroom, only to find an enormous Searcher she had ever seen—a bit taller than half the height of the room—smack Bendy backwards right into the adjoining bathroom.

“Bendy!” she shouted, and a second later, the little guy poked his head around the doorframe. He blinked in shock, and then smiled at sighting her.

Audrey smiled back.

Then Bendy’s eyes widened. He shot forward and tackled Audrey as the massive Searcher brought a speedy hand slamming down right where she had been standing. They hit the floor feet away from the spot.

“Thanks, little guy,” Audrey said, then grabbed and flowed away to avoid another hand that came slamming down. The movement took her right by a mirror, in which Inky appeared, albeit his reflection was far more transparent than usual.

“Inky, what’s wrong?” she asked.

Inky gestured wildly and pointed at Bendy, his body language indicating that he was very, very frustrated with the current situation. Meanwhile, Bendy appeared sheepish in response.

“We’ll talk about it afterwards,” Audrey said as they turned back to the giant Searcher. “Let’s take down this Searcher first.”

Bendy saluted with a whistle, and soon they were running around the Searcher, smacking at its limbs and sides. Then an idea seemed to strike Bendy, and he motioned for Audrey to throw him onto its shoulders, which she did. The little guy clambered up and gave the thing a well-aimed wallop with the wooden leg right to the back of the head. Then he leapt free, and Audrey caught him, as the Searcher went toppling forward in an oozing wave.

“Whew, we did it.” Audrey wiped an arm across her brow, brushing back her hair. You were very brave there.”

Bendy beamed at the compliment.

“But now maybe you can tell me, what is going on with Inky?”

Bendy wrote in his notebook, “He’s sealed in my head again.”

“Sealed?” Audrey asked in surprise. She hadn’t known that was possible after Inky had gotten released while in The Ink World. “How?”

“I did it in my dreams by accident,” Bendy jotted down. “My head hurts, but I can hear Inky’s voice. He is angry and is calling me names.” He frowned.

Audrey thought about what Joey had told her down in the lab. She glanced at her hand with the golden whorls on it. “Hey, Bendy, I’m going to give something a try. Just give me a second.” She knelt and gently gripped his head, while Bendy watched her in fascination.

She made a wish. “I wish Inky was unsealed again, that they would keep their own minds, and that I could hear them both again.” Nothing happened, except Audrey felt a sudden burning along her arm and had the odd impression of liquid sloshing about them in the bedroom. She tried again, wondering if the form of the wish she had made was too much, as another moan rang out close behind her.

“Please,” Audrey whispered. “I want to help them.” She made the same wish, unsure of what else to try to remedy this situation, and then the whorl on her hand pulsed. The golden ink on her hand appeared to, for the lack of a better description, drain out.

And as she was being captivated by this image, a voice rang in her ears. “Audrey, look out!”

Ink erupted in front of her, and Inky roared as he reached over and tore apart a Searcher that had been bearing down on them. “Finally, I am free again,” he grumbled.

“It’s good to hear you,” Audrey said, still wondering at the first voice as she stood. But before she could give it much thought, the world swayed somewhat, and she felt incredibly lighthearted. She might have fallen over just like the enormous Searcher had if Inky hadn’t caught her with one clawed hand.

He leaned down. “Climb on,” he muttered.

“Thanks, Inky.”

“They disturbed my slumber,” he growled. “I’m going to take care of them, and then I’m going back to sleep—so long as Bendy doesn’t seal me up again.”

“It was an accident,” Audrey said, “and you’re back out again.”

“I still don’t like it. Now hold on.” Then Inky took off, charging into the halls. He roared and smacked around Searchers in a fury of agitation. Everyone else was together now, making good headway in clearing a path back into Henry’s room, but Inky did one better by barreling right into them.

Amid the sudden opening, everyone hurried into the bedroom, and Joey closed the door behind them as Searchers pounded on the wooden surface. Audrey slipped off Inky’s back right onto the bed. She scrambled over to them.

“Wake up!” Inky thundered.

Wandering’s eyes opened slightly, golden ink shimmering between the lids. They were trembling. “There are monsters out in the halls. Everywhere. The Gent workers. They are searching for us. They are all around us. Coming for us. Must stop them. Don’t want to go.”

There were more splatters of ink in the corners of the room. Searchers emerged, and Inky was on them immediately, alongside Tom and Allison. Henry, Audrey, and Betty remained close to Wandering, while Joey sat at the foot of the bed and gazed around with great trepidation.

“You’re all right, Wandering,” Henry said, rubbing their back. “You’re not in danger right now.”

Wandering’s eyes opened a little further. “They were out in the halls. We fought back. We always fought back, but the Gent workers dragged us away.” Their chorus of voices seemed even more distinct than usual, as if there were fewer voices speaking this time. It was more focused. "The Searchers are finding monsters right now. They are around us, here in this room.”

“We’re not monsters, Wandering, poor thing,” Betty said.

Audrey nodded. “Wake up, Wandering. Wake up now.”

Then Wandering’s eyes flickered all the way open and lost their golden glow. It was like a spell had been broken. The manor fell silent, as Wandering gazed around at them. “You are not Gent workers, those monsters.”

“No, we’re not,” Audrey said.

Wandering’s eyes dropped. “We made a mess again.”

“You were having a nightmare,” Henry said. “But we came and woke you up.”

“But everything is all right now,” Betty agreed. “You don’t need to worry.”

“Don’t let Searchers appear in the manor again,” Inky growled.

Wandering trembled. “We were seeing visions from those lost to The Dark Puddles, to us. Two of them have emerged as Lost Ones in the hall. They are confused.”

“We’ll meet and check on them,” Allison said, leaving the room, followed by Tom.

“The danger has passed, so Bendy will be fine from here,” Inky said with a snort, giving way to the cartoonish imp.

Wandering wrung their hands. “It felt good to sleep and rest like this. We do not want to create nightmares anymore.”

“Could you always produce those Searchers?” Betty asked.

“We usually did so only when we were very stressed. They could move around and do things, back when we could not,” Wandering said. “We did not realize we were producing them here, and that they were fighting you.”

“It’s all right,” Henry said. “Everyone is all right.”

Wandering sighed. “We liked sleeping that way. In this form. But we do not want to create nightmares.”

Audrey thought about it. “Would it help if I told you to sleep peacefully without making Searchers from now on?”

Instantly, Wandering’s head whipped up, and they nodded vigorously. “Yes, it would. I would rest peacefully because you told me to.”

“Why is that?” Henry asked. “It is like when you wouldn’t open the door for us to follow Inky earlier, but you did so for Audrey right away. You said something about Audrey being the ‘Main Artist.’”

“Audrey is Audrey,” Wandering agreed.

Everyone gazed at each other, except for Joey Drew. “I know the reason,” he spoke up, and all eyes jerked towards him. “It’s because Joey Drew passed on the care and protection of this world to Audrey. She holds the sketch book, and she has inherited guardianship over The Ink Machine. And Wandering helps to make up The Studio.”

“That’s why you listened to me,” Audrey said, and considered it. “So, you will sleep peacefully in your current form from now onwards.”

Wandering nodded. “Yes, Audrey.”

"And maybe you can have any Searchers we might encounter in the future recognize us as friends instead?

Another nod.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

“I didn’t expect that experience tonight,” Henry said. “And here I thought watching over Joey while he decoded documents would be the biggest trial tonight.”

“We’ve learned a few things,” Audrey agreed.

“I was a brave guardian!”

Audrey, Henry, and Betty froze. Astonishment rippled through them as they turned to face Bendy, who cocked his head at the sudden scrutiny. He glanced over his shoulder, as if expecting to see something there, but then turned back to face them. “Why is everyone staring at me?” he asked.

“You spoke!” Audrey exclaimed. She hadn’t imagined the voice before. It had sounded, now that she thought about it, like the voice Audrey had very briefly heard when she was sick, and Bendy and Inky had been so frantic in trying to call out, while her mind was getting tugged into a dream by The Ink Machine.

But this time…

“I can speak.” Bendy blinked. Apparently, he hadn’t realized he had been speaking out loud. The knowledge filled him with obvious joy. He leapt up to hug Audrey. “Audrey, look what I can do!”

“Yes,” Audrey chuckled, although her gaze traveled down to her hand with the whorls, which had gone mostly dark with the very thinnest glimmer of gold now remaining. “Look what you can do.”

Chapter Text

The two Lost Ones who had formed after the Searcher incident were now in the parlor and had barricaded the door. Audrey and the others stood in the hallway, considering the best way to proceed.

“They took one look at us and panicked,” Allison said with a sigh. “One of them threw a vase at Tom, which he caught.” She nodded at Betty, who accepted the vase from Tom and carefully set it back atop a sideboard.

Bendy grinned. “I’m going to talk to them,” he proudly declared, “because I can.” Approaching the door, he rapped on the wood. “Hi in there!”

A feminine voice pinched with fear responded, “Who are you?”

“I’m Bendy. Let’s be friends!”

Rather than an immediate answer, a choked sob sounded from further back in the parlor. Someone, presumably male from the deeper tone, was rattling off numbers and equations as if doing so would ward off the nightmare in which he had found himself. However, Audrey also heard him murmur such things as, “I always knew the workload would catch up to me someday. Margaret kept begging me to retire and spend more time with our son, what with my blood pressure and everything, but I wouldn’t listen,” all of which gave why to despair as he lamented, “When will I wake up? I want to wake up!”

Meanwhile, the first Lost One who had spoken seemed steadier. “Bendy, as in ‘Bendy the Dancing Demon?’”

“That’s me!”

“Get away from us!”

“But I’m a guardian,” Bendy winced, hurt by the rejection, “and I want to help.”

Audrey came over to stroke him between his horns. “Don’t take what they say to heart, little guy. It’s because they’re frightened and confused.”

“I know…” Bendy hugged her leg, before adding, “Inky says he could burst in through the door, and it will be faster.”

Audrey shook her head. “I have a feeling that would just scare them more. We need to be gentle about this.” She turned to Wandering. “Do you have any idea who they are, or who they used to be?”

Wandering, cradled in the nook of Henry’s arm, stopped wringing their hands and scratched their head instead. They closed their eyes as if to concentrate better. “One of her names is Dot.”

Dot. It sounded like a nickname, but Audrey was grateful for the foothold. She lifted a fist, about to knock on the door, when Wandering continued, “One of his names is Cohen.”

The breath caught in her throat.

Henry muttered something under his breath. “The chief financial officer at Joey Drew Studios, Grant Cohen.”

Grant Cohen. Andrew’s father.

Audrey swallowed hard as she knocked on the door. “Um. Excuse me. Dot? Grant Cohen? Hi, I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. You don’t need to be afraid of us.” She paused, remembering how terrified she had been in this world the first time, and her incredulousness when Allison had introduced herself and welcomed Audrey to The Studio.

The whimpers and litany of equations faded, as did the clear sounds of more furniture getting shoved across the floor to fortify the barricade.

“Who are you?” Dot’s voice dripped with suspicion. “How do you know our names?”

“My name is Audrey, and this is the world inside The Ink Machine.”

***

Miraculously, Audrey managed to convince Dot and Grant Cohen to open the door after explaining that The Studio or The Ink World had come into existence through experiments with The Ink Machine. She stressed many people had gotten trapped there because of Joey Drew and the Gent Corporation, but they were building new lives for themselves in places like Lost City and Ink Harmony Park. Various construction projects were underway, and everyone was doing what they could to improve the conditions.

Sitting on one of the couches, Audrey introduced herself and the others as guardians, who helped to protect The Ink World and head many of the improvements. It seemed like the simplest explanation for what they had become, and the current conditions there, although it was almost surreal for her and the others to relate the whole thing aloud.

Besides the current state of The Ink World and who they were, their summary of events failed to go much further. By an unspoken agreement, Audrey and her friends left any deeper or more troubling topics off to one side for the time being.

The only one who stayed far away from the meeting in the parlor was Joey, who for obvious reasons had snuck away to the dining room, although Betty did frequently leave to grab things from the kitchen (and presumably to check on him)—which meant that before too long, the coffee table in the middle of the parlor creaked a bit under the weight of all the finger foods, condiments, cups of tea, and mugs filled with coffee.

Most of the food went untouched, though, with both Dot and Grant Cohen opting for large and strong cups of coffee. It was hard to judge their expressions, since they shared the ink-enshrouded forms of most Lost Ones—although Grant Cohen was heavyset, while Dot had short, inky tendrils on her head to create the effect of hair. She also wore glasses. But their yellow eyes flickered with what was probably a mixture of incredulity, anxiety, and frustration.

At last, a point came when Audrey and the others lapsed into silence.

Dot took a deep breath, set down her mug, met Audrey’s glance, and managed to say in a level tone, “Tell me, have you ever come across anyone named Buddy here in The Studio? He was an intern at Joey Drew Studios, and a good friend of mine.”

Audrey hesitated. She looked over at Henry, whose face registered discomfort.

Dot noticed. “You know something,” she stated. “If you know what happened to him, you had better tell me right now.”

Henry sighed and handed off Wandering to Betty. He turned to Dot. “I can take you to Buddy, but I need to warn you that he has changed a great deal.”

“Well, do you think I walk around dressed in ink all the time?” Dot gave a bitter laugh. “Listen, I am not afraid of the truth. The truth is my mission, and right now I want you to take me to Buddy, all right?” She made this declaration with such confidence, compared to her earlier fright, it took Audrey aback. “Then I’ll figure out what to do from there.”

Nearby, she heard Allison remark to Tom, “Somehow, I think she’ll be just fine.” She sounded impressed.

As for Henry, he rubbed the back of his neck and led the way to the door. “We’re off to Ink Harmony Park, then,” and they left.

As the sole Lost One in the room, the former financial officer gazed around at everyone. His hand tightened on his mug of coffee, and he asked, “Do you know if my wife is here? Her name is Margaret.”

Audrey thought back to her discussions with Andrew. He had spoken about his mother as if she were still around, and so she replied, “No, she’s not.”

Grant sighed in clear relief.

Then, “How about my boy? His name is Andrew, and he wants… wanted to be an artist when he grew up.” His voice quaked with emotion.

“Andrew works outside The Ink Machine,” Bendy volunteered, clearly happy to contribute something to the conversation. “He’s a really nice guy and an animator!”

“We know him,” Audrey said. “Andrew is doing very well, and we consider him a good friend.”

Bendy beamed. “He’s going to be excited when we tell him about you. He told us he has been looking for you a long,” he spread his arms apart as if to indicate a great length, “long time.”

“Don’t tell him about me,” Grant stated.

“Why not?” Bendy asked, wilting a bit.

Grant tightened his grip on the coffee mug. “Do you think he wants to know his old man has been stuck in an inky abyss all these years? He’d want to come in here after me, I know him, and I won’t have him doing that. I’d rather have him think I’m—” The pressure became too much for the mug, and it shattered in his hold, spraying what was left of his coffee across the table and floor. “My apologies.” He grabbed for napkins and starting to dab at the worst spots.

“Think nothing of it,” Betty assured him. “Accidents happen.”

“Anyway,” Grant got up and headed for the door, “One of you had better take me to this Lost City place. I have a feeling I’ll wind up there eventually, so I might as well make a start of it.”

Audrey sprang to her feet. “Andrew knows people have disappeared due to The Ink Machine. I think he would appreciate knowing you were all right, at least,” she said.

Grant paused on the threshold into the room. “With all due respect, ma’am,” he sounded so worn and didn’t look back at her, “I’d appreciate him thinking of me only as I used to be. Because the way I was,” He flexed his fingers, “is gone now.”

He left the room, and Tom reached his feet a second later. “I’ll escort him to Lost City,” he muttered. “He’ll get lost, otherwise.” He glanced at Audrey and look as if he wanted to say something, only to sigh and head off after Grant.

Audrey sank onto the couch and placed her face in her hands. Somehow, even alongside everything else that evening, the sadness and resignation from Grant Cohen had struck her the hardest.

A gloved hand touched her knee. “Audrey, please don’t be sad,” Bendy said. “Everything will work out, like you told me and Inky.”

“Bendy is right,” Allison agreed. “Both of them will stay safe in Lost City and Ink Harmony Park. They’re luckier than most Lost Ones have been in past Cycles.”

Audrey sighed. “it’s just… I’ve gotten so excited at all the progress we’ve made, I almost forgot what terrible things The Lost Ones went through to wind up here in the first place. They are still all souls trapped in The Ink Machine, and they don’t have any choice but to deal with who they are now, and where they are—while I can go in and out of The Ink Machine all the time.”

“Now Audrey, you shouldn’t put yourself down so easily,” Betty chided her gently.

“Right,” Allison said. “You have made a huge difference and been an inspiration for all of us. It’s thanks to you that life in The Studio took a turn for the better.”

Bendy gently pulled Audrey’s hand away from her face. “You’re a powerful guardian,” he insisted. “The best guardian ever. Inky thinks so too, even if he’s grumbling in the back of my head right now and pretending he didn’t admit it.” His grin was especially wide.

Audrey stroked him between the horns. “Thanks.” Then she frowned. “I want to do more to help everyone. Take Dot, for example. Buddy won’t recognize her when she gets to The Tasty Pizza, and that’s going to be heartbreaking.”

Betty considered the issue. She glanced down at Wandering, and a smile touched her lips.

***

Henry was happy when they reached Ink Harmony Park. The ride over on the subway had been mostly silent and awkward, where he’d found himself regretting one of the others not coming along with him. Dot had sat on the seat opposite, radiating intense thought, and any attempt to engage her in a conversation led to what felt more akin to an interrogation.

For instance, Dot had gathered from their earlier introductions that Henry was connected to the Henry Stein from out in The Real World, which had led onto an explanation about those who had originated in The Ink Machine as opposed to souls trapped there from elsewhere. She kept asking questions from that point onwards, especially about Buddy and how he was doing, and Henry did his best to provide answers, although none of them seemed to particularly satisfy her.

She had fallen silent, however, upon stepping foot in Lost City. She had gazed around at the many, many Lost Ones walking about the streets and carrying on with their new daily routines, even this late at night with the moon high overhead.

Watching her take it all in, Henry had spotted Grant Cohen and Tom emerge from the subway station, having apparently taken the train right after theirs. Tom had nodded to him before leading Grant Cohen over towards a street corner, where it looked like Sammy Lawrence was reprimanding another Lost One about how to properly hold a trumpet.

Then Dot turned and asked him where Buddy was, and Henry guided her into Ink Harmony Park.

While a CLOSED sign was on the glass doors of The Tasty Pizza, there were still several lights on inside, and Buddy sat at the front counter with a sheet of paper and a pencil at the front counter. He seemed more distracted and thoughtful than usual, and all Henry could think of was that Buddy was coming up with new menu items.

“Remember,” Henry said, “it’s likely Buddy won’t recognize you. He doesn’t seem to remember anything other than his current life as a Boris, and you might startle him by bringing up—”

“I know what I’m doing,” Dot interrupted him, and then the slightest note of pleading entered her voice as she added, “Just introduce us. Please. I just want to interact with him for a moment. That’s all I ask.”

Henry carefully knocked on the glass, and Buddy looked up. He smiled slightly as he came over to open the door. “Hey there, Buddy,” Henry said. “Sorry I haven’t been by lately. A lot has happened, which I’ll need to tell you about soon. But first, there’s someone who would like to meet you, Buddy.”

Dot stepped around him, and Buddy cocked his head in puzzlement.

“Buddy,” Henry said, “this is Dot.”

Puzzlement gave way to astonishment. Buddy froze as if someone had paused a scene on a roll of film.

Dot stepped forward. She reached out and took his hand. “You really do resemble a Boris from head to toe. I wouldn’t have recognized you,” she murmured while examining his gloved fingers, which Buddy surprisingly tolerated without so much as a whimper. “I’m sure you appreciate the height.” The slightest quirk of a smile touched her lips, which trembled.

“Listen, Buddy,” Dot said, and her voice was gentle, “you won’t know what I’m talking about. To you, I’m just a random stranger.” Her voice quavered for a moment, yet she took a deep breath to compose herself. “But I want to say thank you, Buddy, for saving me. For doing what you did for my sake. I wanted to do more. Still, I… I did what I could to make what happened to you known.”

She squeezed his hand for a moment. “And I’m sorry, Buddy, that I couldn’t save you. I’m sorrier than I’ve ever been about anything in my life.” Her voice cracked at the end, and she wiped a fist across her eyes almost defiantly before smiling at him. “Goodbye, Buddy. Hope your life is happier now.”

Buddy whimpered softly, worried.

“Sorry,” Dot said. Letting her fingers slip from his, she turned towards the door.

Buddy reached out and grabbed her hand again. Then he made several small whimpers and yips, followed by a gesture both Dot and Henry understood very well. He was saying, in his own way, for her to stay right there. And then he hurried to the front counter and grabbed the piece of paper. He brought it over and handed it to her.

“‘I wrote a story for you,’” Dot read aloud. “‘I want you to read it, Dot.’”

It was clear at this point that Henry was little more than an onlooker for the scene unfolding in front of him. Dot threw her arms around Buddy, and he hugged her back, both crying without reserve.

“Well, what do you know?” Henry smiled as he slipped out of The Tasty Pizza. “Miracles really can happen, sometimes.”

“Especially when we make them happen!” Bendy poked his head out from around the building.

Henry blinked in surprise, and then spotted a familiar tuft of hair protruding from around the building as well, alongside another impish horn. He crossed his arms in mock sternness and said, “Audrey, you had a hand in this reunion, didn’t you?”

Audrey stepped out, holding a snoozing Wandering, while Bendy ran over to peer past the glass at Buddy and Dot pulling back from each other. Buddy was leading Dot to the counter, where he continued to write on the piece of paper, and Dot said things that went unheard, since Henry reached down to pick up Bendy and bring him over to one side.

“Let’s give them some well-deserved privacy,” Henry said.

“I asked Wandering to help me return Buddy’s memories,” Audrey admitted, sheepishly. “I know you said him forgetting what happened was a blessing, but I thought it might be better for him to remember everything now that Dot is here.”

Henry gazed at her a while longer before he smiled. “Yeah, I’d say you were right. Those two are going to have a lot to talk about.”

“There’s still Grant Cohen,” Audrey murmured. “But we’ll figure something out.”

“By this point, Audrey, I’m sure you can do whatever you set your mind to,” Henry said, as they walked away. “For now, however, I say we get back and enjoy whatever rest all of us can get before the sun rises. After all, you have a busy workday tomorrow.”

“Come on, Henry, I’ll be fine.” Audrey rolled her eyes, although she chuckled as well. “I’ve had countless late nights before.”

“Yes, and you dropped from pushing yourself too hard. Believe me, I know what that’s like.”

“All right, fine,” she said.

“Fine,” Henry replied.

“I’m fine too!” Bendy cheered.

They smiled all the way back to the manor.

Chapter Text

Audrey managed to fall asleep again at the manor for a couple of hours with Bendy curled by her side, although she still felt drained upon waking. The golden ink of the whorl on her left hand had diminished amid her wish the previous evening to a sliver—although the amount might have increased a bit as she rested. It was hard to tell.

Breakfast looked and smelled especially good that morning. She attacked the stack of pancakes on her plate with such gusto that Inky even paused midway through gobbling down his own share to gawk at her. “I have never seen you so ravenous before,” he rasped. “It is as impressive as it is troubling.”

“Are you feeling okay, Audrey?” Bendy asked from his reflection in the mirror on the wall behind them. He sounded anxious.

Audrey blushed at the scrutiny. Without realizing it, she had become the center of attention. Henry had glanced up in surprise from doodling in his sketchpad, and Betty had paused while setting down a plate of muffins on the table. Thankfully, Tom and Allison had already left for Ink Harmony Park, so there were fewer glances.

Joey Drew was back in the laboratory, decoding documents. He had volunteered to do so, recognizing his presence was awkward and stirring unease. However, since he hadn’t done anything more than write notes set aside for everyone to view from his translations, and spouted off information like a fountain when asked, the others had allowed him the leniency of being left unattended for short periods of time.

“I guess I am hungrier than usual,” Audrey admitted. “I’m feeling all right, just a little tired.”

“We went through a bunch of things last night,” Bendy said. He counted the events on his fingers. “We went dancing, met Joey Drew, fought off Searchers, met Dot and Grant,” he switched to his other hand, “and reunited Dot and Buddy. Oh yes, and while we were fighting the Searchers, you got Inky to come out again and me to talk. And now you’re mimicking Inky.”

“I’m not mimicking Inky.” Audrey sighed. She couldn’t deny any of the other things. “All of us went through those things, although…” Her gaze dropped to her left hand.

Henry looked as well. “Granting a wish probably took a lot out of you,” he said. Audrey had told everyone about doing it and had shown them the state of her hand. While the initial dizziness had passed, it almost felt like she was recovering from a nasty cold.

“A full, good night’s sleep would make a huge difference,” Audrey said. “But it’s no wonder Wandering has spent so much of their time resting. Even a small wish is exhausting.”

“Speaking of them,” Inky’s grimace widened as he called out, “Wandering, we need more pancakes!”

From the kitchen, pans clanked and there came a swoosh of stove burners flaring. “Right away, Just Inky,” Wandering replied.

“Don’t order them around.” Audrey nudged Inky in the arm with her elbow.

Inky huffed. “They insisted on making breakfast without any assistance,” he grumbled. “If they have a complaint, I invite them to tell me.”

“You know very well that Wandering won’t complain. They will bend over backwards to obey your instructions,” Henry muttered, pushing back his chair with the clear intention to—once again—offer a helping hand in the kitchen. Betty had managed to get away with slipping in to make muffins, after asserting her position as the head of the manor, and then even she had been ushered out.

Henry might have pushed his way into the kitchen anyway, except Audrey got there first. “I’ll handle it,” she assured him before slipping into the room—where plates drifted through the air, whisks stirred batter in bowls, and pans in which batter had been poured moved over the burners. Wandering stood in front of the stove with their hands upheld as if they were the conductor of an orchestra.

Audrey gasped in awe, and all the objects jerked.

Wandering twisted their head around, their eyes golden and gleaming.

“I saw what you did in the basement, but I didn’t realize you could levitate and move things around quite like this,” Audrey said, gesturing at the airborne objects. “It’s amazing.”

“We have been practicing, and after we woke up this morning, it occurred to us to try lifting small objects about in this manner.”

“So, you did sleep peacefully the rest of the night?”

“Yes.” Wandering gazed at her, seeming at a loss for what to say next. They shifted from foot to foot and added, “We are fine, so you should return to the dining room. We will prepare and deliver more pancakes shortly.”

“I’m here to help,” Audrey replied, grabbing one of the batter-filled bowls and whisks. “You don’t need to do it all on your own.” It was a discussion they had been through during their first meeting, before Wandering had made themselves known to Henry and everyone else. Compared to then, though, Wandering looked much better. They weren’t leaking at all, and Audrey recalled brief mentions by Henry during their written exchanges that Wandering was forming more of their own identity. And they certainly did seem to be steadier nowadays.

It made her wonder at the changes Wandering underwent whenever another Lost One emerged from The Ink. Dot and Grant Cohen hadn’t seemed to remember being lost in The Ink—or they appeared to have at least recovered from the experience without the same confusion or agony of other Lost Ones in the past—and Wandering had needed to concentrate hard to remember their names. Almost like someone trying hard to remember a dream.

Audrey was about to ask about it when Wandering wrung their hands in discomfort. “We caused a mess with the Searchers,” they said, “so we want to make breakfast on our own to apologize for what we did.”

“Everyone told you the Searchers weren’t your fault. It was an accident, and no one got hurt,” Audrey said. “You shouldn’t put yourself down so much.”

Wandering hesitated. “Just Inky told us to make pancakes.”

“Inky didn’t say you had to make them alone.” She passed them to the stove and placed a pan over one of the free burners. Audrey went to the refrigerator and grabbed a few eggs.

“Yes, Audrey.”

“You should feel free to talk back if you’re uncomfortable or don’t want to do something.”

“Yes, Audrey.”

She sighed, feeling as if Wandering were still missing the point. They had agreed so readily to what she had said.

Audrey continued to cook and listened as a heated discussion took place in the dining room.

***

“You should be nice to Wandering, Inky,” Bendy stressed. “They work really hard, they’ve been through a lot, and they’re making breakfast especially for us.”

“You like to hear yourself talk, don’t you?” Inky grumbled.

“Yes, I do!”

Inky snorted. “They want to do anything they are told by me. They consider it a part of their purpose. Their meaning. Simply telling them to think for themselves is useless. They do not understand, so it is better this way.”

“What if they found a bunch of things they would like to do?” Bendy asked. “Like I love Fluffy the Bunny and you love monsters?”

“You mean hobbies or personal interests,” Betty offered. She clapped her hands together. “Oh, that might help them quite a bit.”

“It won’t work,” Inky rasped. “You invited them to join you in all those annoying activities like playing the piano and painting, and they followed along because I told them to do it. Otherwise, they would still be standing around in the basement.”

“I’ll ask them,” Bendy insisted, “and they will have a good time, since I’m good at helping people to have a good time.”

“Henry only told you that because Wandering was being more annoying than you,” Inky grumbled.

“Hey, I meant what I said,” Henry interjected. “Bendy should give it a try, and today is a good opportunity because you’ll stay here until Audrey gets off from work.”

“Of course, you would take Bendy’s side.” Inky snorted.

“There are no sides here,” Henry said.

“Yes, there are,” Inky shot back petulantly. “Just because he is a little bra—”

“Would you like a muffin, Inky?” Betty asked. “This one has extra blueberries.”

There was a sudden silence.

Then came a grumbled, “Yeah, I guess.”

***

Audrey finished preparing the eggs in a thoughtful mood, having listened to the conversation unfold. She glanced down at Wandering, who had their head turned towards the closed kitchen door. They were frowning, which had an odd effect when done on a face showing a full set of teeth.

“We are causing problems again,” Wandering said. “Everyone is worried about us.”

“Only because everyone cares for you,” Audrey stressed.

Wandering met her glance. “We do not want them to worry anymore. We want to serve them.”

Audrey studied them for a moment. “It’s natural to worry about friends and family members. And you’re not here just to serve. Haven’t you learned that from your memories?”

“We know you are our friends,” Wandering said. “Our memories reflect it, but we now remember granting wishes as the Spring of Dreams and serving others in that capacity as well. But we do not have the energy or ability to grant wishes as often as we could once do. It is too draining, and our composition has changed. We are uncertain what else to do.”

This confession stopped Audrey in the process of sliding pancakes and eggs onto a plate. Here, at last, was something Wandering was sharing about themselves, of their thoughts and concerns. “There are other ways to help others besides magically granting wishes,” Audrey said. “You’ve seen it happen, and you’ve helped everyone since long before we knew about the Spring of Dreams. We care about you for who you are, Wandering.”

Wandering fell silent, as if musing on what she had said.

Encouraged, Audrey stroked them between their small horns. “I’m not going to tell you to relax and have fun today doing whatever Bendy has planned for you guys, but I sure hope you will.” She handed them a plate. “Here, come and join everyone for breakfast, if you would like to.”

Then Audrey piled all the pancakes they had created onto a large plate, enough for everyone to have another helping, and she experienced a pang of satisfaction when Wandering soon followed her. The relief was obvious in Henry and Betty’s faces. Henry pulled out the chair beside him for Wandering to clamber onto, while Audrey set down the plates of pancakes and resumed her seat next to Inky.

As breakfast wound down, Betty’s face lit up. “Oh, goodness me, I almost forgot.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a sewing needle, some thread, and what appeared to be a small mirror. “Henry was telling me about you using a hand mirror to help reflect Inky and have him be present during your trip to Coney Island,” she told Audrey.

“Yes, that handheld mirror came in handy.”

“Bendy needed to carry the mirror around the whole time, didn’t he?” Betty said.

“I didn’t mind,” Bendy said, “although I almost dropped the mirror a few times.”

“Because you get spooked too easily,” Inky rasped, sniggering, “as expected from you.”

“I am not a scaredy cat!” Bendy retorted.

While the two of them bickered, Betty hummed as she approached Inky and set to work. A few flourishes with the needle and thread, and she had attached the small mirror at the center of Inky’s bowtie. “It should handle the transition between Inky and Bendy, I believe,” she said.

“There is one way to find out,” Inky grumbled. He reached back and turned the mirror behind him around, as Bendy shouted, “Well, you are just a big—”

From the mirror around his neck, the next word came out, “—meanie!”

“Looks like it works,” Henry muttered.

***

Inky followed Audrey to the basement when the time came for her to head off for work. From the bowtie mirror, Bendy asked, “You are going to be okay, right?” and Inky growled in irritation.

Audrey chuckled. “For the fifth time, of course I will. You and Inky don’t have anything to worry about. I’ll pace myself at work, and then we’ll go home afterwards.” She glanced between the two of them, relieved for her own reasons. After all, Inky could emerge in his full form without any trouble again, and now Bendy could talk. And they were still their own unique selves.

Her wish had come true.

They were safe—for now.

She would put up with some weariness for their sakes without a second thought.

“Be nice to everyone,” Audrey reminded them, although her glance stayed the longest on Inky.

“Fine, I will tolerate them,” Inky grumbled.

“Good. See you later!” With that, Audrey tapped the nozzle on the basement wall, ink sloshed out, and she was off back to The Real World.

***

Once Audrey had left, Bendy beamed as excitement swelled within him. “Now to show Wandering how to have a great time!” His image danced in the small mirror.

Inky simply snorted and sauntered upstairs at a leisurely pace. “I told you it’s not going to work,” he grumbled. “We are better off focusing on something else entirely. Something worthwhile.”

“Like what?”

“Tormenting old Joey sounds perfect to me.” Inky’s grimace grew, and Bendy could tell that if he didn’t act, things would be anything but fun—at least from his perspective… and, oh yes, from Joey’s perspective as well.

Audrey wouldn’t like it. Bendy knew that for certain.

Inky noticed his discomfort. He huffed in agitation, moving along the hall. “I am only stating the truth for your benefit,” he rasped. “You would fail miserably and get disappointed, and then you would sulk and annoy me more than usual.”

“I wouldn’t fail,” Bendy insisted. He crossed his arms defiantly. “We would have so much fun that you would sulk because you’d have to admit I was right all along.”

“Is that so?” Inky growled softly.

Up ahead, Betty came out of the dining room carrying her tea tray, slightly dented from whacking Searchers but still usable, loaded down with tea and a serving of pancakes. She noticed them, greeted them with a “Hello, boys,” and headed off further along the hallway. It was clear she was going to the laboratory to give Joey his breakfast.

Inky paused at the ajar door. He watched her leave, drumming his clawed fingers on the floor, and glanced into the dining room, where Henry asked Wandering, “All right, everything is clean in the kitchen, so what are your plans now?”

Wandering wrung their hands. “Audrey told us she hoped we would have fun with Bendy. Do you think we should interpret that as an order, or simply as a statement?”

Henry sighed.

Inky groaned at the sight. “Very well. Show me just how much ‘fun’ you can have with Wandering.” He gave way to Bendy so quickly, it was like getting shoved to the front of a line, and a moment later, Bendy found himself standing on the threshold into the dining room with Inky continuing to snigger from the mirror on the bowtie.

Bendy blinked a few times to get adjusted, then grinned. He would get to carry out his plans. Granted, Inky wanted to prove it was impossible for Wandering to have fun and enjoy themselves without being told to do it, but Bendy knew he would prove him wrong by the end. He had heard Audrey mention that Henry and the others had gone on a picnic with Wandering to Ink Harmony Park, and no one who did that could be unable to have any fun at all.

He entered the dining room.

“Hi, Wandering!’ Bendy strode up to them. “Let’s go play.”

“‘Let’s go play?’” Inky snorted. “I can see you are a master at entertainment already.”

Bendy placed a hand over the mirror and cleared his nonexistent throat. “Do you want to hang out?” He had heard Marge ask Audrey this question a couple of times, and it seemed appropriate enough. Even if all Wandering did in response was shift from foot to foot.

“Well, we need to store enough energy for Just Inky’s wish, so perhaps the best course of action would be to—”

“Good thinking, Bendy,” Henry interrupted. “I’m headed off to the library if you need me.”

“Thank you, Henry!” Bendy waved as Henry departed, then turned back to Wandering. “All right, Wandering, what do you want to do first together?”

The question seemed clear enough, but Wandering hesitated, “What would you prefer for us to do?”

Bendy’s grin wavered slightly. Then he brightened again, “What would you like to do together?”

Wandering glanced around nervously, singled out and struggling to develop an appropriate response.

When their awkwardness went on for more than a minute, Bendy tried, “What do you like to do for fun?”

“Take a nap?” Wandering guessed. “Clean up?” The lights overhead flickered, although they soon regained a steady glow.

“I told you so,” Inky rasped. “They do not understand the concept.”

Wandering dropped their gaze. “We apologize, Bendy and Just Inky. We do not have much experience with fun for ourselves. We only know of fun for others.” They rubbed their heads. “There are memories of entertainments, but they are not ours. They belong to others who will pass on as Lost Ones. We—” They fumbled for a comparison and simply trailed off. Then they said, “Henry has asked us about having fun as well, and as Just Inky said, we cannot grasp it fully.”

“There has to be something,” Bendy said. “You’ve spent a lot of time with everyone. Those are your memories.”

“We guess…”

“We just need to find something you love to do. Right, Inky?”

Inky grunted. “Good luck with that.”

Bendy frowned, albeit only for a moment. He wasn’t about to let Inky spoil their fun, after all. So, he grabbed Wandering by the hand and tugged them along. “Come on. Let’s have fun.”

***

A flurry of activities followed. They started with the ones that had preceded all the chaos from the previous evening, such as playing the piano, painting, and baking.

Wandering read the sheet music for and played each song set before them on the piano flawlessly, painted whatever Bendy suggested very realistically, and mirrored Bendy’s tap dance steps with ease.

When they baked cookies, Bendy learned Wandering could levitate and move tools and other items through the air. “Wow, that’s incredible!” he exclaimed as Wandering brought plates from cabinets too high for him to reach comfortably sailing out and onto the counter.

“Audrey was surprised as well,” Wandering said. “It is nothing extraordinary.”

“It is really, really extraordinary,” Bendy insisted. “You’re amazing.”

Wandering looked especially thoughtful as the cookies baked. When the ding came, and they piled the results on a plate to set upon the dining room table. Bendy and Wandering set aside several of them for Henry and Betty, and then snacked on the others, with Inky emerging to gobble at few of the cookies as well.

Before letting Bendy take over again, though, Inky regarded Wandering and said, “Tell me if you are having fun.”

It was an order, so Wandering responded, “We simply did things as directed, as we did yesterday, and among our memories are artists, musicians, and those with a knowledge of cooking.”

As Bendy emerged, he scratched his head. Maybe what they needed was something which wasn’t as straightforward. An idea struck him. He bounced on his heels, and as Betty passed by the room, spotted the plate of cookies, and exclaimed in delight, Bendy asked her, “Do you have checkers?”

Which led to several games of checkers played in the parlor.

Bendy explained the rules, and they played a round.

Wandering won.

They had another match, where Wandering won again. In fact, they won game after game.

“You’re good at this.” Bendy whistled. He had been cut off at every turn and trounced soundly.

Inky huffed. “Let me show you how it is done,” he declared and emerged into his full form.

But when, several minutes later, Wandering won, Inky roared so loudly that Henry came running to see what all the fuss was about. Henry breathed a sigh of relief when he realized nothing serious was wrong.

“Some of our memories are from souls who are good at checkers,” Wandering explained, from the sofa opposite to Inky, with the coffee table and the checkerboard set up between them. “We are sure that if we did not have those memories, you would have defeated us, Just Inky.”

Henry shook his head. “They are still your memories, Wandering,” he said, and Bendy nodded vigorously in agreement. “You used them for reference, but you are the ones who decided what moves to make and how to play the match again Inky.” When Wandering gazed up at him, Henry added, “It’s just like me having memories from the Henry Stein in the world outside The Studio. They don’t control me, but I can use them.”

Wandering looked thoughtful.

“For instance, checkers is a game I don’t ever remember playing myself, but I know the rules because it turns out Henry Stein liked the game too.” Henry settled onto the couch beside Wandering.

Inky sniggered. “You want to face me, Henry? So, you are ready for disappointment, then.”

“You say that as if you’ve already won,” Henry said. He smiled. “I might just beat you.”

“As if!” Inky snorted.

While Inky and Henry played, Bendy glanced over at Wandering, who was calmly watching the game. They were as peaceful as they had been during their other activities so far, without any traces of excitement on their face.

Bendy sighed. He wasn’t sure what else to try after the checkers match, and he had the impression that Wandering would receive such things as his retellings of the Fluffy the Bunny stories with the same placidness.

“Wandering, are you having fun yet—at all?”

Inky and Henry paused.

Bendy hadn’t expected his question to come out as frustrated as it did, but it had been there swirling through his thoughts as if waiting for the chance to burst free. He probably blushed a deeper crimson than Audrey had that morning.

Wandering, however, cocked their head in thought. “We believe we are having fun—” Bendy perked up, a grin spreading wide across his face “—because you are having fun.”

Bendy groaned. His face would have seemed to thump against the glass of the mirror.

“What did we say?” Wandering asked, looking around in bewilderment.

“I wanted you to have fun,” Bendy said, “and to find something you liked to do, but it’s hard. You are good at a bunch of things, but you haven’t gotten excited about anything yet.”

Wandering cocked their head. Their brow furrowed. “We… do not want to be excited.”

Bendy blinked. “Huh?”

“We want to rest.”

“Like taking a nap, right?” Bendy sighed. “You probably wanted to be asleep this whole time, and I’ve kept making you do things I thought might be fun.” He twiddled his thumbs. “Sorry.”

Inky was in a prime position to make a comment, and Bendy half expected him to do so at any moment. But he didn’t. Instead, he was curiously quiet.

“We are resting,” Wandering replied.

“I don’t get it.” Bendy scratched his head.

“Sleeping is helpful, but…” Wandering hesitated, as if struggling to grasp the right words to get across what they wanted to express. “We have endured the loud, endless agony of fragmented souls lost in our Dark Puddles, experienced turmoil throughout The Studio for decades, and most recently spawned Searchers during nightmares.” They paused, took a deep breath, and continued, “Now we are sitting here, in the parlor, watching Just Inky lose to Henry. It is restful.”

“Oh.” Bendy’s mouth formed a perfect O. These observations put a whole new spin on things. Then he grinned again.

Inky, however, was still stuck on the last point Wandering had made. “What?”

“You have a sharp eye, Wandering.” Henry chuckled as he jumped Inky’s final two checkers. “King me.”

Another roar erupted from Inky. “I would have won if I hadn’t got distracted. Let’s play again.”

“Sure thing,” Henry said.

As they set up for rematch, excitement swelled within Bendy again. “So, you are having fun together?” he asked.

Wandering nodded. “We are resting and enjoying ourselves, which we suppose also means we are having fun.”

Bendy cheered. “Yes! Did you hear that, Inky? I told you!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Inky grumbled. “I’ll sulk later. Now leave me alone. I’m playing checkers.”

“But you said you were having fun because I was having fun.” Bendy turned back to Wandering.

“We have been musing on it, and we believe that is our ‘hobby,’ as you would call it,” Wandering continued. “We like to watch our friends having fun and help them to achieve it,” a wistful look crossed their face, “because everyone is happy after so much sadness. It reminds us of…” Wandering paused, and their face lit up with a sudden realization. “It reminds us of watching wishes unfold right in front of our eyes, and for us, that is restful and fun.”

Then they laughed. It was a cheery sort of laugh like a whole group of pleased children, which made the lights grow brighter, produced satisfied-sounding gulps from the pipes in the walls, and tickled everyone in the room. Henry chuckled, Bendy squeaked, and even, at last, Inky guffawed.

Inky snapped a second later, “Stop that.”

“But it feels good, Just Inky,” Wandering said, trying to stifle more laughter. “We do not want to stop.”

Inky jerked in clear shock.

“Hey, you spoke back to Inky!” Bendy pointed out. “You spoke back to him!”

More squeals and laughter erupted.

Inky grumbled, although some of those grumbles faded away as the next checkers match got underway, and then stopped altogether when he won.

Feeling much better about life and how the day had gone so far, Bendy turned to Wandering again. “By the way, you seem to have a lot of memories about doing fun stuff,” he said. “Do you… happen to know of anything we haven’t tried yet that we might have fun with?”

Wandering closed their eyes as if concentrating. Then they opened them again and smiled. “Yes, there are quite a few games we could teach you, and we also have memories of activities that you might enjoy.”

“Yes!” Bendy punched his fist in the air.

Meanwhile, Inky tapped one of his clawed fingers against his teeth. “Games, huh?” His grimace grew especially wicked. “You know what? I have an idea for something so all of us will have fun.”

***

Joey Drew was dutifully taking notes down in the laboratory, filling each page with careful, handwritten translations and reflections. He would adjust his half-moon spectacles to better make out certain pieces of text, holding it up to catch the light.

On one of these occasions, a dark shadow rose behind him and eclipsed the illumination.

He twisted about to find Inky inches away and sniggered.

The intimidation of that looming presence made Joey stagger backwards and collapse against the desk that acted as his workspace, which seemed to give Inky a great deal of pleasure.

“W-what can I do for you?” Joey asked, his glance sweeping left and right as if searching for anyone else. But Inky was the only figure to fill his sight.

Inky grabbed him. “I am going to thrash you—” He paused, watching Joey cower. The sight made him snigger again before he continued, “—at checkers and all the other games Wandering will teach us.”

Joey opened his eyes.

From the bowtie mirror, Bendy exclaimed, “We’re having a game day!”

***

Audrey was tired and in a thoughtful mood when she came to get Bendy and Inky. The workday had moved along at a slow pace, thankfully, but guilt had pinched her sharply at seeing Andrew, and it had only grown when he and Marge had asked about the latest visit to The Ink World.

So much had happened aside from meeting Grant Cohen, of course, that Audrey had managed to focus on those happenings instead, and soon the focus had fallen on the duplicate of Joey Drew. Marge and Andrew each warned Audrey to be careful around him, given how sneaky and underhanded the real Joey Drew had been in life—seemingly charismatic and charming while hiding a much darker, manipulative nature.

The accusations were more than a little justified when it came to her father, although Audrey assured them that Henry and the others were keeping a close eye on him, and he was helping to decode important documents left by Wilson and Gent.

Everything would work out when it came to Grant Cohen, Audrey told herself, as she got carried along by the tide of ink and through the nozzle.

She popped out into the basement to find, once again, it was a veritable hive of activity. There were tic-tac-toe games scrawled across the walls, a hopscotch game along the floor, and checker boards alongside chessboards and other boards piled atop a table off to one side. There were origami animals, most notably rabbits, scattered across the floor, as well as cards from what had probably been a couple of decks.

Then Audrey noticed everyone was down here, and they were sitting back-to-back in chairs while music played on the phonograph nearby. It took Audrey a few seconds to register that they were playing musical chairs. Tom and Allison stood off to one side with some of the chairs, as did Henry and Betty, and the competition was down to, of all things, Bendy against Joey Drew.

From a bench next to the phonograph, Wandering greeted, “Welcome back, Audrey.” They had a gentle smile on their face and were humming softly even with the music.

“It looks like everyone is having a good time.”

“Yes, we are,” Wandering said.

Audrey considered them. “Have you been participating in the games too?”

“Sometimes. Mostly, we have been watching.” Wandering nodded at their friends. “We enjoy watching them and belonging among that joy.” They moved a finger, and the music stopped abruptly.

Bendy hopped onto the final chair available.

Inky emerged to glare down at Joey. “I win against you again, Drew!” He sniggered.

Then Bendy noticed her. “Audrey, you should see everything we’ve been doing today. Wandering is so much fun. They suggested so many things to do!”

Henry and the others turned to offer their greetings as well.

“How about a game before you go, Audrey?” Wandering said. There was a certain tranquility in their expression that she hadn’t noticed that morning. As if they had, at last, figured something out that had been troubling them for a while.

“All right, one game of musical chairs, and then we’ll go home,” Audrey said.

A cheer went up.

Laughter abounded.

And a good time was had.

Chapter Text

Henry sat in his bedroom at the manor that evening. Papers covered his desk, although he had made efforts to organize them into manageable stacks, including various sketches and decoded lab notes to review. There was also a mysterious theory book from the library that Joey said analyzed the relationship between forces and elements within The Studio—which he had further clarified basically went over facts they already knew. Audrey had inherited the sketch book and guardianship over The Ink Machine, and her actions and presence had made notable changes to this Cycle in The Studio.

Of course, he planned to have a more thorough conversation with Joey related to the book soon, since there seemed to be more to do it than that, right after he figured out what to do about his latest letter exchanges with Audrey.

Life both inside and outside The Studio had fallen into an easy rhythm. It seemed things in the days since their last visit had stayed calm enough for Audrey even with Bendy now able to speak in The Real World. Apparently, her landlord—a peculiar old man in his own right—assumed Bendy had simply gotten over some type of long-term shyness and become a chatterbox, while Marge and Andrew were still in awe of his newfound voice.

Her co-worker friends, however, were where the issue plaguing his mind now rested.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m lying to Andrew by not telling him about his father,” Audrey confessed in one of their exchanges. “He has come up several times in our discussions, and I can tell Andrew still feels terrible that he doesn’t know exactly what happened to him. But I understand what Grant said as well…”

Audrey would move on swiftly to other topics, such as gathering the art supplies to begin coloring The Studio, but Henry could tell Grant Cohen was on her mind the whole time. And the more Henry thought about the matter, the more it bothered him as well—because he knew Audrey would continue to worry and might even lose sleep over it.

Henry mused on the subject as the hours ticked away.

***

Betty rose early that morning to make tea. A peaceful atmosphere hung about the manor, which she had come to rely on and savor the longer it lasted. Because fear didn’t lurk around every corner anymore, and the only occupants of this household were her friends. They were safe in their rooms along the main hallway, and they treated her as an equal—unlike Wilson.

His name still made her shudder sometimes. It was hard to believe he was truly gone, even now, and Betty would find herself expecting to see him step out from around a corner to snap an order at her or demand to know what she had done to his manor in his absence. Then her friends would always emerge from their rooms, and another fruitful day would get underway spent in dispersing the shadows of the past.

They were marvels, all of them.

Hopefully she was a helpful part of their team.

Betty stifled a chuckle and stepped into the dining room on her way to the kitchen. She was nearly past the table when, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a dark, hunched shape and nearly jumped sideways.

It was Henry, half slumped over the table amid several papers, asleep with his head resting on his folded arms.

The startled gasp that had been climbing her throat turned into a deep, relieved sigh. Betty hurried away and retrieved a blanket to settle around his shoulders, and her glance fell on a few pages that had fallen onto the floor. She reached down to gather them and couldn’t help but notice they were some of the letters to and from Audrey, where Henry had underlined a few lines.

Betty had never considered herself the type of person to snoop. Such a thing, if discovered, would have led to serious consequences when Wilson or The Keepers were still around the manor, and besides that, it was terribly rude. However, concern over what would cause Henry to fall asleep here at the dining room table rather than his soft, comfy bed drew her attention to the words on the sheet now clutched in her hand.

Several minutes later, as Betty heated a kettle of water, she called out softly, “Good morning, Wandering. Could you please spare a moment?”

An impish head and a pair of shoulders poked out from the wall, surrounded by an ink puddle. “Good morning, Betty,” they replied. “What can we do for you?”

“Do you happen to know what Mr. Cohen has been up to lately?”

Wandering considered it. “Give us 15 minutes,” they murmured and slid back out of sight.

This period was long enough for her to bake oatmeal cookies. Betty held one of them up to the wall at the appropriate time, and a gloved hand reached out to accept it.

“Grant Cohen is staying at a hotel in Lost City,” Wandering reported. “He has been bookkeeping for the businesses along Main Street and in Ink Harmony Park.”

Another way life had changed was the use of slugs as a viable currency. According to Allison, they had once been stuck into vending machines simply to access the items inside, ranging from candy bars to tools, but now The Lost Ones exchanged them to purchase and sell goods.

Betty had never needed to use currency of any type until recently. However, she understood the concept and was doing her best to support the developing economy—which meant she had a whole jar of slugs on a shelf in the parlor, free for anyone to use. And it was amazing what you could come across at the shops nowadays, since Lost Ones such as Porter went on expeditions to deep parts of The Studio and returned with any number of treasures to enjoy. There were also whole sections at the market dedicated to any new selections of food Audrey had added through the sketch book, and at least one report that a few Lost Ones were going to open a restaurant in Lost City.

In any case, a skilled bookkeeper probably did come in handy nowadays.

“Thank you very much, Wandering,” Betty said. “Did you enjoy the cookie?”

Wandering nodded their head, quite content. “Yes.”

“Wonderful.” Betty clapped her hands together. “I’ll make a trip into Lost City after breakfast to do some shopping, and to speak with Mr. Cohen, if possible.” Here was a way for her to help not only Henry, but also Audrey.

“Well, I guess that’s settled, then.”

Betty whirled about to find Henry standing at the threshold into the kitchen, the folded blanket over one arm.

“Good morning, Henry,” Wandering said, before they noted aloud that the kettle had started to whistle.

***

At breakfast, Henry announced that he and Betty would board a subway train and head towards Lost City. Tom and Allison exchanged looks, and then Allison said they planned to navigate their way to Ink Harmony Park by other means.

“We want to explore all the possible ways in and out of the manor, for security reasons and simply for our own knowledge,” Allison said. She had several maps stuck into a satchel slung from one shoulder and had been creating them of places throughout The Studio, which she would then place in the library for their reference. “Besides,” she added in a low voice to Henry as they neared the end of their meal, “we thought you two might appreciate some time alone.”

Henry saw the way Allison glanced towards Betty, and he coughed to clear his throat. He didn’t say anything. It felt like whatever came out of his mouth would be somehow incriminating. However, an issue did occur to him. “Wait, we need someone to keep an eye on Joey.”

“Wandering will be here,” Tom said.

“They have forgotten about Joey in the past,” Henry replied.

Wandering finished another oatmeal cookie. “We have been aware of his presence since Joey came to stay in the manor, and we will make sure he doesn’t deviate from his work or cause trouble.” They looked around at everyone. “We want to do it.”

Henry had to smile at Wandering. They had done their best to assert themselves in little ways since the last time Audrey, Bendy, and Inky had come for a visit. So, he patted them on the shoulder and said, “All right, take care of things for us here, then.”

Wandering gave him a thumbs up and ran right into the nearest wall.

“They have been in a very good mood lately,” Betty observed aloud. “I’m happy for them.”

“Me too.” Henry helped to gather up the empty plates and brought them to the kitchen. Then he nodded to Betty. “Let’s go.”

***

As Joey Drew continued to take his notes and set them off to one side, which had grown into a ponderous stack, he heard the subtle sound of the door to the hallway and room beyond sliding shut. Further, the other door of the laboratory that led to the bottom of the steps up to the rest of the manor locked with a subtle click.

He sat in silence for a while, growing uneasy, and listened.

When nothing happened for several minutes on end, Joey went back to his work. However, he had the definite feeling of being watched afterwards.

***

“I really should apologize to you,” Betty said as she and Henry rode the train, “for reading your letters, I mean.” She gazed at the windows and saw her reflection, as a woman without a mask still getting used to having her facial expression on full display all the time. Becoming adjusted to that difference had been a process, although Betty had done her best not to make too much of a fuss about it.

Instead, her hands tightened on the fabric of her skirt, as they sometimes had in the past while seated and trying to ease her own anxieties. She admired the frankness of the expressions Henry allowed to fill his face, which he had never been afraid to show and on this occasion registered surprise tempered by sympathy.

He was also very perceptive.

“Those letters have never been a secret, so there is nothing for you to apologize about. I’ve done my best to share whatever Audrey and I have discussed with everyone,” Henry assured her, and Betty knew it was true. “To be honest, I’d brought them over to the dining room not only because the table there had more space on which to spread them out, but because I wanted to speak with you about them anyway. I wanted to hear your thoughts and sound out a few ideas.”

“Goodness, really?”

Henry smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “You simply beat me to announcing plans to see Grant Cohen for Audrey’s sake.” He gazed at her face and chuckled, which led Betty to glance over at her reflection. She looked as surprised as Henry had a short while ago. “There’s something else bothering you, though, isn’t there, Betty?” he continued quietly, his face and tone growing more serious.

“Since you and I met, and since everyone has come to stay in the manor, life has become wonderful, but there are still times I worry something will happen to break apart that happiness, or that one day Wilson might somehow come back.” Betty hadn’t meant to admit the last part, yet it slipped free all the same, and her gaze dropped in shame for introducing such a terrible subject when things were so peaceful. “It shouldn’t bother me, but I can’t help it.”

Henry laid his hand on hers. “Hey, it’s all right. I still feel the same way sometimes,” he confessed. “There have been many occasions where I’ve feared waking up in a cell for Cyclebreakers again in the Old Gent Workshop and finding this whole thing has been a dream. That’s why it’s more important to me than ever to make sure The Studio and our friends stay safe from Gent. I want to enjoy building a life that can last and won’t be reset back to a nightmare.”

Betty stopped gripping her skirt and carefully, tremblingly, rotated her hand so her fingers slid between Henry’s fingers. “Me too,” she agreed.

“Then we can build our lives together,” Henry squeezed her hand.

There were tears along the rims of her eyes. Betty noticed them all too clearly on her face and in her reflection.

She let them stay.

They seemed to sparkle with the promise of an ever-brightening future.

***

Lost City bustled with life. Lost Ones, most of them wearing various adornments to distinguish themselves from one another, flocked to shops and engaged in animated conversations. It was a huge change from the old days when the whole place had been so quiet but prone to sudden, violent squabbles.

Henry couldn’t help but smile at the transition, and arm-in-arm with Betty, they navigated the crowds and stopped a few passersby to ask about the whereabouts of Grant Cohen. They even got a response, which hurried their steps towards Ink Harmony Park, which was even more vibrant than Lost City. Its visitors rested on the grass, strolled along the lake, or headed towards the plaza.

They found Grant Cohen at The Tasty Pizza, deep in a dispute with Buddy while Porter and Heidi watched. “Oh, hello Henry and Betty.” Porter tipped a nonexistent hat to them. “Long time, no see.”

Heidi giggled. “We were here to chat with Buddy about regaining his memories and to get to know Dot better, but Grant wanted to chat with them even more, so we’re waiting for our turn. You are free to sit down at our booth if you like!”

Meanwhile, behind the front counter, Buddy had handed Grant a piece of paper.

“You’ve never kept any financial records or receipts at all?” Grant muttered in astonishment.

Buddy hung his head.

“It sounds like no one started to pay for anything around here until a short while ago,” Dot spoke up, her arms crossed, “and even now it’s more like a grateful gesture than a requirement. Leave Buddy alone.”

Grant heaved an exasperated sigh. “I understand those facts, ma’am—”

“That’s Ms. Turner to you.”

“I understand those facts, Ms. Turner, but it’s obvious there is an economy just getting underway here, and I am in the unique position of helping to make sure everything stays organized from the beginning.” Grant frowned. “What else do you expect me to do? I’m an accountant.”

“I’m a writer, but now I’m also helping my friend with this pizza parlor—because it’s actually necessary,” Dot snapped back.

Porter blinked. “This could take a while.” He looked between Henry, Betty, and Heidi. “Maybe we should order something while we wait. Their milkshakes are a huge step up from bacon soup.”

However, Henry instead decided to calm down the situation in front of him before it could escalate any further. He stepped forward. “Pardon me, Mr. Cohen?”

Grant paused in the middle of a retort to turn and look at him. “Ah, it’s Mr. Stein, right?”

“Call me Henry, and you’ve met Betty as well.” He motioned her forward, and she offered a curtsy. After Grant had given them both a polite nod of the head, Henry went on, “Could we talk for a moment?”

Grant frowned. “All right, I suppose I can spare a few minutes for the ‘guardians of The Studio,’ or whatever the name of your organization happens to be.” He followed them to the farthest booth in the pizza parlor, and as they passed the front counter, Henry noticed Buddy shoot him a grateful look.

He would need to catch up with Buddy later, Henry knew. A lot could change when a person got his or her memories back, and Henry had never seen the story Buddy had mentioned to Dot. It was unclear how much he knew about Gent, but every little bit helped.

Henry and Betty slipped onto a seat in the booth opposite to Grant.

“So, what can I do for you two?” Grant asked, then asked with a hopeful twist to his tone, “I don’t suppose you’d like to invite me to do some accounts for your group?”

“I’m afraid not,” Henry replied. “We’re here to talk about your son, Andrew.”

Grant’s face grew stern and set. “I believe I already made myself clear on that point to your young lady friend.”

“We know, Mr. Cohen,” Betty said. “It’s just, you see, Audrey has mentioned that not knowing what has become of you still worries your son a great deal.”

Henry nodded. “Andrew is a good friend of Audrey’s.”

Grant’s frown grew. “Is Audrey your daughter?” He glanced between them.

Betty appeared surprised, and Henry rubbed the back of his neck. “She isn’t our daughter, exactly,” he admitted. “But she is very important to us, and to many of our other friends as well. And your son is a good friend of hers.”

“Wait a minute. Are Andrew and Audrey—?”

“Oh no,” Henry held up a hand, sure that he knew exactly where the sentence had been going. “Andrew is very close to another of Audrey’s friends, by the name of Marge. They’re a couple.”

“Marge, huh?” Grant leaned back, and a small smile tweaked his lips. “My son is an animator, and he’s in love. He has really grown up, even without his old man around. If you’re asking me to somehow tell him that I’m alive and kicking here in this alternate reality, or whatever this place is, my answer is still no.”

“We’re not asking you to do that,” Henry said. He sighed. It had been something he and Betty had discussed on the subway, while holding hands, as they mused on how much Audrey had done for them and their own experiences with her—including, as Betty had pointed out, exchanging letters. He locked gazes with the accountant. “Throughout The Studio, there have been countless messages and recordings left by Lost Ones, like echoes of their thoughts or things they want others to remember.”

Henry fished around in his pocket and pulled out a blank sheet of sketch paper, alongside a pencil. He laid these items on the table in front of Grant and said, “If there is anything you want to tell Andrew, we wanted to at least give you the opportunity to have some closure. Because other Lost Ones haven’t been so lucky as to have family members who we could help them contact in the same way, or who might understand what has happened to you the way your son might.”

Grant gazed down at the page. His expression was inscrutable.

“You don’t need to do it right away, or even at all,” Betty added. “We just thought there might be a few things you might want to share with him or other loved ones.”

They sat in silence for a long time.

Porter and Heidi talked to Buddy and Dot in the pizza parlor, about things there were to do around Lost City and Ink Harmony Park, such as joining Sammy Lawrence’s band—which planned to play a special number at the Grand Opening of the Ink Harmony Community Theater in a couple of days, if Sammy could get them to carry a note together.

It was almost like hearing a radio station in the background, though. Something far away from what occupied center stage.

Then Grant pulled the paper over to him and began to write. Within minutes, he had filled the whole sheet. He turned it over and continued to write, almost to the very bottom. Neither Henry nor Betty dared to interrupt him.

When he was done, Grant folded the paper and handed it to Henry. “Make sure this message gets given directly to Andrew,” he said, with the slightest tremor in his voice. “I still don’t know exactly what to make of where we are now.” He gestured around at the parlor, and towards the windows looking out onto Ink Harmony Park. “But I’ll do what I can to contribute to it.”

“Thank you, Mr. Cohen,” Betty said.

“Your group is persistent,” Grant replied. “I kind of wish the folks in many of the places where I wound up working looked out for each other like that, such as at Joey Drew Studios.”

***

That afternoon, Henry wrote a message to Audrey, with Betty seated by his side.

A short while later, in the evening, Audrey came to retrieve the folded letter. And then she handed it to Andrew and told him that it had been discovered in The Ink Machine.

Andrew unfolded and read the note, while Marge stayed close to his side. He gently lowered it. “It’s a message my father must have written from some type of holding cell. It includes a warning to beware of Gent… but he spends most of it,” he paused, and then restarted, “he spends most of it saying how proud he is to have me as a son, and how much he loves me and my mother. He mentions his hopes that I will have a bright future, meet someone special, and have a long and happy life.”

Marge placed an arm around him.

“So, Gent did get him. He didn’t just disappear or leave us, all those years ago,” Andrew murmured. “It doesn’t make losing him any easier, but thank you for giving this to me, Audrey. It means a lot.”

They shared a group hug there in The Exhibition Room.

The knowledge they shared didn’t make everything better, but it made a difference.

Chapter Text

The kitchen table was a tapestry of colors. Oil and acrylic paints, pencils, crayons, and tubes of glitter covered its surface. Audrey had gone so far as to pick up a selection of wallpaper samples from a local home improvement store. She had wanted to introduce as many hues and textures to The Ink World as possible, so they could begin filling the whole place with them, while hopefully spreading the warmth that would also give Wandering enough energy to grant the wish for Inky to appear in The Real World.

Even with the wish she had made to keep their minds separate, Audrey found herself keeping a close eye on Bendy and Inky for any signs they were merging. Certainly, they got along well enough, in the way she would expect of inseparable siblings, but it still gave her trouble in falling asleep some nights. She would gaze across their shared room at Bendy in his bed, tightly hugging his bunny plushie, Fluffy—while oftentimes wearing his bunny ears as if to complete his pajamas—and would see the subtle outline of the small mirror now attached to his bowtie. Given the darkness, she couldn’t see Inky in the reflection, which sometimes reminded Audrey of her nightmare at the manor.

However, the sight of Bendy’s growing, pie-cut eyes taking in the spread that Audrey laid out on the table, and even Inky looking on in solemnity, was enough to chase away such fears for the time being.

“It’s all so… beautiful,” Bendy murmured, beaming. There were actual tears of joy in his eyes.

Inky, meanwhile, had his own reaction to the layout. “Let’s test it on Tom,” was his suggestion.

“Absolutely not,” Audrey said, crossing her arms and frowning at Inky’s reflection in the mirror above the table.

“Tom should feel honored to be the first one considered to receive a fresh coat of paint. It wouldn’t be the same as changing him altogether.” Inky sniggered. “Besides, given that old Joey Drew isn’t in the sketch book, the grumpy wolf is the next best choice.”

“No one is getting colored in until tomorrow,” Audrey insisted. “Tonight, our main goal is to place samples of all the colors here on this table into the sketch book, so Wandering can produce them in much larger amounts in The Ink World. I’m also going to draw in brushes for everyone to use in deciding their own desired hues, and to help paint various areas, for when we go there tomorrow.”

Inky snorted. “Fine,” he grumbled.

Tomorrow would be her day off, which meant the three of them could slip into The Ink Machine in the early morning and stay there until that evening, or perhaps even until the following morning depending on how things went.

She smiled at the thought.

“Couldn’t we try coloring a few things tonight?” Bendy begged.

“Bendy,” Audrey patted him between his horns, “I just said—”

“I didn’t mean coloring anyone. We could try it on some chairs and other stuff instead—please?” The cartoonish imp latched onto her arm and gazed up at her with a pleading yet cheerful expression that instantly made her resolve waver, even as Inky continued to grumble in irritation.

Audrey frowned. “Well, I guess it would be all right to paint a few objects. It might even give Wandering a good point of reference.”

“Yay!” Bendy bounced on his chair.

Inky huffed. “Of course, you would agree to Bendy’s idea instead of mine.”

“You wanted to paint Tom as a prank,” Audrey said, taking a seat in the chair beside Bendy and clearing enough space to open the sketch book to a blank page. At the top, she addressed it as another letter to Henry, stressing that what followed were color samples and asking him to confirm the hues had reached The Ink World intact.

“I did not say it would be a prank…” Inky muttered, although he trailed off in an evasive way that only confirmed Audrey’s suspicions. Then he pressed on, “You only agreed to Bendy’s request because he acted ridiculous to get his way.”

“No, I didn’t!” Bendy insisted. “And Audrey only said no to you because you wanted to do something mean again.”

“It is not being mean. You just don’t understand the thrill of pranking. Otherwise, you would beg Audrey to let us do it, and she would probably listen because you would use your annoying cuteness on her.”

Audrey had just received a message back from Henry that said he was at his desk and ready for the color samples when Inky’s comment registered with her. She paused, sensing the agitation went a bit deeper than his usual brashness, and looked at him.

“Wait a minute… Inky, are you jealous?”

“How could I ever be jealous of someone like Bendy?” Inky thundered.

Bendy cocked his head. “You’re jealous of me? Why? You’re big and powerful.”

Inky snorted. “And confined,” he blustered, and then seemed to realize what he had said, and by implication, had admitted.

“Only for a little bit longer,” Audrey soothed. “You can come out all the way in The Ink World, and soon you’ll be able to do the same thing out here.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Inky rumbled. “That Andrew is irritating, but he did manage to make an actual point. Even if I can emerge here, I would need to stay cooped up. I could never wander free again. Not that I was truly free when I could, even then. If Bendy gets discovered, people could mistake him for a big toy or something, or they might even accept him as a ‘walkaround character.’ Like I was supposed to be.”

Audrey stared at him as the realization sunk in. “Oh, Inky…”

“I told you not to pity me once, and I will do it again,” Inky rasped, growing sulkier.

“Well, back then I told you the same thing that I’ll say again,” Audrey insisted. “It’s not pity but concern. We’ll figure something out for when you’re able to gain your full form here in The Real World. Besides, like Bendy said—you’re big and powerful.”

Inky grumbled something indiscernible.

Audrey scooted her chair closer to the mirror. “You’re a big and powerful guardian of The Ink World.”

A snort.

She scooted her chair yet closer, and Bendy followed suit. “You’re a big and powerful guardian of The Ink World with an intimidating aura any enemy would fear.”

Inky listened in silence.

Bendy, finding the pattern contagious, said, “You’re a big and powerful guardian of The Ink World with an intimidating aura any enemy would fear….” He paused, fumbling for the best detail to add to the description, “…who is the best prankster ever?”

They sat there in expectant silence until Inky growled, “Stop staring at me. I know I am great and powerful, so start putting down those samples.”

“All right,” Audrey said. “Just remember we love you for who you are, Inky.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Inky huffed.

“We really do,” Bendy agreed.

“I get it already!”

With that confirmation, they set to work. Seated side-by-side, Audrey and Bendy grabbed the various types of tools to add streaks of color in the messages sent directly to Henry, who reportedly the colors had made the trip intact.

“I know of colors thanks to my memories,” Henry wrote, “but these are even more vibrant than recalled. Betty loves them as well.”

It took a few hours to include all the colors they had gathered, and then sprinkle in the glitter—although Audrey wound up needing to draw out the textured designs. Bendy began to nod off so gradually that Audrey didn’t realize just how tired he was while they added color to the trees in Ink Harmony Park, as a surprise for the Lost Ones there.

There came a soft thud from beside her, and Audrey turned to see Bendy’s head on the table. A green crayon dropped out of his gloved fingers and onto the floor.

“If it were me, I would have at least given some of the trees different shades, and not just made them green and brown,” Inky grumbled as Audrey gently cradled Bendy in her arms.

“Maybe we can experiment with other combinations as well when we’re in The Ink World together,” Audrey said. “Nothing says every object of a certain type needs to be the same color, and the trees out here in The Real World come in a wide variety as well. You should have mentioned it.”

Entering their shared room, Inky snorted from the bowtie mirror as if dismissing the idea altogether.

Audrey slipped Bendy into bed and tucked his plush bunny under one arm, which he immediately squeezed tight. Then she touched the tip of her fingertip to Inky’s reflection, right between his horns, in a comforting gesture. “I value your input, Inky.” She paused, then frowned. “You… still worry about how you are sometimes, don’t you?”

“I refuse to rage about it right now,” Inky grumbled. “If Bendy wakes up, it will cause problems and be annoying, so drop the subject, okay?”

Audrey sighed. “You are a unique individual, Inky,” she said, “and so is Bendy. I don’t want either of you to forget that—because you’re both important to me.”

“You still worry about us merging, don’t you?” Inky rasped.

“Sometimes,” she admitted. “I don’t want to lose either of you.”

“Like I said to old Joey, Bendy and I are too different from each other. You’re letting him get into your head, and for that I will make him pay.”

Audrey smiled. “You know, you and Bendy are alike in a very significant way.”

“Oh yeah, how?”

“You are both very sweet.” Amid the yawning stillness that followed this observation, Audrey murmured, “Goodnight, Bendy.” She kissed the imp gently atop one horn, and then kissed the tip of her finger and pressed it against the mirror. “Goodnight, Inky.”

Audrey had slipped into bed when she heard Inky mutter, “Goodnight, Audrey.”

***

The next morning, they had breakfast earlier than usual. Bendy made the scrambled eggs, and Audrey handled the bacon. Meanwhile, Inky read from the copy of Frankenstein he had gotten at their birthday celebrations. It was probably his third or fourth time going through the book, and the spine was becoming so creased it was hard to see the title along the spine.

“Mary Shelley must have known about The Ink Machine,” Inky grumbled, “and written in code to prevent retaliation from Gent.” Whether or not he was being serious was debatable, although Audrey was mostly just happy that he was reading so much.

“Mary Shelley wrote Frankenstein a long time before The Ink Machine existed,” Audrey said, “or even Gent.”

Bendy considered it. “Maybe she knew about the Spring of Dreams?”

“I don’t think so,” Audrey said. “Then again, for all I know, the legend of it might have influenced more than a few stories out in the world.”

They mused on the matter while enjoying their meal, and then they headed off to Archgate Films. On the way, Audrey squeezed Bendy’s hand and thought about Frankenstein, alongside what Inky had mentioned the other night. He probably could sympathize more with Frankenstein’s creation than many of its readers, even though Audrey and Bendy had come from The Ink Machine as well. Inky had needed to endure more rejection for how he appeared than any of the other residents of The Ink World.

What would it have been like if Audrey had emerged from The Ink Machine, looking strange and twisted, before her father? Would he have rejected her as he had Inky, or would the wish he had made at The Ink Machine have still opened his eyes and heart in understanding?

She sighed. There was only one person she could ask about such matters, and a part of her argued that it wouldn’t do any good to dwell on such things long after the fact. After all, Audrey knew what was important right now, which was that Inky and Bendy each felt recognized and accepted for who they were as individuals. They needed to live in the present.

Audrey and Bendy waved to Mrs. Fern at the front desk, who nodded as if to acknowledge them before resuming an animated conversation with Harvey. From what Audrey could tell, it involved odd sounds heard inside the walls recently.

“Spooked me something dreadful, I can tell you,” Mrs. Fern said. “But they passed as quickly as they came. I’ve heard stories about how big rats can get around here, and the way they can invade buildings and cause public health violations. I was even sure I heard squeaking.”

“Nah, this place is too clean,” Harvey muttered. “Rats at Archgate Films? Forget about it.”

“Well, I’m going to tell Mr. Arch about it when he comes in tomorrow, and I’m sure he’ll at least lay down some traps for them or call in an exterminator to check. It’s not good for the reputation of the studio, if news gets around that we might have a rat problem.” Then Mrs. Fern paused. “Is there something you needed, Audrey?”

Audrey realized, much to her dismay, that she had paused to hear more of their conversation. “Oh, I’m sorry. I just got distracted for a moment there,” she fumbled.

Mrs. Fern seemed to accept this response. “Happens to the best of us,” she muttered.

“Right…”

Bendy tugged on her hand, and they hurried off. “Did something bother you, Audrey?” the cartoonish imp asked when they were on the elevator. “I don’t think I like rats. There is a rat who appears in my Fluffy the Bunny books, and he’s nasty to everyone else. He bullies them.”

“There were rats at Joey Drew Studios,” Inky grumbled from the bowtie mirror.

“There were?” Bendy looked horrified at the thought.

“Yeah, there were rats everywhere.” Inky sniggered. “You should have heard them squeak when I chased after them.”

Bendy shivered. “Are there really rats here, Audrey? I don’t remember ever coming across any.” He was likely thinking about the period right after the Cycle had reset, Audrey knew—when he had hidden out around Archgate Films.

Those days seemed so long ago now.

As for what Inky was referring to… well, once again he was showing off just how much he had learned from his books.

“Don’t worry. Archgate Films is a good place,” Audrey assured Bendy and Inky, albeit for different reasons. “There are no rats here, and Mr. Arch wouldn’t tolerate them.”

“He tolerated Wilson being here,” Inky grumbled as they reached the appropriate floor, and the doors slid open.

“I don’t think he realized Wilson was around Archgate Films,” Audrey said. She decided not to address the possibility that if Wilson had been around the studio without Mr. Arch’s knowledge, there could be other things creeping around in the same way. “Besides, Wilson was his son.”

The elevator doors slid open.

Bendy looked thoughtful as they headed into the Exhibition Room. “Do you think Wilson was always bad?”

“I’m sure he wasn’t at first,” Audrey said. “But he became bad over time because of all his decisions and grudges.” She paused, considering it. “A little like my father.” Her gaze fell on the poster to announce the exhibit on display as “Joey Drew: The Man and the Demon,” where her father stood highlighted and celebrated as the creator of Bendy the Dancing Demon, and she recalled the dance party they had enjoyed down in the basement of the manor.

A comment Henry had made about the Real-World Henry Stein came to mind, “Nice to know he stayed in animation afterwards, although it’d be nice if he got some credit for Bendy, Alice Angel, and Boris the Wolf. He probably still thinks about them sometimes.”

When Mr. Arch came into Archgate Films the next day, maybe it would be the best opportunity for Audrey to address the issue with him—although it was hard to say if her boss would believe the trio of cartoon characters were Henry’s ideas in the first place. It might just be too much for him to accept given how highly he thought of Joey Drew.

“You are zoning out again, Audrey,” Inky rasped.

“Sorry, you two. Let’s go,” she said, leading the way towards The Ink Machine.

***

The manor was abuzz with activity when they popped out into the basement. Colors covered the walls in organized patches reminiscent of an art gallery, each one with buckets of paint and paintbrushes arranged on the floor underneath them. Their friends were walking around and gazing at them in undisguised wonder.

Audrey couldn’t blame them, even though she could only imagine what it might be like to see colors for the first time. She had written in the names of the colors under each entry into the sketchbook, which Wandering had now included underneath the respective patches, and which got read aloud with as much wonder as a someone might a description beside the Mona Lisa or another famous painting.

Even Henry, arm-in-arm with Betty, appeared amazed.

He was also the first one to spot Audrey, Bendy, and Inky. “You outdid yourselves,” Henry praised them. “The colors here will add an extra dimension to Lost City, Ink Harmony Park, and other parts of The Studio.”

“The Lost Ones are already excited,” Allison said. “They woke up to the trees you guys did in Ink Harmony Park, and huge groups of them have gathered to consider them.”

“They are easy to excite,” Inky huffed, but there was an edge of smug pride to his tone. “We have just gotten started.”

“That’s right,” Betty agreed, clearly struggling to suppress her own excitement. She picked up two paintbrushes and handed them to Audrey and Bendy. “And we should keep going as soon as possible.”

With that declaration, everyone grabbed paintbrushes and set to work.

They began with the manor, of course. The paintbrushes were set up to cover wide areas with each stroke, thanks partly—from what Audrey understood—Wandering helping to spread the paint around.

Wandering remained within the walls but seemed to bounce around from place to place. Betty, for instance, stroked a portion of the main hallway’s floor with a rich lavender hue and noted aloud, “I think the rest of the carpet here would be perfect in this same hue,” and the shade swept along the length of the hallway. Shortly afterwards, in the parlor, Tom wiped a brush with a creamy hue across one of the couches and added rosy splotches to represent roses at Allison’s recommendation, and he grunted, “Well, it will do for the couches, at least”—which gave way to both couches getting covered in a creamy base with rosebud designs all over them.

Inky splashed a whole bucket of light blue paint into the fountain in the foyer and said, “There, spread it around and make sure it is transparent,” which created a bright cerulean effect much like clear water. Then Inky gave way to Bendy, who slid down one of the banisters with a brush covered in gray, marbled paint, which Wandering allowed to cover the rest of the stairs as well.

Henry painted the dining room table a mahogany hue, gave the pictures golden frames, and asked Wandering to take a paintbrush with a light-blue hue that seemed appropriate for glass and apply it to the chandelier above the table, which they obliged by doing without hesitation.

Wandering even went ahead and did a fair portion of the front foyer, including its chandelier, and everyone agreed it was well done.

Inevitably, perhaps, each of the painters soon had flecks of paint on them.

The temptation for Inky to carry out some mischief under these circumstances was also probably inevitable.

Tom opened the door into the room where the grand piano stood, heard Bendy shout, “Watch out, Tom!” but wasn’t fast enough to avoid getting splashed by a bucket of blue paint that Inky was holding.

“Oops, you should have knocked, Tom,” Inky rasped, “Or maybe you just wanted to sample the paint I had planned to test out on the door for yourself.”

Tom growled low in his throat. He trembled with fury, holding the paint bucket and his brush, while Inky bellowed in laughter and looked ready to rock back onto the floor. That is… until he got splashed by a bucket filled with red paint originally meant for some of the books on the shelves.

Inky roared, “Wandering, send me more of the paint containers from the basement.”

Paint containers popped into view, and sensing his vulnerability, Tom grabbed several of them as a paint battle got underway.

***

While the situation intensified upstairs, Audrey headed down the staircase towards the laboratory. She gave this passage a light tan coat of paint; however, checking on Joey Drew was also on her mind, as was addressing the question heavy of how to prove Henry Stein had created Bendy, Alice Angel, and Boris—or at least got some credit for bringing them to life. His name was nonexistent in the exhibition room, and Audrey would be willing to bet very few people realized Henry Stein had even worked at Joey Drew Studios.

She had managed to have a civil conversation with Joey, who still considered himself her father. But it was still awkward to come here alone, and to peer into the laboratory, where Joey was hard at work decoding more documents.

Audrey took a deep breath and opened the door.

Joey paused and swiveled slowly in his chair. “Oh, Audrey. Come on in,” he spoke genially but carefully. He didn’t get up and try to approach her for a fatherly hug. Instead, he said, “What do you want to talk about?” as if reading her mind.

Then again, maybe it was easy enough for him to guess that the only reason Audrey would come down here would be to discuss something important.

She felt a bit guilty about that idea. About her awkwardness.

Audrey met his gaze. “I’m here to talk about Henry Stein from The Real World and the credit he deserves.”

***

Henry strolled along the main hallway, admiring the progress they had made in a few short hours. There was still a lot to do in the manor before spreading their efforts out towards Lost City and Ink Harmony Park, but he had to admit the coats of paint made this place feel brand new in a wonderful way.

He smiled and chuckled to himself, gazing down at himself. There were bits of paint here and there, and he had spent the previous evening thinking about what colors he would choose for himself—while also speculating on how the others might look. Especially Betty.

Then a blot of yellow paint shot out of the door near the end of the hall, and he heard Inky roar and Tom shout an indiscernible insult back at him.

Uh oh.

He hurried down the hall and peered into the room with the piano to find a confusion of hues all over the place. Tom stood near the center of the room, hurling globs of paint at Inky, who avoided many of these assaults by diving into the wall and coming out at other points, flinging paint of his own.

From the bowtie mirror, Bendy noticed Henry and shouted, “Henry, help! Inky and Tom are having a paint fight! You’ve got to stop—!” Then green paint splatted against the mirror and silenced him.

“Hey, we’re supposed to be painting the manor,” Henry called into the room. “Stop messing around.”

“Stay out of this, Henry,” Inky snapped as he barreled past. “I’m not going to stop until this grouchy wolf is completely covered in paint.”

“Tom!” Henry tried instead.

However, Tom simply grunted. “You’d better get out of here, Henry,” he said in his gravelly voice. “You won’t get anywhere trying to reason with this oversized ink blot.”

“You’ve already called me that twice in the last ten minutes,” Inky growled out. “Can’t you think of anything original?”

“I will show you ‘original,’” Tom blustered, hurling more handfuls of paint.

Henry frowned. He backed out of the room and turned to the wall. “Wandering, shouldn’t you do something?”

Wandering poked their head out of the wall. “Just Inky told us not to interrupt him, and he is having fun. So, we have been watching them compete, and it has been very entertaining.” They paused in apparent confusion. “Did we say something wrong?”

Henry groaned, covering his face with a hand.

***

Meanwhile, Joey heaved a deep sigh. Now he did indeed get up and face her. “I was waiting for this conversation,” he said.

“You were?”

Joey nodded. “How could I not? Henry Stein was an important person in my… in the Real Joey Drew’s life, and given what you have found out, it was only a matter of time before you approached me about giving him due credit for his contributions. I am only surprised the Henry here hasn’t brought it up with me. Of course, he has other priorities.”

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Part of my purpose is to wrap up all the loose ends Joey Drew left behind him, and to perhaps help fix some of his messes. I have been entrusted with this letter since my creation.”

“Do you mean my father wrote this letter?” Audrey asked, gingerly taking the envelope.

Joey sunk back onto his chair. “Yes, he did, and with any luck it will help to right a wrong committed a long time ago.”

Audrey pulled the letter out of the envelope and unfolded it. Even though she didn’t remember much about her father, for some reason Audrey knew she would have recognized the curly, grandiose flourishes of these words as belonging to him. And as she read what her father had written, it confirmed what she had known all along.

Henry Stein was the originator of Bendy, Boris, and Alice Angel—and Joey Drew had spent years calling them his own creations.

He must have written the letter around the same time he had spoken to Mr. Arch about his will, because the letter also stressed that Joey Drew would leave the next best course of action up to Nathan Arch as the executor of his estate.

Audrey slipped the letter back into the envelope and hugged it close. “Thank you for giving me this letter. You can’t imagine how much it means.”

“I hate to disagree with you, Audrey,” Joey replied, “but I think I have some idea of its value. Now, you’d better get back to your painting project.” He turned back to the desk. “Have fun with your friends. Those memories will be valuable things for you. Come back if you have any questions.”

Audrey turned to go, then paused and glanced back over her shoulder at Joey. She thought about it.

A moment later, she tapped him on the shoulder.

“Yes?” Joey looked up from his notes.

“I think… you should make some happy memories too,” Audrey said. She held out her bucket of paint and paintbrush to him.

***

Henry considered his options. Allison was painting things down in the study and secondary kitchen, where they had taken on Susie Campbell back when she was still a crazed version of Alice Angel. And according to Wandering, it seemed Audrey had gone to the laboratory to speak with Joey Drew, which was something that made him curious but got pushed behind the immediate problem in front of him.

Well, there was nothing for it. He would need to burst in there and—

“Goodness, there is quite a ruckus coming from over here.” Betty approached. “Henry, what is going on?” She glanced into the room, only to stiffen at the chaos that had erupted throughout the room.

“Betty?” Henry said uncertainly. There was something that worried him about in the way her face went as curiously blank as when she had worn a mask—not for her sake so much as for the sakes of Inky and Tom.

“Henry, please be a dear and get Allison,” Betty said, giving him a small smile. “Oh yes, and Wandering, kindly send Audrey this way as well, if you would.”

Wandering poked out their head. “Right away,” they said, more hurriedly than usual in Henry’s opinion, before retreating into the wall again.

Betty stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.

***

Audrey was halfway up the steps with Joey following after her when Wandering stuck their head out of the wall. It happened so suddenly she started to tumble backwards, but Joey caught before she could fall.

“Wandering, you surprised me!” Audrey exclaimed.

“We are sorry, Audrey,” Wandering said. “Betty asked for you to come to the piano room. Just Inky and Tom are fighting with paint.”

“Oh no,” Audrey said, picking up the pace after saying a quick thank you to Joey. “We’ve got to help Betty.”

“To help Betty?” Wandering sounded confused, but then they shrugged and disappeared.

***

Allison and Henry reached the door at the same time as Audrey and Joey. Oddly enough, though, everything was quiet.

Audrey blinked, perplexed by the stillness. She had expected to hear chaos and confusion in process just inside. Somehow the silence was even more intimidating. Then, after exchanging a look with the others, she twisted the knob and slowly opened the door.

The piano room was calm and peaceful.

However, Inky and Tom were carefully painting the piano white, with a golden leaf pattern along the sides, while Betty watched. They were working side-by-side, not meeting each other’s glance but cooperating. Both of them probably heard the door open, and the gasp of astonishment that Audrey gave, yet they kept working.

When Inky turned just enough to afford Audrey a good view of the bowtie mirror, she was almost certain she discerned Bendy standing in wide-eyed shock as well.

Betty turned a serene and friendly smile towards them. “Oh, hello, everyone. Inky and Tom made a bit of a mess in here, but they have generously agreed to clean it up and paint this room by themselves.”

Audrey murmured, “Okay…” In that moment, it struck her how formidable Betty was in her own right.

“Joey, you’ve joined us,” Betty said. “How wonderful. I’ll go and prepare us some tea, and then all of us can take a break.” She swept past them, and aside from Inky and Tom, everyone rushed to volunteer their assistance.

***

Things calmed down considerably after tea, of course. They took a break from painting objects in the manor and instead began to turn their attention to themselves. Down in the basement, with mirrors set up, everyone moved between the paints and tried out different colors.

“We can always change our colors later, if we need to,” Audrey reminded them. “If we want to try something else.” She tried to get a combination that most closely imitated her appearance back in The Real World, turning her hair brunette and giving herself a light-blue sweater.

Allison’s clothes wound up mostly in darker shades of blue, and she took great pride in giving her sword a blade that looked like pure steel. And Tom turned his coveralls and shoes a hazelnut shade, stressing he didn’t need to get too fancy.

Henry gave himself light brown hair with a few silverish streaks, a tan jacket, a white shirt, and dark brown pants.

Betty dyed her dress lavender, with varying shades of purple for the other parts. She turned her hair “as golden as fields of wheat,” in Henry’s words, and he proclaimed her beautiful.

Inky looked like he wanted to volunteer in painting Joey, but Audrey laid a hand on his shoulder and offered a distraction by helping him to turn his bowtie a deep red and his gloves white. And then, when he gave way to Bendy, the little guy decided to give himself a light green vest and black pants with silvery stripes. The bowtie remained the same red hue.

“Both of you look very distinguished,” Audrey praised them.

“Thank you, Audrey!” Bendy said, beaming at her. “You look good too.”

Joey had a white shirt with a gray vest and dark grey pants. And the hue of his hair matched Audrey’s, albeit he included silvery streaks in his as well.

Wandering copied Bendy’s color scheme.

“You don’t need to match Bendy’s clothes,” Henry told them. “You are free to make your own choices.”

“Our own choices…” Wandering considered the issue, looking thoughtful, and then slipped into the wall. A short while later, they emerged again. What caught everyone by surprise, however, was that Wandering had abandoned the clothes altogether. Now they looked like an old cartoon version of Bendy had just walked off one of the projector screens, complete with a white bowtie. The only exceptions were their eyes that had the tiny dots for pupils.

“What do you think?” they asked. “We might try other designs later.”

Standing there in a basement filled with colors, themselves with new color schemes, Audrey and the others proclaimed they looked wonderful.

And they all knew it was only the start of filling The Studio with life in a whole new way.

Chapter Text

Audrey watched as her boss read the letter from Joey Drew.

Nathan Arch leaned on one elbow, taking in each line with painstaking care, while the index finger of his free hand tapped out an irregular rhythm on his desk. Aside from a look of intense concentration, it was impossible to say exactly what might have been going through his mind.

The whole thing made Audrey dig her fingertips into the armrests of the chair facing him.

It had been the right thing to do, she knew—but it was still nerve-racking. Nathan Arch had believed in her father enough to give him financial support and fight any number of legal battles against Gent to secure various assets from what was left of the defunct Joey Drew Studios, including The Ink Machine, and had acted as the executor of his estate. Someone who would do all those things would likely have been ready to cut down any attempts to take anything away from him, such as the full credit for the main cartoon characters of the studio.

To keep herself from squirming too much, Audrey forced her gaze to travel again around the office, and then down to the framed photographs set upon the desk itself. It was still eerie just how much Wilson had based Betty on his mother, and the person shown as standing with Nathan Arch’s arm around her shoulders could have been her twin. Eerier still was the dimpled, young boy depicted in another framed photograph and wearing overalls. It wasn’t just that he had the toothy grin of a happy soul who had, she knew, slowly twisted into a monster; there was something almost familiar about his pose.

She got so distracted by the image as to jerk when her boss at last released a pent-up sigh and lowered the letter. His finger had stopped tapping the desk. Instead, now he was gazing down at it as if surprised to find such a thing attached to his hand. He looked so distracted and distant. Then he blinked several times as if to regain some focus.

“Well, there’s someone to whom I now owe a major apology, and it’ll be one of the most difficult ones I’ve ever given,” Nathan Arch said, with hints of a groan clearly ready to burst free. “Henry Stein once told me, at an odd moment years ago, that he had been the sole creator of the main cartoon stars at Joey Drew Studios, but I refused to believe him. He’d gone on to open Vista Pictures by then, and I figured it was him trying to get competitive by claiming Joey hadn't at least had a big hand in creating the characters. We wound up in a big shouting match about it, and afterwards it became something of a sore point between us.” He sighed. "I'll admit that I have made mistakes in my judgement sometimes, and even though I knew Joey wasn't perfect, he was still my friend. So, in the end, I basically wound up believing him over Henry. Or maybe I just wanted to believe him."

Audrey sat there, stunned. Her boss had accepted the contents of the letter wholeheartedly.

The surprise on her face must have been apparent, because Nathan Arch set aside the letter, stapled his fingers, and regarded her with great solemnity. “I know my old friend well enough to recognize his handwriting, and I’ve gone out of my way to learn how to detect forgeries,” he said. “That skill has kept me from getting swindled on a couple of occasions in my other businesses. So, yes, I do acknowledge Joey Drew must have written this confession.”

“You…” Audrey fumbled a bit. “Are you surprised?” The question popped out so suddenly and easily. She hadn’t realized it had been there, ready to spring.

Even then, though, her boss remained placid. “Tell me, Audrey, what would you think if I gave an interview for some major newspaper and claimed that not only was Archgate Films a studio I built from the ground up, but how hard I had been working on my latest cartoon feature?” He looked so much older, somehow. “As an animator at the studio, how would that make you feel?”

“Honestly, sir?” Audrey met him gaze for gaze, took a deep breath, and said, “I’d think less of you for it, because you wouldn’t have mentioned anyone else.”

Nathan smiled at her. “Don’t you think I couldn’t read between the lines of the interviews given by your father as well?” He chuckled softly. “Joey constantly named himself as the main creative force behind every creative project produced by Joey Drew Studios, many of them at the same time. Way too much work for a single person to do alone. I’m not blind, Audrey. Just going through the archives of comics alone, credits to other artists and writers are scarce. The unfortunate truth is there have been many occasions not only in the animation industry but in other fields altogether where talented individuals have gone unrecognized for their achievements due to various reasons. You could say it happens all the time, even now.”

“It still isn’t fair.”

“No, it isn’t, but it’s a harsh reality,” Nathan Arch sighed, “and Joey Drew marketed himself in much the same way as he did his cartoon stars. There was a kind of otherworldly charm build up around him, and I think you’d still come across people today who would be unable to separate his mystical persona from that of a businessman. Still, he needed it to ensure companies and others kept backing his projects and paying attention to Joey Drew Studios as a whole, even though it likely got tiring for him at times. In that way, he was a character in his own right, but I recognize he wasn’t infallible. He made mistakes too. We all make mistakes, and it isn’t always so easy to fix them when most of your life is in the rearview mirror.”

His gazed dropped towards the picture of Wilson as a child, and Audrey noticed the briefest shadow of sadness pass across his expression.

“Sir?”

“Sorry, my mind wandered there for a moment.” Nathan Arch shook his head and pressed on, “As for Henry Stein, meeting with him was, as fate would have it, one of the matters that brought Tessa and me out to the West Coast. We may have disagreed on other matters, but we’re both still in the animation business. Henry Stein had reached out to me, you see, for some tips about creating a park.”

Audrey’s thoughts went right to the unfinished plans for Bendy Land that her father had wanted to build, and despite herself, she trembled.

Meanwhile, her boss continued, “Nothing too big, mind you. He had thought about creating a small park close to his animation studio where his granddaughter could play in a playground with a few statues of his characters nearby, and maybe he'd even add in a merry-go-round. However, I told him, ‘Henry, you’re thinking too small. Why not go for a full-scale theme park and really give her a good time? Then your daughter and other families can enjoy having fun together.’ And then I offered to give him some financial backing. Henry was still dubious, so I encouraged him to bring the whole Stein clan out to visit Coney Island, since his daughter and granddaughter had never been there before. ‘Let’s see if you’re still on the fence after that,’ I told him.”

Nathan Arch laughed. The recollection seemed to have eased some of the tension in the office.

So, that was why Henry Stein had been at Coney Island with his family. Audrey recalled what Bendy had told her about the encounter, and the glimpse she had gotten of a much older version of the Henry she knew, having fun with his wife, daughter, and granddaughter. It looked like they had been really enjoying themselves.

After such a fantastic trip to an amusement park, Nathan Arch might have just convinced the Real-World Henry Stein to create an amusement park in California. And unlike with Bendy Land, Nathan Arch would have the interests of the visitors in mind while lending Henry a helpful hand.

“Imagine that…” Audrey murmured, and then realized she had said it aloud. She blushed slightly, but Nathan Arch simply looked amused at her expense.

“You know, Audrey, I’ve been thinking it might do you some good to get introduced to Mr. Henry Stein yourself. It’d be an education to meet the head of an animation studio who has had so many years of experience animating things as well—which is a feat I sadly can’t claim,” Nathan Arch shrugged. “And considering you’re Joey Drew’s daughter, perhaps it would be good to have you there when I apologize and do my best to make amends for his lack of recognition.”

“Really?”

“I’d probably have thought of it a while back, except I’ve got to admit that Henry Stein is such a master at his craft, I’d have worried about him luring you away to Vista Pictures.” Nathan Arch made the remark like a highlighted joke, yet Audrey could sense the faintest tremor of genuine concern in it. Maybe it was because she had gotten so good at listening and watching for it with Inky, Bendy, and her other friends.

She smiled and shook her head. “Please don’t worry, Mr. Arch. I love Archgate Films and living in New York City too much. You’re stuck with me, I guess.”

Nathan Arch burst out laughing. “That’s what I like to hear, Audrey! That’s what I like to hear. Anyway, there’s going to be a bit of a shindig in about a week—a fancy party I want to throw for everyone at Archgate Films. It’ll celebrate our planned expedition into creating our first full-length movie for Bendy and his friends, although now I plan to invite Henry Stein and his family as well.”

“That’s… incredible, Mr. Arch. Thank you,” was all Audrey could think of to say.

“You’re the first to know about the party, and make sure you pass around the news to everyone.” Nathan could have competed with Bendy or Inky with the grin on his face. “It’ll be fancy dress, and I’ve already reserved us a room at a place along Broadway. It’ll be the first of what I’m sure will be several bashes for Archgate Films.”

It was only after Audrey had slipped back out into the hallway and closed the door to her boss’s office that she realized just how swiftly Nathan Arch had managed to shift the atmosphere and topics. She had gone into his office filled with trepidation at her father taking full credit for Bendy, Boris the Wolf, and Alice Angel for so many years, but now she was leaving it excited about a party her boss would host for everyone.

Nathan Arch had proved once again, she supposed, his mastery as not only a businessman but as a boss.

Chapter Text

Paint buckets and brushes appeared throughout Lost City and Ink Harmony Park like fresh blooms. Wandering reported they could feel Lost Ones grabbing the supplies and bustling about in great excitement, and their enthusiasm was making them feel warm and pleasantly tired.

Several oatmeal cookies dipped in milk pushed them right to the edge of slumberland. They swallowed the final morsel in their gloved hand before toppling sideways against Henry, who had been sitting beside them on the couch in the parlor. “We are ready to sleep and gather our strength,” Wandering murmured, eyelids drooping. “Please bring us to the wall. We want to wrap ourselves in a colorized blanket and enjoy happy Sillyvision dreams for a while.”

Henry obliged. He cradled the impish form in his arms, carried them to the wall, and carefully slipped them through the wood. “Sleep well,” he said as they disappeared, and then chuckled to himself.

“What is it, Henry?” Betty asked, gathering the teacups, coffee mugs, and emptied plates onto her tea tray.

“Ah, I suppose I was just thinking how wonderful life is,” Henry replied, then shook his head. “Never in a million Cycles would I have imagined saying something like that.”

Betty stifled a chortle with one hand. “Well, this Cycle is much different than the previous ones.”

“Exactly. The last Cycle was the worst one any of us ever endured,” Henry recalled, and a shadow of those dark days clouded his expression for a moment—at least until Betty came over to loop an arm around his own. Then a small smile dispersed the gloom.

“And I think we could all agree this Cycle is the best one ever,” Betty said, “because we are all here together, thanks to Audrey. Oh yes,” she brightened further, “not to mention it is also the last Cycle ever.”

“The last Cycle,” Joey Drew murmured from where he sat hunched on the couch opposite. Elbows resting on his knees, he laid his chin upon interlaced fingers and considered the dregs of his mug with an absent gaze.

Joey had declined to join them at breakfast, even though Audrey had made a special effort to invite him. According to her, he had claimed to be deep in decoding an especially thick passage, although Henry suspected it was more likely Joey would have choked on his meal with Inky leering at him from across the dining room table.

Audrey had headed off to work soon afterwards. She had been in a hurry and seemed more anxious than usual, yet she insisted that everything was just fine when Henry asked about it. In fact, she had given him an odd little smile and mentioned something about maybe having a surprise for him later.

Henry had decided right then to carefully tuck away that information for a bit later, to address when she came back in the evening.

Allison and Tom, meanwhile, had announced their plans to check on how the Lost Ones were doing with all the paint made available to them—and Bendy and Inky had volunteered in unison to join them. That Bendy would be enthusiastic to join the fun was a matter for little comment, but Inky clearly intended mischief well away from any possible rebuke by Betty, who he had taken greater care to be on his best behavior around since his paint fight with Tom.

However, Allison had promised to keep a close eye on them, which might have also included Tom from the way the wolf and Inky exchanged growls. So, Henry had tried to avoid getting too anxious about the three of them going off together into a place that was a paint battle just waiting to happen.

Once Allison, Tom, Bendy, and Inky had left by the subway, Joey Drew had crept up from the laboratory to grab a mug of coffee. Given the gesture Audrey had made towards him with the breakfast invitation, and the fact that Joey seemed especially apologetic, Henry had engaged him a few games of checkers and found him a decent enough opponent.

It was still hard to figure out how to deal with him, though.

Their conversation had been sparse and focused on commenting about things like the new look of the manor. In other words, safe subjects. But there was obviously something on Joey’s mind now, and Henry realized he was the one who needed to address him, especially since Betty soon departed with her tea tray occupied by dishware to bring back to the kitchen.

Henry rubbed the back of his neck and sat on the couch facing Joey. “All right, what’s going on now?”

“Pardon?” Joey blinked, as if to refocus on him. “Apologies, Henry. I didn’t quite catch that.”

“There’s something bothering you,” Henry began again, “and I wanted to know what.”

Joey Drew gave him an inscrutable look. “You always were one for asking questions, weren’t you, Henry?” he asked. “Trying to figure out what was under the surface. I admire that about you.”

“Come on, Joey.”

“Very well. I was musing on this being the last Cycle, and how it has all the right hallmarks.” Joey gazed around at the colorized room, and then at his own clothes as if in awe at their hues and textures. “Things are getting put in order. Audrey has taken her place as the main protector of this world, and life has become much easier for the folks here.” His chuckle was gentle, almost wistful. “I’ve been watching it happen and passing information along. It is almost perfect…”

He trailed off again, overcome by whatever thoughts consumed him.

“So, it’s just that you’re feeling at peace as well?” Henry asked, and then because this was Joey, another question slipped out, “Or does that bother you?”

But Joey took the remark in stride. “No, no. I am very relieved, you could say. Waiting for this Cycle has been wearying, and I sincerely hope it is the last one The Ink World will know. However, there are a few loose ends still to tie up.”

“Such as?”

Joey met his glance. “The End,” he said, and the words conjured endless loops of running about The Studio depths, with a version of The Ink Demon metamorphosized to carry himself around on massive, curled fists, who had chased Henry right into a projector room with a throne at its center—where he had taken what seemed a simple film reel and become what Wilson and his Keepers deemed a “Cyclebreaker.”

“Henry, you don’t have that reel in your possession.”

***

Bendy sat on his seat in the subway train, twiddling his thumbs and swinging his legs. The train hadn’t been painted yet, and all four of them appeared to glow amid their settings. It would have been a calm ride to Lost City—except Inky had soon realized that he was in a confined space alongside Tom, away from any immediate retribution by Audrey or Betty.

Inky could have assumed his full form, and possibly risked a physical struggle with both Tom and Allison, so he had opted to mess around through his reflection instead. He reached out and appeared to tweak one of the cartoon wolf’s ears, which made Tom growl and start to rise.

“Tom, don’t.” Allison gently tugged him down by the arm. “We talked about this issue. You’re only encouraging him.”

“But that grinning gremlin is taking advantage of me,” Tom muttered in a low voice to Allison.

Allison sighed. “Inky knows you will respond to his antics. Just ignore him, and he’ll stop.”

Bendy was right beside Allison, however, and heard her clearly—which meant Inky did as well. Those words had been a big mistake. Now Inky would double his efforts to spark a reaction, and he proceeded to do so right away by sticking a clawed finger into one of Tom’s flared nostrils.

Still growling low in his throat, Tom balled his hands into fists and did his best to stare straight ahead while Inky imitated chomping on his ear, sniggering into his face, and reaching long claws around his head.

Someone was about to stop ignoring Inky in a big way, and Bendy suspected it could have been either Tom or Allison.

He twiddled his thumbs faster. There had to be something he could do to break up this tense atmosphere. “Allison, can I ask you a question?”

Allison jerked. He’d surprised her. Until this point, they hadn’t carried on much of a conversation, just between the two of them. If she said anything in his direction, it had usually been aimed at Inky in response to some mischief or a snarky comment.

Maybe she realized it as well, and noted his awkwardness, because her shock shifted right away into something much gentler. “Sure, go ahead,” Allison said.

Bendy perked up a little. “Henry created me, right?” He offered a winning grin, yet all Allison did was frown a bit in confusion, as if wondering why he would choose now of all times to ask such a thing.

“Well, I… Henry Stein, the one outside The Studio, created the idea for you,” Allison replied at last. “That’s what we learned from Henry in the library that one night.” She didn’t specify, but Bendy remembered which night she meant, right after they had reclaimed the manor.

“Does that make him my father?”

There came a sudden crash. Inky had been leaning further and further over Tom with his mouth open, as if to engulf him, when the question—combined with the natural jerkiness of the train—sent him tumbling headlong onto the floor.

Tom started up in surprise, but then outright amusement blossomed on his face.

“Not one word, wolf,” Inky snarled up at him.

Tom didn’t say a thing. He simply sat down, lifted a foot, placed it down as if atop Inky’s back, and lifted a fist towards the ceiling in triumph.

Then an explosion did come. Inky shot past Allison and tackled Tom, and the pair of them wound up half wedged between the seats, pressed back-to-back and glaring at each other.

As a reflection now, Bendy remained on his seat, twiddling his thumbs, and wondering if the conversation was over before it had even started. But Allison stayed there next to him. She leaned back.

“What brought all this on?” Allison asked.

Bendy squirmed a bit. “Well, Audrey has talked a lot about her father. Even though he did a bunch of terrible things.”

Inky snorted at this understatement.

“But having a father still means a lot to her, and then there is Andrew who really misses his father too, and I kind of thought of, well…” He trailed off, realizing he probably wasn’t making much sense. So, Bendy decided to skip ahead to the main thing. “I’d like to know if I have a father too.”

“Neither of us has a father,” Inky grumbled. “We came out of The Ink Machine.”

“Audrey came out of The Ink Machine, and Joey Drew is her father,” Bendy said.

“We’re different. Besides, if a father is the same thing as a creator, I refuse to accept any connections to one,” Inky huffed. “Joey Drew was a liar, and we don’t know anything about the other Henry Stein, except that he moved on without us.”

Bendy tapped his forefingers together sadly. “Oh…” Now he regretted bringing up the subject at all. He drew up his legs and hugged them for extra comfort. It would have helped if he had brought along his Fluffy the Bunny toy to hug, or if Audrey were here to hug him.

Then an arm went around and drew him close, like an angelic wing. “Who says they are the same thing?” Allison snapped defiantly.

“What?” Inky shoved against Tom, struggling to get into at least a less comprising position. He grimaced at her. “You don’t have the slightest clue about it. You have always been here in The Studio, and you haven’t needed to deal with—”

“Joey Drew was the one who placed me in The Studio as well!” Allison cut Inky off, and the audacity of her doing so silenced him. “I could say he created me because of that, but I would never call him my father.” She turned to Bendy. “Listen to me, Bendy. I’m probably not the best person to comment on the subject, but I am sure that I understand the basic concept. Fathers are family members, and family members are the ones who care about you and want to support you. You understand that, right?”

“Audrey, Inky, and I are family,” Bendy said, then added, “and everyone at the manor too.”

“There you go, then. We’re one big happy family,” Allison agreed.

Inky and Tom just glared at each other.

“But… does that mean I can choose who my father is too?” Bendy asked.

Tom grunted as he got up. He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t see why you can’t. You have an idea of what to look for in one, anyway.”

“Don’t give him ideas,” Inky growled.

However, it did give Bendy ideas, and those ideas brought a wide grin to his face.

Inky groaned in exasperation.

***

Joey had shot off his question about The End Reel almost like a gentle accusation. The frustrating thing was that he had a point.

So much had happened. All of them had overcome such a great deal, his concern for The End reel had gotten swept away on a tidal wave of ink. It might as well have simply dissolved into the ether alongside all the other nightmarish relics from past Cycles, even though Henry had tried to remind himself to remain vigilant for dangers or threats able to jeopardize their newfound prosperity and happiness.

Henry sighed. “The Keepers used to keep the End Reel up in The Pit of the Old Gent Workshop,” he said, “and none of us has gone over there since the Cycle reset.”

“You’re thinking in the wrong direction, Henry,” Joey said, shaking his head. “The Cycle reset. Whatever existed here before Wilson and The Keepers invaded The Studio went back to its original location, which includes The End Reel.”

Henry blinked, rewinding his own memories back past the previous Cycle and to all the ones that came before—and realized the answer should have been apparent from the moment he thought about it.

“The Film Vault,” he said. “Inky hasn’t grabbed the reel, so it must still be there in a box.”

Joey nodded slowly.

“We’ll need to go and secure it,” Henry continued.

“You got it, Henry,” Joey confirmed. “Even without me, you would have made the connection soon enough.”

Henry gave him an even look. “But you did help me to make that connection. Otherwise, I might have headed into the Old Gent Workshop, and I don’t welcome stepping foot in there again if I can help it. So… thanks.”

“It’s the least I can do to make amends,” Joey said. “That’s my role in this whole thing, after all.”

“Joey, it’s a new Cycle. You’re not really Joey Drew. At least, not that Joey Drew.” Henry managed a smile. “You get to choose who you want to be.”

“You’ve come a long way, old friend, to talk about choices,” Joey said with a sad smile. “But I made my own decision a long time ago, and I am conscious of it. With Audrey here, once I finish decoding the documents, I have no reason to—”

“Let’s visit The Film Vault together, Joey.”

This declaration took Joey aback. His brows shot right up. “Henry, I don’t have any reason to go there. I don’t have any place in this Cycle other than as a source of information, to help Audrey, and to make—”

“To make amends for Joey Drew, I know,” Henry said. “You’ve said that already. However,” he sat on the couch opposite and set up the checkerboard, “if you lose to me at checkers, you’ll be obligated to come.”

Joey hesitated. “Henry, I know what you’re trying to do, but my path is already set.”

“Then you won’t mind a detour, if I win,” Henry finished sliding the pieces into their starting positions. “Best out of five is the winner.”

***

A few hours later, Henry jumped Joey’s final piece. “We leave for The Film Vault tomorrow. Make sure you’re ready. Maybe we can even find and bring back other reels for the theater’s grand opening in a few days.”

Joey stared at the checkerboard, looking like a haunted man. “Henry, there is important decoding work for me to do in the laboratory,” he protested. “I am not supposed to be a major part of this Cycle beyond tying things up.”

“Finding the reel is tying things up. Stop trying to get out of it,” Henry said.

Joey opened his mouth, clearly ready to argue further, when they suddenly heard Betty exclaim from down the hall in the foyer, “Goodness, all of you must have decided to join in on helping the Lost Ones to paint their homes.”

“We had a painting competition!” Bendy sang out in glee. “At least, Tom and Inky did, and they almost did an entire city block between them.”

“What a commendable act of community service,” Betty praised.

“We didn’t do community service,” Inky huffed. “I throttled Tom by painting more than he did, and now Lost City bears the evidence of my victory.”

“You’re delusional,” Tom replied with a grunt. The voices of their conversation came up the hall, drawing closer to the parlor. “You didn’t win. I did. You just flung paint around the city—and drenched several Lost Ones.”

“They were happy about it, and they are a part of Lost City. You are just a sore loser,” Inky went on.

“The two of you did exactly the same amount of work,” Allison said. “I checked, and it was a tie.”

They were almost to the parlor now.

Henry listened to the commotion, and he turned to look at Joey, who was still seated on the couch and had sunk back into his own thoughts. Joey appeared resigned to his fate, although whether it was accompanying Henry to The Film Vault, or something else entirely, was what he would need to figure out.

To spare Joey a bit of chaos, however, Henry slipped out of the parlor to meet everyone else in the hallway. Allison, Tom, Bendy—and from what he could see from the bowtie mirror—Inky were covered in splotches of multicolored paint. He didn’t need to draw direct attention to that fact. The sight of them, and what he had overheard, told the whole story.

“I take it the colorization process is going well in Lost City and Ink Harmony Park,” Henry said with a chuckle.

Allison shook her head gently. “To be honest, we never made it over to Ink Harmony Park, although from what I could tell, the efforts there are moving along smoothly.”

“You should have seen the painting competition, Henry,” Bendy said. “You would have been proud.”

It was an interesting way to put the whole thing, but Henry replied, “I’m proud of all the efforts being made to add color to The Studio. We’ve come a long way.”

“Could you give me another art lesson before Audrey gets here?” Bendy’s grin widened. He was staring at Henry with more enthusiasm than usual.

Well, who was Henry to curb a healthy love for art? He said, “All right. Clean yourself up, and we’ll have that art lesson.”

Bendy saluted him. “Right away, fa—”

“Let’s go and get ourselves repainted already!” Inky cut him off with a snarl.

Looking somewhat embarrassed, Bendy whirled around. “Be right back!” He hurried off towards the basement, where there would of course be more buckets waiting for him.

Henry watched him go. “Fa?” he murmured.

Tom grunted. “Allison and I had better get cleaned up too.” He nodded to Henry, before leading Allison towards their shared room.

Betty came to stand beside Henry. “It has been another productive day in The Studio, hasn’t it?”

Henry thought of Joey sitting in the parlor, and of their plans for the next day. “Yes, I think it has been.”

Chapter Text

Excitement buzzed throughout Archgate Films as the workday concluded. The whole animation department had extra springs in their steps, thanks to Audrey spreading the word about the party they would celebrate somewhere along Broadway. Or, to give credit where it was due, Audrey had told Marge and Andrew, and then Marge had declared the news in astonishment to the general vicinity while pencils tumbled from her frizzy hair bun. Since then, jollity had filled the atmosphere and spurred on the latest animation project.

Thankfully, the possible appearance of Henry Stein at the party remained between Audrey, Marge, and Andrew.

“I’m pretty sure he will come if Mr. Arch invites him and his family,” Audrey said, “but if there is any chance of him not showing up for one reason or another, I’d prefer to wait until we’re sure of it to announce anything.”

“That’s understandable,”’ Andrew agreed. “I mean, having Henry Stein come to a party for Archgate Films would be a huge surprise.” Neither he nor Marge had been surprised, though, to hear the origins of Bendy, Alice Angel, and Boris the Wolf, which made sense given what Audrey had told them about The Ink Machine and Joey Drew Studios.

Marge retrieved a few of the pencils and stuck them back into her hair bun. “We’ll just have to suffer in quiet excitement until the party,” she said, putting on a brave face that soon gave way to lighthearted laughter.

Buoyed by all the merriment, Audrey grew giddy with anticipation. Marge may have spread the news about the party at Archgate Films, but Audrey looked forward to doing so in The Ink World. She could already imagine the delighted expression on Henry’s face when he learned his Real-World counterpart would get recognized for his creative contributions. Everyone at the manor might even throw a party of their own. It was the kind of thing they would do.

What Audrey hadn’t expected was to hear an argument as she got off the elevator into the Exhibition Room.

“You cannot make everything bend to your whimsical imagination,” Inky snapped. “Reality is much harsher than that.”

“Allison said I could make the decision, and I did,” Bendy retorted. “And I know about reality. I looked the definition up in the dictionary the last time we went to the library, and it just means what is real.”

“You do not have a clue what is real.”

“Yes, I do! I’m not that ignorant, which I’ll have you know I looked up in the dictionary too.”

“Oh yes, and I suppose now you are an expert, you silly toon!”

“Don’t call me names!” Bendy paused. “Even though I am a toon. I think.”

“You don’t even know that much, do you? Face it, you only resemble a cartoon character because you were made to look like one on purpose. That does not make you the same thing. At least Gent did a better job on you than they did on me.”

“It’s not true!”

Audrey had listened to the heated exchange in growing bewilderment, but when it suddenly escalated to this level of intensity, she hurried along the short corridor, turned a corner, and came into the main part of the exhibition room—where Bendy stood facing one of the glass cases, gloved hands balled into fists, while the reflection of Inky glowered down at him. They were in a standoff, and she couldn’t fathom what might have happened. The two of them had been getting along so well, aside from their usual short-lived squabbles.

This confrontation felt different. Words had been said which stung more and were much harder to forget and forgive.

Audrey also couldn’t help but remember her conversation with Inky the evening before their most recent trip into The Ink Machine. Alongside everything else, it was disarming to find them here rather than waiting for her in The Ink World.

“Bendy? Inky?” Audrey called.

Both sides turned, and she glimpsed the pain and fury on each face. It was hard to tell which one was the most concerning.

“Great, now you have dragged Audrey into the whole thing,” Inky growled. “Fantastic.”

Lower lip trembling, Bendy was clearly doing his best to keep from crying.

“Hey, who wants to get a Super Grande Sundae?” Audrey suggested.

***

Audrey had asked Marge and Andrew to go on ahead, since it was obvious whatever current conflict was in progress needed immediate attention, and she had a feeling Bendy and Inky would feel more comfortable discussing it between just the three of them. Even so, Marge and Andrew both hinted they planned to visit a thrift shop further up the block for about, say, half an hour to 45 minutes—and if Audrey, Inky, and Bendy happened to walk past there afterwards on the way home, they might pop out to accompany them.

Marge had quietly added, “Hope whatever is going on clears up with some ice cream. It’s no fun to see Bendy and Inky upset at each other.”

“I hope so too,” Audrey had replied, and upon reaching Phil’s Ice Cream Parlor and getting their order, they had retreated to a booth in the far corner of the place. In general, the place was relatively vacant that evening, albeit there were a few individuals and couples as well.

Audrey sat on one side of the booth, facing Bendy and Inky on the other. Two Super Grande Sundaes sat on the table between them, which for once were in danger of melting before they had been gobbled up.

She sighed. “You know we can talk about anything together, right?”

“Yes,” Bendy murmured sadly, while Inky grunted.

“Then why were you two arguing?” Audrey asked. “Come on, we’re a family, and families help each other.”

Bendy flinched, and Inky was a little too still.

“What hap—”

“Inky says we don’t have a father even though Henry came up with the idea for us and Allison said we could choose our father,” Bendy burst out. “He says we came out of The Ink Machine, and our creators were awful people who don’t deserve any acknowledgement from us whatsoever—and that I’m not really a cartoon character. And he also made us leave through The Ink Machine before Henry could give me another art lesson.”

Audrey glanced down at the bowtie mirror. “Ink—”

“Maybe you should remind Bendy, since he refuses to listen to me, how Joey Drew got Gent to build The Ink Machine, which led to our creation in the first place, and how the Henry Stein who came up with the idea for ‘Bendy the Dancing Demon’ left years ago and has likely forgotten about all the cartoon characters he made for Joey Drew Studios. He has his own creations now who would mean more to him than we…. than they ever did.”

Audrey bit her lower lip as the situation clicked into better focus. “Actually, on that note—”

“Tell Inky,” Bendy said, “that I know we came from The Ink Machine, and how the Henry we saw at Coney Island has moved on. Tell him I just wanted to have a father like you do, Audrey, and I think Henry from our other world would be the best father ever.”

“Well, about Henry—” Audrey tried again.

“Tell Bendy it does not matter to me anymore,” Inky grumbled. “He could declare that he wanted one of the stuffed Boris dolls from the Heavenly Toys workshop as his brother, and it would be his own ridiculous choice. I don’t care.”

“I already have a brother!” Bendy snapped. “A big brother who is being a big jerk.”

This announcement had the effect of draining away some of the tension in the situation. Audrey could practically feel it lessen, as Inky stopped growling in fury and drew back in surprise. It had been a piercing comeback, and Bendy seemed to understand that fact very well. He even reached out and took a bite of his sundae, as if trying to put an end to the argument right then and there.

Eventually, “Fine, it might be amusing to see the look on Henry’s face when you claim him as your father,” Inky grumbled, gentler than before, and then snorted. “But you will still never get me to accept him or anyone else as my father.”

Audrey sighed in relief. Incredibly, Bendy and Inky had worked through the dispute on their own and had reached a compromise. The incredulousness at this feat must have been clear on her face.

“Your sundae is dripping all over the place, Audrey,” Inky rasped, as if in attempting to switch topics, and Bendy added, “How was your day, Audrey?” as if to help in the effort.

Well, at least they were working together again.

Audrey hesitated. What Bendy and Inky had been talking about had touched on the Real-World Henry Stein, and she hoped what she said next wouldn’t disturb that peace. “Well, my boss is going to throw a huge party for everyone at Archgate Films next week.”

Bendy dropped his spoon. “You’re going to have a party?” His pie-cut eyes sparkled, and he hopped up on his seat.

“It’ll be somewhere along Broadway, to celebrate our studio starting on a full-length animated movie,” Audrey explained.

“I can’t wait for us to go,” Bendy squeaked in happiness.

Inky grumbled, “We are not going.”

Some of the happiness wilted. “Why not?”

“Didn’t you hear Audrey? It is for the workers at Archgate Films.”

Audrey looked between them. The mood had dampened again, but thankfully, she could at least offer a solution. “Not necessarily. I got the impression everyone could invite family members to the event too, and I’m sure Mr. Arch wouldn’t mind you coming. But you would have to be careful with your disguise the whole time and stay on your best behavior.”

“I will, Audrey,” Bendy promised.

Inky shrugged. “Maybe I won’t pretend to stalk everyone’s reflection. It is not like I can do anything else.”

“I appreciate it, especially since a special guest might join us.” Then Audrey took a deep breath and proceeded to explain about the letter she had gotten from Joey Drew, the conversation she had had with Mr. Arch, and that Henry Stein and his family might make an appearance at the party as well.

During the explanation, Bendy had sat back down and listened in amazement.

Inky’s reaction was a little harder to gauge. He remained silent and still the whole time as if to catch all the details, and then when Audrey finished, the only thing he remarked was, “You will speak with him about our crea… the cartoon characters he created for Joey Drew Studios.”

“Yes,” Audrey said.

“Does that mean we’ll get to talk to him too?” Bendy asked. “I have a voice now, so we could have an actual conversation and thank him for creating us.”

Audrey half expected Inky to make a comment or complain, especially after their earlier argument, yet he stayed quiet. It worried her a little bit. “Bendy, I don’t think it would be a good idea for him to know who you are when we meet him there,” she said. “He would be very surprised and have a lot of questions, just like the Henry we know would have had in the same situation.”

Bendy opened his mouth, but it was Inky who spoke first, “The Henry out here might be in danger if he knew all the details.”

“Possibly,” Audrey said.

“Well, then we’ll just have to talk to him without mentioning it,” Bendy persisted. “It’ll be exciting to see what he’s like. Right, Inky?”

Inky didn’t answer. He appeared lost in his own thoughts. After they had finished their sundaes and were on the way out, though, she was sure that she heard him murmur, “Would he understand? Does he still care? Maybe…” and then he chastised himself. “Foolishness.”

As they strolled along the sidewalk, Audrey realized with a start that a vehicle was following them. It was moving slowly amid the growing darkness to remain inconspicuous, but its shape and the way it lumbered along was suspicious—and frighteningly familiar. Squeezing Bendy’s hand, Audrey picked up the pace, and it was with great relief that Marge and Andrew popped out of a thrift shop to join them.

Then the vehicle, a truck, sped up and zipped away along the street.

As it passed by, Audrey expected to catch a glimpse of the stern and intimidating form of Thomas Connor, except he wasn’t behind the wheel. Instead, there was the figure covered in a full-body suit like the assistant Mr. Connor had had at Coney Island, and a chill jolted down her spine that was somehow chillier than if she had seen the old Gent mechanic instead.

All of them kept a closer watch on their immediate environment the rest of the way to the apartment complex.

***

That evening, after dinner and while Bendy and Inky took a bath, Audrey went to their shared bedroom and opened the sketchbook. Henry had sent her a note to ask if Bendy and Inky were all right, since they had left when he had been set to give Bendy another art lesson. Deciding to let Bendy have the honors of surprising Henry with his claimed father status, Audrey only mentioned that Bendy and Inky had gotten into an argument related to their creation.

“Inky still gets self-conscious about his appearance sometimes and compares himself to Bendy,” Audrey wrote. “He won’t admit it directly, but I can tell it does bother him. And Bendy is asking more questions about his origins as well to understand his place in the world.” From the bathroom, she heard Inky start to hum, and Bendy whistled as he followed along with the tune which was, coincidentally, the theme song for the Bendy cartoons.

The two of them had seemed especially keen to prove they had gotten past their earlier argument, perhaps because they had seen how much they had worried Audrey—although the truck whooshing past had probably rattled her the most. As a result, they had wound up agreeing on most things from the moment they had gotten home, which was almost just as jarring. They had shown off their ability to work together, such as when discussing different parts of the painting contest between Inky and Tom, and when they had insisted on making sugar cookies, where Inky kept reminding Bendy of the measurements Betty had used to make them extra sweet.

And then there had been their further discussion of what to expect at a formal party, where Bendy and Inky both listened in equal interest as Audrey detailed things like the tables with fine tablecloths, wineglasses, as well as a high-rise view of New York. Nathan Arch, she knew, liked to do things in style.

It should have been a pleasant time after all the chaos, except she couldn’t help the thought that they were getting along a little too well, suddenly.

“You still worry about us merging, don’t you?” Inky had said, and while waiting for Henry’s response, Audrey rubbed the top of her hand that, whenever they went to The Ink World, would have the whorl of golden ink on it. From what she could tell, it was still slowly refilling like a well. But how long would her wish to keep Bendy and Inky’s minds apart keep them safe?

Audrey shook her head, trying to get rid of the thought.

Words slid across the page. “Questioning their identities is natural, Audrey,” Henry wrote. “But it isn’t something limited only to them. All of us have needed to figure out where our place in the world, to learn more about our origins, and to decide who we want to be now. Just give them time.”

Well, he had a point there.

“Thank you, Henry,” Audrey replied, and a small smile tweaked her lips. Bendy had certainly made a good decision on who he wanted as his father figure. With this thought in mind, she went onto relate the letter from Joey Drew, her conversation with Nathan Arch, and the news about the party—which Henry received with the amount of pleasure she had hoping for since the workday had ended.

“The Joey Drew from The Studio gave you that letter for Nathan Arch?” Henry wrote for clarification.

“Yes, he had it ready to hand off to me,” Audrey said. “He said my father in The Real World had written it for him to deliver.”

“That’s surprisingly admirable.”

“My boss was sure it wasn’t forged.”

“Still, I can’t help but wonder if… but I guess I’ll have time to ask Joey about it during our trip tomorrow.”

“What trip?” Audrey asked.

Henry wrote back, “A trip down to The Film Vault to secure The End Reel.”

The End Reel. Audrey gasped at the memory of the reel, inserted into the projection machine that had been Norman’s head in the last Cycle, and resetting The Cycle. So, this whole time as they had been trying to improve The Ink World, that powerful reel had been waiting in a film vault somewhere deep in The Studio. How could she have forgotten about it?

“I’ve never been there,” she said.

“I have on many, many occasions,” Henry replied. “This time, though, I hope to find what I’m looking for in the right place. Wish us luck.”

“Good luck.”

“And try not to stress out too much about Bendy and Inky,” Henry advised. “Just keep encouraging them as you have been. I can tell it has made a huge difference for them.”

“Thank you, Henry.”

“Goodnight, Audrey.”

“Goodnight, Henry.”

She closed the sketch book just as Bendy came into the bedroom wearing his bunny ears and his pajamas with bunny designs on them.

“At least take off the bunny ears,” Inky rasped. “You look ridiculous.”

“I like the bunny ears,” Bendy asserted, grabbing his stuffed rabbit toy and hugging it tightly. “They’re staying on.”

“Monster pajamas would be better.”

“Bunnies are better.”

“Monsters.”

“Bunnies!”

Listening to them bicker, Audrey heaved a huge sigh of relief. They were back to their usual, unique selves, and it eased her spirit considerably. And even though the truck still worried her, she was sure everything would work out somehow.

They were together, after all.

As another evening came to an end.

Chapter Text

When Henry slipped into the laboratory that morning, he found Joey Drew already hard at work decoding documents. Implanted memories of the interactions between their Real-World counterparts had left him with the impression of Joey Drew being the kind of person more likely to assign a heavy workload rather than take on anything too strenuous himself. Meanwhile, his interactions so far with Joey Drew in The Studio had painted a much different picture, and Henry kept wondering how much this version of Joey Drew really had in common with the one who was long gone.

Then again, comparing the two versions of Joey Drew too much was probably unfair.

His written conversation with Audrey the previous evening had emphasized how much the identities pressed onto them years ago still affected them now, despite all they knew about The Ink Machine, the nature of the world Joey Drew had created, and the fine lines between appearances and individual identities.

Everyone was still trying to make complete peace with their origins and to choose who they wanted to be now, and the process presented different challenges for each one of them—including for Joey Drew.

As if to emphasize the point, Joey Drew turned on his swivel chair, holding a thick bundle of papers. “Henry, you should see the latest documents I found about construction projects planned to extend the railway system deeper into The Studio,” he said. “Even with all the snooping I did, I never had an idea how much thought they put into their transportation services.”

His work desk now had a well-organized series of bins, containing such categories as “Iridescent Ink Project Notes,” “Gent construction projects,” and “Ink Fountain Research.” There were also boxes with folders containing more documents to decode, alongside a cleared space occupied by several pens and a notebook opened to a clean page.

“There were plans to bring the railway into the very depths,” Joey Drew continued, “where what is probably the largest duplicate of The Ink Machine rests.”

Memory stirred, and for a moment Henry visualized that enormous spout hanging over a room inundated with ink, through which he had had to wade while Allison and Tom stood on the bank behind him. They had feared being lost to The Ink, but thanks to his role in the Cycle, Henry had been able to push through to the other side—a subtle way to isolate him from his companions before facing Inky at The End.

That thought brought him back to the present moment. “Fascinating, Joey. Maybe you can tell me more as we make our way down to the Film Vault.”

“Is it that time already?” Joey darted a glance at the clock hanging on the wall—a normal, circular clock which indicated the morning hour. He swallowed. “Well, you see, Henry, the thing is I have stumbled across so many documents which might hold vital information. I should decode them as soon as possible.”

Henry frowned. “You can decode them after we get back from the Film Vault.”

“I am hardly equipped for an expedition to—”

“Here.” Henry pulled out a spare wrench and plunked it into Joey’s hand. “Believe me, I have gone through countless Cycles where a wrench was my only weapon of choice right until The End.” He emphasized the last words and saw resignation flicker across the face opposite, mixed with shame. Even though it wasn’t his shame to bear, exactly.

Joey carefully slid the papers he was holding into a bin labelled, “Next.”

He sighed, reached under the desk, and retrieved a lantern. “Very well, Henry, you did win at checkers. Lead the way.”

***

Audrey was getting ready for work, quickly combing her hair in their shared room. Bendy and Inky, meanwhile, were at the kitchen table. Books already occupied a good portion of its surface. Frankenstein lay opened before the mirror, and Inky was once again deeply engrossed in the text.

Fluffy the Bunny Has a Picnic was opened in front of Bendy, beside a stack of other titles already set for a day of reading enjoyment, but for once the cheerful antics of Fluffy the Bunny and all his friends seemed to swim before his pie-cut eyes. Instead, his glance kept drifting up towards Inky, who had been quieter this morning than usual.

Inky was probably still thinking about their argument the other day. Bendy was thinking about it too… and how much truth there had been in Audrey’s observation of Inky being jealous—at least when it came to appearances and his ability to move around in The Real World. Bendy could also remember their one evening discussion, where Inky had emphasized how much he didn’t want Bendy to understand everything he had been through. And Inky still felt self-conscious even though Bendy and Audrey had stressed he was a powerful guardian of The Ink World.

“Turn the page,” Inky rasped.

Bendy obliged.

“Thanks.”

Inky must have really been trying to be diplomatic that morning. He had never thanked Bendy for turning the pages in his books before. Elsewhere in the apartment, Audrey rushed from the bedroom to the bathroom, carrying clothing. “Of all the times for my shirt to rip! I’m going to be late at this rate.”

There had to be something Bendy could do, so he went for the first thing that came to mind. “Hey, Inky.”

“Hmm?” Inky failed to raise his ink-covered gaze from the page.

“You’re amazing.”

This remark got Inky’s attention. His head lifted. “What?”

“You’re amazing,” Bendy repeated. “You are a pretty cool big brother.”

After a long pause, Inky grumbled, “And you like to put labels on everyone and everything,” but then added, “which is appropriate for a little brother, I suppose.”

Bendy grinned. Now they were getting somewhere. He considered how to improve the situation, as Audrey came stumbling out of the bathroom. “Oh no, I can’t believe how clumsy I’m being today,” she said, dabbing at a water stain on her shirt with a towel. Her voice lowered as she muttered to herself, “The truck was only driving past. I shouldn’t let it bother me so much. We’re fine.”

Sensing a need to brighten her morning a little bit, Bendy leaned back in his chair. “Hey Audrey.”

“Yes?” she asked, continuing to attack the stain.

“You’re a wonderful big sister.”

Audrey paused as the words sank in. A small smile broke through the anxiety on her face. “Aww, thank you, Bendy.” She took a moment to come over and pat Bendy between his horns. “That’s sweet. You make a wonderful little brother.”

“I’m bigger and older than both of you,” Inky rasped with a snigger.

For a moment, Bendy thought about mentioning how Inky was currently smaller than them due to being a reflection, only to swallow back the words. It might have made his proclaimed brother self-conscious again.

Audrey chuckled. Then she noticed the clock, glanced down at the large stain still in evidence, and made the decision to change her shirt again. She rushed into the bedroom.

“While we are on the subject of labels…” Inky went on, “When do you plan to tell Henry about your new label for him?”

“The next time we go to our other world,” Bendy said proudly. “But I want to do it just right. I’d like to get him some kind of special gift too.”

“What, do you plan to surrender your rabbit ears?” Inky asked, an edge of hope in his tone.

Bendy shook his head. “I thought about giving him my toy train.”

“The small thing from your miniature city?” Inky huffed, and both their glances slid over to the model metropolis which, despite Bendy’s efforts to scale it back, had bloomed again. There were several toy vehicles on the roads there, including a train that wound on a track almost around the entire city. The engine in the front could easily fit in the palm of his gloved hand. “Well, I guess Henry should be easy enough to impress.”

“Actually, I kind of meant my toy train from our other world,” Bendy said, wringing his hands. “It was the first thing I ever really owned, and I found it while hiding from Wilson and the Keepers.” He could still visualize the sizable train, held in his gloved hand, and could practically feel the weight of it. Audrey had hinted, when she had brought him other toys, much earlier on, that she might be able to locate a toy train like the kind he had had when they first met. However, Bendy had always shaken his head at the offer.

Nothing could replace that toy train, and as time had passed, other gifts—most of them not toys—had come into his life. He would have felt ungrateful to insist on looking for it.

Until now…

“I lost it when I ran away from Audrey,” Bendy said, rubbing his hand at the memory, “after she accidentally shocked me.”

“I know,” Inky rasped. “I was there.”

“Everything afterwards was kind of confusing until Audrey reset the Cycle.”

Inky stared at him. “Does it really have to be that toy train?”

Bendy met his glance. “Yes, it does.”

Audrey rushed out of their bedroom, slipping on her shoes. “All right. I’m finally off, you two. Have a good day, and I’ll be back in the eve—”

“We are going with you, Audrey,” Inky announced, and Audrey nearly fell over in the act of balancing on one foot and slipping on her other shoe.

“Huh?”

Inky sniggered at her bewilderment, and then compounded it by declaring, “Bendy and I have a train to catch.”

***

They avoided taking the elevator. Henry still felt a chill streak down his spine at the sight of what was essentially a metal cage lifted and lowered on cords between floors. Even when he hadn’t recalled the endless succession of Cycles while using it in the past, the instability and creakiness had never settled well with him. Then the twisted Alice Angel would always prove his fears right each time, dropping him and Buddy from a great height down into the depths of The Studio.

Initially, Henry had considered asking if Allison had a map for navigating downwards while safely avoiding the elevator, but Joey insisted he knew those kinds of routes. So now they moved along dark, corridors between walls and shuffled down steps, careful to avoid slipping, while Joey lit the way ahead with his lantern.

“I take it you’ve used these often in the past?” Henry suggested, keeping his voice low. Through cracks in the wood, he could see that they were passing the floor for the Heavenly Toys workshop, where Butcher Gang members had apparently taken up residence in greater numbers. A Slicer sauntered past, paused nearby as if perhaps sensing their presence, and then thankfully continued to shuffle onwards.

Joey Drew sighed. “As mentioned previously, Henry, I've tended to stick around my safehouse in the sewers. However,” he hesitated, as if fearing his next words might condemn him, “I will admit to having used them on occasion to watch your progress.”

Now there was something. While Henry struggled between floors, carried out Alice Angel’s tasks as her appointed “errand boy,” and fought Searchers, Joey Drew might have been moving along through the walls.

“It must have been dangerous with Inky moving around,” Henry remarked. "He can go through the walls as well.”

“He never moved along these passages, but instead went through the wood and used the pipes to travel about. The real Joey Drew also ensured there was relatively little danger for me from The Ink Demon, or Inky, during each Cycle. He gave me a sort of cloaked protection from The Ink, which made me harder to notice and easily forgettable by Inky and most of the other residents.”

“Kind of an ‘out of sight, out of mind,’ principle, then. No wonder Wandering kept forgetting you.”

“It was important for my survival,” Joey said. “You might have noticed I am nowhere near as fast or agile as you, old friend. The actual Joey Drew allowed you certain boons to carry out the plotline drawn up for you, and he did the same for me.”

Henry tightened his grip on the wrench he had brought along. “But the ‘actual’ Joey Drew isn’t in control of our lives anymore, Joey. We don’t need to follow any of his ‘plotlines.’”

“The world Joey Drew created and his influence over us are still relevant factors.” Joey shook his head sadly. “We each have our burdens to bear. You, Henry, have managed to slip beyond the bounds of what our creator had in mind for us, and for that I must offer up my commendation. But I am still bound by responsibilities set down on paper long ago.”

“Somewhere in Audrey’s sketch book, I take it?” Henry could hear the bitterness in his own voice.

Joey Drew sighed. “Torn out of the sketch book and hidden away. I am still bound by those words, even though they have been removed from the greater sketch book, because of who wrote them.”

“Exactly where is it hidden?”

“Ah, we are passing the floor where The Projectionist used to roam, once upon a Cycle,” Joey said, nodding at a widened hole in the wood. The room beyond was vast, its floor completely covered in ink. Laying upon the stairs that led up to the elevator was a heart just like the kind Alice Angel had had Henry retrieve for her again and again.

He shuddered, spied the tape recorder which held a recording of Norman’s voice, and experienced a wave of relief that The Projectionist now had a safe place to stay up at the community theater on the very cusp of its grand opening. Somewhere up in the light and surrounded by a warm community.

“Tell me, why were there tape recordings left throughout The Studio, exactly?” Henry asked as they descended a particularly narrow set of steps. “I have my suspicions, but I just want to know for sure.”

“To torment you with the voices of the people you abandoned at Joey Drew Studios,” Joey replied right away. Then he paused and shook his head, as if trying to get his thoughts organized appropriately. “Pardon. What I mean to say is… Joey Drew wanted to torment you with the voices of the people he accused you of having abandoned at Joey Drew Studios. He wanted to emphasize how terrible things had gotten after his former business partner had left, and to make it clear everyone had suffered as a result.”

Cracks stopped appearing in the walls. Down here, the clinking and clanking of ink through the pipes in the walls had all the sickly qualities Henry had known for most of his existence, until his whole worldview had shifted forever. Listening to the groans and moans, he had a distinct urge to rub the walls and offer a few soothing words to Wandering, because here in the darkest reaches of The Studio, they were still in agony. Despite all the progress they had made amid the upper floors.

It was a testament to how much work they still had left to do in healing The Studio.

“The only problem with that reasoning,” Henry muttered, patting the wall in any case, “is the only impressions I ever got from those recordings was of Joey Drew having been a rotten person who inflicted suffering on everyone.”

“True, which Joey Drew found was the problem with trying to twist the truth to his own ends,” Joey said as they reached a door in the darkness. “By providing the actual testimonials of his employees and other parties, without embellishments or revisions, his own wrongdoings were what came to the surface. As time went on, Joey came to understand that fact all too well, and eventually he left those recordings, understanding their impact and wanting to be punished, in a way, for the acts he had committed.”

“Joey wanted to be punished?” Henry found it a little hard to believe. “After everything he did, and all the ways he wiggled out of taking responsibility for his mistakes and crimes?”

Grabbing ahold of the doorknob, Joey turned to him. “It was because he had managed to wiggle out of everything, because the law and nothing else had brought the full extent of his deeds into the open, that Joey began to deteriorate from the inside out.” His face was worn. “The guilt became far more pronounced and demanding after The Ink Machine granted his wish to understand how a family could mean so much to someone, alongside Audrey.”

He sighed. “Of course, there had been his other attempts to create a family to fill the void in his lonely apartment. Tries that on their own resulted in what Joey considered to be… failures. Until his wish got granted. Then they became things to brush into the past and try and forget. Even though he never fully could.”

“What do you mean by—?” Henry began, only to get cut off by Joey opening the door into what appeared to be a massive drainpipe with grating over the front. There was a hole in the metal, however, through which Henry was able to flow.

He turned around and saw Joey phase right through the grating.

The shock on his face made Joey’s lips tweak into an apologetic smile. “Another boon,” he explained. “Good for slipping into the passageways in the walls, moving through locked doors, and overcoming the occasional grate.”

Henry chuckled. “Another ability that’s all your own and unique to you, right?” he said.

“You would say so, Henry,” Joey replied. “But it was given to me, all the same, for specific purposes.”

“Come on, Joey! You are the one who chooses how to use your abilities. You have choices.”

“On the contrary, I’m afraid you are the only one between us with much in the way of free will.” Joey shrugged his shoulders, as if he were discussing something irrelevant to set aside as soon as possible. “Come to think of it, not even this trip was my choice.”

“Joey, that is not the same thi—”

“Take a moment to look around, old friend. Do you recognize this place?”

Biting back the rest of his retort for the time being, Henry did look around. They were at a kind of docking area, with a short, wooden pier leading to a barge, which he had always driven over the ink and through a massive pipe towards the hidden village of Lost Harbor. Somewhere deep in that ink was an enormous, gloved hand just waiting for an opportunity to drag any crafts which got stuck along the way into the darkness.

“There is another passage that should lead us to Lost Harbor in relative safety,” Joey said. “Even so, we’ll still need to take the barge at least a short distance to reach it. Ready?”

Henry took a deep, steadying breath.

“Yep.”

***

The manor was quiet when Bendy and Inky got there. Betty greeted them in the main hallway, then told them Henry and Joey had gone on a trip to the Film Vault, while Allison and Tom were over at Ink Harmony Park.

“Where is the Film Vault?” Bendy asked.

Inky huffed. “Deep in The Studio.” From his reflection in the bowtie mirror, he waved a dismissive hand. “They will be fine. I know from personal experience that Henry can make the journey without any troubles. As for Joey,” he sneered, “he is annoying difficult to get rid of, so he will likely survive. Besides, we are here for other reasons.”

Bendy perked up at the reminder. “Right! We’re here to find something super important as a gift for Henry.”

“A gift for Henry?” Betty clapped her hands together. “I am sure he will appreciate the gesture very much. He got worried when you ran off so suddenly the other day.”

Pinched by embarrassment, Bendy felt a bit smaller than he had been moments ago. “Yeah, I still need to apologize to him too. First, though, I want to get his gift. Something special I had in mind. Inky says Wandering might be able to help us retrieve it right away.”

“Goodness, Wandering laid down for a nap in the parlor room,” Betty said. “They have been gathering their strength as much as they can, but they were feeling a bit tired.”

“We’ll just wake them up, then.” Inky shrugged.

Betty crossed her arms. “Oh no, you don’t. They need their rest too.” Then she asked, “What gift were you looking for, exactly? Perhaps I can help.”

“I doubt it,” Inky rasped. “It is a very specific item.”

“I used to have a toy train, which I lost here in The Studio,” Bendy explained. He spread his hands to indicate its size. When Betty gasped, his grinned widened in expectation, because it was a good sign.

“Oh my, by chance, I believe I have come across that exact train,” Betty said.

“What, really?” Even Inky couldn’t seem to believe their luck.

Betty nodded. “Porter had the train on one of the shelves in his general store. You know how he goes on expeditions throughout The Studio, and he brings back any number of items and trinkets to sell. That train was one of them.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you!” In his enthusiasm, Bendy hugged Betty around the legs, and she bent to stroke him on the back of the head.

“Any time.” She smiled.

“We should hurry, or else someone else might snatch it first,” Inky warned.

Bendy rushed for the ink fountain.

“Be careful, all right?” Betty called as Bendy stepped into the ink.

“We will!” Bendy promised, right before slipped away through the pipes.

***

Henry tried to keep his hand steady as he drove the barge over the ink. Every sound echoed throughout the tunnel, much too loudly for his comfort. Meanwhile, Joey carefully tended the paddlewheel at the rear and smacked away any blobs of ink that threatened to slow their progress. Henry had to admit that having an extra set of hands to help him made a difference, and as they continued along without hearing any movement below, his pulse stopped racing, and his mind turned to other matters.

“Say, Joey, you talked about other ‘failures’ Joey claimed he had made the wish that brought him Audrey.” He words echoed dangerously in the tunnel. However, his curiosity wouldn’t let him stop there. “What did you mean?”

Joey scanned the inky ways behind them. For a long while, it appeared he would either ignore the question or try to evade it with some other observation. But then he murmured, “Yes, I suppose he would want me to unburden himself in that respect as well….” At last, “Joey Drew tried to create life before Audrey, quite a few times, in the same way he had once done that had resulted in Inky. He drew sketches of a playful and loving child, a little girl, to call his own and ran the image through The Ink Machine.”

He shook his head softly at the implanted memories which must have been writhing before his inner eye. “Most of them were short-lived, twisted creations. The majority burst apart into ink and simply dried up altogether. One of them, though…” He trailed off and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well, she lasted, but she was twisted compared to the vision Joey Drew had wanted to claim for his daughter. He forced her to call him “Uncle Joey,” instead—although it still didn’t satisfy him. Eventually, he sent her into The Ink Machine and tried to forget about her altogether.” His voice was sad and wistful. “She must have felt so lost and alone, even if I remember her being cheerful even when Joey Drew sent her off. She was unable to comprehend the reasons behind what was happening to her. Even now, I don’t think she truly understands why she is here.”

Henry had listened to his confession with growing astonishment. He had stopped driving the barge forward. “Why didn’t you say anything about her before?” he demanded, whirling on Joey, who almost backed right into the paddlewheel. “Audrey basically has a sister wandering around here somewhere, and you never went looking for her? You didn’t tell Audrey that part of the story.”

“No, I went—” Joey Drew broke off, wincing. The shame was on full display now. “Henry, the circumstances around her are complicated. You have said yourself, many times, that I am not the real Joey Drew.”

“You still see Audrey as your daughter, so why not this other daughter who is in The Studio? You understand the injustice of what Joey Drew did, so why not seek to right it? She could have spent all this time waiting for him, or you, to come back and find her!”

“Henry, keep your voice down,” Joey begged. “You’re going to—”

There came surge in the inky river, and an enormous, gloved hand broke the surface. The upraised fingers twisted about towards them. Henry had never understood exactly how the hand could “see” the barge, unless what it did was follow the vibrations of the barge moving across the ink. Although, then again, there had been plenty of occasions where the hand had gone right for him even after keeping the barge still for the longest time.

Now the hand was coming towards them again.

Henry shoved forward the lever to keep them moving as fast as possible, while Joey attacked the blobs that rapidly sought to lodge themselves in the paddlewheel.

“The passageway should be ahead,” Joey shouted above the din. “We’re almost there.” The words were barely out of his mouth before Henry sighted another small set of docks, which he had always bypassed in past Cycles while trying to flee the hand.

This time, at least there was another option. As they drew closer, and the hand was almost upon them, Henry grabbed ahold of Joey’s shirt and flowed across the remaining space onto the docks. The two of them crashed to safety as the hand gripped the barged and dragged it down and out of view.

They waited there in the silence for the longest time, waiting for its reemergence—but the hand remained submerged.

Henry reached his feet and brushed himself off, trying to push down the fury which threatened to bubble back up to the surface after the danger had passed. He had to remember this Joey was struggling with his identity as much as everyone else.

Even so, he couldn’t help the thought that this Joey could have at least done something. With his knowledge, he should have done something for his other daughter, however much he felt bound by the plotline Joey Drew had apparently established for him.

“It’s not what you think. Not completely,” Joey murmured, staring at the spot where the barge had gone down. The despair was clear on his face. “I know where she is right now, and I have kept an eye on her to make sure she has stayed safe in little ways. It is just… I have never presented myself to her directly.”

“Why not?”

Joey got up and headed for a door set into the wall. “Because she has had ample opportunities to find the audio recordings and read the messages associated with Joey Drew,” he said. “She has likely come away with the same impressions of him as you have, and I realized long ago that she would have even more reason to reject me than Audrey does. She doesn’t deserve what she would get by encountering me. It’s best to limit the damage, in a sense. It would take too long to explain the extent of what I mean by that, and time is of the essence.”

His words echoed in the tunnels.

“Maybe we can figure something out to help her,” Henry said. “Who is she?”

What Joey said came out quietly, but it seemed to resound louder than anything either of them had said to that point.

***

“Oh, Bendy,” Porter said, leaning over his counter in the general store. “I see you’re not with Bobby today. Is she off righting other wrongs in The Studio, perhaps?” There was a twinkle in his eye.

"Audrey is at work." Bendy shook his head, then added, “Betty told me and Inky that you found my toy train, so we came to get it.”

“We’re not paying for it,” Inky huffed. “It was Bendy’s to begin with, and you’d better hand it over.”

“Toy train… toy train…” Porter scratched his head and scanned the store shelves as if the very concept of a train had eluded him. But then he brightened. “Oh, I think I know what toy train you mean, but it can’t be yours right now, because Heidi has it.”

“Great. We’ll get her to hand it over, then. Where is—”

“I’m here!” An inky form burst from behind a display, startling Bendy and making even Inky let out a strangled wheeze. Heidi giggled as Inky growled and Bendy took several deep breaths to steady himself. “I’ll bet you didn’t realize I was behind that rack of ropes, did you?”

Bendy grinned. “You were so quiet I didn’t hear you at all.”

Inky grumbled something indistinguishable, although he raised his voice to say, “Tell her to give us the toy train, and then we can leave already.”

“You’d like to see my toy train?” Heidi asked.

Bendy wrung his hands. “I was hoping to give it to Henry as a gift, but I didn’t expect someone else to get it first.”

“You want to give it to Henry as a gift?” Heidi considered him, apparently taking in Bendy’s hopeful look. Her eyes crinkled at the corners in mirth. “All right, then. You can have it so you can have fun with Henry.”

“Really?”

Heidi nodded. “But you’ll need to come with me to my playroom. It’s a special, secret place, but I think you can keep a secret, right? You look like you love fun and games.”

“I do,” Bendy said.

Inky sighed. “He does.”

“Follow me,” Heidi declared, heading for the door.

Filled with excitement, Bendy followed her. It looked like there was going to be a happy outcome to this whole expedition after all. He could already imagine the expression on Henry’s face when the time came to present the toy train, alongside the declaration that Bendy saw him as his father.

Today was going to be incredible.

Chapter Text

Ink Harmony Park radiated vibrancy as Heidi led the way among crowds of Lost Ones. Bendy gazed around at the scene. There were colors everywhere now, and the sun shone high in the blue skies. They passed Tom’s hardware store, where he was showing a customer how to reassemble a radio. In The Tasty Pizza, Allison was discussing a map with Dot while Buddy twirled pizza dough above his head. Big Steve tipped his police cap to them in passing, and Norman was pasting up a poster on the front of the community theater to advertise the band performance scheduled for its grand opening.

Henry must have done the illustration for the poster, Bendy guessed, recognizing his soon-to-be-declared father’s artistic flourishes in the design.

Then they ventured past the actual band, a small group of Lost Ones at whom Sammy was shouting while waving sheet music. Susie Campbell stood nearby, holding her own copy of the music, and seemed to be the one person immune to his wrath.

Everything was perfect. Bendy suppressed an urge to whistle a cheerful tune. Going to a secret playroom seemed like the kind of thing best done quietly, and Heidi threw fugitive glances around the area as if she suspected someone might follow them.

“Isn’t this great?” Bendy gushed. “Everyone is having so much fun out here.”

“Surprising what a few buckets of paint can do,” Inky rasped, “and no one sees us as anything extraordinary.” His tone was wistful. “We can move around undisguised, and even though I could appear in my full form at any time, no one is fleeing from us. We are accepted. I don’t strike terror in everyone as I did before.”

“Of course not.” Bendy felt his grin growing wider in anticipation. “They know we’re both guardians here to protect them. It’s been that way for a while now.”

“Yes, and the more time that passes, the longer that will have been true.”

Bendy slowed. “Inky, are you doing all right? You’re being kind of… well…”

“What, can’t I think out loud once in a while?” Inky grumbled, his usual gruffness reasserting itself. “There is nothing wrong with me making simple observations.”

What Bendy had been on the cusp of saying was that Inky was more withdrawn yet calmer than usual. Aside from his impatience regarding the train, he had simply sat back and observed everything. Inky had failed to snigger when they had spotted Tom, and he hadn’t even tried to emerge since they had come to The Studio. It felt a little too deliberate. Like there was something much deeper going on.

As if guessing at his thoughts, Inky huffed, “This whole ‘expedition to find the train and give it to Henry’ is your mission, all right? I am just here to point out your mistakes and make sure you don’t do anything too ridiculous. I could be reading Frankenstein right now, after all, or beating you at checkers.”

“Er. Thanks?” Bendy said, then added, “Getting my train is easier than I thought it would be.”

“You haven’t gotten the train yet,” Inky reminded him. “Besides, when things appear too simple and convenient, it is suspicious.”

Bendy waved a hand in the air. “Heidi isn’t suspicious. She’s nice, and her playroom sounds like a lot of fun too.”

“I never said she was suspicious.”

“Huh?”

From among the crowds, Heidi called out, “You need to pick up the pace if you want to come with me.” She waved a hand, and Bendy realized he had stopped walking altogether. “Or maybe you want to play hide-and-seek first? I always love a good game of that. I’m a master at it.”

“I’m coming!” Bendy scurried after her. They broke away from the plaza and loped across a verdant stretch of the park. Heidi was swift, and more than a few times, Inky told Bendy to hurry up or they might just lose her.

Then Heidi slipped around a tree. Bendy followed her at a run and crashed right into a sizable stump. He flopped back onto the ground, rubbing his face.

“Watch where you’re going,” Inky grumbled irritably.

“I was watching where I was going,” Bendy muttered back, and glanced about.

Heidi was nowhere in sight.

Bendy sprang to his feet. “Heidi?” he walked around the stump. “Where did you go? Heidi? Hei—” Giggles interrupted his desperation, and they came right from the stump itself. As he stared in surprise, the top of the stump lifted a bit, and Heidi peered out from between the crack, filled with merriment.

“Told you I was good at hide-and-seek. Slide on down here, and it’ll take you straight to my playroom. See you at the bottom!” The lid thumped back into place.

Bendy creaked open the lid and peered into the darkness. He could perceive a chute which wound downwards, just like an ink pipe. Except there wasn’t ink here to swim through from one destination to the next. He would slide the whole way.

“Are you scared?” Inky sniggered.

“No!” Bendy shouted, trying to hide a quiver. He blushed in embarrassment as the sniggering continued.

“Prove it.”

Bendy took a deep breath, hauled himself onto the ledge, and slid down towards whatever waited at the other end.

***

“He created a special place for her, deep within The Studio,” Joey related in a curiously flat voice as he led the way along the passage, his upheld lantern the only source of illumination. “Somewhere cloaked from the view of The Ink Demon, so he wouldn’t intrude.” He paused, as if considering the next part, and Henry couldn’t help but notice how quiet everything was—aside from faint gurgles from the pipes. Their footfalls were silent.

“Putting on all the charismatic charm that had served him well throughout most of his career, Joey Drew taught her a game. Or, more specifically, a crucial survival technique disguised as a game, which anyone in The Studio needed to know to survive. They spent a whole afternoon practicing around the apartment, until she could do it without giggling or laughing at the fun she was having.”

As Henry listened, it was as if he could imagine the scene. An inky child hiding around an apartment like the one he had seen at the end or very beginning of every Cycle, while Joey Drew stalked around with grim purpose, tainted by a conviction to be rid of his latest perceived failure.

“He told her to go into the room he had created and slowly count to 100, and then he sent her into The Ink Machine. She doubtless followed his directions telling her where to go. He had created a quick and easy path for her to take, and she likely followed them without a second thought, being such a kind and happy child. She would have slipped into the room and counted to 100.”

Now the silence between each section of the story felt as stifling as moving through The Ink itself. Like it might consume everything if left to stretch on for too long. Henry struggled to breathe, tightening his grip on his wrench, but he managed to ask, “Then what?”

“By then, Joey Drew had erased the way she had used to get there and had ensured she couldn’t get back out into The Real World.”

***

Bendy stood in a large room that looked like something out of his wildest imaginings. Kites dangled from the ceiling, alongside streamers and pinwheels. Balloons bobbed among them. Vintage paper masks of various animals covered the walls, alongside old Bendy cartoon posters, plaques commemorating awards won for animation achievements, pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey games, and numerous sketches. Meanwhile, there were toys galore scattered across the floor, including bouncy balls, marbles, rocking horses, and jump ropes.

His eyes immediately got drawn to a city made of wooden blocks much larger than anything Bendy had or could ever construct back home. With reverence, he stepped over and examined all the details. As he stepped around it, something crunched under his foot, and he jumped back.

There were sketches of buildings, from some type of leading tower to a palace of some sort, which weren’t too far away from more wooden block creations that were clearly attempts to replicate them. A machine also sat pressed against of the cartoon posters, with a crank on the side and a picture set into the dial on the front, showing a block, just above a slot. A bin filled with small ink blots stood off to one side.

He made an instant connection. Picking up one of ink blots, he slid it into the slot and turned the crank. A wooden block popped out of the slot and onto the floor.

Bendy grinned, continuing to take in the room, where it seemed like there was always more one toy to notice or fun thing to try. “Neat! Heidi wasn’t kidding. This has got to be the biggest playroom ever, right, Inky?” When he didn’t get an immediate response, he twisted his head enough to look at his bowtie mirror.

Inky was gazing at the surroundings quietly, mulling over something.

“What’s the matter?” Bendy asked. “You’ve got to admit that Heidi was right. I never would have thought there would be a playroom like this in The Studio.”

“Exactly. This setup is too elaborate,” Inky rasped. “There were never these kinds of objects scattered about in our world, even among the pieces of Bendy Land. I would know. It is suspicious.”

“They’re just toys. Nothing suspicious about them. Heidi must have had lots of fun down here.”

Inky snorted in exasperation.

“Well, it’s true,” Bendy said, unsure why Inky was suddenly flustered. He could feel it at the back of his mind, and the last thing he wanted was another argument. “I don’t get why you’re mad at me.”

“Because you are clueless when it comes to—” Inky cut himself off, seeming to think better of it. He heaved a deep, rugged sigh, and then slowly rasped, “Think for a moment. Do these toys look like the kind of things Joey Drew would include in a world meant to entrap me and punish Henry? Or even things Wilson would bring here? Remember how our world was before Audrey came.”

Bendy shuddered at the idea of it, and how nightmarish the conditions were then—even in the relatively short period of time he had wandered around The Studio compared to everyone else stuck in the Cycle. “There were the toys at the Heavenly Toys workshop, and a couple of wooden ducks and such here and there.” He could hear the doubt in his own voice. “You’re not counting them, though, are you?”

Inky shook his head.

“What does that mean, then?” Bendy asked. Then a thought struck him, and his eyes brightened. “Hey, maybe Heidi used to be a toymaker in the other world! She could have made these toys if she knew about them.”

“Perhaps,” Inky conceded, before adding, “You could find her and ask rather than messing around. Oh yes, and there is the train too.”

“I love making toys!”

Once again, Bendy found himself surprised from behind by Heidi. This time, he went crashing right against a wall. Pieces of paper slipped to the floor. “Oops, sorry,” he said.

Heidi giggled. “Oh, that’s all right. Things fall over and down around here all the time. Toys like to be moved around. That’s part of the fun!” She reached behind her back and produced the wooden train. “I’d missed this train. It was my first one too.”

“How did you know it was my first one?” Bendy asked.

“That glimmer in your eye, and your excitement… I could tell it was special,” Heidi said, as she handed the train to Bendy. He hugged it close, remembering the wonder and happiness he had experienced on coming across the toy. However, Heidi’s mention of missing it did nag at him. “And now it’s going to be special for Henry too. Toys should be where they can bring the most happiness—that’s what I say.”

“You’re not going to miss it again, are you?”

Heidi shook her head, and her hair-like, inky tendrils shook gently. “Oh no, I’ve long since made my own version of it. Want to see?” Without waiting for a reply, she turned and strolled away, humming a cheerful tune.

“You’ve got the train,” Inky grumbled. “Now let’s get out of here.”

Bendy, however, had bent to pick up one of the papers that had fallen on the floor. It was a sketch, and he frowned at the depiction of a girl with a bow and longer, inky hair. There were words at the bottom of the page, “To My Big Star, down in her Heidi-Hole. Love, Uncle Joey.”

He froze, and Inky made a slight gurgling sound.

“Uncle Joey?” they murmured at the same time.

***

Heidi…

Henry had seen her several times around Ink Harmony Park, oftentimes helping Porter at the General Store or Buddy at The Tasty Pizza. But she was, it seemed at times, all over the place to lend an extra hand where needed. She was good at picking up new skills as well.

The few times they had really interacted, Heidi had struck Henry as among the happiest Lost Ones he had ever come across, and according to Porter, that had been the case even before Audrey had reset the Cycle. She was like Bendy in that her mission was to apparently spread around some cheer. And it was thanks to her that Henry had the ability to travel between certain ink fountains.

Now her merriment struck him as a bit sad in its own way.

Silence fell after Joey finished his story. The lantern trembled in the air for a moment in the darkness of the passageway.

“Joey, you weren’t the one who sent her here,” Henry said amid the sudden stillness.

The reply came like a whisper, “But I have the guilt. That can’t be erased.”

A door opened in the darkness onto an eerily familiar scene. “Welcome to Lost Harbor,” Joey announced as they emerged from the façade of a shed. “Originally envisioned as a recreation of Galloping Gulch from the comic, Giddy Up, Bendy, the site got claimed by Lost Ones seeking shelter from The Ink Demon.” He gestured towards the ramshackle buildings, and then towards a boarded-up fort of sorts at further back. All of which seemed to have been completely abandoned.

“Sammy Lawrence often spoke to his congregation from atop a crate while here, telling them of their duty to dispatch any intruders. He did it every time you were on the way here, Henry, driving the barge during past Cycles.” Joey was in full instruction mode suddenly, although Henry noticed a certain quiver in his voice. “Having returned from The Dark Puddles a short while previously, he would be even further from reality than before. He would even mistake you, Henry, for The Ink Demon himself. It was all carefully plotted and carried out by participants who never realized how many times they had done so. They believed it was a moment for them to take a stand, one that might never come again. Even though that choice had been taken away from them from the beginning.”

It was jarring how animated Joey had become right after making such a terrible confession in the darkness of the passageway. Almost like he had only been able to talk about his other daughter while hidden by the shadows, where no one could see him as he did so. From more shame, perhaps. And now he wasn’t even looking at Henry while glancing around Lost Harbor, as if reaching this place might make Henry forget their previous conversation.

But Henry had faced too many situations where the people around him, his companions, had grappled with inner torments they either tried to stamp down or forget about altogether—even if it was obvious that hiding it hurt them.

“What you’ve shared about this area is interesting, Joey,” Henry said, “but there are other issues to discuss.”

“You are right, old friend. We’re close to the Film Vault, and thus to The End reel,” Joey persisted. “Now I know you have always taken something of a shortcut straight down to the offices, but I would suggest another route that is slower and safer.” He nodded at the doorway through which Henry, Allison, and Tom had gone many times, where Henry had tried to cross boards and tumbled downwards. Then Joey indicated an area to the left of it, past a wooden fence. “There is another door over there.”

“No, I meant the issue of Heidi.”

Joey stiffened, then groaned softly. “I’ve told you what I can, Henry,” he said. “As mentioned, her situation is complicated. Fortunately, thanks to the recent changes around The Studio, she has been doing much better. That is the end of it. I know you like to push further into such matters, but in this case, there is nothing more to be done.”

“Did the Joey Drew from outside The Ink Machine decide that, or did you?” Henry asked.

“It doesn’t matter, Henry.” Joey shook his head. “I have made no secret of my role in The Studio, in guiding Audrey, and—”

“To make amends for Joey Drew. You’ve said that a few times already,” Henry said. “Wouldn’t meeting and making peace with Heidi count as one of the ways to make amends?”

Joey frowned as he considered it. His brows drew together in thought, and he muttered as if to himself. “Don’t think I haven’t thought about appearing to her in person before. There were no instructions specifically about Heidi on that front. Joey Drew did consider her a mistake, but after his wish got granted, he did think about her from time to time. He knew there was nothing he could do. Well, not really. Nothing that would make everything right after he realized how much he had messed up.”

“You don’t know, do you?” Henry crossed his arms. “Joey Drew left you with some knowledge and instructions, but you have been guessing from there, haven’t you?”

“That knowledge has been vital to understanding what Joey Drew wanted done,” Joey said. “But I will admit there has been some guesswork for me to do, including when it comes to the very nature of the Cycle and how he felt about it by the end of his life. It became an inheritance, something to pass onto Audrey so she could keep it and its occupants safe. He was a much different man in many ways by the time he passed away. In creating me, I can only surmise he wanted to put his best foot forward for Audrey—and to give her the version of Joey Drew he wanted to have always been by that point.”

Henry considered it. “We were both based on people from outside The Ink Machine, but that doesn’t mean we’re exact duplicates of them.” He managed a small smile. “After we get The End reel, I’ll go with you to see Heidi. How about that?”

“You’re not going to let this go until I agree, are you, Henry?” Joey asked.

Henry shrugged. “Family means a lot to me.”

“It does to me as well,” Joey said. “And talking to you, old friend, I’m beginning to think I would feel the same way even without any memories from another person. Besides, it might surprise you to know that despite my hesitancy about approaching her directly, I have sought to make amends with Heidi in my own way.”

That was when Henry noticed movement out of the corner of his eye.

***

Bendy caught up with Heidi at some sizable train tracks. They were as impressive as the large wooden block city she had constructed and wound around the model of a mountain covered in miniature trees. A wooden train engine sat on the tracks, connected to numerous railcars, and as Bendy watched, Heidi gave the train a great push along the track.

As it rattled along, Bendy whistled softly, “The engine looks exactly like this one.” He glanced down at the one in now cradled in one arm.

“Told you I made my own version of it,” Heidi said. “I love toys, and I’ve been able to figure out ways to make more copies of the ones around my playroom.” She sounded proud. “There are bits of unused wood everywhere in The Studio, and the right tools to carve things. I’ve visited Heavenly Toys many times.”

Bendy grinned. “It’s like Heavenly Toys down here, but even better. I surprised you haven’t opened a shop.”

“Oh yes, I have thought about that,” Heidi replied. “But there’s someone I promised myself that I would find first.”

“A certain ‘uncle,’ perhaps?’” This grumbled remark came from Inky, clearly in a move to steer the conversation towards the sketch in Bendy’s hand.

Heidi noticed it. “Ah, yes, Uncle Joey! He’s ever so nice. He drew that sketch of me a while back, and I’ve had it on the wall ever since.”

“He is?” Bendy asked.

“Yes, he is,” Heidi said. “He likes to send notes to encourage and teach me about different things, and he has given me several presents.” Eager to share this wondrous information, she went over to a set of cabinets along one wall, close to a large bed dominated by plush toys. She pulled out a few papers and handed them down to Bendy.

Bendy stared at the message, which told Heidi to be careful and quieter than usual because of the Keepers who had been passing close to her hiding place at the time. He recognized the writing style, even though he had only seen it once before—when he had written in the sketch book and reached not Henry, but someone else instead.

“You’re looking for Joey?” he asked.

“Uncle Joey,” Heidi confirmed. “That’s right. He’s the one who taught me how to play hide-and-seek, you see, and even though I’m good at it, I have never been able to find him. He is a master at games, and sometimes he has even given me tips about putting new toys together. So, I figure that if I can find him, I’ll have reached his level of talent and can open a toyshop proudly.” She giggled.

“What would you say,” Inky rasped quietly, “if we could give you a hint where to find your ‘Uncle Joey?’”

“Oh, I should love that! I know you are a master at playing hide-and-seek too, after all.”

Bendy sensed a sudden smugness, mixed with mischief and something else, at the back of his mind. Whether or not she was aware of it, Heidi had just said the magical words—complimenting Inky while also giving him a chance to cause some chaos for Joey Drew.

As such, Inky rasped in a voice dripping with a little too much honey, “Have you ever checked the manor?”

“I haven’t,” Heidi said.

“Then why don’t you come with us there? I think you might be pleasantly surprised.” He sniggered.

***

Something had skittered behind a crate on one of the porches. Henry thought he heard odd, little chittering sounds. Joey, however, had apparently seen what it was, and he visibly paled.

“What is it?” Henry dropped his voice to a whisper, even though he suspected it was too late for stealth.

Joey was scanning the area and frowning. “Ink Widows,” he murmured.

“Ink widows?” They rang a bell for some reason. There had been something, Henry was sure, in one of the earlier exchanges Henry had had with Audrey, back when they were still trading information about their past experiences in The Studio. Of course, before he could ask anything else, there came more chittering noises from nearby. They had been so faint at first that he probably hadn’t even noticed them begin, especially with how distracted he had allowed himself to become.

He had gotten so used to being somewhere safe and comfortable that he had momentarily forgotten the cardinal rule for wandering around The Studio. Or, at least, he had forgotten the importance of it throughout these sections of The Studio—that there could be enemies lurking everywhere.

Glass shattered on the windows of the buildings, as several small forms emerged, and Henry no longer needed to ask Joey to describe them further. Because there they were in full view. Inky spiders with large mouths that had sharp teeth on their bodies. They were crawling down the wooden towards the street, and the chittering echoed around Lost Harbor.

“Hurry, we might be able to get away from them through the passageway,” Joey said, hurrying towards the route he had suggested. Henry could see, though, that Joey was hobbling a bit. It wasn’t something that had ever been noticeable before, mostly because he hadn’t seen Joey do much running. However, Henry knew outrunning these Inky Widows wouldn’t be an option unless the passageway was indeed nearby.

There was the creak as Joey opened the wooden fence, and then they both sucked in their breath sharply at the sight of a space crammed with black eggs, some of which were right up against the door to the passageway several feet away. What appeared to be inky spiderwebs covered a good portion of it as well.

Henry and Joey backed away from the fence.

Meanwhile, the Ink Widows continued to creep in towards them.

Chapter Text

They had holed up in the shelter once used by Sammy Lawrence. What deterred the Ink Widows were all the candles the crazed prophet had used amid his rituals—several of which had Henry hurled out at intervals to drive back the chittering monstrosities now swarming throughout Lost Harbor. Even fleeing towards the passageway that had brought them to this area would have been suicidal.

It was only a matter of time before boldness overcame any concern the Ink Widows had regarding the fire, but Henry knew how valuable even a few minutes of solace was in forming a plan of escape. The Miracle Stations in which he had hid from Inky on numerous occasions in the past had embedded that lesson deeply into him.

“Were these things always in The Studio?” Henry scanned the skittering arachnids outside.

Joey, leaning against the back wall with his arms crossed, shook his head. “They were Gent experiments.”

Dire as their current circumstances were, the implications of that statement took Henry aback. “Resetting the Cycle should have wiped out all traces of Wilson and his Keepers!” he blurted out.

“Henry, you know that hasn’t been true. Even where you live nowadays is a testament to that.”

The manor. It had become such a familiar place for them, Henry had almost forgotten its darker origins. There were also locations like the Old Gent Workshop, which despite their inactivity were suddenly more worrisome, and the train system that Gent had planned to expand deeper into The Studio.

And Betty. Henry had believed she, in some way, had managed to survive the reset in Cycles due to how close she had been when Audrey did it, but now the true meaning of wiping out all the traces of Wilson came to the forefront of his mind. If a new Cycle had truly set everything back to the way things had once been… Betty would have disappeared as well. They never would have met.

One of the Ink Widows was getting dangerously close to their hideout. He grabbed another lit candle and tossed it, which sent several of the creatures skittering backwards while gnashing their teeth.

“The next thing you’ll tell me is there are Keepers hiding out in the Old Gent Workshop,” Henry muttered, and then really wished he hadn’t. Ink Widows were one thing, lurking in the depths of The Studio, but Keepers waiting for the perfect time to launch an ambush so close to Lost City and Ink Harmony Park would have been intolerable.

Thankfully, Joey put his fears to rest. “Oh no,” he offered a brittle smile. “The Keepers who were here in The Studio when Audrey reset the Cycle got completely wiped out. They were mostly made of Ink, so they could better carry out their duties here. The Ink Widows have more of a blending of Ink and Iridescent Ink, but their natural instincts are to stick around darker corners of The Studio. They would never leave The Ink Machine. But they were a way for Wilson and Gent to experiment with what they could create. Before they tested out other concepts.”

Henry could guess who those other “concepts” had included. But his mind was still stuck on how Joey had emphasized the Keepers who were here in The Studio—as if there could be others. He could have been thinking too much into it, but the inflection still nagged at him.

Another Ink Widow drew closer, and he chucked another candle. The tactic was still working, but the Ink Widows were getting a little too comfortable around the collection hurriedly arranged and reinforced just outside.

“Tell me, Joey,” Henry tried to keep his voice steady, “while we still have some moments to spare… were you the one who wrote that letter for Audrey to give her boss? The letter that gave Henry Stein credit for creating Bendy, Boris, and Alice Angel?”

“Henry, you might have trouble believing it, but Joey Drew did write that letter. I was instructed to pass it along.” Joey went to peer out the opening as well. His face was grave as he added, “He did genuinely attempt to fix what mistakes he could at the end. The ones he felt it was possible to fix in some way, alongside with a few other instructions, were what he passed onto me. They became my burden to bear, and those directions have allowed me to help Audrey and others in small ways. It was the best he could hope for me to achieve.”

“What about what you want to achieve?” Henry scanned the short path to the doorway he had normally taken in past Cycles. If he flowed over there, pulling Joey along, they would still plummet down to the offices below. And there were no guarantees the Ink Widows wouldn’t follow them.

“There is nothing else for me to do, old friend,” Joey said. “If I don’t have and follow what instructions have been left behind for me, then I will lose a grip on what I know and understand.”

“You still have a choice, Joey.”

“I have always encouraged the freedom of choice in others, Henry.” Joey gave him a level look. “Even if we have been born from darkness, we don’t belong to it; I would be the first one to say that.” Joey wore a melancholy smile. “But our circumstances are different. You are always running forward, always eager to progress onto something else to better yourself, which is something Joey Drew understood despite his pettiness in crafting The Studio. As for me, though, I find it difficult to move onto new courses of action, just like Joey Drew. I am constantly engrossed in studying the shadows of the past. They fascinate me—and understanding them helps me to be a better guide for Audrey and others.”

Henry perked up. “They personally fascinate you?” he murmured, remembering the work desk in the laboratory with carefully labelled bins and folders for all the decoded documents. Then he asked, trying to avoid sounding too eager, “Was Joey Drew well-organized?”

“In certain ways,” Joey shrugged, “he became more absent-minded as the years passed, based on my memories from him. He would leave memorabilia and other artifacts from Joey Drew Studios scattered about at times. ‘Like the way my road of dreams fell apart,’ he once mentioned aloud. And it became worse as his health declined. Even though each one had great historical significance. He could have passed more things onto Audrey if he had taken better care of them.” He paused. “May I ask why you’re smiling, Henry?”

“Oh, I was just thinking you might be more of an individual than you realize. The only thing is you need a slightly bigger nudge in the right direction to realize it.”

Joey blinked a few times, as if trying to figure him out, and then shook his head with a sigh. He gazed in the same direction as Henry had several minutes previously and murmured, “You know, Henry, you could make it down to the Film Vault from here with your abilities. You could Flow along the usual route you’ve taken in past Cycles, hide in Miracle Stations and elsewhere if followed, and find your way back up through The Studio. I could stay here, and possibly distract the Ink Widows.”

“No, Joey. We’re getting out of this together.”

“I appreciate it, Henry, but I would slow you down.”

“Stop trying to sacrifice yourself!” Henry snapped in frustration, surprising himself at the sharpness of it. From the way Joey’s eyebrows shot up, it had surprised him as well. “Sorry,” he muttered. “It’s just that you remind me of Wandering sometimes, in the way they have trouble taking care of themselves…” He trailed off as a thought struck him.

Wandering. Of course. Henry should have considered them earlier, except he had been making an active effort to avoid bothering them too much, so as not to become too dependent on their assistance. Since it was an emergency, though, he went to the wall at the back of the shelter, placed his hands on it, and called, “Wandering, can you hear me? It’s Henry. We need your help.”

Slipping on his Seeing Tool glasses, he waited for a response of some sort, even it was just a few golden words. Several tension-filled moments followed, but all they could hear was the groaning of ink moving through the pipes and the increasing chitters of the Ink Widows outside the shelter. Henry called out several more times, knocking on the wall, without success—interrupted in the end by Joey chucking numerous candles at the Ink Widows to drive them away. However, it was clear they were getting bolder, and the supply of candles was running low.

“I don’t think Wandering can hear me. The bad conditions down here could have something to do with it, or maybe it’s because they are in their physical form,” Henry said. He had remembered Wandering coming out of the wall to join them at breakfast, and then mentioning how tired they were as they had helped Henry and Betty with the dishes afterwards. In fact, Henry had been the one to encourage them to at least take a nap. “There has got to be some way to reach them.”

Joey paused. His brows furrowed in thought, which gave way to a firm resolve. “Say, Henry, there is something we could try. It is an ability I’ve only ever used for instructional purposes with Audrey, and which I was only ever supposed to use for Audrey, but which might benefit us here as well.”

“You’re making the choice to do something else with it, then,” Henry said, intrigued by this newly broached ability.

Joey didn’t answer. Instead, he reached out to touch Henry on the head. His eyes closed.

Light clouded Henry’s vision.

***

Betty was coming out of the parlor when Bendy emerged from the ink fountain with Heidi. “Welcome back,” she said with a smile, “and I see you’ve brought along a guest.”

“Hello.” Heidi waved a hand. She wore a bag slung across one shoulder, bulging from the contents crammed inside. “I’m here to find my uncle.”

“Your uncle?” Betty looked confused.

“We will explain later,” Inky rasped from the bowtie mirror. Meanwhile, Bendy asked, “Are Henry and Joey back yet?”

“Not yet, although I shouldn’t think they will be much longer.” Then Betty noticed what Bendy was holding. “Ah, you found your train. How wonderful.”

“Heidi had gotten it first,” Bendy explained, “but she let me have it for Henry.”

“Well, that’s quite nice of her.” Betty nodded approvingly. “How about you come into the dining room, and I’ll make us a pot of tea?”

“Ooh, what kind of tea?” Heidi asked.

“Chamomile.”

“I love chamomile!” Heidi strode off after Betty.

Bendy was content to stroll long behind them, hugging the train. He did peer into the parlor, though, and notice Wandering curled on one of the couches and under a blanket that Betty had probably given them. They were frowning in their dreams, turning a bit as if slightly disturbed, their fingers curling into fists.

The blanket slipped off onto the ground, so Bendy came in to put it onto Wandering again. As he did, Inky growled low in his throat.

“What’s wrong?” Bendy whispered, sensing hints of bewilderment from the back of his mind.

“Quiet. There is an odd feeling from The Dark Puddles, from Wandering.”

Bendy thought about asking further, but it was clear that Inky wanted a moment of silence to just listen. So, he tried to be patient, gazing down at the train, and imagining the astonished smile that would break across Henry’s face when he and Joey got back from their trip and Bendy presented it to him.

He also mulled over another issue, which was whether the term “Father” or “Dad” sounded the best for him to use. Audrey had used “Father,” and while it seemed appropriate for Joey Drew, it felt kind of formal too. “Dad,” by contrast, was shorter and felt much more informal. But would it be too informal for their relationship of Henry as a father figure and Bendy as a… well, as his son?

For a moment Bendy simply zoned out, mulling over that term—that soon he could be a son.

***

They were on the first floor. At least, that was the first impression Henry got from appearing in the same hallway where he started so many Cycles—except, as he walked towards the front room, he noticed it also looked the same way as it had throughout most of the present Cycle. Even so, it felt like an eerie step back in time, with the sight of his sketches covering the walls, his desk in the corner, and the table covered with documents and cassette players.

The front room appeared, in fact, as it had before Wandering had accidentally torn things apart while trying to locate Joey Drew in The Studio. In The Studio itself, the place was now fixed thanks mainly to Tom, but it was mostly clean of the stuff that had been there previously.

In this version, he could even see the mailbox used to exchange messages with Audrey, which Joey, also in the room, was carefully giving a wide berth. The only discernible differences he could make out from how this location had once appeared were the presence of a piano against one wall with sheet music of songs that Henry recalled from the piano room in the manor, alongside several board games piled nearby.

He connected the dots right away, although it was still a mind-blowing realization. “You’ve taken us into Wandering’s mind, haven’t you?”

This question managed to get a chuckle from Joey. “Honestly, Henry, I hadn’t thought of this space like that, but I suppose you are right. It is a small pocket formed within The Ink itself.” He patted a projector set up beside a chair. “Another small boon of mine to help Audrey, although I do note the place is much nicer than it was when I brought Audrey here. No doubt a result of some positive influences.” Joey nodded to him before coming over to one of the walls.

“We haven’t physically gone anywhere, though,” Henry guessed, remembering when he and the others had made a similar trip into Wandering’s head while on the subway train. “Just our minds.”

Joey nodded. “Our bodies are still in the shelter in Lost Harbor, where we have left ourselves vulnerable to the Ink Widows, so we must hurry.”

“Right.” Henry knocked on one of the walls, pleasantly warm to the touch, and called, “Wandering! Joey and I are down in Lost Harbor. There are Ink Widows everywhere, we’re trapped, and we could use some help to get past them safely. Can you hear us?”

Golden ink appeared across the walls. As they watched, vast spreads of Zs broke apart, and Wandering wrote, “You… you are down in Lost Harbor?” Then came, “We have been numb there for a while. We do not have much control over that area.”

“Probably because of the Ink Widows,” Joey said. “And I am sure the buildings they came out of are filled with their spiderwebs, which would be composed of Iridescent Ink. From what I can tell, it does strange things to The Ink when not integrated properly.”

“Get Allison and Tom, all right?” Henry said. It was all he could think of to suggest if Wandering was unable to directly influence the environment. “We could use some backup as soon as possible.”

Wandering began to write something else when veins of ink shot across the wall, and the noticeable sounds of wheezing and heartbeats echoed throughout the room. Henry and Joey stepped back in shock, and Henry murmured, “Inky?” as the scene faded around them like a shattered enchantment.

They were back in the shelter, where the chittering had increased in volume just outside. Still feeling somewhat dazed from the sudden transition, Henry peered out. The Ink Widows had skittered away from the shelter and were now swarming in a large circle about the plaza. Lifting their front legs towards the ceiling, they gnashed their teeth with greater enthusiasm than when they had simply been menacing Henry and Joey.

Henry looked up. It was dark on the ceiling, of course, with inky stalactites hanging down. During past Cycles, he had never really need to worry about anything that might come down from the ceiling. But now something bulky shifted about in the shadows. Something with long legs and teeth that glinted in what was, to all extents and purposes, a cavern.

A string of Iridescent Ink became visible as the monstrous form descended. Worrisome as all the Ink Widows were below, they were nothing compared to the enormous one that landed in the center of the plaza. Tilting its body towards the shelter, the creature opened its massive jaws and released a screech that rattled the buildings and caused a round of high-pitched chitters to erupt from its swarm of followers.

“King Widow,” Joey murmured. “From what I understand, he will only emerge when his young are threatened or bothered in some way.”

Henry sighed. “I take it we count under the ‘bothered’ category,” he said, as King Widow came rushing in their direction.

***

A sharp stab of annoyance, tinged with concern and pride, swelled at the back of Bendy’s mind. Wandering sat bolt upright, their eyes wide, and the whole manor rumbled amid a sudden earthquake. It was all Bendy could do to keep from falling over as he clutched his head.

Inky snarled, “I should have known Henry would run into problems with Joey Drew around.” He wheezed and gurgled. “Nothing is ever easy when he is involved.”

Betty came rushing down the hall, followed by Heidi. “Goodness, what is happening?” she asked.

“Trouble in Lost Harbor,” Inky growled. “From Ink Widows.”

“Henry and Joey are in danger?” Bendy murmured, even though he already knew the answer, and determination coursed through him. He could imagine Henry struggling against the inky spiders. Bendy had seen them elsewhere in The Studio and had narrowly escaped from some of them at one point after accidentally disturbing their eggs.

Henry and Joey were fighting against all of them?

The Ink Widows could be hurting Henry at that very moment?

“We have to get down there right now,” Bendy said. “We have to save Henry, and Joey too.”

Betty considered it. “There are the ink fountains…”

Inky grumbled, “Most of the pipes around Ink Harbor are drowned in ink, or they are too clogged to allow for safe passage, but I have my own way of getting around.”

“Right!” Bendy said in relief. “You can bring us to Lost Harbor, and we’ll take on The Ink Widows and save Henry and Joey.”

“No,” Inky rasped. “I will bring us down there, but I will not take on The Ink Widows.”

“What?”

“This is your mission, remember? You are the one with a train to deliver.”

Bendy tapped his forefingers together. “But I’m not as strong and powerful as you are, Inky. How can I fight all those Ink Widows?”

Despite everything, Bendy felt another swell of emotion overtake and abate the anger at the back of his mind as Inky said, unexpectedly gently, “You will lead the charge.”

Bendy cocked his head in curiosity.

“Wandering could go and get help from Allison and Tom as well,” Betty suggested.

“That would take too long. I have another idea,” Inky rasped, then emerged into his full form. He carefully picked up the train that had dropped from Bendy’s fingers amid the transformation. Gazing at it for a moment, he grumbled, “The things I do…” but he didn’t finish the thought aloud. Instead, he leaned down and whispered something to Wandering.

Bendy couldn’t hear exactly what Inky said, but he thought he caught a mention about how there was at least one thing Wandering could spawn even in a place where they were numb, and that while Bendy didn’t look like leadership material, he should be given full authority over them.

Them?

Before Bendy could ask about it, Heidi announced, “I’m coming too. If Uncle Joey is down there to find, that’s where I’m going to go.”

“I am not going to take another route for your sake,” Inky grumbled.

“I know,” Heidi said. “That’s why I’m going to meet you down there. Let’s see who gets there first.” She giggled and rushed off.

Inky shook his head.

“Be careful,” Betty called, as Inky sank down through the floor. Moving through the wood, deeper and deeper, into the depths of The Studio.

From the bowtie mirror, Bendy asked, “Inky, what did you mean about me leading the charge?”

And as they continued downwards, Inky told him.

***

The King Widow had gone careening right into the shelter, heedless of the lit candles. Fortunately, Henry grabbed Joey by the arm and managed to bring them Flowing out past the large arachnid. He half expected them to get swarmed by the smaller Ink Widows, but they drew back to the edges of the plaza as the King Widow tore apart the shelter with his sharp legs, like swords slicing through the wood, and teeth that were probably strong enough to crew into boulders.

Apparently, the younglings wanted to watch their parent destroy Henry and Joey, although they did their part by creating a thick circle around the designated arena of sorts—cutting off their chances of escape.

Henry clutched his wrench tight. “All right, Joey, I take it you don’t have much fighting experience.”

“You are unfortunately correct, Henry,” Joey said. “My main tactic has always been to keep out of sight, which is unavailable to me in these circumstances. Besides,” he stood back-to-back with Henry, “I realized while back there in the shelter… well, that there are some things I would like to tell Audrey and Heidi, preferably when we are all together.”

That’s the spirit. Henry thought to himself. Aloud, he said, “All right, then we both need to fight to get out of this situation alive, agreed?”

“Agreed.”

King Widow twisted about in the wreckage of shelter, turned, and screeched at them.

“What else can you tell me about King Widows? Any weaknesses?” Henry asked as the King Widow crept towards them, with what could have been either genuine or mock caution.

“They like to stick to the darkness, mostly. They hate the light, which is why the candles were so effective against the young Ink Widows. Their legs are also sensitive.”

Henry frowned, watching as the King Widow approach, driving each pointed leg into the ground. Despite the devastation the creature could cause by landing a direct blow with one of them, if hit just right, at the right angles.

“Say, Joey, that cloaking effect you were talking about. How long does it take before you can get someone, or something, to forget about you?”

“With the exception of Inky, Wandering, and The Lost Ones, it does not work well on intelligent beings. And the effect is faster against opponents that are largely thoughtless. The Butcher Gang, for instance, tends to forget about me almost right away. I haven’t made use of it lately, though.”

Henry hefted his wrench. “Let’s see if a King Widow is as intelligent as The Butcher Gang,” he said as the King Widow paused a short distance away, screeched, and charged. “Spilt up, and I’ll distract him. Then we’ll see just how sensitive those legs really are.”

They split up. Henry knew there was a 50/50 chance of the King Widow twisting towards Joey rather than Henry, especially since Joey did indeed move at a slower pace—which meant he needed to land the first blow. As such, he twisted about and smacked the King Widow on one leg, not enough to off-balance the monster, of course, but enough to get his attention. And then he just managed to avoid getting speared by one of the legs.

Henry backed up, seeking to get further away from Joey, and was happy to find the King Widow hadn’t turned around once to go after, Joey, who was coming up from behind quietly. Even the younglings, who conceivably noticed Joey the whole time, were more absorbed in watching Henry as a target.

Joey drew close to one of the back legs and looked at Henry.

They nodded at each other, and Joey brought the wrench hard against the bottommost tip of the leg, knocking it upwards. Meanwhile, Henry lunged forward on the other side, with another leg, and did the same thing.

The King Widow faltered, clearly surprised to have gotten attacked from behind. He began to twist reflexively, which was when Joey and Henry delivered blows to the other legs. There was a screech as the arachnid toppled sideways. It laid still, exposing the underbelly.

The Ink Widows began to draw back, chittering irritably.

“It looks like they’re retreating a bit,” Henry murmured.

“Defeating the King Widow in front of them might cause all of them to flee,” Joey said. “They are braver with their parent nearby.”

Henry gazed around at the swarm. “But they’re still here.”

“Another whack might convince them the battle is over."

Taking a deep breath, Henry approached the King Widow, hoping Joey was right. He hadn’t sounded sure. In fact, he had simply sounded hopeful, which was the best either of them could get right then. Henry drew back his arm with the wrench and was about to deliver a final blow right to the underbelly when he heard Joey shout “Henry!”

There was a flash of movement. The King Widow swept out with the side of one of his legs, smacking Henry hard and sending him flying. Henry hadn’t counted on how much force the King Widow could deliver even while prone, but in the spilt second that he was airborne, he saw the younglings scatter from his projected destination—which was right against the side of a building. He struck the wood hard, knocking the breath from his lungs, and flopped onto the ground. His vision flickered, but he managed to remain conscious.

He heard Joey shout his name again, but his voice wavered in and out for a moment.

Henry saw his wrench laying on the ground near his feet, noticed the King Widow draw closer in-between each eyeblink, and tried to get up. But he wouldn’t be fast enough, not with the King Widow bearing down on him, and the smaller Ink Widows sensing an opportunity to overwhelm their intruders. He could even hear Joey shouting at them to stay back.

Then came a rumble. It reminded him of the time when, during past Cycles, Tom and Allison had saved Henry from Sammy. Without the crazed prophet around, the Lost Ones and others had launched an attack against them.

The King Widow paused, and it seemed to Henry that all the younglings did as well, feeling the vibrations. Seconds later came an explosion of ink right underneath the King Widow, which sent the monster flying back, as a small figure who had been punching upwards landed on the ground right in front of Henry.

“B-Bendy?” Henry blinked in disbelief.

Bendy picked up the wrench and pointed it at the King Widow. “Stay away from my dad!” he shouted, and his voice boomed around Lost Harbor.

Now Henry snapped into better awareness, having heard the message loud and clear.

What? Bendy wanted Henry as a father?

Bendy turned to grin at Henry, with nervous hopefulness and expectation. Amid this unexpected development, Henry thought about his earlier conversation with Joey about Heidi.

Henry hadn’t realized Bendy saw him in that light. Even though he wasn’t the actual Henry Stein who had originally conceived the idea for him.

Then again, the reason probably had nothing to do with who had first thought of Bendy the Dancing Demon. Thinking like that was too much like what Joey had been doing in comparing himself to the Joey Drew from outside The Ink Machine. They were different people.

No, Henry had a feeling that Bendy calling him a dad was for a reason much closer to home, and which came with experience and personal connections. Warmth swelled inside him. He smiled, nodded, and managed to murmur, “Yes,” which made Bendy’s grin widen further. Then the cartoonish imp turned back towards the King Widow and held the wrench aloft. He shouted, “Searchers! Get them!”

Moans erupted as inky torsos with eyeless faces emerged from puddles on the ground. Searchers flailed out at the Ink Widows, which tried to fight back but found that more and more adversaries would pop up to take their place. The Ink Widows got grabbed and dragged down into The Ink Puddles, or flung about, or chased back into the houses, where Searchers followed them.

They drove away the Ink Widows that were becoming too much for Joey to handle, and which he had been managing—with a great deal of effort—to ward off.

Bendy smacked at the Ink Widows who came to close to Henry, and on occasion, Henry heard Inky rasp out warnings about younglings who came too close to him from behind, among other suggestions for swinging the wrench harder or at different angles. Inky wasn’t emerging at all, which Henry couldn’t quite understand at that moment, but which he decided to check into later.

Then the King Widow charged at Bendy, but this time Henry had managed to recover enough to get up. He flowed forward and grabbed Bendy, and the momentum of the charge brought the King Widow colliding with the side of the building.

“Wow, that was really cool!” Bendy gasped, cradled in one of Henry’s arms.

“Dad?” Henry asked with a smile.

Bendy nodded and confirmed, “Dad.”

The King Widow clambered about, tearing into the building while screeching wildly. He managed to turn around, ready to charge again, when what at first appeared to be pebbles came raining down from on high. Henry glanced down and realized, with a start, that they were… “Marbles?”

Laughter erupted from one of the rooftops. It was Heidi.

“Sorry for being a bit late to the fun. I needed to make sure I’d brought along my marbles, so I could lose them!” Heidi called out. The marbles rolled across the floor, making Ink Widows slip all over the place, and generally confusing them. Then Heidi dug into her bag and produced something else. “Did I show you my boomerang?” she called down to Bendy and Henry. “Look what I can do with it.”

As the King Widow twisted about, trying to figure out the chaos surrounding him, Heidi sent the boomerang twirling expertly down to smack the creature hard under the jaw. He went tumbling backwards, and Henry had an idea.

“How would you like to practice your swing?” Henry asked.

Bendy grinned. “Yes, I would!”

“Then get ready.” Henry tensed and flowed forward, right at the King Widow, and Bendy swung as hard as he could—landing a hard wallop on the King Widow right on the side and sending. It was the hardest blow any of them had managed to get in, and the King Widow released a fierce screech that sounded like air being released from a very large balloon. He dropped, legs going akimbo, and lay still, his jaw going slack.

This time, the reaction from the other Ink Widows was immediate. They chittered in apparent horror and fled, with some of them diving right into the inky bay, while the rest simply retreated into what must have been holes or openings somewhere in the shadows along the ceiling.

Silence fell across Lost Harbor.

“We did it!” Bendy cheered, and Henry hugged him. He wasn’t sure what had led Bendy to declare him as his dad, but it felt wonderful, so he chose to forgo questioning it for the time being. Meanwhile, the Searchers dispersed, and one of them left behind an object on the ground.

It was a toy train.

Bendy noticed it and sprang out of Henry’s arms. He rushed over to grab it, and then came back. He held it up. “This is a gift for you,” Bendy said. “I wanted to give you something special, and this was my first toy.”

Henry felt something break a bit inside him, albeit in a good way. A tear came to his eye as he accepted it. “I’ll treasure it, always.”

Bendy’s grin faltered. He twiddled his thumbs. “Is it really okay if I call you Dad?” he asked, sounding quite fragile for a moment. “Really, okay?”

Reaching out, Henry gently touched the side of Bendy’s head with his hand. He smiled. “I would be proud to call you my son,” Henry said without hesitation, and Bendy came leaping up to throw his arms around Henry’s neck.

Joey stood on the outskirts of this tender scene, enjoying it.

Then Heidi spoke up, “It’s you, Uncle Joey!” She had come down to the plaza, and seeing her, Henry saw panic seize Joey. “I’ve been looking all over for you all this time—for ages and ages.” Heidi ran at him, and Joey backed away as if momentarily caught between wanting to run and staying in place.

He didn’t have long to hesitate before Heidi was there, hugging him.

“Found you,” Heidi said, squeezing him tightly. “I’ve finally caught you.”

Joey stood there, stiff for a moment, before carefully bringing his arms around and hugging her. Then, his brows furrowed in thought, he sighed and pulled her back a bit. “Heidi, I need to tell you that I am not the same Uncle Joey who was with you in the apartment. The one who first taught you hide-and-seek.”

“Oh, I know he wasn’t my real Uncle Joey.” Heidi giggled.

Joey was taken aback by her response. “I am afraid you might be mistaken.”

“I’m not mistaken. That one didn’t want me, you see,” Heidi said, shrugging her shoulders. “But you did. That’s how I knew you were my real Uncle Joey.” She dug in her bag and pulled out a letter. “'Make sure you get a good night’s sleep and don’t spend all night playing with your toys. The Keepers are in your area, and they get suspicious if they hear anything too loud, so try to keep it down. Love, J.D.’” Heidi read aloud. “Pretty clear, don’t you think?”

The response snapped something in Joey. Henry could visualize the metaphorical script that Joey had always kept to slipping from his hold, at least for now, as something very close to gratitude took its place.

***

After all the commotion they had been through to reach that point, Henry wasn’t sure what to expect when they traveled together by the passageway to the Film Vault. Thankfully, they did find The End Reel in the same box and in the same place as Henry had searched for it countless past Cycles, but what he hadn’t expected was to see several shelves of boxes crammed with other film reels.

He lifted The End Reel, knowing they would need to put it in a safe place. “I guess we can’t simply break it?” Henry glanced at Joey, who shook his head.

“Unfortunately, Henry, that reel may reset Cycles, but it is also part of the very fabric of The Studio. I am afraid we won’t be able to get rid of it that easily.”

“Believe me, I tried,” Inky grumbled from the bowtie mirror. “Every time I took that reel from the box, I tried to destroy it but couldn't. It was annoying.” He growled.

“I don’t remember all these other reels of film.” Henry looked around.

Inky huffed. “Just because I could not destroy The End Reel did not mean I couldn’t destroy others. No one wanted them anyway.”

“Not this time.”

They all turned. Joey cleared his throat in what Henry noticed was actual embarrassment. “These film reels contain cartoon clips and more that it would be valuable to hold onto, and I—” He glanced at Heidi, who giggled softly, “—I would like to keep them safe, although this place might not be the best for them anymore.”

Henry smiled. “I’m sure they would be a welcomed addition over at the Ink Harmony Park Theater.” As he watched Joey going through the reels and describing the contents available on each reel with such enthusiasm, Henry couldn't help but think of the way that more than one thing had been found during this trip.

Bendy took his hand and squeezed it.

And Henry smiled down at his son.

Chapter Text

Gaining Henry as an official parent animated Bendy in a whole new way. The little guy had an extra spring in his step and was constantly grinning. Audrey hadn’t seen him this happy since their visit to FAO Schwarz, reputedly the oldest toy store in New York.

Of course, Audrey was happy for him as well, even while grappling with several realizations of her own. The last thing she had expected when going to pick up Bendy and Inky from The Ink World was to have Heidi come running to embrace her “Little Sister,” and she had listened in a daze as Joey Drew had taken her aside and explained how her father had left Heidi in The Ink World for all these years.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Audrey had asked him, knowing her voice sounded strange and faraway.

Joey had laid a hand on her shoulder. “It was my fault, Audrey. I believed such a reunion was lost to us, and that it was one thing which even a new Cycle couldn’t fix.” His smile was peaceful and relieved. “I understand it might take a while to gather your thoughts and feelings, but I’ll be here if you need to just… talk.”

Audrey had appreciated the gesture. Still, taking a while to gather her thoughts and feelings was an understatement, especially when other extraordinary details had come her way. One of them had been the reason why Henry and Joey had made a trip down through Lost Harbor in the first place—to secure The End reel, which they were still deciding on the best place to hide for the foreseeable future.

A showing of old Bendy cartoons found in the Film Vault and projected onto the basement wall with a regular projector hadn’t fully soothed her nerves, although the wonder clear on Bendy’s face had made her laugh. Even Inky didn’t complain. He had been quiet and pensive the whole time.

Thinking back on the whole evening, while she made pancakes a few mornings later, Audrey still found herself unable to absorb everything. Instead, she tried to concentrate on Bendy as he gushed about the sketch work his dad had encouraged him to do using models from The Real World. A few times, she had already glanced over her shoulder to enjoy the pictures Bendy had drawn showing parts of their apartment, including the bedroom.

But then Inky had snapped at Bendy to let Audrey cook, so Bendy had swiftly apologized and switched over to playing with a yo-yo given to him as a gift by Heidi. Things had quieted down in the minutes since then, albeit not in her head.

What also didn’t help was having the memory haunt her of the truck driving by with the strange Gent worker. Nothing had happened, and it had only been that one incident, but for some reason Audrey had gotten the frightening impression they had narrowly avoided a very dangerous situation. It had made her jumpier on the way back and forth from Archgate Films, a fact that hadn’t been lost on Marge and Andrew—who tried to soothe her fears by focusing on other subjects such as story ideas for the animated movie they were going to produce, and how wonderful the party was going to be along Broadway.

“We’ll need to go and buy special outfits for the occasion,” Marge had insisted. “Ooh, Macy’s is having some sales right now, and of course we can find something cute for Bendy to wear as well.”

Audrey appreciated how much her friends were trying to lift her spirits, but she was fine. Really, she was perfectly fine. Everything was going well. There was nothing she could truly complain about.

So why did she still feel unsettled?

“Pay attention! You’re burning breakfast again,” Inky snapped from the mirror above the kitchen table, and Audrey jerked back into the present moment.

“Oops!” She pulled the pan away from the burners on the stove, and then sighed. Thankfully, Inky had caught her before any food casualties. “Sorry about that.”

Bendy tucked the yo-yo into his pocket and came over. “Was I distracting you with my yo-yo?” he asked, looking worried. “I didn’t mean to make so much noise when I did ‘around the world.’”

Truth to tell, Audrey hadn’t even noticed the noise. She hadn’t even heard if Inky had growled at Bendy about flinging the end of the yo-yo around.

Her eyes slid over to Inky, who she realized was studying her. Quickly looking away, Audrey managed to smile and stroked Bendy between his small horns. “Oh, no. Of course not. You’ll get better at the yo-yo with enough practice. Don’t you think so, Inky?”

Inky gazed at her for another moment longer in silence before rasping, “At his current rate of success, Bendy will soon turn that yo-yo into an effective weapon.”

Bendy frowned. “Heidi called it an ‘entertaining toy for anyone to watch.’”

“In your hands, it is a fast-paced projectile,” Inky insisted, “which I will not deny brings a certain amount of entertainment. Make sure you give Tom and Joey a demonstration of it the next time we visit our other realm. I am sure it will be a big hit with them.”

“Inky…” Audrey warned.

“Henry said the theater will open shortly,” Inky continued. “He asked if there were any last-minute details we wanted to include.”

This sudden shift in the discussion was surprising, or maybe Inky was simply trying to be more careful about what he said around Bendy. Then again, Inky continued to watch her with that same studying look. He had been much quieter since their last trip to The Ink World, which was worrisome, but whenever Audrey asked if anything was wrong, he would grumble that everything was fine.

A little like her, perhaps.

Audrey thought about it. “Well, from what I saw in the sketch book, the Ink Harmony Community Theater looks wonderful inside and out. But maybe we could include an exhibition room.”

Bendy’s eyes sparkled in excitement. “Just like at Archgate Films?”

“Yes. We can put up old cartoon posters, and other artifacts for visitors to enjoy. Maybe we could put in some of your pictures.” Audrey smiled at Bendy, whose eyes and grin widened at the thought of it.

“I want some stuff from Animation Alley,” Inky declared. “A few pictures and other things.”

Audrey paused, rewinding her memories back to the last time she had crept through Animation Alley. It was among the first places she had navigated during her initial trip into The Ink Machine, back when The Ink World was a far more frightening and violent place. There had been pits in the floor to flow across, air shafts to crawl through, and sketches to retrieve.

Even now, there were probably several dangers lurking there, as had apparently been the case down in Lost Harbor. As such, Audrey suggested, “Could you tell me what stuff you’re talking about? Maybe I can find them in the sketch book and replicate them in the exhibition room.”

“No, we will need to visit Animation Alley ourselves,” Inky rasped. “This is your day off, right? So, we can go there right after breakfast.” There was an odd insistence to his tone that Audrey suspected hinted at something else. Something he refused to tell her.

They gazed at each other for several seconds before Audrey relented. “All right, then. I guess we can take another trip to The Ink World this week.” Following breakfast, she headed into the bathroom to freshen up, and to simply take a few deep breaths. When Audrey returned, she caught sight of Bendy leaning close to the mirror as if he and Inky were having some kind of hushed discussion. But the two of them immediately broke apart upon sighting her.

Very suspicious.

Bendy quickly slipped into his disguise. “Don’t worry, Audrey,” he said, taking her hand. “I’ll protect you on the way there no matter what!”

Inky groaned and placed a clawed hand across his face, as if in exasperation.

***

Thankfully, their stroll over to the studio was uneventful, although Audrey did a doubletake at sighting an old truck that apparently belonged to a moving company, Gray Movers. She tried to keep herself composed as Bendy tugged her along the street.

Inky and Bendy had a plan of some sort, but they were keeping it to themselves. Perhaps there was something in Animation Alley that Inky thought Audrey would like to see, even though she couldn’t recall anything too extraordinary in terms of the actual objects. Or, at least, nothing that hadn’t been present elsewhere in The Studio or on the upper floors.

Well, it was indeed her day off, and coming along for the ride really meant a lot to Inky and Bendy, so Audrey tried to go with the flow.

When they reached the exhibition room, Audrey expected to slip into The Ink Machine and for them to enter the manor as usual, but Inky stopped her. “Tell Wandering to let us out on the First Floor.”

“The First Floor? But from what I can tell, that is a long way from Animation Alley,” Audrey said.

“Precisely. Do it.”

Even though Inky was being confusing, Audrey patted The Ink Machine and said, “Good morning, Wandering. Could you please let us out on the First Floor this time, instead of down at the manor?” The nozzle at the front of the machine jiggled as if in confirmation, with Bendy gripping her hand, they slipped off to The Ink World.

***

It had been a while since Audrey had stepped foot onto the first floor, where Henry had written so many of their earlier exchanges. The place was cleaner, of course, with Tom and the others having patched up many of the cracks in the wood and leaky pipes amid its renovations.

After tugging her into the front room, Bendy released her hand.

“All right, what are you two really up to?” Audrey asked with a smile. “Are we even going to Animation Alley?”

“Yep!” Bendy looked especially cheerful. “You and Inky are going to have a lot of fun!”

Huh?

As Bendy grinned and waved, there came the familiar eruption of ink that gave way to the full form of Inky standing before her.

“Well, what now?” Audrey asked.

“Get on my back,” Inky rumbled, lowering himself to the floor to make it easier for her. “We are going for a ride.”

Audrey climbed onto Inky’s back and held onto him around the neck. “Okay, I’m ready. Now can you tell me where we are—oh!”

Inky took off running, nice long, swift strides. It was like the initial launch of a rollercoaster, with a grand burst of speed that made Audrey gasp and hold onto Inky tighter. They turned a corner and seemed to fly down the steps into the cleaned-out breakroom, heading for a large crack left in the corner. Right into the darkness.

In shock and surprise, Audrey cried out as the coolness of The Ink washed over them, only to blink in astonishment as they came hurtling through another massive dark crack on another floor entirely. This one brought them along winding hallways, down a flight of steps, through a room with some kind of ritualistic runes drawn onto the floor, and off past a huge sign for a music department.

“I’ve never seen this section of The Ink World before!” Audrey called.

Inky sniggered. “These sections are reminiscent of Joey Drew Studios.” His voice echoed from everywhere.

“The actual Joey Drew Studios, you mean.”

“Yes.”

They turned down a set of stairs and rushed along a long corridor, towards what appeared to be a dead end except that there was another dark crack in the wall. Inky went for it, and this time Audrey was ready for the coolness. They popped out on another floor with even more winding hallways.

Despite her initial astonishment at the sudden ride, Audrey found herself smiling. There was something exhilarating about moving around The Ink World beyond those pockets of it they had made safe and secure. But, then again, clinging to Inky as he navigated one hallway after another, she was arguably in the safest place possible.

Audrey laughed aloud, and soon Inky joined her with guffaws that rang throughout the halls. Butcher Gang members unfortunate enough to be milling around nearby instantly melted in their wake, and the few Lost Ones they did come across were able to jump out of the way.

They burst along another corridor, towards a set of signs that designated two different paths—The Angel and The Demon.

Without the least hesitation, Inky turned down the path of The Demon. “For years upon years, I had free reign to roam these hallways with impunity and without hindrance. Henry might say he held his own against me, but he never stood a chance. No one could.” There was great pride in Inky’s voice as they swept through a workshop filled with plush toy versions of Bendy, Boris, and Alice Angel—The Heavenly Toys workshop. “I rankled under the knowledge that I was ensnared in this world by Joey Drew and Gent and forced to play through the same Cycle of events, but it was still my world. I came to know every single inch of it, and that knowledge proved useful to me, even as it exhausted and maddened me. I was no longer trapped in a small cell in the real Joey Drew Studios, but I was still in a cage. One cage after another!”

Now undisguised fury twinged the pride, although Audrey could hear faint gurgling and wheezing as well. As they shot through another dark crack in the wall and began rocketing down a stairwell, Inky roared aloud, “Wandering, show her the words!” And Audrey read the words on the wall as they, which strung together read, “Be kind to people you meet on the way up because you’re going to meet the same people on the way down.”

“Kindness was unknown to me. An ironic joke. I was a true monster then. Perceived as a twisted version of a cartoon character,” Inky hissed out in-between a rapid succession of dark cracks in walls, where all Audrey could do was hang on as tightly as possible and listen. “All who had known me rightly feared I would tear them apart, because I knew they would tear me apart if they had the ability and had the opportunity. To Henry’s credit, he preferred to run and use other means to thwart me, rather than use any sharp weapons on me. Even though I couldn’t feel them anyway. I was as cold and numb as The Ink itself.”

In a blink of an eye, they were going through another room with a large ink fountain in it. Audrey recognized this room. She had scavenged through the crates and cabinets, and Allison had approached her for the first time, offering guidance when Audrey had felt so terrified and alone.

“Then Wilson and his Keepers invaded my world,” Inky spat the names with more venom than Audrey had heard him use in a while, even if it was warranted. The mere thought of them filled her with revulsion as well. “They came with their signal towers and managed to subdue me, even though I was still too strong and formidable for them to kill.”

Audrey could remember having come across a tape recording, which described the experiments done on Inky when Wilson and the Keepers had sought to subdue and had compressed and sealed him within the “harmless” form of Bendy. The recording had talked about torturous experiments inflicted on Bendy and Inky by them.

For Inky, it really must have felt like Bendy was just another prison he had been forced into against his will. At least back then. Audrey squeezed Inky a bit tighter as he scaled a stone wall in one great leap and made for another dark crack in the wall.

They passed along a corridor that Audrey remembered all too well, with a matt on the floor.

It had been where she had come across Bendy playing with his train.

This trip into The Ink World wasn’t going quite as she had expected so far. Audrey had the impression that Inky was letting all his thoughts flow out into the open amid these hallways that he had traversed so many times.

By why now, Audrey wondered, even as she recalled once again noted how quiet and withdrawn Inky had been over the last several days. Maybe Inky believed that he could best release whatever thoughts were on his mind here.

They passed through another hallway, through yet another dark crack, and came spurting out into Artist’s Rest, a place apparently designed after, as Inky growled aloud with a bitter snigger, an actual place at Joey Drew Studios where employees could sleep and rest—except it was more like an excuse to push the employees to work even harder than ever before, and to keep them trapped at their workplace.

Rushing along a corridor, Inky ducked through an opening in a grated wall, where a door stood in front of them with “Animation Alley” written in huge letters above the archway. Inky slowed as they approached that section of The Studio, which slid open into a room where windows showed rooms meant to showcase different parts of the animation process. In one of them, what appeared to be a wooden mannequin hanging by a rope from his neck was a silent testament to the atrocities the employees had gone through at Joey Drew Studios.

Audrey remained quiet as they moved at a slower pace through another dark crack and came into a room near a short, metallic corridor, where she had once needed to pull a lever to open the door.

Finally, Inky spoke again, “Then you came, Audrey. You stirred The Dark Puddles into awareness and released me from Bendy. The Dark Puddles whispered things about you to me. I considered you another intruder into my realm who could cause me harm.”

Audrey slid off his back and stepped gingerly into the short, metal corridor. She turned to gaze at him framed in the passageway. “This place… is where we met for the first time. Or, at least, when I saw you.”

“Even though I had been watching you since your first encounter with Bendy.”

“Inky, what is all this about?” Audrey asked. “You’ve been acting weird lately, and it’s been worrying me. You don’t need to bottle up anything. We’re family. We should help each other to work through—”

“I understand those facts perfectly well, Audrey! Why do you think I was pouring out my story to you?” Inky snapped. There was a certain quiver in his voice that made Audrey fall silent.

She stepped forward and cupped one hand around his cheek. “But that wasn’t your whole story,” Audrey murmured.

“I understand that fact too,” Inky gurgled gently. “I have been thinking of what has followed that part of my story. In other words, these past months of what have felt like an actual life.”

“Is that the reason you’ve been so quiet?”

“It has taken me a while to collect my thoughts.”

Oh. Audrey knew that feeling, and then realized why Inky had wanted to take this trip with her. Because Inky knew Audrey was going through the same thing as he was—trying to process what felt like an impossible number of life-changing events. She knew Bendy was quietly watching and listening to their exchanges as well, but he was trying to give her and Inky some privacy to work through their situations together.

Inky rasped, “What are the reasons you have been so quiet?” He reached out a clawed hand and laid it atop her head, gently. Audrey was strangely reminded of whenever she had comforted Bendy by stroking him between the horns.

She felt something break a little inside her. “I…” Audrey murmured, and now the quaver she had heard briefly in Inky’s voice seemed to have been transferred to her instead, “I am still trying to work it out.”

“I figured as much,” Inky rasped, “so I have a little challenge for you. Let’s play a little game of hide-and-seek.” His grimace widened. "We'll see how far we have come since our first meeting here."

Chapter Text

Inky flexed his skeletal claws. “Our game will involve gathering five sketches in the area beyond that sealed door.” He nodded at the one just behind Audrey. “You know which ones I mean.”

“I do.” Audrey had collected them amid her first journey into The Ink Machine, so a Lost One would unlock a door she needed to get past. The Lost One had mistaken her for someone named Phil—who may or may not have been a friend to him—and had insisted on having the sketches returned. She could still see each one clearly in her mind’s eye.

Of course, if the sketches were still where they had been placed during the last Cycle, Audrey couldn’t help but wonder if the same Lost One was still behind the same locked door that warned everyone not to knock on it. Even though that was exactly what she had been forced to do.

“Good.” Inky sniggered softly. “You will try to gather the sketches, and I will try to catch you in the process—just like last time.”

Audrey smiled. “It won’t be just like last time, though.” Because this time, she knew, Audrey would only worry about being caught by Inky for the sake of the game, rather than in fear of her life. Because she understood and cared deeply for him now. They were family. Acknowledged siblings.

“True,” Inky leaned in closer until their faces were inches apart, “I know you much better nowadays and will likely catch you.” His grimace widened. “I had countless Cycles to learn all of Henry’s tricks as he ran around this realm, but I have had months of close observation in this and the other realm to learn all of yours.”

“Oh, really?”

“I won’t go easy on you.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Audrey replied.

Inky observed her for a long moment. “That unwavering confidence. That defiance. How easily you manage it now before me. I almost thought you had forgotten it. But what would you say if there would be a penalty if I caught you?” The passageway around them darkened as inky tendrils moved across the walls.

Audrey frowned. “What sort of penalty?” There was an odd oppression in the atmosphere suddenly, and she hesitated.

“Oh, I would get to choose,” Inky sniggered again. “What fun is a game of this sort if something doesn’t hang in the balance? It adds a certain thrill to the whole thing.”

“Very well, but if I win, I get a reward.”

“What reward would that be?” His amusement was palpable, even as the darkness continued to press in on all sides.

Audrey crossed her arms and ignored the slight chill in the air. “I would get to choose. It is only fair.”

“Fine. Open the door.”

“All right.” Audrey turned and yanked at the lever set into the wall. It had taken a lot of effort to pull last time she was here, and it took just as much effort this time. The darkness disappeared from the walls as the sealed, metal door creaked open, and Audrey didn’t need to glance over her shoulder to know that the passageway behind her was empty. Inky had slipped into the wall.

Taking a deep breath in readiness, Audrey entered the room.

Well, let the game begin, she thought.

***

The room Audrey entered was familiar with crates set over on their sides and along the floor. One pleasant change was the lack of a Lost One dangling from the ceiling with a sack covering the head, and she could only hope that victim was living happily elsewhere in this Cycle. A work desk pushed against another wall bore the first sketch she needed, this one of a human face dripping with ink.

She picked it up.

“You have been more distracted than usual, Audrey. You are troubled.”

Audrey whirled about, searching the room for any signs of Inky. There hadn’t been any dark tendrils across the walls, or any other noticeable alterations in the scenery, but his voice had echoed throughout the room. She wouldn’t have put it past him, though, to try another trick to catch her.

His voice echoed out as she crept deeper into the maze of hallways. “You seem surprised. I spoke to you around this point last time as well, but you are even more guarded now than you were then.”

“I don’t mean to be,” Audrey said. “It’s just reflexive.”

“Such as your reaction to that truck?”

She froze, and at that moment, Inky came lurching out of a wall to reach out for her. Audrey ducked into a crate, and even though Inky could clearly see her huddled inside it, he failed to grab her.

Ah, so that was how it was going to be.

“Thomas Connor wasn’t driving it. Instead, it was his assistant. The same one we saw at Coney Island,” Audrey said. “There was something unnatural about him. It was as if he was following us.”

Inky snorted. “He was following us. I recognized the signs. I found him eerily familiar, and not just because of our close encounter on Coney Island.” He slipped into the wall again.

Audrey carefully left the crate and moved around a few bends head, into a room crowded by several animators’ desks. “Who did he remind you of?” she asked tremulously, heading towards a sketch of an inky figure dancing.

“You mean what he reminded me of,” Inky corrected. “You have your suspicions as well.”

“I…” Audrey trailed off, her hand hovering above the second sketch. “But there’s no way to be sure, is there? Even though it was Gent.” She grabbed the sketch, and the whole scene around her shifted to grayscale. There came the echoing sound of footsteps pounding closer at a rapid rate, and she dove for an opening in a cabinet.

Two sketches down. Three more to go.

“Trust your instincts!” Inky snarled, although Audrey didn’t see him as the scenery shifted back to normal.

“If those instincts are right, though,” Audrey shook her head, “the implications are too terrible. We swiped out all the Keepers that Wilson had in The Ink World.” She shivered. “If there is even one of them somehow in The Real World at Gent…”

“I loathe any traces of Wilson and his vile Keepers,” Inky growled from somewhere in the walls, as Audrey slipped out of her hiding place and headed for an opened grate into a ventilation shaft. “The thought of those pathetic mutations roaming in the other realm, with such freedom of movement, makes me want to tear them apart.”

Audrey considered his words as she turned corners and went up an incline. “Are you thinking about what will happen when Wandering has enough energy to grant your wish?” she asked, carefully setting the issue of possible Keepers off to one side. They had gotten the subject out into the open at least, so they could fully address it later.

“How do you feel about the fact that you have another sibling? A sister?” Inky asked instead.

Audrey decided to set an example by answering the question, even though Inky had blatantly avoided answering one directed at him. “I guess I should have known my father would have made other attempts to create ‘a family,’ besides the one that resulted in me. And Heidi is a remarkably nice person despite everything he put her through. Henry told me in our most recent exchange that Heidi is excited about having a little sister, little brother, and an older brother.” She smiled. “I plan to design her toyshop as a present.”

“You would earn her eternal loyalty for that,” Inky huffed.

“Henry also said Heidi has been helping Joey to move the film reels and other items from the Film Vault back to the mansion, and they plan to bring over most of them to Norman for the theater.”

“The End reel is what matters to me,” Inky grumbled.

Audrey reached a grate that overlooked a part of the area where the sketch of a one-eyed creature rested on a desk. “I guess they’re still reaching a decision on where to hide the reel. It must be somewhere no one will ever suspect or uncover by accident.” Then she said, “You still haven’t answered my question about your wish.”

Noting the extended silence, Audrey stuck her head out of the great and said, “Come on, Inky. You’re encouraging me to share what’s on my mind, and I want to do the same for you.” Then she added, “I’ll stay hidden in this shaft until you do.”

“Wandering has gathered a great deal of energy,” Inky replied. “When the community theater opens its doors, the resulting warmth might provide enough power for them to grant a major wish. A wish capable of altering the very nature of the attachment that Bendy and I share.”

“That’s wonderful. Then you might be able to have your wish granted after we attend the grand opening,” Audrey said, dropping to the floor below. “How about we throw a huge party at the manor to celebrate, and then we’ll come home and have a second, smaller celebration at home? You’ll be able to assume your full form without a problem.”

“In the confines of the apartment,” Inky rasped, “and then I must be careful not to draw attention if I emerge anywhere else. Given those realities, among other considerations, I have thought of changing my wish.”

“To what?” Audrey picked up the third sketch.

“To separate myself from Bendy, so that he can return to the other realm with you, while I stay here in this realm.”

The confession rippled through her. Audrey stiffened, turned, and shouted, “All right, I’m calling for a timeout!” Her voice whipped through Animation Alley. “Please come out here, Inky.”

“Timeouts were not a part of our game last time.”

“I don’t care about that. This time is different.” Audrey stood her ground, feeling whatever had broken a little inside her when Inky had patted her on the head break further. Her voice shook. “I’m waiting for you.”

After almost two minutes, Inky emerged from the wall and came to stand right in front of her again. “I have mulled over the subject, and it is the best path.”

“Why do you think that?” Audrey clutched the three sketches tightly, willing herself to stay calm.

“Here in this realm, I can roam freely, and I am more widely accepted than during past Cycles,” Inky gestured around them. “Lost Ones don’t flee from me as they once did, and we have friends.”

It felt like the world was trembling around her. “You want to live apart from Bendy and me?”

“No!” Inky burst out, then appeared to realize what he had said, before rasping in a quieter tone, “Of course not.”

Audrey took a deep breath to try and steady herself, and then stepped closer. “We’ll find ways for you to enjoy being in your full form back home, and you’ll otherwise stay safe as Bendy’s reflection. We’ll make it work because the three of us belong together. Perhaps we could go—”

“It is not so simple anymore,” Inky rasped.

“Why?”

Inky heaved a heavy sigh. “Audrey, when Bendy claimed Henry as his father, his happiness swelled, and I glimpsed his mind. He was imagining all the things he and Henry could do together, and my own consciousness strained towards that vision involuntarily. I needed to rein myself in, or else Bendy might have been affected by me. It was his moment, not mine. He did not even realize how close I came to being a potential problem.”

His words sunk in, and Audrey shuddered. When Bendy had recounted the whole experience back at the apartment, Inky had stayed largely silent. He must have been struggling and doing his best to hide those struggles.

“The two of you are too different,” Audrey said. “You said it yourself.”

“We have become closer, and I am—” He trailed off, gurgling, and wheezing gently. Audrey realized he was trying to compose himself before panic could set in fully.

Because that’s what she was seeing. Inky was afraid of losing himself, as he had been when they returned to The Ink World, and he was afraid of causing harm to those around him.

Audrey approached and hugged his face. “You are you, Inky. I know I’ve been worried about it too, but we’ll figure something out. You can’t just give up the life the three of us have together in The Real World, or all the memories we can make there.”

“It is all because you taught me kindness, you know,” Inky grumbled, clearly miserable. “I am making this decision for both of your sakes. Bendy can remain safe in his own mind, while I will retain my own mind and guard this realm. You, Audrey, made me care about such things. I was incapable of it before you came. Nothing mattered in a world where time constantly looped. It was a cage for me, but it has since turned into a tolerable hideaway.”

Audrey balled her hand into a fist. A hideaway, was it? She took a deep breath and passed Inky towards the chained and padlocked door that enclosed this section of the room. The last time she had gone for the sketch here, it had required a hard whack from a pipe to open.

“Would you mind opening this lock for me?” she asked in a quiet, little voice.

Inky sighed, turned about, and slashed through the chain in a swift movement that brought it clanking to the floor. After thanking him, Audrey creaked open the door and stepped past it. “You know, Inky, I may have shown you kindness, but you’re the one who accepted it. You let yourself care, and I can tell it has made you happier and stronger than ever. I’ve loved watching you grow in that way, and I want to continue watching you grow.” She swallowed. “You would give up so much for us, just to keep us safe. That takes a great deal of love.”

Silence. Inky had laid a claw across his face.

It was heartbreaking. “That’s why I refuse to let you give up that life with us, even though you’re scared,” Audrey announced. “It’s also why having you not make that wish to stay here without us will be the reward I’m going to demand. Thank you for making up my mind.” She slammed the door shut.

The claw came down at the proclamation. Inky blustered, “Audrey!”

“Time-in. I’ve got a game to win,” Audrey said. She waved a hand and took off running. The door, even if it had been locked, wouldn’t have presented a barrier for Inky. She knew that fact all too well. However, the move had shocked him and made for a distraction.

The scenery jerked into grayscale. “You act like I have an actual choice!” Inky raged.

“You always have a choice!” Audrey called back as she ducked into a crate, seconds before Inky appeared nearby, scowling down at her.

“Choices have consequences, Audrey. You are free to make them, but you must be aware of what will follow those decisions. If anything happens to me or Bendy, or if our mental state alters and we struggle dealing with it, that will leave you vulnerable.” Growling, he moved into a wall, and the scene shifted back to normality.

Audrey sprang from the crate and started to run again as the setting shifted again. He was really trying to catch her. “I am more worried about you two. It sounds like Gent wants you as much as they do the Ink Machine.” She dove through a grate into a ventilation shaft, sure that she felt the tips of Inky’s sharp claws brush her shoes.

Another shift.

“Even if they believe you are a normal human, they know you are involved with us,” Inky growled as Audrey moved through the shafts. “At least if Bendy is there, you will have another set of eyes for when, not if, Gent makes a move. Meanwhile, I would stay here to defend The Ink World.”

“The Ink World has other guardians as well,” Audrey argued. “You can have a life beyond that role.” In the back of her mind, she strained to remember the locations of the other two sketches. A recollection clicked into place, and she pushed through another grate into a room. She sprinted for a fourth sketch, this one of a weird, bandaged figure with a rooster-like comb atop the head. The scenery shifted again as she grabbed it and wedged herself into another crate.

Inky emerged from the wall, drumming his fingers on the floor and meeting her gaze.

Audrey stared back at him, unwavering.

“I know that look of yours well. You will not back down,” Inky rumbled.

“I won’t back down,” Audrey affirmed. “And I won’t let Gent or anything else break apart our family.”

After a long moment, Inky sniggered softly. “Sounds like you are focused and determined.”

“You bet I am,” Audrey said.

“There is one more sketch to go. Let’s see if you can reach it.” Inky continued to snigger as he slipped into the wall.

Audrey went running off at high speeds, and when another shift came, she managed to duck into the ventilation shaft until the settings reasserted themselves. Several turns and twists later, she spotted the desk with the sketch of something indescribable—perhaps a strange, potted plant—on it. The setting shifted, and she saw Inky come tearing out of the wall towards her. She Flowed forward and grabbed the sketch as, a second later, Inky barreled into her.

Everything went still, aside from Audrey panting on the floor, and Inky huffed as he stood above her. Then Audrey smiled and held up the sketches. “I win,” she said, flicking through them. “Wait until after our party on Broadway. That’ll give us time to think of the right wish together, and to make plans. Don’t stay here without us. In the meantime, you won’t lose yourself, Inky, because you’re too strong—and so is Bendy. You’ll both be fine.”

The part inside Audrey that had been breaking, little by little, completely collapsed at that point. Tears trickled down her cheeks. “Do you promise you won’t make that wish?” she asked.

Inky heaved a sigh. “You and Bendy put me in some very awkward and annoying situations,” he grumbled. Then, at last, “Fine. I promise I won’t wish to stay here in The Ink World, apart from you and Bendy. We will reach a consensus on the best wish to make—together.”

“Thank you.”

“Now stop crying. I cannot stand to see you cry.”

“All right,” Audrey chuckled, wiping at her eyes. “Deal.” She got up and hugged him.

“Yes, yes, I know. Love and everything,” Inky muttered in embarrassment. “And we got the sketches.”

“We did,” Audrey took a final steadying breath, and then released it. “There is one thing I want to find out, though.”

***

There came a knock on the door marked “Don’t Knock.”

A large peephole opened, and a Lost One looked out. “Is that you, Phil?”

Audrey shook her head. “My name is Audrey, and we wanted to ask you about these sketches.” She held them up. “Would you mind if we used them as part of—”

“Those are mine!” the Lost One shouted, indignant. “You can’t have them, Phil.” He threw open the door and charged at her, holding a wrench... until a clawed hand descended on his shoulder to stop him. The Lost One froze, and then looked up shakily at Inky.

“Would you care to actually listen to what Audrey has to say?” Inky asked. “You might even appreciate it.”

Encouraged by Inky, the Lost One listed to what Audrey had to say about the exhibition. He sounded genuinely flattered to have his work highlighted in such a significant way and even volunteered to spread the word about the grand opening of the Ink Harmony Park Community Theater.

***

Rather than head up to Ink Harmony Park themselves, Audrey went with Inky’s recommendation to slip the sketches through the wall to Wandering, so they could deliver them to the appropriate place.

Left in the quiet corridor deeper in The Studio, their feelings having all been laid out, a certain peace settled over them. “So, what now?” Audrey asked. She turned to Inky with a smile.

Inky gazed down the corridor, long and winding.

“How would you like to go for another ride?” Inky asked, already bending down. “Just for the sake of it?”

Audrey slipped onto his back. “I’d love to,” she said.

They took off again, laughing and guffawing, with minds and hearts much lighter than they had been before.

Chapter Text

Bendy stayed quiet during the trip to Animation Alley. The moment they slipped out of The Ink Machine, however, tears streamed down his cheeks and past a shaky smile. His disguise was unable to hide it, and since the exhibition room was vacant as usual, Audrey knelt to gently pull off his sunglasses and tug down his scarf—whereupon his smile collapsed like building blocks.

He hiccupped out, “I… thought… Inky said… you were just going… to have fun.”

Knowing the little guy meant to get across a lot more than just a certain lack of fun, Audrey tightly embraced him. “Everything is all right,” she soothed, deciding to address one of the biggest issues probably going through his mind right then. “We’re going to stay together. All of us. No matter what happens.”

“Inky… promised… right…?” Another hiccup.

“I did. I will not go back on my word, so stop crying,” Inky rasped from the bowtie mirror, without his usual gruffness.

“O… kay…” Bendy sniffled.

“See, Inky knows promises are important,” Audrey said, wiping the tears from his impish eyes with her thumbs until she remembered the perfectly good handkerchief in her pocket. “The trick will be coming up with the perfect wish to ask from Wandering. We’ll need to help Inky figure out what to do, all right?”

“All… right…”

After letting him calm down for a few more minutes, Audrey helped Bendy to get his disguise back in place and offered to give him a piggyback ride home—which Bendy accepted.

As they rode up in the elevator, Bendy asked, “Inky?”

“What?”

“How can we keep our minds apart? Does it mean that we have got to disagree or argue more?”

“It is not that simple. We have become closer and come to understand each other better. It is a natural occurrence.”

Bendy tapped a finger against his scarf in thought. “When we argued about my dad, it felt like we were far apart.”

“We were still close. If we weren’t, we would not have had an argument like that in the first place.”

“I like being close with you, Inky,” Bendy said. “Because we’re family.”

“Yes, so do I,” Inky rasped.

“But it’s hurting us too?”

As the elevator doors opened, Audrey sighed. “Like I told Inky, the two of you are your own individuals. If you both remember that fact, I know you’ll be okay until we figure out a solution.” In the privacy of her own thoughts, she felt betrayed by a sliver of doubt, but it was the best comfort she could think to give them. And maybe it would work, if Bendy and Inky believed hard enough that their minds would remain separate.

Then she heard squeaking sounds coming from nearby and froze. Bendy and Inky each perked up, matching her in alertness.

“Spooked me something dreadful, I can tell you,” Mrs. Fern had said. “But they passed as quickly as they came. I’ve heard stories about how big rats can get around here, and the way they can invade buildings and cause public health violations. I was even sure I heard squeaking.”

Somehow Audrey knew squeaking sounds were what Mrs. Fern had been talking about, coming from the walls. She had believed they were rats, and since then, Audrey could remember whispers being passed among other employees of possible plans to have an inspector come in and conduct a discreet inspection. But there was something wrong with these squeaks. They were too regular, and suspiciously deliberate.

“Trust your instincts,” Inky had told her back in Animation Alley, and her instincts were sending out numerous warning signals.

Audrey stepped up and pressed her ear to one of the walls, as did Bendy. She had thankfully never needed to deal with rats at the apartment, and didn’t have much experience with them in general, but it seemed odd not to hear any scrabbling of little claws or other noises to accompany the squeaks. Cautiously, she knocked on the wall, and the squeaking stopped.

Okay. Her suspicions had just skipped several inches closer to certainty.

She exchanged a quiet look with Bendy and Inky.

Then the squeaking noises moved away at a rapid pace. Audrey trailed after them, which she managed to do all the way to the foyer, where Mrs. Fern noticed her.

“Ah, you’re here again on your day off, Audrey?” she asked, shaking her head. “Goodness me, I guess I’d expect nothing less from a star employee, and you’ve even been bringing in your son.” Mrs. Fern, it seemed, had drawn her own conclusions from the brief glimpses she’d had of Bendy coming in with Audrey.

She waved at Bendy. “Hi there, sweetie!”

Bendy offered a wave of his gloved hand in return, and Mrs. Fern muttered, “precious thing,” before digging around in the small bowl set upon the front counter filled with various candies. She produced a lollipop.

“Here you go.” Mrs. Fern held it out.

Audrey nodded at Bendy, and he reached out to accept the candy. “Thank you,” he murmured, obviously feeling awkward in this situation.

“Any time, sweetie. Do you want to be an animator like your mom?”

Inky growled low in his throat. “She is wasting our time. I can’t even hear those squeaks anymore,” he grumbled.

He was right. Audrey strained to hear them, but the squeaks were completely gone. She felt a pinch of frustration but quickly stamped it down. After all, Mrs. Fern had no idea what was going on, or the slightest knowledge of the darker things that could be at work in the walls.

Even though, they needed to be on their way. “He’s already a great artist,” Audrey said quickly. “We should really be—”

“Oh, I’ll bet!” Mrs. Fern was in a talkative mood. Harvey must have been patrolling elsewhere in the building, so she had lost her usual conversation partner for a while. “I have an instinct for these things,” she persisted. “I was saying to Harvey only the other day…”

Bendy chose this moment to yawn very noticeably.

“Good idea,” Inky rasped in approval.

The tactic worked. “Oh, you’re tired, poor thing,” Mrs. Fern gasped. “Well, you’d better go along home.”

Audrey breathed an inner sigh of relief, wished Mrs. Fern a goodnight, and headed out into the twilight streets—just in time to see a Gent truck come lumbering past. This time, she didn’t run. She was in full view of Mrs. Fern at the front desk, and even if she hadn’t been, Audrey felt more than ready to stare down the driver, that possibly-Keeper assistant, and prove she wouldn’t let him, or it, intimidate her anymore.

Except it wasn’t the assistant behind the wheel. It was Thomas Connor, who appeared to have been in the middle of reprimanding someone in the back. The old man noticed Audrey glaring at him as the truck went past, and he gave her a hard stare in return. Audrey detected the slightest hints of confusion, but he kept going, and she watched until he had turned the street corner and out of sight.

Audrey frowned and strode for home. Anger flared within her. She had felt bad for Thomas Connor, even after their encounter at Coney Island. He had struck her as a sad, broken old man who had lost his wife and many other things because of his obsession with The Ink Machine. But it was also clear that he was up to something with Gent.

The next time she saw him, Audrey vowed, she was going to make him back off. Even though she was unclear exactly how to accomplish that goal. With such ideas swirling within her, they soon reached the apartment complex. Still feeling fired up by the fleeting exchange of stares, she stomped up the steps to their floor.

“Need to work off some fury, do you?” Inky sniggered softly. “I feel the same. Maybe if we could isolate him somehow, somewhere with a nice, large reflective surface, I could—”

“I don’t think he expected to see us,” Bendy spoke up as they walked along the hallway. “He looked surprised.”

Audrey paused and sighed. “Whatever he was up to, it was nothing good. I have a feeling Gent has something to do with the squeaking in the walls at Archgate Films.”

A door flung open. “Don’t you be saying such that dirty company’s name here in my apartment complex!” Mr. Ferguson stood on the threshold of his apartment, trembling with an anger all his own.

Audrey, Bendy, and even Inky stared at the old landlord in outright confusion.

“Which company’s name do you mean, Mr. Ferguson?” Audrey found herself murmuring, just to fill the sudden void.

“Why, Gent, of course!” Mr. Ferguson spat the name. “I can’t stand those good-for-nothing criminals. Don’t you go associating yourselves with the likes of them.”

Inky sniggered. “Ah, a kindred spirit of ours, I see.”

“We don’t care much for them either,” Audrey said. “But, er, you really seem to dislike them.”

“‘Dislike’ is too kind a word, and hatred wouldn’t even begin to cover my opinion of them,” Mr. Ferguson went on. “Gent are the ones who made my brother disappear!”

***

A short while later, they were in the living room of their apartment. Mr. Ferguson had navigated the city that Bendy had built on the floor and taken a seat on the couch. He made lighthearted remarks about the sketches hanging across the walls as Audrey prepared coffee.

“Are all of these your pictures, Benny?” Mr. Ferguson asked.

“Yep!” Bendy said.

“Your mom must have been giving you lessons.”

“I’ve seen Aud—” Bendy began, only to get interrupted by a hiss from Inky, “This old guy thinks you’re Audrey’s son. It will be suspicious if you say her name. Pay attention!” Then Bendy swallowed and began again, “I’ve seen her drawings, she’s very good at it, and sometimes she points out details to help me improve.” He paused, and then added with pride, “Oh, and I’ve gotten a lot of art lessons from my dad!”

“Don’t make things more complicated than they already are,” Inky growled.

“Oops.”

Mr. Ferguson raised an eyebrow, “Did you say your dad has been giving you lessons?”

Thank goodness, the coffee got done around this time, and Audrey came rushing into the living room carrying a hot cup of it. “Would you like some sugar or cream in your coffee?” she asked, interposing herself between Mr. Ferguson and Bendy. Just behind her, she heard Inky mutter, “Try to say as little as possible until the old man goes away, all right?”

Audrey took the silence for agreement on Bendy’s part.

Mr. Ferguson waved away the offers to doctor his coffee. “I prefer it straight and black. Keeps me awake longer, and at my age, I appreciate being able to stay aware for as long as possible each day. Even when unpleasant stuff from the past comes along.” He frowned, and Audrey sighed as she took a seat in the armchair beside the couch.

“I thought you said your brother worked for a bricklaying company,” Audrey said quietly. It was one of the things Mr. Ferguson had said again and again whenever he had mentioned his brother going missing. “You never said anything about Gent.”

“I didn’t?” Mr. Ferguson muttered, and then grunted. “Well, I’m not surprised at myself. I want to say their name as little as possible. For the sake of my explanation, and for the safety of you and little Benny there, I’ll tolerate it for a while, though.” He looked between them now, deadly serious. “That said, I’m also not surprised you didn’t guess I was referring to Gent in the first place. They’ve come a long way from their much humbler roots.”

“They were a bricklaying company?” Audrey asked.

Mr. Ferguson nodded. “Yep. They began out of Atlantic City, New Jersey, laying bricks and employing contractors from all over the place. Did a lot of good. My brother and I started with them when most kids nowadays are finishing up high school. Finances were tight, and it was more common than you might realize back then for kids to drop out of school just to help their families make ends meet. The founder was an older man who lived down the street from us. Gave a lot of us younger workers jobs. He knew how hard times were, then.”

A wistful look crossed his face. “His real name was Mr. Gent, hence the name of the company, but we nicknamed him “Mr. Driver” because of how hard we had to work for him. But he was fair enough.” Mr. Ferguson tapped his head. He chuckled, and then frowned again. “Things were good for us over the course of several years, and business was booming, until Alan Gray came around and offered to buy up the business. Mr. Gent told us there was no way he would sell, so it was a surprise when he reportedly did and moved away suddenly. At least, that’s what we heard from our new ‘CEO.’”

Audrey could practically see all the speculations passing before the old landlord’s inner eye of all the things Alan Gray might have done to get ahold of the company.

“Anyway,” Mr. Ferguson continued, “once Alan Gray became the head of Gent, he made changes. A lot of changes. We went from a bricklaying company to doing engineering and other work. Selling all types of power tools, advertising countrywide, and all other sorts of nonsense. And suddenly it wasn’t good enough to have been with the business and loyal for all those years. He laid heaps of us off and took on other workers without much in the way of pensions or even references, including me and my brother.”

Audrey hadn’t taken a sip from her mug, and Bendy had climbed onto the armchair beside her and was hugging her arm. Inky was silent.

Mr. Ferguson sipped from his coffee and gazed into the past. “Well, we moved on, went into other work, and managed to make our way in the world. My brother was the optimist and idealist who surprisingly managed to keep my spirit just above water, you might say. I was the more pessimistic one between us. Then we wound up here in New York City. Ah.” He paused, looking at his empty cup. “I could use a refill, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Audrey didn’t mind. She refilled his cup and waited while he took a deep gulp of caffeine.

“We were both older then, and my brother, I’m sorry to say, was suffering a bit from memory loss. He would get confused about things. I used to worry it might be a sign of something more serious, especially since he had taken a job down in the New York sewer systems. Really loved the adventure and exploration of doing it…” Mr. Ferguson trailed off, heaving a heavy sigh. He shook his head. “The thing is, we heard that not only was Gent becoming a bigger presence in the city, but Alan Gray was nearby. And then we started to hear about the disappearances.”

He paused for such a long period of time at this point that Audrey began to ask, “Are you okay?” only to have Mr. Ferguson wave her down and mutter, “Just give me a minute.”

At last, he pressed on, “The thing is, my brother got agitated by the news. He was certain that Alan Gray was responsible for the disappearances, just as he blamed him for whatever had befallen our first boss. So, one day, my brother went to see him for some reason I've never been able to guess, aside from some possible mental confusion. He left me a note saying he was off to ask about Mr. Gent.” Mr. Ferguson took a deep breath. “He never came back.”

He leaned back on the couch, staring at the ceiling and looking much older than Audrey had ever seen him look before. Bendy squeezed Audrey tighter, and she pulled him and Inky closer.

“You believe something happened to him at Gent,” Audrey said.

Mr. Ferguson sighed. “I know they were responsible. The pair of us, we were twins. It probably sounds peculiar to you, but when siblings are as close as we were, it was as if we had the ability to sense each other instinctively. Love hurts, sometimes.”

“You have no idea, old man,” Inky rasped.

“Anyhow, my one shame is that back then, I knew what had happened, but I got too scared to confront Alan Gray.” Mr. Ferguson moaned softly. “I suspected, like just my brother, that Alan Gray had been behind the disappearances. But Gent was a big company and considered reputable in the press. They were even working with Joey Drew Studios at the time. Someone like me, I thought, would get made a mockery of by them, or worse.” He laid a hand across his face. “I still hear my brother’s voice sometimes. ‘Don’t look so sad, Bobby. Where one door closes, another one opens.’”

“‘Bobby,’” Audrey asked, amid a sudden sinking feeling in her stomach.

“Short for Robert,” Mr. Ferguson replied. “He loved giving nicknames to folks he liked, when he thought it would help them relax or loosen up a little. Or whenever he thought they were appropriate. It was hard to tell with him sometimes.” The memory made him laugh.

Bendy gazed up at Audrey, and then back at Mr. Ferguson. “Did you have a nickname for him too?” he asked.

“Oh, I was never good at nicknames. Didn’t have the knack for it, you see. We may have looked similar on the outside, but inside we were quite different. But for his sake, I did call him ‘Port.’”

Audrey bit her lower lip, then asked, “Short for Porter?”

Mr. Ferguson straightened and looked at her. “Lucky guess. Porter isn’t exactly the most common name around.”

It hadn’t been a lucky guess at all, and Audrey felt a little sicker at the confirmation, but she managed a smile. “Yeah, lucky guess,” she said.

“Anyhow, where was I going with this?” Mr. Ferguson thought, his head tilted slightly—until fierce resolution entered his expression. “Oh, right.” He pointed a warning finger at them. “Heed my story well. Stay away from Gent if you want to live full and fulfilling lives, do you hear me? I already lost my brother. I don’t want to lose tenants such as yourselves.” At this point, he noticed the clock and creaked to his feet. “I’d better be going. Don’t want to drag the rest of your evening down.”

Bendy slipped off the armchair, ran over to him, and grabbed his hand. “Want to play some checkers first?” he asked.

***

Mr. Ferguson left in what was clearly a lighter mood after a few rounds of checkers, and Audrey had managed to settle her nerves a little before tucking Bendy and Inky into bed. Then she went to her desk and opened the sketch book. There were several things to share with Henry, after all, from her intention to include an exhibition room for the community theater, to the toy shop for Heidi, to what Mr. Ferguson had told them.

As she started to write a short greeting to him, Bendy said, “Audrey?”

“Yes?”

“Mr. Ferguson and his brother were kind of like me and Inky, weren’t they?”

It was a question Audrey hadn’t expected, but out of all the things Bendy could have asked right then, it made her smile a little. “Yes, I suppose they were.”

“They weren’t like us,” Inky grumbled. “They had their own bodies.”

“They would have resembled each other as twins,” Audrey said. “But they were different on the inside, their own individuals.” She gazed between Bendy and the bowtie mirror, where Inky gazed out in pensive silence.

Bendy grinned. “I like that thought.” He laid back. “Goodnight, Audrey.”

“Good night, Bendy. Good night, Inky.”

“Good night,” Inky rasped.

Feeling encouraged by their reactions, Audrey threw herself into what lay right in front of her.

Chapter Text

It was another sunny afternoon in Ink Harmony Park. Crowds of Lost Ones in numerous shades of paint and attired in various accessories were simply enjoying the day, while the businesses spread around the central plaza bustled with activity. The Ink Harmony Community Theater had a huge sign above the front archway to indicate its grand opening was less than three days away, but the front door was slightly open to admit Henry and the others as they entered with boxes full of film reels for the archives.

The lobby, like the rest of the theater, was a sight to behold. From the front counter to the framed movie posters on the walls, the entire place had the polished look and fragrance of a new enterprise just ready to get underway. At least, Henry had heard Joey praise it as such during one trip to bring what seemed an inexhaustible supply of things to watch.

They would set the boxes down near the base of the carpeted stairs that wound upwards to the second floor, so Norman could go through them first to see which ones he wanted to bring to the projector room. The projectionist—who had swiftly turned into the de facto manager for the theater as well—lifted each one up to his lens for careful examination. Meanwhile, Joey would pull back the hood and took off the mask he would wear during each trip to reach the theater unobserved, and then explain the contents of each reel as written down in his extensive notes.

Henry watched in pleased bewilderment as Joey discussed the materials with Norman. Even since they had gone to retrieve The End reel together, Joey was like a whole new person. Or, at least, it was like some chains had dropped from around his very soul, and he had thrown himself into what Henry could only describe as a “full archivist mode.” What helped, perhaps, was having Heidi around to remind Joey of his own individuality. The memories he was making with her as his daughter were all his own, and the interesting thing was that Henry found he was beginning to think of the Joey Drew from outside The Ink Machine as resembling his friend Joey from here in the Studio, rather than the other way around.

Time could change a lot of things, he guessed.

Wandering sat perched on the edge of the front counter, swinging their legs slowly with a dreamy expression. They appeared ready to fall asleep at any moment, and Henry had already needed to catch them a few times before they could tumble off and onto the wooden floor below.

“You could go lay down in the lounge upstairs for a while, Wandering,” Henry suggested. “I’m sure Norman wouldn’t mind.”

Wandering shook their head slowly. “We want to observe everyone enjoying themselves.”

Then the front door crashed open, making all of them jump and turn. Norman almost dropped the film reel in his hands.

“I won the race,” Inky exclaimed. He had kicked the door open with one hooved foot, loaded down with two large boxes of reels. “Now you must acknowledge my prowess.”

Heidi stepped around him and into the lobby. “Oh, you were very fast. You were just ahead of me,” she giggled. “Good job!”

“Just ahead of you? More like a mile.” Inky was indignant.

Henry, meanwhile, was looking at the opened door thrown open with such force that it had become implanted in the wall. Little cracks were visible, and from the corner of his eye, he noticed Joey and Norman wincing. He sighed and approached Inky. “Hey, I’m glad you are having a good time in helping to carry the films over, but try to be more careful, all right, Inky?”

From the bowtie mirror, Bendy gasped at the cracks around the door and said, “Oops. Sorry, Dad.”

Meanwhile, Inky simply snorted. “Those are simple scratches, really.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Wandering, fix the wall!”

“Wait a minute, Wandering.” Henry laid a hand on their shoulder, before turning to Inky. “Isn’t there something you’ve forgotten, Inky?”

A low growl echoed around the lobby. “Don’t talk to me like that, Henry,” Inky grumbled, dropping the boxes with a harsh thump onto the floor.

“Like what?” Henry crossed his arms, which only seemed to agitate Inky further.

“Like you would now if Bendy misbehaved or caused trouble. As if you were disciplining me.”

Bendy chose this tense moment to speak up. “Um… Inky, what does disciplining mean?” Apparently, he had yet to hear that specific term.

“For the sake of this argument and our sanity,” Inky huffed, “it means Henry is being a parent at me.”

“Oh.”

Henry sighed. “The only thing I wanted to do was point out you could at least say ‘please’ when asking Wandering to fix the wall.” When Inky snorted in disbelief, Henry stressed, “I would say the same thing to anyone in this type of situation. Because it’s right.”

“Hmph. You are doing it again. I don’t have to stand for it.” With that said, Inky gave way to Bendy, while Wandering repaired the wall because, as they reasoned, “It had been a minute.”

“We’ll be more careful next time, Dad,” Bendy said, twiddling his thumbs. “I promise.”

Smiling, Henry knelt in front of the imp. “Of course, you would. You and Inky have done a great job helping us to bring the film reels here, but—” He gave Bendy a conspiratorial smile, “—there is another way you could really help out, if you feel up for it.”

Bendy brightened. “What’s that?”

Henry pointed to the section which led off from the lobby. “Audrey put in the exhibition room the other evening, and you can see there are already a few things on display.” From their perspective, in fact, it was possible to glimpse a few of the sketches gathered from Animation Alley. “I’d planned to ask for contributions from the businessowners around the plaza as well, but you know how busy we’ve been with the reels. So, maybe you would do it for me?”

A huge smile spread across Bendy’s face. “You can count on me, Dad!” He saluted, and Henry saluted him back as Bendy went rushing off.

Heidi giggled. “So lively. As expected from our family.” Having easily embraced her newfound connections with everyone, she spoke with great pride.

“Can you check those reels, Heidi?” Joey asked. The pained expression on his face spoke volumes. Images of unspooled film reels were probably twisting before his mind’s eye.

“Sure thing, Uncle Joey!”

Henry gazed out after Bendy, his smile faltering for a moment. Bendy and Inky were once again spending the day in The Studio while Audrey worked, but despite when Audrey had told Henry about the past couple of days, they seemed the same as always, if not more enthusiastic than usual with the preparations almost complete for the community theater.

Then again, Inky had been touchier around him since Henry had wholeheartedly accepted Bendy as his son.

Well, maybe a laidback afternoon would help.

***

Their first stop was at The Tasty Pizza. Buddy jerked in shock when Bendy hopped up, clung to the front counter near where he was cleaning glasses, and asked if he or Dot had anything to put in the exhibition room.

Dot was the fastest one between them to recover. “If you want to stick something from The Tasty Pizza there, we could give you one of Buddy’s chef hats. You know, we might as well advertise while we’re at it. Oh, really, Buddy!” she said at seeing Buddy hug his chest hat to his chest and whine. “You have a ton of those hats, and I know you wouldn’t want them to have your clarinet.”

“You play the clarinet?” Bendy asked Buddy.

The cartoon wolf nodded, managing a small smile. Being around Bendy still apparently put him a little on-edge. But then a thought appeared to strike him. He ducked behind the counter, and there came the sounds of him rummaging through various items. When he popped up again, it was with a small sign that highlighted the Ultra-Mega Pizza Deluxe option from their menu. He slid it across the counter.

“I suppose that’s a reasonable exhibit too,” Dot agreed with a curt nod.

“Thanks!” Bendy said.

Buddy frowned for a moment at him, seemed to reach a decision, and gestured for him to wait as he went to retrieve a breadstick.

“Well, you’re lucky,” Dot said. “That’s Buddy’s latest project. A cheesy, garlic breadstick.”

One bite, and Bendy felt transported to sheer bliss. He gazed up at Buddy and spoke through a mouth full of happiness, “I really like it.”

Buddy beamed. The review had clearly made his day, and Bendy felt more than a little thrilled himself as they left the pizzeria.

“I thought you would say something too, Inky,” Bendy said, glancing down at the bowtie mirror—only to find Inky was still lost in the same type of euphoria that Bendy had experienced. And Bendy could sense it at the back of his mind.

So Bendy didn’t push Inky more on the issue but instead stopped off at the police station. Officer Big Steve scratched his head in thought for a while at being asked for a contribution, until he reached among the crevasses of the debris sticking out of his body and tugged out a piece of paper. It was a note from of the other Lost Ones, apparently, calling him the “Best Police Force in Ink Harmony Park.” Officer Big Steve wiped an inky tear away from his eye as he passed it over.

Inky had returned from his breadstick-induced dream by the time they reached the hardware store. “Let me handle this one,” he rasped as they spotted Tom behind the front counter, carefully reassembling a radio. He waited until Bendy was close to the counter before bursting up and out into his full glory, with the clear intent to startle Tom and cause all the little nuts and bolts set aside on the counter to go rolling.

Except Tom was less than impressed at seeing him pop up. He grunted. “What do you want now, you overgrown ink blot?”

Inky grunted back, more exaggerated, as if to mock him. “We need donations for the exhibition room. If you cannot be bothered, we could take something that looks suitable.”

“You take anything without my permission, and you’ll get a fight,” Tom solemnly replied. The two of them stared at each other in challenge for a long moment.

“Bring it on,” Inky said, inviting the confrontation.

“What’s in your pocket, Tom?” Bendy asked, doing his best to point at the front pocket of Tom from the bowtie mirror. “Looks like a piece of paper.”

“Let’s see what we have here,” Inky plucked it out of the front chest pocket of Tom’s overalls, and Tom instantly lunged across the counter to tackle him. They locked arms right then and there, as each one sought to overpower the other.

Bendy stared as the paper unfolded to reveal… “You drew a house?” he asked. “It looks really nice, and it’s somewhere that looks like Ink Harmony Park.”

“What, are you going to live there with Allison?” Inky sniggered, then hesitated as Tom met his gaze squarely.

“Yes, I am.” Tom swung Inky against the front counter, and their grips both loosened. They backed away from one another. The wolf brushed himself off, gazing at the rough blueprints. “Snigger about it all you like, but I’m going to build this house for me and Allison.”

“Your own house,” Inky muttered. “It is big.”

“It’s meant to be big,” Tom said.

Bendy cocked his head. “Does this mean you want to move out of the manor?”

Tom sighed. “You probably mean ‘do I want to move away from everyone at the manor?’” he guessed. “Well, of course we don’t want to leave everyone behind, but it would mean a lot to have our own place, closer to this general store. And Allison has talked about starting a cartography business on the side. Everyone would be able to come and visit us, as along as they behave.” He shot Inky a pointed look, and Inky hmphed in reply.

“That’s… really nice,” Bendy said.

“It is,” Tom replied, “but I’d ask you to keep it a secret from Allison for now. I want to build it and surprise her.”

“Where is Allison?” Bendy asked.

Tom gazed out towards the plaza. “She just said that she’s mapping out some new areas,” he answered vaguely, and Bendy heard him add in much lower tones, “If she got into trouble while I was here and didn’t know what had happened...” Anxiety pinched his voice.

Inky shrugged. “Allison is tough,” he rasped with surprising diplomacy. “If she could stay safe from me while I was roaming The Studio, she can definitely handle herself now.”

A long pause. Tom grunted, tucked the paper away in his front pocket again, reached into another pocket, and yanked free a wrench. He plunked it into Inky’s hand. “Here, I find this wrench a short while after Allison and I met, and it reminds me of her. Take it for the exhibition.”

“Thank you, Tom,” Bendy said. “Allison will come back soon, for sure.”

Tom nodded. “I’m sure she will.”

***

Entering the general store, Bendy came to stand behind Sammy, who stood waving his banjo in the air. “You have no idea what incompetency I have to deal with on a daily basis,” Sammy ranted. “I’m leading a mess, not a band. They are a public disturbance and should get hauled off, but Officer Big Steve is notably tone-deaf.”

Porter listened to the tirade calmly. He stroked his chin. “You’ve got to admit, they are learning to carry a tune at least,” he consoled.

“Yeah, and each one has their own tune that they’re trying to carry at the same time. The woodwinds are especially atrocious.” Sammy slammed his fist on the counter, making a few objects bounce.

“Er, mind if I ask something?”

“Fine.”

“What exactly did you come in here for again?” Porter scratched the side of his head with one finger.

Sammy brandished his banjo like a sword. “I need banjo strings because one of the members of my band thought it would be a big laugh to try his hand at playing it.”

“Ah, is that all?” Porter said, unperturbed. “You worried me there for a second. I thought something awful had happened.”

Sammy gripped his banjo so tightly around the neck, the wood creaked and looked ready to snap apart.

As the band leader continued to stew, Porter glanced around him and called, “Be right with you, Ben and Ink.”

“What did he call us?” Inky growled. “He gave us nicknames too.”

Bendy, however, was quick to say, “Okay!” and gave him a thumbs-up. Then he glanced at Sammy. “Why don’t you ask Buddy to join your band? He’s good with the clarinet.”

“Hmph. I could use another—” Sammy began to say as he turned, only to nearly jump backwards over the counter at spotting Bendy behind him.

“Sammy is being annoying,” Inky informed him. “I’m going to emerge and throw him out.”

“Don’t do that,” Bendy said.

“No, no, don’t do that,” Sammy agreed, backing away from around them. However, even in his terror, what Bendy had said finally sunk in. “Buddy, you said?”

Bendy nodded. “He works at The Tasty Pizza.”

“The Tasty Pizza. That Buddy. Right.” Sweating ink, Sammy fled the shop just as Porter placed a packet of banjo strings on the counter.

“Looks like Sammy needed to hurry on off,” Porter noted. “Oh well, the strings will be here for when he gets back.”

Bendy gazed at him, trying to see the similarities between Porter and Mr. Ferguson. It was hard at first to draw any comparisons, since Porter was covered in ink, and Mr. Ferguson wasn’t—but there were certain similarities in the shape of the face, at least. And Porter stood up straight, while Mr. Ferguson tended to hunch a bit.

He wondered how much Porter could remember of his life before The Studio. From what Audrey had told him, Porter had been nice even before she had reset the Cycle. He had been confused, but not as confused and violent as the other Lost Ones back then.

“What’s on your mind?” Porter asked. “You look puzzled. You’d better let it out, so you can take a good look at it up close. That’s what I like to do.”

Bendy swallowed, deciding to take things in order. “We came for donations to put in the exhibition room at the community theater.”

“Ah, a wonderful endeavor. I’m glad you came to me. Give me a moment to go through what has been lost that I’ve found.” Porter went to a barrel of stuff he had seemingly stockpiled from his trips deeper into The Studio. “Ah, here we go. A fashionable hat, or maybe you would prefer a rubber duck?” He set both items onto the counter. “So, how is Bobby doing, Ben and Ink?”

Bendy frowned, wondering if it would be wise to prod the whole subject. Mr. Ferguson had been so sad, and who knew how Porter would react to news that he had a brother elsewhere?

Porter cocked his head at him. “You look sad. Like something went missing. Oh, you didn’t misplace that train, did you? Do you need me to find it?”

Bendy lowered his gaze and shook his head. “I gave it to my dad, and he was happy about it. He even put it up in his room.”

“Well, good for you. I love to see happy families because they are so happy, and Heidi has been thrilled too. She told me about her Uncle Joey.”

The name was like a boulder dropped into a small pond. Bendy whipped his head up. “But Joey didn’t—” He had been going to say that Joey had wanted to keep his presence a secret from The Studio at large, but if Porter was talking about Uncle Joey, it was too late anyway. “Hmm. How did that make you feel?”

Porter smiled, which was noticeable from the crinkles of ink around his eyes. “I know one Joey is not like the other Joey, just like one Lost One is not the exact same as another Lost One. We may look similar on the outside, but inside all of us are quite different.” He placed another object on the counter. “Ah, you could also put this paper plane on display. There are all sorts of objects on display, but this fashionable hat,” he patted the top of it, “has a special place in my heart, or maybe on my head.”

His laughter, since Bendy was really listening for it, really did sort of sound like Mr. Ferguson’s, and if Mr. Ferguson had been a bit younger, their voices would have been almost exactly alike too.

“Do you… remember anything about your life before The Studio?” Bendy asked.

Porter went quiet. He considered Bendy for a long time. Finally, he patted the fashionable hat. “Ben and Ink, do you know those special objects I mentioned?” As he spoke, Porter began to set out other objects on the counter as well, including an alarm clock, a cracked mug, and even a carton of milk. “I call them ‘Memories,’ and do you know why I call them that?”

Bendy shook his head slowly, unsure of where this conversation was going. Porter was still calm. He didn’t appear phased by Bendy’s question about life outside The Studio at all.

“I call them ‘Memories’ because they’ve sparked some memories every time that I’ve picked them up, and I remember them all. I recall finding most of them drifting around somewhere down in a place like the sewers. Just full of stories, and did you know, Ben and Ink, certain objects can teach us a little bit about ourselves as well? You look like you have a memory or two you have for me to share, so go ahead. What have you learned?”

“Well, I…” Bendy tapped his forefingers together.

Porter finished lining up all the objects on the counter. “No need to be shy now. I know you have some information about me buzzing around in your head. How about you let it buzz around out here? I am an explorer, and so are you, exploring the world outside of this Studio.”

“You committed yourself,” Inky grumbled. “You might as well continue. He asked for it.”

“How would you feel if I told you that you have a brother?” Bendy asked slowly.

Porter leaned back, considering. “A brother. Let me think of the name for my brother.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “There is only one name I could think of for my brother—”

“Bobby?” Bendy volunteered.

“Ah, you got it!” Porter said. “Now you know two people named ‘Bobby.’” He nodded. “But that is not a new memory. I learned about it thanks to that fashionable hat. It jogged something in my head here.” He tapped his forehead. “So, he’s still around, then?”

“He’s the landlord for the apartment where we live,” Bendy said. “He misses you.”

“I miss him too, but we’ll meet again,” Porter replied. “Someday, if I keep exploring. Stranger things happen around here every day.” He cocked his head at him again. “Is there something else wrong?”

“You are so cheerful,” Inky grumbled, voicing Bendy’s thoughts.

“What is wrong with cheerfulness?” Porter said. “And thanks to you, I know he is still alive. It gives me even more hope that we will find a way to meet again, Ben and Ink.”

Ah, so that was what Bendy was seeing. Porter was filled with hope. For him, even though he was apart from Mr. Ferguson, it was only a matter of time before they would reunite. Bendy managed a small smile.

“If Bobby is missing me too much, though, there is always something you could do to cheer him up,” Porter said. “Ask to make the noodles for spaghetti together. It brightens his day.” Then he recommended that Bendy and Inky take all of the items he had placed out on the counter because "they belonged together.”

Inky needed to emerge into his full form to hold everything, and as he headed for the door, Porter said, “The bonds you build with people can last a long, long time. Especially with people who have meant a lot to each other. It doesn’t matter how much time passes, or how far the distance is between them.”

The remark made Inky pause at the door. “Since you seem to be such a philosopher, I have a question for you,” he rasped quietly.

“Oh, yes?” Porter asked.

“What about the bond someone might have with something they created, like a cartoon character, which then got taken away from him?” Inky failed to turn around. He gazed at the plaza. “Do you think he would still care, if somehow that idea came back to him many years later?”

Porter considered the continuum for more than two minutes, while Bendy was keenly aware of anticipation, even a tinge of fear, at the back of his mind.

At last, Porter said, “It depends on the person, but if someone creates something with enough love, I think that bond can last a very long time. I also believe people who create things with love insert a little bit of themselves into their creations.”

“You mean, even though they might get separated, they can still remain connected to each other?” Bendy asked.

“Yes,” Porter replied without hesitation.

Without another word, Inky left the general store. As he lumbered among the crowds back towards the theater, Bendy was tempted to ask him about the last question he had asked Porter. But Inky looked so distracted, he decided to hold off on it.

Reaching the front door, Inky raised a hoof to kick it open, only to then drop it slowly and carefully shoulder the door open instead.

Henry was placing a blanket over Wandering, who lay curled up and snoozing on the counter. The lobby was otherwise empty, and Inky approached Henry quietly.

“We got the stuff,” Inky rasped.

Apparently, Henry had been too engrossed in making Wandering comfortable to notice them. He jumped and whirled about. His only defense was, “You came in so quietly.”

“You told me to be careful, so I was,” Inky grumbled. He stared at Henry as if trying to peer deep into his soul.

“Hmm… Are you all right, Inky?” Henry studied him right back. “I’ll listen, if you need me to.”

Inky’s grimace grew. “I was just thinking how ridiculous you look, Henry.” He sniggered.

“I’m not sure I get it," Henry replied, frowning, "but let’s get these things to the exhibition room.”

At first, Bendy thought Inky would switch out with him. However, Inky simply started to saunter towards the exhibition room followed by Henry.

“Tell me,” Inky rasped. “You have many implanted memories from Henry Stein.”

“I do,” Henry said.

“I want you to tell me everything you know about him. We will meet him in a few days, and we should be prepared.”

It was Henry’s turn to give Inky a long look, but soon enough, he smiled and said, “Sure. One of the first things you should know…”

Bendy listened as Henry spoke about Henry Stein with Inky. At the beginning, Henry did most of the talking. Over the course of the discussion, though, Inky started to ask questions of his own. And Bendy sensed unexpected pleasure intermingled with, he suspected, was hope at the back of his mind.

He wasn’t sure exactly what was going through Inky’s mind to make him ask so many questions about Henry Stein.

Still, Bendy had a feeling it was a step in the right direction, somehow.

And everything would be fine.

Chapter Text

Silence haunted the Old Gent Workshop. Allison crept along the airshafts, peering out past the grates at vacant rooms and unused machinery. Even so, she remained vigilant. Resetting the Cycle had reset many things, wiping away Wilson and his Keepers, but traces of them were still present in subtle ways. The manor, the subway system, and this nightmarish labyrinth evidenced what Gent had accomplished with their Iridescent Ink.

Gent had created things capable of enduring past a Cycle reset. If left to their own devices for long enough, they would have progressed deeper and deeper in The Studio, claiming more of it as their own until the entire realm had belonged to them. It would have been a power to rival the sketch book passed onto Audrey, albeit at a much slower pace.

Then there had been all the talk from Wilson, recounted for everyone by Audrey, about “usurping” the position of power Inky held in The Studio and replacing him with Shipahoy Dudley. From what Allison could tell, however, a twisted monstrosity nothing like the concept art had emerged to fight Audrey after it had incidentally been given Wilson’s soul.

In some ways, it reminded her of the way Inky had come out when the other Joey Drew had tried to get The Ink Machine to produce a walkaround version of Bendy from concept art that Henry Stein had done with love. But unlike what she had heard from the Henry she knew, the twisted Shipahoy Dudley had received a soul from someone in The Real World and had seemed to strike out at anything that moved.

How had Gent planned to control Shipahoy Dudley, especially since the creature wouldn’t have responded to their Signal Towers? Had they simply assumed that Audrey’s soul would have kept it obedient to them? Or was it because Wilson’s soul was so twisted that Shipahoy Dudley had behaved the way it had? There were too many questions to answer, and what Joey had dug up from recoding the lab documents hadn’t shed enough light on everything yet, in her opinion.

Allison realized she had stopped paying attention to her surroundings. After a quiet chastisement to herself, she continued along until she reached a room with two storage tanks in the middle. A few rooms led off from it, including a kitchen, and anteroom of sorts with steps which went up towards the cells where Wilson and his Keepers had kept any “Cyclebreakers,” or those they deemed problematic.

She gazed around.

Good, there was nothing—

“Hello there, Allison!” Heidi giggled. “Oh my, you’ve got great reflexes, and that’s one impressive sword.”

***

Henry walked down to the laboratory, hardly recognizable as the place of terror where Wilson had once conducted his experiments. New shelving lined the walls, filled with books brought over from Joey’s hideout in the sewers and other places. There were tape recorders placed into carefully labelled boxes, folders for notes, and even preserved movie posters.

Even though they had moved most of them over to the community theater, there were still a few boxes filled with film reels pushed against the wall. Joey sat decoding documents at what had become his desk, but he turned in his swivel chair when the door to the laboratory slid open.

“Ah, Henry, hello. It’s good to see you.” Joey turned to regard him with a smile of barely suppressed enthusiasm.

Yep, it really is like a chain wrapped around his soul has fallen off, Henry thought, coming over to look at a blueprint stretched in front of Joey. “What are you looking at?” he asked.

“I told you Gent had plans to expand the subway systems deeper into The Studio,” Joey said. “These blueprints detail one line they planned to create specifically between the basement of the manor and one of their other facilities, running all the way underneath Lost City.”

As Henry considered the idea and visualized such a line, dread swelled within him. “You’re talking about the Old Gent Workshop, aren’t you?” He tried to keep a tremor out of his voice, but it was clear Joey could tell the subject still made Henry very uncomfortable.

Joey sighed. “Yes, I am. Thank goodness, they never completed the project, but apparently there is at least one tunnel somewhere underneath Lost City, which came close to forming a connection with the basement area of the manor. However, it sounds like another branch of the same tunnel did reach the sewers.”

“The sewers?”

“Likely as a way to dump some of the byproducts of their experiments,” Joey said. “It’s one reason you never want to go swimming down in the sewers. You never know what chemicals or other things might be in the water.”

A tunnel, even an abandoned one, winding underneath Lost City from the workshop was more than a little unsettling. “We haven’t heard any activity from the workshop since the last Cycle reset,” Henry said.

“With Wilson and the Keepers gone, the place has likely remained vacant, since most other inhabitants of The Studio wouldn’t want anything to do with it. At least, not anyone sane. Gent did store a great deal of their machinery and other inventions there, and they used the workshop to carry out many of their infamous experiments. We can only guess at this point how much of their equipment and such endured past the Cycle reset.”

Henry would have bet anything that somehow the containment cells would have survived. He could still vividly recall the blank walls surrounding him in silence only disturbed by the sounds of madness or the Keepers exacting their specific brand of violence against someone. And then, of course, there were the experiments they had carried out on Inky, which had eventually given rise to Bendy.

“One of these days… I guess we’ll need to venture in there,” Henry fumbled out. “Just to see what might have been left behind.”

“Too late,” Tom rumbled. He entered the laboratory, carrying Wandering tucked into the crook of his mechanical arm. “Wandering tells me Allison was navigating the lower levels of The Studio the other day, when you guys were moving film reels, and she headed straight to the Old Gent Workshop today.” He grunted. “They only told me about it a few minutes ago when I was asking Betty if she knew where Allison had gone. I’m about ready to head over there myself, even if the Old Gent Workshop is like navigating a maze. From what Allison and I could tell during the last Cycle, it is the kind of place where it is easy to get lost and wind up somewhere dangerous.”

“Allison is a strong swordswoman, but do you have any idea why she would go to the workshop by herself?” Henry asked.

Tom heaved a heavy sigh. “She’s been having a hard time getting adjusted to a calmer lifestyle. Creating maps has helped her, but I can tell she still feels lost.”

Henry blinked in surprise. Allison had always struck him as among the most level-headed, flexible, and confident people he had ever come across. Completely in control. Then again, what Tom said made sense. For someone used to danger, slowing down could be notoriously difficult—as was admitting they needed help adjusting to a new routine.

There had to be something they could do for her.

“I tried to get Wandering to tell me where she was, so I could check on her, but they wouldn’t answer any of my questions. They froze up like a statue.” Tom nodded at the imp, paralyzed in his hold.

Henry had distinct reasons for wanting to steer clear of the Old Gent Workshop, but given the Gent experiments using The Ink, Wandering had had the most traumatic memories of the place between them.

Clearly, Tom understood the same thing. Because rather than get angry, all he did was look at Henry as if to say, “Please, you know how to get Wandering to talk. I’m not good with these kinds of things.”

“Here, let me have them for a minute.” Henry reached out for Wandering, and Tom passed them over. The wolf tugged a wrench out of his pocket and absentmindedly thumped the end of it into the palm of his mechanical hand, as if trying to alleviate some of his anxiety.

Henry sat on a stool and set Wandering on his knee. “All right, Wandering, I know you’re terrified of the Old Gent Workshop—”

“Terrified is only the beginning,” Wandering murmured, their voice echoing slightly. The lights flickered, and Henry detected the faintest of tremors. “Wilson and the Keepers twisted The Ink in that workshop. They sought to reach into The Dark Puddles and do horrible things. They did experiments, unconcerned as to the harm they caused. The pain. They tore into Just Inky there! We experienced his pain, and then their pain.”

The rattling grew more intense, as did the hiss of ink through Wandering. Henry would have quickly taken them upstairs, but he had the distinct impression it wouldn’t have made things any less perilous. Thankfully, the repairs Tom had done to their limbs were so far preventing any leaks, even with this latest upset.

“Focus on me, Wandering. Can you do that?”

Wandering raised their gaze to him. “Yes, Henry. We can try.”

“Good.” Henry smiled. “All we need to do is determine where Allison might be right now in… well, where she is in the facility. Because it is a huge place. Just a glimpse to help Tom.”

“To help Tom,” Wandering echoed. They glanced at Tom, who had taken to pacing the room, took in a deep breath, and released it slowly with a sound like steam escaping. Henry even thought he detected a faint puff of actual steam come from between their teeth. “We will try, but that terrible place is difficult for us to even touch.”

“It is?”

“It is cold there. Very cold. We have trouble touching it in the same way we had trouble touching the area around Lost Harbor. So… cold and numb.” The rattling intensified, until Henry reminded them to focus on him again. Things quieted down again as Wandering added, “We have tried to ignore it altogether, but we will do our best to help.”

“If this is too overwhelming for you, I’ll go with Tom to find Allison. It’s all right.”

“No, we do want to help. We do!” Wandering gazed at him in clear desperation. “We will be fine as long as… as long as…” They hesitated.

“As long as what?” Henry prompted gently.

Wandering took Henry’s hands and placed them on either side of their head. “As long as you stay right here to keep us oriented. To keep us from becoming too frightened. To give us some warmth.” They laid their hands on top of his own, and Henry felt coolness fill his head. His vision misted over. “You are brave,” Wandering’s voice echoed in his head. “We wish to be brave too.”

“What is happening?” Henry asked.

“Looks like you’re taking another mental journey,” Joey said. His voice sounded muted.

Fear jolted down Henry’s spine, although he was unsure if it was his own or came from Wandering. He willed himself to calm down, reminding himself that he had experienced this kind of sensation before, and that he would be fine. There was even some wonder associated with it. He hadn’t realized Wandering could do something like what he suspected they were about to do.

Henry closed his eyes.

***

Allison sheathed her blade. “Heidi, for future reference, I’d ask you not to sneak up on me for your own safety.” She took several measured breaths to slow her heartrate and calm down. “Why are you here?”

“Oh, I’ve been around here a few times before. We’re almost where I first met my Little Sister, so you could say I was feeling nostalgic.”

“You do realize anything could still be here?” Allison said.

“Yep, you are, right now.” Heidi giggled. “Except you are a someone.”

Allison groaned.

“Besides, I noticed you slip away after asking my Uncle Joey some questions about this old workshop a bit earlier on, scattered among some questions about other parts of The Studio. Uncle Joey was so engrossed in labeling reels and translating more lab documents, he didn’t even get suspicious. But I was listening too, and it didn’t take much guesswork to figure out where you were going.”

Allison hadn’t noticed Heidi while asking questions, which was unnerving. Asking for additional details would have come across as suspicious.

Then Heidi asked, “Does Tom know you’re here?”

“I didn’t tell him, but he probably suspects where I’ve gone.” Allison sighed. “Look, you should return to the manor. I’m sure Joey is missing you.”

“He misses me, all right. That’s the joy of having my Uncle Joey back. But I told him I was going out for a bit, and he only told me to be careful.”

“Tom did the same thing.”

“It’s natural, isn’t it, when you care about the person who is going somewhere else?” Heidi was at her ease despite their surroundings. Of course, if she had met Audrey here, Heidi might have had a better idea of navigating around the Old Gent Workshop. Even so, Audrey had really hoped to make this expedition a solitary one, where she could move around without worrying about someone else.

“Yes, it is,” Allison agreed, heading for the stairs.

“So, why are you here, then?” Heidi asked.

Reaching into her pocket, Allison extracted a piece of paper alongside a pencil. “I’ve been working on maps to provide at Porter’s general store, and with any luck, shortly through my own business.”

“Cartography. Ooh, it sounds like fun! A perfect solution for restlessness.”

“Are you calling me restless?” The question sounded sharper than Allison intended, but she had to admit Heidi’s words had struck a chord deep within her. Things were much calmer and more peaceful around The Studio nowadays. Gone was the need to watch every step she took, keeping her voice low except in certain, locked-down safehouses, and lashing out against unfamiliar, and therefore oftentimes violent, foes.

Despite his sternness and loyalty to fight alongside her, Tom had transitioned well to a life where he could work fixing things and dealing with various mechanics. As for Allison, she loved singing and would likely perform at the grand opening of the community theater, but a certain restlessness had indeed swelled up inside her. There were always new parts of The Studio to discover and compare with the last Cycle. However, a great deal of the risk and danger had faded away. The Butcher Gang had never been much of a threat even before Audrey reset the Cycle, the Searchers were now, apparently, at the beck and call of Bendy, and most of the Lost Ones were living in Lost City or around Ink Harmony Park.

Even then, by unspoken agreement, everyone had stayed well away from the Old Gent Workshop, and there hadn’t been any trouble or activity from this facility as far as they could tell. Allison wanted to make sure there wasn’t one last major enemy lurking in The Studio, biding its time for an ambush.

That mystery, and the possibility of having a real challenge to face again, was almost exciting.

“I shouldn’t feel this way,” Allison headed up the stairs, with Heidi walking alongside her. “Tom tells me I should learn to relax, since I have managed to map out a great deal of the known Studio. But I’m having trouble calming down, I guess.”

“You’re an adventurer,” Heidi said. “I could see how a little peace and quiet would bother you after a while.”

“There is always more to discover somewhere, and I have never usually gone looking for trouble. Well, Tom might beg to differ.” Allison smiled, imagining the many things Tom would have used as evidence to the contrary, all said in his wonderful, gravelly voice.

“Trouble can pop up when I’m exploring too, and I do enjoy looking around. Something new is always around the next bend, like things around here.”

They reached a room at the top of the stairs, with a switch alongside a sealed door. “You said you’ve been here before,” Allison said carefully.

“Sure have!”

“Have you explored this place recently? This Cycle, I mean?”

Heidi giggled. “Only certain areas, and very early on after the Cycle restarted. I haven’t been here since Ink Harmony Park came around. I wouldn’t want to visit most of the rooms in here anyway. The ones deeper in the workshop, I mean. Not with all the lab equipment and things. They’re no fun at all. Out here towards the front, though, there is more space, and it’s quiet. I don’t know everything. Oh, but did you know there is a tunnel somewhere around here? Uncle Joey found some blueprints about it this morning.”

“A tunnel?”

Then a harsh creaking sound interrupted their conversation, followed by a quick succession of metallic bangs along the walls. Allison and Heidi turned to gaze back the way they had come. One of the tanks in the room near the kitchen cracked, and a small squirt of ink leaked out.

“Oh, now there’s something new,” Heidi breathed.

Allison had pulled out her sword again. The bangs were coming closer, traveling across the walls and the ceiling, drawing closer. Under their feet, meanwhile, the floor quaked.

What was going on?

They heard what sounded like a series of groans in the walls.

***

Henry was aware of sitting in the laboratory with Wandering on his knee. Another part of his mind, however, got brought on a ride past Lost City—where he had the faint impression of standing among the bustling crowds—nice, warm, and filled with life. It reminded him of the sea of golden ink he had moved through on his first trip into Wandering’s mind.

Then there was the chill of the Old Gent Workshop. Henry gasped. It was like crashing headlong into ice water, but rather than jerk back in shock, they continued to push deeper and deeper into its depths. Disorientation wrapped around him, made the surroundings hazy and wavy, as horror threatened to take hold.

Henry knew he was only getting a taste of what Wandering was going through. He was along for the ride, and even though it was hard for him to concentrate as well, he managed to hug Wandering tightly to him back in the laboratory. He kept reassuring Wandering that they were all right. They were just entering a building, an empty building, and they should concentrate on his warmth.

It seemed to make a difference. Wandering calmed down, the setting became easier to discern, and the chill wasn’t as terrible as it had been only seconds previously. “Thank you, Henry,” Wandering whispered.

“Henry,” he heard Joey say from all the way back in the laboratory, “can you hear me?”

“Yes, I can,” Henry said. “We’re in the Old Gent Workshop right now.”

Next came Tom’s voice. “Do you see Allison?”

“We’re passing through an entrance hall, with a large door that has a screen above it,” Henry related, seeing the scenes in his mind, “and now we’re moving through to the next room over. There are a few tanks here, cabinets, and other things. We’re moving on. Another room. This one has two tanks in the middle, a kitchen of some type off to one side, and a second floor of some kind. Ah, Allison is up the steps, and… Heidi?”

Joey said, “Hmm. Heidi did say she was going to step out for a bit. In fact, thinking back, she said that a short while after Allison came to ask some questions about parts of The Studio and…. Oh, I see.”

“Allison asked you about the workshop, didn’t she, Drew?” Tom said. It was hard to catch the exact nuances, but Henry could guess his frustration was clear.

“Well, I might have been a little distracted at the time.” A nervous chuckle. “I am always happy to give what information I can…”

“Joey!” Tom barked at him.

***

The clanking made an odd, deep moan that rattled the steps.

Whatever was going on, Allison intended to be in the room beyond the sealed door. She yanked down on the switch, and when it stuck, she twisted about and brought the heel of her shoe down on the switch. It clicked the rest of the way downwards.

Then the ground jerked again, and she tumbled hard onto the floor. Her sword clattered away from her and down the steps.

***

“Allison fell down, and she dropped her sword,” Henry related. It was hard to concentrate after a while with the deep chill filling his head, and disorientating to keep up with the images and sounds he heard thanks to Wandering from the Old Gent Workshop, as opposed to those from the laboratory at the manor. And Wandering remained silent, focusing their efforts on staying as calm as possible and pushing through the workshop.

As such, it took a bit before he realized Tom was practically shouting at him, “Allison fell? Where? Tell me what is happening.”

“They’re at the door towards the containment cells.” Henry shivered. “From some reason, the room is shaking.” Then a realization struck him. “Which might be because Wandering is present.” In the depths of his mind, he wondered if Wandering could write on the walls using golden ink as they usually did while in the walls throughout most of The Studio.

And Wandering replied, “It is harder with us here, but we can try something.”

***

“Go ahead of me,” Allison told Heidi, pushing her along. “Run! I’ll follow you as soon as I retrieve my sword.” It was only a short distance away, and she sprang to her and dashed for it. Inches away, however, an inky limb erupted from a crack in the steps, dripping with Iridescent Ink, formed fingers, and picked up the sword. She retreated as the limb swayed back and forth, as if brandishing the blade, and came right towards her.

Was it another Gent experiment? Well, whatever this thing was, Allison wouldn’t let it have her sword. She took a deep breath, watched the clumsy movements of the swaying blade, ran back in, and managed to grab ahold of the handle.

Got it.

Then another inky limb formed to grab her ankle, and she managed to wrench the sword free of the first hand and slash at the second. But another one came up, and another one, and yet another one. Allison went crashing backwards, slashing away as, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed one of the limbs point a finger towards a wall, which was creaking.

An odd suspicion overtook her.

Allison stopped struggling for a moment, and the inky limbs stopped grabbing at her. She pulled out her pair of Seeing Tool glasses, slipped them on, and saw words appear on the indicated wall.

“Why are you…. fighting…. us…. Allison…?” They were squiggly and dripping with Iridescent Ink, but she could see the golden ink poking through.

She paused. “Wandering?” She glanced back at the limbs, and one of them waved a hand. And now that Allison allowed herself a moment to calm down and stare at the limbs, she could see how much they were trembling and having trouble staying together.

“We are here… but it is cold,” Wandering wrote in the thin and strange-looking letters. The limbs flopped down and dissolved. “Henry and Tom and Joey…”

Allison carefully reached her feet. In the heat of the moment, in the workshop, she had almost forgotten how similar the groans and creaking in the walls were to whenever Wandering had spoken with everyone through golden ink in the past. Of course, it had also been a while since she had heard them make such sickly and painful clanking noises, but she concentrated on being relieved.

“What about them?” she asked. “Why are you here?”

“Wanted… to check on… you…” Wandering was having a lot of trouble. “Tom was worried…”

Allison sighed. They knew each other too well, and so Tom had figured out where she had gone. She patted the wall. “Tell Tom I’m all right. I’m just working on another map and making sure there is nothing to worry about from this workshop. I won’t be much longer, since it looks like everything is quiet here. Heidi is with me,” then she corrected herself, “or I should say she’s just in the next room. We’re fine.” She turned and called, “Heidi, it’s all right! It’s Wandering.”

Her voice echoed down the short hallway towards the containment cells, but she didn’t hear any response.

Something about that struck her as very strange.

Allison gripped her sword handle tightly, frowning. “Wandering, can you wait here for a minute? I need to check out something.”

“Okay….”

She crept into the hallway, listening to the silence, and she was almost to the end when the door she had come in suddenly slammed shut. Then Allison noticed that the room in front of her was anything but empty. There as a whole group of Lost Ones with mohawks and similar accessories standing there, holding pipes and other weapons.

What immediately drew her attention, however, was that one of these mohawked Lost Ones was holding Heidi’s arms behind her back.

Heidi looked sheepish. “I definitely don’t remember these people being here,” she said amid the tense atmosphere. “Looks like they are good at hiding out too.”

“Let her go,” Allison said, holding her sword at the ready.

Snickers echoed among the group of Lost Ones. They outnumbered Allison, and even though she was almost confident that she could be a match for them, even so, it was important for her to be careful with Heidi being held hostage.

“Let her go, and we’ll leave,” Allison offered, trying to keep the situation from escalating. “We don’t have any reason to fight with you.”

“Oh, but you’ve intruded into our new territory,” the mohawked Lost One holding Heidi said, “so we already have more than enough of a reason to fight you. We control the doors. We control everything here, so you don’t get to tell us what we’ve got to do. Drop the sword.”

Allison glared at him.

“Drop it, or else.” The mohawked Lost One glanced meaningfully down at Heidi.

“Sorry about this, Allison,” Heidi said.

“It’s not your fault these guys are jerks,” Allison replied, dropping the sword, and pushing it away with her foot, “and they are going to be in big trouble.”

“We’ll see how much trouble we’re going to be in,” the mohawked Lost One said in amusement, leading to more snickers. He turned to some of other members of the group. “Take them to see Lord Amok!”

Chapter Text

Allison felt transported back to the last Cycle. Fractions among The Lost Ones had been common enough even before Wilson and his Keepers had invaded The Studio, although such groups had usually consisted of a few members who would swiftly turn on each other for various reasons. There were only two major ones that had stuck together for any considerable period without collapsing to inner strife.

The Ink Demon cult led by Sammy Lawrence had been the loudest and most fervent, with its members held together by their belief of being set free someday by Inky if they did exactly what his self-designated prophet told them. Meanwhile, the Devoted Followers of Lord Amok were, in many ways, the best organized and most self-absorbed. They defied the rule of everyone except “Lord Amok,” a title bestowed on the most powerful warrior among them, which they considered a much better system than having a prophet as a leader. They two groups had tended to avoid each other, but Allison could remember numerous occasions where their members had strayed a bit too far from their respective territories and had clashed ruthlessly.

Of course, most encounters in those days had been ruthless, which was where the current situation came back into sharper focus. Allison shook her head as if to clear away such bad memories and focused instead on Heidi beside her, while mohawked and other types of Lost Ones, most with pipes or other weapons, escorted them deeper into The Old Gent Workshop.

Ever the optimist, Heidi whispered to her, “They’re being nice despite everything, don’t you think? After all, they could have fought with us right when we met them, or perhaps locked us up.”

“Nice doesn’t enter into it,” Audrey hissed almost under her breath, even though she knew several of the Devoted Followers were probably listening to their conversation anyway. “Lord Amok is their fiercest warrior, so they are taking us to him for his judgement, and then they will do whatever he tells them to—be careful with that sword!” This warning was to a Devoted Follower who wore a headband with lighted candles on it but just as soon could be missing them, alongside his head, as he swung her blade around in a clumsy manner.

“You’re not in a position to tell me what to do, Miss Fancy Angel,” the Devoted Follower burbled. “You’re on our turf now, so you have to do whatever we—”

“Hey, no idle chitchat back there,” snapped the mohawked Lost One who had held onto Heidi near the containment cells. It was apparent he considered himself second-in-command to their leader. “Lord Amok calls the shots around here, and his word is what matters. Hush up.”

The burbling Follower fell silent, thoroughly chastised, but Allison decided to test her boundaries a little bit. “I thought you guys were in the sewers,” she said. “Why are you here in the Old Gent Workshop?”

“Lord Amok, in his infinite wisdom, decided we needed to extend our territory,” the mohawked Follower sounded smug. “He even found us a tunnel by way of which we reached this new land of our very own, empty and waiting for us to claim it.”

“They must mean the tunnel Uncle Joey told me about,” Heidi whispered. “The one that has a branch stretching all the way to the sewers.”

Allison groaned inwardly. She did recall Joey spreading a blueprint out on his work desk and beginning to talk about something of that nature, but she had used the moment as a distraction to slip away from the laboratory unobserved. If she had only taken the time to listen for a few minutes longer, Allison probably would have heard all about the tunnel and might have even noticed Heidi as well. Maybe then they wouldn’t moving past doors the followers sealed tightly behind them, getting guided through immense area with rooms numbered as “Experiment Labs,” and viewing strange boilers and other machines.

They went past a window through which she saw an especially large laboratory room, with a metallic table from which straps dangled, and above which there were a wide range of sharp tools dangling downwards. Ink splatters covered the walls, and deep claw marks gorged into the walls and into the glass itself. Two signal towers were visible in either corner, although they were inactive.

She had a horrible feeling about some of the things which might have gone on in this lab.

Somewhere far behind them, she heard loud clanking noises and writhing groans. Several of the Devoted Followers exchanged fearful glances, but the mohawked one in front said, “Yes, there are noises. Stop dawdling and come on!”

Allison and Heidi got shoved forwards, and the procession continued onwards at a faster pace.

***

The quakes had grown intense. Betty was in the kitchen at the time, brewing a mixture in a pot on the stove, which she switched off when appliances threatened to tumble off the counters. Thanks to some foresight, she had long ago made sure the dishware had secure places in the cupboards with well-fastened doors. All the lights flickered at a rapid pace, and the effect was getting worse as rumbles echoed throughout the manor.

“Oh dear,” Betty murmured to herself. Frowning, she quickly poured the drink mixture into a thermos and went to grab a thick blanket from one of the bedrooms. On her way down the hall, Tom came rushing towards her. The wolf shouted above the din, “Allison is in trouble at the Old Gent Workshop!” before running past towards the foyer.

Hurrying along as quickly as possible, nearly stumbling a few times, Betty went downstairs to the laboratory. Joey was grabbing boxes and files to keep them from crashing onto the floor, looking flustered. The door was partially open, but Betty squeezed through the opening without a problem.

Joey noticed Betty and said, “Careful, Betty, we have a situation here. Allison and my Heidi—” A film reel bonked him on the head, and he flopped into a seated position on the floor in a daze as everything continued to bounce about. However, he wasn’t so out of things as to keep from pointing to where Henry was sitting on a stool. He was hugging Wandering and keeping one hand on the back of their head. Their eyes were both closed, but a golden glow seeped out from around their eyelids.

“Wandering, speak to me!” Henry begged. “I’m right here. Concentrate on my warmth.”

“It’s colder now…” The words echoed around the laboratory in a chorus, fluctuating between different tones. Wandering was shivering badly. “We’re… too… cold… Henry. It is harder… to feel your warmth… at all, and there are… others… in the workshop. There is… danger. We want… to help… but we can’t… do anything… We are… too numb… It is hard… to see…”

“Then pull back, and open your eyes,” Henry said. “You’ve done enough. We have an idea of where Allison and Heidi are in the Old Gent Workshop, and Tom is on his way there now. How about you stop, I’ll put you to bed, and I’ll go to join Tom in the search? We’ll be fine.”

“They are going… deeper… much deeper… into the workshop…” Wandering replied. “Tom will need… directions… or else… he might get… in bigger trouble… than Allison and Heidi…” They shuddered. “Need to help… but so much… Iridescent Ink… and so cold…” They shuddered. “But you can… still open your eyes…. Henry… and leave… we think…”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Henry said. “If you concentrate on my warmth, you should be able to focus on getting out of there.” He muttered to Joey. “They’re freezing. I’m not warm enough for them anymore.”

Betty rushed over to wrap the blanket tightly around Wandering. “There we go,” she said.

Henry jerked in surprise. “Betty, you’re here.” He sighed with a smile. “I guess the tremors are bad upstairs too, aren’t they? It’s a little hard for me to tell what’s happening here right now.”

“Nothing for you to worry about,” Betty said brightly, even as Joey rubbed his head and stared around in dismay at all the items scattered on the floor. “How does the blanket feel, Wandering?”

“It is… a bit warmer…” Wandering murmured. The quakes quietened somewhat. “We still… feel too numb… It is… too hard… to see… We need… to follow… Allison and Heidi… and help… Tom…”

“Let me try something else, then.” Betty pushed the thermos against their lips. “Here, drink up.” With great care, she poured some of the mixture into their mouth, and the laboratory stopped rattling.

“Huh. Whatever you just did, Betty, it was effective,” Henry gasped in wonder. “The whole room snapped into better focus, and now Wandering—” He paused. “Wandering?”

“Hot chocolate,” Wandering breathed out. It sounded like pressure getting released. They stopped shivering. “We remember… hot chocolate.”

“I happened to find a container of chocolate powder deep in the pantry,” Betty explained. “I was saving it for a special occasion, but when the rattling started, I wondered if it might just help in these circumstances as well.”

“Good thinking,” Henry said.

“The warmth feels good…” Wandering spoke with greater ease. “There is more?”

“I’ve made plenty of it.” After helping them to take another sip, Betty pulled over the swivel chair from the work desk, so she could sit beside Henry with the hot chocolate at the ready. She reached over and laid a supportive hand on Wandering’s back.

“We want to find Allison and Heidi… please,” Wandering said. “To be more… helpful. Don’t make us stop…”

Henry nodded. “All right, then we’ll continue onwards carefully. Don’t worry, I’ll be right here.”

“And so will I, with more hot chocolate,” Betty added.

In the meantime, Joey sorted through the mess and opened a small, archival box. From where Betty sat, she could glimpse a film reel, The End Reel, kept in place by foam within the box and undisturbed by the rattling. Clearly relieved, Joey stuck the box into a drawer and said, “I’ll grab a few more blankets. Warming up their physical form is clearly having a positive impact on their ability to search through colder areas of The Studio. That’s a valuable thing to learn.” He headed upstairs.

***

Allison had always known The Old Gent Workshop was huge, but as they moved through more storage and laboratory rooms, it became painfully obvious how massive and labyrinthine the place was—and how disturbing One dim room had tape recorders laying on tables, partially gutted and with their bits strewn about. Ink stains were everywhere, and the stench of it filled the air.

Living in The Studio, the smell of ink was a common and often constant reality of existence, and Allison hardly thought about it. It was just the way the world worked. But this type of ink was stale and especially rank. A few of the recorders also seemed to be caught in some sort of loop—rewinding and then replaying themselves despite the audio coming out garbled or fragmented.

“They said we would leave after the test,” a desperate voice from one recording said. “It turns out, to them, we’re just *fzzz* coming! *fzzz* They’re coming for me next!”

Another recording echoed out. “*fzzz* dedicated my life to this company, and now Mr. Gray is talking about *fzzz* like some kind of mad scientist. I’m handing in my resignation now. He doesn’t scare *fzzzzzzzz* never going home again, am I?”

Sobbing filled another recording.

“We call this place the ‘Chamber of Voices,’” another Devoted Follower, this one with long tendrils down to her waist, intoned solemnly. “We don’t come in here often, or venture into that corridor over there.” She nodded at an opened door, through which Allison glimpsed tables with covered figures on them.

Heidi shuddered, and Allison laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I’m all right,” Heidi assured her, putting on a brave face. “This place is just a little gloomier than I’m used to. I’m missing Uncle Joey and my playroom.”

“You’ll get back to them safely,” Allison said. She was aware of creaking sounds some ways behind them again. They had gone quiet for a while, but now, even with the echoing voices, she could hear the creaks clearly.

They were being followed.

In past Cycles, Allison never would have considered that fact a good thing, but now she breathed a little easier. At least if Wandering were here, Henry and the others might know where they had gone, and so she focused instead on other aspects of the environment, trying to note which turns they had taken. She had a good head for directions born from the need for survival in The Studio, but it was harder when other details kept distracting her—including the presence of more Lost Ones along catwalks and elsewhere. Most of them simply watched Allison and Heidi, while others whispered among themselves.

It was Heidi, however, who noted aloud, “Did Lord Amok always have so many followers?”

The mohawked Devoted Follower scoffed. “More Lost Ones have seen the light,” he said, smugness overflowing, “ever since the dispatching of the prophet by his own Ink Demon ‘lord.’ He was killed for being too weak.”

“But Sammy wasn’t—" Heidi began, until Allison very gently nudged her with an elbow.

Then Allison spoke up, “What are you saying? That Sammy’s ‘flock’ joined their biggest rivals?”

“Precisely,” their mohawked guide turned to look at her, and his grip tightened on a Gent pipe. “The ones who joined us realized their prophet was weak, and that The Ink Demon would never set them free from this dark world. But Lord Amok is wise. He offered the Lost Ones who fled from the attack on Lost City salvation if they swore fealty to him.”

“And the ones who refused?” Allison asked.

More snickers. “He fought and dispatched them, one at a time. It brought much entertainment.”

“Doesn’t sound very entertaining to me,” Heidi noted aloud.

“If you survive,” the mohawked one replied, “perhaps you may yet learn to appreciate his clear vision. Lord Amok is also sure to take note of your distinctive, umm, colorizations. Strange things.”

It took a few seconds for Allison to catch on amid another chorus of amusement from the Devoted Followers. The painted hues of her dress, hair, and face had already become so mundane amid such now colorized settings as the manor, Lost City, and Ink Harmony Park, that she had neglected to consider how much those features might make her stand out when visiting other parts of The Studio. The same was even true of Heidi, to a much smaller degree, since she had already painted her bowtie any number of hues, with the latest one being peppermint stripes.

“Have you even stepped foot out of the workshop yet?” Allison asked. “You might be surprised at the ‘colorizations’ of Lost City.”

“We do not need to sully ourselves in that realm.” The mohawked one waved a hand dismissively. “Lord Amok tells us there is nothing valuable found out there other than crazed fanatics of some new leader by the name of ‘Audrey,’ who apparently claims to have tamed The Ink Demon. There were even reports of her riding The Ink Demon on a whim around The Studio. But we know she is simply another false prophet. Lord Amok led us up from the sewers into this new realm, and we will never forsake it for another.”

Like you forsook the sewers? Allison thought. She would have found their twisted perspective on the whole situation almost laughable if they hadn’t put her and Heidi in such a rough spot.

***

“Easy now,” Henry told Wandering, soothingly. “You’re doing good.”

Now there were two large blankets wrapped around Henry, Wandering, and even Betty in the laboratory. “Thanks, Joey,” Henry said. “We are following Allison and Heidi at a distance. There are a bunch of Lost Ones in the Old Gent Workshop, and some of them seem to have been a part of Sammy’s flock. Ah, and Tom has just reached the workshop. Wandering is going to give him directions and warnings to help him avoid notice by the Lost Ones.”

Joey put things away. Aside from concerns such as documents having wound up in the wrong places and reels getting damaged, the task kept his mind occupied. What had kept Heidi safe most of her time in The Studio, he knew, was her ability to hide from swarms of violent Lost Ones and others. It was her greatest defense, never having been the violent sort herself. She was too nice to wish harm on others. As far as he knew, she hadn’t even packed the bag of toys that had served her so well down in Lost Harbor.

Allison was a force to be reckoned with, and even having Tom there helped matters, but it sure would help if…

“Hey, Joey?” Henry broke in, scattering Joey’s anxieties. “I need you to do me a favor.”

“Anything.”

“Write a quick note to Audrey, Bendy, and Inky, asking if they are free. Audrey should be at work, and she may or may not have the sketchbook with her. Or it might be at the apartment with Bendy and Inky. Try not to alarm them if they sound busy, all right? You’ll find the mailbox in my room.”

The full implications of what Henry had asked him to do were not lost on Joey by any means. “Of course,” he replied, touched by the show of trust. He hastened to jot down a note. “I will come right back.” Then he headed upstairs. He had never been the fastest individual, but he hurried along as quickly as he could to Henry’s room and pushed the door open. There was the mailbox, not too far away from a bed, and a toy engine set on a shelf nearby in a clear place of honor.

Joey tugged open the mailbox, then blinked in surprise as another message greeted him.

Minutes later, he came down into the laboratory holding the letter. “It turns out Bendy and Inky sent us a letter first,” he reported. “Inky sounded the alarm that something didn’t feel right, although I still sent off the message explaining the situation.”

“It is because of Inky’s connection with Wandering,” Henry mused aloud. “I guess I should have known a plunge into the Old Gent Workshop wouldn’t have gone unnoticed by him. Thanks, Joey.”

“Anytime, old friend.”

***

Ring. Ring. Ring.

[Click]

“Hello, Archgate Films. Mrs. Fern speaking. How may I help you?”

“Hmm. Hello? Er, we need to speak to… oh, I mean, I’m Bend—hmm… oops, right. I’m Benny, and I need to speak to Aud—my mom?”

“Ah, you’re Audrey’s little boy, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I need to speak with her!”

“Goodness, you’re so grown up to be using the phone. Is everything all right?”

“I’m okay, but I really need to talk to my mom.”

“Okay. Hang on, sweetie. I’ll get your mom for you.”

***

After several more twists and turns, they entered the largest room Allison had ever seen. It was circular in shape, with a large catwalk along which Devoted Followers gazed down and quietly jeered at them. Crudely drawn murals depicting a muscular Lost One with a crown made from the legs of an Ink Widow hung from the walls, and at the end of a long carpet was a throne flanked by two members of the group, armed with wrenches.

On the throne itself was Lord Amok.

“All Hail, Lord Amok!” One of the Devoted Followers beside the throne announced, and a chorus of “All Hail, Lord Amok,” echoed throughout the room. The leader of their escort glared back at Allison and Heidi, and then swept forward to give his lord a deep bow.

“Great Lord Amok, we have captured these vile trespassers into our sacred ink-given realm and have brought them here for your judgement.” He turned to Allison and Heidi. “Bow before him, intruders.”

Heidi only sidestepped closer to Allison, while Allison crossed her arms and glared defiantly at Lord Amok.

Gasps abounded from the assembled Followers.

“You dare to show disrespect to Lord Amok?” The mohawked one who had led them there scowled. He approached, brandishing his Gent pipe, but Allison was ready for him. As he swung it, Allison carefully pushed Heidi down to safety, crouched herself, came up, grabbed him around the torso and arm, and swiftly flipped him onto his back. The Gent pipe was in her hand a moment later, which she turned it threateningly on the Lost Ones around them. They backed away cautiously, even the one holding her sword.

The guards beside the throne each held Gent Pipes as well, and they started to step forward, only to have Lord Amok halt them by simply lifting his hand.

“Such boldness. Your Lord Amok wishes to speak to these strangers,” he intoned solemnly, and the Lost Ones resumed their former position. He looked at Allison and Heidi, but his gaze was fixed on Allison specifically as he beckoned them forward with a finger. “Come here, strangers. You must have fought many battles to prepare for this meeting.”

“I have fought many battles,” Allison agreed, “but I wasn’t expecting to meet you. Heidi and I were under the impression the Old Gent Workshop had been abandoned.”

“Abandoned?” Lord Amok said. “This place has stood empty for as far back as any of my subjects can remember. It sat here, waiting for those fated to claim this palace for their own.”

Allison might have made a remark about Wilson and his Keepers in terms of memory, except then the Cycle reset bobbed to the forefront of her mind. Of course, after Audrey had reset the Cycle, Wilson and his Keepers had disappeared despite traces of their past presence lingering. Like the Old Gent Workshop. The Lost Ones in Lost City and Ink Harmony Park had seemed to sense a malignance about the place and had avoided it altogether, but most of The Studio residents wouldn’t have recalled its history—including Lord Amok and his followers.

For them, following a tunnel from the sewers, the Old Gent Workshop would have indeed come across as an uninhabited building, albeit one filled with horrifying sights and objects left from those largely forgotten pages of The Studio’s history. But none of those facts made Lord Amok or his subjects any less insane in their actions. They had found the place welcoming, for one thing. And they thought it was a palace? Good grief.

“Only those eager to challenge my authority would dare to intrude in the palace,” Lord Amok went on. “I know perfectly well you did not come here to sightsee.”

“No, I came here to create a map,” Allison stated, then hesitated, “and to explore what was here.” These two things were true enough.

Heidi raised a hand and said, “And I came to keep her company, because trips are friendlier with two.” She nodded at Allison, and Allison found a small smile tweaking her lips. Even now, surrounded by hostile forces, Heidi could find something lighthearted to say.

“You came with a sword. Nice and sharp.” Lord Amok gestured for the Devoted Follower with the candles on his head to come forward and hand over the sword, which he then lifted and turned about.

Hands tightening into fists at her sides, Allison said, “The Studio can get dangerous.”

“The Studio is dangerous, unless you have a powerful group with ways to stay safe from all the more volatile elements in this world,” Lord Amok said. “I will keep this sword. It suits me.”

“You can’t just—” Allison stepped forward, but several armed members of the group stepped in her way.

Lord Amok laid the blade across his lap. “Oh, you will find there are many things I can do if they suit me. It is the way this world works. It is the way I deem it should work, but I could use a fierce warrior such as you by my side. I can see that desire to fight in your eyes. You would make a commendable second-in-command, and with your peculiar hues, all would recognize you on sight.”

“But Great Lord Amok!” The mohawked Lost One who Allison had flipped sat up. “My wise and just lord, with your infinity far-reaching vision. You declared me as your second-in-command.”

“Silence!” Lord Amok declared. It was like thunderclap echoing in the room. “That was before she disgraced you so easily before your fellow followers. You are not worthy to speak with me.” He nodded to several of the other members of the group. “Take him out of my sight.”

Without hesitation, several Devoted Followers came towards their dishonored comrade, who waved his arms and pleaded, “No, Great Lord Amok. I can do better! Please don’t send me away. I beg of you. No, no, no!” As they reached for him, Allison lashed out at them, and the Devoted Followers backed away in surprise.

“Leave him alone,” Allison snapped.

Meanwhile, Heidi offered the mohawked Lost One a hand. “Up you get,” she said brightly, helping to pull him to his feet. The mohawked Follower looked uncertain, and more than a little thrown by this turn of events.

The shock of their actions rippled throughout the crowd. Whispers of bewilderment abounded, and even Lord Amok appeared flummoxed. “You are protecting him?” Lord Amok asked. “There is no beneficial reason to do so, unless you wish to dispatch him yourself.”

Allison gripped the Gent Pipe tighter. “Let’s just say I refuse to watch someone get bullied if I have the power to stop it.”

“Forceful words,” Lord Amok said, seeming to grow excited at the whole interaction. “Yes, you must become my second-in-command. You are perfect, so accept it.”

There came a creak from the wall, and Allison realized with a start that she was still wearing her Seeing Tool glasses when slim, golden words appeared, “Tom is in the ventilation shaft below, and more backup is almost here.” An arrow pointed to a grate, through which Allison glimpsed Tom peering out, unnoticed by the other Lost Ones.

Relief filled her.

Long ago, she and Tom had come up with a secretive series of hand signals to communicate across distances quietly. They had been more than a little useful in situations where, in the very early days of the last Cycle, the two of them had needed to warn each other of situations such as Inky’s presence nearby, or swarms of Butcher Gang Members around certain corners. Any loud sounds could have been fatal.

The hand signal she made now, twitching her fingers in a certain rhythm and flicking her eyes at the Lost Ones surrounding her, meant, “I need a distraction,” and Tom nodded. His lips moved, whispering something in the shaft, apparently to Wandering.

In the interval, Lord Amok had gotten impatient. “Answer with your acceptance,” he declared. “Become my second-in-command, and you will fight glorious battles in defense of a worthy cause.”

“Sorry, but I must refuse,” Allison retorted. “Because I am already defending a worthy cause.”

“Very well. You have chosen your fate.” Lord Amok nodded to his subjects and pointed at her and Heidi. “Kill them.”

Allison and Heidi braced themselves for the conflict ahead, there came a boisterous series of clangs and bangs that resounded throughout the room. The Devoted Followers who had been started to charge forwards slowed for a second, distracted, before inky limbs dripping with Iridescent Ink coursed upwards from between cracks in the metal and other breakages to grab at them.

They cried out in alarm, which only increased when Tom came bursting out of the grate wielding a wrench. “You always did have a knack for messing with things you shouldn’t,” he grunted out as he threw Heidi a spare wrench.

“I’m happy to see you too, Tom,” Allison replied, as the whole room erupted into absolute chaos.

The Devoted Followers of Lord Amok had expected a brief but violent tussle, where their great numbers would soon overwhelm and get rid of the intruders into the workshop. It came as an unexpected and terrifying surprise for them to get attacked and have their weapons yanked away by a whole swarm of peculiar arms, while a cartoon wolf who fought as fiercely as the warrior who Lord Amok had offered a position. Even the quieter, lighthearted intruder presented a problem. Much later, none of them would ever remember her striking anyone. It was more that she would be suddenly behind an armed opponent, who would lash out wildly towards her and the hit had landed on a fellow Follower instead, which often led to a retaliatory blow.

Devoted Followers dropped left and right, groaning across the ground and without any desire to get up again. The ones on the catwalk likely felt in the safest position to throw projectiles at the intruders without retaliation. One such member, specifically, had lugged a lump of ink and managed to strike Heidi on the shoulder. Heidi let out a shout.

The Follower was holding a second ink lump to take another shot when a yo-yo streaked through the air and knocked it out of his grip. He turned, and standing there at a distance was Bendy, yanking the yo-yo back into its coiled position. Pointing at him, Bendy scolded, “Don’t throw things at our sister!” And then he abruptly erupted amid a geyser of ink into what the Devoted Followers on the catwalk recognized at once as The Ink Demon, complete with inky tendrils across the walls, who leaned forward and simply growled out, “Boo.”

Screaming, the Devoted Followers ran the other way along the catwalk, where they met Audrey stepping out of a side door, holding a fully charged Gent Pipe.

There was only one of her, and many of them, but something like sheer numbers wasn’t a problem. Audrey brought the pipe right against the first Devoted Follower who reached her, and there came an explosion as the Gent Pipe released its pent-up energy. It sent Followers that end of the catwalk hurtling into the room below, while Inky did the same job by backhanding them at the other end.

To his credit, Lord Amok held his own, and soon he was the last one from his group left still on his feet and conscious—except for the dismissed member, who had tackled and punched his fellow Followers throughout the fray.

Lord Amok held the sword at the ready as everyone approached him. “Come at me, then,” Lord Amok said. “I will fight you all until my last breath.”

“Oh, you don’t need to fight all of us,” Inky said, sniggering.

“Just one.” Heidi giggled.

Allison strode to the front, holding the Gent Pipe in a steady grip.

“You are going to fight her,” Tom announced, and smiled. “The fiercest swordswoman around.”

Lord Amok went for a show of bravado. “If you haven’t noticed, I am the one holding the sword,” he said.

“The only question is—for how much longer?” Allison asked, readying the Gent Pipe as she might her sword, as Lord Amok charged. It was a full, frontal assault done with the experience of one who had clearly depended on heavy and thick implements, helped along by what were actual muscles. The power behind each swing made a whizzing sound through the air and would have been enough to end most opponents right away.

But Allison wasn’t most opponents, and she knew the importance of dodging, paying close attention to her opponent’s movements, and picking the best opportunity to lash out and strike something like, for instance, a wrist at the right angle to loosen the grip strength of those muscles. Within two minutes, she had not only clubbed Lord Amok on the wrist but seized her sword.

Agility was also crucial. In seconds, Allison whipped about, kicked Lord Amok’s legs out from under him, and sent him toppling backwards onto the floor. His Ink Widow crown fell off. She pointed her sword at his throat when he tried to rise.

“I win,” Allison said.

“Go ahead,” Lord Amok said. “You must kill me now.”

Allison glared down at him, and several of the defeated Devoted Followers to sit up. They were watching and waiting for her to “dispatch” their leader. At last, she said, “No, there is always a choice,” she sheathed her sword, “and I’d prefer not to stain my blade with your ink.”

She turned and headed back to her friends, although of course Tom was the first one to rush forward and embrace her. Everyone cheered.

Meanwhile, Lord Amok tremblingly scrambled to his feet, and then ran off down a side passage that had gone unnoticed until then amid the chaos.

“That is the way to the tunnel,” said the mohawked Devoted Follower who Allison had saved. He picked up the Ink Widow crown and slowly came over to Allison, holding it towards her reverently. “Your crown, My Lord.” Then he called to the room, in general, “All Hail, Lord Amok!”

“All Hail, Lord Amok!” came a chorus of groaning voices.

Allison held up her hands to ward off the crown. “I didn’t come to become your new Lord Amok. You don’t need a leader.”

“Yes, we do,” the mohawked Devoted Follower said. “We know nothing else. Please guide us, Lord Amok. Your wisdom is as vast, and your hues are elegant.”

“Your hues are very elegant,” chorused the Followers.

“They plan to call me their lord whether I want it or not,” Allison murmured, sounding resigned as she gazed around at all the Devoted Followers clasping their hands together as if in pleading.

Audrey sighed. “I know the feeling…” When Allison looked at her in surprise, she blushed in embarrassment. “It’s a bit of a weird story, from the last Cycle.”

After another long moment, Allison sighed as well. She looked at the mohawked Devoted Follower and said, “Well, for one thing, I’m not going to wear that crown.”

The conscious Devoted Followers perked up at the proclamation.

“Lord Amok has spoken!” the mohawked Devoted Follower called.

“My name is Allison.”

“Lord Amok decrees her name is Allison! All Hail the wisdom of Lord Amok!”

“All Hail, Lord Amok!” Another chorus of voices.

A third sigh. Allison rubbed the back of her neck as Tom took her gently by the shoulder, “You don’t need to put up with them, Allison.”

Inky leaned in, sniggering. “For once, Tom is right.” His grimace widened. “Want me to chase them off?” As he flexed his claws, the Devoted Followers backed away.

But Allison shook her head. “If we leave them alone, they will just choose another Lord Amok and cause more trouble. Besides that, they have a better idea of what is in this workshop than we do.”

Inky huffed. “I would rather have this place torn apart, piece by piece.” He growled at the walls. “We have the time, and I would help.” Even amid his obvious fury at their surroundings, however, he wheezed and gurgled—although these symptoms lessened when Audrey hugged him from the side and whispered, “Remember, breathe.”

“This place holds bad memories for all of us,” Allison told them. “But these Lost Ones might be able to help us investigate, and maybe even transform the workshop into something better. We can get rid of the nightmares Gent left behind, piece by piece, from the inside out.”

“Ooh, I get it!” Heidi clapped her hands together. “We can clean up the workshop, get rid of all the scary things, and turn it into something nicer.”

“Exactly,” Allison said. “The Lost Ones who are here also won’t need to leave, and there are a lot of them.”

Golden writing appeared on the wall. “Lost City will become warmer,” Wandering wrote. “We won’t be so numb.” The inky limbs had dissolved.

Inky snorted. “You might have too much optimism for this wretched dump,” he snarled. Meanwhile, from the bowtie mirror, Bendy simply trembled in fright at their surroundings but was clearly doing his best to stay strong.

“Well, you basically said the same thing about The Ink World, Inky,” Audrey said. “But then all of us were able to work together to start making things better for everyone.” As Inky grumbled, she persisted, “I don’t like this workshop either, but we need to try, don’t we?”

“Y-you’re right, Audrey!” Bendy said from the bowtie mirror.

Inky huffed. “Fine.” He looked at Allison. “Do what you want. I have better things to do, anyway.”

“It’s going to be a challenge to guide them and deal with this place,” Tom remarked.

“I think I’m up for it,” Allison replied, touching him affectionately on his snout. “Helping them might be just the project I need.”

Audrey turned to the wall. “Speaking of helping, I’m surprised Wandering was able to be here. From what Henry told me about the trip to Lost Harbor, you were too numb to do much down there.”

“Henry has helped us to stay focused, and Betty is giving us hot chocolate,” Wandering said.

“Hot chocolate?!” Inky and Bendy spoke up together.

“Joey put more blankets around us.”

Heidi smiled. “Uncle Joey!”

“We are in the laboratory at the manor,” Wandering finished.

Inky turned. “I say we go return to the manor and… check on this latest development.” The sudden eagerness in his voice seemed to only partially come from a need to leave the Old Gent Workshop as soon as possible.

“Agreed,” Audrey said, “and I am sure there is some honey in the kitchen.”

“Along with more hot chocolate?” Bendy sounded more than a little hopeful.

As their friends headed out, Allison hung back with Tom. She turned and looked at the Devoted Followers, most of whom had picked themselves off the floor. They were gazing at her expectantly, needing her advice. Allison took a deep breath and approached them.

All right, she thought, let’s get started.

Chapter Text

Returning home was uneventful. Audrey heaved a secretive sigh of relief that everything had gone so well when rushing to help Allison and Heidi against the Devoted Followers of Lord Amok. Her own encounter with them in the last Cycle had been brief but fraught with the same perilousness found throughout each twist in her first journey through The Ink World, and then she had just been grateful they would let her move on without any further problems.

Allison would lead them well as their new “Lord Amok,” and it was clear she invited the challenge. However, encountering the Devoted Followers got overwhelmed by the whole issue of where they had been for even a short period of time—the Old Gent Workshop. It may have sent a chill down her spine, but for Bendy and Inky… it was a place of pure nightmares.

They had stopped for a pizza at Tony’s Pizzeria on the way back as a special treat. But despite their usual enthusiasm for the gooey cheese and pepperoni, everyone ate mostly in silence. Inky grumbled low in his throat to himself, and Bendy took slow bites while looking distracted.

Audrey glanced at the clock. It was getting late. If Bendy and Inky headed to bed in this state….

“Are you two all right?” Audrey was almost surprised to realize she had voiced the question aloud, and it seemed to reverberate throughout the apartment.

The silence got broken further by a snort from Inky. “We just won a battle against a delusional bunch of fanatics and sent their former leader fleeing to the sewers.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Why should we complain?”

Bendy put down his pizza. “Hmm. I’m kind of not all right.” He took a deep breath and released it slowly. “The Old Gent Workshop was scary. Very scary.” He shivered. “I could remember when there were Keepers all over the place, and Wilson, and I was trying to escape but couldn’t at first. I kept expecting to see them when we went there, even though they’re gone.”

“That’s because you’re a scaredy cat,” Inky sniggered.

“I’m not a scaredy cat!” Bendy retorted. “You were scared too.”

Inky huffed. “I was angry. I wanted to tear the wretched place apart, but everyone insisted on changing it from the ‘inside out’ as if that would make a difference.”

“It might make a difference,” Audrey said. “Life in The Ink World is gradually improving, and the first time I went to Lost City, I never would have thought it could be as nice as it is right now. Oh yes, and even though terrible things happened at the manor too, we’ve made wonderful memories there. Now it is like a second home.”

“Audrey,” Inky growled, “the Old Gent Workshop and the manor are nothing alike.”

“With enough care and time, even the Old Gent Workshop could change for the better,” Audrey insisted. “I know it holds a lot of bad memories for you two, and it’s okay to be scar—”

“I am not scared!” Inky snarled with such ferocity his reflection in the mirror above the table quavered. “The Old Gent Workshop is an eyesore. There is nothing you can do with a thing like that. The memory of what it was will always remain. Some things can never change. It is better to just get rid of them.”

He was getting worked up, understandably. The subject was still too painful. Audrey bit her lip, suspecting she had already pushed him too far and unwilling to escalate the matter at such a late hour. Of course, Inky wasn’t the only one in the conversation. Bendy was twiddling his thumbs, while the rest of his pizza remained untouched.

Audrey sighed, pushed back her chair, and went to give Bendy a huge hug, which he eagerly accepted. “I know you’re still scared of the workshop, Bendy. It’s okay to admit you’re scared, and that you’re not okay,” she said, even as Inky grumbled something low to himself. “It is understandable given what you and Inky have gone through there. Besides, at least Allison and the Followers will deal with the workshop for now, so we can concentrate on all the exciting things that are coming in a few days.”

“Like the opening of the community theater, and the party?” Bendy perked up, with the slight tweak of a smile.

“Exactly,” Audrey tapped him with a finger right where his nose would have been, and he squeaked in delight. “And remember, whenever you get scared or worried about anything, you should never hesitate to tell me, okay?”

“Because we’re family,” Bendy said. His tweak of a smile transitioned into a full-fledged one.

“Right, and Inky—”

“Yes, I know we are family, Audrey,” Inky blustered. “You have reminded us of the fact many times now, as if we would forget it, including back in Animation—” Trailing off awkwardly, as if stopped short by the memory of that event, he instead huffed, “Anyway, I can’t help but remember it.”

“All right.” Audrey nodded, feeling glad they had avoided anything too intense for the time being. Then an idea came to mind. “Hey, I know it’s been a while, but how would you like me to read one of the Fluffy the Bunny stories before we head to bed?”

Now there was a broad grin on Bendy’s face. “Okay, but I want to read it to you and Inky.”

“Sounds good to me.” Audrey chuckled.

“As long as I get to read one of my monster books first,” Inky rasped.

“Nothing too scary, okay?” Bendy asked.

Inky sniggered. “All my books are too scary for you. A scaredy cat like you gets scared of your own shadow.”

“No, I don’t!”

“Come on, Inky, be nice,” Audrey said, but the tone of the discussion had shifted towards more lighthearted subjects. She couldn’t help a huge sigh of relief on that front, and by the time everyone settled in for the night, she was sure they would all have sweet dreams.

***

The Keepers had strapped Inky to a metal table after sedating him. Signal Towers buzzed in the corners of the room, keeping him from regaining his full strength and fighting back effectively. They stuck instruments into Inky that thrummed in rhythm to the Signal Towers. Parts of him crackled. Bones emerged. He might have been in pain, but like The Dark Puddles, he was cold and numb. It was a bitter blessing, in a way, but the physical assaults were nothing compared to the absolute rage that overwhelmed everything else like static, as The Dark Puddles screamed in his head .

Wilson stepped into the room. “A whole world compressed into The Ink Machine,” he mused aloud with a wicked gleam in his one eye. “It is as my great mentor proposed. This realm is as wondrous as it is wild.” There was a book cradled against his chest, The Theory of Spaces. “The foundations for new realities to create under the direction of the true ‘doers’ in our world. It is not so much learning to change the mold of what exists as it is drowning what came before and beginning anew. Learning from the mistakes of our predecessors.”

Turning to the Keepers, Wilson ordered, “Prepare the Compressor.”

From a machine wedged between the Signal Towers, the Keepers pulled over a nozzle and stuck it onto Inky. Thick ink poured out, but this ink was different than The Ink. It pressed him inwards, even while burning away at other parts of him. He screeched as it intermingled with and tore at his essence, chilling him to a level that he hadn’t realized was still possible. He felt paralyzed, as if his body were no longer his own. His thoughts and fury were all he had left.

As The Ink got pushed about, gurgles and wheezes arouse in his throat. Something cleared, and he snarled out, “I will drag you all into The Dark Puddles!” He had never managed to say actual words aloud before, only managing to get out guttural noises, but he savored the shock that registered on Wilson’s face.

Amid all this agony and the discovery of his voice, Inky felt a newborn mind and presence forming around what remained of him, deep into which he got shoved while leaving the faintest impressions behind. Like The Ink getting pressed into The Ink Machine. The Dark Puddles whimpered, and he railed in vain against his confinement while another mind awakened. He shouted and swore vengeance, even though no one could hear him.

Aside from that one line, no one was ever likely to hear him again.

Bendy opened his eyes and looked around in terror at the monsters surrounding him.

Inky watched as Bendy, now in control of his—or their—altered body, fell off the table and ran for the door.

It was locked.

***

Squeaky whimpers, mixed with the sounds of pounding on the bedroom door, stirred Audrey from deep dreams. She pushed herself up on an arm. “Bendy?” The little guy had pressed himself up against the closed door in the dimness, fumbling at its edges, as if trying to get a feel for some unfamiliar object. As if he hadn’t opened it many, many times in the past. His Fluffy the Bunny toy lay discarded on the floor.

She reached towards her bedside stand and flicked on a lamp, but Bendy didn’t turn or respond to the extra light. Instead, he continued to feel around the wooden surface with his fingers. Audrey slipped out of bed as Bendy managed to grasp the knob, twisting it rapidly back and forth in an odd jittering motion that wasn’t effective for opening anything.

“Why are you—?” Audrey trailed off, realizing that his eyes were tightly shut.

Bendy was asleep, and he was sleepwalking.

Audrey had never dealt with sleepwalking before, and at once her thoughts conjured various odd facts, or perhaps simply rumors, about this strange phenomenon. Among the most common things she had heard was how inadvisable it was to wake up sleepwalkers, since they might react badly. Of course, then again, she had also heard the exact opposite, which was that waking up sleepwalkers was good because, in certain circumstances, it kept them from wandering off and hurting themselves.

Unexpectedly caught between the two options, Audrey decided the best choice would be to steer Bendy back towards bed. With any luck, he would slide right back under the covers and stay there the rest of the night.

Her fingers had no sooner brushed his shoulders than he twisted about, smacked her hands away, and pressed himself hard against the door. “Stay away from me!” His voice had gained a peculiar timbre, accompanied by wheezes and gurgles, like nothing Audrey had ever heard from Bendy before. The desperate vehemence had shocked her more than the physical smack.

It seemed the information about sleepwalkers reacting badly to getting woken up extended to any physical contact, or at least in Bendy’s case.

Maybe talking would help.

“Hey there, little guy, it’s all right,” Audrey soothed. “You’re okay. I just want to get you back to bed, okay?”

***

Inky had stepped back in time, or perhaps it was one of the dreams he had suffered while locked away within Bendy. He was back in the locked room at Joey Drew Studios, where Thomas Connor often slipped in to scrape at The Ink on his face and had sought to reshape him as with an unfinished mold. The Ink covering him had been more painful then, and some odd sense that he would later identify as The Dark Puddles kept whispering of wrongness and tampering. Of chemicals and other processes twisting things. Of hatred and greed.

But Inky wouldn’t understand these things until later. At the time, he had simply whimpered in discomfort as he moved about. There was a certain warmth, however, deep in his very core. A mischievous quirkiness and curiosity.

Meanwhile, gruff and muttering, Thomas Connor had tugged at his limbs, slipped a second glove onto him that had never stayed in place, and tried in many little ways to coerce his form into something Inky would never be able to achieve.

Sometimes Inky had let the glove drop off his hand on purpose to make Thomas Connor laugh, but he never did. All he did was grumble and mutter dark things about Joey Drew, ungrateful clients, and the inability to fix mistakes. Trying to lean on Thomas Connor was a bad move. The old engineer had frantically rubbed at himself in horror, cursing as he grumbled about the things that happened to people who touched The Ink or let it stay on them for too long, or who ingested it. That it drove them crazy and was unnatural. That it was poisonous and nothing like the Spring.

Inky hadn’t known what Thomas Connor meant by Spring, but he understood the fear, the revulsion brought on by so much as touching him, and the arguments Thomas Connor had with Joey Drew late at night, often right outside his locked room.

He was a mistake to fix. Joey Drew had called him a monster.

The Ink he was made of caused bad things to happen. Even The Ink knew it was wrong. Something had happened to twist it, just as Inky was twisted.

Inky had tried to forget those early memories of Thomas Connor, and he had done a good job of it. But now the memories came back to him, as did the memory of the woman who had once accompanied the Gent engineer and had gasped at sighting him, reaching out for Inky before Thomas Connor had prevented the contact.

“Tom,” Inky could still hear her awestruck voice, “don’t you understand what you have done? Your machine works. You’ve actually—”

“It didn’t work right, Alli,” Thomas Connor had rumbled. “Mr. Drew is on my case about using ‘his machine’ to ‘ruin his Bendy’ to show the investors for Bendy Land. He’s the one who provided the sketch, even if I can tell it wasn’t ‘his sketch’ of Bendy. So now I got to fix it. I need to refine The Ink to make it less dangerous to handle.”

“How about you come home for a break? Maybe we can talk about… everything.”

“There’s nothing more to say. Go on ahead, Alli.”

“…Oh, okay. Just please come home tonight, all right? Promise me?”

“I need to finish my work first.”

There was a tremor in her voice as Alli had said, “Your work. Right.” She strode off, and Thomas Connor hadn’t even turned to watch her leave. A door somewhere distant had slammed.

Then Thomas Connor abandoned Inky, just like everyone else would abandon him.

***

“Let me out, ” Bendy begged again, continuing to wheeze. “I’m scared, and it’s dark in here .”

He wasn’t the only one who was scared, Audrey thought to herself, only to realize with a start that Bendy’s mouth hadn’t moved when she heard him speak. Further, his bowtie mirror was glowing, which combined with the frenzied wheezing and gurgling led onto an even more frightening observation. While the voice was different than usual—tremulous and heard as if from the bottom of some deep well—it was undeniably Inky’s voice.

Once again, the dream of peering into the kitchen mirror and seeing nothing but a merged version of Bendy and Inky came to mind.

No, Audrey had to stay calm. Something was going on, but panicking wouldn’t do her any good. She needed to focus on helping Bendy and Inky. “All right,” she said slowly, hoping against hope that what she was about to say would solve at least one issue. “Is your name Inky or Bendy?”

“…Inky. ”

Goodness, it really had been that easy. Audrey heaved a sigh of relief, although the whole situation as still worrisome. Bendy was sleepwalking, but Inky was responding.

“Named Inky by… by… ” Inky continued. It was strange to hear his voice when it wasn’t so raspy and echoey, or as if it were simply half choked with ink. “Named Inky by…. ” He paused. Clearly, that detail eluded him deep in dreams, and not knowing who had named him was a great source of concern. Even as Inky mumbled about the subject in growing irritation, Bendy turned about and continued to fumble at the door.

Audrey wondered if Bendy was controlling his own movements, or if Inky was somehow managing to do it. Uncomfortable questions arose from either scenario.

“Would you like me to let you out?”

***

“Would you like me to let you out?” Inky was aware of someone else in the locked room with him who was not Thomas Connor or The Ink. The closest he could come up with was the woman, with ‘Alli.’ This person wasn’t Alli, but there was something familiar about her.

“Let me out?” The question echoed in his head. He had never been able to speak aloud to Thomas Connor, although he had tried to imitate his grumbles and huffs.

But the familiar person seemed to understand him.

“Yes,” she said.

“You are setting me free. Why?”

“Because I want to set you free. Could you step to one side, please?”

Inky knew there had to be a catch. The last time someone had gently asked him to go anywhere, which had been Thomas Connor, it had been into this room to get locked up. He had been tricked. And even if he had wanted to move, Inky found it impossible. He appeared to be stuck in one place, perhaps some new flaw he hadn’t been aware of, and fear pinched him.

***

“Can’t move. I’m stuck, ” Inky mumbled.

Ah, and that solved another question—or, at least, Audrey hoped it solved another question. Bendy appeared to be the one sleepwalking. Meanwhile, Inky was talking in his sleep but unable to move.

“Don’t worry,” Audrey said. “I’ll help you. Can you feel this?” She carefully reached down and took his hand.

Bendy flinched but didn’t pull away. Instead, his fingers squeezed hers.

However, Inky said, “The Ink will taint you if you touch me. You will go mad. ”

What Inky said, versus what Bendy was doing, were at complete odds with each other. It might have been surreal if Audrey hadn’t had so much experience with them. “No, it won’t,” she said with a chuckle, even if inside she was still trembling in concern. Inky sounded so lost. “We’ll go together, okay?”

“You are not afraid of me? ”

“Of course, not.” Audrey gently guided Bendy to one side and opened the bedroom door. “All right, Inky, here we go. The door is open.”

***

The person had opened the door. Inky could see the studio hallway outside, and nothing else had happened. No one was arguing out there about him, no one was yelling, and the person was still holding his hand.

There had to be some catch. There was always a catch.

Maybe she didn’t realize the truth about him. He still didn’t have any control over his body, but he knew it was only a matter of time before she found out he was a mistake and abandoned him.

Or perhaps she already knew and was tricking him.

“Come on,” the person said. “I’ll guide you out, and I won’t let you go.” When he growled, she asked, “What is it? You can tell me.”

“You know, don’t you?” Inky grumbled. “You are just pretending to be nice. Because you already know all about me.”

“Know what about you?”

“That I am supposed to be something else! Someone else!” If Inky could have, he would have tossed away her hand as he had been tossed away. Just to see how she reacted to that kind of rejection. As it was, his body still betrayed him by refusing to move, so he only had his voice left—but at least he could use it to fight back in even a small way. “I came out wrong. Thomas Connor tried to fix me, but he couldn’t. I was too annoying. No one can fix me, so they abandon me. They fear me because I am a mistake, and The Ink does things to people, and I am a mistake made of Ink. Joey Drew called me ‘The Ink Demon.'”

He remembered the laboratory room with the Keepers and Wilson and got confused. Because he was sure it wasn’t at Joey Drew Studios, but he was sure it had happened. From another dream? What was reality?

Still, the person holding his hand was tangible, and she was there to get yelled at, so he did. “Everyone wants to destroy me, but they can’t. Maybe it is better for me to sink into The Ink and—” He got yanked into an embrace. Arms encircled him in their warmth.

“You are you, Inky,” the person said. “You were never a mistake. Joey Drew, Thomas Connor, and the others—they are the ones who were wrong.”

He was speechless, still stunned by the affection and the declarations. Then Inky noticed something that shocked him anew. “You… are made with The Ink too. You are like me.”

“That’s right,” the person said.

“Are you happy with that?”

“Overjoyed.” She hugged him tighter, and Inky realized that she meant it.

She understood.

She cared.

A name came to mind as the tears slid down his cheeks.

“Audrey…”

***

Audrey carried Inky, through Bendy, in her arms around the apartment for almost an hour, wiping at the tears that dripped down his cheeks, and soothing him. Inky didn’t say anything else, but she could tell he was aware of her comforting him. When the tears stopped and the bowtie mirror stopped glowing, Audrey returned to their bedroom.

She picked up the Fluffy the Bunny toy and tried to tuck Bendy back into his bed, but he refused to let go of her. In the end, they slept together in her bed instead.

***

She was alone in the morning. For a second, Audrey listened to the sounds of pancakes being made and enjoyed the aroma of eggs before the memories of what had happened the previous night prodded her. Whistling echoed above the crackling of the melted butter.

Audrey plodded into the kitchen, just a little worried about what she might find, but everything seemed normal. “Good morning, Audrey!” Bendy greeted while flipping a pancake. “Breakfast is almost done.”

Inky, meanwhile, had started to read Dracula. He was, of all things, humming along to the tune Bendy was whistling, but he broke off long enough to rasp, “Good morning, Audrey.”

“Good morning!” Audrey smiled. “The two of you seem to be in a good mood.”

“I was telling Inky all about the great dream I had last night,” Bendy said, hopping off the stool pushed up to the stove, carrying a loaded plate of pancakes. Audrey hurried over to help with a plate of eggs.

“Oh, you did?”

“Yep. Well, it was sort of scary at first. I was trying to get out of the lab at the workshop, and Wilson and the Keepers were after me. But then the door opened, and I wound up getting carried around a meadow by Fluffy the Swan, while Fluffy the Bunny and all their friends cheered us on from the ground.”

Audrey smiled and heaved an inner sigh of relief. “That sounds like a nice dream.” Her eyes slid over towards Inky, but then darted away again.

Inky sniggered. “You are so easy to read, Audrey,” he rasped, his grimace widening. “I bet you want to know what I dreamed about last night.”

“I don’t want to push you…”

“I was reliving the past,” Inky rasped. "It involved less than pleasant memories."

“Sorry to hear that,” Audrey said.

Inky shrugged. “It ended well enough.” He gazed at her, and Audrey wished she could know what was going through his mind. He couldn’t possibly suspect that she knew anything about his dreams. Even so, she felt herself beginning to sweat a little.

“It did?” Bendy asked. “It stopped being a nightmare?”

“You could say I was happy with it.” Inky sniggered again, and Audrey wiped at her brow.

Oh yes, Inky knew. Audrey was sure that he knew, somehow, but at least he didn’t seem upset about it. Thank goodness.

“I was also thinking about The Old Gent Workshop,” Inky went on, “and I realized that Gent were the ones who twisted The Ink to create the building in the first place, so vengeance will be served by reclaiming it as a part of The Studio. Of our realm.”

“That’s a good way to look at it.” Audrey chuckled.

“As for today, Inky and I are going to ask Mr. Ferguson to teach us how to make spaghetti noodles,” Bendy announced, “to make him happy.” He wore a huge grin, clearly excited about the prospect.

“Wonderful,” Audrey said, feeling her own spirits lift further.

Then Bendy asked, “Oh, what did you dream about, Audrey?”

Honestly, Audrey couldn’t remember her own dream. At a loss for anything else to say, and figuring that Inky knew the information anyway, she said, “I dreamed you—” she decided to leave the “you” part vague “—were having a bad dream, and I was talking to and comforting you. I carried you around the apartment until you calmed down.”

Bendy considered it. “You must have dreamed about it because of last night, but I had a good dream. Don’t worry.” He found nothing wrong with the scenario, but Inky had stopped sniggering. Instead, he made a strangled little gurgle as his grimace drooped, and Audrey realized that Inky hadn’t known she knew anything about his dreams.

Uh oh.

“You mean you heard …?” Inky mumbled, as the full implications took their time to sink in. “You were listening when I spoke of…? When I dreamed I was back at...?” He kept breaking off his own sentences, which didn't bode well.

Audrey glanced at the clock on the wall. “Would you look at the time?” she said hurriedly. “I’d better get going, or else I’m going to be late for work.”

“You were the one responding to me when I was pouring out all my...?”

“Say hi to Mr. Ferguson for me,” Audrey said. She grabbed her workbag and dashed for the door.

“Audrey, you get back here right now!” Inky roared. His embarrassed shouts pursued her down the hallway, broken only by Bendy calling out in bewilderment, “Hmm. Was there something I missed?”

Chapter Text

Bendy left the apartment after donning his usual hoodie disguise. He pulled out a spare key entrusted to him by Audrey, and which had soon become a great source of pride. It was a responsibility, something to protect, and the thrill of locking and unlocking the front door was immense. Several times, Inky had even grumbled that Bendy seemed to enjoy using the key a little too much.

As he slipped it into the keyhole this morning, though, reluctance overtook him, followed by a terrible chill. The click made by the lock sliding into place was even worse, almost intolerable. He had the odd impression of severing himself from some comfortable haven and being left alone in the vacant hallway.

Bendy shivered. The last time he had felt this way was around the time Audrey had first brought him and Inky to the apartment, back when the thought of stepping foot outside was paralyzing. But Bendy knew better now. New York City had a lot of fun places to visit and tasty things to eat, and he was a guardian of The Ink World. He was getting good at using his yo-yo. He could draw, write, and talk. And he wasn’t lonely anymore.

Low groans echoed from the bowtie mirror, and embarrassment swelled at the back of his mind. Inky was mumbling indiscernible things to himself.

Bendy had a feeling the sudden fear of a locked door was somehow connected to that mumbling, and to the abrupt exchange between Inky and Audrey. The morning had started off well, or at least so he had thought. Then it turned out something had happened again. Something he had missed.

It was just like back at Animation Alley, where everything had begun nice and fun but had taken an unexpected and frightening turn. Bendy had only managed to watch and listen in fear as Audrey had fought to keep Inky from wishing to live apart from them, and then all he could do was cry when given the chance to speak afterwards.

He had felt lost and unable to make things better.

He had felt so useless.

“Inky, why are you upset?” Bendy asked.

The groans stopped. Inky was quiet for about a minute before he grumbled, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh, okay.” Anger boiled up unexpectedly. Bendy was pretty sure it came from him rather than Inky. It wasn’t always easy to tell with strong emotions. “It’s… because I’m a scaredy cat, right?”

“What?”

“That’s why you won’t tell me anything. Because I’m not strong like you. Because you think I’m too annoying.” Tears misted his vision, but Bendy wiped them away as quickly as he could. Inky would have grumbled about them too.

More emotions blossomed amid the embarrassment—sharp bewilderment, mixed with shame. Inky gave strangled gurgles as he hesitated, still less than eager to share what was bothering him.

They were family, but Inky didn’t think Bendy could handle whatever was wrong. He must not have trusted him enough. It was frustrating… and draining.

Bendy sighed and muttered, “Never mind. Forget it.” He strode down the hallway and knocked on Mr. Ferguson’s door.

Now there was desperation too. “Bendy, wait, I—”

A vision flickered before his mind’s eye. Of Thomas Connor, much younger than the old man they had seen on the street, kneeling to pick a white glove off the floor and not looking at a tearful woman in a dress who stood a short distance behind him. “Your work. Right,” she said, tight-lipped, right before she turned on her heel and strode away.

She sounded familiar.

In fact, she sounded just like Allison.

The door opened. Bendy was aware of Mr. Ferguson standing on the threshold. “Ah, Benny. Have you decided to keep an old man company? I figured you might come over soon, so I’ve pulled out the—"

Whatever else Mr. Ferguson was saying got cut off as the world spun about him. Bendy was reeling. In the back of his mind, there was shock and fear, but those sensations were at the forefront of his mind as well. They belonged to both him and Inky.

Bendy toppled forward, hit the ground, and saw his sunglasses clatter across the carpet just inside the apartment.

Wheezing filled his head. “Don’t let him know. Think of Audrey. If he finds out…”

Were those his thoughts, or Inky’s thoughts?

Or was he speaking?

It was scary. He couldn’t help being scared.

“I’m sorry, Inky. You’re right. I am just a scaredy cat,” Bendy confessed.

“Bendy, I am the one—”

Mr. Ferguson reached down for him.

***

Audrey kept getting distracted. Normally, drawing came to her as easily as breathing. Even with the worries around what Thomas Connor and Gent were scheming, the assistant that could very well be a Keeper in the Real World, and the squeaking in the walls, work tended to settle her nerves. But all she had been able to think about since slipping into her office were the events of the previous night, and all the fears and traumas Inky had divulged while he was deep in dreams. There had been so much pain in his voice, suspicion, and uncertainty.

Inky had come a long way since they had first met in The Ink World, without a doubt. Still, at times it seemed as if those scars from the past, burned into him thanks to the cruel actions of her father, Thomas Connor, and others, were too deep. It was as if nothing she could ever say or do would convince Inky that he was a unique individual who could fully shrug off the shackles of the past. There had to be something she could do.

Then again, maybe she was trying to push him too far too quickly. Inky had gotten tortured, found himself locked away, and been forced to be alone for several decades. He had become as cold as The Ink itself, constantly fighting crazed foes and learning to intimidate others amid a hostile Ink World. He was only just learning to feel and know things beyond the existence he had known in The Ink World.

Audrey had been so ill-equipped to handle the realities of her very existence, the first time it had been presented to her by Joey Drew, she had made a wish to forget that part of her life altogether for years—even though her childhood had at least been reasonably happy. But Inky had never had that option, and it would take a long time for him to heal.

“The Ink remembers,” he had said, and now he would likely spend all day mulling over what Audrey had heard him say the previous night. He would probably be furious and might even withdraw further into himself.

She needed to be patient.

Audrey sighed and gazed down at the latest scene on her work desk, which happened to involve Bendy running into an alleyway and getting confronted with his looming shadow. The parallels were undeniable. However, Inky was anything but a shadow. He was far more substantial, with his own soul.

Then her eyes slid to Bendy, waiting for her to finish drawing him. He looked terrified.

She had been in such a rush to get out of the apartment that morning, and Bendy hadn’t known what was happening at all. But at least he was open and willing to talk through things. Of the three of them, Bendy was probably the happiest and best adjusted.

Audrey clung to this fact for some extra comfort as she continued to draw.

***

When Bendy woke up, he was resting against a big, fluffy pillow on a worn couch, covered by a quilt. A radio sat on a stand opposite the couch, from which gentle music wafted during breaks in the commentary from some kind of baseball game. There was a TV pushed against the wall as well, with a wiry antenna wrapped in tin foil, but it looked dusty and neglected. There were old, framed photographs on the wall of the apartment complex, a rugged map of New York City, and more than a few postcards from a variety of places. There were even a few posters related to Coney Island, including Luna Park and Astroland.

He recognized the room, of course. He was in Mr. Ferguson’s apartment. Confusion seized ahold of him, since Bendy couldn’t recall falling asleep on the couch and had never so much as taken a nap here.

Then recent memories gave him a gentle but urgent nudge. Bendy sat up and glanced down at the bowtie mirror—where Inky lay curled up with his head resting on his folded hands. His older brother wasn’t muttering anymore. Now he was very quiet. The swirl of emotions that had rocked Bendy about had settled down on both of their ends, and all that remained was a dull sense of melancholy.

Bendy hesitated, unsure of what to say.

“He knows,” Inky rasped softly. “Even if we were to slip away, he knows. We can no longer hide what we are from him.”

There was movement in the kitchen, and Mr. Ferguson was on the phone, apparently with another tenant. “Oh no, I won’t mind if you swing by tomorrow to bring the rental payment rather than this afternoon. Yes, I know how it is. Unexpected situations pop up all the time. I’ve got my hands full with a few developments as well, but you’ve got to be flexible, I say.” It was possible to glimpse him by peering over the backrest of the couch.

“Mr. Ferguson is nice,” Bendy said. “He helped us when Audrey got sick, and we’ve played checkers with him a lot. He’s even Porter’s brother.”

“That means nothing. The old man thought you were some weirdly dressed kid. He thought you were Audrey’s weirdly dressed kid.”

“Maybe he’ll be like Marge and Andrew.”

“We got lucky with Marge and Andrew! They locked us in the exhibition room. If Audrey had not convinced them to listen…”

“Mr. Ferguson gave me this nice pillow and blanket,” Bendy pointed out. He thought it was a solid argument in their favor, but Inky simply laid a clawed hand across his face.

“It was my fault. It was all my fault,” Inky moaned.

Bendy had never heard Inky so apologetic before. It was somehow more terrifying than if he had been angry. “I’m the one who passed out,” he said, spotting his sunglasses and his scarf on a stand next to the couch. If he reached over for them, it would put him in full view of the kitchen door—although Mr. Ferguson seemed deep enough in his conversation for Bendy to get away with grabbing them undetected. “I wasn’t feeling good at all, but I didn’t go back to the apartment or anything. I still knocked on Mr. Ferguson’s door.”

“Don’t take the blame,” Inky growled with something close to his usual gruffness. “You would not have fainted if I had been so…” He trailed off, clearly struggling with what to say next.

“I saw something. There was Thomas Connor and a woman who sounded like Allison,” Bendy murmured.

“Yes, it was a memory from back at Joey Drew Studios a long time ago,” Inky grumbled. “I told Audrey this kind of thing might happen because of our closeness. I told her the dangers, but she wouldn’t listen. She just had to make me promise not to change my wish and to wait until after the party. Anything could happen in that time. Well, now it has happened.”

“You wanted to live in The Studio, away from us,” Bendy said.

“It is not a matter of what I wanted. As I told Audrey, choices have consequences, and if staying in our other realm would keep you and Audrey safe, then I would do it. The problem is Audrey made me promise not to make that wish.”

Bendy hugged his legs to his chest. “Sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?”

“Because I can’t do anything about it. If I wasn’t such a scaredy cat, maybe—”

“Stop it!” Inky roared, and then sagged when Bendy flinched. “I am the one…” He took a deep breath and released it in a light wheeze. “I am the one who is sorry. I got us into this mess due to the way I am. It is not as easy for me to share things as it is for you.”

“Why?

“I am twisted and broken. Life and circumstances have made me that way, but you came out right. You were considered ‘harmless’ from the beginning and look like the cartoon Bendy. If I had come out right at Joey Drew Studios, things might have been different. They might have been better.”

Bendy considered it. “I don’t think they would have been better.” He shook his head. “Joey Drew was mean and selfish, and Gent would have done a lot of experiments anyway, right?”

“You don’t know.”

“You don’t either!” They looked at each other, and Inky tapped one of his clawed fingers on a metaphorical floor as Bendy went on, “Gent would have still hurt all those people and turned them into Lost Ones, Joey Drew might have treated you badly, and maybe he would have even turned you against Henry in this world. Audrey might never have been born, and me too…”

“It sounds like you have put thought into these speculations.”

“I might have,” Bendy murmured, “sometimes. Well, maybe kind of a lot.”

Inky huffed. “What, like while you were playing with your yo-yo or drawing pictures of Fluffy the Bunny?” He sniggered, but it was short-lived. “You have thought about it.”

Bendy twiddled his thumbs. “I’ve been listening, watching, and thinking. I know a lot of bad things happened, and that everyone else understands more than I do. But I want to know too, so I can be a good guardian and keep you, Audrey, my dad, and all our friends safe.”

Silence reigned for a long moment. Then Inky rasped, “We might become even closer.”

“We’re still different. You’re my big brother, Inky, and we’ll talk to Audrey too.” Bendy grinned—nice and wide.

“You are annoying,” Inky grumbled.

Bendy’s grin faltered.

“But I find strength in your annoyance.”

“Really?” The grin reasserted itself, wider than before. “So, you actually don’t think I’m a scaredy cat?”

“Don’t push it.”

“Well, if that don’t beat all!” Mr. Ferguson shuffled around the couch, making Bendy jump at his sudden presence. He had gotten so engrossed in his discussion with Inky as to almost forget the other major issue at hand, but the first thing Mr. Ferguson was switch off the radio. “Those New York Yankees have a way at leaving the audience in suspense, and then turning things around to their advantage. I’ve got to go and watch another game, one of these days, at the stadium.”

“We could still make a dash for the door,” Inky suggested in a vague, half-hearted way. “Maybe we can somehow convince this old guy he was seeing things.” It was clear he didn’t believe they could pull off such a feat.

Besides, Bendy wanted to give Mr. Ferguson the benefit of the doubt. When Mr. Ferguson turned towards him, though, he reflexively pulled his hood further down over his face.

Mr. Ferguson sank down onto an armchair nearby and gave him an indiscernible look. “Good to see you’ve come around, Benny,” he said. “I thought of calling Audrey, of course, but then she would come running. Can’t have that, considering the situation. You know, making a fuss and everything.” Then he frowned. “Riddle me this, if you will, Benny. How does someone suddenly acquire a child, overnight? Now I know there are several possibilities, especially in a big city like New York. Things happen, as I said the first time we met.”

His voice was quiet, almost hypnotic, as he went on, “Then start adding a few questions to the equation. For instance, why does that child go around all bundled up, even on warm summer days, with clothes that hide what he looks like underneath? Even if it’s some embarrassing scar or injury, perhaps, why would that same child keep it on around his own home whenever I come over, or whenever he comes over to visit me? Why does he keep fidgeting with his getup, and why does he squeak when he laughs? Sometimes I even catch sight of a grin, and I start to think I recognize it from somewhere. Most kids don’t exactly grin like that. Then he starts to speak out of nowhere, and when he does it’s like he’s chatting with and listening to himself half the time.”

Huddled in his hoodie and amid the folds of the blanket, Bendy blushed. Had he been so noticeable this whole time? The times he had gone with Audrey anywhere, he had largely avoided notice or attention. But, then again, the crowds of people they passed amid had tended to be absorbed in what they were doing.

But Mr. Ferguson had seen him on a regular basis, for relatively lengthy periods. There had been more time to take note of his strangeness and ask all those questions that he had just asked.

“He already knew all about us,” Inky rasped from the bowtie mirror. “He was just pretending, tricking us.” He groaned.

Meanwhile, Bendy twiddled his fingers. “You really knew the whole time?”

Mr. Ferguson shook his head. “Oh, I didn’t know the whole time. Those were simply the types of questions I’ve asked myself since Audrey introduced us. I still don’t know the exact details, even after getting a better look at you. Although I’ve got to say that if you’re going to argue with yourself on my couch, you could have kept the volume down. Anyone would know you were up to something.”

Bendy curled a bit further on himself. “What are you going to do now?”

“Well, I could ring up the authorities. The NYPD could rush over here, and before long this whole apartment complex would be swarming with officers. They might even call in a SWAT team.”

Horror spiked at both ends of his mind. Bendy wasn’t exactly sure what Mr. Ferguson meant by “NYPD” or a “SWAT team,” but it sounded bad.

“There would be a lot of news coverage, I’ll wager. You’d be all over the news on the radio and on the TV. People would flood the streets, trying to gain entrance to this complex and take a gander at you. Everyone would know you exist by this evening.”

Bendy shivered at the imagery as much as he did at most of the monster stories Inky read, and he could hear Inky wheezing and gurgling at the implications of widespread media coverage.

“Then again, I am an old man, and at my time of life, while a little excitement is welcomed, a lot of excitement is a hassle and could even do me a serious mischief.” Mr. Ferguson tapped the side of his nose. “The other tenants would complain about all the noise and disturbance, and then I’d lose my spot in their opinions of being the best landlord in the city. Can’t have that happening. Aside from that, Audrey has gained an extra spring in her step since you joined her, which would change if you got hauled away and became big news. Can’t have that happening either. Most importantly…”

He paused for such a long time, until Bendy prompted nervously, “‘Most importantly…?’”

“I’d lose my best companion to play checkers. It is surprisingly tough to find someone who will take an old man like me seriously at checkers, at least until I clean the floor with them. There’s no helping it, then. I guess I’ll have to keep your secret for now.”

“That is his reasoning?” Inky growled in disbelief. “He sounds like Porter.”

Bendy smiled. Mr. Ferguson did sound like Porter, but the brothers were different, just like Bendy and Inky were different.

“Now I won’t ask you to tell me anything more because it isn’t my business, but it looks like you came over here with something you wanted to do,” Mr. Ferguson said.

“Inky and I wanted to learn how to make noodles.”

“Your ‘imaginary friend?’” Mr. Ferguson asked, his face tinged with a hint of good-natured mischief, and there was another swell of emotion at the back of Bendy’s mind from Inky, of grudging respect. The gurgling and wheezing had died down.

Bendy thought about what Audrey had told them about talking things out, and his conversation with Porter. Mr. Ferguson probably got lonely living alone at his apartment, behind his closed door—even when surrounded by so much great stuff.

“He’s my big brother,” Bendy proudly declared.

Mr. Ferguson creaked upwards. “Ah, I see. I’ll bet he does his best to look after you.”

“Yep!”

“In any case, we’d best start making the dough,” Mr. Ferguson said. “All good noodles start with the dough.” He headed for the kitchen, and Bendy trailed after him.

“Talking helped,” Inky rasped, more to himself than to Bendy.

Even so, Bendy replied with a grin, “See? Audrey was right.”

***

Audrey was a bundle of nerves on the way home, having wound up working a bit later than she usually did nowadays. She reached the appropriate floor in the apartment complex and strode down the hallway, already ready to react to whatever might await her from Inky and Bendy with as much understanding as possible.

The door to Mr. Ferguson’s apartment opened. “Thought that was you, Audrey,” he said. “Come on in. We’re just about done with the spaghetti your boys helped to make.” Wondrous smells wafted out of tomato sauce and spices.

“Great,” Audrey said as she followed him into the apartment. The relief at knowing Bendy had been happily engaged in making noodles soothed her mind considerably—at least until she realized Mr. Ferguson had spoken in the plural. And then she saw Bendy come out of Mr. Ferguson’s kitchen without his disguise, wearing a small apron and a chef’s hat.

He saw her and exclaimed, “Hi, Audrey, guess what?”

“I will forever remember your expression at this moment,” Inky intoned, and Audrey relaxed. At least his first move hadn’t been to shout at her. In fact, both Inky and Bendy sounded quite pleased with themselves.

“And we made spaghetti!” Bendy added.

Mr. Ferguson closed his door. “Don’t stand there gawping, Audrey, the food will get cold.”

Just like that, another person knew about Bendy, Inky… and then Audrey.

***

They returned to their apartment well after the time Bendy and Inky usually went to bed, and they prepared for it right away. As Audrey tucked them in, however, Inky rasped, “I want to say something." He hesitated, but Audrey and Bendy remained patient until he pressed on, “I have considered myself a mistake for a long time. A monster that can’t be erased.”

“Oh, Inky, I—” Audrey began.

Inky held up a hand, and an edge of pleading entered his tone as he continued, “Let me finish talking, or else I might lose the nerve.” He took several deep breaths and released them slowly, calming himself. “I have thought of myself as nothing more than a twisted version of Bendy. That is the truth, and I still think the same way sometimes. I have thought that way for a long time, as I did when you caught me talking in my sleep. I cannot help it.” Inky gazed at Audrey, then his glance slid over to Bendy. “To believe I can be more than that is hard. Very hard. But I will continue to try because I can feel myself changing in here.” He carefully laid a clawed hand first on his head, and then upon his chest. “Because I am a guardian and part of a family. I promise to talk more and do my best to be more open, like Bendy. Even though it hurts. Just put up with me, all right?”

Audrey embraced him through Bendy. “Deal. You can only be you, Inky,” she said, “and we wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“That’s right,” Bendy said, hugging Audrey back, and it was if he could feel Inky pushing out, doing his best to embrace the warmth as well. There was an odd, stretching sensation in his arms, and he gasped. “Audrey, look.”

Audrey leaned back and watched in astonishment as Bendy’s arms, elongated to wrap further around her, shortened with an odd sound akin to a stretched balloon.

They gazed at Bendy’s arms, and then at each other.

Smiles crossed all three of their faces.

Chapter Text

Memories trapped like dewdrops along spiderweb threads could glimmer even in the darkness, touched by the slightest traces of moonlight that filtered through the forest canopy. Such images occurred to Wandering more often nowadays, connected to each other in delicate patterns, simple but beautiful. When the Spring of Dreams still trickled through its natural home, existence consisted of impressions more than memories.

Perhaps a deer would rest alongside the stream for a while and take a drink, and the Spring would sense, in the moment of their contact, the knowledge of a fawn soon to come. The love of an expectant mother made granting the wish for healthy offspring easy. But the Spring simply existed. It never spent time musing on the deer, or hoping the mother and her fawn would come for a visit, or even simply speculating on what might happen in the future.

Thoughts and feelings came from others and flowed away. They never stayed.

Then the Spring transitioned into The Ink within The Ink Machine. Memories, thoughts, and feelings became trapped and unable to flow away. The Ink, unlike the Spring, got told what it must be and what it must do. What might have been fleeting impressions had time to settle and imprint on their very medium, as The Ink learned to watch, listen, and remember.

***

Henry stirred. It was early in the morning, according to the clock on the wall. He had once again fallen asleep at his desk, going over some of the decoded documents. Specifically, there was the blueprint sketched for Gent’s planned enhancements to The Ink Machine that had bothered him for some reason he hadn’t been able to quite define.

There was also The Theory of Spaces, which Henry had once assumed had been written by the Joey Drew from The Real World, but which Joey down in the laboratory had confessed hours previously came from, instead, Alan Gray, the CEO of Gent.

“Why didn’t you tell me that Alan Gray wrote it the first time I asked about this book?” Henry had asked.

Joey had replied, “You asked for information on what the book covered, and I also didn’t want to stir any more hostile feelings. I was on thin enough ice as it was at the time.”

A book from Alan Gray and Gent blueprints weren’t the best reading materials on the eve of the grand opening of the community theater in Ink Harmony Park, so the message received from Audrey made for a welcome diversion—even though its contents surprised Henry.

Audrey wrote of sleepwalking, and the events that surrounded the landlord of their apartment learning about Bendy and Inky. But she stressed Mr. Ferguson was a nice old man who was Porter’s twin brother. Alongside everything else, Bendy could now apparently stretch his arms to reach things, although it took some effort, and his legs seemed capable of the same ability to a limited extent. Bendy, and even Inky, were intrigued by this new ability, but Audrey noted she felt anxious about what it could mean as well.

“Bendy fainted the other day after a bit of an argument with Inky. They had shared some kind of vision from the past that involved Thomas Connor and Allison Pendle, and their minds must have touched somehow. They told me that they were fine, but I’m still worried.”

Henry could almost imagine her pausing to gaze over at Bendy and Inky in concern, all he could think to do at the time was reply, “Let’s talk about it more after the grand opening tomorrow,” which wasn’t the most helpful thing to say but with any luck had eased her nerves.

Now, as he gazed down at the final lines of the message, where she had wished him goodnight, there came a gentle knocking on the door. Only one person he knew knocked liked that, and Henry smiled on impulse.

“Good morning, Betty,” Henry said as he opened the door. The smile on his lips faltered at seeing her flushed and nearly breathless. Given how difficult it was to rattle her, his own nerves instantly tensed.

Then he noticed the hues of the main hallway had, as best as he could describe it, darkened. All the lights were on but dimmed, and transparent specks of light, the same kind that had swirled about them during their dance party weeks ago, drifted through the atmosphere in lazy spirals.

Taking her gently by the shoulders, Henry asked in solemn tones, “What’s wrong?”

“Something is happening with Wandering in the basement,” Betty said. “I noticed the changes in the manor,” she nodded at the specks, “and I brought down a tray of hot chocolate and treats, just in case. When I saw what they had done… you need to see it, Henry.”

Betty grasped one of his hands and led him away.

***

The Ink remembered what the Spring would have forgotten, even while intermingling with a host of sensations and agonies. But The Ink had never dwelled on such things around the time when The Ink Machine came into being, and the memories had quickly gotten buried under the countless fragments of souls from elsewhere. The memories from the beginning were even deeper by the point The Dark Puddles first arose.

But now, so many fragmented souls had emerged from The Dark Puddles as Lost Ones that the buried memories shone like pearls on a seabed, and they drifted up to the surface. Wandering had the ability to understand them, and alongside that knowledge came an overpowering need to find a specific memory.

It was like an urgent itch that had started following the visit to the Old Gent Workshop. Just Inky had had certain feelings and thoughts while asleep that night, and Wandering had become aware of them like ripples across a pond.

Then the search for the memory had started.

***

There was a forest in the basement. Henry simply stood there beside Betty, his hand in hers, and stared at it. During their brief trip in Wandering’s mind, they had seen trees like the kind found in The Real World, but these examples were widespread and clustered together. Grass, bushes, and other vegetation filled the spaces in-between. A dirt path wound from its entrance amid the scene. Meanwhile, the tray that Betty had brought down from the kitchen rested nearby, still loaded down with a thermos of hot chocolate and a plate of cookies.

They could hear tweeting amid the treetops, and they both jumped at movement in the brush.

“Have you tried calling out to them?” Henry asked.

Betty nodded. “A few times, and the only response I received was a golden message on the wall to say Wandering wanted to search their thoughts for something.”

“Did they say for what?”

“Wandering would only say it involved memories from the past.”

“I’ll bet.” Henry gazed at the forest environment, and the fragrances of fresh pine, flowers, and more wafted out at them. Wandering would have needed to delve deep into their past to come up with these woods.

A snippet of his recent exchanges with Audrey occurred to him. She had mentioned sleepwalking and sleep-talking the evening after their mission to the Old Gent Workshop—a location which had clearly stirred many unpleasant memories for Bendy and Inky. Wandering had seemed fine that evening, although admittedly Henry hadn’t heard anything more from them after wishing them goodnight until the following morning. They had been quiet at breakfast the next morning. Then again, they were usually quiet and watchful. And they had helped with the dishes afterwards before slipping into the walls, where they had spent most of the day.

Thinking back, it made sense for Wandering to have been affected in some way by the workshop as well, especially given their connection with Inky. Henry kicked himself a bit for failing to take Wandering aside and ask how they had been doing since then.

Well, better late than never.

Henry reached out his free hand and slipped on the Seeing Tool glasses. He patted the wall. “Wandering, can you hear me? It’s Henry.”

Golden words slid across the wood about two minutes later. “Hello, Henry. We can hear you.”

Relieved, Henry asked, “Betty told me you were searching for something.”

“Yes.”

“What is it? Maybe we can help in the search.”

Another lengthy pause followed. At last, Wandering wrote, “We will know the memory when we find it. Your offer to help is appreciated, but we wish to find it on our own.”

“All right,” Henry said. “I’ve got to say, though, your forest is impressive.”

“It is what we remember. Those memories are stronger now and easier to visualize,” Wandering wrote. “If you wish to walk in the forest, you can.”

Henry and Betty exchanged a look.

“Are you sure that would be all right with you, Wandering?” Betty asked. “We wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“We appreciate visitors.”

“Well, if you are going to look for memories, please have some snacks at least.” Betty indicated the tray. “The thermos will keep the hot chocolate warm, but the cookies are best when they are fresh from the oven.”

Wandering stepped into sight. Their eyes were shut tight as they picked up the tray. “Thank you,” they said with a bob of the head.

Curious, Henry asked, “Wandering, another question?”

“Yes, Henry?”