Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

For the first time in three years, Vanessa was…

Vanessa.

Just Vanessa.

That horrible, horrible thing inside her head was… gone. Just like that.

Her mind was finally quiet. A blessing, yet also a curse.

It was like a dam had broken, and all the gaps in her memory over the past couple years rushed back to her all at once.

The screams of a child. The coppery smell of blood. The purple glint staring back at her in the mirror.

She curled herself tighter into a ball on the cold floor of the hideout. She almost wished she was still under that thing’s control, so she wouldn’t have to withstand the blur of horrible memories that flooded her mind.

But deep down, she relished the memories. She forced herself to remember every tiny, horrible detail. She deserved every last bit of the guilt, of the horror, of the pain the memories wrought.

But it wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough for what she did.

She’d murdered people.

Children.

The memories may have still been foggy, but they were clear enough.

Vanessa wished she could die. What if the thing wasn’t gone, just… dormant? She couldn’t, wouldn’t risk that. Yes, it would be best for everyone if she was dead, she decided.

It’s not like she had anything left to live for. Or that she deserved to live anyways.

She uncurled herself from her ball and glanced around the floor for her knife, she thought she remembered dropping it somewhere around here…

  Damn, the kid must have taken it. She ran her hand through her hair in frustration, then sat up with a jolt, eyes widening in remembrance. The kid!

  Oh god. That—that kid, he’d done something with the arcade games. He freed her.

And she’d tried to kill him.

Bile rose in her throat. She just had time to lunge to the waste bucket besides the desk before she heaved up the contents of her stomach.

Dimly, she realised that she didn’t even remember when or what the last thing she ate was.

She wiped the gunk from mouth with a patchwork furred-sleeve, and realised in revulsion she was still in that reprehensible rabbit suit.

She buried her head in her (still-suited) hands. What the hell was she even supposed to do now? Where did she go from here?

Then the fog cleared ever so slightly from her mind, giving her a goal.

So with a shaky breath, she did what she had years of practice doing. She compartmentalised it.

All the horrid memories, the guilt, the self-hated, everything, she tucked it all away into a tidy corner of her brain, locking it up and throwing away the key. She could process it later.

Because right now, there was a kid around here who she could still help.

She found the kid back down below in the Fazer Blast arena, hunched over Freddy Fazbear’s shredded corpse. Her fault, her brain reminded her. You set the bots to attack Freddy—

Shoving away the guilt, she stepped closer to him.

  “Hey, kid—”

The kid jumped and spun around. He didn’t run, but she didn’t miss the fear that flashed in his eyes and the way his whole body seemed to tense. (She at least had the sense to change out of that dreadful rabbit costume before coming down, and was back in her security guard uniform.)

Vanessa stopped where she was and held her hands out in front of her in an attempt to ease him. “Don’t worry, I won’t come any closer if it makes you uncomfortable.”

The kid—Gregory was his name, right?—just stared at her, but she noticed his shoulder relax ever so slightly. He nodded and turned back to whatever he was doing to Freddy.

Vanessa stood there awkwardly. What are you supposed to say to the kid you just tried to murder? And who just watched you have a mental breakdown, she remembered uncomfortably.

She lowered herself down to the floor as well, to try to make herself seem as small and unthreatening as possible.

  “…What are you doing?” She ventured to ask after a minute of uncomfortable silence, the only sound being the faint clicks of something the boy was doing to Freddy.

  “Fixing him,” The kid mumbled, leaning over the bear protectively.

Vanessa chose not to say that she’d seen the damage Freddy had taken, there was no salvaging that.

  “I’m not going to stop you,” she said gently.

  “…Oh. Thanks.” The kid blinked at her, then returned to his task.

Finally, he finished what he was doing and pulled Freddy’s head off of his body. He hefted the head in arms and stood up.

The animatronic bear’s eyes were closed, so she couldn’t tell if he had the telltale glowing eyes that signified there was still life in his circuits.

He stared at the floor, not saying anything.

Vanessa decided that, as the adult in this situation, it was her job to take control (though she felt anything but in control at the moment).

She stood up as well, and brushed off her slacks. “So, your name’s Gregory, right?”

The kid—Gregory, nodded. She noticed just how small the kid was. From the way he’d acted, he couldn’t be any younger than ten, yet had the stature of an eight year old, and he was noticeably skinny. His amber eyes were wide with anxiety, but ringed by deep eye bags. He was covered in a number of scrapes and bruises, not to mention the lower half of his face was still smeared in crusted blood from the spill he’d taken—and she’d caused—earlier.

He gripped Freddy’s head in his hands like it was his whole world, and, remembering what she’d overheard as Vanny about his past earlier—it kinda was .

She already knew the answer to this question, but she asked it for formalities sake anyway. “You’re an orphan, right? You ran away from your foster home?”

  “…Yeah,” Gregory mumbled, eyes trained on the carpet. “So I guess you’re going to call the police now to come and get me?”

That’s what Vanessa was supposed to do, anyway. That was the proper, legal way of going about things. But she also didn’t forget what she’d heard about his previous living conditions. “Is that what you want me to do?”

Gregory looked at her suspiciously. “Are you giving me the choice?”

  “…Kinda?” Vanessa chuckled weakly at the boy’s disbelief. “But we have bigger problems to deal with first.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, first of all,” Vanessa pointed a finger at him, “you’re injured. We should get you patched up.”

  “Vanessa is right. I believe that would be wise, superstar,” Freddy's voice suddenly interjected.

Vanessa jumped and swore in surprise. “Freddy?! You’re still functional?” She looked at the severed animatronic head incredulously. Sure enough, Freddy’s eyes were open and peering up at the security guard.

Gregory, on the other hand, didn’t seem fazed by this. “Oh, Freddy, hey. You’re awake again.”

  “Indeed!” Freddy responded heartily. “And to answer your question, Officer Vanessa, it seems Vanny’s attempt at dismantling me was mostly unsuccessful!”

Guilt clawed at her chest. “…‘m sorry about that,” she mumbled weakly.

  “It’s alright.”

Her head shot up. “Huh?”

  “I said, ‘it’s alright.’” Gregory repeated, a weary smile on his face. “I already figured out that you were Vanny, and that you weren’t in control.”

  “But…” Any little bit of composure Vanessa had gained immediately began to crumble. “Kid, I—I tried to kill you. I tried to destroy Freddy. How can you say ‘it’s alright’?! Because it’s not, and I’m… I’m so sorry,” she finished quietly, holding back her tears once more.

  “Did you, Vanessa, want to kill me?”

  “No!” Vanessa exclaimed vehemently. “I never, ever wanted any of this to happen—”

  “Then I don’t blame you,” he said simply.

  “How?” She whispered uncomprehendingly. Was this kid serious? “How can you just… say that? After everything? How do you know you can trust me—“

  “Oh, I still don’t trust you.” He stared her down. “But at least I know you weren’t trying to be a murder furry.”

Vanessa couldn’t help it, she let out a strangled laugh and buried her face in her hands. “…That’s one way to phrase it.”

A five minute conversation, and this kid was already going to be the death of her.

If only she knew what the future was about to bring.

  “But seriously kid.” She uncovered her face and ran her hand through her bangs—a nervous tic—and tried to get back to the topic at hand. “You’re covered in blood, we really should get you cleaned up.”

She brought the kid to the Fazer Blast security office, and dug out a first-aid kit. She insisted on cleaning him up herself, despite his protests that he could do it himself.

  “I’m not a baby,” he grumbled.

  “I never said you were,” she replied reassuringly. She figured this was the least she could do for him after… everything. He only relented after Freddy assured him he would be watching the security guard’s every move. So he sat there on the office desk, pouting, while Vanessa gently wiped the crusted blood from his mouth and chin.

  “Alright.” She tossed the pink-streaked wet wipe into the trash. “Now for your other injuries.” She gestured towards the worst of his scrapes: A scraped knee and a suspiciously claw-like set of puncture marks on his forearm. She grabbed a piece of gauze and a bottle of something and leaned back over him again. “This part is gonna sting,” she warned.

  “I can handle it,” he huffed. But she didn’t miss the wince and audible hiss he made the moment the antiseptic-soaked cloth made contact with his wound.

  “So…. Can we leave after this?” Gregory hesitantly asked a minute later while she was bandaging his wounds.

Vanessa sighed. “Not quite.”

  “Why not?” He eyed her suspiciously.

  “Think about it kid. If we just left now after everything, it’s going to look really suspicious. Do you want to get in trouble for causing tens of thousands in property damage? Not to mention the missing staff—” She clamped her mouth shut. She did not mean to tell the kid about that.

  “…Oh,” he replied quietly, then frowned. “Wait, the WHAT—”

  “Please don’t ask me to elaborate,” she cut him off, pleadingly. She finished bandaging his injuries and stepped over to the monitors on the desk. “But the point is, I need to delete the security footage from last night. Then I’ll disable the cameras.

She tapped away at the keyboard for a moment.

  “And… done!”

  “That fast?” Gregory looked over at her, evidently impressed.

  “This ain’t my first rodeo,” she sighed. She’d had way too much practice in covering up her crimes.

He scratched at a bandaid on his cheek absently. “So… Now can we go?”

  “No, that was only step one.” She looked over at the kid guiltily. He looked like he was ready to fall over from exhaustion at any minute. But, for both of their sakes, there was still something that needed to be done. “Now, we’re going to stage a break-in.”

Vanessa had a (rough) plan of how to give them an alibi. Or, rather, give her an alibi. Because frankly, she had no intentions of snitching on Gregory unless she absolutely had to. Should everything go according to plan, nobody needed to know there was ever a kid trapped there overnight in the first place. The Pizzaplex was already scheduled to be closed for maintenance for the next few days. If she remembered correctly, they had around two hours until a construction crew would arrive to work on Roxy’s Raceway, as had been planned long before the events of last night transpired. Therefore, they had around two hours to cover their tracks before anyone—besides herself and Gregory, of course—discovered the damage that had taken place.

First things first, she instructed Gregory on how to properly smash a window.

  “Oh no you don’t.“ Vanessa grabbed the kid by the back of his collar before he could thwack one of the Pizzaplex’s main entrance windows with a crowbar they’d picked up along the way.

  “Hey—!” He ducked out of her grasp. “I thought you said I could break the window?”

  “And you can, but not from this side.” She gestured for him to follow her over to the window. “If we were to break it from this side, most of the glass would fall on the outside, which tells the police that the glass was broken from the inside. They can pick up on things like that. So, for it to look like somebody broke in, we need to smash it from the outside.”

  “You sure know a lot about faking a crime scene.”

  “Ask me how I know that,” she quipped dryly.

Glass effectively smashed, she moved on to the next matter of business.

They walked back towards the Raceway, as that was where the construction crew would be heading, so it was the best place for them to be able to “find” her.

Somewhere along the way, Gregory had picked up a Pizzaplex-branded duffel bag, and was using it to cart around Freddy’s head. They’d seemed to have come to a silent agreement that Freddy was not to leave the kid’s side, and who was Vanessa to tell them no?

Right now, though, Freddy had temporarily powered down to preserve the last of his battery. How he even had any battery as a severed head was a mystery to her.

Picking up a stray roll of cables along the way, she led them into the party garage closest to the entrance.

She turned to Gregory. “How well can you tie a knot?”

  “Um, okay I guess?” He shrugged. “Why?”

Vanessa fished around in her pocket for a moment. “Take these.” She tossed a set of car keys towards him, which he just barely caught, surprised. “They’re for my car. It’s an old navy-blue truck in the employee parking. When we’re done here, I want you to wait out in there. You can take a nap, roll down the window if you need to, whatever. I don’t really care what you do, as long as you don’t touch the steering wheel and stay out-of-sight if you hear anybody, got it?”

Gregory held the keys as if they were made of glass. “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely,” she assured him. “But before you go, I need your help with a couple things.” She sat down in a corner of the dusty garage and held her wrists together behind her back. “I need you to take that cording there and bind my wrists and ankles.”

  “Uh...” Gregory picked up the cords and approached her hesitantly. “I’ll try…?”

They weren’t the most convincing bonds ever; knotted clumsily and slightly loose, but Vanessa was able to experimentally wriggle her hands without them coming undone, so it’d have to be good enough.

  “Next,” she inclined her head from where she was hunched on the ground as she no longer had use of her hands. “I need you to take all the tools from my belt. My taser, my flashlight, and my hand-radio.

  “Wait, you had a taser? ” He looked at her with wide eyes, before crouching down to take the aforementioned items from her.

  “Mhm. I want you to take those items with you. But,” she looked at him sternly, “you are not to play with the taser. Capiche?”

  “You’re no fun,” he grumbled, but carefully slipped the tools into his duffel bag alongside Freddy.

  “I mean, if you want to electrocute yourself then be my guest,” she snorted, then sobered up. This was the part she’d been dreading. She took a deep breath before quickly saying. “Now I need you to give me a smack in the head.”

  “What?”

  “I need you to use a blunt object to smack me in the head. Don’t, like, give me a concussion or anything,” she quickly clarified. The last thing she needed was a brain injury. “Just enough to cause a convincing lump. Make it look like I ‘fought back’ from a ‘captor’.”

  “But…” He looked at her with furrowed brows. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

  “Ah, come on, kid.” She attempted a lighthearted grin for his sake. “Don’t you have even a little resentment you wanna take out on me?”

  “But…” Gregory said again, and brought her flashlight back out of the bag, gripping it with both hands hesitantly. “I mean— that’s not— are you sure?” He asked incredulously.

  “Positive,” Vanessa confirmed. She squeezed her eyes closed. “Just… get it over with.”

Gregory was silent for a moment. She wondered if he would just straight-up refuse to do it.

THUNK.

Red-hot pain shot through Vanessa’s head. He’d hit her in the back of the head with the butt of the flashlight. Despite being prepared for it, it still caused her to lurch forwards and let out a pained hiss.

Gregory gasped and dropped the flashlight. “I-I’m sorry!” He sounded panicked.

  “No, no,” Vanessa said through gritted teeth. “That… that was right. Thanks.”

Yeah, that was definitely gonna leave a mark.

She waited for the pain to abate slightly before opening her eyes. Through her spinning vision she could see Gregory’s tired, worried face a hovering few feet away. She focused on his face to ground herself, and took a shaky breath. “This is the last thing, I promise. I need you to find something to gag my mouth with. Preferably duct tape, but a rag or something would work too.”

  “Um, okay, I’ll…” He scanned the party room, but saw nothing of the sort. “I’ll go find some. I’ll be right back, I promise.” He scurried to his feet.

  “I won’t go anywhere!” Vanessa back in an attempt at joking.

He returned a couple minutes later, triumphantly wielding a roll of duct tape.

  “Make sure you shut this door on your way out. Don’t loiter, get to my truck as fast as you can, the construction crew should be arriving soon,” she instructed while watching him struggle to rip off a piece of the tape. “Wait there until I come get you. I don’t know how long It’ll take, hopefully only a couple hours. Only leave if I’m somehow not back by dark. And remember, stay out of sight. Got all that?”

  “I… I think so.” Gregory held up the piece of tape in front of her face. “Are you ready?”

She nodded. “Should all this work, I’ll see you soon. Good luck, kid.”

She watched him gather up his duffel bag and turn to leave. He gave her a small wave before he did, which she unfortunately could not return in her current predicament, so she gave him a small nod instead. She watched him until he slipped out of sight, remembering to slam the garage door behind him.

Everything seemed so silent, suddenly, once the metal door had finished its clanging. She hoped she did the right thing by not handing the kid over to the police, and instead enlisting his help in staging a crime scene.

God, she didn’t need a rabbit virus in her head to still be a horrible influence.

But he’d insisted this is what he’d rather. So she shoved away her doubt, closed her eyes, and rolled onto her side to wait for somebody to find her.

Chapter Text

Somehow, miraculously, Vanessa had drifted off while waiting for the construction crew to arrive. She awoke to the muffled sounds of a commotion of voices somewhere outside the room she was in. She couldn’t remember how she got there and why was she tied up and what did Vanny do this time and—

She left out a soft gasp, trying to calm the anxiety that had started flooding in. Right, Vanny was gone, she was okay, the kid was okay, she got herself into this predicament on purpose, and she did it to help him.

It took her a moment to process what she was supposed to do now. Gah, her head hurt like hell—

She powered through the brain fog, and became aware again of the voices just outside the door. Right, she needed to get their attention.

Awkwardly, because her wrists and ankles were still tied, she rotated her body slightly and rolled towards the large garage door at the front wall. She began to kick her legs—feeling like some kinda weird mermaid as she did—into the metal door. Each thud of her boots against the metal crashed like cymbals.

She could hear shouts of surprise, then the voices quieted. The sounds of many footsteps heading her way, then the door rolled open.

Half blinded by the sudden brightness coming from the open door, she could barely see who—or how many people were there. More shouts, a few swears. Someone dropped to their knees in front of her.

  “Oh, f—! Hey, are you the security guard? Are you okay, ma’am?” They shouted for somebody to grab a pocket knife, who began hacking away at her bonds while another tore the tape from her face.

The construction workers, as she was finally able to discern from their neon safety vests, kept asking her questions while helping her up and into a chair. Was she injured, did she remember what happened, asking what her name and the date was (probably checking for a concussion).

She barely even remembered what she answered to most of the questions, she just let her instincts take over and channelled all the emotions she was already feeling into being a scared, clueless, weak victim. It wasn’t hard, that’s half how she felt anyways.

She only truly became lucid when one of them mentioned calling an ambulance, to which she vehemently refused. Going to the hospital would mean leaving Gregory alone in her car for even longer than she already had to. Besides, she wasn’t even sure of her financial status. Did she have insurance?

The workers were obviously reluctant to let her go without medical attention, but she waved them off, even going so far as to get up from her chair and pace a bit to show that she was fine, despite her pounding head and persistent nausea.

That didn’t mean she could leave, however. She still had to wait for the police to arrive, who would undoubtedly need to question her. She gratefully accepted a water bottle from one of the workers and slowly sipped it, to settle her stomach and to rehydrate after puking a couple hours ago. The water wouldn’t get rid of the lump in her throat, though.

The police soon arrived, and pulled her away from the concerned workers to interrogate her. It wasn’t hard to come up with answers for them, she just channelled all the horrible emotions she already felt into creating a story about a masked intruder who knocked her out and hid her in the party garage.

It was incredibly suspicious, to say the least. Police had begun to examine the extent of the damage, and their findings were as baffling as they were horrifying. What kind of burglar wouldn’t touch any of the cash registers or gift shops, yet stole Freddy Fazbear’s head —leaving his wrecked body in a pile of deactivated STAFF bots—along with the other three animatronic band members and the daycare attendant.

Vanessa didn’t have to pretend to be surprised at that last fact. As far as she knew, Gregory only took the other Glamrock’s parts, not their entire bodies. So the fact that they were nowhere to be found was frankly concerning. She hadn’t stopped to wonder what would’ve happened to the malicious coding she—no, Vanny —had inserted into the animatronics when the kid freed her mind using the arcade cabinets. Where would they have just disappeared to? She’d thought they were too broken to get back up.

That’s not to mention the copious amounts of other damage either. The smashed window in the entrance, of course. Then the go-karts in a wrecked heap on the track, a large section of catwalk above Monty Golf gone, and the aforementioned jumble of deactivated STAFF bots in Fazerblast. The weird stuff, too, like the showtime disk being left running, multiple vents with their covers taken off…

The worst discovery, though, was that the employees that had been reported as missing when they did not arrive home last night had been found. Found dead. Their mangled bodies discovered down in the employee cafeteria and drenched in blood. She had forgotten to ask Moon to clean it up after.

So to say it was all incredibly suspicious would be an understatement. The fact that she was the only employee left alive, the fact that the camera footage was gone—something only she should have access to do… just, everything.

Maybe the police would’ve pressed her further, but it was obvious that she was in distress. In the end, they had no choice but to let her go. After all, the workers that found her could vouch that she had been tied and gagged and incredibly weak when they found her, and a person can’t tie up their wrists by themselves. Plus her tools, including her security passes, were nowhere to be found.

So they let her off the hook under the stipulation that they would call her if they needed any additional statements from her.

But she had a sneaking suspicion they wouldn’t call. If she knew one thing about Fazbear Entertainment, it’s that they would rather try to cover up the situation entirely than try to bring justice for their lost employees, no matter how damning the evidence against her might be.

Speaking of Fazbear Entertainment, the police weren’t the only people she had to deal with, unfortunately. It didn’t take long for some Fazbear executives to show up, practically having a conniption over the state of their prized Pizzaplex. Her manager—Mr. Burrows or something his name was—alternated between chewing her out for not doing her job as a security guard properly and offering her a decent chunk of cash to keep quiet about the whole thing.

He also asked when she could expect to be back to work.

  “Never.” Was her response. “I quit.”

Was it impulsive? Yes. But she never wanted to be a security guard anyways, and after everything she'd be content if she never stepped foot in a Fazbear-run establishment ever again.

Mr. Burrows gaped at her, veins on his temple bulging. “You… you can’t just do that!” He sputtered.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Legally, yes, I can. And I suggest you let me, unless you want me to press legal charges for the highly unsafe working conditions in your establishment.” She stared him down, despite her being a young woman and him being a middle-aged highly-successful businessman, daring him to try to say no.

He let her quit, with a good chunk of hush money to boot.

Was that extortion? Probably. Did she have the energy to care? Nope.

Finally, she was allowed to leave. She received a few more inquiries if she was sure she didn’t need an ambulance, or at the very least wanted to let somebody else drive her home, both of which she waved off.

And she was free.

Meanwhile, a young boy and his animatronic companion were sitting in silence in an unfamiliar vehicle. Vanessa’s truck was slightly messy on the inside, some wrappers strewn about the floor and various knickknacks cluttered the console. Nothing that screamed “a serial killer had technically owned this car”. It smelled nice, too, a cotton candy air freshener dangled from the mirror alongside a Hello Kitty keychain.

Gregory laid across the back seats, using his stolen duffel bag as a pillow and hugging Freddy’s head close. Freddy was still deactivated, though he said that he probably had enough charge to power on one last time, and if Gregory needed anything he could press his nose to reactivate him.

He didn’t know how long he sat there in the silence. At some point, it’d started raining, and he focused on the rhythmic thuds of raindrops on the roof of the truck and tried to process everything that had happened to him.

Somehow, being left alone in the car of a stranger who had just spent the whole night trying to murder him was the first time and place in a little less than twelve hours he actually felt safe, and could let himself relax. Well, safe-ish, he still didn’t trust her. Even if she went out of her way to keep him out of trouble.

  Wait... had it really only been twelve hours since he was watching Freddy’s concert without a care in the world? He realised, half unbelievingly. It felt like a lifetime ago.

He thought about everything that had happened, and everything that he had done. He thought about Freddy’s friends. Yeah, they were trying to kill him, but what if they were like Vanessa and just being controlled by something? Freddy seemed to be able to feel actual emotions, could they? Could they feel pain? Did he hurt them? Was he a horrible person if some small part of him still hoped he did hurt them? Did Freddy hate him?

  Vanny was right, he thought miserably. He did want revenge. And now he had it.

His breath quickened, his throat constricting, and he curled himself further into a ball. The look on each of the Glamrock's faces as he brutally wrecked them replaying in his head. He couldn't breathe, he knew he was spiralling, but he couldn’t stop—

Impulsively, he reached out and pressed Freddy’s nose. He wasn’t prepared for the comical honk it gave out, which surprised him enough to momentarily distract him from his thoughts.

A faint sound of motors whirring could be heard, then Freddy’s eyes flickered open. He seemed disoriented for a moment, looking around and blinking before resting his eyes on the boy who was cuddling him, faces merely inches apart.

  “Hello there, Gregory! Is everything alright?” Freddy asked softly, noticing the boy’s distress. “Where are we?”

  “We’re waiting out in Vanessa’s car and—“ He sniffed. “Freddy, do you hate me…?”

Freddy seemed taken aback by this. “Superstar, of course not. I could never hate you. What makes you think that?” He whispered with exceeding gentleness.

  “You should hate me.” Gregory could feel a couple hot tears squeeze out of his eyes and roll down his cheeks. “I broke your friends, Freddy!”

  “Gregory, can you look at me please?”

Gregory brought his teary eyes up to meet the glowing eyes in front of him (glowing yellow, not blue. Just another reminder of what he’d done). But not an ounce of resentment showed on the animatronic’s face, only compassion.

  “Gregory, I am the one that should be apologising to you. I am sorry that I was inadequate as a protector and that your fear drove you to dismantling the others,” Freddy said regretfully.

  Wait, what? “No, Freddy, no!” Gregory insisted. Why was he taking the blame? “You were amazing, I-I never would’ve survived without you. It’s my fault. You told me not to hurt your friends and I didn’t listen! And then I lied about it, told you that they were all an accident when they weren’t and—“

   “I knew you weren’t being entirely truthful.”

  “What…?” Gregory whispered.

Freddy let out a robotic approximation of a sigh. “I may be… oblivious, at times. I recognize that. But when you showed up in Parts and Service with Chica’s voice box and only a vague explanation I had my suspicions, and when you suddenly announced you wanted to go to Roxy’s Raceway, that confirmed them.”

  “Then…” Gregory tried to wrap his head around this information. “Why didn’t you try to stop me?”

  “Because I knew I could not. You were going to get those parts whether I let you or not,” he replied. “I feared that if I called you out on it, you would have run off to do it by yourself. At least by pretending to be oblivious I could keep watch over you, to make sure you were safe. That is also why I told you exactly how to decommission Monty, if you were going to do it anyways I decided this was the safest way to do so, rather than just letting you run in without a plan.”

…

Oh.

Freddy’s odd behaviour over the course of the night made sense suddenly, and now Gregory just felt like an even bigger piece of crap.

   “But that doesn’t make it okay! I still shouldn't have!” He sniffed, self-loathing clawing at his chest.

  “You are correct, that doesn’t make it okay. But I still do not hate you for it. You were scared, and wanted to defend yourself.”

  “But it wasn’t necessary!” Why wasn’t Freddy upset with him? “I didn’t even really need the damn parts. Did we even use Chica’s voice box once? I was being a bully, Freddy, I was a horrible, selfish brat! I should have tried harder to find a better way of dealing with them or find a better hiding spot or—“

  “Deep breaths, superstar.” Freddy instructed gently. He waited until the boy had calmed some to continue. “We cannot change what has already happened. We do not know what may have happened if you did not decommission them. While I do wish you never had to do it in the first place, without Monty’s claws I would have never been able to rush into the Fazer Blast arena to help you, nor would I have been able to see Vanny without Roxy’s eyes.”

  “But—!“ Freddy gently shushed him.

  “You were able to save both yourself and Officer Vanessa, that is the most important thing, and an incredible achievement. I suppose you could say ‘all’s well that ends well’. We animatronics can be repaired, you cannot. The technicians will come in and my friends will be good as new.”

  “But what about you?” Gregory had been meaning to ask this. “They can’t fix you if your head is out here.”

  “I do not need to be fixed.”

  “Huh?” Gregory frowned, confused. “They can’t just put a headless Freddy Fazbear on stage. I thought you wanted to stay at the Pizzaplex? Isn’t that your home?”

  “Not… anymore. I vowed to protect you, Gregory, and that is a promise I intend to keep. You have given me a new purpose for my existance, and I realise now that I cannot go back to the Pizzaplex, after everything that had happened,” he said solemnly. “I do not care what happens with my body. Maybe they’ll reprogram it with a new head, maybe they’ll replace me entirely as they did with... with Bonnie. It is no longer my concern.” His voice cracked on the name of his missing bandmate.

  “Wait…” It took Gregory a minute to fully process what he was saying. Surely he’d misheard. “Are you saying that you want to come with me…?”

Freddy smiled. “That is exactly what I am saying, superstar, if it is what you wish. I will stay with you, as long as I am physically capable, no matter what the future holds.”

  “Do you… do you really mean it?” Gregory gasped. He couldn’t stop the tears that had squeezed out of his eyes again. Jeez, when did I become such a crybaby? He thought to himself. But unlike most times, he didn’t the need to repress these tears. They were… happy tears? That'd never happend to him before.

  “Of course I mean it.” Freddy affirmed softly.

Gregory reached out and pulled Freddy’s head even closer into a hug. Warmth and gratitude and so many other emotions he couldn't pinpoint blossomed in his chest. He looked at Freddy and he realised that he didn't just see a robot or an icon anymore, he saw comfort. Safety. The tears kept coming, and although Freddy did not have the arms to hug him back, Gregory could feel his embrace all the same.

Through his tears he was able to utter a tiny “Thank you…”

It wasn't nearly enough for everything he felt, but he hoped it conveyed even a fraction of his gratitude to Freddy.

They sat like that for a long minute, no more words needed to be said. They had each other’s company, and in that moment, that was enough. Freddy was the one to eventually break the silence. “I feel that my battery will be depleted at any moment. You should try to take a rest, I will keep watch until the moment it is empty.”

  “Okay.” Gregory shifted a bit into a more comfortable position and released Freddy slightly, though still kept him within his arms.

He could feel himself drifting off almost immediately. The absence of adrenaline had left him with an unbelievably deep exhaustion, trying it’s best to pull him under.

Freddy began to hum a tune softly, and mixed with the faint pattering of rain on the roof they created a comforting lullaby to which Gregory fell asleep to, smiling.

Vanessa stumbled out to her car. She didn’t even bother to change out of her filthy security guard uniform, nor did she have a jacket to throw over it. It was raining out, but she didn’t care. The cold drops of rain pelting against her skin and soaking her uniform were oddly cathartic, she could almost pretend they were washing away the lingering feeling of blood on her hands. Almost.

She couldn’t even remember exactly the last time she was outside of the Pizzaplex.

She opened the door to her vehicle (an ancient but reliable navy-blue truck which belonged to her estranged father at one point) and dropped into the driver’s seat. Despite her attempt to shut the door gently, it still slammed pretty loudly.

Gregory—who appeared to have been resting in the back seat—bolted upright immediately, frantically looking around.

  “Hey, hey, it’s just me,” she whispered guiltily. She hadn’t wanted to disturb him. She twisted in her seat to face him. His wild gaze focused on her, and she could see the moment he registered her presence, his muscles untensing, evidently not viewing her as a threat.

  “I’m sorry, did I scare you?” She said gently, not wanting to distress him further.

  “S’s okay,” he mumbled, gathering Freddy’s head into his lap.

  Um… how are you supposed to interact with kids again? Vanessa thought to herself awkwardly.

She knew that she didn’t want to ‘baby’ him, he had proved to be surprisingly mature. Somewhere between treating him like a mini-adult and a skittish cat, she decided, inwardly smiling at the idea of the kid as a kitten. The descriptor fit him surprisingly well, though, especially with his unnaturally yellow-amber eyes.

  “Um, did you… rest well?” She ventured, grasping for something to break the silence.

He shrugged nonchalantly, then asked her a question of his own. “Are you okay? I mean, did everything… y’know, work?”

She nodded with a smile. “Yep. It worked. It looked hella suspicious, but in the end they had no choice but to let me go. And they have no knowledge of you at all. All thanks to you, my little partner-in-crime.” Crap, maybe she shouldn’t have said that. She shouldn’t have referred to herself as a criminal (even if she was kinda was) and then insinuate that he was one too—

But to her relief, the boy cracked a grin at it. “It was kinda fun. Thanks, Miss Vanessa.”

She snorted. “Don’t make a habit of it. And don’t call me ‘Miss’, it makes me feel old. Just ‘Vanessa’ is fine.”

  “Okay, sorry, Mi— um, Vanessa.”

  What’s with the politeness all of a sudden? She then remembered that he’d seemed to have had a pretty rough childhood, and was weary of adults. The exceeding politeness was probably an ingrained response for him, she realised with a twinge of pity. She mentally filed that information away, to keep in mind when interacting with him.

The kid stared at her, and she could tell he was thinking the same thing that she was: “What now?”

She took one look at the weariness in his face and made her decision. The kid had been through enough today, she couldn’t in good conscience just drop him off to the social workers and a foster parent who clearly wasn’t treating him well.

She took a deep breath. “Look, technically I’m not allowed to do this, but you’ve had a rough day. Do you… want to come with me to my apartment?”

Gregory looked at her in surprise. “Uh, I mean… I guess? Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. But, I mean, only if you want to,” she made sure to assure him. “It’s completely your call. I just figured you wouldn’t want to go back just yet. We can deal with what comes next tomorrow.”

  “Okay then.” He gave a small nod, relief evident on his face. “Thanks, Vanessa.”

  “No problem, kid,” she smiled back at him. Grabbing her keys from where the kid had left them on the console, she went to start up the car. But before she could start the ignition, she heard a faint grumbling from the back seat.

  When was the last time he's eaten? She mentally berated herself for not asking sooner. “Right, sorry, are you hungry?”

Gregory ducked his head sheepishly. “Sorry…”

  “No need to apologise.” Jeez, what kind of life has this kid lived that he’s embarrassed to admit he’s hungry? “I don’t mind getting you food.” She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel for a second while she racked her brain.

It  wasn't the healthiest choice, but it was cheap and quick and what kid didn’t like it? “How does McDonald’s sound?”

He seemed to perk up at that. “It sounds… good, ” he said cautiously, as if not daring to get his hopes up. “…Could I get chicken nuggets? Please?”

  “Sure, if that’s what you want.” Vanessa shrugged.

  “With fries?”

  “Mhm.”

  “And a sundae?” He said mischievously.

  “Don’t push your luck, kid,” she laughed, though she was glad that he felt comfortable enough to ask. “But you can have a Happy Meal, so you’ll get a toy and I’ll get you chocolate milk. How does that sound?”

He tapped a finger on his chin slowly, as if deliberating. “It is… acceptable,” he said with faux-seriousness, before beginning to snicker. “Thank you!” He beamed after he had composed himself from his antics.

Through his wide grin, she caught notice that he had a missing tooth.

  “Don’t mention it. Seatbelt on?” She heard a click come from the backseat. “Then let’s go.” She turned the keys in the ignition, and pulled out of the parking lot, leaving the Pizzaplex and the nightmares that came with it in the rearview mirror.

Chapter Text

The car pulled into the parking lot of the apartment building.

  “We’re here.” Vanessa turned to face the boy in the backseat.

The two of them got out of the car. Vanessa offered to carry the duffel bag (with Glamrock Freddy’s head inside) for him, which he vehemently refused.

During their drive home as Gregory was happily munching away on chicken nuggets, Vanessa had tried to piece together some of her memories from the past few months. Ever since this whole thing started, she’d been spending a good majority of her time at the Pizzaplex, working pretty much every night shift. But as time progressed, the thing in her head started demanding more and more from her, resulting in her sometimes staying at the Pizzaplex for multiple days straight. Eventually, it seems Vanny had decided that there was little point in going back to her apartment at all, so she’d been living at the Pizzaplex full-time for around… four months now?

She’d worried that Vanny would’ve just let her lease expire, and she’d be effectively homeless. However no notice of eviction waited for her at her front door, causing her to breathe a sigh of relief. It seems Vanny at least had the foresight to set her rent to automatic renewal.

Her apartment was nothing special. A modest one bedroom in downtown, which suited her when she was a broke college student just fine. The front door opened up into a small living room, which connected to the kitchen. The living room had an old brown-pleather couch she’d inherited from some late relative, and a bookshelf in the corner was sparsely filled with some figurines and plushies from various video games, as well as some trashy, feel-good YA books—reminders of her interests back when her mind was entirely her own.

A fine layer of dust covered every surface, too, visually reinforcing just how long it’d been since she’d last been there.

She realised that she had just been paused in the open doorway, staring, and moved inside to let Gregory in.

  “It’s not much, but hey, it’s a place to rest your head, right?” She turned to Gregory, who was standing in the doorway hesitantly, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Oh, you can come in, you know.” Gregory nodded mutely at her and slipped off his shoes, neatly placing them at the side of the mat.

She watched as Gregory poked around at his new environment for a bit, cringing when he skimmed a finger across the counter and it left a noticeable trail in the dust that coated the granite surface. If it bothered him, he didn’t say so, just wiped his now-dusty finger off on his already-filthy shorts.

Vanessa cleared her throat, choosing to ignore the way he jumped when she did. “Do you mind sleeping on the couch? I’d give you my room, but I'm honestly not sure when the last time I washed my sheets was.” Or what even might be in my room, she thought privately.

  “That’s fine,” he said quickly. “The sofa is fine. It beats sleeping in a tree or a cardboard box.”

Vanessa stared at him. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

The kid had the audacity to shrug vaguely in response.

Vanessa rubbed her temples. Whether he was serious or not, she’d made a mental note to give him the softest pillow she had and lots of extra blankets.

  “Do you want to have the first shower?” She asked. Truthfully, she wanted nothing more than to peel off her wretched uniform and stand under the scalding trickle until the persistent, crawling feeling of grime had been thoroughly washed off her skin. But she would let him go first, he was her guest, after all.

  “Why? Are you saying that I smell bad?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.” Vanessa rolled her eyes at the boy. “You look like death and smell like you just crawled out of a dumpster.”

  “I was almost death,” he deadpanned.

Vanessa winced. “…Touché. Now do you want the first shower or not?”

  “Yes, please,” he said quickly, like he was worried that he’d lose his chance, and deposited his duffel bag on the floor near the couch.

  “Towels and washcloths are under the sink,” she told him. “Oh, and, um…” She grappled for the best way to phrase this without it coming off as weird. “You can keep your underwear, but if you want to leave the rest of your clothes by the washing machine, I can clean them for you, and I’ll lend you something to wear in the meantime.”

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, but mumbled an affirmation and disappeared into the bathroom.

With that dealt with, Vanessa ran a hand through her hair and let out a long breath. She had something else to face. She stepped down the hallway and turned the knob to her bedroom door.

At first glance, it looked somewhat-normal. Her bed (outfitted in a purple-plaid quilt and a few stuffed animals) had been left unmade since the last time she’d slept in it. A small bedside table next to it held a lamp, a sad withered succulent, and an expired bottle of melatonin gummies (thanks to the paranoia-induced insomnia that came with a serial killer living rent-free in your brain). Her closet held her preferred wardrobe of graphic tees, tank tops, and flannel shirts. A good majority of them were purple, as used to be her favourite colour. 

Keywords being “used to”. Her brain-mate had also seemed to have an affinity for purple. So she didn’t very much like the colour anymore.

That was about where the “normal person” stuff ended. A desk tucked in the corner held her computer, and every other last inch of the surface was covered in designs and prototypes for the  V.A.N.N.I. mask, along with frantic journal scribblings from the times she was in control.

Piled in another corner of the room was a stack of cardboard boxes.

Turns out, the thing in her head loved the concept of “Amazon”. He would take every opportunity to order whatever junk he felt like that day—using Vanessa’s credit card, of course. “But I was the one who got you your job, Vanny. Therefore, it is my money too!” Was his justification.

She knew at least one of the boxes held scrap fabric and supplies leftover from making her costume, and another held all the cleaning products you could ever need. Another, she was sure, held a selection of weaponry, mainly knives. The others were anybody’s guess, even after three years Vanessa was never able to fathom some of his whims.

Her dresser looked pretty normal too. But she knew what it held. When she opened up the bottom drawer it was mostly empty, with only a handful of seemingly random knick knacks rolling around at the bottom: a child-sized baseball hat, a small Chica toy, multiple hair clips, and a couple name tags, to name a few.

Reaching into her pockets, she pulled out another dozen items she had tucked there: a wedding ring, a monogrammed pen, a wristwatch…

Her gaze lingered on a wallet photo, featuring a father and a young girl, both having same coppery skin, curly hair, and bright grins. It had belonged to the nice technician.

The thing in her head had insisted on taking a memento from each life she snuffed out. She thought it was gruesome at the time—she still did, but at the same time she was now glad she had them. Each trinket signified a person, a person dead because of her. They would make sure she never forgot. Not that she ever could…

A tiny part of her wondered what she would have taken from Gregory. His Fazwatch, maybe?

   No, she shut down that thought before she could dwell on it. She unceremoniously dumped the rest of the trinkets into the drawer—nearly doubling her collection—and slammed it closed again.

  Focus, Vanessa! She squeezed her eyes shut and counted to ten. She hadn’t meant to get lost in thought again. The time for processing everything would come later. Right now, she needed to get everything ready for the child in her care.

  Push the thoughts back, tuck them away. She needed… she needed to get the sofa ready, she could start with that.

She found a spare set of sheets in her closet, so that, along with a couple of throw blankets and a pillow from her own bed and after a bit of tucking and fussing, made a comfy-looking nest for the boy on the couch.

Then came the issue of clothes. Gregory was petite, and Vanessa, at 5’8”, had a solid foot-and-a-half on the kid. None of her pants would fit him, even a pair of sweatpants with the drawstring pulled as tightly as it could.  So instead she opened up a drawer (not the bottom one) and rooted through some of her older t-shirts. These were her old, baggy graphic tees she mainly used as pyjamas. They were oversized on her, so they’d practically be a dress on the kid. It wasn’t the best solution, but it was all she could think of, and besides, it was only just until she could get his clothes cleaned up. She picked out a simple black one with a graphic of some old music group she used to like, figuring it was the best of the choices for him.

Hearing that the water was now off again, she gently knocked on the bathroom door. “Gregory? Are you out of the shower now?”

He gave a muffled “yeah” through the door.

  “I’ve got something here for you to wear, if you want me to pass it in.”

He opened the door ever so slightly, just enough for Vanessa to slip the t-shirt in through the crack.

  “Thank you,” he called out through the re-closed door.

A minute or two later, she heard his voice calling out from the bathroom again. “Um, Vanessa?”

  “Yeah? What’s up?”

  “Do I…” He paused. “Do I have to wear this…?”

Vanessa snickered quietly. “Well, I think I have a pink Care Bears one if you’d prefer…” She offered with faux-seriousness.

  “This ones fine!”

  “Thought so.” She grinned, then added in a softer tone, “I know it’s not the greatest, but it’s just until I can get your stuff cleaned. Is that okay?”

He was quiet for a second. “No, yeah, it’s fine. Sorry, I didn’t mean to be ungrateful or anything.”

  “No worries,” She assured him.

When Gregory came out of the washroom a minute later, he found Vanessa sitting on the floor in front of the couch. She was staring at something on the wall absently.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, seeming unsure if he should announce his present or just leave her be. She startled a bit and looked over at him, with his wet hair falling in his face and shirt that practically reached his knees. “Oh, hey, you’re out.” She looked away, wrapping her arms around her torso. “I was just… ah, never mind. I’ll go take my shower now. Need anything before I do?”

He shook his head.

  “Okay, well… make yourself at home, I guess? Call out if you need me.” She swallowed thickly and practically sprinted into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her harder than she’d meant.

She leaned against the door and slid down to the floor, taking deep breaths. She focused on the cool, damp tiles beneath her, trying to ground herself. She was being stupid. Irrational, she mentally berated herself. How the heck was she supposed to function like a normal damn human being if looking at the calendar on her wall nearly triggered a panic attack.

The calendar had said 2033.

It was 2035.

Big deal. It’s not as if it was yet another visual reminder of just how much of her life she’d lost to the virus or anything…

Ugh, she was such an idiot. And she probably worried the kid with how weird she’d acted in front of him, too.

She thought she could bottle up her anxiety, save the grief (was she even allowed to grieve when everything was her own damn fault?) for when she didn’t have a traumatised child in her (temporary) care. But even something so small as the date on a calendar threatened to crumble the fragile barriers she’d put up in her mind.

Needing something, anything to distract herself she quickly stripped and tossed her’s and Gregory’s clothes into the wash—making a point to avoid the mirror over the sink as she did, ever paranoid of finding that her eyes had taken on the unnatural violet hue that signified she wasn’t in control of her body anymore—then stepped into the shower. The water was practically scalding, but she didn’t care, she let the faint sting distract herself from her thoughts. She washed her hair three times, even if it wasn’t that greasy, and spent at least five minutes thoroughly scrubbing at her hands and around her cuticles and under her fingernails, trying to get rid of the chipped purple nail polish and the phantom sensation of blood coating her hands.

It worked for the former.

She stood under the water until it turned cold, and only then did she turn it off and step out of the stall.

Even if her body was, Vanessa didn’t feel any cleaner than before she went in.

As for Gregory, the afternoon passed… surprisingly peacefully, considering the circumstances. After Vanessa came out of the bathroom she walked by him with hardly a glance—mumbling something about knocking if he needed her—and disappeared into her bedroom.

Gregory frowned, and replayed in his head all his interactions with Vanessa up to this point, wondering if he’d done something to offend her, but he came up blank.

He tried to tell himself he didn’t care. Vanessa was just going to drop him off at social services tomorrow and they’d never lay eyes on eachother again. So… who cared if she was upset with him, he’d be outta her hair tomorrow. He’d be somebody else’s problem.

He then spent some time turning Freddy’s head over and over in his hands, examining the internet workings and trying to come up with a way to power him back on, but came up with nothing. His expertise was in software, not hardware.

Eventually he gave up on that and set Freddy’s head back down—with a whispered promise that he’d keep trying to find a way—and spent the rest of the afternoon dozing. That kind of half-sleep where time still passed quickly but he was still acutely aware of everything around him and when he finally woke up for real he didn’t feel any more well-rested than before.

Vanessa eventually re-emerged from her room. Her green eyes puffy but overall looking calmer than she had earlier.

  “Hey, kiddo, get some sleep in?” She asked, voice hoarse.

Gregory shrugged. That seemed to be his go-to response for most things.

  “Right, well…” She gestured to the clock on the microwave, the time reading 5:30. “I’m gonna make some supper now, anything you’d like in particular?”

  “Not pizza.” He wrinkled his nose.

It seems he shared her sentiments. “Amen to that,” she replied, then went to her kitchen and opened the fridge, before abruptly slamming it. She did the same to her cabinet. Right, haven’t been here in four months. “Scratch that,” she sighed. “Looks like we’re getting takeout again.”

Forty-five minutes later, Gregory was sitting down at the dinner table with Vanessa, a bowl of takeout spaghetti having been delivered for him, and a salad for Vanessa.

Gregory dug into his spaghetti with gusto. Not including the Happy Meal she’d gotten him earlier, it’d probably been a while since he’d had a proper, fresh meal.

Vanessa picked at her salad absently. The two of them were quiet for the first part of dinner, until she cleared her throat. “Hey, Gregory?”

  “Mhm?” He hummed through a mouthful of pasta.

  “Is it okay if I ask you a few questions? Like, about yourself?”

He swallowed his mouthful of food. “Um, I guess…?” He seemed surprised at her question, and narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

  “Just… trying to figure out what your deal is.” She gestured vaguely, then winced. “Sorry, that came off wrong. I’m just curious about a couple things, I suppose. You don’t have to answer any of my questions if they make you uncomfortable.”

  “Um, I guess that’s fine.” He laid down his plastic fork. “Ask away.”

  “Well, first of all, what is your name?”

  “Uh, Gregory…?”

  “I know that, dummy.” She rolled her eyes. “I meant like, last name.”

  “Oh. Torben.”

  “I see. How old are you?”

  “Eleven.”

   Jeez, he was small for his age. She didn’t say that out loud, of course.

  “Eleven, huh? So… how’d you get stuck inside the Pizzaplex in the first place?”

  “Snuck in,” he admitted. He acted sheepish but Vanessa could hear a hint of pride in his voice. “I just wanted some warm food and a place to chill for a bit. But then the glitch happened during the concert and everybody was getting evacuated and I was worried that I would be discovered so I hid inside Freddy’s stomach hatch and… well, you know the rest. Your security sucks, by the way.”

  “You hid inside his stomach hatch?!” Vanessa’s eyes widened. “The place that is reserved for—“

  “Oversized birthday cakes and piñatas? Mhm.”

  “Damn.” She didn’t know whether to be impressed at his bravery or baffled by his blatant disregard of common sense. “You’re hardcore, kid.”

  “Uh, thanks? I think?” A smile tugged at the corners of his sauce-stained lips

Curiosity got the best of her, she cleared her throat and asked the question she’d been the most curious of, “So, um… What's the deal with your parents?” She ventured hesitantly before quickly clarifying. “You, uh, don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to! I know it’s a pretty invasive—“

  “Dead. Happened when I was three,” he respondly bluntly.

  “O-Oh,” she said quietly. “Do you know how—”

  “Some sort of demolition accident. They had a construction firm together or something. I dunno the details.” He cut her off again.

  “Oh,” she said again. “I’m sorry—”

  “It’s fine, I don’t really remember them,” he snapped, then shrunk back in his chair. “I don’t get why people always say ‘sorry’ when I tell them that. It’s not their fault they died! Sometimes bad shit just happens to people for no reason,” he mumbled bitterly.

Vanessa could get where he was coming from, it was the same thing people had said to her when her mom— ah, nope, she wasn’t going to go down that rabbit hole right now.

  “Right. I’ll end the questions here then, I don’t want to upset you.” At least she had a better idea of his past now.

  “Okay.” He pushed his plate to the side and rested his elbows on the table, chin in his hands. “My turn.”

  “What?” Vanessa blinked at him, confused.

  “My turn,” he repeated, looking at her intently. “You asked me some questions, so it’s only fair I get to ask you some, right?”

  “I… guess that’s fair,” she conceded in surprise. “Ask away.”

  “Okay, your name?”

  “Vanessa…?” She replied with a cheeky grin.

  “Oh, come on! You know what I mean!” Gregory said, exasperated.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Vanessa chuckled at his indignation. “It’s Andrews. Vanessa Andrews. Why do you care, anyway?”

  “Just curious.” He shrugged. “How old are you, anyway?”

  “I’m…“

…

It was like Vanessa bluescreened. How old was she? She did the math in her head. “I’m… twenty-three?” That sounded about right.

  “Cool. So how long had you been brainwashed or whatever for?” He asked this as casually as one might ask about the weather, or other inconsequential thing.

She gaped at him. Seriously, kid? “Okay, wow, jumping into the hard questions, are we?”

  “You asked me how my parents died,” he retorted.

  “Yeah… fair point.” Vanessa averted her gaze and blew her bangs out of her face. “About… three years, I think,” she admitted.

  “Damn,” he said quietly, raising his brows.

Vanessa nodded, unsure how to respond.

  “How many did Vanny, y’know, ki—“

  “ AND that’s the end of quiz time!” She cut him off, slapping her hands together. “I just… don’t make me answer that, please,” she said quietly, looking away.

  “Right.” Gregory ducked his head. “Sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” she sighed, then picked up her fork and began absently stabbing at her salad. She knew the kid didn’t mean any harm, he was probably just curious.

That didn’t make the question any easier, though. “You should probably finish your pasta before it gets cold.”

Later, as they were cleaning up their empty plastic containers, Gregory tugged on her sleeve gently. “Um, Vanessa?”

  “Yeah? She turned to face him, noticing a faint apprehension on his face. “What’s up?”

  “I know I kinda just went on a rant about this, but…” He scratched the back of his neck. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Vanessa’s gaze softened. “Thank you, Gregory,” she murmured, an unfamiliar sensation blossoming in her chest.

Something about these sympathetic words from the scared, snarky little kid who’d freed her brought a feeling of lighthearted warmth she hadn’t felt since… well, since before everything .  As messed up as it was, they could relate to each other through their past traumas. She smiled down at him softly. “I’m sorry you had to go through what you did, too.”

Chapter Text

The mood the next morning was noticeably subdued. Despite her exhaustion, Vanessa didn’t get much sleep the night prior, and judging by Gregory’s bleary-eyed face, he didn’t either.

  “I just called the office, they know we’re coming.” Vanessa said, walking out of her room and setting her phone down.

He gave no indication that he heard her.

  “Come on, kiddo. We gotta leave soon,” she said, more gently this time.

He was sitting on the sofa, knees drawn up to his chin, half-ready to go, staring at nothing. He was dressed back in his regular clothes, now cleaned (although they were still covered in rips, holes, and stains the washing machine couldn’t quite get out).

  “Wash your face and brush your hair. We’ll get breakfast on the way, okay?”

He nodded mutely and slipped off the couch—quietly groaning as he did, the various injuries he'd accumulated were bothering him that morning—and into the bathroom to finish getting ready.

Vanessa hated having to do this. She knew he did not want to go back to the foster care system, but he knew as well as she did that that was just the way things were, and how they had to be.

While he was doing that, Vanessa busied herself with trying to make herself presentable. As much as she just wanted to throw on a t-shirt and sweatpants and call it good, she wanted to look at least somewhat competent to the social workers, as it was technically illegal to bring the kid back to her house yesterday. She needed to make a good impression. Eventually she decided on a mint green blouse and black leggings, with some concealer for the deep circles under her eyes so she didn’t look like a total zombie. Her hair she just threw back into her usual ponytail.

When she emerged from her room, she found the boy sitting back on the couch, duffel bag slung on his shoulder and Freddy’s powered-down head in his lap.

  “Time to get your shoes on, kid.” Vanessa told him as she passed, grabbing her pair of sandals from the entryway and slipping them on.

He didn’t move. “Gregory?” Vanessa asked, slightly concerned now. He was just staring at her silently. “Is something wrong?”

He jumped, her voice snapping him out of whatever trance he was in. He looked back at Vanessa again. “Um… Vanessa?” He said quietly, and swallowed nervously. “Could you… could I ask you a favour…?”

  “Of course.” Vanessa walked over and sat herself on the couch next to the boy. “What’s up?”

  “Freddy, he…” He stared down at the head in his lap. “He said he didn’t want to go back to the Pizzaplex, he said he wanted to stay with me. I want that. I want that more than anything! But… he doesn’t know how this kinda stuff works. If I take him with me, I could get in trouble for ‘stealing’ him, or somebody could take him away and sell him for profit or—” He blinked rapidly, trying to keep tears at bay. “So… could—could you take care of him?” He held Freddy’s head out to her with shaking hands.

  “Oh, Gregory…” She whispered, and carefully took the head from him. “Of course I can. You still have your Fazwatch, right?”

He nodded with a sniffle.

  “I’ll find a way to power him back on, then you guys can stay in touch through your watch.”

Gregory looked up at her, a hopeful expression beginning to replace his sad one. “Do you… do you really mean that?”

  “I do.” She laid Freddy’s head down on the coffee table and held out her pinky finger to the boy. “I’ll even pinky promise.”

He chuckled weakly and wrapped his own smaller pinky around Vanessa’s. “T-Thank you.”

  “No problem, kid,” she said with a smile. “I’ll keep the big guy safe for you. Ready to go now?”

He nodded, and gave Freddy’s head one last hug before he followed Vanessa to the door.

On the drive to the social services office, Vanessa spoke up. “If anybody asks, I found you hiding behind my apartment building’s dumpster when I got home from work yesterday, and ‘took pity on you’,” she said using air quotes, “and let you stay the night. You were never at the Pizzaplex, got it?”

  “M’kay,” he said quietly, staring out the window. A bagel sat untouched in his lap.

  “You’re gonna need to come up with an excuse for your injuries as well.” Ugh, was she really asking this kid to lie just to save her own skin?

   “M’kay,” he said again, not meeting her gaze in the rear view mirror. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done that.”

Vanessa’s heart stuttered. Just what had this kid gone through in his life? Frowning, she turned her full attention back to the road, following the directions from her phone’s GPS. Not my problem, she tried to convince herself. I’ll probably never see him again after this. It’s not my problem.

But why did that just make her feel even more miserable?

  “Well, well, well, what do we have here?” A chipper, red-headed social worker with large round glasses greeted them at the door. “If it isn’t our resident troublemaker, Gregory!” She said with a smile, as if Gregory didn’t visibly sag at her words.

  “Hi, Mrs. Shelly,” he mumbled to the floor.

  “You gave us all quite the scare with your latest stunt, you know. Two weeks, that must be a new record for you! The police had a big team out searching for you. We thought you skipped town for good!”

He didn’t respond, so the social worker turned to Vanessa. “And you must be Miss Andrews! The one who called him in?”

  “Yes, that is correct.” She accepted her outstretched hand and shook it with what she hoped was a friendly smile.

  “Well, we appreciate it very much. I hope he was not too much trouble for you?”

  “Oh, no, no, not at all!” Vanessa rested a hand on Gregory’s head gently. “He’s a great kid,” she said earnestly.

  “Hmm,” was the social worker's only response. “Well, if you two could follow me, we can get this whole situation straightened out in a flash.”

She led them into an office that had three chairs lined up against the wall, a work desk in one corner, and a few children’s toys and books set up in another corner to entertain any younger kid that had to wait. The walls were a pale yellow in colour, and a vase of brightly-coloured flowers sat on the desk. All in all, it reminded Vanessa uncomfortably of a therapist’s office, something she was all too familiar with.

In the room as well was another lady, presumably another social worker, this one looked to be middle-aged, as opposed to the red-headed social worker who couldn’t be any more than a few years older than Vanessa herself. This social worker also seemed significantly less cheerful than the first, her curly dark hair pulled up into a pristine bun and her lips set in a grim line.

  “I suppose we should introduce ourselves,” the red-headed one said, shutting the door behind them. “My name’s Shelly, I’m the social worker assigned to Gregory’s case. And this,” she gestured to the stern-looking lady beside her, “is Naomi, she’s the social worker assigned to Mrs. O’Leary’s case, who is Gregory’s current foster parent.”

  “Nice to meet you,” the stern-looking social worker—Naomi—said, unsmiling, and extended a hand for Vanessa to shake, which she accepted.

  “It is a pleasure to meet you both, too,” Vanessa replied. Truth be told, the social workers vaguely intimidated her. She almost felt like they were examining her every move, and one slip up and they’d be able to tell everything she’d done and— Breathe, Vanessa, she told herself. She wasn’t about to start spiralling here. “You can just call me Vanessa, please,” she managed to choke out.

  “Please, have a seat.” The redheaded one, Shelly, gestured to the chairs behind them. “Mrs. O’Leary should be here any minute, then we can get this straightened out.”

  “Speaking of, I should go to the front to greet her. Excuse me for a moment.” Naomi walked past and slipped out of the office.

Vanessa sat down on the uncomfortable metal-and-pleather chair, sitting up straight and folding her hands in her lap, in hopes of looking somewhat like a well-adjusted adult.

Gregory, on the other hand, was hunched over like a shrimp, apparently trying to make himself as small as possible. His duffel bag was resting on his knees, and he was fidgeting with its zipper.

  “So, Gregory,” Shelly knelt down in front of the boy, trying to drum up conversation with him. “I see you have a bandaid on your cheek. Wanna tell me what happened?”

  “Fell out of a tree.” He didn’t hesitate to answer, still not looking up. It seemed like he had that answer ready to go. Heck, for all Vanessa knew, it could’ve been the truth.

  “Hmm.” She hummed, and reached out and grabbed his arm. “And what about this set of marks here?” She said, running her thumb over the scabbed-over set of claw-like puncture marks on his forearm.

  “…Angered a wild grouse,” he muttered, and twisted his arm out of her grasp.

Shelly dropped her hand, obviously recognizing that the boy wanted some space. She got up and sat in her desk chair. “Well, it sounds like you had quite the adventure,” she remarked.

At that moment, the door opened again, and in walked Naomi, followed by another woman.

Vanessa’s initial thoughts about the woman was that she did not look pleasant. She was a bony, sour-faced woman, maybe in her mid-late 40s, with a sharp jawline and highlighted hair in a cut that screamed “Karen”. Her lips were coloured in a dark purplish lipstick and set in a tight line, and her heavy-lidded, excessively eyelined-eyes were looking down at Gregory with what could only be described as disdain.

  “Hello, Gregory.” She said his name with the same infliction you might use when talking about a mangy dog.

  “Hi, Mrs. O’Leary,” Gregory barely whispered.

Her mouth quirked into an almost-sneer. “My eyes are up here, boy,” she reprimanded, then sat herself on the chair next to him, situating Gregory between herself and Vanessa.

The energetic social worker, Shelly, cleared her throat. “It is nice to see you again, Mrs. O’Leary, though I wish it was under different circumstances,” she said, her grin now looking somewhat-forced. “Well, if everybody’s here, we should go ahead and get started. Mrs. O’Leary, this is Miss Andrews, the lady who found Gregory.” She gestured to Vanessa. “Miss Andrews, this is Mrs. O’Leary, Gregory’s current foster mother.”

Mrs. O’Leary gave Vanessa a quick once-over, and she tried not to flinch under the unpleasant woman’s scrutiny. “Hello there,” she said with a sniff. “I suppose I should thank you for finding that child, although…” she leaned over to Vanessa and whispered, “I almost wish you hadn’t, eh?” She said this almost as if they were sharing a joke.

Vanessa could do nothing except let out a nervous chuckle in response and try to hide her discomfort because what the hell, how dare this woman talk about a child like this as if there was anything amusing about it AND in the presence of said child, no less.

“That child” pulled himself even tighter into a ball, as if he could disappear from this situation if he made himself appear tiny enough.

  “To begin,” Shelly said, drawing everybody's attention back to herself, “I would like to hear the full story from Gregory, about where you’ve been and where Vanessa here found you. And Vanessa, feel free to chime in with your side of the story as well. We’d like to get a full picture here.”

Gregory gave a short, mumbled response about climbing out the window in the middle of the night and hiding away in various alleys and corners of the city, up until yesterday where he was found by Vanessa behind her apartment building’s dumpsters, who took him in for the night and washed his clothes and patched up his cuts.

Vanessa corroborated this, and talked about how she recognized that calling Gregory into the police right away would have been the proper thing to do, however she could not bear to abandon the child in such a state, and therefore let him stay with her until the morning.

Shelly tapped her pen on her desk thoughtfully. “While you are correct in saying that the correct thing to do would have been to contact the police right away, you making sure that the boy was fed and safe was a very decent thing to do. So although what you did was technically illegal, I think we can let it slide because your intentions were good.”

Vanessa let out an internal sigh of relief, a heavy weight off from her shoulders. The last thing she wanted was to be charged for child abduction or some crap.

  “I think that is about all we needed you for, Vanessa. You’re free to go, we’ll handle the rest with Mrs. O’Leary here,” Shelly said, standing up to escort Vanessa out the door.

But before Vanessa could even think about leaving, Mrs. O’Leary interjected. “I’m not taking him back.”

Everybody turned to look at her.

Naomi, Mrs. O’Leary’s social worker, replied with a forced smile. “I understand that you’re upset with him, ma’am, but is there any particular reason you feel that he is not a good fit for your home anymore?”

  “What reason isn’t there?” Mrs. O’Leary raised an eyebrow. “He’s been nothing but trouble since the moment he stepped through my door. I’ve tried my best to understand him, you know,” she said with a sigh that dripped with faux-sympathy. “I took him in out of the goodness of my heart, hoping that I might make an acceptable surrogate mother for this poor, lost child.”

  “More like for the monthly cheques,” Gregory mumbled under his breath.

  “What did you just say to me, boy?”

He cringed. “…Nothing.”

Mrs. O’Leary stared at him. “See what I mean?” She rounded on the social workers, pointing a bony finger towards Gregory, on a roll now. “He’s ungrateful, he’s sly, he always completely disregards any of the rules I set in place for him—very reasonable ones, I might add. And when I do finally put my foot down and ground him? He jumps out of his window and runs away! What’s more, the next morning, after I found him missing, I also discovered numerous items of mine had disappeared as well! Can you believe that?”

  “It was only food! I was hungry…” He whispered, but his pleas went unacknowledged.

  “I have discussed this at length with my husband, and we have decided that we absolutely cannot have a child like this in our home any longer.” Mrs. O’Leary finished, folding her hands together primly.

Vanessa stared at the woman, appalled. For once, she could sympathise with Vanny. She had half a mind to flay this vile excuse of a woman with a rusty screwdriver herself.

  “Okay ma’am,” Naomi replied after a long beat of silence, pulling Vanessa away from her violent daydreams. “If that is how you feel, we can begin the process now to relinquish him from your care.” She rustled in a folder for some paperwork.

  “Good riddance,” Mrs. O’Leary sneered, quiet enough that it wasn’t caught by the social workers, and accepted the papers and pen.

Shelly sighed, exchanging a glance with the other social worker. “I’ll see if I can find somewhere else for him to go. Truth be told, we’re running out of foster parents willing to take a child like him. I suppose he’ll have to go back to the group home for the time being…”

Their discussion faded to a faint buzz in Vanessa’s ears. She was stunned at the way they were talking about him. She looked over at Gregory. He was looking down, his fringe was obscuring his face, and his hands were gripping his duffel bag and shaking. You could tell he was trying his best to be strong, and his mouth was set in mute resignation except for the telltale wobbling of his lower lip.

Gone was the snarky, brave child who single-handedly dismantled three killer animatronics and evaded a murderer. All that remained was a lonely, scared, misunderstood boy whom life had repeatedly tried to beat down.

Something snapped inside of her.

With more certainty than anything she had ever said in her life, she spoke up. “I’ll take him.”

Everybody in the room turned to stare at Vanessa, seemingly having forgotten that she was in the room in the first place. Including Gregory, who was looking up at her, his mouth in a perfect O shape. Vanessa was even surprised at herself.

Shelly was the first to snap out of her surprise, and cleared her throat. “While we appreciate your generosity… with all due respect, ma’am, I do not believe you are registered to be a foster parent.”

  “You said it yourself, there was nobody else willing to take him in.” Vanessa was standing now, clenching her hands to her sides to prevent them from shaking. She didn’t know why she was so passionate about this all of a sudden, or even if she had the means to do it. All she knew is that she could not let this child go back to a place where he was treated like this, like a problem. “Well, I am willing. Whatever I need to do to become a foster parent, I’ll do it. Right now.”

The two social workers looked at each other for a moment, seeming unsure on how to proceed. They came to some sort of silent agreement. “Mrs. O’Leary, if you would follow me, we can finish this process in my office.” Naomi said.

The two women turned and left without another glance. Vanessa could feel Gregory unstiffen ever so slightly next to her the moment his ex-foster mother left the room.

Shelly crossed her legs and leaned forwards, addressing Vanessa seriously. “Becoming a foster parent is a big commitment, this is not something you should jump into lightly.”

  “I know, and I am wholeheartedly prepared for that.” What are you doing!? Part of Vanessa’s brain shouted at her. You’re not even safe to be anywhere near kids, let alone fostering one! Do you ever know the first thing about taking care of a child? She pushed those thoughts to the back of her head. “What do I need to do?”

  “Well, for starters, we’ll need you to fill out a form and submit a background check. Once that is approved, you’ll be able to indicate what types of kids you’d be willing to foster, such as a certain age range, if you can handle children with special needs, and so on. Although, in your case, it appears you have your heart set on a specific child.” She nodded towards Gregory, who was still staring at Vanessa in stunned silence. “Then you’ll need to have a home inspection done, and we strongly advise parenting classes as well.”

  “How soon can I complete this process?”

  “Usually, the entire process for getting approved takes around two-to-six months.” Vanessa’s heart sank. “But,” Shelly continued, “you are correct in saying that we are running out of options for the boy. I am willing to expedite the process for your case, assuming you meet the qualifications as outlined on the application.” She handed some paperwork and a pen to Vanessa.

It was a questionnaire, with the basic questions such as her name, gender, date-of-birth, marital status, and so on. Vanessa faltered when she got to the “employment status” question.

  “Uh, ma’am?” Vanessa questioned sheepishly. “What do I write down if I actually just quit my job?”

  “Depends, are you currently in the process of looking for another job, or do you expect you’ll be unemployed for a while?” Shelly inquired.

  “In the process of looking,” Vanessa lied. “I am highly qualified and have no worries about my ability to secure another job in a timely fashion. Additionally, I am financially secure enough to be able to support both myself and Gregory for the time being, should the process take longer than expected.” Idiot! You don’t even know how much is in your bank account!

  “I see. In that case, you may write ‘Job transfer in progress’.”

Vanessa did as she was told, and paused again when she got to the question about “place of residence”. Gregory can’t sleep on the couch forever... “Uh,” she thought quickly. “I’m actually in the process of moving right now, can I leave that question blank for the time being?”

Shelly hummed in thought. If the social worker thought it strange that Vanessa just so happened to be both looking for a new job and moving at the same time, she didn’t say. “You can leave it blank for now, but know we cannot proceed with the process without a valid place of residence and a home inspection.”

  “That’s fine,” Vanessa said quickly. “I should have a new place by the end of the week,” she lied again confidently. Vanessa, are you crazy?! Why did you say that why did you say that why—

Vanessa hastily filled out the rest of the form and handed it back to the social worker.

She gave it a once-over, and evidently it was good enough as she nodded and filed the form away.

  “All we need now is a background check and a home inspection. We can skip the childcare classes if you can prove you have experience with kids.”

  “I worked two years as the security guard in a children’s entertainment complex, and frequently had to interact with kids as part of my daily duties.” Yeah, interact with them with a knife! Her mind accused. No, shut up, shut up—! “I also babysat for a number of children when I was teenager.” At least that part wasn’t entirely a lie.

  “That’s good enough for us.” Shelly nodded. “You will, of course, have to consent to weekly check-ins for you and Gregory, at least for the first couple months.”

Vanessa nodded in assent.

Shelly handed her a business card. “It’s Sunday, so it cannot be done today, but we’d like that background check as soon as possible. And give us a call when you have your new home.”

  “Yes, yes, I’ll do both of that!” Vanessa said earnestly, pocketing the card. “How soon will I be able to take Gregory home?”

  “If everything goes through, we can bring him over next Monday.” Shelly smiled. “He will have to go back to the group home in the interim, of course.” She tapped away at her computer, then stood up. “Well, it’s been a pleasure talking to you, Vanessa, I wish you luck in your foster care journey. I must warn you, though,” she lowered her voice, “Gregory is known to have some… behavioural issues. He has run away from just about every foster home in the past four years, and struggles to connect with his peers, sometimes resulting to physical conflict. Are you certain you’re capable of caring for a high-maintenance child such as himself?”

Vanessa’s heart pinched. They were talking about him as if he was simply a problem that needed solving , or an issue that needed to be dealt with, not a child who just wants a place he can feel safe and loved! What’s worse, Gregory was in the room with them still, and despite Shelly lowering her voice, Vanessa knew damn well that Gregory could hear every word of what she was saying.

She took a deep breath to settle the anger that had bubbled up in her and tried her hardest not to glare daggers at the social worker as she replied. “I am aware of all that, and I will do whatever it takes to ensure Gregory is happy, healthy, and as comfortable as he can be in my care.”

  “I’ll certainly say you’ve got the proper attitude for being a foster parent,” Shelly remarked with a smile. She clapped her hands together. “Shoot me an email when you’ve got that background check and your new place, and you’re free to go for now. I’ll work on getting Gregory back to the group home.”

  “Wait!” Gregory piped up. He’d been quiet for the duration of this interaction, but was now looking between the social worker and Vanessa hesitantly, an unreadable expression on his face. “Can I— can I talk to Vanessa before she goes? Please?”

Shelly nodded. “I don’t see why not. Not too long, though, I’m sure Vanessa has lots she needs to do today.” She turned back to her computer to give them the space to talk, though Vanessa was sure she was still listening.

She whirled back to Gregory quickly. “I’m sorry!” She blurted in a whisper. “I should have talked to you before I offered to foster you I completely understand if you don’t want anything to do with me especially after everything I—”

  “Did you… did you really mean it?” Gregory cut her off, lower lip trembling.

  “Mean what?”

  “That you were willing to take me.”

Vanessa could feel her heart shatter into a million tiny fragments. He sounded so… disbelieving, as if the mere idea that somebody would want to take him was something unthinkable; something irrational or undesirable. “Of course I meant it,” she replied, trying her best to smile at the boy despite the tidal wave of emotions flooding her head. “I’ll come back for you, you don’t need to face this alone.”

  “Why?” He insisted. “How do I know I can trust you? How do I know you won’t just abandon me like everybody else?”

  “You can’t,” Vanessa admitted gently. “You have absolutely no reason to trust me. But I promise you, every word of what I said was true. You are worth it.” She reached out and grabbed his shoulders lightly. He was crying now, and Vanessa could feel her own eyes filling with tears. “And if you can’t trust me, trust Freddy. I’ll make sure you two are reunited again.”

She pulled the shaking boy into a hug, wrapping her arms around him lightly, so that he could pull away if he wanted. He didn’t.

  “Do you promise?” He sniffled into her shoulder.

  “I promise,” Vanessa vowed in a whisper, rubbing his back gently. “I’ll come back for you, kiddo.”

Chapter Text

  “What. Did. You. Just. Do.” Vanessa groaned at herself, banging her head against her steering wheel. Didn’t matter if she wasn’t being puppeteered by some crazy rabbit virus anymore, she truly felt as though she’d lost her marbles. She was sitting in her car, still in the parking lot of the social services office, trying to process what the hell she just did. “You just offered to be the guardian to a traumatised child you met yesterday.” She banged her head against the steering wheel again, jumping with a curse when it set off the horn. She sat up straight and pulled out of the parking lot before she could get in trouble for loitering.

She was an idiot if she thought she could be a suitable caretaker for this kid, he deserved so much better, Vanessa thought as she drove. She didn’t even know why she did it. Guilt? Pity? Because he single-handedly saved her life?

But despite all the uncertainty, the anxiety, the self-loathing, and the stress, one thing she did not feel was regret.

She did not regret her decision for one moment.

Because she made a promise to that kid, and she’d be damned if she broke it.

   But honestly, the more pragmatic side of her thought while paused at a red light. You’ve dun goofed, Vanessa.

It was true. She’d told the social worker she’d be able to support both herself and Gregory while searching for a job (and getting a new job was the last thing on Vanessa’s mind just a couple hours ago!) yet she didn’t even know how much was in her bank account. Not only that, she gave herself a deadline of six days to find, get approved for, and move into a new place.

Oh yeah, she was screwed.

But she was going to do her best, he was counting on her.

After pulling into her parking spot at her apartment building, the first thing she did was open up the banking app on her phone, crossing her fingers that she had some money.

Finally, it loaded, and she could let out a sigh of relief. She was fine, she had more money than she’d anticipated. Then again, she reasoned, it’s not like her living costs have been very high the past couple months, what with living at the Pizzaplex and all. The hush-money from Fazbear Entertainment certainly contributed too. She did the math in her head. Between rent, food for two people, the new furniture and stuff she’d need to purchase for Gregory, she should have enough to get by for a couple months if she struggled to find a job. Plus, she reminded herself, she’d be getting monthly cheques for fostering him.

With her financial situation sorted out, Vanessa pocketed her phone and got out of her car, heading into her apartment.

The first thing she noticed when she stepped through the door was how empty it felt suddenly. Vanessa didn’t understand why. Gregory had only been there for less than twenty-four hours, and she’d been living on her own for years (unless she counted the thing in her head as a roommate, which she opted to ignore completely).

The kid just seemed to have a way of brightening up a space.

  Focus, Vanessa. She sat down on her sofa and rubbed her temples. What could she do right now to start getting ready? She couldn’t get her background check done as it was a weekend. Not that that super worried her, Vanny was very careful in covering her tracks. Maybe she could search for some apartment listings? Yes, that would probably be the best thing… but what else? What did a kid need? How are you supposed to care for one? Beyond those couple dumb questions she’d asked him yesterday, she didn’t know Gregory.

She lifted her head, and her gaze fell on the orange animatronic bear head sitting on her coffee table.

Freddy was quite literally designed to take care of kids, or at the very least know the basics of handling them. And he seemed to know Gregory quite well.

If only she could talk to him.

   Hmm… An idea occurred to her.

Maybe she could.

Vanessa plopped down in her desk chair, swiping the remnants of junk from making the masks to the side to clear a space, and plunked Freddy’s head down on the work mat. She turned it over in her hands for a moment, examining the inner-workings of the head. The Glamrocks were designed with a secondary power reserve in their head in the event that they couldn’t get to a charging station on time, giving them some leeway so they wouldn’t just keel over in front of guests. She could see the battery, but no external way to charge it.

She could fix that.

She rummaged around in her closet for a moment, and pulled out an old, broken cellphone. It’d bit the dust a couple years ago, but it was the kinda thing she just never got around to properly disposing of, so she’d kept it. Now, she was glad that she did.

With a bit of elbow grease, sweat, and a few mumbled curses, she was able to pry the cracked screen off and salvage the charging port.

Vanessa wasn’t an engineer by any means, but Vanny, on the other hand, had plenty of experience tampering with robotics.

She let muscle memory take over, and haphazardly soldered the charging port to the base of Freddy’s head, wiring it to his battery. It wasn’t the prettiest electrical job, but hopefully, maybe, it would do the trick.

  Moment of truth, she laid Freddy’s head down on her bed and plugged him in using her phone charger. She didn’t know how long he would take to charge, or if was even gonna work, so she decided she’d give it an hour, and if he hadn’t powered on by then she’d have to come up with another solution. In the meantime, she got started on looking for apartment listings.

  “Not soon enough… that one’s too small… ugh, this one is way too expensive…” Vanessa grumbled to herself, scrolling through rental sites. She was so engrossed in what she was doing that she didn’t notice the faint whirring and mechanical clicks coming from her bed.

  “Detecting modification to secondary power bank. Systems 72% functional.” A voice pulled Vanessa’s attention away.

  “Ah shi—!” Vanessa jumped, desk chair skidding halfway across the room. “Freddy! You’re awake,” she exclaimed, clutching at her chest. “ Christ, you scared me.”

  “Officer Vanessa?” Freddy blinked up at her a couple times. “My apologies, but… where am I? Where is Gregory?”

  “We’re at my apartment. Gregory, he’s, uhm… he’s not here.”

  “What do you mean ‘not here’?!” Freddy half-shouted, panicked. “Where is he? Is he safe? What did you do to him?!”

  “Hey, hey, no, no, no,” she sputtered hastily, waving her hands in front of Freddy in an attempt to calm him down. “Gregory—he’s, he’s fine, I swear, just… let me explain.”

  “But where is he?” Freddy insisted. “Why am I not with him?”

Vanessa grabbed her desk chair and pulled it up next to her bed, sitting on it backwards with her arms resting on the backrest. “Let me start from the beginning,” she sighed. “You’ve been powered off for about a day. After I left the Pizzaplex yesterday, I took you and Gregory back to my apartment with me. I gave him some food, let him take a shower, gave him my sofa to sleep on, y’know, made sure he was alright and all that. This morning, I called the social work office and took him back.”

  “You took him back?” Freddy whispered, grief evident even on his static face. “But I… I promised I would stay with him.”

Vanessa nodded. “I know, and Gregory knew that as well. But realistically you couldn’t, as if anybody saw you he could get into trouble for ‘stealing you’, so… he asked if I could take care of you. Or, at least, that was the plan.”

Freddy was still frowning, but he stayed quiet to let Vanessa continue.

  “Then when we got to the social work office and I…I dunno. I could tell how upset he was there and I just… I couldn’t bear to leave him.” Taking a deep breath, she dropped the bombshell. “So I offered to foster him.”

Freddy stared at her for a moment, quiet. She could see the gears—quite literally—turning in his head. “You offered to become Gregory’s legal guardian?” He questioned for clarification.

Vanessa nodded. “Yeah, but… that’s kinda what I wanted to talk to you about. I don’t know a damn thing about caring for a kid, Freddy,” she admitted. “You’re a children’s entertainment animatronic, surely you’re programmed with at least some knowledge.”

Freddy appeared to ponder this. “I am aware of the basic biological necessities for a child, such as frequent meals, a good night’s sleep, a proper hygiene routine, and at least an hour of physical exertion per day,” he recited dutifully. “But beyond that… I am afraid I am just as clueless as you, Officer Vanessa. We animatronics were not programmed with parental instincts, to avoid us potentially playing favourites amongst the guests.”

  “You don’t play favourites, huh?” Vanessa smirked at him.

  “Well, er, I…” Freddy stammered sheepishly. “My programming is… merely a suggestion at times. Gregory is a… special case.”

  “Yeah,” Vanessa agreed softly. “He is.”

Freddy hummed thoughtfully. “Why don’t you treat him the way your parents did?”

  “My dad sucked,” she replied bluntly, brows furrowed into a frown. “As for my mom, I never really got to know her.”

  “Oh,” Freddy replied, sounding sad. They were both quiet for a moment. “Then why don’t you treat him the way you wish you were treated?”

She thought about this for a moment. “I… guess I could do that,” she nodded slowly. It wasn’t a horrible idea. She was surprised at how intuitive Freddy could be.

Desperate to change the subject, she asked, “How’s your new charging port?”

  “It appears to be working! My battery is currently at 22% charge, going up at an average rate of 0.5% per minute. Did you install it? Thank you.”

She waved him off. “It’s no problem, I promised that I would.”

  “Does Gregory still have his Faz-Watch?” Freddy asked suddenly.

  “As far as I know, yes—” Vanessa realised what Freddy was trying to do. “Wait, don’t message him!”

  “Why should I not?” Freddy looked up at her in surprise.

  “Because I don’t know where he is or if he could be being monitored right now. No offence, but if somebody saw him getting directly messaged by Freddy Fazbear, it could raise a whole lot of suspicion.”

  “I suppose that makes sense.” Freddy conceded, though his ears drooped sadly.

  “I know you wanna talk to him, but until we know for sure, you can’t. Besides…” Vanessa scratched the back of her neck awkwardly. “I was kinda hoping it could be a surprise for him.”

  “A surprise?”

  “Yeah, I mean, he doesn’t know that I powered you back on, so… I was thinking that it could stay as a surprise for when he arrives.”

  “Oh! I see! I will look forward to that, then!” Freddy chuckled. “Do you know when he’s coming?”

  “If everything goes well, next Monday.”

He spaced out, checking his internal clock. “That is eight days away,” he stated.

  “Correct.” Vanessa nodded, and dragged her chair back over to her desk. “So I’ve gotta get ready for him.”

The two fell silent. Vanessa scrolling on her computer, and Freddy seemingly lost in thought.

  “What are you doing?” He asked curiously, looking over at her computer after a couple minutes.

  “Trying to find a new place to live, this apartment isn’t big enough for Gregory to move into,” Vanessa sighed. “It’s not going well, though.”

  “Oh.”

Another few minutes passed before he piped up again. “Vanessa?”

  “Yeah?” She peeled her gaze from the screen, looking over at him. “What’s up?”

  “You said we are inside your place of residence?” He began, an odd expression on his face.

  “Mhm, why?”

He paused, considering this. “I am outside of the Pizzaplex.”

Vanessa blinked. “Uh, yeah, you are. Is this your first time?”

  “I know I was manufactured in a different facility before getting shipped to the Pizzaplex. And I have been in the parking lot on a few rare occasions,” he told her.

Vanessa stood up, and walked back over to him. “Would you like to look out the window?” She asked, holding her hands out. She figured it would be polite to ask before just picking up his head.

Freddy’s ears wagged. “I would like that very much, if it is no trouble.”

She carted him over to the windowsill, and with her free hand pulled open the curtains.

Sunshine poured into her bedroom. It was a beautiful September afternoon, a few puffy white clouds drifting across the sky. Vanessa’s apartment was on the 5th floor of her building, and had a pretty decent view of downtown Hurricane. Being early September, the trees still had their summertime bright green hue. Sunlight sparkled off the chrome and glass of the surrounding skyscrapers, and glimmered on the river that snaked through the town off to the side from where they were. A grassy strip lined either side of the river, where families could be seen having picnics and enjoying the sunny September weather.

Freddy didn’t say anything at first. Vanessa could see his eyes readjust to the sudden influx of light into their space, then flick back and forth, taking everything in. “The outside world is… big,” he murmured, eyes sparkling. “Conceptually, I knew it was, of course. But this is… it is unlike anything I had ever imagined. It is beautiful.”

  “Yeah,” Vanessa whispered, taking in the scenery herself. “It is beautiful, isn’t it?”

Beauty wasn’t a word Vanessa had used to describe any aspect of her life in years. But Freddy was right, it was beautiful, and she wasn’t just talking about the scenery. She might still feel irrevocably broken, utterly irredeemable, but she was free, it was a gorgeous day, and she had something to fight for; to live on for, despite everything.

So yes, it was beautiful.

Vanessa’s heart felt fuller than it had in a long, long while.

She still had work to be done, but she let herself ignore it for the time being, and sat there with Freddy staring out the window for a long time in mutually content silence.

The rest of the week passed quickly. Too quickly, if you asked Vanessa.

She’d gotten up bright and early the next day to get her background check done. It came back spotless. She knew it would, but it was still nerve-wracking.

Every single moment of her days she spent getting ready for Gregory. She watched hours upon hours of YouTube videos on how to be a good foster parent, she went shopping to get stuff for him such as toiletries, bedding and furniture for his (eventual) new room, and anything else she thought he might need. She wanted to pick out some clothes for him too, but she didn’t know what he liked so she just got the basics like underwear and socks (Freddy helpfully gauged that Gregory was probably a kid’s size 8-10). Late into the nights were spent staring at her computer screen, scouring just about every rental listing in Hurricane. She’d go to bed only when she was so thoroughly exhausted that she’d start nodding off on her keyboard and would fall asleep so deeply she didn’t have to worry about nightmares plaguing her.

Freddy was there to gently remind her to take care of herself, like to eat and drink something other than her numerous cups of coffee.

She was slowly getting used to the presence of Freddy in her space. It was still weird, sure, but he was a surprisingly good companion. Sometimes they would just sit and talk—usually about Gregory—but sometimes other things, too. At one point the virus was brought up. And as far as she could tell, he didn’t remember that he, too, had been…

She quickly diverted the topic, Freddy had enough to deal with at the moment. That was a conversation they’d have to have at another time.

Speaking of Freddy, she could tell that he was beginning to get antsy. The novelty of being outside of the Pizzaplex had begun to wane, and as Vanessa couldn’t bring him with her whenever she went out to run errands, he spent most of his time sitting on a chair or table doing nothing.

In the Pizzaplex he’d had a set routine to follow, always a birthday needing attending or a song needing singing, and the loss of that daily structure coupled with his loss of a body seemed to be leaving him feeling useless and, well, lost. You wouldn’t hear him complain, though.

Despite his initial agreement to the situation, Freddy also couldn’t help but ask again about sending Gregory a message numerous times throughout that week, of which Vanessa always had to refuse, much to Freddy’s disappointment.

She began clearing out her stuff, too. Vanessa truthfully didn’t own too much stuff, so she’d be taking most all of it with her. She did, though, have her former brain-mate’s hoard of online purchases to contend with. She just kinda… tuned out her emotions, and spent an afternoon sorting through the boxes as if their contents meant nothing to her. Most of it went straight into the dumpster, even if they were technically still good. She just couldn’t muster up the energy to properly deal with it.

Some stuff she did end up saving, such as the assortment of electrical tools and trinkets, she could use those if Freddy ever needed more repairs. She also, for whatever ungodly reason, found a stash of fidget toys. She kept those, too, as maybe Gregory would like them.

And although she had expected it, finding the stash of spare fabric leftover from making her fursuit wasn’t easy for her. Yards of soft fleece in white and shades of pale grey and brown, plus some scraps of cornflower-blue satin from the bow. Even just touching the material sent repulsed shivers down her spine.

She ended up donating it to a local group of ladies that made blankets for the NICU, who seemed exceedingly grateful towards her. Vanessa was glad that the material might be used for some good now.

It wasn’t until Thursday that she had any luck in her apartment search.

She didn’t even find it on one of the rental sites. Rather, it was a small advertisement tucked inside the morning paper. Very little information on the house was listed, but Vanessa was desperate, so she called the number.

She was able to meet with the landlord and take a tour of the house that same afternoon.

Vanessa was afraid to admit it to herself, for fear it wouldn’t work out, but the house was perfect. It was a one-story, two-bedroom house with a sizable garage (which Vanessa thought would be perfect to turn into a sort of "Parts and Service" for Freddy). The house’s exterior was painted a soft blue colour with dark-wooden accents, and a quaint picket fence separated the front yard from the street. It was in a quiet neighbourhood, on the outskirts of town. It had a large backyard, encased by trees, private enough that Gregory might be able to take Freddy outside to play with him without having to worry about nosy neighbours. And best yet, it was on the complete opposite end of town from the Pizzaplex.

The landlord—or rather, landlady, who was a soft-spoken grandmotherly sort of woman—struck up a conversation as they toured. Apparently, the house had belonged to her son and his family, but their only child had gone missing only a few weeks prior. Grief stricken, he and his wife sold everything and moved back in with his mother, while she took care of his estate.

There were only so many reasons a child would go missing in Hurricane.

Vanessa had a sinking suspicion she knew exactly why.

  Dammit! Vanessa thought, dismayed. She wanted this place, she wanted it so bad. But there was no way in hell that she was going to take advantage of a house that was only available because she might’ve been the one who tore that family apart in the first place.

But at some point during their conversation, the landlady asked Vanessa why she was looking for a place, and Vanessa admitted that she was going to be fostering a kid and the tricky situation she was in about needing the place by the end of the week.

Well, that sealed the deal.

The lady seemed so unadulteratedly happy at the prospect of her son’s house being inhabited by children again. She asked many questions about Gregory, all of which Vanessa answered to the best of her abilities. Apparently her (late) grandchild was also a boy of similar age to Gregory, she even offered to drop off some of the child’s old toys and decor pieces they hadn’t gotten around to getting rid of yet for him, happy that it might be enjoyed by another child.

And, well…

Vanessa couldn’t bring herself to say no.

And she needed this house.

The paperwork was signed that afternoon, and the landlady told Vanessa she could return that Saturday to pick up the keys.

Meanwhile, a certain boy had found himself in a group home again.

This was far from the first time he’d been there, the caretakers knew him well. Usually, he was a sullen, somewhat unpredictable kid who needed to be kept a close eye on. But now?

He was just quiet.

He would only come out of his room when absolutely necessary, like for meals, then go straight back. Questions would be answered as shortly as possible, or just straight up ignored. Every time one of the workers came into his room, they simply found him lying on his bed, fiddling with some kind of watch on his wrist.

It’s not like he’d ever been a super sociable kid—he’d stopped making an effort to get along with the other kids ages ago. But he would at least join them from time to time when they were playing a board game, or to watch a movie.

Not this time.

The caretakers were flabbergasted, they didn’t know what to make of this drastic shift in attitude.

In fact, the only time he’d uttered more than a peep was his first night, when the caretakers were roused in the middle of the night by the sounds of terror-filled screaming.

They found him curled up in his bed, hugging the quilt for dear life and shaking like a leaf. He blatantly refused to be comforted or answer their concerned questions about what his nightmare was. So, they had no choice but to leave him be.

An incident like that didn’t happen again, but it wasn’t missed that the bags under his eyes were getting deeper with each passing day.

He just got better at being quiet about it.

He had a lot of time to think while he was there. As the days passed, he began to think more and more about what Vanessa had said. And the more he thought about it, the more he began to doubt her words. She said she was going to come back for him, but why should he believe that? Plenty of adults had made empty promises like that to him before. She probably just felt bad for him. He was ridiculous if he thought she actually wanted to take him in. Nobody could ever want to take care of a brat like him. Obviously she was just lying to him to make him feel better.

Hell, she “promised” that she would fix Freddy too, yet it’s been radio silence ever since. She probably lied about that, too.

Through a haze of frustrated tears, he brought his wrist up to his ear, letting the kind voice of Freddy from one of his voice-messages from That Night flood his ears and dull his self-pitying thoughts and fears, as he’d done countless times throughout that week.

So when Monday finally arrived, he didn’t let himself get his hopes up. He would treat it like it was a normal day, because it was, and nobody was coming to get him. He definitely didn’t spend extra time getting ready that morning, trying to make himself look presentable. And he definitely didn’t make his bed with significantly more care than usual, in the silent hope that he would never be sleeping in it again. And when that was finished, he definitely didn’t sit down on the bed to wait. He wasn’t waiting, that would be silly, because there was nothing to wait for. He was just… y’know, sitting. With his Pizzaplex-branded duffel bag packed with his meagre possessions ready to go sitting next to him–for no particular reason, of course.

He replayed one of Freddy’s voice messages on his watch. And another. And another.

He could probably recite them all off by heart at this point.

Then a knock at his door drew his attention, and his social worker poked her head in.

  “I see you’re already ready to go,” she remarked with a smile.

Chapter Text

Vanessa paced the hardwood floors of her new home—no, their new home. Because Gregory would be arriving at any minute.

It was Monday, meaning Vanessa was officially moved out of her old apartment (and thank goodness for that, too many unpleasant memories there). As promised, she was able to pick up the keys to the house that Saturday, and began the process of moving her stuff over immediately. Usually, she hated how clunky her truck was to drive around the city, but at least it meant she didn’t need to rent a moving truck.

In addition to the keys, the kind landlady had also brought over a box full of her grandson’s old things, including an assortment of books, toys, a blue glass table lamp, and some of those plastic glow-in-the-dark stars, all of which Vanessa thanked her profusely for, despite the guilt gnawing away at her chest.

Before Vanessa crossed the threshold into her new home for the first time, she paused in the entryway for a moment. She didn’t exactly consider herself religious—she’d gone to church as a young girl, sure—but in that moment she felt inclined to bow her head and whisper to whatever deities that might be listening that the family who’d previously owned this house might forgive her for what Vanny may have done.

It didn’t make the guilt go away, but somehow her shoulders did feel a bit lighter afterwards.

She checked the clock for the umpteenth time that morning.

11:44 a.m.

Gregory was supposed to arrive at 12:00 p.m.

Throughout the whole week, Freddy had been counting down the minutes to Gregory’s arrival. Literally. He’d set up a countdown in his head. Vanessa would be lying if she said she hadn’t practically done the same.

It didn’t feel real, none of this past week had, despite it objectively being more “normal” than the past three years of her life. Gregory, a whole ass child, was coming to live with her. Today— assuming everything went well with the inspection, of course—and she would be responsible for his well-being and happiness for the foreseeable future.

The doubt started creeping back into her head. Was she really qualified to do this? But as with most thoughts that’d entered her brain recently, she pushed it aside, forcing herself to take a deep breath and keep moving forwards.

Still pacing, she impulsively checked the clock again.

11:49 a.m.

She’d done everything she could to prepare. Every last counter and floor in the house got dusted and swept multiple times until they were spotless. Gregory’s room was all set-up and ready to go, including the blankets being freshly washed and the bed crisply made. Same went for Vanessa’s room, though she put considerably more care into the boy’s room. Her’s was an afterthought, to be completely honest. Half her stuff was still in boxes.

Freddy was hidden inside of a box himself, tucked away and instructed to be quiet until the social worker had left.

She compulsively straightened the cushions on the couch again, despite them already being fine and realistically a dang cushion isn’t going to impact the results of the inspection whatsoever and she knew she was being overkill but she needed to do something to distract herself while she waited.

11:56 a.m.

All the “what if”s swirled through her head again. What if she failed the home study, what if her application fell through, what if she was a horrible guardian for Gregory, what if the police had found out about Vanny, what if—

The melodic chime of the doorbell snapped her out of her thoughts, and her heart jumped into her throat.

Taking a deep breath, she brushed her fingers down the front of her flannel shirt to smooth it, then went to go answer the door.

As expected, Shelly the social worker stood on the other side of the door, a smile plastered on her face as usual, which Vanessa attempted to return despite her nerves. She caught a glimpse of Gregory standing behind her, clutching the straps of his duffel bag.

She welcomed them in nervously. Shelly instructed Gregory to wait on the couch until “the adults were done talking”.

Vanessa had done her research, so she had a pretty good idea of what to expect from a home study, but she still felt as though she was holding her breath the entire time, for fear that she’d missed something and they’d deem her house unsuitable.

But no such thing occurred. Shelly walked throughout the house. She checked Gregory’s room to make sure it was of suitable size. She checked for working smoke alarms, working appliances, and potable water. The bathroom was inspected for mould, cabinets were inspected to be sure that any medications or potentially hazardous cleaning products were properly secured, that sort of stuff.

Honestly, it was kind of ridiculous where their priorities lay; how foster children could be treated like utter crap and nobody gives a damn but god forbid a kid didn’t have adequate square footage in their bedroom.

Vanessa just hovered behind the social worker anxiously, there to answer any questions that may be asked of her but otherwise letting her do her thing.

After the house had been thoroughly inspected, she sat Vanessa down for a little interview. Asking her a few more additional questions such as her personal parenting philosophies and reiterating the commitment that becoming a foster parent was and if she was certain she was ready. Vanessa just tried to answer as honestly as she could. She didn’t care if it was going to be difficult, she would do whatever she could for him. Because he deserved it, he deserved it more than she could ever begin to articulate, though she didn’t exactly say that last part to the social worker, of course.

Shelly then excused herself back to the living room to speak with Gregory for a moment, leaving Vanessa alone in the kitchen where they’d had their interview. She tapped her fingers on the counter, trying not to think about what they might be discussing in the other room because maybe she was breaking the news to Gregory that Vanessa wasn’t a suitable foster parent, or—

   Shut up, she told her brain. She tried to think about nice things instead, like freshly-baked cookies, or a field of rainbow wildflowers. She liked those things, they were nice. She thought about the video games she (used to) like, those were fun. As long as they didn’t involve haunted robots and glitchy tapes. No, Vanessa, don’t think about that right now! Uhm, what else could she think about. Puppies! Puppies were cute. And kittens! She liked kittens. And bunnies— NO! Not bunnies, don’t think about bunnies—!

  “Miss Andrews?” Shelly questioned from the kitchen doorway, breaking her out of her spiral.

   Ah, crap. Vanessa winced, turning around to face the social worker. How long had she been standing there watching her panic?

  “Um, yes?” She coughed, and ran her hands through her bangs nervously.

Shelly simply handed her some paperwork. Vanessa thought her heart might’ve stopped. Or maybe it began to beat faster.

She barely even skimmed what the papers said, just flicked her gaze over the fine print and scribbled her name at the bottom.

They went back into the living room, Shelly said something to Gregory which Vanessa didn’t quite catch. He nodded in response, and Vanessa thought she could notice a slight smile on his face.

She then told Vanessa something about weekly check-ins, about doctor’s appointments, and about needing to register Gregory back into school soon. She nodded along to whatever the social worker was saying, yet not truly registering any of it. The implications of what this meant were still processing to her.

Handshakes were exchanged. Then goodbyes.

Mrs Shelly gathered up her paperwork and left the two (technically three, though of course she didn’t know that) to enjoy their new home.

And then it was over.

It was… over?

Vanessa just… stood in the entry after the door had closed behind the social worker. She didn't know whether to sigh in relief or laugh or cry or a mixture of all three because oh my god the process is over and she officially, legally had a kid.

She put her head into her hands and let out some sort of gasping chuckle.

But with that relief came the overwhelming sense of anxiety because what was she supposed to do now?

One step at a time, she reminded herself. It was something Freddy had told her multiple times throughout that past week and had become something of a personal mantra.

So first things first, she could help him get settled in.

  “Hey, kiddo,” Vanessa said, stepping back into the living room. “Um, welcome home?”

He jumped at her voice, seemingly having been distracted looking around for something. “Hi,” he replied carefully.

There was a tension hanging in the air; neither of them seemed to know what to do now.

She came around to sit next to him on the sofa, venturing for something to break the silence. “I hope your week at the group home wasn’t too bad, I can’t imagine it’s the greatest place to stay.”

He shrugged vaguely.

  “I would’ve taken you home earlier if I could, but, you know, there was legal stuff that needed to be sorted out.”

Another shrug.

Realising that this small talk was doing little besides making both of them even more uncomfortable, she changed the subject to something that would hopefully be more exciting for him. “ So… wanna see your new room?”

He brightened at that, nodding, and scurried to his feet to follow her down the hall. She pointed out the doors to the garage, her bedroom and the bathroom as they passed, before stopping at the door at the end of the hall. “And this is yours.”

She opened up the door, letting him go in first while she waited in the doorway to watch as he took it all in.

The walls were a soft blue in colour. She’d bought a secondhand bed, dresser, nightstand, and desk, all in similar shades of dark wood. After talking it over with Freddy, they decided on a dark blue comforter set with a pattern of stars to outfit it, as Freddy said he liked space. He said he liked arcade games, too, so she’d found an old Pac-Man ghost plushie of hers and had set it on the bed as well. The pretty blue lamp gifted from the landlady sat on the desk, but the nightstand she left empty—save for the few books piled in the shelf underneath—as she had a feeling she knew exactly what he’d want to put on it. The glow-in-the-dark stars had already been tacked up, creating a galaxy across the ceiling. Plus, working at the Pizzaplex had come with its perks—in the form of complementary merchandise. She had found some old Pizzaplex junk while going through her stuff, and picked out an assortment of Freddy goods for him, including a wall clock, throw blanket, notebook and pen set, and a plushie or two.

  “Do you like it?” She asked after a moment of silence. Gregory was just standing in the middle of the room, slowly spinning in a circle as his gaze scanned over everything. Maybe he didn’t like it. Was it a bit childish for his age? “It’s okay if you don’t!” She said quickly. “We can always change stuff around later, we—I mean, I—just wanted to make it nice for you.”

  “You got all of this for me?” He whispered, turning to face her.

  “No, I got it for the other Freddy-loving street rat I’m taking in,” she joked, rolling her eyes. “Yes it’s yours, dummy. I mean, most of it was secondhand, but… I hope it’s alright anyways.”

He didn’t respond, instead stepping over to his bed and sitting down, running his hand across the comforter. Vanessa had noticed he seemed to fidget a lot. And avoid eye contact. Not to mention his particular fascination with Freddy Fazbear...

Sure, it could just be from the copious amounts of trauma the kid probably definitely had, but she couldn’t help but wonder if he had some neurodivergency going on too. Something to ask him about at another time, maybe.

  “It’s just… so much. I’ve never had such a nice room before,” Gregory admitted quietly, staring down at his lap.

  “Aw, kid…” she said softly, kneeling down to be at eye level with him. “I’m happy that I was able to make it nice for you, and that you like it. You deserve to have a nice space of your own.”

  “Well, of course I like it! I like it a lot,” he exclaimed seriously, as if the idea that he wouldn't like it was absurd. “How’d you know that I liked space and video games and stuff anyway?”

  “Let’s just say… I had my sources,” Vanessa said mischievously, trying to maintain a neutral expression. Time for the reveal. “I’ve got one more surprise for you, actually,” she said lightly, standing up. “Why don’t you check the closet?”

With surprise and a hint of suspicion written on his face, he slowly opened the doors, almost as if he was worried something would jump out at him. Instead, he found a nondescript cardboard box sitting on the floor. He looked back at her questioningly, to which she nodded, unable to keep the grin off her face now.

He opened up the box and began digging through the packing peanuts. She could see the exact moment he registered the contents of the box, eyes widening in surprise, and then lighting up in joy.

  “Hello, superstar!” Freddy beamed up at him from the box.

  “FREDDY! ” He yelled. Within a second he had Freddy’s head out of the box, clutching him into a hug and burying his face against his top hat. Packing peanuts were everywhere, but they didn’t care. “I missed you! I missed you so much!” He cried, then lifted his head to look at Vanessa. “You fixed him.”

  “I promised I would,” she smiled. She’d never seen him look so happy before. Then again, it’s not like he’d had many reasons to smile with everything that’d happened…

Well, she was glad then that she was able to help give him a reason to smile.

  “She did indeed!” Freddy said happily. “Vanessa installed a new charging port for me, I can recharge using a cellphone charger now! Isn’t that wonderful?”

  “Thank you, Vanessa, thank you so much!” Gregory exclaimed, still hugging Freddy’s head close.

She let out a content sigh, smiling down at the two. Deciding to give him some time to get reunited with Freddy, she turned to go make him some lunch, as he'd probably be hungry by now. She was pretty sure Gregory didn't even notice her leave, too busy talking to Freddy.

A few minutes later she returned, finding Gregory sprawled out on his bed like a teenage girl in some 90’s high school movie and talking away to Freddy, who sat on the bed nearby listening to the boy’s every word in rapt attention.

  “Knock knock?” She said to get his attention, carrying a plate with a ham and cheese sandwich and a juice box. “I come bearing lunch.” She set the food on his desk, figuring he’d want a bit more time to talk to Freddy without her presence. “You can eat in your room if you want, just try not to get crumbs on your bed.”

  “M’kay!” He said brightly, snatching half of his sandwich off the plate and taking a big bite. “Thank you, Vanessa!” He said. Or, at least, that’s what she thought he said, as it was garbled through a mouthful of food.

She chuckled at Freddy’s admonishments to the boy about talking with your mouth full, then left the boys alone. 

Upon offering to help Gregory unpack a little bit later, both her and Freddy came to a dismaying realisation. He owned nothing. The only contents of his duffel bag–apart from the few trinkets he had from the Pizzaplex–were a couple ratty t-shirts and pants, with a single pair of pyjamas and a few pairs each of underwear and socks. No jacket, no extra shoes. Not even a toothbrush. That was it.

  “We’re going shopping this afternoon.” Vanessa left no room for argument, despite Gregory’s protests that he didn’t need anything else.

But even so, Vanessa could tell that he was secretly excited at the prospect of picking out new clothes. Together they picked out a few outfits, a couple PJ’s, and a nice warm jacket for the upcoming fall months. He seemed to gravitate towards soft, simple clothing, mostly in blues and oranges (gee, I wonder why?). She didn’t care either way, as long as he liked it and it was weather-appropriate. She’d probably have to take him out shopping again once winter rolled around, but she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.

He’d be starting school again soon, so she picked up some school supplies while they were out as well. Gregory had wandered off while she was doing this, and she found him in the next aisle over, staring at the art supplies.

  “Oh, there you are.” Vanessa said, relieved. She’d truthfully panicked for a moment, thinking she’d actually lost track of him.

He jumped, spinning around to face her guiltily. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…I was just looking…”

Vanessa hummed, coming over to stand by him and peered at the colourful rows of sketchbooks, pens, and pencils. “Do you like to draw?”

  “Um, I guess… kinda, yeah,” he admitted, shifting his weight from side to side hesitantly.

  “Well,” Vanessa said brightly, reaching for one of the sketchbooks and placing it in the cart. “You can’t make art without supplies, can you?”

Gregory sputtered, “W-Wait, what? But I don’t need…”

  “Kid,” she sighed gently, placing her hands on his shoulders. “I’m not asking if you need it, I’m asking if you want it.” She smiled at him. “It’s okay, you’re allowed to ask for stuff you don’t need. That doesn’t mean I’ll always say yes, but I’m never gonna get mad at you for asking, okay? And in this case, I am saying ‘yes’.”

  “But… you’ve already bought so many nice things already… Are you sure? ”

  “Positive.” Vanessa gave his shoulders a light reassuring squeeze. “Now, how about you pick out some pencils to go with your new sketchbook?”

Giving in to her encouragements, he picked out a tin of pencils and gently placed them in the cart next to the sketchbook, thanking her profusely.

  “No problem,” she replied, a bubble of warmth in her chest. She didn’t think she could ever get tired of seeing the kid smile. Which then gave her an idea, a memory of something her mother used to do with her before she passed resurfacing. So, grinning conspiratorially, she asked, “Hey… wanna ride the shopping cart?”

They arrived at the checkout breathless with laughter, Vanessa having raced through the rest of the aisles with Gregory clinging onto the front of the cart. They garnered some dirty looks from the other shoppers, but Vanessa could hardly care less. They were happy, they were okay, and that’s all that mattered right then.

Although, she would be lying if she said she didn’t wince at the three-figure total that smacked her in the face at the register. But that was fine, it was fine, she could afford it. She’d really need to start looking for a job soon, though.

While cooking supper that evening, she could hear Gregory excitedly showing off all his new stuff to Freddy in his room. Afterwards, while finally getting around to unpacking some of her stuff, she came across an old gaming console of hers (not a VR one, thank you very much) and with Gregory’s assistance got it hooked up in the living room.

They played a few games of Mario Kart together while Freddy cheered them on from the coffee table (actually, who was she kidding, Freddy was absolutely biased and was cheering exclusively Gregory on).

Vanessa considered herself to be pretty good at video games, however Gregory absolutely wiped the floor with her. 

At one point, upon being hit by Vanessa’s blue shell, Gregory, without thinking, had exclaimed, “Oh you little jerk— ” before freezing, realising what just came out of his mouth. He seemed anxious towards what Vanessa’s reaction to his “rudeness” might be.

But Vanessa just threw the trash talk right back at him. “Oh yeah? Well there’s more where that came from, punk!” She grinned.

They fell into good-natured banter. Freddy, however, didn’t seem to realise this, and became increasingly distressed at their comments towards each other, to which they had to pause and reassure him that they didn’t actually mean them, and that they were just having fun.

As much as Vanessa might’ve been content to stay up into the late hours of the night, Gregory would be starting school soon and she figured now was as good a time as any to instil a healthy routine, so when she noticed the clock read 8:30, she called it quits and instructed Gregory to take a shower and get ready for bed. He grumbled a bit, but didn’t argue.

Later that night she came in with a phone charger and plugged it into the wall next to Gregory’s bed, as it had already been decided that his nightstand would become Freddy’s new “charging station”.

Vanessa still wasn’t entirely sure how Freddy worked, being just a head, but he didn’t seem to have the same restrictions when it came to charging as he did with a full body. Therefore, instead of the short, hourly recharges he needed in the Pizzaplex, he could now operate on a single, longer, daily recharge, almost mimicking the sleep schedule of a human.

  “Got everything you need?” Vanessa asked Gregory, as he climbed into the bed, freshly-showered and wearing his new PJs.

  “Mhm,” he said sleepily, plugging Freddy in and setting him on the nightstand.

  “Alright, I’ll be in my room. You can call out or come get me if you need anything at all, alright?”

  “Mhm,” he mumbled again, eyelids fluttering shut and snuggling down into the covers.

  “Goodnight Vanessa! I hope you rest well,” Freddy called out to her.

  “Goodnight Fred. Goodnight, Gregory,” She replied softly, reaching to turn off the light.

But before she could, she heard Gregory’s half-asleep voice mumble. “G’night, Freddy, G’night ‘Nessa…”

   What did he just call me? Vanessa chuckled softly, exchanging a smile with Freddy.

   “Sleep tight, kiddo,” she whispered, clicking off the light, leaving the room faintly lit by the light from Freddy’s eyes and the luminescence of the plastic stars dotted across the ceiling. Before she slipped out the door, she turned to look at the boy again. He was indeed already fast asleep, the space-themed comforter pulled up to his chin and his still-damp scruffy hair splayed out on his pillow like a halo. He wore a peaceful expression on his face despite the dark circles that ringed his eyes.

Vanessa left and shut the door gently, leaving the boy and the bear to sleep.

She hoped she’d be able to find some peace in her dreams, too.

Chapter Text

Gregory was beginning to get settled into his new house, and Vanessa was being… weirdly nice. Like, she was always asking if he needed anything or if he was doing alright and that sorta stuff. As if she needed to be worrying about him.

He wondered how long it would be until she dropped the façade. Because, that’s how it always went with foster homes, right? They’d act all kind and stuff when he first arrived, but after a while they’d get tired of him and realise what a needy brat he was.

It was one thing when Vanessa was just a random… (a random what? part of him wondered, she wasn’t exactly a stranger, but not exactly what you might call a friend either.) In any case, when she was just a random acquaintance who let him crash at her place for a bit.

But now? She was legally his foster mom, and that meant she made the rules. And if he didn’t figure out what those rules were soon, he’d be in big trouble.

Not that he exactly thought she’d hurt him or anything, she was nice, but you could never be sure with foster parents. He wouldn’t let his guard down, that was a surefire way to end up stabbed in the back (figuratively speaking, this time). Already he felt as though he’d been too careless, and had tested his limits on what behaviour Vanessa might accept from him.

Because he couldn’t, he wouldn’t risk being sent back. Freddy was here, and wherever Freddy was is where Gregory would do his damn best to stay.

So he’d just have to be a better kid.

But what made a kid a good kid? He thought to himself, lying awake in his wonderful, soft bed one night. All he knew is that he wasn’t one, no matter what Freddy might’ve said before. He’d been told as much for as long as he could remember.

So was it something intrinsic, then? Were some kids simply born doomed into being “bad kids”, no matter how hard they might try otherwise? Because he has tried, he has! And yet it never made a goddamn difference in the end, he was always sent away for one reason or another and forced to repeat this stupid cycle of getting his hopes up that maybe it’ll be different this time just to have it all come crashing back down again. It was like reaching out towards the sunlight only to have it burn you.

And it sucked! He hated it, he hated himself, he hated every damn adult who’d ever treated him like garbage and he was so… he was so tired of it all.

His throat squeezed uncomfortably and tears sprung up in the corners of his eyes and all of a sudden he realised it wasn’t frustration or resentment that had him feeling this way, it was heartache. A deep, aching grief for the childhood he didn’t really get to live.

And he… he didn't know what to do about it. He wanted so desperately to stay here, in this nice house with Freddy and the nice ex-security guard who’d kinda tried to kill him but it wasn’t her fault. But if he messed up he’d be right back to where he started, only this time he’d have Freddy’s fate on his conscience too.

Which brought him back to his original point: he had to be a better kid.

No, he decided, swiping at his stray tears with his pyjama sleeve. He’d be the best kid, one who Vanessa never had to worry about, or yell at or make more trouble than he already had for her.

So, he thought about what other foster parents had expected of him in the past, the rules that if he followed perfectly would apparently designate him as a “good kid” and therefore deserving of all the nice things Vanessa had done for him already. He could do his chores, even without needing to be asked, that was a big one. He could get ready for bed and not complain every night, too. And Vanessa had been making him breakfast every morning, even if it was sometimes just cereal, but she didn’t need to do that, he’d cooked for himself—and others—before. And when he went back to school, he’d do all his homework and get good grades and he wouldn’t get into fights. Oh, and most adults don’t like listening to kids talk, right? So he wouldn’t speak unless he was spoken to. And he definitely wouldn’t wake Freddy or Vanessa when he had nightmares, because only babies did that, and he was a big kid now.

He could do all that.

He’d be the perfect kid, so she wouldn’t need to send him away.

So with that newfound resolve, he rolled over, falling into a fitful slumber.

Gregory was acting… weird, and Vanessa wasn’t sure what to make of it. Well, maybe it wasn’t her place to say that—it’s not as if she’d known the kid for very long, so who was she to say that he was acting off? But Freddy had noticed it too; he had voiced these exact concerns to Vanessa whilst Gregory was in the shower one evening, and she trusted the bear’s judgement on the kid more than her own. So if Freddy thought something was up, that was worrying.

It was like he was drained of all his spunk and personality and all the things that made him Gregory, leaving a quiet and meek and almost scared child in his place. He was jumpy, would barely utter a peep, and wouldn’t make eye contact with her. And much to her dismay, the dark bags that’d been ringing his eyes when he arrived didn’t seem to be getting any better.

Vanessa just wondered if he was still wary around her, she did spend an entire night trying to kill him after all. He’d claimed that he didn’t hold it against her, but she’d be shocked if there still wasn’t some pent up resentment there. She’d tried asking him once, if something was bothering him, but he brushed her off, insisting that he was “fine” and that she didn’t need to worry about him.

So she left him mostly alone. This was a big adjustment for him, right? Maybe he just needed his space to get comfortable around her. But she agreed with Freddy, if something didn’t change soon, they’d have to intervene. Despite his insistence not to, they were worried about the kid.

And it seems her worrying was justified, as things came to a head one morning when she found Gregory up and bustling around in the kitchen.

  “Gregory?” Vanessa questioned, yawning, upon stumbling out of her room. “What are you doing up, it’s…” she blinked up at the clock, frowning when her bleary eyes registered the time. “…7:00? You’re usually still in bed by now.”

  “Oh, hey Vanessa,” he turned his head to look at her, brows furrowed in apprehension. “Sorry, did I wake you up?” 

  “Gregory was quite adamant on getting up,” Freddy added, from where he was sitting on the counter keeping an observant eye on the boy.

  “No, no, you didn’t wake me!” Vanessa assured him quickly. She’d been up for awhile already, having dreamt about her, and after tossing and turning in bed for a couple hours figured she’d may as well get up. But she didn’t tell him that. “But seriously, what are you doing?”

  “Making breakfast, see?” He stepped to the side so Vanessa could see the pan of eggs he was stirring on the stove. A stack of buttered toast sat on a plate nearby, too.

  “Ah geez kid,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “I appreciate it, really, but you didn’t need to do that. I’m really grateful for all the help you’ve been this week, don’t get me wrong, but I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to be the one taking care of you, not the other way around,” she chuckled softly. “Here, at least let me help.” She reached for a dirty plate to begin washing the dishes, only to have Gregory gently bat her hand away.

  “No, no, I’ve got it!” He yelped, before clearing his throat. “I know my cooking is making extra dishes dirty, so I’m gonna handle it. Um, you can sit down at the table or something if you want? It’ll be ready soon.”

  “Kid,” she sighed through her nose gently. “Did you get possessed by a chore-loving demon or something?” Why was he being so insistent about this of all things? “I want to help, okay? You don’t need to do everything yourself.” She reached for the plate again, but Gregory snatched it out of her hands.

  “No, y-you don’t need to!” He clutched the plate to his chest, looking almost… panicked? “I-I’ve got it, see?” He turned to the sink–which was already filled with soapy water–and gave it a quick rinse, before turning back to the stove to make sure the eggs weren’t burning. He then proceeded to attempt to dry it with one hand while his other stirred the eggs.

   What’s gotten into him? Vanessa wondered, exchanging a concerned glance with Freddy.

  “Here, let me dry that for you—” She reached for the aforementioned plate again only to have Gregory yank it out of her reach with another exclamation that “he could handle it!”

Unfortunately, a damp plate is quite slippery, and this swift motion resulted in the dish slipping out of his hand.

CRASH!

For a moment, the only thing either of them could do is stare at the shattered fragments of ceramic on the tile floor.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Gregory gasped, dropping to his knees. “I-I’ll clean it up, I swear! I’m sorry!” He began frantically grasping for the jagged shards.

But at the same time, Vanessa exclaimed, “Oh shit, are you alright, Greg—” and reached for him to make sure he hadn't hurt himself.

…Only for him to violently flinch away from her touch, curling up with his back to the cabinets and shielding his face in his arms. But not before she saw the pure fear that flashed in his eyes.

  “I-I’m sorry! Please don’t hurt me…” He mumbled pitifully, breathing coming out rapidly but shallow. “It was an accident! I’ll clean it up! I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’msorryI’msorry…”

Vanessa’s hand froze where it was as she stared down at the hyperventilating boy.

Her heart felt like the plate. Shattered.

He thought she was going to hurt him. (Hurt him again, her brain unhelpfully reminded her.)

  “Vanessa? Vanessa, what is the matter with him?” Is he hurt?” Freddy fretted from the countertop, unable to see him from his viewpoint.

  “Panic attack, I think,” she gasped in response. She dropped to the floor next to him–remembering to turn off the stove as she did, the last thing they needed was to burn down the house.

  “Hey, hey,” she said softly, keeping her distance. “You’re okay, I-I’m not going to hurt you, alright? I promise.”

He curled in on himself ever further, shaking his head and making some kind of weak, incoherent choking noise. She wasn’t sure if he even heard her.

The force of his trembling against the cabinets rattled the doors, and he choked out shallow gasps for breath as he fought off some unseen danger in his head.

Vanessa didn’t know what to do, reaching out for him only seemed to exacerbate his panic. Was her presence only making things worse? But she couldn’t just leave him like this, not when he’s obviously hurting. Every little sob and whimper and choke caused her heart to break ever further and just felt so useless and she had to just do something—!

So she did the only thing she could think of. She pulled the child into her lap, hips pressing against his knees and resting his head against her shoulder, bringing her arms up to securely wrap around his back, essentially turning herself into a human weighted blanket.

Vanessa had had her fair share of panic attacks before, and what she tended to rely on to ground her was pressure. She could only hope that it would be the same for him.

  “You’re okay, you’re okay,” she murmured, gently rocking back and forth. She could vaguely feel a shard of ceramic digging into her knee, but she would concern herself with that later.

She wasn’t sure if her grabbing him was helping or if he simply didn’t have the energy to fight it, but nonetheless she persisted, helping him in the only way she knew how.

  “Just breathe, okay? In… and out…” she instructed softly, emphasising her breathing and encouraging him to mimic it. Slowly but surely, after maybe a couple minutes of this, she could feel the trembling of his small body pressed up against hers begin to lessen, and his breathing start to even out, following her lead.

  “Good, good, you're doing great, Gregory. You’re okay, see?” she insisted, keeping the child comfortingly wrapped within her arms.

Eventually, he had stilled completely, save for the small puffs of breath and heartbeat that’d resumed a more regular pace, and Vanessa became acutely aware of their surroundings again.

  “The floor isn’t very comfortable, huh?” She said lightly, avoiding mentioning the broken plate for fear that it would set him off again. “I’m going to carry you out to the sofa, okay?”

A barely-perceptible nod against her shoulder was the only indication that he’d heard her.

So she wrapped one arm under his knees and kept the other around his shoulders, lifting him up. He was lighter than she’d thought he’d be.

Vanessa was… decently fit. She’d spent the last couple years lugging around machinery and, uh…

Well…

…bodies.

But she didn’t like the ease in which she was able to carry this eleven year-old. He was small for his age, yeah, but still…

Yet another thing about this boy that was concerning.

Maybe any other time, he would’ve protested against being carried like a “baby”, but his attack seemed to have drained all of his energy leaving him practically a ragdoll in her arms.

(She tried not to think about how much carrying this limp child reminded her of carrying a lifeless one.)

She carried him out to the living room, setting him down on the sofa and wrapping a blanket around him, before running back out to the kitchen to grab Freddy and plop him in Gregory’s lap.

  “Keep an eye on him, okay?” She whispered to the bear. “I’m going to go clean up.”

  “Of course, Vanessa.” Freddy nodded seriously, turning his full attention to the boy and beginning to quietly talk to him.

She walked out to the closet to grab the broom, but upon opening the door just… stood there, leaning against the doorframe for support as her knees seemed to give out beneath her. It was all just too much, suddenly, the weight of what just happened hitting her now that the adrenaline had worn off.

   Great going, Vanessa, you caused the kid to have a panic attack. Some “parent” you are, her mind accused her.

   No! Vanessa pleaded with herself. I tried, I’m trying, I’m trying my best! I thought giving him some space would help! And I’d asked him if he was okay!

  But clearly he’s not! That horrible part of her brain shot back. Remember the way he looked at you? He’s scared you’re going to hurt him. Just like you hurt all those other kids.

She thought about the way he looked at her when she tried to reach for him. It was a frantic, haunted look of pure terror.

It was the same look as when she was standing over him with her knife in the fursuit, arcade cabinet at his back.

Maybe that horrid, spiteful part of her mind was right.

She wasn’t cut out to be a guardian.

   Dammit! She rested her forehead against one of the closet shelves. Standing here wallowing in self-pity wasn’t doing anybody any favours. Right, she needed to clean up.

So she did. First, though, she patched up the cut on her knee from when she’d knelt on one of the shards. She hadn’t really felt it then, but now she could feel the sting and notice that it’d sliced right through her pyjama pants leaving a relatively shallow cut but one that had been dripping blood down her leg.

Then she grabbed the broom and thoroughly swept up all the fragments until she was sure there were no slivers of ceramic left anywhere, dumping them unceremoniously into the trash.

It broke her heart to admit it, but she got to thinking while she was sweeping, and… maybe she wasn’t the best person to care for Gregory.

She thought that she could help provide, to the best of her capabilities, the stable home and proper childhood the boy deserved. But if this morning showed anything, it was that she was sorely mistaken.

He deserved to have a parent that he wouldn’t have to worry about murdering him in his sleep.

A proper mother, one who actually knew what the goddamn hell she was doing and would help him, not hurt him more.

Which wasn’t her, clearly.

She shook her head. It was a conversation they could have at another time, she decided. He was still in too much distress to worry about something like that at the moment. Maybe later, when he’d calmed down, she… she could ask him if he wanted to leave, and whatever he chose she would support wholeheartedly.

No matter how much it pained her.

When she went back into the living room, he seemed much calmer than before. The only remaining evidence of his panic were the tear tracks drying on his face.

  “Did the pieces hurt you?” She asked gently, kneeling down in front of him.

He shook his head, releasing his hands from where they were wrapped around Freddy and held them out to show Vanessa. A thin white scratch could be seen on one palm, but it wasn’t bleeding. He also refused to look anywhere in her general direction, but she could see the tinge of pink in his cheeks. Probably feeling embarrassed from his outburst and her subsequent… well, her practically cuddling him, really.

  “Good, that’s good,” she said kindly. “How do you feel?”

  “…Like crap,” he muttered hoarsely. But it was the first thing he’d said since his attack, so she took that as good progress.

  “I get that,” she sighed, sitting down next to him. And she did, she really did, she was all too familiar with the exhaustion and lethargy a panic attack left in his wake.

  “What…” he swallowed thickly, “what happened? Suddenly I couldn’t breathe a-and…” he trailed off, breath hitching.

  “You had a panic attack.” She figured it would be best to not mince words, he was the kinda kid who could appreciate blunt honesty. “Was that your first time?”

He gave a small nod.

  “They’re not fun, huh?” She chuckled weakly at his groan of agreement, then sobered up. “Look, I don’t know exactly what triggered it, if it was the plate or me or…” she trailed off, swallowing the lump in her throat before she continued. “But I promise, I’m not mad, or upset at you or anything, okay? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but she cut him off. “Nope, none of that. It was just a plate, and it was an accident. I was more worried if you were okay. I promise, I’m not mad at you one bit.”

  “But—”

  “Nuh-uh,” she shook her head, reaffirming. “And Freddy’s not mad at you either. Right, Fred?”

  “Not at all!” Freddy confirmed sincerely. “In fact, I remember this one time Chica was teaching us all to bake cupcakes, and I knocked a whole carton of eggs off the counter. And would you guess where they landed? Right on Roxy’s toes!

  “You didn’t!” Gregory gasped, choking back a snicker as his face finally cracked into a smile.

  “I did indeed!” He nodded seriously. “And you can imagine that Roxanne was not very happy with me. But accidents happen, Gregory, and friends always forgive each other.”

  “Exactly,” Vanessa smiled sadly. God, she was going to miss this... Suits her right for getting attached, she should’ve known this life was more than what she deserved.

She patted his knee then stood up, joints popping. “I’m going to go finish cooking breakfast. Think you’re feeling up to eating, kiddo?”

Gregory nodded.

The toast had long since gone cold, and the scrambled eggs were kind of rubbery. But she put the eggs onto the toast, sprinkled them in shredded cheese, and zapped them in the microwave. Not the fanciest breakfast certainly, but perfectly edible.

Vanessa insisted on this being a “mental health” day for them, which Gregory didn’t seem to quite understand, but she insisted that he didn’t have to worry about doing anything today. So she popped on a movie and they ate their breakfast on the couch together huddled in blankets. She’d picked one of her favourite’s from when she was younger—The Muppets. Silly and wholesome, just what they needed.

It wasn’t perfect. There were still things that needed to be addressed between them; conversations that needed to be had, but Vanessa forced herself to focus on the now and ignore those for the time being.

She would enjoy the little moments like this, because it may just be the last she’d get.

Chapter Text

Vanessa leaned against the wall outside of Gregory’s door, trying to muster up the courage to go in.

She hadn’t been avoiding him, not exactly, it’s just that she never felt like there was a good time to bring up what, after the events of that morning, desperately needed to be discussed.

Sometime during their third movie that morning, Gregory had fallen asleep, and ended up sleeping the rest of the morning away. Which she was glad for—he’d looked like he needed it.

Then she had kinda given him a wide berth the rest of the afternoon, letting him have his space and time to recuperate. And then later the social worker had shown up for their first check-in, so… there never really felt like a good time to say anything. Or that’s what Vanessa told herself, anyways. It was easier than admitting she was delaying it.

Vanessa thought the check-in had gone… alright? Well, at least, the social worker didn’t seem to have any big concerns or anything. She hadn’t mentioned what had happened–that being Gregory’s panic attack and her internal realisations that’d followed. After all, it would be Gregory’s decision to make, so he deserved to be the first one she mentioned it to. So, she’d kept her mouth shut and put on a smile for the social worker. And as far as she could tell, Gregory hadn’t mentioned anything either.

Now it was the evening, the whole day had gone by with a palpable tension hanging between the two, and she owed it to both of them to not put off this discussion any longer.

She took a deep breath, then two, then one more. “Knock knock?” She called softly, tapping her knuckle on the door. It wasn’t completely closed, so she probably could’ve just walked on in, but she still wanted to respect the kid’s space by announcing her presence first. “...Could I come in for a minute, Greg?”

  “Um, sure?” he called back hesitantly.

She found him sitting at his desk, scribbling away in his sketchbook with Freddy sitting nearby and faintly humming a tune, though he stopped when Vanessa entered to greet her.

  “Hey, kiddo,” she said after returning Freddy’s greetings, making sure to keep her tone light. “Listen… can we talk?”

He stiffened, dropping his pencil and turned to face her. Panic flashed in his eyes. “Uh, o-okay…”

  “You’re not in any trouble or anything! I promise. That’s not what this is about,” she added quickly, seeing the fear those three simple words seemed to strike in him. She sat down on the edge of his bed, patting the space next to her.

He came over and perched himself next to her at the very edge of the bed, as if prepared to flee at any moment, setting Freddy down next to him.

That was another thing, before Gregory arrived, Vanessa was notoriously bad at remembering to include Freddy in things. It was surprisingly easy to forget that Freddy Fazbear, even as just a head, was there in her home. Which resulted in her sometimes leaving him on a table or chair for extended periods of time while she was off doing other things. And Freddy, on the other hand, seemed reluctant to remind her of this, so would sit alone for hours until she’d eventually remember and come rushing back with frantic apologies to the bear.

  “Do you…” she racked her brain for the best way to begin this conversation. “Do you want to talk about what happened earlier? Your… your panic attack, I mean. I guess I just wanna know if we can figure out what caused it, so that it doesn’t happen again. Does that sound okay?”

He hunched in on himself, drawing his knees up to his chin, looking away from her. Finally he replied, “I dunno.”

  “Okay…” Vanessa said slowly. Clearly an open-ended question like that wasn’t the best way to encourage a response from him. “Then, do you think it was the plate breaking, my presence, or something else that might’ve made you panic?”

He shrugged, and let out a small huff. “Everything, I guess? First I didn’t listen to you when you told me to hand you the plate and then I dropped it which only made more work for you and costed you money too. S-So I thought you’d be really mad at me.”

  “But it was an accident,” she protested. She didn’t understand, he’d practically trashed the Pizzaplex, yet this was what he was worried about? “Why did you think I’d get mad for something little like that?”

He didn’t answer, keeping his gaze fixed pointedly at a spot on the other side of the room.

  “Gregory, you know I’d never do anything to hurt you, right? I’m not going to get mad at you when you make mistakes, they happen.” She swallowed the lump that had lodged itself in her throat. “Listen, you can be honest with me, and whatever your answer is, I’m not going to be upset, I promise. Do I scare you? I mean, because of… you know.”

He looked back at her in surprise, then shook his head.

But she didn’t quite believe that.

  “I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I mean, I did try to ki— uh, hurt you, that night,” she faltered, not wanting to say the K-word. It felt taboo in this house. “You are completely within your right to hold that against me.”

It hurt. It hurt her so much to say, but she would, only wanting the best for the kid. Being around her couldn’t be helping him, she was a constant reminder of what he had to endure that night. She wouldn’t let herself be the one to potentially stunt his recovery. He deserved a home he could relax in. As much as she wanted to be that home, it was clear to her that she couldn’t. She wouldn’t be selfish, even if he was the only reason she hadn’t driven a knife through her own heart. “So I would understand if you’re uncomfortable with me as a guardian and would rather go back to somebody else—”

  “Are you saying you want me to leave?” He cut her off bluntly, as if he’d been expecting her to say this, balling his hands in his comforter. His face held the same resigned despondency as it did back at the social worker’s office, being told by his ex-foster mother that he wasn’t wanted anymore.

  “No!” Vanessa exclaimed. “God— no, Gregory. That’s— that’s not what I meant. That’s not what I meant at all,” she pleaded, unable to convey just how much his presence in her life had meant to her. “It’s just… I wondered if you were uncomfortable.”

More silence. It was long enough that Vanessa wondered if it would be best to just leave him alone for the time being. But just as she was about to get up and leave, he spoke up, “It’s not… you specifically, I guess,” he sighed, flopping back to lay on the bed. “I’m just…”

  “Weary of everybody?” She guessed softly, flopping back as well.

He hummed in response.

  “I get that.”

They laid there in silence for a minute, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars that dotted the ceiling.

She wondered what was going through his head right then. He was—understandably so—a pretty closed-off kid. It was difficult to gauge what he might be thinking about.

  “I don’t want to go,” he finally whispered, breaking the stillness of the moment. “I-I’ll try to be better, so you don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be a good kid, the best kid.”

  “Wait…” Vanessa frowned, sitting up and facing him. Suddenly his strange behaviour over the past few days clicked in her head, painting an alarming picture. “Kid… you know how ‘good’ you are doesn’t determine whether or not I let you stay, right? That’s…”

She was about to say that’s ridiculous but, remembering the way his previous foster mother—if you could even call that vile woman a mother—talked about him, and not to mention the countless other families she didn’t know that he must have been through before... Maybe it wasn’t such an impossible thing for him to believed after all. “Excuse my language, but Christ kid, whoever taught you that is messed up.”

Freddy made an indignant sound at her choice of vocabulary, which Vanessa disregarded. To be entirely honest, she had kinda forgotten Freddy was there in the first place. He’d been oddly quiet throughout the conversation.

Gregory didn’t respond to that, and Vanessa didn’t know what to do, or say, now. Gregory, if he was telling the truth, genuinely seemed like wanted to stay here, which was an unimaginable weight off her shoulders, and yet… there was still something she needed to get off her chest.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing,” she admitted out loud. Whether admitting it to herself or to Gregory or even to Freddy she wasn’t sure, just that she felt the need to voice the doubts that’d been swirling around her head for the past week. “I mean, me, a mother figure?” She let out a self-deprecating huff. “I hardly feel like an adult myself. I’ve tried doing my research but I still don’t have a goddamn clue how to do any of this.” She gestured vaguely with her hands. “But I’m trying, I swear, I’m trying. I want to do the best I possibly can for you, Gregory,” her voice had dropped to a near whisper; she was practically pleading with him now. “So… please, could you be patient with me while I learn what I’m doing?”

  “But what’s wrong with just being Vanessa?”

  “What do you mean?” She asked softly, confused.

  “Well– I mean– like,” Gregory faltered, scrunching up his face while attempting to untangle his thoughts. “I like the Vanessa that plays video games with me, a-and sings dumb songs with Freddy while making dinner, and doesn’t laugh at me for still needing a nightlight and stuff. I don’t want you to be my foster mom, I think you’re doing just fine now. Foster parents are overrated and suck anyways. Why can’t you just be Vanessa?”

She stared at him wide-eyed, as he finished talking and hunched in on himself again, as if embarrassed by his own honesty. His words sunk in, sunk in straight to her heart. He was listing things that had seemed so simple, so natural to her, and yet he was phrasing them as if they meant the world to him. These little things, though perhaps having been done for his benefit, she had no idea just how much of an impact they would really seem to leave on him.

But when she really thought about the core of what he was saying… he was right. She had been so absorbed in the idea of needing to be this quintessential, perfect mother for this child, and trying to force herself into that idealised role, that she hadn't stopped to consider if that’s what either of them really wanted, or needed, her to be.

So maybe that voice inside her head was right; she wasn’t cut out to be his mother. But maybe that was okay, because maybe, just maybe, it was enough to simply be his “Vanessa”.

  “Yeah?” She whispered back, blinking away the moisture that’d risen in her eyes. “I think… I think I can do that. But, Gregory?” She then addressed him earnestly. “The same goes for you too, you know. I don’t need you to be the ‘perfect kid’ or whatever it is in your head that you feel like you need to be. I just want you to just be Gregory. I want you to goof off and have fun and make mistakes and above all just be a kid. I still want you to be a ‘good kid’ of course, but I’m only asking you to do your best, not what other people might think your best is supposed to be.”

  “But what if I don’t know how to be that?” The admission was quiet, spoken with an innocent yet heartbreaking honesty.

  “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing a fine job of it already,” she smiled, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “We’ll learn together, okay? You’re right, we don’t have to be foster-mother-and-son, we can just be Nessa-and-Greg.”

  “And Freddy,” Gregory pointed out.

  “Nessa-and-Greg-and-Freddy,” she amended, then gently rested her head on top of his, their shoulders pressing together. He stiffened, but then hesitantly thunked his head to rest onto her shoulder too. He pulled Freddy into his lap, keeping his arms wrapped around the bear.

  “I just wanna make sure you’re safe and happy, kiddo,” she whispered into the boy’s hair.

She still wasn’t sure why. Why she’d done this in the first place, or why she felt so strongly about it. Maybe it was guilt, maybe it was sympathy stemming from her own crappy childhood. But whatever the case, she knew at that moment that she’d go through hell and back to just see him smile. Her only hope was that he could eventually begin to see himself in the same light that Freddy and herself did.

Even ignoring the whole events of the Pizzaplex, no child deserves to have gone through what he did.

They stayed like that for a minute, and Gregory was the one to pull away first.

  “You know, you’re pretty cool, Vanessa,” he told her shyly.

  “Thanks, bud. I think you’re pretty cool too.”

  “But not as cool as Freddy.”

  “Oh, no,” she agreed with faux-seriousness. “Nobody is as cool as Freddy.”

Freddy stammered sheepishly, gaze flicking back and forth between the two as they could hear his internal fans speed up to combat an apparent influx of processor usage. It was funny, he’d probably been called “cool” dozens of times a day back at the Pizzaplex, but here was, sputtering like it was the first time those words had ever been directed at him.

   Sap, she thought affectionately, rolling her eyes.

  “Alright, now come on, kid.” Abruptly, she shoved Gregory off the bed playfully, who yelped in response. “It’s high time somebody got ready for bed, you’ve got school tomorrow.”

He grumbled, laying on the floor dramatically. “Rude.” He stuck his tongue out at her, which Vanessa returned, then he peeled himself off the floor and stumbled off to the bathroom to go take his shower, leaving her and Freddy behind who were laughing at him softly.

After he’d left, Vanessa let out a long sigh, exhaling the heavy, conflicting mound of emotions—both bad and good—that’d built up inside her throughout the day, then flopped back to lie on the bed again.

Turning her head to the side, she noticed Freddy looking at her with a gentle expression. “Penny for your thoughts?” She questioned. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”

It was a moment before he replied. “You do not give yourself enough credit, Vanessa.” His synthesized voice came out warm and surprisingly empathetic. “This is a situation that you were thrown into abruptly, and I think you are doing a remarkable job of it, especially given the circumstances that brought you to this point.”

  “You really think so?” She wondered out loud, folding her hands over her stomach and staring at the ceiling.

  “I know so,” Freddy replied sincerely. “I have seen countless families of all kinds come through the Pizzaplex, and I would say you are doing just as well as any of them.”

  “Thanks, Fred. That… that means a lot,” she smiled gratefully, even if she couldn’t quite agree with him, and gave him a pat on the head. “I just hope Gregory thinks the same. I only want what’s best for him.”

Freddy let out a hum. “Did you see what he was drawing when you came in?” He asked unexpectedly.

  “No, why?” She furrowed her brows, confused at this sudden change in topic.

  “Why don’t you go take a look? After all, he was drawing it for you,” the bear said with a smile.

  “What…” she began, getting up to go peer over at his desk, and whatever she was about to say died in her throat.

The drawing wasn’t finished yet, so it took her a moment to figure out what it was supposed to be, but once she did, there was no denying it. Her and Gregory, sitting on the sofa with Freddy in between them, controllers in hand and matching looks of determination on both their faces. It was a clear depiction of them playing Mario Kart together that first night.

Through the suffocating influx of emotions that had bubbled up in her chest again, the only words she was able to choke out was a quiet “Oh.”

And all she could do was stare at the picture. A picture that, though yet to be finished, he had clearly had put so much time and care into. Maybe it was just a drawing, but to Vanessa, it felt like so much more.

She didn’t touch it, of course, it was his to give her whenever he felt ready. So she left it there and turned to leave the room.

And if Freddy saw the way she swiped at her eyes as she passed, he didn’t mention it.

Chapter Text

Monday was here again, meaning he’d officially been living with Vanessa and Freddy for one whole week. Which… also meant that it was time for him to go back to school. It would also be a new school for him, too. Well, the nature of being a foster kid was that he was shuffled around from school to school fairly often, so he was used to the whole “new kid” schtick. But he was in Grade 6 now, meaning he was officially in “middle school”.

Not only was he the new kid, though, but he was also starting three weeks late into the school year

So Gregory was not very thrilled to be going. At all.

School, in his opinion, was boring and the people there sucked and teachers were never actually good at teaching anyways and he always got in trouble for not being able to focus. Besides, he learned to code outside of school, so he could learn just fine on his own! Wouldn’t it benefit everybody if he just didn’t go? But neither Vanessa nor the social workers seemed to agree with his logic.

Briefly, he tried feigning illness, but Vanessa saw through that one quickly. Then he considered flat-out refusing to get out of bed, but then Freddy had just given him a look and well… he couldn’t disappoint Freddy.

Speaking of Freddy, he was acting strange. One moment he’d be convincing Gregory that school was important and education was a wonderful thing, then the next he’d be fretting over Gregory, and he’d have to convince Freddy that he’d be fine and that he’d be back this afternoon. Freddy even asked once, if he could perhaps accompany Gregory by hiding in his backpack, and while Gregory would’ve done it in a heartbeat because of course he would take Freddy Fazbear with him to school are you kidding me, but they both knew deep down that it was a horrible idea. Besides, Vanessa shot the idea down immediately anyway.

Vanessa also insisted on packing a lunch for him, which was odd. Most of the time his foster parents would just give him a few dollars to get something in the cafeteria or he’d be left to pack something himself.

He stood in the porch, shifting back and forth nervously while waiting for Vanessa to grab some paperwork or something. He spent extra time that morning picking out what to wear. He wasn’t the kind of kid who really cared about clothes, but it was the first day, and he had to look cool right? Eventually he’d settled on a light blue short-sleeved hoodie, and a pair of navy cargo joggers. He was wearing his sneakers from the Pizzaplex, and the new backpack which Vanessa had bought him was red with light blue accents and already on his back and filled with his new school supplies.

He liked his new backpack—he liked it a lot, actually, the colours reminded him of Freddy—but he couldn’t help but think about his old backpack, the one he lost in the Pizzaplex. Not that he cared about that backpack itself—it was plain black and being held together by duct tape—but it was the items inside that he was mourning the loss of. Most notably, the hacked flash drive he’d made.

See, after he and Cassie met, they wanted a way to keep in touch outside of school. However neither of them owned a phone, nor did Gregory own a laptop.

But what Gregory did have was a knack for coding. So secretly, using a computer at school, he programmed a pair of hacked flash drives for himself and Cassie.

Faz-Watches are expensive trinkets with many features, including a chatroom for avid Pizzaplex goers. However this was exclusive to Faz-Watch owners. Well, “exclusive” was merely a suggestion to a determined Gregory. Thanks to Fazbear Entertainment’s abysmal cyber security, he was able to create a back door for Cassie and himself to gain access to this service via flash drives. Their accounts were tied to the flash drives, meaning that you could insert the drive into any computer and you’d be good to go. Which was how Gregory was able to keep in touch with her, he could use it with any old library computer, and not leave any trace of ever having done it after he was done. However, this also meant that without the flash drive, he’d lose access to that chat room.

Which was exactly what had happened.

Even if he programmed a new one for himself, it wouldn’t work because he’d need Cassie’s in order to link them together again. Which, obviously he couldn’t get, bringing him back to the issue at hand.

He’d lost his only form of contact to Cassie.

And unless Cassie happened to be going to the same middle school as him, they wouldn’t be going to the same one anymore.

  “Sorry about that, it took me a minute to find the paperwork. Are you ready to go?” Vanessa asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Oh, right, school.

  “I guess,” he sighed, gripping his backpack straps.

  “Have a good day at school, Gregory. I will miss you. If you are able, please send me a message sometime during the day and tell me how you are doing.” Freddy said, ears drooping. He was acting like Gregory was going away for a month.

  “Jeez Freddy, I'll be fine, I’ll only be gone for a few hours…” Gregory replied sheepishly. Freddy seemed more nervous about Gregory going back to school than he did himself. “But yeah, I will. I’ll message you during lunch, okay?”

  “I will be looking forward to it!”

It felt nice to be cared about.

  “Nervous?” Vanessa asked, glancing at Gregory in the rear view mirror as she drove him to school. Soon he would need to be taking the bus, but Vanessa had to sort out some registration stuff with the principal, so she was accompanying him for today.

He shrugged, not really interested in whatever optimistic nonsense she would have to say. He’d been through this routine enough to know how it would go.

  “I get it, it’s rough being the ‘new kid’,” she said sympathetically. “But, hey, you’re a cool kid. I’m sure you’ll make some friends in no time.”

He snorted at that. As if.

  “I’m serious.” He caught her sharp gaze in the mirror. “As cool as Freddy may be, It’d be good for you to have some human friends.”

  “Yeah, no,” he replied bluntly. “I’m the weird, small kid everybody likes to pick on.” It was a fact he’d long since came to accept. The only friend he’d ever had was Cassie, and she was a social reject herself.

  “Don’t say that about yourself. But If that is the case, you’re allowed to stand up for yourself.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t start fights, but if anybody is trying to mess with you, you can fight back. Sometimes that’s the only way to teach jerks like that a lesson. But, Gregory? Not everybody is out to get you, you know,” she said softly. “I want you to try, okay? Try to make some friends.”

  “I—” he began, voice faltering despite his efforts. He dropped his gaze, Vanessa’s gentleness sparking a prickle of self-conciousness. Shaking his head to hide his flush, he crossed his arms and huffed. “Ugh, whatever. Let’s just go.”

Vanessa’s knowing smile in the mirror only made him even more embarrassed.

Staring.

They tried to pretend they weren’t, but Gregory wasn’t fooled.

Everybody was staring at him.

And could he blame them? He was the quiet, too-short-for-his-age, and hair that looked like it’d been cut himself (it had), kid who was showing up three weeks late. It was a perfect storm of

conspicuousness. That’s not even to mention the fact his face had been plastered on missing posters all over town for the past couple weeks or so.

  Wait… the missing posters! Gregory nearly gasped out loud in the middle of history class. That was it!

The missing posters were put up by Cassie, and they had her dad’s number on it… so if he could find one of the posters again, he’d be able to call Cassie!

Gregory didn’t end up paying much attention in that class. Well, he never usually did anyways—history was so boring in his opinion—but he could not find himself caring about the Dust Bowl or whatever was being taught when he’d just realised he’d found a way to contact Cassie and he might be able to talk to her that day! Oh man, she must’ve been so worried about him. Did she even know that he’d been found and had a new foster… caregiver? What was he supposed to call Vanessa now anyways? Well, that was a thought for another time.

Right now, he needed to think about how he was going to find one of those posters. He could ask Vanessa if they could take a drive around the neighbourhood before going back to her house, maybe he could pass it off as being something he needed to do for school. It’d been less than a month, surely there’d be one still stuck up somewh—

  “Gregory?” The teacher’s voice snapped him back to reality.

He cringed. “Um, yes, sir?”

  “I asked if you could tell me what date the Dust Bowl started and ended, just to make sure you’re paying attention.” The teacher looked at him, raising a brow.

   …Crap.

And now everybody was staring at him again.

Lunch could not come quick enough that day. As soon as he’d sat down he scarfed down the turkey wraps that Vanessa had packed for him (they were quite good) so he could give Freddy a call. He was sitting alone in a corner of the cafeteria, meaning that nobody was close enough that he’d have to worry about anybody hearing.

He told Freddy everything that had happened so far, including getting chewed out by his teacher in front of the whole class for not paying attention. The bear listened intently, he seemed quite fascinated to learn about how school worked, but even more interested in hearing about the boy’s day. Too soon did the bell ring, and Gregory reluctantly had to tell Freddy he had to go.

At least the next period was math. He didn’t hate math.

But man was he ready for school to be over already.

The second Vanessa stepped back into their house after coming back from Gregory's school, she was bombarded with questions from Freddy like “did the registration go alright” and “was he okay” and “did his teachers look nice”, to which she answered all “yes”s to.

Even so, Freddy would hardly go an hour without asking about Gregory again, seeming increasingly and increasingly agitated. The call he shared with him over his lunch break helped some, but it didn’t take long for him to go back to worrying again. Vanessa was… mildly concerned for the boy herself. Not that she didn’t think he was capable or anything, but that he was in a tough situation that’d make any kid anxious, and she was worried about how he’d handle it. 

And, well… when Freddy asked for the umpteenth time if she thought Gregory was doing okay… she snapped.

  “God, Freddy. He’s not an infant! You don’t need to be there hovering over his shoulder every second!” She snapped her mouth shut and winced, regretting the words the moment they left her mouth.

Vanessa had never prided herself on having the best temper, patience for others was thin when you were coping with a malicious entity in your brain 24/7. But she’d thought she was getting better! She’d thought that was one aspect of herself she’d managed to get under control.

Yet another thing she obviously was wrong about.

Freddy’s face fell, causing another pang of guilt to shoot through her chest. “I see,” he whispered, turning his gaze to the floor. “My apologies, Vanessa…”

  “Aw, geez, Freddy…” Vanessa sighed, coming to sit down on the sofa next to him. “I’m sorry, that was harsh. You’re worried about him, and I can’t blame you. I am, too.” She leaned her head back against the sofa. “But it’s just school, every kid goes. He’ll be fine and he’ll be back in a couple hours. Nothing bad is going to happen just because you’re not there, you know.”

  “But it did,” he murmured, staring away from Vanessa with a mournful gaze. “The last time I willingly let him out of my sight was Fazer Blast, where he was captured by Vanny.”

  “…Oh.” Vanessa had no other words to describe the feeling that confession wrought inside her.

Because… it always came down to that, did it? The crux of everybody’s problems always pointed back to her.

Everything was her fault.

Not even bothering to care about Freddy’s aversion towards swearing, she ran a hand through her bangs and mumbled, “Freddy… god, I can’t imagine how that felt— or maybe I can, but— damn.” She drew her knees up to her chin, curling inwards on herself.

  “I'm not good with words,” she confessed weakly. “But, Freddy… I can’t blame you for worrying about him—god knows I am too. But you two, you went through hell together that night, so your fears aren’t completely unjustified.”

Freddy had gone from being a corporate icon and entertainer, to the sole protector of a homeless child in the blink of an eye, being forced to protect him from the ones he once called his friends. That’s not to even mention his loss of everything below the neck. It was no wonder Freddy was so paranoid, hovering around the kid like a helicopter parent. Despite his parental attitude, at the end of the day he didn’t know what he was doing any more than Vanessa did.

She just wished they could’ve talked this out before everything bubbled over. “I forget how much of an adjustment this must be for you, too.”

Freddy sighed, a gesture which robots did not need to do yet would anyway. “I only want what is best for him. I want him to be safe and happy. I just feel so… useless like this.”

  “I know. And that goes for me both of us,” she said earnestly, giving the concerned bear a pat on the head. “But, Freddy… this isn’t the Pizzaplex anymore. Not everything is out to hurt him.”

  “No,” Freddy agreed after a heavy moment of silence. “You are correct… it is not the Pizzaplex.” There was a peculiar feeling of confliction in his voice.

The silence stretched between them for a minute. It wasn’t a particularly uncomfortable silence per se, but you could tell there were things on each other's minds which were left unsaid.

  “I must confess something to you, Vanessa,” he said after a while.

  “Hm?” She turned to give him her full attention, intrigued. It wasn’t often Freddy opened up to her.

  “Back then, on That Night, after Vanny had attempted to disassemble me, I… I told Gregory to get to your hideout and turn the STAFF against her.”

Vanessa raised her eyebrows. It was a bit surprising. Freddy never seemed like the violent type. Then again, the way he stared her down in Fazer Blast…

She would never forget that pure fury he looked upon her with. It sent chills down her spine just reminiscing.

  “Well… that’s only reasonable, right?” She began slowly, unsure why Freddy would be making such a big deal out of it. “I mean, I— she was a crazy masked murderer trying to… y’know. Of course I don’t blame you for trying to attack me— her, whatever.”

  “But, Vanessa…” Freddy interrupted her, a pained look on his plastic face. “I knew it was you under the mask.”

Vanessa just blinked at him, processing the implications of that.

  “We both did,” he continued, voice heavy with regret. “We knew it was you, and that you likely were not the one responsible for your actions, and yet… At that moment, I did not care. I would not have hesitated to disassemble you if it meant his safety.”

Many thoughts and questions ran through her head; only one though she managed to voice. “Why didn’t he?” She asked quietly. “Why did he turn to the arcade game instead?”

  “I do not know,” Freddy admitted. “I do not know why he decided against controlling the STAFF, or how he even knew the arcade cabinet would work. But if he did not make that choice… they would have killed you, and it would have been at my command. I am so very, deeply sorry Vanessa. However, I just felt that you deserved to know. And I want you to know that if I was put in that situation now, I would not do it again.”

  “I would want you to.” Vanessa countered seriously. “Freddy, I don’t blame you for trying to kill me to protect Gregory. Not one bit. And if it came down to it again, if… if she ever came back, I’d want you to do the same.”

  “But Vanessa—”

  “No ‘buts’. Promise me,” she cut him off, almost pleading. Her voice shook, but she kept her gaze steady, meaning every bit of it wholeheartedly. “Promise me that you would do whatever it took to keep him safe, even if it killed me.”

  “I…” he faltered. “I do not like it, Vanessa. I want you to be safe, too. But if it was indeed the only solution… I agree,” he conceded finally. “But only if it was absolutely the only option.”

Vanessa let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Thank you, Fred.” She nodded, satisfied at his answer.

That was something that had truthfully been weighing on her mind for a while. Not a day— no, hardly an hour went by where the idea of Vanny returning didn’t cross her mind.

Deep down, a part of her somehow just knew that she was gone; had known it from the moment Gregory had beat that last arcade cabinet. It was like something intangible had snapped inside of her, her connection with the virus shattering like it was nothing more than a chain made of glass.

She was wholly herself again, she knew that in her heart.

But, there was always the possibility that she could be wrong, and Vanny could just be “dormant” or could come back at any time. There was no precedent for what had happened to her, she couldn’t be certain of anything. So one thing she wanted to be certain of was that, no matter what, The kid’s safety would be put first.

She leaned back against the sofa with a sigh. “We’ve still got an hour until I gotta pick Gregory up from school, do you wanna watch some TV?”

It was an abrupt change in topic, but Vanessa didn’t want to ruminate on the mere thought of Vanny returning any longer. She forced herself to shove those thoughts back away into the crevasse of her brain where she stored any and all thoughts relating to Vanny and the virus that wormed its way into her head. She could process them later, right?

  “Yes, I would like that,” Freddy said contentedly.

So Vanessa grabbed the remote and flicked through the channels, landing on some random documentary, and let the droning voice of a narrator explaining the history of beekeeping fill the living room and ease the tension that their conversation had wrought.

If there was one thing that she had discovered about the animatronic since his time living with her, it was that he loved documentaries. They could be about the most mundane things, yet he would be utterly captivated by whatever it was. He had this almost childish sense of wonder about the world around him, which Vanessa guessed made sense—he’d been confined to the Pizzaplex ever since his initial creation, after all. But his enthusiasm over even the tiniest and most commonplace of things was kind of endearing, and gave her a new appreciation for some aspects of everyday life, too.

It was a shame that Freddy couldn’t truly experience the outside world in person, he was just too conspicuous.

There was a lot about their situation she couldn’t fix, but maybe, she thought, sizing up Freddy, she might have a remedy for this.

  “Heya kiddo!” Vanessa called out from her truck the moment she saw Gregory plodding out to the parking lot at his school.

He snapped his head up to find the source of the voice, relaxing when he noticed Vanessa’s navy-blue truck waiting for him.

  “Hi, Vanessa,” he replied with significantly less enthusiasm, flinging open the backseat door to climb in, but gasped upon seeing what lay behind. “Wha— Freddy?!” He gasped, quickly slamming the door shut behind him, grinning. “I thought you weren’t allowed out!”

Vanessa chuckled at his reaction. “The big guy wanted to come pick you up, too! I figured there was no harm if he stayed in the car.”

  “Indeed! Vanessa showed me many sights on the way here. Hurricane is such a fascinating city!” Freddy said joyously. He’d spent the whole drive “ooh”ing and “ahh”ing at everything they passed. It wasn’t much, all things considered, but it seemed to make Freddy happy, so… maybe it was enough. For now, at least.

  “Ready to head home?” She asked, pulling out of the parking lot.

  “Um, well…” Gregory hesitated, fidgeting with a zipper on his backpack. “Could we… drive around the neighbourhood a bit first?”

  “Sure.” Vanessa shrugged. It was a bit of an odd request, but maybe he was just in the mood for a little drive, or maybe he just wanted to take Freddy sightseeing. “Any particular reason?”

  “I’m… looking for something,” he said vaguely, keeping his eyes fixed out the window.

  “Hmm,” she replied thoughtfully, picking up on his evasiveness. Wanna tell us what it is? That way maybe we can help.”

  “It’s…” he bit his lip. “I’m looking for one of my missing posters,” he admitted quickly, squirming in his seat.

She raised an eyebrow in surprise. She didn’t know what she was expecting him to say, but that was not it. “I didn’t know they had posters put out for you. Why do you want one?”

  “Well… I had a friend, her name was Cassie. I think she was the one who put them up,” he confessed. “But I lost contact with her after I ran away, so I thought that if I found one of the posters and called the number on it… I’d be able to talk to her again.”

Now that he mentioned it, Vanessa did recall hearing him talk about a Cassie back at the Pizzaplex. She felt kinda bad for not asking about her sooner. But of course, she had heard about Cassie when she was Vanny, so she technically had no business knowing already… It was a weird situation, and made her head hurt thinking about it too hard.

  “Sure.” She nodded. “We’re in no rush, me and Fred can keep an eye out too.”

And they did. After around twenty minutes of aimlessly driving around the city, Gregory spied one of his posters on a telephone pole and urged her to stop the car, so he could hop out and grab it.

It was a bit weathered by the elements after almost a month of being up, but it was undoubtedly Gregory, and the phone number at the bottom was still plainly legible.

Vanessa tried to ignore all the other missing posters tacked up around it, too. A mix of vibrant new ones plastered over old, sun-faded and rain-smudged ones.

So many faces.

As soon as they got home that afternoon, Vanessa lent Gregory her cellphone so that he could try calling her immediately, which he held with exceeding care. She let him bring it into his room too, so that he could have a bit of privacy during his call, and he could use it as long as he liked, Vanessa didn’t really care.

But he was only in there for one, maybe two minutes, before he came back out and handed the phone to Vanessa again, a mixture of disappointment and confusion written on his face.

  “No answer?” Vanessa asked sympathetically, taking the phone back. “No worries, you can always try again later.”

  “No, that’s not it, it… it said that the number had been disconnected.” He looked distressed. “I definitely didn’t put in the wrong number, I tried three times! And Cassie never told me she would be moving or anything… I-I don’t get it, why didn’t it work?!”

  “Hey,” she said gently, putting her hands on his shoulders. “Deep breaths, I’m sure she’s fine. Do you know where she lives?”

He sniffled. “Kinda… like, I could find it if I saw a couple landmarks.”

  “Then one day soon I’ll take you to go see her, okay? It’ll be fine.”

  “Thanks, Vanessa,” he said quietly, wrapping his arms around his middle. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m— I just miss her. She was my only friend.”

  “We’ll do our best to find her, I promise.” She smiled softly, giving his shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “Listen, if it makes you feel any better, I have a little surprise for later. You’ll need to finish your homework first, though.”

  “A surprise?” He perked up, lifting his head to look at her curiously. “What is it?”

  “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, now would it?” She laughed. “Go get your homework done and you’ll find out.”

It wasn’t until after supper she revealed the surprise. Gregory came out of his room to find bowls, ice cream, and an assortment of toppings lined up on the kitchen counter.

  “Ice cream!” He gasped, rushing over and gazing at the treats. “You bought ice cream!”

  “Yep. You deserve a treat for your first day of school,” Vanessa said, coming up behind him. “Go nuts, make yourself a sundae.”

Sightseeing wasn’t the only thing she had done with Freddy on the way to Gregory’s school that morning, she had popped in the store to get some stuff for sundaes. In her opinion, the kid absolutely deserved a treat. And a little bit of excess sugar wouldn’t hurt him, especially not with how scrawny he still was. 

  “I can put whatever I want on it?” He questioned, wide-eyed.

  “Yup. But,” she held up a finger, “if you make yourself sick, don’t blame it on me.”

Was she going to have a very hyperactive kid to have to deal with later at bedtime? Probably. But it was absolutely worth it to see his grin and the way he eagerly rushed to concoct whatever ice cream abomination his heart desired.

Chapter Text

Soft footsteps pounded against metal as she ran across the bridge. “What are you doing?!” She screeched. The brat had made it to her hideout and was messing around on the arcade machine.

But that wouldn’t be a problem, because there was nowhere for him to run.

The little bunny had himself cornered. She smiled underneath her mask, twirling her knife between her gloved fingers as she rapidly closed the distance between herself and the child.

  “GOTCHA!” She yelled, much too cheerfully considering the gravity of the situation. With her free hand, she grabbed the boy’s collar and yanked him away from the machine, spinning him around to face her. The other hand, wielding the knife, she pointed directly at his face.

This was the best part, she thought, grinning from ear to ear. When they yell, squirm, fruitlessly attempt to fight back, only to realise it’s useless, and lose all fight. That moment, when they stare down the blade angled at them, and you can see the pure fear, the crushing realisation in their wide eyes, that there’s no escaping this, that they’ll never leave this place. Oh, how she savoured that look!

  “Nowhere to run, little rabbit?” She taunted, leaning down and watching as the red glow from her mask illuminated his face in the darkened room and perfectly highlighted the fear etched into every one of his features. “It’s been fun, but you’ve proved to be such a pain! We could have been happy, you know. None of this had to happen!” She pushed the tip of the blade ever closer, mere millimetres from the space between his eyes. “But alas, you rejected our oh-so generous offer. So now I have to kill you!”

The boy screwed his eyes shut, and flung his arm backwards, smacking into the buttons of the arcade cabinet. The whole room seemed to hold its breath, waiting.

But nothing happened.

Or, rather, something did happen, but not the outcome he might’ve been hoping for. A somber tune emitted from the speakers. Two simple words printed across the screen.

GAME OVER.

And then she laughed. A maniacal, hysterical laugh, like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. “Did you really think,” she leered once she’d regained her composure, “that you’d be able to save her?”

  “N-No… it was supposed to work! why didn’t it work?” The boy barely whispered, gaze darting back and forth desperately for something, anything that might save him.

But he found nothing.

  “It’s been fun, little rabbit, but it’s time we ended this game, don’tcha think?”

Any façade of bravery the child might have tried to maintain crumbled. He let out a sob, trying to wriggle free from her grasp but his sneakers squeaked against the floor fruitlessly. Her grip on his collar was like iron. In a last, irrational attempt to dodge this fate, like a child might call out for their parent, he screamed out a single word. “FREDDY!”

But Freddy wouldn’t answer his call. He couldn’t, because she had already taken care of him.

He lifted his large, tear-filled eyes to meet her eerie red ones. He didn’t seem to notice that the knife wasn’t in front of his face anymore.

No, she had shifted it to be levelled at his chest. She flicked her wrist.

Or maybe this was the best part, she thought. Watching the shock in a victim’s eyes when they realise the handle of the knife is now sticking out of their flesh, buried to the hilt. The confusion, the innocent incomprehension on their face, before the pain registers.

He let out a small gasp of pain, his knees giving out beneath him, but she was there to keep him upright. He wasn’t allowed to rest yet. He cried out when she removed the knife, the blood blossoming from the wound quickly staining his blue shirt a dark crimson.

She yanked his face up close to hers, staring him directly in the amber coloured eyes that were already beginning to glass over. “You wanted to be a saviour?” She hissed. “Well, I’ll make you an angel.”

She tossed him to the floor and he crumpled like a ragdoll, landing on his stomach. He curled in on himself, making pitiful, hiccuping sobs as he tried to shield his wound from the world, as if it could stop the pain if he curled himself tight enough.

But she dropped down, hunching over him and raised her now-dripping knife again. She plunged it downwards, cleaving a clean gash down one side of the boy’s back as easily as one might cut through butter, and did the same to the other side.

His screams were a symphony to her ears.

She dipped her knife into the wounds again, expertly and effortlessly severing his small rib cage away from his spine, then plunged her hands directly into the gashes.

She did not know at what point during all of this the child had finally died, just that his small whimpers and twitches of agony had long since ceased. All she knew was the glorious adrenaline rushing through her ears, the warm, sticky liquid soaking her fursuit gloves and chafing her hands, and the snap of cartilage and tendons as she dug around inside the boy and pulled his rib bones out of his chest with only her hands through the slits she had created in his back.

A fascinated sigh escaped her. Oh, how she had been wanting to try this on someone for ages!

She plunged her hands into the wounds once more, groping around inside his chest until her hands found two small, fleshy lumps.

Those got pulled out through the slits, too.

Then she stepped back, admiring her work. Rivulets of red streamed out of the two symmetrical gashes in the boy’s back, pooling on the floor around his body and mixing with the blood from his initial wound. Protruding through the gashes were the boy’s ribs, still dripping in blood with bits of muscle and sinew clinging to the bones, fashioned into the likeness of a grotesque pair of wings. Two small pink lungs rested atop these bones, completing the look.

A satisfying end, she thought, as she stared down at the small, lifeless body with a grin of satisfaction under her masked face.

A pair of bloody angel wings, befitting the boy who could not save her.

A laugh tore itself from her throat, and another, and another, growing in intensity. She was surrounded by the sounds of her own manic glee, and all she could see was red. The red on her knife, the red of her vision, the red coating her hands and knees, the red pooling around the boy’s corpse laying at her feet. And suddenly she was drowning in it, the blood seeping in through her mask and everything was red and yet the laugh never wavered, becoming a single, ceaseless, high pitched noise even as the blood poured down her throat and filled her lungs, drowning her in her ecstasy—

Vanessa woke up with a gasp, coughing and sputtering like something was trying to force its way down her throat. Sweat plastered her bangs to her forehead, and her sheets had been kicked off and were knotted and pooled somewhere around her ankles.

She clutched at her chest that was thumping erratically. What had woken her up? Why was she shaking? All she remembered was the feeling of perfect, gleeful joy and… the colour red.

So much red.

The full force of her dream came rushing back all at once, and any of Vanny’s lingering euphoria that she still felt was swiftly replaced by horror and repulsion.

She choked out horrified sob, the image of Gregory’s terrified face and small, mangled body burned into her retinas.

  No, no, no, that isn’t how it went! She cupped her clean, not blood-covered hands over her mouth to stifle her gasps. Gregory’s fine, he freed you! You didn’t kill him he’s okay, it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay—

She flicked her gaze around her darkened room, her room in their new house. The new house that she’d got because she was fostering Gregory, and she wouldn’t be fostering Gregory unless he was okay.

But her brain didn’t get the memo.

Didn’t matter if the logical part of her knew that Gregory was sleeping peacefully in his room just down the hall, all she could feel was the sensation of his blood covering her hands and the snap of his little ribs being ripped from his spine.

She’d had nightmares since being freed, of course, but never as bad as this. She’d always been able to force herself to tuck those horrid memories back into the deepest crevasses of her mind. She could deal with them later, she’d told herself. Process the grief after she’d helped Gregory escape the Pizzaplex, after she’d dropped him off to social services, after she’d gotten everything prepared for his arrival, after she’d helped him get settled in, after she’d helped him process his trauma. Always forcing herself to keep going for his sake, always telling herself she could deal with it later.

Well, it seemed like her brain had decided that “later” was now.

She broke. Everything that she’d tried to suppress spilled out like a crack had opened up somewhere deep inside of her.

Curled up amongst her tousled bedding, her hair loose and tangled around her face, she sobbed. Anguished, desperate sobbing that racked at her chest and choked at her throat. Her only coherent thought was to grab a pillow and clutch it to her face almost to the point of suffocating herself so she wouldn’t disturb Gregory with her visceral wails.

The full force of the memories that she’d tried so hard to repress flooded her head. The smooth voice of the entity that lived in her head, whom she had trusted once upon a time. The paranoia of waking up and not knowing yet knowing all too well what horrible deed her body might’ve been used for while she was unconscious. Sweat dripping down her neck inside of that horrible rabbit costume as she pursued a target. Every terrified scream, every gristly death, every small body. And unlike her nightmare, those were real.

A guttural cry tried to claw its way out of her throat, which she just barely suppressed. 

How dare she have been here, living out this innocent domestic life that’d formed around her and pretending like everything was okay, when there were numerous families out there ripped apart and left to grieve because of her.

How dare she be thankful that Gregory’s blood wasn’t on her hands, when the blood of countless others were.

How dare she be so selfish, so complacent, so cowardly and utterly, irredeemably vile.

And there was that small voice in her head again—no, not the virus. Her own small voice, wishing that she had killed herself the moment she had first seen that rabbit-like figure in her vision. It would have prevented so much grief, despair, heartache. Not just for her victims and their loved ones, but for herself, too.

But she wouldn’t do it now. No, she’d missed her chance for an escape like that long ago. She didn’t deserve to have a reprieve, an easy out, from the grief of the actions caused by her own two hands. Besides, she had Gregory to worry about now, she had promised not to abandon him.

Her skin was crawling, like a thick, grimy sludge was writhing just under the surface. Like it was poison flowing through her veins. She clutched at her forearms, trying to stop the sensation. But she couldn’t, it wouldn’t stop, all she felt was the crawling and scratchy fursuit and the sticky blood and she needed it off, off, off off off offoffoffOFFOFF—!

Until she froze, feeling the familiar horrible feeling of blood seeping underneath her fingernails.

She held up her hand, and through the faint moonlight shining through a crack in the curtains, she could faintly see a red glaze on the tips of her fingers. And on her forearms, thin white scratches in parallel rows, with beads of blood forming on them, left by her fingernails in her desperation.

But it didn’t work, all it’d left her with was arms beginning to sting painfully. The sludge, the evil still writhed and churned underneath.

It was her own skin she was trapped inside of.

Because, at the end of the day, did it really matter who, or what the intentions behind everything were? Nothing could change the fact that it was her voice who lured those kids away with sickly sweet promises, her legs who eagerly ran to pursue them, her hands that held the knife and acted out the gorey deed.

Her body, her skin.

Even if it wasn’t her consciousness behind the action, the action was still carried out by her.

Those people, those children were dead, and nothing she felt or tried to convince herself could change that.

She wasn’t sure how long she laid there, sobbing her guts out. Time didn’t exist, it could have been 3am or 3pm, the minutes blurred together and all she knew was suffocating grief pressing against her chest that no amount of tears or screaming or thrashing would do anything to lessen the ache of.

But tears were a finite resource, and eventually those had to leave her too, leaving her wallowing in self-loathing with a still, quiet numbness.

According to the small alarm clock on her bedside table, it was barely four in the morning yet, meaning she’d gotten, at most, three hours of sleep in. Which was probably all she’d get. The moment she closed her eyes to attempt to fall back asleep, all she could see was Gregory’s bloody, broken body seared into the back of her eyelids. She promptly flung them back open.

She couldn’t take it anymore, she swung her legs over the side of her bed and shakily rose to her feet, feeling an intense urge to be anywhere but there.

Maybe… she could quickly check on Gregory. Maybe seeing him okay with her own two eyes would calm her enough to at least rest with her eyes closed or something. Because there was no way she was going back to sleep now.

She clicked on the light and tiptoed through the silent hallway, gingerly turning the handle to the boy’s door so that she wouldn’t wake him with its creaking.

When she peeked into the darkened bedroom, she had expected to see Gregory peacefully huddled under his blankets sleeping.

Instead, she found him sitting up with his face buried in his knees, a blanket thrown across his head and shoulders that were shaking slightly. He lifted his head up at the sound of his door opening and blinked into the glaring influx of light into the room.

  “Gregory…? What are you doing up?” Her voice came out much hoarser than she’d expected. Then her eyes widened. “Shit, I’m sorry, did I wake you—” her throat hitched, and another hot tear stubbornly squeezed itself out of her eyes. She wrapped her arms around her torso, crumpling in on herself. “I’m— god, I’m sorry, it’s stupid I-I just had to make sure you were okay I’ll leave you alone now—” she choked out nonsensically, turning to leave.

  “No, you didn’t wake me, I was already up…” Gregory whispered, his voice similarly hoarse. His eyes were red and puffy and his brows were furrowed in concern as he peered at Vanessa. “I was gonna ask what you were doing.”

She didn’t answer, and instead gently closed the door, leaving it open only a crack as she stepped into the bedroom.

  “Bad dream?” She guessed, coming to sit down next to his bed.

He gave a tiny nod, and settled back down into his sheets.

  “Me too.”

  “Oh,” Gregory whispered. “Do you… want to talk about it?”

She turned her head to look at him, surprised. “I should be the one asking you,” she replied, smiling sadly. “You know I'm always here for you if you’re struggling, no matter the hour.”

  “It’s fine, I…” He wouldn’t meet her gaze. “This happens a lot. I-I know it’s kinda silly,” he huffed humorlessly. “I know I’m too old to ask for comfort or whatever after a nightmare. I’ve woken up Freddy a couple times, and he helps, but I don’t like bothering him so much.” They both stared at Freddy’s head charging on his nightstand, in sleep mode.

Vanessa sighed. She wasn’t mad at him or anything, just… upset. Upset that Freddy had neglected to mention this to her, upset that Gregory felt the need to bottle up his feelings and put on a brave face for her. She was well aware that that made her a hypocrite. “Gregory, I want you to bother me about this sort of stuff. It's not ‘silly’ to have a nightmare. Believe me, I know,” she sighed, resting her head back against his mattress. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

He shook his head, squeezing his eyes closed. “…Not really. What about you?”

  “Kid, you’re not the one who should be worrying about me—”

  “I’ll talk about my nightmare if you tell me about yours first.”

She turned to look at him again, unimpressed. “Really? You’re gonna play this game?”

She did not want to tell him about her dream, the last thing he needed was any more nightmare fuel. But then again… trust went both ways. If she wanted him to open up to her, she’d have to set an example, right?

Maybe he was genuinely curious, or maybe he was just looking for an excuse to stall talking about his traumas. Either way, he had her in a checkmate and he knew it. “…Fine. You win,” she relented, and patted the space on the bed next to him. “Mind if I scoot in?”

Gregory shrugged and scooted backwards to give her room, pulling back the covers for her. It was a little cramped as his bed was only a twin sized, but not uncomfortably so, and she curled herself up at the very edge of the bed so that she wasn’t invading his personal space.

She stared at the ceiling, well aware that Gregory was looking at her expectantly to begin.

  “It was about her,” she finally uttered.

  “Vanny?”

She nodded. “Yeah. It was when she caught you playing the arcade cabinet in her hideout. But you lost the game, and she—no, I killed you. I ripped you apart and laughed , and I— god,” she swallowed thickly, tears threatening to spill over again.

  “But you didn’t.” Gregory’s voice drew her back to reality. “You didn’t kill me. I beat Princess Quest and kicked Vanny’s ass and we’re okay.” He grinned at her, then he took on a more serious tone. “And, Vanessa, even if you did kill me? I wouldn’t blame you—at least, not after I knew the truth. Because it wasn’t you.”

  “But—”

  “Seriously,” he repeated. “It wasn’t you.”

Maybe she still couldn’t believe it herself, but his simple, genuine words managed to worm their way into her heart anyway. It didn’t make the ache of the grief go away, but perhaps ever-so-slightly softened it. She reached out and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a hug, resting her chin on his head and rubbing his back—his back which was free from any gashes or jutting bone.

  “Thank you,” she whispered into his hair. She wasn’t just saying thanks for his words.

He flinched at the sudden touch but didn’t pull away, then hesitantly threw his own arm around Vanessa’s waist.

  “You know,” he said after a minute, shifting back so he could look at Vanessa, “you never told me how the whole ‘mind control’ thing even worked.”

  “No, I didn’t.” She was well aware that they’d been avoiding the topic for weeks now.

  “Well,” he began thoughtfully, "as the person who freed you, don’t I have a right to know?”

  “I… suppose so.” She did not want to talk about it, never wanted to talk about it. But he unfortunately was right and it was going to come up sooner or later so she might as well rip the bandaid off now. Though of course, she wasn’t going to tell him everything. There were things that—though the kid had experienced some pretty messed up shit himself—she would gloss over for his benefit. Some details that he didn’t need to know.

She cleared her throat, rolling over so that she was staring at the ceiling. “Alright, might as well make yourself comfortable, kid. Guess it’s time for ‘Vanessa’s trauma storytime’.”

  “Oh boy,” Gregory exclaimed with sarcastic excitement, snuggling down and clutching the hem of his comforter as he waited for her to begin.

  “Did you ever hear about that VR game they were making about the old Freddy’s rumours?” She finally began.

  “I think so?” He frowned hesitantly. “Didn’t it get cancelled or something? What about it?”

  “Yeah. I think I’ve mentioned that I didn’t have the greatest childhood. My dad sucked, so the moment I turned eighteen, I left. Went to college for game development and tried to scrape by. Well, it was the summer before my junior year, And I saw an advertisement looking for beta testers for this new VR game. I was desperate for money and loved video games, so I jumped at the chance.”

He looked confused, but kept his mouth shut and waited for her to continue.

  “It was fun, at first. I’d always been amused by the ‘Freddy’s ghost stories’. It was a little scary in VR, sure, but it was just a game, it couldn’t actually hurt me, right?” She sighed, recalling her blissful naïveté back then, and wishing she could go back in time to slap some sense into her younger self. “Then I started finding these tapes. They were purple, and kinda glitchy looking. I also found a secret room, with a tape player. The tapes contained a woman’s voice, talking about how she was a beta tester too, and about some weird ‘anomaly’ in the game that appeared after they scanned in some old circuit boards provided by Fazbear. It didn’t take me long to find what she was talking about. A greenish, glitchy apparition wearing a crude rabbit suit with purple eyes and clothing had appeared in the hallway of the hub world.”

His eyes widened at the mention of a green rabbit suit. “Didn’t the murderer in those rumours wear a greenish rotting rabbit suit?”

Vanessa nodded. “Exactly. So that’s just what I thought it was, a fun, creepy Easter egg. So I eagerly hunted for the rest of the tapes. They started getting… darker, in tone,” she trailed off, remembering the vivid description of another beta tester who had committed suicide by slicing off his face with the office’s guillotine paper cutter. “She talked about how she made these tapes to split up the essence of this ‘anomaly’, as apparently they were unable to remove it from the code. With every tape I collected, the anomaly would get closer. More… solid. ‘But it’s just a game’ I told myself, even though something in my gut told me otherwise.”

  “Abruptly, the ‘tape girl’’s tone changed. Instead of telling me she wanted to keep the tapes apart, she told me to collect them all, and let the entity begin to ‘merge’ with me or something, and gave me instructions on how to cut it off so I could ‘destroy’ it. I thought that that must be like a cool secret ending to the game… so I followed the instructions.” Her voice had begun to shake, so she took a moment to compose herself. “Immediately after, I got a massive headache, so I told my coworkers and went home for the day, then laid down to take a nap. When I woke up, the entity was there standing in my bedroom watching me. I wasn’t wearing the VR headset—I checked about half a dozen times—and I wasn’t dreaming. It was real. ”

  “What did it do?” Gregory asked.

  “At first? Not much. He—it told me that it wasn’t really there and it was just in my head and that we’d be sharing this body.” She chuckled, but there was no humour in it. “I freaked out, naturally. Thought I was going crazy.” She paused, the memories coming rushing back. “It was… surprisingly chill, at first. He was kind to me, charming, though maybe a bit eccentric. Pretty soon after the studio that was developing that VR game went under—I’m not sure exactly what happened, but I know it had to do with the anomaly—and Fazbear Entertainment ended up hiring most of the displaced employees, myself included. Mr. Rabbit dude in my brain even helped me get a much better job then I was qualified for: cyber security.”

  “So… was he mind controlling you back then?”

  “Not… exactly. He had some level of control—it was almost like he could force me into the passenger seat of my own brain from time-to-time. Which I hated… but it never caused any harm—in fact, it had always been to help me in some way, so I let it happen. Against my better judgement, I found myself trusting him.”

She screwed her eyes closed, taking another couple deep breaths. She felt a hand grab her own, and she turned to see Gregory shyly looking at her with concern. She gave his hand a squeeze, to acknowledge his presence and to try and convey to him she was okay, even if she really wasn’t.

   “It was small, at first,” she admitted quietly, letting go of his hand to wrap her arms around her waist. “Things like casually mentioning how easy it would be to make an annoying coworker of mine disappear, or making me hold a knife a fraction longer than necessary while doing the dishes. I passed it off as just another one of his ‘quirks’, because I trusted him. Hell, I even went to him for advice sometimes.”

It went deeper than that. Over time, if she was being honest with herself, she had almost begun to view this entity as the supportive father figure she never had. Something he had encouraged, and took advantage of. He used the same manipulation tactics her biological father had used to keep her fearful and complacent. And by the time she finally realised it, she was already too far gone.

Gregory gave a low whistle. “Yikes. Hey, you called the rabbit dude an ‘it’ but now you’re using ‘he’, so which is it? What was their deal anyway?”

  “It went by many names. It seemed to change its mind on the day. Sometimes it called itself Glitchtrap, sometimes Malhare—” Gregory snorted at the pun, “—and occasionally simply just ‘Master’. But one day, it slipped and called itself William.”

The name didn’t appear to mean anything Gregory, so she continued, “I did some research. Did you know that the cofounder of Freddy’s was named William Afton?”

That elicited a reaction. “Afton… like, the freaky child murder in those games? Purple dude or whatever?”

  “Yeah, I uh…” she licked her dry lips. “…I don’t think they’re just rumours anymore.”

  “Oh,” he said meekly.

  “I also found out that he used to wear a yellow rabbit suit with a purple vest and bow tie. Sound familiar?”

He stared at her, opening and closing his mouth a couple times while he scrambled for what to say. “So… you’re saying that ‘Springtrap’ or whatever the heck his name was was real and was living in your head as a permanent roommate?”

  “Kinda, yeah. The circuit boards that were scanned into the VR game—that caused the anomaly to appear in the first place—allegedly came from old animatronics. It’s possible that one of them was from that old rabbit suit and somehow contained Afton’s consciousness… I don’t know.” She ran her hands through her hair. “It sounds crazy! I know! But it’s the best guess I have, and… is it really any crazier than a computer virus living in my head in the first place?”

  “Damn.” Was all Gregory had to respond to that with.

  “When he—Glitchtrap, William, whatever you want to call him—found out I’d been snooping into his past, he was, uh… not very happy.” She rubbed her fingers absently, remembering the feeling of the metal crushing down on her thumb while her own hand unwillingly tightened the screw.

She cleared her throat. “Anyways, it spiralled from there, his influence getting stronger and stronger, and his actions more and more sinister, and I was powerless to stop it.” She paused as the hopeless feelings paranoia and weakness she had felt in those days that came rushing back to her. “People began to notice I was acting strange. Turns out, using a company computer to google ‘how to induce compliance in human subjects’ and ‘medieval torture methods’ sets off some major red flags in the system.” Gregory sucked in a breath at that. “So they sent me to company mandated therapy sessions.”

  “I hate therapists,” he grumbled.

Vanessa raised an eyebrow at him. That was… a remark she’d have to ask him about later. “Yeah, well, it didn’t take long for the therapist to start asking ‘uncomfortable’ questions. So Glitchtrap asked me to kill her. I refused, and he knew he would not be able to do it properly if I was unwilling… so he created a follower who would always listen.”

  “Vanny?” He whispered.

  “Vanny was… well, my ‘evil doppelganger’, essentially. He created this alter ego to be the perfect servant and trapped my free will away in the Princess Quest arcade cabinet—which I still don’t really know how that worked,” she admitted. “He said that he was ‘doing me a favour, really’, as in exchange for letting Vanny take over my body from time to time, I would not have to remember what she did. I would black out, essentially.”

Her voice shook. “I wasn’t stupid, I knew they were using my body for horrible, horrible deeds, even if I didn’t know exactly what. But I was powerless to stop it. He made three therapists disappear in the span of four months. And then, he somehow got me the head security job at the Pizzaplex, and I was forced to do his bidding, carrying out his twisted ‘jobs’ for three years.”

She was the security guard, she was supposed to have kept people safe! But she did anything but, using her privilege as a means to garner trust and her authority to cover it all up. She couldn't imagine Hell being any worse than what those years were, she was simultaneously the demon and the condemned, a horrible cycle of causing despair yet being the one to wallow in it. A hell that part of her had begun to believe she would never be free from until either the mercy of death or a slip-up from Vanny resulting in her imprisonment. She would have been grateful for either.

Until, a certain young boy showed up. And against all odds, had managed to live. And not only save himself, but risk it all again to save her. A blessing that she didn't deserve, and wondered to herself every day how she was possibly fortunate enough to have received.

  “Until you came along,” she finished in a whisper.

  “Gregory?” She turned her head to the side, only to notice that the boy’s eyes were closed and he had gone completely silent save for his small, gentle puffs of breath. He must have been exhausted, Vanessa thought with a twinge of pity, if he was able to fall asleep while she was monologuing about murderers and mind control.

When she went to slip out of his bed, though, Gregory shifted, mumbling something unintelligible in his sleep and then tossed his arms around her, keeping her there.

She gasped softly, and stayed perfectly still, but he didn’t so much as stir again.

It was like if a cat fell asleep in your lap, no way in hell you’d move and risk disturbing it.

   Looks like I’m staying here for the night…

Despite everything, Vanessa found herself with a smile. “Goodnight, kiddo,” she whispered, snuggling down into the blankets herself.

She was so gonna tease him about this in the morning.

Chapter Text

For once, Greg was actually excited to go to school. It was Halloween, meaning they’d forfeit half a day of school in favour of a class wide costume party. The kiddo—albeit sheepishly—admitted he wanted to go as Freddy for Halloween. Which Freddy seemed to find incredibly flattering, only adding to Gregory’s embarrassment about the whole situation.

They had to get creative with the costume, as they couldn’t exactly waltz into the Pizzaplex and pick up an official one from Glamrock Gifts.

Because yep, the Pizzaplex was still closed. Which Fazbear Entertainment was being incredibly vague about to the public—you couldn’t exactly say that your main stars had gone missing and twelve dead employee bodies were found in the cafeteria and expect people to still want to bring their families there for a fun-filled afternoon—so they used vague excuses such as they were “undergoing renovations”… and not still under police investigation.

She never told Greg any of this, because the last thing he needed was something else to be worried about, but truth be told, the fate of the Pizzaplex had been like a dark shadow looming behind her. Because really, she did a pretty scuffed-up job of absolving herself from suspicion.

Vanessa… didn’t really care about what would happen to her back then. She was really only trying to hide evidence of Gregory ever being there, not herself. She deleted the security footage and staged a haphazard break-in, sure, but all it would take is a testimony from one of the animatronics for all suspicion to be shifted to her. Hell, she even left the fursuit covered in her DNA laying in a heap in that secret room above Fazer Blast for anybody to come across.

Part of her had felt that she deserved it, that she should be locked away to rot in a cell for the rest of her life.

And then on impulse, she signed up to foster Gregory.

She had something worth living for again.

And the knowledge that, because of her prior apathy, a new piece of evidence pointing the crimes back to her could be uncovered at any moment and rip away this fragile life she’d begun to build up, was goddamn terrifying.

But the only animatronic left to possibly snitch on her was the DJ, and he didn’t have a voice box, and allegedly the investigators had long since stopped trying to interrogate him through what amounted to an elaborate game of charades.

Or maybe her gamble had just really paid off, and she’d underestimated Fazbear’s willingness to sweep things under the rug.

But whatever the case may be, as the weeks passed and no SWAT team came to burst down their door and drag her off to prison, she found herself being able to breathe a bit more freely.

Which was where they stood now, almost two months after the events of That Night, and the Pizzaplex still in some sort of limbo.

…So all that to say that they were unable to get an official Freddy Fazbear costume for Greg, and had to turn instead to more creative methods.

At the thrift store she’d picked up an orange hoodie which she’d sewn a large oval of cream-coloured fleece to, and topped it off with a lightning bolt made from cyan craft felt with a bow tie and studded arm bands made from black felt and stick-on rhinestones. Gregory himself had made a pair of ears and a top hat out of cardboard and construction paper which he glued to an old headband of Vanessa’s. To complete the look he was wearing a pair of brown shorts and red crew socks, along with his Freddy Fazbear-branded sneakers. She even offered to do his makeup with the iconic face markings and give him an electric-cyan manicure, both of which Gregory was hesitant towards at first, but she could see the way his eyes lit up when he looked himself in the mirror after it was finished.

  “Thank you, Vanessa!” He beamed, hopping off the stool in the bathroom where she’d been doing his makeup.

  “No problem bud,” she replied, smiling, as she cleaned off the makeup brushes. “Why don’t we go see what Freddy thinks?”

Gregory skidded into the living room, where Freddy was patiently waiting to see the finished costume, and struck a goofy pose. “Whaddya think?”

  “Why, superstar,” Freddy gasped, “you look wonderful! I am incredibly honoured that you chose to dress in my likeness for this occasion.”

The face paint did little to hide the flush that had appeared on Gregory’s cheeks. “You really think so?” He mumbled with an embarrassed grin. “I wanted to look cool, like you.”

  “You look even cooler!” Freddy assured him, beaming with pure joy and affection. “I have no doubts that you will be the coolest kid at the costume party, superstar!”

Vanessa, laughing at their interaction, pulled out her phone to get some pictures of Greg in his costume with Freddy, as well as some of him on his own. The grin on both their faces made all the discomfort she’d felt in picking up a needle and thread for the first time since Vanny worth it.

Running low on time, Gregory quickly scarfed down a piece of pumpkin bread for breakfast—kudos of the landlady.

The landlady, Mrs. Wells—or just “Rosemary”, she’d insist they call her—had come to visit a few times since they’d moved in. Not just to check on the house, but to check in on them, too, and always brought a baked good or a soup or some kind with her. Which made for some panicked scrambles to hide Freddy when she’d come knocking unexpectedly.

She positively doted on Gregory (who was slowly warming up to the lady), and could sit down with Vanessa with a cup of tea for hours, talking all about the gossip of her Bible group or about her garden or anecdotes from when she was a young girl, if you’d let her.

It was nice, Vanessa appreciated having what you might be able to call a normal friend—even one who was old enough to be her grandmother. But… she couldn’t help but wonder, every time she looked at her, which of those trinkets she still held in her drawer might have been her grandson’s once upon a time.

Which of those terrified faces might’ve been his.

  “Kay, I’m leaving now, bye Freddy bye Nessa!” Gregory called, snapping her out of her ruminating, as he dashed out the front door.

She shook her head, forcing herself to clear those thoughts from her head. It wasn’t like she could do anything about it, whether it turned out to be true or not.

  “Have fun today Greg,” she called back, watching from the doorway as he ran down the sidewalk, backpack bouncing off his back as he did. He tossed her back a wave.

The late-October air had a chill to it, nipping at her face and exposed arms. She stepped back inside the warmth of the house with a contented sigh. She had a lot to do while he was gone.

The trio—yes, trio—had plans to go trick-or-treating that evening. Freddy, of course, would need to stay hidden in the bag that Vanessa would be bringing with them. Even though he wouldn’t be able to truly join in on the festivities, he was excited at the prospect of being allowed along for the ride all the same.

Vanessa hadn’t intended to dress up herself, the mere thought of putting on a costume of any kind again made her sick to her stomach. But Gregory had insisted that she needed to wear something, and when they were out thrifting to get what they needed for his costume, something did catch her eye. A beautiful golden-yellow dress made of a glittering chiffon with puffed sleeves and a corseted bodice. It was probably somebody’s prom dress at one point, but to Vanessa it looked like it belonged to a princess. And at Gregory’s insistence, she tried it on.

She almost burst into tears when she finished lacing it up and looked in the mirror. She felt… beautiful.

Innocent.

Like a princess.

The swish of the layers of soft tulle and chiffon brushing against her legs when she twirled was so far removed from the itchy fleece of her fursuit, and the cheerful gold of the shimmering fabric reminded her of light, or sunshine. Nothing like the dark, poisonous purples her life used to be drenched in.

It was only fifteen dollars. She bought it.

She looked at the dress where she’d hung it on the hook on the back of her door, ready to go for that evening. Even just looking at it brought a smile to her face again.

So what if she was twenty-four years old, she was going to be a pretty goddamn princess for Halloween.

Freddy wanted to get in on the costume action too, even if nobody besides them would see it. After some deliberation—because costume options for a disembodied animatronic head were fairly limited—they decided on temporarily removing his top hat (it was actually magnetic) and replacing it with a stalk and leaves Vanessa had made out of dark green felt, turning him into a “Jack-o-Freddy”.

She also took this time while Gregory was at school to make a tiara to finish off her own costume, making it simply out of folded triangles of yellow paper and glitter glue. The end result definitely looked like a children’s arts-and-crafts project, but Vanessa didn’t mind. In fact, she embraced it. She loved the carefree, childlike quality of it.

It felt nice to create things that were wholly good with her hands again.

She was in the middle of curling her hair when her phone rang.

  “Yes, hello?” Vanessa asked absently, holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder while her hands wrapped another lock of hair through the curling iron.

  “This is her,” she replied, lips quirking into a concerned frown at the caller’s inquiries for Gregory’s guardian.

Her face paled as she listened to the caller’s words. She set the curling iron down.

  “…I’ll be right there.” It took her multiple tries to hit the end call button with how badly her fingers were shaking, and she shoved her phone into her pocket before dashing out of the bathroom.

  “Vanessa? What is the matter?” Freddy asked, upon seeing her panic.

  “It’s Greg,” she called out over her shoulder as she flew through the living room. “That was his teacher calling, he’s having a meltdown, I have to go,” she gasped out in a single breath as she frantically grabbed for her keys and shoved her socked feet into some sandals.

She hated leaving Freddy hanging like this; he’d be worried sick about the boy, but it’s not like she could take him with her, and the only thing on her mind was getting to Gregory as quickly as possible.

She drove to the school as fast as she was legally able, replaying the teacher’s words in her mind. According to them, a couple of older kids had been trying to “scare” him until he “suddenly began hyperventilating” and ran out of the classroom, barring himself in the janitor's closet. He wouldn’t open the door for any of the teachers or the school counsellor, and their attempts at trying to calm him down only made his panic worse.

Vanessa was sure she was a sight to behold when she burst through the doors of the middle school, still in her pyjama pants, an old t-shirt smudged with glitter glue, and only half of her hair curled.

  “Where is he?” She nearly demanded to the first adult figure she came across after introducing herself.

The lady, one of the teachers, led her through the school halls. When they rounded the corner and she saw three costumed students lined up against the wall and staring at the floor guiltily while getting lectured by the principal, it became immediately clear to her what had happened.

It was no secret that Fazbear Entertainment had something of a reputation connected to them. Whether real or not, everybody in Hurricane was familiar with the “ghost stories” that the pizzerias had spawned over the years—the child murders and haunted animatronics and all that. The Pizzaplex’s abrupt closure only added fuel to that fire. Vanessa was well aware of the theories that’d cropped up about its closure over the last few weeks, some of the “absurd” stories concocted even coming uncomfortably close to the actual truth. But in any case, they were the exact kind of ghost stories that would attract the fascination of a couple of rowdy middle schoolers.

The three student’s costumes were exactly as crappily made as you’d expect thirteen year olds armed with cardboard and hot glue to be able to throw together and were splattered in overly excessive amounts of fake blood, but the masks were official and Vanessa could clearly tell they were supposed to be horrific renditions of Roxanne, Monty, and the Daycare Attendant.

She could only assume these were the students who had been trying to scare Gregory, and, as horrible as it sounded, it made sense. He was small, childish looking, and clearly a fan of the Fazbear characters judging by his own Freddy costume. The perfect target for their torment.

They, of course, had no way of knowing Gregory’s trauma connected to the characters, but that didn’t stop her from giving the brats a death glare as she passed anyway.

A small group of adults were standing around a door, talking in hushed voices and shooing away any curious students wanting to know what all the commotion was. The adults—assumedly one of the other teachers and the school counsellor—parted to let Vanessa by. Through the door she could hear the faint sounds of stuttered breathing, yanking at her heartstrings.

Lightly, she tapped her knuckles on the closet door. “Greg… hey, hey, it’s just me, Vanessa,” she said as gently as she could, then wrapped her hand around the handle and began to slowly pull it open.

…Only for it to violently slam in front of her face again. But not before she saw the pure, unadulterated terror in the boy’s eyes as they met hers.

  “No, no, NO! ” Gregory’s frantic screams were muffled through the door, but she was close enough that she could still plainly hear what he said. “No! Go away, Vanny! Leave me alo-one! He sobbed, hiccuping on the last word.

Vanessa froze, the world seemed to tilt as if the floor had been pulled out from underneath her.

Vanny.

He’d called her Vanny.

She couldn’t breathe, the room suddenly devoid of oxygen. Her legs buckled beneath her and she sank to the floor, burying her face in her knees. The teacher said something to her—asking if she was okay? (No, she wasn’t.) But Vanessa waved her off. The only thing she could really feel was a rapid pulse throbbing in her ears and despair flooding her chest.

Gregory’s sobs had now transformed into pure hysterics, and she could hear things rattling around and falling inside of the closet as he either stumbled back into a corner or tried to hunt for something to defend himself with.

Her fingers twitched with the urge to do something, anything to possibly help him, but she was at a loss as to what. The panic attack he’d had after breaking that plate a few weeks ago was nothing compared to this full-blown meltdown.

He’d… he’d never acted anything like this before, always hiding behind a sort of childish bravado; a feigned bravery that had even her fooled from time to time. Even when he had been caught in Vanny’s grasp, he’d barely wavered, he’d kept fighting. You could almost believe the events of the Pizzaplex didn’t haunt him one bit.

Until now.

Gregory had looked at her, but Vanessa knew he didn’t truly see her. All he saw was Vanny, and the animatronics hunting him down again. In his panicked mind, he was back in the Pizzaplex, fighting for his life.

And just like that night, Vanessa was powerless to help him.

Because the fact of the matter was, no matter how hard she tried to help him, no matter how much he claimed that he didn’t hold it against her, Vanessa would always be a part of his trauma. Nothing could erase the fact that she had hunted him down too.

And maybe that hurt most of all, the realisation that however much she wanted to fling open that door and pull Gregory into her arms and hug him tightly enough to banish the terrors from his brain, she wasn’t what he needed right now.

But maybe… maybe she knew what he did need.

She lifted her head and pulled out her phone.

It was a couple weeks ago when she caught Greg messing around on her laptop with Freddy’s head plugged into it. Upon asking what the heck they were doing, Gregory sheepishly confessed that he was trying to give Freddy’s internal computers full access to the internet.

Vanessa had thought that that was bound to be a terrible idea, but she let it happen under the stipulation that Gregory was responsible should Freddy stumble across any weird parts of the internet.

But now, she viewed it as nothing short of a blessing, as in addition to it giving Freddy the ability to google whatever his heart—er, processors?—desired and watch silly cat videos (a personal favourite of his) in his head, it also gave him the ability to send and receive texts from Vanessa’s phone.

The text she sent was simple, but in her mind, conveyed everything it needed to.

He needs you.

She sat with her back against the grubby school wall, beside the closet door. She had heard the ding of Gregory’s watch receiving an incoming call, but not anything that Freddy was saying. Whatever it was must have been helping, as the distressing noises from inside the closet had quieted, and could now hear Gregory quietly murmuring what seemed to be nonsensical words, like “shelf”, “broom”, and “lemon cleaner”.

   Five senses, she realised. Freddy was getting him to list off things he could see and hear and smell and stuff in his surroundings, to help ground him. Helping guests who may have panic attacks must’ve been a part of his programming.

But Vanessa suspected it was Freddy’s voice more than anything that was helping Gregory. Freddy was the one who kept him safe that night, he was the one who listened to his woes and gave him the strength to keep going for another hour, who had put the child’s safety above everything else, even disregarding his programming for it. Freddy, in Gregory’s eyes, was the embodiment of safety.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there outside that closet. One of the teachers had sat down next to her and began making small talk. It didn’t escape Vanessa that they were probably trying to help ground her. She humoured them. Maybe it was nice, to take her mind off of the situation for a minute.

Until they were interrupted by the sound of the closet door slowly creaking open.

Two reddened eyes hesitantly peeked out of the crack and silently stared at Vanessa’s face, as if looking for something.

She stayed perfectly still, barely breathing herself, letting him search her face for… whatever he was looking for.

  “G-Green,” he finally whispered with shallow, shaky breaths. “Your eyes are green.”

Vanessa nodded. “Yeah bud,” she whispered back, blinking the moisture out of them. “They’re green.”

  “Not red?” The handle of the door rattled in the grip of his shaking hands

  “Not red,” she confirmed with a gentle shake of her head. “And not purple, either.”

The door opened more, and suddenly Greg was falling into her arms that were already open and waiting for him, burying his face in her shoulder and balling her shirt in his hands. Vanessa gripped him back just as fiercely, wrapping one arm around around his shoulders and burying her other hand in his hair

  “I’m sorry,” he choked out amidst his tears and the snot that was seeping into Vanessa’s shirt. “T-The costumes—they looked like—I thought—a-and then I—”

She gently shushed him, ruffling his hair. “I know buddy, I know. But you’re okay now.”

He shook his head into her shoulder. “And I thought you were—I called you her, ” he sniffled.

  “I know,” she whispered back. “It’s okay, I promise.”

She didn’t care about the cold and grimy school tiles under her knees, didn’t care about the scene they’d caused and the teachers and other students who were probably staring at them. The only thing that mattered to her at that moment was Gregory, and she would sit there in the middle of that damn school hallway holding her kid for however long he needed her to.

Finally, they untangled themselves and stood up.

  “I ruined the makeup you did for me,” was the first thing he said after drying his tears, and was hiding his face in her side to avoid meeting the concern gazes of the teachers.

  “That is the least of my concerns, kiddo, and if you want I can always redo it.” She took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Let’s go home.”

They didn’t end up going trick or treating that evening. Instead, she shut the blinds and turned off the porch light. Vanessa dressed herself up in her princess gown and the three huddled up on the couch wearing their costumes, bingeing the silliest, corniest “horror” movies they could find and indulging themselves in the bowl of candy they had intended to set out for trick-or-treaters themselves.

And Vanessa knew deep down that what had happened today would happen again. There would be days where Gregory would not be able to look at her without spiralling, or perhaps vice versa. But when she looked down at the boy’s head resting against her shoulder as he giggled about some particularly dumb scene in the movie to Freddy, somehow she knew deep down that they would be okay.

They would get through it—the bad days and the good, together.

Chapter Text

If there was one downside to Glitchtrap being out of her head, it was that Vanessa had to navigate job applications herself now.

Turns out, half a game development degree isn’t worth much in the workforce. Everywhere she inquired—that would pay enough to support them, that is—she was told that she was either under qualified or, having almost three years of being ‘head of security under her belt’, overqualified. Which, in her opinion, was even more insulting. Like, come on! They needed workers and she needed the job, what was their problem?!

She could always try for a security gig at another establishment, of course, but she didn’t feel ready for something like that again. Maybe she’d never be ready. Hell, she never even wanted a security job in the first place.

But with a bank account slowly dwindling she was beginning to get desperate. She’d managed to find a few assorted jobs that fit her criteria, so she sent off resumes and prayed that she’d hear back from at least one of them.

As frustrating as that could be though, she liked these mornings where Gregory was at school and she and Freddy would sit in the living room together yet doing their own separate things. It was a comfortable way to pass the time until the little man came home. Like this morning, where Freddy was sitting next to her using his new internet-surfing capabilities to YouTube in his head while she looked through some more job listings and checked her emails for any replies. It made the boring task of adulting a bit more bearable (pun intended).

But when she opened her inbox, she hardly even noticed the email from some grocery store telling her she could come in for an interview next week. No, it was an email sent a little over an hour ago with no subject that caught her full attention.

Everything else seemed to fade away into the background as she stared at the little message icon in shock. Even before reading the sender’s name, she knew who it was from. There was only one person who she remembered as never adding a subject to their emails. One very special person.

And suddenly she couldn’t breathe.

She hadn’t thought about Luis in ages.

No, that was a lie. A bold-faced lie. She thought about Luis dozens of times since being freed, she just didn’t let herself dwell on him, because it hurt too much.

Luis Cabrera.

She had met Luis while beta testing that VR game. He had worked in Fazbear’s IT department. One of the only—if not the only—friends she had made after leaving home. Luis was kind, funny, smart… and it was no secret that he had a pretty damn big crush on her. Vanessa wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about him, if it was purely platonic or if there was perhaps a spark of something more. But she’d never gotten the time to puzzle out her feelings, because then the virus happened and ruined any chance of anything between them.

Being the IT guy, Luis was the one to receive the red flags of her suspicious online activity. Instead of immediately reporting her to management, though, he reached out directly to ask if she was okay.

Luis was the only person who had realised that something was actually wrong, and not that she was simply messed up in the head or something.

Then she got transferred to the Pizzaplex… and Luis followed.

He got an IT job in the Pizzaplex, but with Vanessa working the night shifts, they didn’t cross paths much. Any time their shifts did overlap, he’d make it an effort to seek her out. But she would ignore him; maybe indulge in some small talk at most. Not because she didn’t want to talk to him—the moments she did talk to him were like glimmers of light in the darkness—but because she was terrified of Glitchtrap making him disappear. Or worse, making him like her. If she pretended he didn’t exist, maybe Glitchtrap would, too.

But that wouldn’t be the case. Luis kept trying. To reach out, to figure out what was wrong, to try and ‘help’ her.

And Glitchtrap did not like that very much. He wasn’t shy in discussing how much he wanted to dispose of Luis. Explaining to her in gorey detail exactly how he wanted to make Vanny do it. He used him as a key piece of leverage to keep Vanessa in line.

So the next time Luis sought her out at work, she snapped.

She’d grabbed him by the collar and pinned him against the wall. “Stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong,” she’d snarled into his face. “Leave me alone or I swear to god, I’ll kill you.”

She was the one who said it. Not Glitchtrap, not Vanny, her.

She would never forget the way he looked at her, the hurt and the fear on his face, before she released him and stormed away, locking herself in the nearest security office before the tears could start flowing.

  “I didn’t think you’d have the guts to do it, I’m impressed.” The entity in her head had remarked approvingly to her as she cried her heart out on the floor.

And that was the last thing she’d ever said to him.

It wasn’t long after that she’d received the news that Luis had been fired for “tampering with company property”, apparently. She’d nearly sobbed in relief. Luis was gone, and that meant he was safe. Safe from her.

That was almost two years ago now.

Vanessa had thought that he would’ve heeded her advice and dropped contact.

Any sane man would’ve moved on to another girl, right? Wipe his hands of the psycho who never bothered to respond to his messages and threatened to murderer him, and be grateful that he’d dodged that bullet.

But no. Somehow, unthinkably, sitting in her inbox was a message from him, sent a little over an hour ago.

  “Vanessa? Is something the matter?” Freddy’s voice snapped her back to the present. She had been sitting there, frozen, with her hands hovering over the keyboard.

She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, trying to get some oxygen back into her lungs. “Um, yeah, I’m fine…” she lied, and cleared her throat. How would she even begin to explain all this to Freddy? “I just received an email from an old friend of mine a-and it surprised me, that’s all.”

  “Well that is wonderful, Vanessa! What did they say?”

  “I…” she bit her lip. She couldn’t bring herself to click on the message. She couldn’t fathom what Luis would want to say to her after all this time.

It was like Schrödinger’s cat. If she didn’t open the email, she could live in a world where Luis both hated her guts or still cared about her, aware of her existence or not. But by opening the email, it would irreversibly solidify one or the other as reality.

She didn’t know which outcome scared her more.

  It’s just an email, Vanessa tried to tell herself. They’re just some words on a screen, they mean nothing to you.

Before she could lose her fragile resolve, she jerked her cursor to the message and clicked.

2035-11-07

“no subject”

To: nessie97 From: luis.cabrera

Hey, Ness.

It’s been a while since my last email. I heard about the Pizzaplex—the real reason for its closure, I mean. Fazbear has a remarkable ability to cover things up. But through some old connections I caught wind of the break-in, the missing staff, and the construction crew finding you, injured. God, Ness, I can’t begin to tell you my reaction to hearing that news. The idea of you being hurt and trapped in that garage in Roxy Raceway while our old friends and colleagues are murdered right under your feet… I can’t even begin to imagine. It’s horrible. If there’s one silver lining to all this, it’s that you’re okay. Or even if you’re not okay—I know I wouldn’t be after something like that—I’m glad that you’re at least alive.

Ness, if you’re getting these messages, please send me a sign. Anything. You don’t need to explain anything to me, I just want to know you’re still out there. Or you can tell me to buzz off. Either way, I’ll listen.

-Luis

Vanessa clasped a hand over her mouth as a sob tried to choke its way out of her throat.

  “Vanessa?” Freddy asked in concern from where he was sitting behind her.

She shook her head, unsure if she was answering “no” to being okay or to being not okay. She was unable to do anything other than stare at the words on the screen uncomprehendingly.

Luis didn’t hate her.

He wasn’t scared or repulsed by her.

He’d said that he was glad she was alive.

She read the email for a second time, and a third, positive that she’d misunderstood or that her eyes were playing some kind of cruel trick on her. But no, no matter how many times she read it, the meaning of the message never wavered. She found nothing but concern and compassion in his words.

One line in particular stuck out to her, “if you’re getting these messages”…

That made it sound like… he’d sent more than one.

With shaking fingers she typed his name into the search bar of her inbox. The page loaded in, and she sucked in a breath.

More than a dozen unopened messages all from Luis met her gaze, spanning the course of the last two years. She quickly clicked on the next one—sent nearly five months ago.

2035-06-21

“no subject”

To: nessie97 From: luis.cabrera

Hey, Ness.

It’s funny how the randomest things can remind you of a person. Like today, when I was out for a walk and saw the cutest little Beagle puppy. It looked just like the one on that glittery pink notebook you used to bring to work! I wonder if you still have it? Though I suppose after three years, you’ve probably gotten a new notebook by now.

Life’s been much the same for me. I wish I had some big, interesting story to tell you, but nope. And maybe that’s okay, it’s a comfortable kind of monotony, you know? There’s only one thing I would wish for differently—can you guess what that might be? :-)

Not a day goes by where I don’t think of you, Ness. …It’s kind of pathetic, isn’t it? I’ve long since accepted the fact that you’re probably not going to respond (although I always still hope that you will!). For all I know, you don’t even use this email anymore, and I’ve just been screaming my thoughts into the void for the last two years. I guess these emails have acted a bit like a journal for me, where I can store my thoughts about life and about you—although in retrospect, maybe that sounds a bit creepy, hah… sorry.

But as always, I hope you’re doing OK. I’d always welcome a message from you—even if it’s just a picture of a cute puppy!

-Luis

She kept reading, eyes glued to the screen as she went through the last two years of correspondences. In all of them he’d talk about something nice he’d seen recently, or how his life has been. And in all of them, he’d ask about her. Asking for a sign that she was okay.

How had she missed these? She wondered desperately while skimming through the messages. Did she stop checking her email? She must have, as come to think of it, she didn’t remember doing so as Vanny. She would have had little reason to after becoming head of security. And she’d never bothered to scroll through all the emails she’d missed after getting freed—she couldn’t handle the visual reminder of just how much time had passed. How much she’d missed. Luis’s emails were left buried in the sea of promotional emails and pathetic scams, unnoticed. Until now.

One in particular caught her eye, at the very bottom of the unopened list. According to the date, it would have been sent just after he got fired.

2034-01-14

“no subject”

To: nessie97 From: luis.cabrera

Hey, Ness.

I’m sorry. I failed you. I tried! I tried to help you, but they wouldn’t let me! I was fired—although you probably already know that. I was so close, Ness, I know I was. I just couldn’t find it, the last piece of the puzzle.

I don’t know what to do now. Nobody else seems to notice, but I know something’s going on, I know you’re not yourself. It wasn’t you who said those words the last time we talked, I know it.

I can’t help you anymore, at least not physically. I can only hope that somebody else might come along and pick up where I left off. Until then, stay strong, Ness. And please know that I don’t blame you, I’m still here for you if you ever change your mind.

-Luis

Vanessa just stared at her screen after she had finished reading, his words burned themselves into her head.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you’re not yourself.”

“Stay strong.”

She wasn’t aware that her vision had blurred and she was crying until a couple drops rolled off her cheeks and dripped onto the keyboard.

Was she mourning the loss of an old friendship? Guilt-stricken by all she’d done? Unimaginably relieved that he never blamed her? She didn’t even know herself. But the tears kept coming, flowing freely despite her attempts at stopping them. It was a silent sobbing, the kind with small, quiet gasps and trembling shoulders; easily unseen if one wasn’t looking for it. But luckily for her, Freddy was.

Although not knowing what had made Vanessa so distressed, he did his best to try and comfort her, whispering gentle affirmations as she turned away from the coffee table and buried her face in the couch cushions.

Eventually, her tears had run dry, and she had to pull herself back together.

She reached forwards and grabbed her mug of coffee—which had long since gone cold—and took small sips, both to hydrate her dry throat and to stall at explaining her outburst to Freddy.

He was exceedingly patient with her, though. He always was, he was the rock solid foundation that held this messed up little family together. Although he’d panicked at first, when he’d realised that her outburst was not caused by any imminent danger or arrival of bad news he’d had calmed down and comforted her, and was now giving her the time and the space she needed to open up.

She didn’t—she couldn’t go into the details, it still hurt too much, but she pulled herself together enough to mumble a brief explanation of Luis and what she’d said to him and how he never gave up on her, as she absently swirled her mug with the dregs of room temperature coffee around in her hands. She thought maybe it was kinda pointless—as understanding as Freddy could be, at the end of the day he was still a robot, and what did he know about human relationships? But once again, she found herself being surprised by the bear’s seemingly endless pool of compassion.

  “Oh yes, I remember Luis. He was always such a kind fellow,” Freddy said empathetically after she had finished, which she nodded in agreement to. “You are lucky to have him in your life. What are you going to say to him?”

She snapped her head up at that. “What?”

  “I asked what you were going to say to him,” Freddy repeated patiently. “You are planning on responding, correct? I believe he deserves that.”

A response?

Responding? To Luis? after all this time, after everything?

It was one thing to receive and read the emails. But to send one herself? Make Luis aware of her presence? On one hand, it was the obvious thing to do. Freddy was right, he deserved an explanation of some kind.

And she wanted to! God, she wanted to! She wanted to see Luis again, talk to him, thank him, see his goofy smile and listen to him ramble about comics or old music…

But why did the mere thought of doing so terrify her?

  “I don’t know,” she admitted to Freddy, setting her mug back down on the coffee table. “I know, I need to say something, but…” she trailed off, unsure what she even meant herself, or how to explain her feelings.

But she didn’t need to. “Take your time, Vanessa,” he said kindly, picking up on the woman’s hesitancy. “He has waited two years to hear from you, he can wait another couple hours for you to calm down and collect your thoughts.”

She nodded in acknowledgment. Freddy was right. Again. “Thanks, Fred,” she told him softly, giving him a quick side-hug before she stood up and stretched her arms. “…I think I need some fresh air.”

She opened up the living room windows and inhaled deep lungfuls of the crisp November air. The chill felt nice. Grounding. Cleared some of the fog from her head.

Maybe she could get some chores done while she thought about what to say, she decided. So grabbing a broom, she began sweeping. After that she decided that the bookshelf could do with dusting and a reorganisation, and well if she was dusting the bookshelf she might as well do the rest of the furniture, and— no, she wasn’t stalling, she was just… collecting her thoughts. Right?

…

Yeah, she was stalling. Big time.

  “Coward,” she hissed to herself, slamming the dusting rag down on the counter.

She had been avoiding the laptop on the coffee table while she’d cleaned. It’d been left open on the email window, though the screen had long since gone to sleep. The darkened screen seemed to be staring at her, mocking her for her cowardice.

  “Feeling better now, Vanessa?” Freddy asked as she plunked herself down in front of the sofa with a sigh. He had been sitting there the whole time, watching her with a look of knowing sympathy.

She didn’t respond, but leaned forwards to turn her laptop back on, took a deep breath, and clicked “compose”.

Fifteen minutes later, and she was still staring at a blank screen. She had tried multiple times to type something, but would only get a sentence or two out before frustratedly backspacing.

  “What am I even supposed to say?” She groaned to Freddy, tucking her knees up under her chin on the sofa. “‘Hey, sorry I threatened to kill you and then ghosted you for two years, I was brainwashed by a murderous rabbit virus’?”

  “Well, if you wanted to tell him the truth, you could say that.”

She stared at him. “Seriously? I… no. Freddy, that was a joke. Obviously I can’t say that. Argh!” She groaned, resting her forehead onto the keyboard. “Why. Is. This. So. Hard.” With every word, she lifted her head and slammed it back down on the keys.

A ding sounded from her laptop.

She snapped her head up.

Message sent!

  Wait… what? A bolt of panic shot through her stomach. Frantically, she clicked on her outbox.

2035-11-07

“no subject”

To: luis.cabrera From: nessie97

gttty6h7uyyh67uj7olllljm;’;p[kmjhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

  …Shit.

Vanessa grabbed a pillow off the sofa and promptly shrieked into it.

  “Vanessa, is everything alright? What happened?” Freddy asked anxiously.

  “I just accidentally sent Luis an email of keysmashes!” She screeched into the cushion, mortified.

Freddy sighed lightly, trying to hide the obvious amusement on his face. “Vanessa…”

  “It’s not funny!” She whined pathetically, peeking out over the cushion to look at him. “He probably thinks I’m even crazier now I can’t believe I just did thaaaaaaattt…!” She rocked back and forth, hiding her burning face behind the pillow.

  “Vanessa, it is okay, calm down.” Freddy smiled placatingly. “I understand your embarrassment, but I am sure if you send him another message explaining your mistake he will understand.”

The reasonable part of her knew that she was undoubtedly overreacting and being ridiculous, but that didn’t quell her erratically thumping heart and her bright red face because holy shit how could she be such an idiotic klutz—!

Running a hand down her face, she pulled herself together and reached for her laptop with the intent to frantically compose another message before Luis could read the old one… only for a notification to sound from her inbox.

  Crap.

Luis had replied. He’d already seen the message.

2035-11-07

“no subject”

To: nessie97 From: luis.cabrera

Hey, Ness?

Was that really you? Are you okay??? Was that like a code of some kind? Or just a mistake? If you are in a position where you are able to, please send me another message, so I know it wasn’t a fluke.

I hope you’re okay. Please respond if you can, I’m worried about you.

-Luis

She felt the heat rise to her face again. She had to respond to him now, there was no avoiding it. Well, theoretically she could avoid it, but it wouldn’t help either of them and an explanation of some sort was the least she could do, considering everything he’d done for her.

She composed an email, not even really stopping to think about what she was typing, just needing to get the email out and convey even a fraction of the things running through her head. To let him know just how sorry she is, even if “sorry” was horribly inadequate considering… everything.

2035-11-07

“I may be stupid”

To: luis.cabrera From: nessie97

Hey, Luis.

Um, yeah, so… firstly, sorry about that last message. That was my dumb ass banging my head off the keyboard when trying to think about how to respond to your email, heh…

I’m going to be honest, I don’t know what I can possibly say to you. I can’t really provide you with an explanation, just that the last couple years have been… rough. Really damn rough. But I think you already kind of knew that.

But I want you to know that I’m in a better place now. The thing that had happened is… over. And I want to tell you I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. For everything I did, everything I said. You’re right, I didn’t mean it. But that doesn’t make it okay.

And I want to tell you that I wasn’t ghosting you on purpose, I swear. Because of certain circumstances, I’m only just now reading your messages, and, just… thank you. Thank you for being there when nobody else was. I don’t think you could ever know how much that means to me.

Sorry, I kind of rambled, and I know this email probably doesn’t make much sense either, but… thanks for listening, and for being there.

Sincerely,

-Vanessa

  “It’s sent,” Vanessa exhaled, a relief and an odd detached serenity replacing her anxiety. Whatever happened now would happen, it was out of her hands.

With a sigh, she stood up and slammed her laptop closed. “Well, I’m gonna to go take a shower before I can overthink everything. Okay thanks Freddy bye.”

  “Vanessa, wait,” Freddy called out before she could close the door behind her.

  “Yeah?” She paused in the doorway and turned back to look at him. “What’s up?”

  “I am proud of you, you know,” he told her simply. “You are a good person, and a wonderful friend. I am sure Luis will understand. And even if he does not, we are here for you.”

His words caught her completely off-guard. “Freddy, I…” she trailed off, a lump rising in her throat. The words “good person” and herself didn’t belong in the same sentence, that was ridiculous…

Despite this conviction, she could feel tears well up in her eyes again. “Goddamnit, Fred, you’ve got me crying again,” she chuckled wetly, swiping at her face.

Though she didn’t believe his words herself, she murmured a grateful “thank you,” before disappearing into the bathroom.

And she definitely didn’t bawl like a baby while she was in the privacy of the shower.

When she had stepped out of the bathroom, roughly rubbing her damp hair with a towel, she found another message waiting for her. 

2035-11-07

“Re: I may be stupid”

To: nessie97 From: luis.cabrera

Ness!

I can’t begin to tell you how happy I am to hear from you, and that you’re doing alright. Forgive my sappiness, but I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming, haha.

And Ness, don’t apologise. It’s okay, I promise. You’re right, I don’t know what you’ve been through. But that’s okay, I won’t pry. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. I’ve said it before, but I’m just glad you’re okay.

It’s totally up to you, of course, but if you wanted to catch up, I’m free anytime this weekend. My offer for coffee is still available, you know. :-)

-Luis

A smile slowly blossomed on her face.

This time, she didn’t hesitate when replying.

2035-11-07

“Re: I may be stupid”

To: luis.cabrera From: nessie97

Yeah, I think I’d like that.

…How does Saturday sound?

-Ness

As they sat at the dinner table that evening, Vanessa told Gregory about her email fiasco.

He nearly inhaled his glass of milk upon hearing about her accidental keysmash. “You did not!” He gasped, bursting into a fit of giggles. “Oh my gosh, that’s hilarious!”

  “It wasn’t funny!” She protested, hiding her face in her hands. “I was so embarrassed!”

  “It was a little funny,” Freddy interjected innocently.

She whipped her head towards the bear, gasping in mock offence. “You too?! Unbelievable, I’m being ganged up on!”

Gregory cackled even harder at that, and even Freddy couldn’t contain a few chuckles.

  “Okay… maybe it was a little funny,” she finally conceded, smothering a small grin with her hand.

Teasingly, she pointed her fork towards the still-giggling boy. “Oh, don’t look so smug, brat. Now shut up and eat your broccoli.”

Chapter Text

Time is a funny thing. When you’re dreading something, it comes all too fast, but when you’re excited about something, time seems to drag on endlessly. For Vanessa, it was both. The rest of the week passed both too quickly and not quickly enough.

Plans had been made to meet up with Luis and grab some coffee that evening, and she was feeling… a lot of things. Excitement, anxiety, joy, and dread all swirled together creating a confusing cocktail of emotions in the pit of her stomach, one that had plagued her mind all week. She’d found herself mentally creating a countdown: Three days until I see Luis again. Two days until I see Luis again. One day until I see Luis again.

And now? One hour until I see Luis again. That was what was repeating in her head while she was getting ready to go.

She’d spent a lot of time picking out what to wear. A disproportionate amount of time, really, as it’s not like she was going out on a date or anything (although Gregory had relentlessly teased her otherwise). She was catching up with an old friend, that’s all.

After probably half a dozen outfit changes, she finally settled on a soft pink cardigan over baggy jeans and a white t-shirt, along with a necklace Gregory had made for her out of colourful soda can tabs. The accessory was maybe kinda silly looking, but… she liked having it. It was a little piece of Gregory she could take with her, a little piece of his courage to help her along.

She also took the time to properly brush her hair up into her ponytail, instead of just haphazardly throwing it up and having flyaways like she usually did.

Though upon looking at herself in the mirror, she sighed. Nightmares had continued to plague her, leaving noticeable dark bags under her eyes, and a complexion that might be comparable to a vampire’s. Even her freckles, which used to be abundant and fairly visible, had paled. All in all, she felt… muted. Washed out. Despite her attempt to look nice, she was still nothing but a poor imitation of the bright, bubbly girl she used to be.

Maybe she would be a disappointment to Luis, maybe he was expecting the carefree girl he used to be friends with back at the VR studio. Well, he would be in for an unpleasant surprise if that was the case.

Maybe she could fix it with some makeup, she wondered? At the very least make her look not quite so dead inside… But ugh, she had spent too long picking out an outfit to do a full face of makeup…

   Shut up. She told herself. It occurred to her how melodramatic and ridiculous she was being. After all, if Luis had seen her practically at her lowest and still tried to reach out and help her, then he realistically wouldn’t care about all this insignificant crap like her appearance. And if he didn’t like how she was now, well, that was his problem and she would never have to see him again after this.

So, with the decision to “frick it”, she simply threw on some eyeliner, deemed herself “good enough”, then picked up her purse and finally emerged from her bedroom.

She found Gregory sitting on the couch playing Minecraft, explaining the game to Freddy who was resting in his lap and listening attentively, if perhaps not really understanding. Like a dad who wants to connect with his child’s interests, but doesn’t really “get it” at all.

  “And we need the obsidian to build a portal to go to the—Oh hey, look who’s finally done getting ready!” Gregory teased, looking over his shoulder.

  “Ha-ha.” She shot him an unimpressed look.

  “You look very nice, Vanessa,” Freddy told her, looking over at her with a smile.

  “Thank you, Fred. See, Gregory? You could learn a thing or two from Freddy about being a gentleman.”

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He rolled his eyes. “Have fun on your date!”

  “It’s not a date! ” She replied, exasperated, for what was probably the dozenth time they’d had this exchange.

  “Whatever you say, ‘Nessa.” He grinned, turning his attention back to the game.

Vanessa shook her head. Honestly, that kid could be a menace sometimes (unfortunately reminiscent of herself at his age). But she couldn’t be bothered to bicker with him about this, he could believe whatever he wanted, see if she cared.

  “Alright, listen up, Gregory. I’ll probably only be gone a couple hours. Lock the door and don’t answer it for anyone, I have a key. Leftovers are in the fridge that you can heat up for dinner. Freddy’s in charge, but if you need me for anything at all you can text and I’ll be right home,” she told him from the porch, slipping on her favourite shoes—a battered, well-loved pair of black combat boots.

This was the first time she was leaving Greg home alone for longer than a few minutes, and while Freddy was responsible enough, his ability to help in an emergency was limited with him being just a head. Visions of break-ins or rogue animatronics or police busting down the door flashed through her mind. But it would be fine, they would be fine. She had to get used to leaving Gregory at home from time to time after all, if she was going to get a job.

So she forced herself to swallow down the lump of anxiety in her throat and managed to call out, “See ya.”

A chorus of “bye”s could be heard coming from the living room as she shut the door, stepping out into the cool November evening. She sucked in a breath, it was colder than she’d expected and she’d forgotten to grab a jacket.

The coffee shop Luis had suggested for them was around a twenty minute drive away. Vanessa plugged the address into her phone and turned on the radio so she wouldn’t have to rely on her thoughts to keep her company while she drove.

Despite the cold, it was a pretty evening, and she hummed along softly to the radio while driving through the misty cityscape, basking in the indigo-hued sunset and the city lights reflecting off the rain-slicked roads.

  “My thoughts whirl around my coffee cup like cappuccino…” she softly sang along to the song on the radio. All the anxieties she had felt leading up to the meeting seemed to dim, leaving a certain calmness that came from knowing she had done everything she could to prepare and all that was left was to just do it. Like she had told herself before, she was just meeting up with an old friend, it would be okay. Maybe even better than okay, because despite all her fears, she did want to see Luis again. He was her best friend once upon a time, after all (did it count as a best friend if it was your only friend?). And she had no real obligations either, so if things went really poorly, there was nothing stopping her from getting up and leaving.

Before she knew it, she’d reached her destination. It was the kinda place you could easily overlook if you weren’t looking for it. It was a small storefront downtown, wedged in between a barber’s shop and a used bookstore. The neon sign out front looked to be assembled from recycled signs, each letter being in a different style and size that gave it a fun eclectic vibe.

She slammed her truck door shut and ran across the road, shivering at the icy raindrops pelting her arms and head.

A soft chime announced her arrival as she stepped into the cafe, and she was immediately greeted by a comforting warmth and the smell of fresh coffee and baked goods. The cafe was small and somewhat cramped, yet its cozy atmosphere immediately put her at ease. The floor was a well-worn dark wood and the walls were exposed brick with a large chalkboard menu. All of the tables and chairs were mismatched, as if perhaps they had been collected from various thrift shops or garage sales. Lending to the cozy vibe was the dim lighting, with string lights criss-crossing across the ceiling and LED candles adorning the tables. A fireplace crackled in one corner, and soft lo-fi music played from a speaker somewhere. She could hear the faint clinks of spoons against cups and the chatter of the few other patrons of the shop. And she also heard the sound of her name—or rather, her nickname. Ness.

She whirled her head towards the direction of the voice, and there he was.

He was sitting at a small table near the window—or had been sitting, now he was standing up and staring at her.

It had been two years since she’d seen him last. His dark curly hair was a little shorter, his glasses were a slightly different style, and there was a touch of stubble on his chin that wasn’t there before, but it was undoubtedly Luis.

Her heart leapt into her throat. The rest of the coffee shop seemed to fade into the background as they stared at each other, both frozen in place and not saying a word.

After what felt like an eternity, but couldn’t have been longer than a second or two, Vanessa somehow managed a greeting. “Hi, Luis,” she whispered.

Her voice broke the spell they seemed to be under. Luis nearly tripped over his chair in his haste as they closed the distance between each other, coming to stand inches apart.

  “Ness…” Luis breathed, his look of disbelief giving away to one of joy. “It’s really you.” He reached out a hand as if he wanted to touch her arm, but changed his mind and dropped it again.

  “Yeah,” she nodded, sniffling, “it’s— shoot, I’m sorry.” Tears had suddenly welled up in her eyes and she blinked furiously, trying not to mess up her eyeliner, but they kept coming. She let out a wet chuckle. “I don’t know why I’m crying…”

  “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he said softly, and handed her a napkin.

She accepted it gratefully and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “I’m just… it’s really nice to see you.”

He smiled even wider. Vanessa had forgotten how much she’d missed his dorky smiles. “I’m just glad to see you’re okay,” he replied, then flicked his gaze around the room. Standing there in the middle of the cafe they’d garnered some curious looks from others. Particularly the barista, who was not-so-discreetly watching them from behind the counter, and upon being caught staring flashed Luis a thumbs-up.

Luis scratched the back of his neck and grinned self-consciously. “Shall we go order our drinks?”

Vanessa nodded and let him guide her over to the counter.

  “Hey there, Luis!” The barista greeted, leaning against the counter. “And who’s this lovely lady here with you?”

  “Do you know him?” Vanessa whispered to Luis curiously.

  “Yeah, this is Jesse, a college buddy of mine.” Luis explained. “Jesse, I’d like you to meet Vanessa.”

  “Wait, the Vanessa?” Jesse’s eyes went wide as he rounded on Luis with a sly grin. “As in, the ‘the amazing, beautiful Vanessa’ you’ve told me oh-so much about?”

Luis was frantically making a shut up gesture in front of his throat, to which Jesse simply laughed at.

Vanessa raised her eyebrows. “Oh really?” She looked between the smug barista and a very flustered Luis, a grin of her own tugging at her lips. “And what exactly might he have said about me?”

Luis cleared his throat, interrupting the two of them. “Can we order our drinks now?” He pleaded, a red tinge on his warm tan cheeks.

   “I’ll tell you later,” Jesse mouthed to Vanessa with a wink. “Sure thing, Lu. What can I get for you?”

  “My usual, please,” he said, looking relieved to have changed to the subject. He turned to Vanessa. “How about you?”

  “I’ll get…” she paused, studying the menu. At home her go-to was usually a plain black coffee. But that somehow didn’t feel appropriate, nor did she need the extra caffeine this late into the evening. Her eyes landed upon the holiday menu, which they apparently already had out. “I’ll have the gingerbread latte.” She decided with a smile.

Sugary, festive, and frivolous, exactly what Glitchtrap would’ve hated.

Therefore, exactly what she liked.

  “Sounds good! You two can go ahead and grab a seat and I’ll bring your drinks in a jiff,” Jesse said, turning to begin preparing their order.

Vanessa reached for her wallet to pay, but Luis tapped his card against the reader before she could.

  “Hey,” she sputtered, turning around. “You didn’t have to do that, I can pay for it myself.”

  “I told you I’d take you out for coffee, remember? It’s my treat.” Luis smiled at her.

  “I know, but—“

  “Let the man pay for you, Ness!” Jesse called out over his shoulder teasingly.

Now it was Vanessa’s turn to blush. “…Fine,” she relented with a huff. “But I owe you.”

  “That works for me, if it means I get to see you again.” Luis grinned.

She followed him back over to the table beside the window where he had been sitting before she showed up.

They sat… and the silence stretched between them.

Vanessa fidgeted with her hands in her lap, alternating between looking out the window, down at the table, the local artwork on the wall, anywhere besides Luis’s face.

   Crap, crap, crap. He was obviously waiting for her to start the conversation. What the heck was she supposed to say? How does one talk to a normal person again? A thick, painfully awkward tension hung in the air. Only a couple minutes had passed, but to Vanessa they felt like hours.

She was saved by the arrival of their drinks, and after thanking the barista immediately took a sip of her beverage to further delay the inevitable. It almost scalded her tongue, but her eyes lit up in delight. It was really tasty.

The silence had become unbearable, she grasped for something, anything to break it.

  “I’m sorry!” She burst suddenly. It wasn’t what she had intended to say, nor was she entirely sure what exactly she was apologising for. She’d said it in the email already, but she just had to make Luis understand just how sorry she was. For everything.

But at the exact same moment, Luis said, “I’m really happy to see you.”

They stared at each other for a moment… and promptly burst into laughter.

It wasn’t even that funny, but somehow to them it felt like it was. It seemed to dissolve some of the tension between them too, and once Vanessa had contained the last of her giggles she took a sip of her drink and elaborated, “I didn’t mean it. Any of it. Those horrible things I said… I never wanted to, and I’m so, so sorry.”

  “Ness—” Luis began, a pained expression on his face.

But Vanessa cut him off. “No, I know what you’re going to say, that you ‘don’t blame me for it’ or that you ‘don’t need an explanation’ or whatever, but that’s bullshit, Luis.” She balled her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking. “This isn’t an excuse. I was a horrible person, and we both know it. It won’t change what I did, but don’t you want some kind of an explanation?”

Luis hesitated, but then he nodded, taking a sip out of his drink—a cappuccino, by the looks of it. “Ness, I’ll gladly hear you out, you know that, but you seriously don’t have to tell me anything.”

  “No, you deserve an explanation, it’s… the least I can do.” She stared out the window, watching the drops of rain trail down the glass as she collected her jumbled thoughts. She couldn’t tell him the truth, obviously, especially not here in public. And he probably wouldn’t even believe her anyways, what happened to her was absurd, unbelievable, absolutely insane, no sensible person would believe her.

But she could tell him parts of the truth, wrapped up in a slightly more digestible story. And while she felt like absolute garbage lying to him… a partial truth was better than nothing at all, right?”

  “I had an… abusive boyfriend,” she began, wincing the moment the words left her mouth. It was the exact same crappy excuse she’d used back three years ago when Luis had first found her concerning internet history.

She braced herself for him to call her out on her bull, but he didn’t. Though he narrowed his eyes skeptically, he kept his mouth shut to let her continue.

  “He was manipulative, controlling… and honestly a bit violent.” The lie came easier now, and she began telling bits of her story under the guise of it being an abusive relationship. “He made me drop out of school, isolated me from all of my friends, threatened me if I stepped out of line, he even was the one who influenced me to get that security job at the Pizzaplex. I was miserable, I wanted to leave him, but I was scared, and I didn’t know how. And I couldn’t go to the police, he had a lot of… influence we’ll say. They wouldn’t have believed me. Then… the break-in happened at the Pizzaplex. You already know that story and I… I don’t want to talk about it.” She rubbed her forearms uncomfortably. “But that very same night, he disappeared, and I haven’t seen him since.”

She waited tensely after she finished talking. Would he buy the story? There was an uncomfortably long pause, too long even. Maybe he didn’t believe her after all and was trying to think of how to call her out on it–

  “God, Ness, I’m so sorry,” he said softly. She let out a barely perceptible sigh of relief, he seemed to believe her. “Do you think he was behind the break-in, then?” He drummed his fingers on the table in thought. “It would explain why you were the only one left… alive,” he said that last part quietly.

She replied with a shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe? The intruder was wearing a mask.” She let out a breath, blowing her bangs out of her face. “…Would you think I’m a bad person if I said I never filed a missing persons report?”

  “No.” His response was immediate and genuine. “I can’t say I would blame you.”

Vanessa took another sip of her drink, letting the comforting aroma of coffee and cinnamon and ginger flood her senses. “So… yeah, that’s my story,” she finished with a sigh, staring down into her drink to avoid his concerned and perceptive gaze.

They fell into a silence again, this one being albeit lighter though.

  “Let’s start over,” Luis said suddenly.

  “Huh?” Vanessa looked up, confused.

He tapped his fingers against his cup. As far as she could remember, he was always the type who could never sit still. Whether it be bouncing a leg, bopping his head, drumming his fingers on the nearest surface, he was always in motion in some way. Some might find that irritating, but Vanessa always found his nervous energy sort of endearing.

  “Our friendship has had a pretty rocky start, so why don’t we… start over? We don’t need to completely forget the past, but maybe we can put it behind us and start anew.”

  “I think… I think that sounds nice, actually.” Vanessa smiled, and raised her cup of coffee. “To a fresh start?”

  “To a fresh start,” Luis agreed, clinking his own cup against hers. He set it down then extended a hand with a grin. “Hey there, stranger, my name’s Luis.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Luis.” Vanessa smiled, holding back a laugh and giving his hand a shake. “My name’s Vanessa, but you can call me ‘Ness’.”

The two of them fell into comfortable chatter, talking about anything and everything long after the last drops of their coffees had been sipped. They talked about movies they’d seen or music they liked, about things they wanted to do or places they wanted to see. Luis told about how after being fired from the Pizzaplex he had done a lot of self-reflection and had decided IT wasn’t for him and was now pursuing training to become an EMT as he realised his real passion was in helping people. Vanessa on the other hand didn’t say much about what she was up to these days, but Luis didn’t seem to mind.

And before she knew it, Jesse the barista came over and gently informed them that he’d be closing up in around fifteen minutes. Vanessa whipped out her phone in surprise and sure enough, it was quarter-to-nine; they’d been talking for nearly two hours.

  “Shoot, it’s getting late. I better get back home to Gregory.” Vanessa remarked apologetically, getting up from her chair

  “Gregory?” Luis questioned with a frown.

   Why was he— oh. “Oh, no, it’s not like that.” Vanessa assured, smothering a chuckle of amusement. Luis must’ve thought she was talking about a new boyfriend or something, and… did she sense a touch of jealousy in his expression? “Gregory, he’s— well… I’m actually kinda fostering a kid,” she admitted sheepishly.

She hadn’t mentioned Gregory at all while talking earlier. She wasn’t really sure why she didn’t, it wasn’t like there was really any negative information that could be gleaned from that alone, and despite how huge of a part Gregory played in her life now, it just… never really felt like there was a good moment in their conversation to bring it up?

Her life she had mentally divided into three segments, the before, the virus, and now the after. Luis was a part of her before, while Gregory was her after. So it was one thing to see Luis again, but to inextricably and directly bridge pieces of her old life with her new, it… it scared her for some strange, unexplainable reason. She wanted nothing more than to gush about how cool and wonderful Gregory was to Luis, and yet the other part of her brain begged to keep the different facets of her life contained to their own neat little “boxes”.

But the cat was out of the bag now, and while it was scary to combine her old life with the new… hadn’t practically everything she’d been doing the past couple months been “scary”? Volunteering to take in Gregory, learning how to care for him, befriending—and living with—Freddy goshdarn Fazbear, and now facing Luis again. Those “scary” things had ended up being some of the most wonderful things to ever happen to her.

Luis looked at her, surprise and curiosity replacing the frown on his face. “Really? You never told me that. When did this happen?”

  “A couple months ago, it’s… a long story.” Understatement of the year. She fidgeted with her necklace, wondering where to go after that bombshell of an admission. “Do you want to see him?” She asked, taking out her phone.

She pulled up a photo of Gregory on Halloween in his Freddy costume, pulling a goofy pose with a wide grin on his face.

  “He looks like a cool kid,” Luis remarked, looking over her shoulder at the photo. “I’d like to meet him sometime.”

  “Yeah, he is,” Vanessa agreed softly with a smile. She pocketed her phone again. “So I should be getting home…” she trailed off, glancing out the window. At some point over the past couple hours, the light misty drizzle of rain had turned into a full on downpour.

  “Is something wrong, Ness?”

  “I… didn’t bring a jacket,” she realised, sighing, and slapped a hand to her forehead. She didn’t have a jacket nor an umbrella and she had parked on the other side of the road. Real smart there, Vanessa, you’re gonna get soaked…

Luis tapped his foot against the floor for a moment, thinking. “Here,” he shucked his jacket off again and motioned for Vanessa to come closer. He held one corner of the jacket up above his head. “Grab the other corner, and we’ll make a run for it.”

They dashed out into the icy downpour, shoulders pressed together as they huddled under the brown leather canopy of Luis’s jacket that they held over their heads, splashing through puddles and giggling as they ran across the street in the rainy twilight. They arrived at Vanessa’s truck shivering and breathless with laughter.

  “Thanks, Luis. I guess this is where we say goodbye?” Vanessa laughed, catching her breath and looking into Luis’s exhilarated face and finding it mere inches from her own. Despite the chilly air, her chest felt warm all of a sudden.

Or this was where they should have said goodbye. But Vanessa… didn’t make any motion to get into her car, and Luis didn’t make any motion to leave. They both just stood there.

  “Ness, I…” an uncertain expression crossed his face. He held out an arm hesitantly. An invitation. They locked eyes and suddenly Vanessa found herself smiling as she fell into a hug that was long overdue.

The jacket fell to the pavement, forgotten. They got soaked anyways, but Vanessa barely felt the chill.

  “I’m really glad we got to see each other again,” Luis whispered into her hair.

  “Yeah,” Vanessa whispered back, pressing her face into his knit-clad shoulder. “I am, too.”

They finally released each other. Luis’s curly black hair was dripping and plastered to his forehead and his glasses were flecked with raindrops, but his face was glowing. They looked at each other and burst into laughter again at seeing each other's dishevelled, sopping-wet state.

  “Don’t be a stranger, Ness!” Luis waved, picking his thoroughly soaked jacket up off the ground.

  “I won’t!” Vanessa called back. And she found that she meant it. She hadn’t stopped to think about what would come after this meeting. The idea of seeing Luis again, and perhaps even frequently, was something she hadn’t even let herself consider, it felt too foreign. And yet, it felt so right.

She swiped her dripping bangs out of her face and hopped up into her car. “I’ll see you soon?” She called out the window.

Luis replied with a thumbs up, and waved once more, before disappearing into the rainy night.

Vanessa was soaked, she was freezing, and there was a strange fluttering in her chest.

Yet she found herself beaming the whole way home.

Chapter Text

Vanessa’s hair was something important for her. It was a symbol of rebellion, in a way. When she was fourteen-years old wanting to spite her father, she got one of her friends to give her purple “raccoon tails” at a sleepover one night. Altering her appearance like that was a sort of “safe” way to go against his wishes and expectations for her. A way of showing that she didn’t want to be his “perfect little girl” anymore.

Another time, after a huge fight, she chopped half of it off and gave herself red streaks, yet another time she dyed her whole head lime green. And when she moved out, she celebrated by giving herself rainbow streaks.

Then Glitchtrap happened, and he held himself to a certain standard of appearance. For all his quirks, one thing he was adamant on was a respectable appearance. He forbade her from dying her hair any more, and let it grow out naturally. The farthest he’d let her go in body adornments was some light makeup and the occasional purple manicure. He wanted her to be pristine, put together, respectable, unsuspecting. 

His perfect little girl.

Two months later, and that’s still all she saw when she caught glimpses of herself in the mirror. Even without a purple glint to her eyes, she didn’t see herself, no matter how much she wanted to. All she saw was the physical remnants of his influence on her body. The eye bags, the straight blonde hair that reached her mid-back—longer than she’d ever let it get before, the muscles gained from the physical exertion. And the scars, countless tiny marks and scars scattered across her hands, her arms, her back, her legs. Scars from machinery, from victims who didn’t go down without a fight, from her own hands under Glitchtrap’s control… the list went on. She'd drive herself crazy if she tried to name all of them.

It was Luis who reminded her of her rainbow hair days, during their coffee date. Just an off-hand “remember when” sort of comment, mentioning how much he liked it. But Vanessa couldn’t get it out of her head. So the next day, on her way home from a job interview, she took a quick, impulsive detour to the drug store, and came home with numerous colourful bottles of hair dye.

Perhaps she couldn’t do anything about the scars—both physical and mental—but she could do something about the other parts of her appearance.

Bringing a towel up to her freshly-dampened hair, she roughly rubbed it to get most of the moisture out, then draped it across her shoulders to catch the hair that would fall. She didn’t even give herself the courtesy of looking at her current appearance one last time. Closing her eyes, she simply grabbed the pair of kitchen scissors in one hand, a random strand of hair in the other, and snipped.

A good three inches fell to the floor.

And along with it, a heavy weight off her shoulders. Like a sigh of relief.

Heartened, she kept cutting. The ring of discarded hair on the bathroom floor grew. She kept her hair long enough that she could still tie it back, however she cut it into messy, choppy layers that would’ve made her angsty, scene-kid self proud. Even opting to abandon the scissors in some places and hack into it with a razor blade instead for that feathery look. When she got to the back of her head, she didn’t even use a mirror, and instead cut it by touch alone. Her hair was probably horribly uneven, and looked obviously home-cut.

And she loved it.

Each snip of the scissors and lock of hair that fell to the ground was nearly euphoric. Neither Glitchtrap nor her father would’ve ever let her make such a mess of her hair—not that she was actually was making a “mess” of it, it was still well in the realm of socially acceptable, just a bit on the edgy side. And in her eyes, it was perfect.

Finally finished, she set the scissors down and took a good look at herself for the first time.

   Not bad, she decided, turning her head to the side, then to the other, then running her hands through it to fluff it up a bit. Huh. She’d almost forgotten the little bit of wave her hair had when it wasn’t so weighed down. All that was left to do was pick up the scissors again to clean up a couple missed pieces.

Then she smiled at her reflection, satisfied. It was a contentment in her appearance she hadn’t felt since wearing the golden dress for Halloween.

She felt free. She felt like… Vanessa.

But she wasn’t done just yet.

Grabbing the dustpan from the corner where she’d placed it beforehand, she swept the discarded hair up and into the trash. Then she not-so-gracefully shoved some products and her and Gregory’s toothbrushes to the side to make a space on the counter next to the sink.

Carefully, she poured little blobs of the dye into the seven styrofoam bowls she had laid out. When picking out the colours of hair dye to get, she was very intentional in grabbing indigo and violet to complete the rainbow instead of purple.

Just as she was sectioning off and clipping up strands of her hair in preparation for the dye though, she was startled by a knock on the ajar bathroom door. It was Gregory, who poked his head in. “Hey Vanessa— whoa, did you cut your hair?” He asked, wide-eyed.

  “Geez squirt, you scared me,” she let out a breath. “Where’s Freddy? I thought you guys were watching YouTube together.”

  “We were, but he went to sleep early, ‘cause he needed to do a routine system reboot so I came to see what you were doing because I’m bored,” he explained with a shrug. “Sorry, the door was open so I thought it was okay to come in.”

Vanessa smiled, finding it cute that he referred to Freddy powering off or charging as “sleeping”. Though to be fair, she tended to do so too.

  “No, yeah, that’s okay,” she assured, before resuming to clip up her hair. “I was actually just about to dye it, too.”

  “Whoa…” he peered over at the row of rainbow dye filled bowls on the counter. “Cool.”

Then he stood there, looking between Vanessa and the bowls of dye and fidgeting with his hands. Noticing this out of the corner of her eye, she decided to ask him about it “Something up?”

  “I…” he hesitated, staring down at the tiled floor, before quickly saying “Could—could I dye my hair too?”

Before she could even open up her mouth to respond, he cringed and shook his head. “Sorry, never mind. It was a stupid question, I know, so I’ll leave you alone—”

  “Sure.”

He froze, and stared at her incredulously. “Wait, seriously?”

  “Why not?” She shrugged. “It’ll take awhile, but it’s not a school night so I don’t see the problem.”

Gregory’s surprise swiftly faded in favour of excitement. “Really?” He grinned, eyes shining. “I didn’t think you’d actually say yes! Thanks Vanessa you’re the best!” He lunged forwards to wrap his arms around Vanessa’s torso.

  “No problem kiddo,” she chuckled, warmth blossoming in her chest. It wasn’t every day Greg initiated a hug himself. She brought an arm up to ruffle his hair, and noticed that it was getting kind of long. Come to think of it, his bangs often had been falling down in his eyes recently, and he’d be constantly swiping them outta the way.

  “If we’re gonna do this, we should probably give your hair a little trim first.”

Gregory pulled away. “Oh,” his face fell slightly. He grabbed the scissors off the counter. “Well, I can cut it.”

  “Uh huh, because you did such a good job of it the last time.” Vanessa retorted sarcastically. She didn’t actually mean any harm, they made lighthearted little jabs towards each other all the time. And really, his hair was pretty messy, it looked like he’d hacked into with dull safety scissors and no mirror—which was actually kind of likely, when she thought about it.

  “Seriously, I don’t mind doing it for you. Wanna hand me the scissors?”

He squirmed. “No, it’s just… I don’t like when other people touch my hair,” he admitted quietly, fidgeting with the scissors.

  “Oh,” she said softly, feeling like an asshole suddenly. Because, wasn’t she essentially doing the same thing she was trying to distance herself from? Telling him that he should cut his hair and trying to do it for him? Maybe he liked having his hair messy and long, it wasn’t her place to judge. If it made him happy, it made him happy. She shouldn’t have tried to take over like that.

On the surface, it didn’t seem like that big of a deal, but she knew better than anyone the importance of having autonomy over your appearance. So in an attempt to remedy that, she said, “Well, if you want to do it yourself, you can. Or if you don’t want to cut it at all, that’s fine too. But my offer’s always available if you want help.”

He stayed silent, staring down and gripping the scissors in his hands. He didn’t want to let her do it, but he didn’t seem thrilled to do it himself, either.

  “Tell you what,” she told him gently, resting a hand on his shoulder. “If you let me do it for you, I’ll sit you in front of the mirror so you can watch my every move. I won’t do a single snip you don’t approve of. How does that sound?”

He looked up at her. “Do you promise?”

  “I promise.”

  “You won’t cut it really short or anything?”

  “Jesus, kid,” she frowned, “of course I won’t.”

  “…Okay,” he said finally, taking a deep breath, and gingerly pressed the scissors into Vanessa’s opened palm.

She curled her fingers around the handle. For a split second, holding the scissors this way by the blades, the sensation of cool metal against her palm reminded her of holding a knife—something she’d managed to avoid doing since Vanny.

She quickly shut down that thought and held the scissors in a more comfortable grip. “Alright, take a seat,” she instructed, pulling over a stool and patting the seat. Gregory obliged, though he gripped the edge of the stool with tense shoulders.

Vanessa grabbed another towel and gently draped it across his shoulders. “If you want me to stop at any point, let me know.”

He nodded, eying the scissors in Vanessa’s hand warily.

She started with his bangs, a place that was easy for him to watch, and only snipped off a couple millimetres to start.

Gregory sucked in a breath, hands clenching the edge of the stool.

  “Doing okay, bud?” She asked gently, pausing.

  “…Yeah.” He let the breath out shakily. “I’m okay.”

  “Want me to keep going?”

He nodded.

Slowly but surely, Vanessa made her way around his head, carefully cutting off small locks at a time. With every snip, his shoulders seemed to loosen up a bit. As a distraction, she struck up a conversation with him, like you do at a real hairdresser. She asked him all sorts of silly questions about his life and such, getting him to spill the juicy gossip of the 6th grade.

During a natural lull in the conversation, Gregory piped up unprompted. “One time, when I was seven, a foster dad was convinced I had lice—even though I didn’t—so he forced me to shave my head.” He said this almost casually, as if that was something that was normal or okay to experience.

Vanessa nearly dropped the scissors in surprise. "I— Excuse me?!"

It occurred to her just how much trust it must’ve taken him to let her do his hair, if that was the kind of shit others had done to him. She didn’t blame him for not wanting anyone besides himself to touch it. Sounds like they both had experiences when it came to lack of autonomy over their appearances.

But while Vanessa may have been reclaiming parts of her appearance tonight, Gregory was trusting her with his, when he clearly had some trauma relating to it. That was huge.

  “Well, fuck them,” she whispered under her breath without thinking.

Gregory let out a sound between a gasp and a snort, throwing a hand over his mouth. “You said the F-word! What would Freddy say?”

  “I won’t tell if you won’t.” She grinned mischievously. “And I’ll say it again, fuck them!”

He giggled, seeming highly amused at her brash language. “Then… Can I say something?”

  “Eh, why not. Go for it.”

  “Fuck them.” He said it so quietly and hesitantly it was almost adorable, then flitted his gaze around like he was afraid somebody would burst in and yell at him for it.

  “Oh, my, my!” Vanessa gasped, “tsk”ing sarcastically. “Freddy’s beloved superstar, swearing? Atrocious!”

His amusement turned to panic. “W-Wait— no! You said you wouldn’t tell!”

  “Nah, I won’t.” She assured him. “I’m not a narc. Freddy’s asleep, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Let it all out.”

  “Then, fuck ‘em,” he repeated, with more confidence this time.

  “Atta boy!” She playfully nudged him with her elbow. “Fuck Glitchtrap, fuck my father, fuck ALL the shitty adults in our lives!”

  “Fuck ‘em!” He agreed enthusiastically.

  “Fuck ‘em!”

  “FUCK ‘em!”

Vanessa had to put down the scissors, as she was nearly doubled over in laughter by this point and Gregory was giggling too much to sit still.

…She was a really bad influence, wasn’t she?

But it was admittedly hilarious, and surprisingly cathartic too, to air even a fraction of her resentment. Seemed to be fun for him as well.

  “Well, I think I’m about done,” she told him after she’d finally contained the last of her laughter and wiped the tears that’d formed in her eyes. She ruffled his hair to get any last loose fibres out then stepped out of the way to let him take a look. “What do you think?”

She didn’t cut too much off, just cleaned up his bangs and evened out the rest, as he seemed to have a preference for slightly longer hair that flicked up at the ends. He was quiet for a moment, tilting his head this way and that to examine every angle, and Vanessa handed him a hand-mirror so he could get a look at the back too. “It’s good,” he said finally, handing the mirror back to Vanessa with a smile.

She brushed some of the loose hair off the towel on his shoulders. “Perfect, so what were you thinking for the dye?”

He didn’t hesitate to point to the bowl of electric-blue dye on the counter. “This one. And can it be, like, just a couple streaks on the front?” He added, tracing the shape of two “streaks” on his bangs with his finger.

  “Ah, so kinda like Freddy?” She asked knowingly. It didn’t escape her that the dye he chose was the exact same electric-blue as Freddy’s accents.

Gregory’s cheeks flushed. “…Maybe. I mean, kinda,” he mumbled.

It was endearing, the way Gregory both idolised the bear yet lived with him and, in Vanessa’s humble opinion, had an almost father/son-type bond—though Gregory would certainly never admit that. Their bond was something special. Freddy was his favourite character, his best friend, and his guardian. Was it any surprise that he would want to emulate aspects of his appearance?

Vanessa said none of this, instead only remarking, “Sounds good, and I think Freddy’ll like it too.” Gregory visibly brightened at that. “Unfortunately,” she continued, rummaging around in the cabinet, “you’ve got dark hair, so we’ll need to bleach it before we can get to the fun part.”

  “Kay,” he nodded, swinging his legs as he sat on the stool while Vanessa mixed up some bleach in a new bowl. Luckily, she did have some leftover hair bleach already, so she didn’t have to make a midnight trip to the drug store.

It took nearly an hour to get to the desired lightness, his streaks fading from chocolate brown to muted orange to finally a blondish colour. Vanessa had to frequently admonish the boy to “sit still!” as even in the late hours of the night, his energy seemed to know no bounds.

While they were waiting for the bleach to sit, Vanessa finally got to her own hair, carefully sectioning off and applying the dye to her strands colour by colour to create a rainbow striking through her natural golden-blonde hair, with a couple of extra colourful streaks in her bangs—inspired by Gregory’s idea.

After helping him wash out his hair, they could finally apply the bright blue to his bangs, and only had a little bit more waiting to do before they could finally see the result.

Turns out his energy knew some bounds, as at way past his usual bedtime by that point, his tiredness was beginning to set in. At one point she had to lunge forwards to catch him as he dozed off on the stool and began to pitch sideways.

She also managed to convince him to take a goofy selfie with her of them both in their hair foils and towel capes—which she promptly made her phone’s lock screen (much to Gregory’s chagrin).

Then finally, it was time to rinse out the dye and see the results of the past couple hours of cutting and bleaching and dyeing. Vanessa rinsed her hair out in the sink then helped Gregory with his, and gave it a quick towel dry.

They stepped back, and took a good look in the mirror, exchanging sleepy, but content, grins.

  “It looks coooool!” Gregory said, his voice slurred by sleepiness. “Thank you, ‘Nessa!” A yawn split his sentence.

  “Alright, kiddo,” she chuckled, finishing cleaning up the mess they’d made, “it’s high time somebody went to bed.”

She “walked” (more like dragged) the kid back to his room and tucked him in, laying a towel on his pillow to make sure any residual dye won’t stain his pillowcase. She was pretty sure he was asleep before she could even turn the lights off.

Vanessa retired to her own room as well, exhaustion pulling her under almost as quickly, and she fell asleep with a smile on her face.

She was awoken the next morning (or technically just later that same morning?) by the sound of her phone dinging. Blinking the sleep out of her eyes, she saw that she had received a message from Freddy. He was remarking that it was unusual for them to sleep in this late (according to her phone it was nearly eleven) and asking if she was feeling alright and if he should wake Gregory up or let him rest. Smiling, she quickly sent off a reply, saying that she was awake now and that they had a “surprise” to show him, ending her message with a winking emoticon.

She dragged herself out of bed and into Gregory’s room, seeing the midmorning sun peeking through his curtains and Freddy sitting alert on his bedside table.

  “Good morning, Vanessa,” Freddy cheerfully greeted her as she shuffled into the room, then he did a double-take, letting out an exclamation of surprise. “Why Vanessa, you dyed your hair! It looks wonderful!”

  “Thanks, big guy.” She stepped over and knelt down next to Gregory’s bed. He’d rolled over in his sleep and was facing away from Freddy, so he wouldn’t have been able to see his hair yet. She gently gave his shoulder a shake. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

Gregory stirred, groaning. “Don’t wanna… ‘m tired…”

  “Sorry bud, but it’s nearly eleven, time to get up. Don’t you want to show Freddy what we did last night?”

He blinked, rubbing his eyes. Vanessa could see the exact moment his sleepy brain registered her words. “Oh!” He gasped, eyes widening. He quickly sat upright and threw the blanket over his head, giggling quietly.

  “Good morning, superstar! Vanessa says you have something to show me.” Freddy looked between Vanessa and the Gregory-shaped lump under the blanket curiously.

  “Uh-huh, are you ready?” She could hear the grin in Gregory’s voice. He paused for effect, then pulled the blanket off his head, revealing the blue streaks in his fringe. “Nessa dyed my hair! And see, it matches your face paint!” He beamed.

Freddy stared at the boy, mouth agape and eyes sparkling. He seemed to try to say something, but all that came out of his voice box was a weird stuttery noise that sounded almost like dial-up. His internal fans sped up, becoming audible even at a few feet’s distance. Then abruptly his eyes shut off and he went silent.

  “Freddy?” Gregory panicked, scrambling off the bed. “Freddy, are you okay? What happened? Did I break him, Nessa?” He turned to her, distressed.

  “I think…” Vanessa patted the boy on the shoulder, trying to contain a laugh as they both stared at the animatronic head. “I think you sent Freddy into another reboot, bud.”

Chapter Text

School sucked.

School sucked so much, in Gregory’s not-so-humble opinion.

If not for Freddy and Vanessa, he honestly may have just ran away and became a street rat again just so that he wouldn’t have to deal with it.

It was one thing to be the “new kid”, to be the social outcast or viewed as weird by his peers. That was fine, he was no stranger to that.

But, well… ever since Halloween, when he’d… overreacted to some other kids’ costumes and freaked out, he now had the reputation of a crybaby.

In fact, they even had the perfect nickname for him. A small, brown-haired boy being frightened by older kids wearing Freddy’s masks? That was a story Hurricane had heard before.

The Crying Child. That’s what they called him. They took a decades-old tragedy and used it as a thing of mockery.

He’d hear people not-so-subtly whisper about him while he passed in the halls, like “Hey, isn’t that the kid who had a freak-out during the party?” And then they’d look at him with some mixture of pity or sympathy then go on with their day.

But others took advantage of this newfound weakness in his armour. Some pathetic bullies with nothing better to do decided that he was the perfect target for their torment.

There was the typical bullying stuff, like tripping and taunting and spitballs, but there was more targeted stuff too. Leering and asking him if he was gonna start crying again any time the Pizzaplex was discussed in his vicinity, whispering some of the Glamrocks’ iconic catchphrases in his ear with a “spooky” voice when they passed, and whatever else their walnut-sized brains could come up with.

One time, he opened up his locker to find a Freddy plush sitting there with its eyes crossed out and crying black sharpie tears, and its stomach ripped open spilling its stuffing innards.

It wasn’t the plushie that freaked him out per-se, even if it did remind him of things he’d rather forget. It was the implication that these jerks had the ability to get into his locker, and therefore go through—or even steal—his stuff, that gave him a familiar itch in his fingers to give those assholes a taste of what they deserved.

But however much he wanted to shove his knuckles into their smug faces, it seemed that a teacher was always there hovering around him to scold the bullies (though they never actually got into trouble, of course.) or pull him away and ask oh are you alright, and oh do you need me to call Vanessa, and that… was probably the worst thing in all of this.

He could handle the staring, he could handle the nicknames, he could even handle the bullies. But he could not handle the humiliation of being coddled by the teachers and treated like some fragile little baby.

Secretly, he’d hoped that his dyed hair maybe would’ve helped some, like gave him a “tougher” look. But it did little besides give kids something new to point and whisper about.

  It’s not fair, he scowled down at his lunch as he angrily stabbed his fork into it over and over again. He hated school, he hated the people at school. Why was everybody suchs jerks to him? What was he doing wrong?

Stab, stab, stab.

Socialising was a game everybody else seemed to be in on beside him. It’s stupid. Or maybe he was the stupid one.

Stab, stab, stab.

He wished Cassie was here, she was the only person who’d ever given him a second glance. It wouldn’t be half so bad if she was here, she always knew exactly what to say to make everything feel okay. But he still hadn’t heard from her.

  Maybe she hates you too.

Stab, stab, stab.

And he couldn’t even call Freddy to talk to about all of this! He was unlucky enough to not get a table all to himself today, and had a couple kids sitting only a few chairs down who would surely overhear him if he tried.

His lunch was thoroughly massacred by that point, but he hardly even noticed, too caught up in his own head.

Stab, stab—

  “Woah, hey dude, do you have a Faz-Watch?” A voice snapped him out of his wallowing. He jerked his head up to find a boy leaning over the table, talking to him.

Suddenly, the boy reached out and grabbed his arm out from where it’d been propping up his chin. “Hey, can we—”

The air escaped Gregory's lungs and he could hear nothing besides the blood rushing in his ears and the panic building in his chest and he didn’t think!—

Vanessa let out a small sigh of relief, stepping in the front door. “I’m home!” She called out to the bear who was undoubtedly waiting to hear about her day.

She had finally landed a new job. It was nothing fancy, just working as a cashier at a small book store. But it had nothing to do with video games or robots or security and it’d pay the bills and more-or-less aligned with Gregory’s school schedule so it suited her just fine.

Yeah, her standards were that low.

In fact, this had just so happened to be her first day on the job—training, which was only a half day. 

It was because of this that she was fortunate enough to be back home already when her phone rang, barely even having the time to kick off her shoes.

  “Hello?” She asked, somewhat irritably. If this was her boss telling her that they were understaffed and needed her to come back for the rest of the day after all then so help her—

Her stomach dropped, hearing the too-familiar voice of one of Gregory’s teachers asking for her.

Her mind immediately jumped back to Halloween and ran wild with the possibilities in the moment before she got a response. Was he having another meltdown did he get hurt oh my god was he okay—

But she was certainly not expecting the response the principal would actually give.

  “Um, of course, I’ll… be right there?” Vanessa answered, still reeling, and ended the call.

  “Vanessa! How was work?” Freddy cheerfully inquired when she stepped into the living room.

  “Hey, Fred,” she said, ignoring the bear's previous question. “Listen, I need to leave again for a minute. I just got a call from Gregory’s school.”

Freddy’s face fell. She could tell his systems were running wild with the same anxieties as her when she first got the call. “Is he okay?”

  “Yeah, he’s fine, I think. But he um… he punched a classmate, apparently.”

If the phone call was to be believed, Gregory was the one who instigated the violence, and in broad view of the whole cafeteria too. She couldn’t fathom what would’ve caused him to lash out like this. She’d seen first hand that he had a feisty streak, sure, but…

Maybe some part of her naively thought that if he would've begun to unlearn his apparent aggressive tendencies once he was in a somewhat “stable” home situation; when he wasn’t needing to be on high-alert all the time.

She knew Gregory didn’t like school, yeah, but she just chalked it up to “what kid does?” and figured that if he was having a problem he would’ve talked to them about it—or at least talked to Freddy.

But whatever the case, clearly she was wrong, and Gregory had found himself in trouble again.

So when Vanessa arrived at the school, she steeled herself for whatever shitshow she was about to walk into, and knocked on the door of the principal’s office.

She’d met the principal once before. He seemed to be a good man and a fair administrator, but was large in both stature and presence making him undeniably intimidating. The type of person you’d certainly not want to get on the bad side of as a kid.

Gregory didn’t so much as glance up at her or acknowledge her entrance in any way when she walked in. He was sitting on a chair on one side of the room, head down and hands balled loosely in his lap. Sitting down on the other side of the room was a tall kid pressing a wad of napkins to his face. Next to him was a lady—presumably the boy’s mother, as they had the same curly black hair and deep-brown skin—who alternated between fussing over her son and glaring at Gregory. There was also another boy on his other side, who was leaning against the wall and looking at Vanessa, but looked away when she made eye contact.

The principal introduced them to each other, then Vanessa took a seat next to Gregory.

  “Are you okay, bud?” She whispered gently, resting a hand on his shoulder. But he just shrugged her hand off and hunched even further over.

She let her arm fall back to her side, letting out a gentle sigh. How was she supposed to help him if he wouldn’t even tell her what was wrong?

The meeting was short. The kid—named Ellis—mumbled out his side of the story, voice slurred by his bloody nose. Apparently, he’d been sitting at the same table as Gregory and noticed his Faz-Watch. Having one of his own, he wanted to add Gregory as a “friend” on the servers, only for Gregory to suddenly strike him on the nose. One of Ellis’s friends, who was also sitting at the table, could corroborate this story. Besides, the whole cafeteria had watched this go down too, so it’s not like these boys could be lying about it.

And apparently, after the initial punch, Ellis was too stunned and in pain to attack back but Gregory didn’t attack any more. He just stood there, gripping his wrist with his watch to his chest and staring at Ellis with a look of panic as blood began gushing down the boy’s face. He didn’t move a muscle until one of the teachers came to escort him to the office.

He hasn’t said a word yet, only tersely nodding or shaking his head when questions were directed at him. He nodded when asked if the boys’ version of the story was true. When asked why he did it, his only defence was a mumbled out “I panicked,” which he refused to elaborate on.

Throughout all of this, Vanessa had noticed the other kid—Ellis’s friend—staring at them. It didn’t seem like a particularly resentful or judgemental or hostile stare or anything, it was more like… he was silently studying them. Which was a bit strange, especially coming from an elementary school kid, but Vanessa brushed it off as just some odd habit. Or maybe the kid had simply just spaced out.

The principal leaned forwards, clasping his large hands together and addressing Gregory seriously. “Our standard penalty for unaggravated assault against a classmate is a three day suspension, do you understand?”

Gregory nodded, still not looking up.

He sighed, pushing his glasses up to rub the bridge of his nose. “Listen, Gregory, you’re a fine kid. You’ve had a decent track record so far this year and you are applying yourself in your studies. However, we both know that this kind of behaviour is unacceptable, and I cannot make an exception for you. You will be suspended for three days, and I expect better behaviour from you when you return. If this happens again, the consequences will be more severe. That is all, you may be dismissed.”

Ellis and his mother got up first. The bleeding had stopped, so luckily the kid’s nose didn’t seem to be broken, but his mother was probably taking him home early for the day. The other kid followed suit, likely having a class he was late for.

That left herself and Gregory. She got up and gently patted Gregory’s arm to encourage him to follow her. On her way out, she shook the principal's hand again, saying “I understand, sir. I apologise for Gregory’s behaviour and I will be sure to talk to him about it.”

Gregory said nothing.

In fact, he said nothing as he followed her back through the hallway.

He said nothing while they walked through the parking lot.

He didn’t even say anything once they had both climbed into the car.

  “Alright, spill,” Vanessa sighed, twisting in her seat to look back at him. “Why did you do that?”

  “Does it matter?” She wasn’t expecting the bitter resignation his voice would hold. “You already heard what happened. I was bad. End of story.”

  “Gregory, no,” she insisted, gaze softening. “You’re not a bad kid. Yeah you did something wrong, but I know you and I know you had a reason for it.”

He crossed his arms and looked out the window, seemingly ignoring her.

Undeterred, she kept staring at him, waiting for him to talk.

  “It’s stupid,” he huffed finally.

  “I promise you whatever it is isn’t stupid.”

He kept his eyes trained out the window, silent.

  “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

There was another long pause, before he let out a low sigh. “Fine. Some kids have been picking on me. Bullying, I guess, but it’s gotten worse since Halloween.”

  “Oh, Gregory…” she whispered, distraught. She’d feared it’d be something like this. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

In response to her distress, he hastily continued, “It’s fine! I can handle it. I'm used to it. I didn’t wanna give you and Freddy something else to worry about.”

  “Gregory, we want to be bothered about this kind of stuff. Even if we can’t fix it, we can help you manage it.”

Even after everything, it seems he still felt the need to bottle things up and face everything on his own. Shoulders hurting from twisting in her seat, she leaned back and looked at him through the rear view mirror instead. “Did you talk to the teachers about this?”

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “They hardly even get a slap on the wrist unless there’s proof of physical harm. Besides, the teachers have already been babying me since Halloween. I don’t need the reputation of a snitch too,” he spat.

Unfortunately, she could understand where he was coming from. The arbitrary yet unforgiving social hierarchies of middle school was something she was all too familiar with, including hypocritical teachers. It sucked, but Gregory did have a point. There wasn’t much she could do about the situation at the moment—though she’d certainly have to talk about it with him at some point—so instead she redirected the topic. “Was Ellis one of the kids who was bullying you?”

  “No… at least, I don’t think so.”

She frowned, confused. “Then why did you…?”

  “During lunch, when he asked me about my Faz-Watch, I froze. And then when he lunged over the table and tried to touch it, I-I panicked and I—”

  “You assumed the worst, and wanted to defend yourself,” she finished for him, gazing back at him sympathetically. “I know how much your watch means to you, bud. And you were probably worried that he’d see your messages from Freddy, huh?”

He nodded, hanging his head.

  “That boy shouldn’t have tried to touch your watch without asking, but that still doesn’t mean what you did was right. You could have asked him not to touch it, or gently twisted your arm out of his grasp.”

He didn’t respond, closing himself off by bringing his knees up to his chin.

Vanessa had just decided that if he didn’t want to continue the conversation now that was fine and was about to tell him to put his seatbelt on so they could head home when he abruptly asked, “So what are you going to do?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I did something bad. So you need to punish me, right?”

  “Well…” she trailed off, thinking. He was right, she supposed he did need a punishment of some kind…? But she’d never needed to do anything like this before. Her only frame of reference was how her dad used to punish her—which she certainly did not wish to repeat.

  Uh… maybe I could wait and talk about it with Freddy? She mused. Honestly, he was more his parent than she was.

But Gregory seemed to interpret her hesitation differently. “I get it. You want to wait until we’re back home or whatever to hit me. But if you wanted to get it over with now I promise I won’t make a peep.”

  “What?” She whirled in her seat to face him again, her distress returning in full force. What was he saying?

  “I punched a kid in the nose. It’s only fair that I get punched too as punishment. That’s… that’s how this works?”

She couldn’t think of an adequate response through the heart-wrenching ache in her chest. Instead, she flung open her door and climbed into the back seat next to Gregory, who barely had time to flinch before she cut off his awful convictions by pulling him into her arms.

  “Gregory, no. No. A thousand times no. I promised you I would never do anything to harm you, and I meant it,” she insisted, letting him rest his forehead on her shoulder. If she held him tight enough, maybe she could squeeze those horrible thoughts out of his head

He gently pushed her away, frowning. “But it’s not really ‘hurting’ me if I deserve it.” The words had the hollow ring of something that had been ingrained into him.

  “That’s fucked up,” she said before thinking. It was probably not the most tactful way to say it, but it was true and was even a tame way to put it in her opinion. “Whoever taught you that is wrong and they’re a horrible person.”

  “But—”

  “No ‘but’s,” she gently silenced him, pulling him back into her arms. “You’re not in any trouble, I’m not going to punish you,” she whispered, glassy-eyed, trying to convey to him all the warmth and empathy and care she held. “You’re okay, bud, I promise.”

But Gregory pulled away from her again, and once more averted his eyes. “Ugh, whatever, don’t punish me then, I–I don’t care. Can we just go home now?”

She stared at him for a moment, dropping her hands at this abrupt change in demeanour. It's not like he was ever a super clingy kid, but… to actively push her away was something new.

  “I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?” She asked gently. “Because if I did anything to make you uncomfortable I’d like to know—”

  “Can you just leave me alone?” He muttered harshly, crossing his arms. And after a second hastily tacked on a, “Please?”

Vanessa paused, trying to conceal the hurt that crossed her face. “Okay…” she whispered after a moment, drawing back. “Okay. But you know if something is bothering you you can tell me, right?”

She took his responding silence as her cue to leave, and retreated to the front seat, pulling out of the parking lot once she’d heard the click of his seatbelt.

Vanessa knew she shouldn’t be hurt by his dismissal, he’d had a rough day and was always entitled to his personal space, but… it did. It did hurt.

Something was bothering him;  he was lashing out and retreating back into his shell. It was almost like they were making backwards progress suddenly.

She just… hoped that he was merely having a bad day, and would open up again to her or Freddy soon.

The tension and silence between them in the car as they drove home was almost unbearable. She hadn’t realised until then, how much she valued Gregory’s energy and playful affection, now that it was subdued. It pained her to see him like this again; that timid, closed-off, tense child he was when they’d first met.

Likely, she was overthinking this entirely, and things would go back to normal soon, but…

She just hoped that whatever was bothering him wasn’t her fault.

Chapter Text

The three days of suspension had passed, and Gregory was gone back to school. Vanessa didn’t know how to feel about it all.

Sure, things weren’t as bad after that initial day, where he’d got suspended. Like, they were back to talking to each other and stuff (…a depressing metric, when she thought about it).

Heck, the first words out of Gregory’s mouth after they’d driven home were a quiet plea to not tell Freddy what had happened—a bubble she unfortunately had to burst, seeing as how she’d already told Freddy that he punched a kid. Though his question couldn’t help but make her smile a bit, he sounded like a kid pleading to an older sibling to not tattle on dad. He really did see Freddy as a father figure, huh?

Regardless, she encouraged him to explain it to Freddy himself, he deserved an explanation too. She had also—her and Freddy, that is—sat him down to have a little talk about bullying. Ways he could handle it and when it was appropriate to fight back and that sorta stuff (because she wasn’t actually averse to the idea of giving bullies a much-needed taste of their own medicine—so long as he wasn’t the one to start the fight, teacher’s opinions be damned).

And after a brief discussion with Freddy, they came to the agreement that Gregory needed to give a proper apology to the kid he hit once he went back to school. Which Gregory really didn’t seem thrilled about, but agreed to after only a minor bit of grumbling.

So… yeah, from an outside perspective, you could almost believe things were back to normal between them.

But it was still very, very clear to her that there was a bigger topic at hand that they were dancing around. Vanessa just didn’t know what.

  “Penny for your thoughts, dear?”

The woman’s voice snapped her back to the present. Ah right… she’d been sitting down in the living room with Rosemary—the landlady, who’d shown up for one of her surprise visits in the middle of that morning. She seemed to have zoned out for an undetermined amount of time, lost in thought while the gentle elderly lady had rambled on about her vegetable garden, and aimlessly staring down into the cup of tea she’d brewed for herself like an hour ago but was pretty sure she hadn’t even taken a single sip of… oops.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you.” Vanessa ducked her head guiltily, setting her cup down on the coffee table and tucked her knees up under her chin. “I dunno, I’m just… worried, I guess. About Gregory,” she sighed. “I thought we were making progress but all of a sudden it’s like he’s… lashing out? I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s a great kid! I know he’s not trying to be ‘difficult’ or anything. I’m just worried that it’s… my fault somehow.”

Rosemary nodded empathetically, rolling her hand in a “go on” gesture.

  “It’s like… things were fine, they were getting better, he was getting more comfortable around me. Or, I thought so at least. Now it feels like we’re going in the opposite direction again. You know that I’ve never cared for a kid before this and I just… I don’t know what I’m doing, I feel like I’m fu— messing everything up,” she admitted finally. It was something that’d been nagging at her for a while. Nagging at her ever since she’d first taken Greg in, really, but had returned now with a vengeance.

The lady hummed quietly, looking at Vanessa in a way where she felt like she was being studied. Not in a hostile way, but in a way that simply made her feel… vulnerable.

  “Have I ever told you that I was a kindergarten teacher when I was younger?” Rosemary asked unexpectedly, after a moment of silence.

  “Oh?” Vanessa asked, preparing herself for another one of the lady’s lengthy monologues. Not that she minded, her wonderfully mundane anecdotes usually acted as a nice distraction, a tether to the real world, a chance to talk to a fellow human being about something other than the batshit…well, shit, she’d gone through. “I don’t believe you’ve told me, no.”

  “Oh, yes,” she nodded seriously. “I worked many a year teaching those ragamuffins. I would have plenty of children come through my classroom whose parents would warn me that they’d be a right little troublemaker at home, yet they’d be the sweetest little angels for me!”

  “Is that so?” Vanessa replied absently, only half-paying attention.

  “Indeed! So, I got to thinking one day, why is that? Do children just like making a liar out of their parents? She chuckled. Her laugh was light and jovial, the kind of where you always felt like you were sharing an inside joke. “Well, I set out to do some research, and I think you’d might find the answer interesting. Now of course, this doesn't apply to all homes, but in many cases, the reason children seem to ‘act out’ with their parents is not because they want to give them a hard time, but because they feel safe around them. And I reckon that might be the case for you two, too.”

  “Huh?” Vanessa snapped her head up, having not expected the conversation to tie back to them.

  “I’ve seen the way that boy acts around you.” Rosemary smiled, a smile that always made Vanessa feel weird and fuzzy inside because it was so unfamiliarly kind and warm and maternal. “Why, I remember him just a couple months ago,” she continued. “He was a scrawny, skittish little thing. And just look at him now! In such a short time you’ve raised him into a happy, healthy young boy.”

Vanessa stared at her, open mouthed, trying to find something to respond with, something to convey her influx of emotion and gratitude. But Rosemary wasn’t done yet.

  “I may not know you two’s full situations, but I think that if that boy is acting out suddenly, it's because he feels safe enough to let his guard down around you. That he trusts you enough to let out his negative feelings and not worry about receiving punishment for it. And that, my dear, is a very big step.”

  “Ma’am, I…” Vanessa’s breath hitched, choking over her own words. “That… really means a lot to me. I-I hope you’re right, I only want what’s best for him…”

Rosemary leaned forwards, grasping one of Vanessa’s hands with both of her own. “Nobody said parenting would be easy. But, dearie? Keep doing what you’re doing,” she said earnestly, her warm brown eyes meeting Vanessa’s teary green ones. “I think you are doing just fine. And I’m sure Gregory recognizes that, too.” She gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re doing just fine.”

Gregory yanked his locker open with a sigh. His suspension was over, and if the whispering was bad before, it was downright horrendous now. Instead of the reputation of a crybaby, he now had the reputation of a delinquent. Fun.

He wasn’t sure if that was any better.

The stares and the whispers and the giggles seemed to follow him wherever he went, creating an incessant cacophony that flooded his head until he couldn’t think of anything else.

But he breathed. In, and out. It was one of the things Vanessa had taught him.

Her and Freddy had sat him down and had a conversation about how he could handle bullies. Most of Freddy’s advice was well-meaning (though irrelevant) dialogue that he was probably programmed to give Pizzaplex visitors. He was a good listener, though, and was excellent at providing comfort if not advice. Vanessa’s advice was more applicable as she had, unlike Freddy, actually been to school before and was probably speaking from her own experiences. She told him things like not giving bullies the satisfaction of a reaction and to be confident—even if he had to fake it—to make himself less of a target. She even told him that it was okay to fight back, as long as he wasn’t the one to instigate, no matter what the teachers might think.

And she also taught him to breathe. Which sounded stupid in his opinion, but she insisted that taking a moment to properly breathe would help him keep a level head and assess a situation more rationally, so he wouldn’t do something he’d regret again.

So he did. In, and out, as he hid his face in his locker.

He focused on the drawing of him and Freddy and Vanessa he had taped up on the inside of the door. In, and out.

He couldn’t let himself do anything dumb like that again, he couldn’t disappoint Freddy or Vanessa. He’d dealt with bullies before, he could do it again. In, and out.

So now somewhat calmed, he tried reassessing his surroundings. Taking his head out of his locker, he glanced around the hallway. There were whispers, sure, but realistically most, if not all of them weren’t about him at all. And there were a couple people looking at him, but they’d quickly try to pretend that they weren’t. And stares couldn’t hurt him. All in all, maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought. Most people had their own things that they were focused on, not him. Maybe Vanessa was right about this whole “breathing” thing.

Then he accidentally made eye contact with a boy on the other side of the hall. Dark skin, curly hair, tallest kid in his grade. Ellis.

Gregory cringed, quickly hiding his face in his locker again. Ahhhh, crap. He still needed to make his apology. Was now the best time to do it? Should he just get it over with? What was he even supposed to say?

  In, and out. The worst that’ll happen is that he still hates him, but at least he’d have tried and did what Vanessa told him to, right? So he slammed his locker shut, turned, and started walking through the hall.

The crowd parted for him; he didn’t even realise that he had a glare on his face and was balling his fists. They were probably anticipating another fight.

Gregory felt like he was walking into a fight.

Then he was only a couple steps behind Ellis, who was talking to that other kid—his friend who was also in the principal’s office—and didn’t notice him standing there. His friend did, though, who raised an eyebrow and nudged Ellis. He turned, looking at Gregory first in surprise and then narrowing his eyes.

Gregory froze, opening his mouth to say something but came up blank. He noticed the boy’s coppery skin was mottled by dark purplish bruising around his nose and eyes. If there was some small comfort, it was that it didn't have a cast or splint or anything so he must’ve not broken it.

  “Do you need something?” He demanded with a hint of apprehension in his tone.

Gregory jumped. Shit, dammit, how long had he been staring like a weirdo, get a grip Gregory say something, anything!

  “I-I…” he stuttered weakly, then cleared his throat, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “I-I’m sorry I punched you,” he finally managed, not looking Ellis in the face. “You grabbed my watch and I panicked, but I know what I did was wrong so um… yeah. I’m really sorry.” Gregory cringed again as soon as he’d finished. Oh god he sounded so idiotic.

  “Oh.” Ellis blinked. He seemed relieved that Gregory hadn’t come over with the intent to attack him again. Then his face shifted to looking uncomfortable. “It’s Gregory, right? Well, I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have touched your watch without asking. I hardly ever meet people who do so I guess I got a bit excited.”

  “I…it fine.” ‘It fine’?! Gregory internally slapped himself across the face. Are you serious right now Greg oh my god, what are you, two? You did not just say that—

The three of them stood there awkwardly, Gregory avoiding the other’s gaze as he felt his face heat up in mortification. He’d forgotten that Ellis’s friend was still there listening too.

   Um… quick, say something to break the silence! “Did you, uh, still want to be friends on our Faz-Watches?” Gregory snapped his mouth shut the moment the words left his mouth. Oh my god why did I say that obviously he wouldn’t want to anymore shit shit dammit abort mission abort abort—

He wished Freddy still had his body so he could crawl inside his stomach hatch and never leave. Or that a lightning bolt would come and smite him down right now.

But just as he came to the decision to dash into the bathroom and lock himself inside the nearest stall, Ellis replied.

  “Sure.”

Gregory’s panicked train of thoughts came to a screeching halt. “What?”

Ellis shrugged. “Sure. But like, only if you’re cool with it.”

  “Y-yeah, I mean… that’d be cool,” Gregory stammered, nodding.

Ellis let Gregory input his friend code himself this time. A moment later, a ding sounded, indicating that Ellis had accepted his request.

Gregory stared down at the little screen on his watch, still not entirely comprehending the whole interaction. He had a friend. Well, a friend on the servers, but still. A friend!

He shifted awkwardly. The hallway had emptied considerably during their exchange, indicating that they’d probably be late for class if they didn’t leave soon. “Um, I guess I’ll see you around?”

  “Yeah, dude,” Ellis nodded with a smile. “See ya later?”

Not knowing how to end the conversation, Gregory did the first thing he could think of. He held out his hand for a shake.

Ellis looked down at him with a brief moment of confusion. But before Gregory could dash away in embarrassment, he simply laughed and returned the shake, before throwing him a wave and pulling his friend away to head to their class, leaving Gregory standing there in the hallway wondering what just happened?

Well… that went better than he’d thought it would? Miraculously, Gregory found himself with a spring in his step as he headed off to his own class.

  “For your next assignment, I want you to write an action-type story, and I want everybody to pair off into groups of three…” Gregory’s English teacher Mrs. Soto explained.

He groaned under his breath. He liked creative writing, but group projects were the bane of his existence. He was always one of the kids who were never picked so had to be grouped up by the teacher instead.

Already kids were shuffling around the room, looking for their buddies to partner up with.

He sighed, leaning back in his chair, waiting to see who the other “rejects” would be.

Then his watch beeped.

He looked down at it in surprise. Freddy knew not to message him during class hours, and Vanessa wouldn’t message him unless it was an emergency. That left…

EllisInBoots: hey

Gregory jerked his head up, looking around the room. Ellis was staring back at him from his desk a couple rows behind, a cheeky grin on his face that Gregory couldn’t quite understand. He tapped something else into his Monty-themed watch. Another beep.

EllisInBoots: wanna be me n tonys writing partner

Surprised, he quickly typed back his own reply.

GGY_46: really? r u sure?

EllisInBoots: yeah

wanna meet us at the lunch table lol

At lunch, Gregory approached their table in trepidation. But he didn’t need to worry, as the moment Ellis saw him, he enthusiastically waved over, like he was a regular in the friend group.

  “Hey, dude!” He grinned when Gregory had sat down. “Isn’t this assignment neat? Oh wait, have you met Tony?” He gestured to the kid sitting across from him.

Gregory shrugged, he’d seen Tony around. He was somewhere between Ellis and himself in height, with neat dark-brown hair and always seemed to be thinking about something. It was the same kid who had been hanging around Ellis earlier.

  “Hi,” he ventured to be polite.

Tony nodded. “Nice to meet you. So Ellis recruited you for the story?” He tapped a pen against the table thoughtfully.

Gregory squirmed. “I guess you could put it that way.”

  “Do you like writing?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “What kind of writing?”

  “Dude, cut it out with the interrogation.” Ellis rolled his eyes, then turned to Gregory. “Sorry about him, he likes investigating people. It’s kinda his thing.”

  “Hey, somebody’s gotta ask the questions,” Tony shot back. He didn’t seem offended though. Maybe they had this conversation often.

  “It’s fine.” Gregory shrugged. “I like making stories, I guess. I mostly do comic stuff though.” Maybe I shouldn’t have said that, he thought to himself. I mean, comics are kind of childish, right?

  “Comics?” Tony asked interestedly. “Are you an artist, then?”

Gregory brightened, Tony didn’t seem to judge him. “I dunno if I’d call myself an artist. But yeah, I do draw.”

  “Oh man!” Ellis grinned. “Imagine the extra credit we’d get if we added art to our story! Tony’s writing skills, my awesome imagination, and your drawings? We’d be unstoppable!”

  “Ellis, chill.” Tony tapped his friend on the nose with his pen, eliciting an indignant yelp. “You didn’t even ask him if he’d want to draw. Besides, we don’t even know what the story’s gonna be yet.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Ellis deflated a little. “Sorry.”

  “No, no,” Gregory insisted, finding himself smiling. Ellis’s enthusiasm was contagious. “I’ll do some drawings for the story if you guys want!”

  “Really?” said Tony. “It would be pretty cool, having an accompanying drawing every couple pages…” he mused, before shaking his head. “But we still don’t have an idea for the story itself.”

Silence fell over the table. The boys each quietly eating their lunches while thinking.

  “I’ve got it!” Ellis burst suddenly through a mouthful of sandwich. He swallowed his food quickly. “What if we centred it around the Pizzaplex? Like, maybe about why it closed so suddenly? It would make for such a good thriller!”

Then he yelped again. “Dude, what was that for?” Evidently, Tony had kicked him under the table, and was not-so-subtlely gesturing towards Gregory with a jerk of his chin.

Ellis looked at Gregory, eyes widening in realisation. “Oh!” He exclaimed. “You’re the Crying Chi— Ow!”

Tony cleared his throat loudly.

Ellis winced. “Uh, I mean, we can pick a different topic if that makes you uncomfortable?”

Gregory couldn’t help it, poorly stifling a snort, causing them both to turn and look at him in confusion. He guessed they weren’t expecting him to be so… blasé about the situation. Because he wasn’t actually afraid of the Pizzaplex, not really, it was just…

It was complicated.

  “I think it sounds like a great idea,” he replied.

Tony frowned. “Are you sure? We don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything.”

  “Nah,” Gregory grinned. He leaned in, pressing his palms on the table and glancing around conspiratorially. “In fact… I think I have a cool idea for it.” He dropped his voice to a dramatic whisper. “Imagine this: a kid gets locked inside overnight and all the animatronics view him as an intruder, and he has to survive until the doors reopen at 6:00am…”

People around the cafeteria were staring at him again. Not because he was crying or starting a fight, but because he was talking and laughing along with the very kid that he’d punched just a few days ago.

And you know what? He found that he didn’t mind the staring this time.

  “You did what. ” Vanessa stared at the boy who was sitting at the counter, looking all-too-pleased with himself as he regaled her about his day. “That’s— that’s like the one rule! ‘Don’t tell people about what happened at the Pizzaplex!’ Oh my god, what were you thinking?!”

  “Don’t you see?” Gregory grinned. “It’s genius! It’s so absurd that nobody’s gonna believe it was real! Besides, it’s not exactly the same, we’re gonna have Springtrap as the main villain instead of Vanny, and it’s Monty helping the kid instead ‘cause Ellis insisted.” He shrugged.

Vanessa rested her elbows on the counter and rubbed her temples, the kid’s casual shenanigans rendering her speechless for a moment. “…I swear, you’re going to give me premature gray hairs,” she sighed.

  “That’s not a thing,” he frowned. “You’re only, like, twenty-five.”

  “I’m only twenty-four, thank you very much. And it is too a thing, your antics would find a way to age me.”

  “Okay, grandma,” he snickered.

  “Brat.” She shook her head, and lunged over the counter to ruffle his hair. “…I’m not actually mad at you, you know,” she made sure to reassure him, whispering gently.

  “Yeah, I know,” he mumbled, shoving her hand off with a sheepish smile.

  “We good now?”

  “Mhm, we’re good,” he replied, and after a moment mischievously added, “grandma.”

She snorted, rolling her eyes. “Can’t ever have a sappy moment with you, huh? Little gremlin.”

  “Hag,” he shot back.

  “Punk.”

  “Boomer.”

  “Wonderful child of mine.”

  “Dum— wait, wha?! Ness!” He yelped, face turning pink. “What did you just say— get back here!” He shrieked, chasing after Vanessa who had already gotten a head-start running out of the kitchen, giggling as the boy chased her around the living room and eventually tackled her to the floor, pelting her with not-actually-serious punches.

   How did I get so lucky? Vanessa thought to herself (and not for the first time, either) as she play-wrestled with the kid on the living room rug, and if they had looked up would’ve noticed the small smile Freddy had on his face as he watched the two from the sofa.

Chapter Text

I think something is wrong with Gregory.

That’s the message Vanessa received from Freddy one morning.

Sure, it was a little later than when he normally got up to get ready for school, but she figured he was just having a sleepy morning.

But that? Well if that message didn’t make Vanessa drop whatever she was doing at that moment and rush down the hall.

“Wrong” can mean a lot of things. Was he sick? Upset at something? Had the virus somehow transferred to him? That last thought flashed through her head irrationally and she shut it down just as quickly.

So that’s to say, she had no idea what to expect when she burst into the kid’s room.

Nothing seemed… immediately wrong. Freddy was sitting on the bedside table, staring at the Gregory-shaped lump under the blankets with a worried expression on his face. Vanessa let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding.

  “Hey, bud.” She stepped over, kneeling down and gently resting her hand on approximately where his shoulder would be under the blanket. “You awake? Freddy says something’s the matter, you don’t usually sleep in like this.”

He shifted, letting out a long, drawn-out groan, and rolled over to face her, only his messy hair and tired eyes peeking out over the top of the covers.

  “Don’t…wanna…” he mumbled, throwing the blanket back over his head.

  “You ‘don’t wanna’ what, bud?” She asked. Go to school? He had pulled the sickness card before. But…she thought everything was okay at school now! He’d made friends and told her that the bullying wasn’t nearly as bad anymore. Was she wrong? Had he been hiding things from her again?

Gently, she pulled the blanket back down so she could see him. “Tell me what’s…” her voice died in her throat as she went to brush his fringe out of his eyes, only to find his forehead to be abnormally warm under her touch.

  “Oh,” she realised softly. “You’re sick.” Actually sick this time. Guilt flared in her chest for thinking for a moment that he’d been faking it.

  “I grew concerned when Gregory did not get out of bed this morning. My scanners detected an elevated body temperature and congested nasal passageways,” Freddy piped up from the bedside table.

   Gee, Freddy, couldn’t you have led with that so I didn’t have a small heart attack? Vanessa grumbled to herself.

Outwardly, though, she smiled reassuringly and said, “Sounds like you’ve caught a cold,” and patted his head before standing up. “I’ll call the school and let them know you’re not coming in today. Need anything before I do?”

He shook his head slightly.

  “Alright, well, if you need anything at all, let me or Freddy know, okay?”

  “Kay…” he croaked, snuggling back deeper under the covers.

  “Do not worry Vanessa, I will keep an eye on him.” Freddy assured her.

She nodded to him gratefully. “I know you will.”

Vanessa thanked the universe that she didn’t have a shift today, so could provide all her attention towards Gregory. The call to the school was made, then she sat down at her laptop.

what to do when your kid has a cold

  “Fluids…rest…medication…” she mumbled whilst scrolling Google. The typical stuff, really. But it’d been a while since she’d had to deal with a sickness and maybe it was different for kids so could you really blame her double checking?

Glitchtrap must’ve really messed with her immune system as, come to think of it, she hadn’t had a cold herself since…before it.

That, or simply her limited contact with non-robotic beings the past three years. What a depressing thought.

Humming to herself, she gathered together a few items: thermometer, water, tissues, and…

  “Crap,” she muttered to herself, shutting the bathroom cabinet. No kids medicine.

It made sense, why would she have had children’s medication lying around? Still, it was an unfortunate turn of events.

She’d make do, but would run out to the store later if possible. But with that, she carried the items that she was able to aquire back into the kiddo’s room.

  “How’s he doing?” She asked Freddy.

  “Alright, I believe.”

  “Sorry bud,” she said, placing her things on his bedside table and kneeling down next to him, “but I need you to sit up for a minute so I can take your temperature, okay?”

He let out a groaning noise, whether of reluctant agreement or discomfort she wasn’t sure, but he let her put her arm under his back to help prop him up and stick the thermometer under his tongue.

While she waited for the beep, she took stock of his appearance. His face was flushed, radiating heat. His eyes, still half-closed, seemed dulled, and the back of his pyjama shirt against her arm felt damp and slightly sticky from sweat.

Beep!

  “102.4°” she read out. “Yep, you’ve got a fever all right.”

  “No…shit…” he mumbled, flopping his head back onto the pillow.

  “Gregory!” Freddy admonished, before making a noise that sounded like clearing his throat. “Er— I understand you are unwell, however it is still not appropriate for a young by such as yourself to use such strong language—”

  “Oh, come on Fred, let the kid say shit,” Vanessa interrupted, grinning at the animatronic’s indignation.

  “Vanessa!” Freddy gasped at her, scandalised. “You should know better then to encourage such—”

They were interrupted by Gregory’s quiet snickering, which then turned into a coughing fit, effectively ending their bickering as they both quickly turned their attention to the child.

  “Ugh…” he croaked once he’d finished coughing, throwing an arm over his eyes. “I hate being sick…”

  “I know.” Vanessa gently brushed his fringe off his warm forehead. “What do you feel?”

He sighed. “My throat hurts, my head hurts, I’m cold and hot, and I just feel…icky, all over.”

  “Icky, huh?” She nodded solemnly. “Hm…sounds serious.”

  “I hate you,” he grumbled, making a weak attempt at smacking her arm.

  “Okay, okay.” She smiled, raising her hands in surrender. “But is there anything I can get for you? Think you're up for a bit of breakfast?”

  “Um…” he frowned, wrapping an arm over his stomach as he hesitantly replied, “I dunno…”

  “Not hungry?”

He nodded.

  “That’s okay. How about I make you a piece of toast for you to try. And if you can’t eat it, that’s okay too.”

He agreed, and she was able to get half a piece of toast and a glass of water into him.

  “Can I take a nap now?” He pleaded, despite it barely being an hour since he’d first woken up, and shoved the glass back at Vanessa.

  “Sure thing, bud.” She tucked the blanks back up under his chin. “Let me or Freddy know if you need anything.”

Vanessa thought she was handling things pretty darn well, considering her inexperience.

Gregory slept soundly for a couple hours, before waking up and feeling well enough to prop himself up with a mound of pillows and play video games on the handheld console for a while.

And Freddy, bless his metaphorical heart, seemed intent on scouring the internet for every bit of information relating to head colds and illness in children that he could find, becoming increasingly paranoid on account of how the internet tends to catastrophize things.

After reassuring him that “no Freddy, a little cough does not mean that he has pneumonia,” she warmed up some soup for lunch, managing to feed Gregory a small bowl.

So, yeah. Things were fine, Gregory got to have a day off from school, and she got to take advantage of this chill day to get some boring adult stuff done that she’d been putting off, which she mentally patted herself on the back for. Look at her, being almost a well-adjusted, functioning adult!

…An illusion of competencey that shattered the moment she heard Freddy shouting for her.

  “What’s wrong—”

Gregory was leaning over the side of the bed, gasping and sputtering, a puddle of sick laying on the floor in front of him. She was just in time to catch him start to heave again, his stomach evidently protesting the bit of toast and soup she’d fed him earlier.

She ran over, comfortingly rubbing his back as he finished puking. “Oh, buddy…you’re okay, you’re okay.”

Sniffling and shaking, though no longer throwing up, he blinked down at the floor, seeming almost confused. Then he hesitantly turned his head to look at Vanessa. “I’m sorry, I made a mess,” he whimpered, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. A trail of spittle dripped from his lower lip.

  “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” she assured him quickly, grabbing a wad of tissues and gently wiping the gunk from his face, ignoring the acrid smell of puke invading her nose. “I can clean it up.”

Which she did, but first, she helped him take slow, small sips of water to wash away the nasty aftertaste of bile in his mouth.

He silently watched her as she cleaned up, knees pulled up to his chin and tugging a blanket tightly around himself, his face only barely visible through the gap.

Finished cleaning, Vanessa returned with an empty trash can and set it by his bed, in case he needed to throw up again. As she was getting up, Gregory tugged on her sleeve, pulling her back down next to him.

  “Um…” he bit his lip and looked down, hiding his face with a flush that didn’t seem to just be from his fever. “I can’t believe I puked in front of Freddy,” he whispered, whining, bringing his hands up to hide his face completely. “…Could you say sorry for me?”

Vanessa looked back at the bear. The bear who, although out of earshot of Gregory’s admission, unsurprisingly had nothing but sympathy and care on his face.

  “I really don’t think he minds, bud.” She turned back to the boy, shaking her head softly. “You’re forgetting that he worked in the Pizzaplex, he probably saw this kind of stuff every day.”

  “But—”

  “Did you feel better after it?”

  “…A little,” he admitted, sniffling.

  “Exactly, so there’s nothing to worry about. And I’ve got a bucket for you now in case it happens again.” She patted his head and stood back up, exhaling. “I gotta go and do something real quick. Sit tight, alright?”

Yeah, so there was no way she was leaving home Gregory alone now. But she still needed to go to the store, she didn’t have any sort of adequate medication or vitamins or anything she needed to effectively care for him, nor was she even really sure what to pick up in the first place…

But she had a potential solution for both those problems. A solution which she really didn’t want to have to use, because she hated having to rely on others, but…

For Gregory, she would swallow her pride.

During their coffee hangout a week or two ago, she and Luis had exchanged phone numbers so they didn’t have to rely on emails for communication anymore. They had talked sporadically since then, but still Vanessa hated asking this of him, even though she knew deep down he wouldn’t hesitate to help her out however he could. That was just the kind of person he was.

She could only cross her fingers that he wasn’t working at the moment.

Vanessa: Hey, Luis, are you busy atm?

A reply came almost instantaneously.

Luis: Not at all! Just woke up from a nap actually. Had a shift last night. What’s up?

Vanessa: Gregory’s sick. I need to pick up some stuff from the store but I can’t leave him alone. Would you mind running out to the store and grabbing a few things for me? I’ll pay you back ofc!

Luis: Absolutely, I don’t mind! I needed to run a few errands myself anyway. Send me your list :-)

So she typed up and sent off a list with profuse gratitudes. And a little over an hour later, a knock on the door signified his arrival.

She had told him to just leave the stuff outside the door, and to not come inside. Her excuse was that she didn’t want to get him sick too, but in reality she was more so concerned about him overhearing Freddy or something.

Quickly, she went over to the window and knocked on it, to get his attention before he could leave again. 

Halfway down the driveway, he turned towards the noise, grinning when he caught notice of her in the window, and raised a hand in greeting. But then he froze, eyes seeming to light up in surprise.

Vanessa sucked in a breath, quickly looking behind her to see if she could find what had elicited that reaction, but finding nothing that would be abnormal.

When she looked back out the window, she found him smiling and pointing to his hair, then to her, then giving a thumbs up. She narrowed her eyes, confused, but then the realisation slapped her in the face.

  Ohhhhh! Her hair! Duh, Luis hadn’t seen her dyed hair yet.

She nodded at him, smiling. Then, she breathed on the glass, fogging up the surface, and used her finger to spell “IOU” in big letters in the condensation (backwards, so that he could read it from the other side of the window).

He flashed her another two thumbs up before turning and striding back down the rest of the driveway to his car.

As soon as his car was gone from view, she went to the door to bring in the stuff. Being an EMT-in-training and all, she trusted his judgement and let him pick out whatever medication he thought would be best for the kid. Also, per her requests, had picked up some electrolyte drinks, vitamin C gummies, and saline drops.

He had also left a couple things she hadn’t asked for, namely a colourful “get well soon” balloon and a styrofoam take-out container. Scribbled on the box in blue pen was “For nurse Ness :-)” Curious, she opened the container… And immediately started laughing, recognizing its contents.

She was immediately brought back to a day, around the time she had first started working for the VR studio. It was one of those days where everything felt like it was going wrong. She’d slept poorly the night before, was late because she got stuck in traffic, and had near-debilitating menstrual cramps. The straw that broke the camel’s back was realising that she had forgotten to bring lunch. It was embarrassing to recall, but at that moment she had simply burst into tears there in the employee kitchen.

Her and Luis weren’t really friends at that point, more just acquaintances, yet he had immediately come over to see what was wrong. And he didn’t laugh at her or say she was overreacting after she’d blubbered out an explanation, only listened to her with understanding and compassion. He even then went and bought her some food from the little hole-in-the-wall Chinese place next door.

That crappy, grease-soaked number 7 combo Chinese meal was like pure ambrosia from the gods to Vanessa in that moment.

And that was over three years ago now. Somehow, Luis had remembered, and that exact same meal was now sitting in a box on her lap.

With one final breath of laughter, she closed the box back up and laid it on the table. I guess I don’t have to worry about dinner tonight.

Upon putting away the rest of the items though, she noticed something, and pulled out her phone to send another text.

Vanessa: Hey. You forgot to leave me the receipt so I could pay you back.

A few minutes later, she got her response.

Luis: I know

   What…? She narrowed her eyes as realisation hit her. …That idiot did it on purpose, didn’t he.

Vanessa: Jerk

He had the audacity to simply reply with a sunglasses-wearing emoji.

…It was almost infuriating how generous he could be sometimes.

But she shook her head, bringing herself back to the real issue at hand. “Hey, little man,” she called, heading back into Gregory’s room. “Luis just dropped off some stuff, he even brought you a balloon.”

  “Oh, cool.” He took the balloon from her, and began to yank on the string to pull the balloon down and grab the string again right before it could hit the ceiling in some kind of repetitive game.

  “I also,” she added, holding up a small bottle, “got you some medicine you can take.”

He froze, the balloon slipping through his fingers and bumping against the ceiling. “No.”

  “What?”

  “No medicine,” he repeated, firmly, but his voice cracked.

She smiled understandingly. “I know, medicine tastes disgusting, but it’ll help you feel—”

  “No medicine!” He repeated, louder this time, and shook his head.

Vanessa exchanged a glance with Freddy. “But, superstar—” the bear began, making his own attempt to reason with Gregory, but was cut off by a sound from the kid, somewhere between a sob and a whimper.

  “No, no!” He croaked out desperately, covering his mouth with his hands. A couple tears squeezed out of the corners of his eyes. He shook his head vehemently. “No medicine… please,” he begged in a whisper, muffled by his hands over his mouth.

Vanessa paused, the little bottle of medicine clutched in her hand. This…wasn’t the reaction of a kid who simply didn’t want to take medicine. This was outright panic, triggered by some fear unknown to her. It was as if he was convinced that medicine was something that would hurt him. And to say that concerned her would be an understatement.

  “Okay,” Vanessa whispered, setting the bottle on the bedside table. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

  “But, Vanessa…” Freddy questioned hesitantly, “surely the medicine would be good for him?”

  “If he doesn’t want it, he doesn’t want it.”

Gregory visibly relaxed, lowering his hands from his face. “Thank you,” he sniffed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…to be a brat. I just…can’t.”

  “Don’t be sorry, it’s alright,” she assured him. “But you know I’d never try to give you anything that would hurt you, right?”

Gregory nodded miserably. “I know, but…”

  “If you really don’t want to, I’m not going to force you.”

He nodded gratefully, and rested his head back on his pillow.

  “What can I get you, though?” She continued softly. “You need something, after puking. Will you try some Gatorade and a vitamin gummy?”

He nodded, the idea of a vitamin seeming to not trigger the same fear for him, so she went and picked up the bottle.

  “Here we go! And look, see, they’re…” she went to check what flavour they were, only to choke in surprise, getting a good look at the label for the first time. What were the odds? “…Fazbear themed.”

  “Seriously?” Gregory snorted, making him cough a bit. “Did you tell him to buy those?”

  “No, I had no idea they even made these.”

  “Neither did I,” Freddy piped up. “It is astonishing, the variety of products they seem to have put our likenesses on.”

  “Seems like it.” Vanessa shrugged, shaking two gummies out of the bottle into Gregory’s hand; a blue lightning-bolt shaped one and an orange star one. “In any case, bon appetit.”

After taking those (apparently they were orange-flavoured and not half-bad according to him), she gave him a few sips of Gatorade to try, and when he managed to keep that down alright she also gave him a few crackers to munch on.

Then she headed back out to the kitchen to finally eat her own supper.

The food Luis dropped off was good, don’t get her wrong, but she found herself wishing Gregory was out there to enjoy it with her. The dinner table was surprisingly lonely without him and Freddy.

Well, it was just a head cold, Vanessa reminded herself, he’d be better soon.

She was roused in the middle of the night by Freddy shouting for her again, finding Gregory puking up what little food she’d managed to get into him earlier.

The topic of medicine was brought up again, but no matter how miserable he felt he wouldn’t budge. She even debated hiding the medicine in juice or a popsicle or something, like how people might put a pill in peanut butter for a dog, but immediately felt disgusted with herself for even considering it. He was a person, not an animal, and he deserved to have autonomy about this kind of thing.

It broke her heart seeing him so miserable, but it was just a little run-of-the-mill head cold that he’d be over in no time, right?

But when the next day passed with no improvement, and the next, and the next…

It was beginning to become a cause for worry.

And it wasn’t just that he wasn’t getting better, he seemed to be getting worse entirely.

No matter what, he just couldn’t seem to shake this cold, which Vanessa had begun to suspect wasn’t a cold at all, rather a nasty case of the flu.

It was horrible, he could hardly keep any food down; she had to practically force-feed some fluids into him. What little colour and healthy roundness he had gained since beginning to live with her was already beginning to fade.

His cough too was much worse. Sometimes it would be like he was hacking up his lungs. Other times his chest was so still she would put her hand in front of his nose just to make sure he was still breathing for god’s sake.

Freddy had begun to go into his nightly charge cycles without “sleeping”, so that he could keep an eye on Gregory, not wanting to leave him unattended even for a second.

At the end of the fourth day, Freddy had pulled Vanessa aside. “I believe you should take Gregory to the hospital.”

  “I know,” she sighed, rubbing her forehead. “But…he refuses to take medicine, and that’s probably all a doctor could prescribe to help him. I don’t want to distress him more than he already is.”

That…wasn’t the whole reason. It was true that going to the doctors might distress Gregory, but they were at the point where that was a risk Vanessa would be willing to take because he needed it. But…

Some part of Vanessa felt like she would be admitting defeat if she took him to the hospital. It was stupid, and she knew it. These things just happen, sometimes people get sick and it’s nobody’s fault. Yet she felt as though she should be good enough to help him get through this at home, that it was a failing on her part if she couldn’t.

But there was another reason too. Hospitals were death and hurt and despair and the overbearing scent of disinfectant and…and Vanessa didn’t think she was ready to face those kinds of things again.

They were interrupted by Gregory bolting upright in his bed, another fit of wet, hacking coughs raking his body.

Vanessa immediately rushed over, patting his back comfortingly and whispering gentle reassurances. When he’d finally stopped coughing, she helped raise a cup of water to his lips as his own hands were too shaky to do so without spilling it.

She put the cup back on the bedside table, finding Freddy giving her a pointed look as she did.

  “I know, I know,” she pleaded before he could even open his mouth. “I just…” She put her face in his hands. “In the morning,” she finally whispered. “If he’s not any better by the morning, I’ll take him.”

  “Thank you, Vanessa,” Freddy whispered back. “I understand, this is…hard on both of us. But I do believe he is at the point where medical assistance would be wise.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know, you’re right.” It occurred to her how difficult that admission must’ve truly been for the bear. Freddy would obviously not be able to go with them to the hospital. He was willing to set aside his fears and discomfort for his sake, making Vanessa just feel even more horrible about the whole situation.

They were silent for a minute, listening to the faint sounds of Gregory’s breathing, who seemed to have already fallen back asleep.

  “I’ll take the night shift,” Vanessa whispered to Freddy. “You need to sleep, too.”

While it was true that Freddy didn’t technically need to sleep, the past few nights he had been charging without going into sleep mode in order to watch over Gregory. It was kind of like when you use your phone while it’s charging, it takes much longer for it to actually juice up. Furthermore, she could tell the prolonged period of being powered on was taking its toll on him, his ability to process information beginning to work slower than normal. He needed a proper rest cycle with a reboot, like a human that needed a proper, uninterrupted night’s sleep.

Vanessa was positively exhausted from the previous few nights, but she knew that she wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight anyways. She didn’t have the mercy of being able to physically turn off her brain for a while like Freddy did.

  “If you insist, Vanessa,” he conceded. “But please, do not hesitate to wake me up if anything happens.”

That night was the worst yet.

Sleep was unthinkable. Vanessa didn’t dare close her eyes, and Gregory could hardly get fifteen minutes of uninterrupted slumber before he was violently jerked back awake by his body’s attempts at fighting whatever bug it had.

Sometimes his sinuses would get so congested that he struggled to breathe, and would panic, Vanessa needing to be there with the saline drops or to rub his back until he could breathe at least somewhat normally again.

He seemed to be delirious, too, occasionally mumbling incoherent dialogue that she couldn’t even begin to comprehend. 

At one point, after one of his fits, he had grabbed onto her arm, wrapping both of his around it and causing her to lurch forwards awkwardly.

  “Don’t go…” he pleaded pitifully.

  “Ah— geez, kid…” she stared down at him in surprise. It wasn’t like him at all to be so clingy. Part of her wanted to make some joke about him being like a cuddly little koala bear, but changed her mind at seeing his face scrunched up in genuine distress. “I'm not, I’m not going anywhere,” she assured, lowering herself down to kneel next to his bed in a more comfortable position. “I promise.”

Even so, he refused to let go of her arm, keeping it clutched to his chest like it was a stuffed animal.

It’d been long enough now that her arm had long since fallen asleep, and Gregory seemed to have fallen back to (an albeit fitful) sleep too, but she didn’t dare move her arm. She stayed perfectly still, watching over him.

She needed to help him. She didn’t know how to help him. It broke her heart to see him this way. She racked her brain for even the smallest idea of something she could do to make him feel better, or at least provide momentary comfort.

A memory resurfaced, one from when she was very little, when she wasn’t feeling well and her mother was kneeling by her bedside just like Vanessa was now. Her mother had knelt there, singing her to sleep. It was a song that she’d sang to her every night. It’d made her feel safe and loved.

Vanessa’s heart remembered the words though, even if her mind hadn’t until now, and she found the lyrics flowing out of her like it was only yesterday she had last heard it.

  “Come stop your crying, it’ll be alright. Just take my hand, hold it tight…”

She found herself smiling at that, it was exactly what he was already doing.

  “I will protect you from all around you... I will be here, don’t you cry…”

A tear of her own slipped down her face. Hypocrite, she thought.

  “For one so small, you seem so strong…”

  He is, she thought. He was strong. He was strong enough to save her, and he was strong enough to fight off this stupid sickness.

  “My arms will hold you, keep you safe and warm. This bond between us can’t be broken…”

It took everything in her to keep her voice from shaking as more tears dripped off her face.

  “I will be here, don’t you cry…”

   I will, she vowed. You don’t have to be alone anymore.

  “‘Cause you’ll be in my heart. Yes, you’ll be in my heart.”

The tears kept coming. Maybe it was from nostalgia, maybe it was from pain, seeing Gregory so miserable and being powerless to help him again.

  “From this day on, now and forever more…”

Why, why did this always have to happen? Why did the ones around her always have to suffer? Why couldn’t it be her?

  “You’ll be in my heart, no matter what they say…”

Why did the pain always fall onto the ones she lo—

  “Y-You’ll be here in my heart, always…” she barely managed to choke out the last verse.

Because it finally hit her, the realisation striking like a bolt of lightning to her heart. The pain she felt, seeing him in this state, wasn't just out of concern or a sense of responsibility. It was love.

Pure, unconditional love.

Love for this child, who, despite everything, was willing to give her a second chance. Who looked at her, at her sins, and still gave her the gift of his trust.

This child who didn’t just give her her life back, but gave a reason to want to live it again.

She didn’t just see a random homeless kid that she took in or the boy that saved her when she looked at him anymore—maybe she hadn’t for a while now, but hadn’t realised it until that moment.

She saw family.

She saw a…son?

No, that didn’t quite feel right.

A little brother, then?

Maybe…but that didn’t exactly convey it either.

There was no label that fit perfectly, just that he was her kid, plain and simple. Her kid, who was now suffering with an illness that seemed to refuse to leave him alone. An illness that maybe could have been getting better by now if she had taken him to the hospital when he first started getting worse.

And now she was paying the price for it.

He was a person hurting because of her own goddamn selfishness. Again.

The rational side of her knew that it was just the flu, he was young and had a good immune system and would get better.

But… that didn’t stop the small voice in head from wondering what if he didn’t?

What if this sickness proved even worse than they’d thought? 

All this child had ever wanted was a family, someone to love him. And now he did. Because, god, Vanessa loved him—she was an idiot for not realising it sooner—and it went without saying that Freddy clearly did too.

So what if…what if he didn’t wake up, never getting to know.

  No, no. She rejected that thought with every bit of strength in her. She knew it was irrational, that she was overreacting. But the lonely dark of the late hours of the night had ways of amplifying anxieties.

  “You’re a fighter, Greg,” she whispered to the sleeping child, knowing that he probably couldn’t hear her. “You survived the Pizzaplex, you’re not going to let a damn flu be the thing to take you out.”

Maybe she wasn’t even trying to talk to him. Maybe she was talking to herself, maybe she was begging to God. She honestly wasn’t even really sure of what she was saying, the words tumbling out, exhaustion finally catching up to her.

  “You’re gonna…you’re gonna be okay…” she mumbled, resting her forehead on her arm she’d laid on his mattress, her other arm still caught in Gregory’s clutches, and her eyelids fluttering shut.

She had…she had one more thing she needed to say though, right?

Oh, yeah…

   I love you…

Vanessa woke to tight shoulders and numb arms. It took her a moment to actually wake up, bolting up straight when she remembered where she was and why she was there in the first place. Gregory.

He was still, still enough that Vanessa, in a moment of irrational panic, put her hand up to his nose to check for breathing. But she found it to be normal.

Quite normal, actually.

In the rays of dawn peeking through the crack in his blinds, she also noticed a sheen of sweat on his forehead. That meant…

Gasping quietly, she put her hand against it.

It wasn’t nearly as hot as it’d been.

  “His fever’s broken,” Vanessa whispered in disbelief, breaking the silence. She checked again, to make sure she wasn’t imagining things, but it was decidedly cooler.

The tension melted from her shoulders, and she found herself smiling as she gently pressed Freddy’s nose to rouse him from his sleep.

  “Hey, Fred. Fred,” she said lightly so as to not panic him, listening to his inner workings turn on.

  “Vanessa?” He blinked at her, then his eyes widened. “Is Gregory okay—”

She put a finger in front of his mouth, shushing him. “His fever broke.”

Freddy took a second to compute her words, but when he did, Vanessa could swear she could see his face relax, even if it didn’t have the muscles required to do so.

  “He’s okay?” He asked for confirmation.

  “Yeah,” Vanessa smiled, pulling the bear into a hug, needing someone to lean on, an outlet for all the tension and worry that’d built up in her over the past few days and hadn’t been able to let herself release. “He’s going to be okay.”

Chapter Text

As promised, Vanessa had taken Gregory to the hospital that morning, even though he seemed to be getting better. But she was done taking chances. They were far from the only family in the waiting room with sniffly kids too. Cold and flu season seemed to strike hard this year.

To absolutely nobody’s surprise, Gregory did, in fact, have the flu. A pretty bad case of it too. But overall it was nothing to be worried about anymore, they were told, and the doctor had prescribed some antiviral medication for him.

Which…became an issue.

  “I don’t want it,” Gregory had said when they were back home and it was time for him to take his first dose.

  “Gregory, bud, my beloved little brat,” Vanessa sighed gently, “listen to me, the doctor gave this to you because it will help you get better.”

  “I’m getting better just fine on my own—” he was cut off by a fit of coughs, further proving Vanessa’s point. She gave him a pointed stare while he avoided her eyes by looking down at his lap.

  “If you don’t take this, it might get worse again.”

  “I don’t care…” his voice wavered.

Vanessa set the bottle back down on the coffee table, then pulled him into a hug. Time for a new approach, this was getting concerning. “Hey, talk to me,” she said gently. “Medicine seems to really scare you, do you wanna talk about it?”

It was a minute before he answered. “Pills make people act weird.”

  “…What do you mean by that?”

  “When I was— when I was on the streets, sometimes people would take pills and they would act funny, and then if they didn’t get them anymore, they’d get really angry or violent and fight people to try to get more. I never had any of those weird pills, but once a dude was convinced I had some, a-and he beat me up to try and find them.” He wrapped his arms around his knees. “I don’t want to be weird like they were. Please don’t make me take them.”

Vanessa couldn’t say anything for a minute, only able to scream internally like a bunch of alarms were blaring inside her head and each one of them going “WHAT THE FUCK!!!”

Every time she’d thought that she had a pretty decent grasp on the kid’s history, he would go and casually drop another shitty, messed up, traumatic situation that he’d apparently gone through. No wonder the kid was afraid of taking medication!

If there was one small comfort in all of this was that at least he had escaped that situation with a fear of drugs, rather than the alternative…

  “Holy crap, Gregory,” she finally managed to utter. “That— that’s—” she dragged a hand down her face, struggling to find the words to convey her absolute appallment without Freddy reprimanding her for language or Gregory thinking her anger is directed at himself. “—beyond messed up.” Was what she finally decided on. “But there’s a difference between those types of pills and the kind that a doctor might give you. These won’t make you ‘weird’, I promise.”

He didn’t respond.

She rested a hand on his shoulder, recognising that this was a very sensitive topic that was way outside of her ability to handle but dammit she would try to help him with this however she could anyway. “How about this, then. Would it help if we googled this medicine together, that way you know exactly what it does for your body and any side effects it might have?”

She was expecting at least a bit more resistance, surprised when he looked up at her and finally murmured a quiet, “Okay.”

So with about fifteen minutes of research (and some gentle reassurances from Freddy), Gregory finally agreed to try the medication. And once he’d choked it down, she rewarded him with a popsicle as a treat for his bravery, presenting it to him in an over-dramatic fashion like she was knighting him that made him roll his eyes (but he didn’t do a very good job of hiding a grin either).

Now a couple days had passed, the medicine seemed to be doing the trick. Apart from a bit of tiredness and a lingering cough, he was miles better than he had been and should be good to go back to school in a day or two.

At the moment though, Gregory was taking a nap, and Vanessa was spending the afternoon in the living room with Freddy, who naturally had been feeling a bit antsy after spending a good chunk of a week in Gregory’s room watching over him. They were watching something on the TV together, Vanessa wasn’t really sure what, she wasn’t really paying attention. She was still exhausted from the past few days, and the afternoon sun pouring through the window was warm and the sofa was quite comfortable and maybe she could rest her eyes for a minute…

  “Vanessa?”

She forced her eyes open with a groan. Dammit, can’t a girl nap in peace? “Hm…? What’s up?” She yawned.

  “I…I wish to talk with you for a moment.” Freddy said.

She pulled up straight, attention sufficiently caught, and learned forwards to mute the TV. “Sure…? What’s on your mind?”

He opened and closed his mouth a couple times, seeming to struggle to collect his thoughts. “I do not wish to complain, Vanessa, I am incredibly grateful for all you have provided for me. And yet… I cannot help but be dissatisfied with myself in my current state.”

Vanessa frowned in confusion. “Uh… care to elaborate on that?”

  “I have tried to be content with my situation, yet I cannot help but wish for more. I feel…useless like this, Vanessa.”

  “Oh,” she realised softly. “You’re talking about your body.”

He hummed in affirmation. “When Gregory was injured, I could not be there to bandage his wounds. When he is hurting, I cannot be there to lift him into my arms. When he is sad, I cannot be there to dry his tears. And then, when he was sick, I was little more than a glorified alarm.” He almost spat that last sentence, an uncharacteristic resentment in his voice. He sighed before he continued. “Gregory is my world, Vanessa. He has taught me that I can be more than what I was created to be. He has given me a fulfilment, a purpose, that the Pizzaplex never had. I just wish that I could do more for him.”

  “Damn, Freddy…” Vanessa said quietly. “I’m sorry, I didn't know this was bothering you so much.”

  “Do not be sorry, Vanessa, this is not your fault. We are all doing what we can with our situation.” Except…it was her fault, she—Vanny—was the one to sic the STAFF on him. It was her fault and she didn’t even notice how much it was bothering him.

They fell into silence. Vanessa absently stared at the show on the muted TV, lost in thought. What were they even watching again? Some dumb home renovation show?

…

Some dumb home renovation that somehow actually gave her an idea. “What if we could get you a new body?”

Freddy stammered, wide-eyed. “I— I mean, I would like that very much, of course. But how? I do not wish to offend, Vanessa, but I do not believe you have the technical knowledge nor the required funds to build me a new body.”

Vanessa was being half-hypothetical when she said that, but the more she thought about it, the more feasible it actually seemed. “Well...there’s dozens of spare endos in the Pizzaplex’s basement, one wouldn’t be missed,” she mused.

He took a moment to process what she meant, and when he did, he gasped indignantly like she was a puppy he’d just found chewing on the furniture. “Vanessa!” He then “cleared his throat” sheepishly. “I… I appreciate your offer, do not get me wrong, but you are not seriously considering theft?”

  “Hate to break it to you, big guy, but we already technically stole you, ” she reminded him.

  “I…suppose that is true.”

She drummed her fingers on the armrest thoughtfully. “It’s up to you, of course, but if you want, I could take you back to the Pizzaplex to get a new body.”

  “Back to the Pizzaplex?” He murmured, a faraway look in his eyes.

Vanessa stayed quiet, giving him the time to think about it. It was a pretty big decision after all, a lot of logistics to figure out, risks to factor, and so on, so she could understand his reservations.

  “That is another thing I wish to ask you, Vanessa,” he began hesitantly. “My friends… what happened to them?”

A chill ran through her veins. She froze. “What?” She wavered, hoping that she had misheard, but knowing very well she hadn’t.

  “My friends, what did y— Vanny do to them? They were not…themselves. I…it is something I have not been able to stop wondering about. Is that wrong of me, Vanessa, to be concerned about my old friends after what they tried to do, and had done, to Gregory?” He said, things that had clearly been eating him up inside now came tumbling out in one confusing jumble. “Am I wrong for wondering if my decision to leave the Pizzaplex with Gregory was perhaps made in haste? That is not to say…I do not wish to go back, not permanently, that is. This is my home now. Yet every day I cannot help but feel as though I have abandoned my friends, that I should have tried harder to help them with whatever they were going through. This conflict I feel…am I broken for feeling this way? I should be content, I have a home and a family and a purpose and…” his robotic voice crackled with emotion, every bit as real and visceral as a human’s. “Yet I worry about them. Every day.”

  “Freddy… stop,” Vanessa said quietly, trying to keep her distress out of her voice. “They were your friends, you're not broken for worrying about them! I— it’s—” she sighed, staring down at her lap. “You want to know what happened to them.” It wasn’t a question, it was a resigned statement, one that she had naïvely hoped wouldn’t come up, but like all things, she could only ignore for so long. Freddy deserved to know. Not just what happened to his friends, but…himself.

  “Please, Vanessa, tell me.”

There wasn’t really an easy way to go about it, so she decided to just start from the beginning and…whatever happened from there happened. “Do you remember, back a couple years ago, when you six got your upgrades?” Six, because Bonnie and the Daycare attendant had gotten upgrades too.

  “Of course I do, that was right before Bonnie…vanished.”

Vanessa winced at the name of the missing bandmate, wishing that Freddy could’ve been content to stay in his blissful ignorance, wishing that she wouldn’t have to utter these next words. But he deserved to know, and, once again, hiding it from him for so long was nothing short of selfish on her part. She said it quickly, bluntly, like ripping a bandaid off, steeling herself for the inevitable fallout. “Those upgrades were vessels to give you guys the virus.”

  “Pardon?” Freddy asked, though she could tell that he knew exactly what that implied, but was trying to convince himself it wasn’t.

  “The virus, from the same entity living in my head. He forced me to insert a similar bug into you guys, using the upgrades as a means to get it in undetected.”

  “What did it do?”

  “It…allowed me to override your guys’ pre-existing protocols that kept guests safe, to…to hunt them. And also easily erase the experience from your memories after.”

Freddy’s face fell. “I had been suspecting—fearing, more like—that you would say something like that. Does that mean—”

She interrupted whatever he was about to say, figuring that if the truth was coming out, he deserved all of it.

  “The virus didn’t mix in seamlessly though. It had a glitch where it seemed to take aspects of your personalities and twist them into their worst versions. Chica’s love of food became gluttony, Roxy’s confidence became narcissism. Monty’s competitive spirit became rage.”

That was only half the crew though. “What about—” Freddy began, but got cut off by Vanessa again, who held up a hand to stop him.

  “It got especially weird for the daycare attendant. It seemed to have given Moon the entirety of the virus, instead of splitting it up between him and Sun, meaning he was practically in his “hunt” mode all the time, rather than me being able to switch it on and off.” She let out a sigh. “Then you, Freddy. It turned your optimism into ignorance, being completely adverse to any sort of conflict or issue. To the average eye, you would seem the least affected by the virus out of them all, but that’s because you refused to acknowledge that anything might be wrong in the first place. And then…Bonnie.”

  “What about Bonnie, Vanessa? What do you know about him?” Freddy pleaded, grief and longing in his face. “Tell me.”

  “It…” she swallowed thickly. “It twisted Bonnie’s laid-backness into a sort of paranoia. He realised that something was wrong, and became obsessed with figuring out what.”

  “I…I do recall Bonnie being a bit paranoid leading up to his disappearance, and I…” his eyes widened. “I did not listen to him. He asked me to investigate with him and I…I brushed him off, I told him he was being silly, and that he should not worry so much. Oh, Vanessa,” he murmured in despair. “If I had only listened to him… would it have changed anything?”

  “No.” She shook her head vehemently. “Freddy, it wasn’t your fault, don’t blame yourself for one second. But Bonnie… he was getting ‘too nosy’ according to Glitchtrap and so he…he asked me to dispose of him.”

Freddy’s voice stuttered. “So is he d—”

  “I got Monty to do it,” she continued bluntly, interrupting him once more. “Remember how he just used to be the backup if one of you guys were out of commission? I used that admiration of the band against him, fed his jealousy and rage, and got him to dispose of Bonnie however he saw fit.”

  “What happened to him?” Freddy barely whispered.

  “That’s the thing…I don’t know,” she confessed. I don’t know what Monty did with him, he took his instructions of hiding the evidence so seriously that even I have not been able to figure out where he went, or what kind of state he was left in… and I am so, so sorry Freddy,” her voice cracked with guilt. “I know how much he meant to you. If I knew at all where he might be now, I would tell you, I swear.”

A moment of silence followed her admission. “I wish you had told me he was dead.” Freddy growled,

  “What?” Vanessa breathed, looking at Freddy in shock. How could he say such a thing about his friend?

  “If you had told me he was dead, there would at least be closure,” Freddy spat, his grief bubbling up to the surface as anger. “‘Missing’ leaves room for the possibility that he is still out there, broken, barely functional, trapped alone with his pain for years and believing that he has been scrapped and abandoned like he is nothing more than a faulty STAFF bot.”

  “Freddy…” she murmured. She couldn’t hold back the tear that finally slipped through her lashes. “I am so sorry…”

  “It is not your fault, Vanessa,” he sighed, but the words had a hollow ring. “I know it was not you, but I admit, it may take me some time to find forgiveness.”

All Vanessa could do was nod miserably, she figured that bit of grace was more than she deserved anyways.

  “There’s…something else I haven’t told you.” As much as she wished the conversation could’ve ended there, she promised Freddy the truth, and the whole truth he would get. “The upgrades…they weren’t just vessels to implement the virus, but also tools to help in your tasks.”

Freddy didn’t respond, but carefully nodded—well, not exactly nodded, as he didn’t have a neck to do so, but shifted his head in a similar sort of motion—at her to continue.

  “Roxy’s eyes being able to see movement through walls? That’s not just to help her win races. Monty’s claws? They really didn’t need to be that sharp to play the bass. Chica’s voice box? That vocal pitch wasn’t a glitch, it was an intentional feature to create distractions. Bonnie’s sensitive ears? Not just for being able to better pick out melodies. And your…” she trailed off.

  “What is it, Vanessa? What could I do?” The sheer dread in the look he gave her sent another wave of guilt crashing through her.

  “It wasn’t a coincidence that your stomach hatch could fit a small child. And—and its freezer ability to keep cold treats fresh let it…keep other things fresh too.”

The admission left a heavy silence between them. Horror crossed his face as he processed the implications of it. Vanessa couldn’t take it anymore, she walked over to the window, looking out so that she would not have to see the pain on his face.

It was sunny out. How was that possible, when everything inside seemed so bleak? It felt almost mocking; a reminder that there was a bright world outside but that would always be just out reach. This was just yet another instance to add to the ever growing-weight of her sins. Her life felt like a goddamn Greek tragedy, and those never had a happy ending. 

  “Twenty-six,” Freddy said suddenly. “This article says that there have been twenty-six deaths or disappearances connected to the Pizzaplex.”

She nodded, hands gripping the windowsill.

  “There are gaps in my memories,” he continued. “I had thought that they were just odd glitches…but they were not, were they?”

  “Vanessa?”

She forced her eyes away from the window to look back at the bear, bracing herself because she knew what he was going to ask before he did. His eyes held a deep grief. “Please, be honest with me. Were any of those disappearances caused by my hands?”

She simply stared at him, unable to bring herself to utter the words. The longer she stared, the longer the silence stretched, the more Freddy seemed to realise the answer to the question himself. She gave the smallest of nods, turning back to the window so that she wouldn’t have to see his reaction to this confirmation of what was probably his worst fears.

But he didn’t say anything, and the silence stretched on. Her hands tightened the windowsill as she shook slightly. She didn’t know what Freddy was thinking. She wished he would say something, anything, yell at her even, call her any vile name he wished. That would be better than this suffocating, grief-filled silence.

  “Why did you not tell me?” Was the only thing he finally said.

Vanessa turned back to him, wrapping her arms around herself. “Do you have any idea,” she whispered, voice choked with emotion, “what I would give to be in your position? To not have to see their faces every time I close my eyes?” Quiet tears streamed down her face. “You were so happy not knowing, and I just…couldn’t bring myself to shatter that.” She sank to her knees, back against the wall and head resting in her hands. “I should have told you, I-I know,” she choked into her hands. “…I’m so sorry, Freddy…”

“Sorry” didn’t mean anything though. It didn’t change the fact that she had turned him and his friends into murder machines, it didn’t change the fact that she had orchestrated the decommissioning of his best friend, it didn’t change the fact that she’d selfishly hidden this information from him for months. It didn’t change a damn thing, at the end of the day the word was meaningless, and Freddy had every right to hate her for it.

  “Vanessa,” he said quietly, breaking her from her misery. “Could you come here, please?”

She peeked up. Tears blurred her vision so she couldn’t get a read on his face. But she got up and stepped over, gingerly perching herself next to him on the sofa and staring at her lap, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  “I would like you to pick me up.”

   What? She blinked the tears out of her eyes, baffled at this request, but obliged anyway.

  “Now place me in your lap.”

She did, still confused.

  “And wrap your arms around me.”

…Oh.

A hug. That dumbass had tricked her into hugging him.

Was it for his own sake? Was he doing it for her? She didn’t know, but…she melted anyway, folding her arms around him and drawing him close to her chest.

  “I’m sorry,” she hiccuped, burying her face against his top hat.

  “Shh, shh. It is alright, Vanessa,” he told her, and the low, comforting rumble of his voice box helped to soothe the ache of guilt some. “Do not blame yourself. You were a victim as much as we were.”

The tears kept coming. He shouldn’t be comforting her, she thought miserably, he was the one who had just had all this horrible news dropped on him. Or maybe…he was leaning on her and much as she was on him. A mutual comfort that came from knowing the other had gone through the same thing, though in slightly different forms.

  “I will admit, this is…difficult for me to process,” Freddy admitted after a moment. “This is something that I will need time to think about. To…to come to terms with. But please, do not blame yourself. If I am not allowed to blame myself, then neither are you.”

  “I still shouldn’t have hidden it from you,” she sniffed.

  “You should not have,” he agreed softly. “But I forgive you, Vanessa, I understand why you were reluctant to tell me. And…I wish for you to forgive yourself, too.”

   But I don’t deserve it. She didn’t understand why him, Gregory, and Luis, even, had been so ready to give her a second chance. What they could possibly see in her that was worth forgiving.

It was a minute that they stayed like that, until Vanessa finally released him, placing him back on the sofa next to her.

  “Thank you, Freddy,” she whispered, swiping at her face with her sleeve. It was shockingly easy to forget that Freddy was not only a robot, but also was pop culture icon Freddy Fazbear himself. To her, he was just…Freddy. Goofy, kind-hearted Freddy who was a staple in this home just as much as Gregory.

How unthinkable this situation would’ve been to her even just a few months ago.

The weight of everything revealed that afternoon hurt, but…she did feel a little lighter, now that she could share the burden of this knowledge with Freddy. She could only hope that, without the actual memories of the actions, he would be able to process everything easier than she had. And also the fact that he was a computer and had literal processors…

Well, the fact that Freddy had any emotions or sentience at all was an enigma, probably would be best to not think about the logistics of it too hard, before it gave her a headache.

  “I accept your offer, Vanessa. I want to go back to the Pizzaplex,” Freddy said, face hardened in resolve. “I wish to have a new body, and, if at all possible, to look for my friends. I want to see if they are free of the virus now too, and help them in any way I possibly can. I will not be ignorant to their struggles any longer.”

  “Okay,” she nodded. “It’s a deal. We’ll go some night this weekend, then. I’ll ask Luis if he can watch Gregory.”

  “I’m going too.”

Freddy gasped, and Vanessa whipped her head around to find Gregory up and standing there at the edge of the hallway, his Freddy-themed blanket clutched around his shoulders.

  “Gregory!” She exclaimed, and forced a weak smile onto her face as she replayed the last bit of their conversation in her head. Shit, how much had he heard? “How— how long have you been standing there?”

He didn’t answer, instead pattering over to the sofa and throwing himself down on the other side of Freddy. “I’m going too,” he repeated firmly.

  “Like hell you are,” she retorted. “Kid, I can’t expect you to go back there after what you went through. Besides, we don’t know if it’s even safe.”

  “I agree with Vanessa,” Freddy added. “Superstar, I do not think it would be wise for you to accompany us.”

  “I’m. Going. Too.”

  “Why?” She asked in bewilderment. “I thought you would never want to step foot in that building again.”

  “Freddy wants to see his friends again. And he’s already done so many nice things for me, s-so I should help him with something he wants now.” He sniffed, voice wavering. “A-And I was the one who broke them in the first place, so isn’t it my responsibility?”

  “Superstar… I appreciate your concern, but I have already told you that I do not blame you for decommissioning my friends. Truly, this is not your burden to bear,” Freddy said gently.

  “I don’t care, I’m coming,” he pouted, crossing his arms.

Vanessa groaned softly, leaning forwards and rubbing her temples. “If I say no, you’re just going to keep asking, aren’t you,” she said, already resigned to Gregory’s shenanigans.

  “Yup.”

  “And if we try to leave you behind, you’re just going to find some way to stowaway in the back of the truck anyway.”

  “Yup.”

  “…I really hate this, you know.”

  “Yup,” he replied again, popping the “p” sound, and scooped Freddy up into his lap. “But I’m going.”

She let out a long, resigned sigh, wondering just how she managed to end up with the most stubborn kid in the entirety of Utah.

  “ If we do this,” she said, emphasising the if, and pointed at the boy seriously, “you are sticking to our side like glue, got it?”

  “Mhm!” He nodded his head enthusiastically, looking all-too pleased with himself. She rolled her eyes.

  “And Freddy,” she then addressed the bear, “if I feel that searching for the others is putting Gregory in any danger whatsoever, we are calling it quits and going home.”

  “Of course, Vanessa,” he said solemnly. “I would ask for nothing more. Thank you.”

Gregory stared at her eagerly, waiting for her to give her final verdict. She sighed again, being the one to break the stare. “…Alright. In a couple days, when you’ve recovered some more of your strength…” She hated each and every word of what she was about to say, but did so regardless. The decision had been made, there was nothing she could do to change his mind, so all that was left was to swallow her dread and deal with this outcome as well as she could. “…we’ll make a trip back to the Pizzaplex.”

Chapter Text

  “Got your Fazerblaster?”

  “Mhm.”

  “Flashlight? Water bottle?”

  “Mhm.”

  “And your watch is fully charged?”

  “Nessaaaaa,” Gregory whined, slinging his duffel bag onto his shoulder as he stood in the porch, “you’ve asked me this like a dozen times already. Everything is here in the bag, chill.”

  “Just making sure,” Vanessa huffed, patting her pockets and belt to make sure she had everything she needed. Fully-charged phone, her own flashlight, keys (she had conveniently “forgotten” to turn in her set of the Pizzaplex keys when she’d quit), and taser.

  “Vanessa is wise to be concerned, superstar,” Freddy added, from where he was already tucked away in the duffel.

She let out a sigh. She knew that no amount of double-checking and planning would make her feel any more prepared for what they were about to do, but that didn’t make it any easier to swallow.

Going back to the Pizzaplex.

The place where she was forced to work against her will for years. Where Freddy was ripped to shreds. Where Gregory almost died. The place she had sworn she would never step foot in again.

She’d done a lot of stupid things over her life–gathering the tapes took the number one spot–but she wondered if this just may be the second stupidest. Part of her considered changing her mind and getting Gregory to stay back with Luis after all, no matter how pissed she knew the kid would be; it was a small price to pay for his ensured safety. But she also knew it was too late to back out.

They were prepared, they would stick together, Freddy would get his new body and everything would be a-okay. Even so, she had got them to put on their darkest, most inconspicuous clothing, in case they needed to… hide from things. Just in case, y’know? She was wearing all black, right from her steel-toed boots up to the hoodie she had tucked her colourful hair into. Gregory had black cargo joggers and a dark blue hoodie. His shoes were unfortunately a bright carmine red—they would stick out like a beacon in the shadows—but not much she could do about that.

  “Wait a minute, how do you know they don’t have a new night guard we’ll have to look out for anyway?” Gregory frowned at her quizzically.

  “I have my sources,” she said cryptically. (Those sources being internal company systems she still knew the backdoors to.) “They haven’t rehired a security guard.”

  “If you say so,” he shrugged, rocking back and forth impatiently. “Well? Aren’t we ready to go yet?”

She compulsively patted her pockets one last time, finding everything as it should.

  “Yeah,” she breathed, swallowing the lump of anxiety in her throat and gripped the front door knob. “Yeah, let’s go.”

In the truck, Vanessa sipped on a crappy takeout coffee from whatever drive-thru coffee place she could find still open 11:30 at night. Gregory on the other hand was happily munching away on a chocolate donut he’d coerced her into getting for him (and by “coerced”, he had simply asked and Vanessa had caved immediately, grateful that he had an appetite back at all).

The drive was…quiet. What really was there to say? Their plan, or lack thereof, had already been discussed in length. Get in, get Freddy a new body, steal—er, borrow—a generator (because a phone charger wouldn’t be sufficient for him anymore), and maybe look around for signs of Freddy’s friends.

But Vanessa wasn’t hopeful on that last part. It’d been over two months now, and neither employee nor police investigator had been able to find them (save for the DJ, who was apparently still chilling in his arcade). Which was… more than slightly worrying. The Pizzaplex was big, but only so big, and it’d been searched top-to-bottom multiple times now. They could have escaped, sure, but they could’ve only gotten so far without needing to charge, and surely somebody would’ve spotted them…

So the question remained: where were they?

She didn’t say so to Freddy, but she kinda hoped they didn’t find them. Something was very, deeply wrong about the whole situation, she knew it in her gut. She just couldn’t pinpoint exactly what that was.

She shook her head to dispel the dread pooling her stomach, focusing all her attention back on the road. They would be fine, because they were together, and they were coming prepared. Unable to be alone with her thoughts any longer, she asked Greg if he wanted to turn on the radio. He did. The song that was playing was “I Gotta Feeling”.

It made her wince. Something about it felt horribly ironic.

Like a bad omen.

She slammed the truck door shut and leaned against it, looking at the building looming in front of them.

It hadn’t changed a bit—then again, why would it have? It’d only been a little over two months after all.

Two months that had felt like a lifetime, with the way her life had been thoroughly and completely flipped on its head—for the better, of course.

But looking at the building again now, it felt like just yesterday the three of them had escaped it. Even the neon signage was still glowing, despite the Pizzaplex being closed, beckoning them to come inside with its allures of fun and wonder. Ominous in a way that a kid’s entertainment complex really had no business in being. But whoop-de-fucking-doo, this was a Freddy's, what did she expect?

Gregory came to stand beside her, duffel bag straps clutched in his hands, its zipper opened to let Freddy look out. Greg didn’t seem as thrilled to be coming back now that they were here.

He looked at her, waiting for her to take the lead. Her heart seemed to be in her throat, trying to choke her. She swallowed it down. “Grab my hand,” she murmured, reaching out and trying to focus on the feeling of the boy’s hand in hers for comfort.

Silently, they crossed the parking lot until they were standing in front of the doors. The shattered window above the entrance was still there—the one she’d let Gregory smash with a crowbar—though it had since been boarded up. She took out her set of duped keys and began fiddling with the lock.

  “We’re breaking in for real this time,” Gregory whispered, sounding incredibly loud in the silence of the night.

The lock clicked open. She re-grabbed his hand. “You’re my partner-in-crime again,” she replied, trying a smile for his sake.

She gave his hand three squeezes. It was a little something she’d taught him recently; a non-verbal way of conveying “I’m okay” for when they were having bad days and couldn’t find it in themselves to speak. It was something her mother had taught her when she was young, though for them it’d meant “I love you”.

In this case, she wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince Gregory that she was alright or herself. Regardless, hand-in-hand they crossed the threshold, heading back into the Pizzaplex again.

Luckily, the lights were on, so they didn’t have to rely on their flashlights. It was mostly the same on the inside as when they’d left too, except for some boxes and tools and cleaning supplies strewn about, and a large banner stretching across the lobby taht read “PARDON OUR MESS! WE’LL BE BACK SOON!” with an illustration of a STAFF and Wet-Floor bot wearing hard hats.

  “How will we get to the atrium?” Gregory asked as they crawled under the turnstiles. “We don’t have an entry pass for the elevators.”

She brushed off her pants, extending her hand to help him up. “They removed the bots stationed outside attractions, to make it easier for employees and cops to get around.”

He nodded, satisfied with that answer. They continued quietly traipsing through the lobby until Freddy piped up suddenly. “Gregory, why do I detect a knife here in the bag amongst your belongings?”

  “What?!” Vanessa whipped her head towards the boy.

He stiffened, before sighing dramatically with a pout. “Aw, Freddy! I hoped you wouldn’t narc...”

  “I believe it is a reasonable question to ask, superstar. You are much too young to be in possession of such an object, nor is it safe to have jangling around in the bag without a sheath.”

  “Greg,” she said calmly, pinching the bridge of her nose, “why on earth did you bring a knife? Where did you even get it?” 

  “Uh, from the kitchen?” He scoffed like it was obvious—which in hindsight it kind of was. “You told me we should be prepared for anything,” he reminded her.

 “Yeah, but I didn’t mean that you should bring a knife.”

  “Well, were you gonna bring one?”

  “Of course not,” she replied flatly as the elevator doors slid open and they stepped inside. “You know I haven’t touched a knife since…before.” It was true, she had done everything in her power to avoid using knives in day-to-day life, going out of her way to cook food that didn’t require the usage of one or stubbornly attempting to use a butter knife in lieu of it. For anything that did require cutting, it was an unspoken routine between them that Greg would be the one to do so, and also take over when the utensil needed to be washed after. Part of her felt cowardly doing so, it was just a piece of silverware after all, but still… And neither he nor Fred had ever judged her for it.

  “Exactly! So one of us should have a weapon in case of any not-robot threats.”

  “I…” Vanessa began, before realising that she really didn’t have the energy to argue with him on this. “You know what? Sure, keep your knife. See if I care.”

  “Er… Vanessa, are you sure that is wise?” Freddy hesitated. His concern was well-meaning, but something about this rebuttal irked her.

  “Freddy, nothing about what we are doing right now is wise,” she snapped, before catching herself with a wince. “Shoot, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” God, she was such an asshole.

  “It is okay, Vanessa, I understand you are stressed,” he said gently.

She ran her hands through her bangs with a sigh, frustrated with herself for losing her cool now of all times. She was supposed to be the responsible one. They needed her to be. She turned back to Gregory, but kept her gaze trained on design on the elevator’s floor as she whispered “Just… don’t do anything stupid, alright, kid?”

  “Since when have I ever done anything stupid?” He grinned at her.

She responded by rolling her eyes at him, who shot back by sticking his tongue out. The ding of the elevator reaching the atrium drew them back to the task at hand.

It was weird, really really weird to be back. Even more than the lobby, the atrium hadn’t changed a bit. Everything, from the way the tacky carpet muffled her footsteps to the motion of walking down the stairs (twenty-four, each flight of stairs in the atrium had twenty-four steps, she’d involuntarily memorised) was so familiar. Muscle memory itched to take over and follow the route she’d patrolled hundreds of times.

Most of the lights were off, save for the fluorescent accents (she’d explained to Gregory that was because it actually took more power to turn them on and off every night than to just leave them on). And it was deathly silent. Usually you could hear music tinkling in from somewhere or the whirr of patrolling STAFF, but now there was nothing. Just the three of them in this vast, shadowy atrium.

Vanessa had been here hundreds of times after hours and alone, but now it felt different. She wasn’t in control anymore, no longer the ringleader of the vile band. She was the intruder, and the Pizzaplex seemed to be holding its breath, watching them, wondering what their business here might be.

Like a beast examining its prey, wondering if they were worth becoming its next meal.

Was this how Gregory felt back then? Sneaking around the Pizzaplex? This overwhelming, visceral sense of unease, that you were somewhere you were not supposed to be?

As if That Night wasn’t bad enough for him already…

  “Do we have to mess with the showtime disk or whatever again?” Gregory’s stage-whisper cut through her thoughts, causing her to jump a little, having almost forgotten that he was plodding along right beside her. That knowledge helped quell the crawling feeling under her skin, knowing that at least neither of them were facing this alone now.

  “Nope.” She led them to the stage, revealing an “employee’s only” door tucked behind one of the large pieces of audio equipment.

  “Are you kidding me?” Gregory exclaimed after staring at the door for a moment. “This was here the whole time?! I didn’t have to go fetch that stupid showtime disk?”

  “Yes and no,” Vanessa replied. “I purposely locked off this door and gave it a higher security clearance.”

  “You? Or Vanny?”

  “Me.” Seeing his confusion, she elaborated. “Did you notice how the animatronics are hardwired to not get on the stage lift while it’s in motion? I figured that it would be safer to force you to use that if you were determined to get down into Parts and Service, rather than giving you free reign to another dark backstage tunnel like this where it’d be easier for something to sneak up on you. Same went for a lot of doors, actually. It was the little bit I could do to help you out and be able to pass it off as something Vanny did, like she was trying to block off your escape routes. ‘Course, that was before I realised you were a little gremlin who managed to steal just about every security badge in the dang building.” She grinned at his look of utter bafflement.

  “You…you were trying to help me?” Was his unexpected response to her explanation, and he looked up at her with wide eyes.

  “Uh, yeah? Was that not obvious? Who do you think tucked you into that pile of sweaters in Lost and Found when you passed out, dummy?”

  “I…” He furrowed his brows. “I hadn’t really thought about it. Plus you were kind of mean…” He mumbled that last part.

  “Wow, nice to know my efforts were appreciated,” she joked. Although, now that he brought it up…

He made a valid point. “Yeah, I guess I was a bit of a bitch, huh?” She admitted sheepishly, cringing at the memory. “In my defence, I was under a lot of stress, but that’s not an excuse for scaring you more than you already were. So, um…is it too late to say sorry?” The apology sounded half-assed even to her own ears.

  “Yeah, you were,” Gregory said bluntly. “But it’s whatever. Did you really think I hadn’t forgiven you already?”

  “Um…”

He rolled his eyes, looking vaguely uncomfortable. “Ugh, just forget about it. We made it out, that’s all that matters, right?”

   Maybe, Vanessa thought. But that doesn’t make what I did okay either. As much as that night was a bit of a blur for her, the bit she could remember about her interactions with him—not Vanny’s—were… not great. Even if she wasn’t the one chasing him with a knife, that didn’t mean what she did herself wasn’t damaging either. She had the feeling she was going to be thinking about this for a while.

That was a discussion they could have later, though. Gregory said he’d forgiven her, so she’d take his word for it for now. “…Let’s keep moving,” she said awkwardly, pivoting the conversation. She rubbed her forearms, trying to rid the crawling sensation like they were being watched. “I don’t like just standing around here.”

They walked down the stairwell that laid behind the door. Vanessa kept her eyes and ears peeled for anything awry, but found nothing lurking in the darkness. Was it strange that she almost wished she did? She’d rather be face to face with an animatronic than with the persistent fear that one may be sneaking around somewhere.

A couple more turns once they reached the bottom, and they found themselves in front of Parts and Service, where Gregory set the duffel with Freddy inside on the floor next to the cylinder. “What first?” He asked.

  “Wanna come help me wrangle an endo?” She tossed him his Fazerblaster with a grin. “I’ll let you be the one to shoot it.”

  “Eugh,” he shuddered. “I hate those things, they’re creepy.”

  “Well, you can stay here with Freddy if you want,” she immediately offered. The last thing she wanted was to force him into a situation he found scary again.

  “No, no, I’m coming,” He said quickly, scrambling to follow her. And it didn’t take them long to find one in the eerie halls of the endo nursery. Being sure to keep careful eye contact with it, she got Gregory to stun it with his blaster so she could flick the switch on the back of its neck to shut it off. She let him do the honours of disconnecting the head, and together they lugged the decapitated metal skeleton back to parts and services.

  “Are you sure this one will work?” Gregory asked as they shoved it up onto the operating chair.

  “Yep.” Balancing a manual on the edge of the chair, she followed the instructions and turned the small dials hidden amongst the beams, expanding the shoulders and lengthening the it’s limbs as per Freddy’s specifications. “I heard they based them off an old type of endo Fazbear made in the 80s with adjustable limbs and stuff, so they only had to produce one kind to fit all the animatronics. They did the same for the Glamrocks. Ears, muzzles, beaks, whatever other additions they needed for each character are separate and can be snapped onto the skeleton,” she explained.

  “Huh. But why do they have so many of them? Do they go through endos that fast?”

  “Honestly?” She shrugged. “I have no idea. Their endos haven’t been changed since I’ve been here, not counting when they got their upgrades.”

She’d sat Gregory down and explained the whole upgrade thing. He’d taken it surprisingly well, except for when they had to explain what Freddy’s chest hatch had been designed for.

…Let’s just say he wasn’t too upset at the fact Freddy wouldn’t have a hatch anymore with his new body, shuddering and muttering something about “meat pretzels”.

Another concern he had was the idea that, because he’d given Freddy those upgrades, had he inadvertently transferred the virus back into him? But Vanessa had explained that they were pretty much just like empty syringes at that point, the virus having long been injected into the respective bots.

  “I think it took them many tries to get the endos just right,” she continued, “but why they’d kept the ‘rejects’ down here is beyond me. At least it works for what we’re trying to do.” She straightened up, giving the endo and Freddy’s head from where he sat on the pillow of the operating chair one last look-over. “Okay, I think we’re ready to get started. Freddy? You mind powering down while we’re working? It’ll probably make it safer for all of us.”

  “Of course, Vanessa. I will see you both on the other side.” But before he could close his eyes and power down, Gregory spoke up.

  “Wait!” He reached forwards and lifted Freddy off the chair, wrapping him in a hug. “I’ll be careful, Freddy, I promise. Don’t worry, I—we’ll get your body back!”

  “I am not worried, superstar, I have faith in your abilities, both of you,” he said warmly. “I will see you soon.”

Gregory nodded, and reluctantly set his head back down.

They watched as Freddy powered down, listening to his internal mechanisms slow down and finally come to a complete halt.

  “You ready for this, bud?” Vanessa asked, clapping him on the shoulder.

  “Yeah.” He glanced up at her, a determined look on his face. “Let’s fix Freddy!”

The procedure was fairly quick, all they really had to do was attach the head and then calibrate the endo. They didn’t bother turning on the obnoxious intercom thingy that walks technicians through procedures, they were going entirely freehand.

Gregory was with her every step of the way, doing whatever he could. She’d known he had a knack for coding—he’d jailbroken Freddy to give him access to the internet after all, but that kid really knew his way around machinery. Honestly, he was doing most of the work, she was just there as a guiding hand.

After that they left for a minute to hunt down some spare casing for him, which they did find in a box after a couple minutes of searching, and snapped it onto his endo. The casing only had a basic paint job, though, missing most of his iconic markings like the lightning bolt on his chest. Additionally, she decided to wait until Freddy was awake to add his accessories, like his shoulder pads and studded arm bands.

The more they worked, the more excited she could tell Gregory was getting. Seeing Freddy with his casing fully on now, he was practically bouncing, flapping his hands in anticipation while he waited for her to finish the diagnostics.

She told him they had to wait outside of the cylinder while he powered back on, as a procedure of this scale could result in him being a bit disoriented for a moment. Not that she could ever see Freddy hurting either of them—voluntarily, that is. But better to be safe than sorry, right?

So they did. Vanessa put an arm around his shoulder while they waited outside the cylinder, watching as Freddy woke up in his new body. They watched as his fingers twitched and eyes fluttered open. He jerked upright, nearly toppling off the chair in doing so but managed to right himself. He raised a paw in front of his face, stared at it for a moment, and flexed his fingers experimentally. They watched as he cricked his neck, raised and lowered his arms, and swung his legs over the side of the chair to finally take his first steps. They were uncertain, shaky, like a toddler learning to walk for the first time. But he managed to stumble his way to the front of the cylinder, tapping on the glass and smiling at them, giving them the all-clear to open the door.

Vanessa nodded to Gregory, letting him be the one to open it. He dashed over to the computer, pressed a few buttons on it, and the door slid open.

It happened in a second.

One moment, Freddy was standing inside the cylinder, the next he was lunging towards to Gregory with arms outstretched to grab him and Vanessa had a brief moment of unadulterated panic because oh god had she messed up the procedure somehow and Freddy viewed him as a threat or was he still under the virus or—

She cried out, hand flying to her taser and ready to rush towards them, but Freddy’s paws were nothing but gentle as he picked Gregory up and spun him around above his head with a hearty laugh, nearly toppling them both over with him still being unsteady on his feet. He then enveloped the boy into a hug, cradling him close to his chest. 

  “Ack, wha—! Freddy?!” Gregory complained embarrassedly, but his soft laughter and beaming smile betrayed obvious glee. “What was that for?”

  “For all the times I could not,” Freddy murmured, nuzzling the boy’s hair with his nose–emitting a small honk.

Vanessa felt as though her heart had melted into a puddle of goo as she watched the scene, and she couldn’t keep a smile of her own off her face. All of her anxieties about returning to the Pizzaplex were worth it for that moment alone, dammit.

Eventually, he set Gregory back down on his feet, ruffling his hair affectionately before he turned to Vanessa, holding out his arms towards her, too.

It took her an embarrassingly long couple seconds to process what he meant by it. It was one thing for him to hug Gregory, that was his kid. But her? What had she done to deserve…

But she found herself not caring whether or not she “deserved” it, as her legs carried her towards the animatronic and she found herself swiftly enveloped into an embrace of her own.

She’d have thought that the stiff metal and plastic of his limbs would’ve been awkward and uncomfortable, but it wasn’t. It felt right. And his hard chest pressed up against her cheek was surprisingly warm, the heat radiating from his mechanisms already warming the smooth plastic.

  “Thank you, Vanessa,” Freddy whispered, rubbing his thumb across the back of her head comfortingly, and she could feel the low rumble of his voice box through his chest.

It…broke something in her. Freddy’s gentle touch felt…almost paternal. No, that was silly, this was Freddy Fazbear, he wasn’t…she didn’t need…

Yet she found herself leaning into it, yearning for the comfort she found his paws brought her. Without the bear’s arms around her, she thought she may have sunk to the floor. Tears sprung up in the corners of her eyes, and she brought her own shaking arms up to return the hug.

She felt small, barely even reaching the bear’s shoulders at her full height. A sense of smallness she hadn’t felt since she was small, wrapped in her father’s arms craving for his love yet being met with nothing but distance and cold. Wasn’t it ironic, that the touch of a robot could be warmer than that of a human?

  “Why?” She whispered, voice cracking like she was that little girl again. “What for? What have I done to deserve this?”

  “Everything,” Freddy replied, like it was the most obvious answer in the world.

After a moment, she reluctantly dropped her arms and wriggled out of his arms. “Right,” she coughed, averting her eyes. She felt a prickle of embarrassment at her irrational reaction to a simple hug, hoping that neither of them had noticed her tears. “Um, do you want to get the rest of your accessories on now?” She asked, scrambling for something to redirect the subject. “And I’m sure we can find some paint to add your missing decals.”

  “Actually, Vanessa…” Freddy began, tapping his index claws together hesitantly. “I was wondering… if I could perhaps…not?”

She blinked at him. “Huh?”

  “Well— you see— what I mean to say is—” He stammered. Vanessa didn’t think she’d ever seen Freddy so nervous before. “I would like to…try a different appearance, perhaps?”

Gregory was the first to speak up. “Oh! I get it! Like how me and Nessa had makeovers?” He said, skipping over to them, and Freddy nodded enthusiastically in response.

  “Yeah? I mean, I don’t see why not.” Vanessa said with a shrug. “It’s your body after all, big guy. What did you have in mind?”

  “I… truthfully, I did not think I would get this far,” he admitted sheepishly. “I have never been allowed to have a say in my appearance before! It is…a little overwhelming. So I was thinking… would you two like to decorate me yourselves?”

  “I mean…” Vanessa was a bit taken aback by this request, but she looked towards Gregory, who was almost vibrating with excitement. She turned back to the bear. “Is that what you want?”

  “It is.”

  “In that case…” A smile crept onto her face, and she cracked her knuckles. “Let’s go find some paint.”

They quickly found the containers premixed paint colours ready for touch ups. Organisation may have not been one of Fazbear Entertainment’s strong suits (then again, what was, apart from blatant negligence and capitalist greed?), but at least Parts and Service was somewhat organised, the paint actually being in a place you’d expect paint to be, and each colour being labelled according to the animatronic it belonged to.

Freddy also decided to forgo his accessories such as his top hat, studded arm bands, and shoulder pads. Vanessa wondered for a moment how Gregory was handling all of this, considering how he idolised—or at used to idolise—Freddy Fazbear as a character (not even to mention the copious amount of paraphernalia with his likeness and iconic markings that he owned). But unless he was faking it, he seemed to be taking it just fine, endlessly enthusiastic about the idea of helping Freddy with a makeover.

After a bit of debate (with Freddy’s input, of course), they decided on a design of two stars, one on his face and one of his chest (“for my two superstars!” Freddy had said with a happy gleam in his eyes). The two humans played rock-paper-scissors for the first pick of what they’d rather paint (which Vanessa won, much to Gregory’s chagrin. But it ended up working out in both their favours anyway).

So with Freddy back in the cylinder on the operating chair, the duo got to work. Vanessa opted to erase his preexisting face paint and cover his cracks with a fresh coat of yellow-orange and carefully stencilled a sparkly blue star over his left (her right) eye, as well as changed the colour of his earring from red to a very specific shade of blue—at the bear’s request. Gregory on the other hand painted a—slightly wonky, but Freddy didn’t mind one bit—star on his chest. And, well, seeing as how Vanessa was a bit of a perfectionist, taking significantly longer to finish her paint job than him, it didn’t take him long to get bored while waiting for her, and he began absently doodling on the tarp they’d laid down to protect the surface.

Which, him now being so enthralled in his doodling gave her the perfect opportunity to mess with him a bit and how could she not? So if Freddy happened to notice her creeping up behind the boy wielding her brush with a mischievous smile, he kept his mouth shut. She flicked the paintbrush across Gregory’s nose, who yelped and immediately retaliated by swinging out his own brush–hitting her cheek, which quickly delved into an all-out paint war with the two chasing each other around the cylinder.

She had paint on her clothes, on her face, and she was pretty sure in her hair, but the knowledge of what a pain-in-the-ass it would be to clean later took a backseat in her head, the sound Gregory’s giggling and Freddy’s hearty laughter was much more important to her in that moment.

Although Freddy had to put an end to their fight when he caught Gregory with a full tube of paint in hand poised to squirt down the back of Vanessa’s neck.

Eventually they calmed down, and two lay sprawled on the floor outside of the cylinder, catching their breath as a newly-painted Freddy stood above them with an amused grin on his face. He had been (mostly) spared from their impromptu war. “I am glad to see you two having so much fun, but I do believe we have more to do.”

  “What are you, my dad?” Vanessa retorted, grinning at Freddy’s shocked stuttering that ensued. “Yeah, yeah, I know, you’re right,” she continued before the big ol’ sap could get a system failure or something, and got up and stretched. “Shall we go see the DJ, then?”

  “The DJ?” Both Gregory and Freddy said in unison. “Why?” The smaller of the two asked.

  “Well, he’s the only animatronic not missing, right? Maybe you could ask him if he knows anything?” She reasoned.

  “That is a very good idea, Vanessa.” Freddy nodded. “And the DJ must be lonely after so long, I would like to see him again.” He picked Gregory up, sliding him onto his shoulders. “Let us go to the West Arcade.”

  “Freddy, I can walk you know…” Gregory complained as they made their way out of Parts and Service.

  “Oh, I am sorry. Would you like me to put you down?”

  “…No.”

They entered the arcade to find the DJ sleeping on his stage. On the dance floor skittered a dozen or so of those mini music creatures, who swarmed them the moment they noticed their entrance.

  “Hello there, little fellows!” Freddy said cheerfully, kneeling down to be closer to their small statures. Meanwhile, Gregory seemed to be doing his best to stay as far away from the robots as possible from the safety of Freddy’s shoulders. “It is nice to see you again.”

One of the mini Music Men chirped something, clapping its symbols together and hopping.

  “Oho, is that so?” Freddy replied seriously. He seemed to be able to understand them to a certain degree. That, or he was striking up pretend conversation like one might when encountering a babbling baby.

Vanessa had been standing back a little, watching this go down from the sidelines, but one of the creatures noticed her, and gave a very loud, almost aggressive sounding clap of its symbols, and began skittering towards her with the others following behind.

She took a nervous step back. She knew these little dudes, she was the one who’d set them loose in the ventilation system after all. They were mainly a security device, able to alert her of anyone who may have been trying to escape or hide within the vents. They were small, and not equipped to do any real harm. But being pursued by a whole little army of them was a different story.

  “No, no,” Freddy said quickly, extending a panicked paw trying to calm them. “Settle down, fellows, Vanessa is a friend!”

They stopped, heeding his words. So it seemed Freddy could actually communicate with them. One of the music men scuttled forwards from the pack, right up to Vanessa’s feet.

She wasn’t sure what to do, but instinctively treated it like one might a wary dog, staying as still and non-threatening as she was able.

It circled her for a moment, nudging at her boots, and gave a clap of its cymbals—much gentler this time. Evidently she’d passed…whatever investigation the little guy was doing, as it scuttled back into the pack and they dispersed, going about their business again.

She let out a breath, and decided to try her hand at talking to one of them. She felt foolish for attempting to talk to a wind-up toy, but it worked for Freddy and clearly they had some level of sentience or at the very least grasp of basic verbal commands so it was worth a shot…?

  “Hello,” she began apprehensively, kneeling down in front of the nearest one, who paused to look at her. “Would it be okay if we wake up your big friend, the DJ? We’d like to talk to him for a bit.”

To her surprise, the mini Music Man actually nodded at her, and scuttled over to the stage, right in front of the DJ’s face. And crashed its symbols together, shockingly loud considering the size of it. Loud enough that Vanessa flinched, and she could hear Gregory yelp in surprise and cover his ears.

  Well, that’s one way to wake him up. The DJ stirred, slowly getting up on all six of his appendages and turning his massive head from side to side, as if stretching his neck, then opened his mouth in an approximation of a yawn, but the noise that came out instead was that of a low synth wave. 

The DJ had very limited facial expressions. Upon noticing them, though, Vanessa could swear he beamed, emitting a happy-sounding synth trill and clapped his front hands together, then leaned down towards them.

Which, uh, wasn’t intimidating at all. Having a ten-foot tall robot head with a gaping maw right in front of your face. Nope…definitely not. And Vanessa definitely didn’t shuffle backwards, letting Freddy act as a barrier between herself and the DJ.

  “Hello DJ! Long time no see!” Freddy said happily, sliding Gregory off his shoulders and setting him on the floor, who glued himself to the bear’s side.

The DJ let out a chime, one that pitched up at the end, like a question.

  “Oh! You heard about what they found in Fazerblast? Yes, I have a new body now!”

Another inquisitive-sounding tune, and he pointed a massive finger towards the two humans.

  “You remember Gregory—oh, what’s that? You want to apologise to him? Well, Gregory, the DJ says sorry for chasing you…and…” Freddy faltered, looking distraught all of a sudden. “Throwing arcade cabinets at you…?! DJ!” He scolded.

The DJ hung his head with an apologetic nod, letting out two notes that together almost sounded like the word “sorry”.

Gregory rolled his eyes, muttering “S’s fine, I know you were under the virus or whatever, so…”

  “Uh, Gregory?” Vanessa whispered, nudging him in the side. “DJ Music Man was never under the virus.”

Gregory stared at her. “What.”

  “It’s his bouncer mode. He just kinda… does that.”

  “What.”

Freddy deliberately “cleared his throat”. “And to answer your question, DJ, these are my friends! I have been living with them outside of the Pizzaplex—”

He was cut off by a very loud, sudden, surprised-sounding riff.

  “Yes, it is quite incredible!” Freddy chuckled. “But it has been so wonderful! Could you imagine what Roxanne or Chica would say?”

The DJ made a confused sounding chime, cocking his head.

  “What? You were…you were going to ask if the others were with us too?” Freddy frowned. “No, I… I was going to ask you if you knew where they were.”

The DJ shook his head regretfully, letting out a sad note.

  “I-I see…” Freddy said quietly. “It is quite peculiar for them to have just disappeared like this. I do hope they’re alright…”

DJ nodded, emitting a note that sounded vaguely like a sigh.

Vanessa put a hand on Freddy’s shoulder to console him, as she could tell he was more distraught than he was letting on about the disappearance of his friends. Which was a bit of an awkward gesture, seeing as how he was a good head and shoulders taller than her, but hey, it’s the thought that counted, right? He looked back with eyebrows raised, like he had forgotten her and Gregory were there. Clarity replaced his troubled expression, and he turned back to the DJ.

  “I am sorry, but I believe we need to head out now. I promise, I will be back to visit sometime, as soon as I am able,” Freddy said, taking Gregory’s hand in his. “Take care!”

The DJ nodded again, albeit reluctantly this time, and threw the humans a wave as they left the dance floor, which Freddy heartily returned.

  “I’m sorry, Fred,” Vanessa said the moment they’d left the arcade. “I know you were hoping to find your friends, but it’s not looking promising.”

  “I know,” Freddy said heavily. “I know. It appears that searching the Pizzaplex for them would be a fruitless endeavour, I can only pray that they will show up again soon. So I suppose we should go hunt down a generator now?”

  “Um, about that…” Vanessa bit her lip. So she maybe hadn’t been… entirely truthful with them. Getting Freddy’s new body wasn’t her only goal of the evening. “You guys go on ahead, I have something I need to do quickly.” She smiled, not meeting their stares.

  “Vanessa…” Freddy began, picking up on her evasiveness. “What are you—?”

  “Trust me,” she interrupted, trying to convey to Freddy with her eyes to not argue it, she didn’t want to make a scene in front of Gregory.

They stared at each other, each silently begging the other to back down. “Please, Vanessa—” Freddy tried again, but she cut him off.

  “Here.” She shoved the duffel bag into Gregory’s hands, who gave an exclamation of surprise. “After you guys have got the generator, you can go nuts in Glamrock Gifts while you wait, grab some clothes and whatever else you want that can fit in the duffel.”

  “But what about you?” Gregory asked, loosely clutching the bag. “Where are you going?”

  “Oh, I have some belongings left here still that I wanted to grab. Don’t worry, alright bud?” She lied cheerfully, then pulled the boy into a hug. “Keep an eye on him,” she whispered, peeking at Freddy over Gregory’s head.

She broke the hug, turning and intending to head off before Freddy could try and stop her. But it wasn’t Freddy that stopped her, it was Gregory.

  “Wait!” He cried, tugging on her hand and drawing her back after she had only taken a couple steps. “You’re not—you’re not gonna do anything stupid, right? ” His brows were knit together in concern as he peered up at her.

Now it was her turn to throw his snark right back at him. “Since when have I done anything stupid?” She grinned reassuringly, kneeling down to ruffle his hair. He still didn’t seem consoled. “I’ll only be a minute, I promise. Stick with Freddy, okay?”

Finally, he nodded reluctantly, and grabbed Freddy’s paw. But Freddy still didn’t trust her feigned cheeriness. He knew as well as she did that half of everything she just said was bullshit, and gently narrowed his eyes at her.

She gave the tiniest shake of her head, trying to convey to him that she’d be fine, telling him not to fight it. This was hard enough for her already, and she didn’t want to stress Gregory. Because if he knew what she was doing—scratch that, if either of them knew what she was doing, they wouldn’t hesitate to follow her, and that was the last thing she wanted.

He stared at her for a moment, before closing his eyes and slowly inclining his head. An acknowledgment. He didn’t believe her, he didn’t know what she might be planning, but he was willing to trust her. She’d make sure he wouldn’t regret it.

  “Thank you,” she mouthed gratefully, and threw a wave behind her as she strode off, letting the smile melt off her face the moment she knew they couldn’t see her anymore.

Being the head security guard, she knew this building like the back of her hand.

She knew every little crevasse and corridor, every nook and cranny and everything they might contain.

She knew which closet held a fireman’s axe, and the quickest path from there to the raceway.

Glitchtrap was an intangible virus, yes, but a virus that had allegedly spawned from an old animatronic.

He had made allusions to the basement many times. The very basement, under the sinkhole. It was one place she had never been, it was never allowed. One of the few times Glitchtrap would forcibly take control while she was in her own body was if she made a motion to explore down there. Like an invisible boundary separating her from it.

Vanny was allowed down there, but only at the very entrance. It was where she was instructed to leave the results of her “work”. She had no idea what might lay in the dark of the caves beyond.

But she had a hunch.

The source of the virus, that’s—that’s where it had to be. That was the only thing that made sense to her.

The rotting, decrepit Springbonnie suit, if her educated assumption about Glitchtrap’s origins was right.

But after so long buried underground in a musty basement with no access to power, she shouldn’t have anything to worry about. It would be nothing then a festering lump of metal and fabric and bone. She would finish the job, and head home with her family and the peace of knowing that every bit of him was finally gone.

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t nervous about it. She wondered for a moment, if perhaps she should’ve taken Freddy with her after all, just in case. But taking Freddy would require taking Gregory, too, and she didn’t want him to see this.

She didn’t want to drag either of them down into this.

Just her and the entity, that’s how this whole mess started. It was only right that she alone would be the one to destroy the last remaining pieces of his legacy.

So with an axe gripped tightly in one hand and the other hovering over her taser, she descended down into the bowels of the Pizzaplex.

Into the belly of the beast.

Chapter Text

Every time Vanessa had descended in this elevator, she thought that surely it wouldn’t survive another trip. The thing was old and rickety, shuddering and clunking in a highly-concerning manner as it made its way downwards into the sinkhole. It had an odd glitch too, the display indicating that it was going up, not down, which clearly wasn’t the case. Like some Twilight Zone bullshit.

But eventually it reached the bottom. How far down it actually went, she had no idea, but the doors slid open to reveal cavern walls extending at least a few stories upwards. This was as far as she’d been, at the cusp of the caves. Vanny would leave the bodies here and retreat the way she came. The remains were always gone by the next time she arrived.

Hesitantly, she crossed the threshold. Every step of her boots on the damp stone echoed back loudly in the vastness of the cave, as did the incessant drip, drip, drip of water somewhere and a low buzz of electricity. The cavern was dark, save for a single string of lights leading into the depths, like a trail guiding her to follow it. A cool mist shrouded what might lay beyond, obscuring it from her view. She wouldn’t know what lay inside until she was already there.

   You’ll be fine, she told herself, despite the anxiety threatening to choke her. It could’ve just been her panic, but the air felt thin down here; she couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen into her lungs.

Nevertheless, she persisted. She’d gone too far to back out now. In one hand she gripped the fireman’s axe, letting its weight be a comfort that should anything happen, she had a means to defend herself. In the other she held her flashlight, sweeping it into every crevice and corner she passed.

  Damn, it’s cold down here, she shivered. The air may have been deathly still, but it was frigid, nipping at her arms even through her thick hoodie sleeves. She swept her light into a particularly large crevasse, and barely managed to bite back a scream, as the beam landed upon a massive, broken structure of Freddy’s head. Not Glamrock Freddy, this one was brown. The old Freddy, from the 80’s.

After staring at it for a moment in shock, she forced herself to pry her eyes away and keep going. After all, it was only a statue, and a very old one at that. It couldn't hurt her. It was a… weird, very very weird thing to find, yeah, but it showed she was on the right track. An old animatronic was the thing she’d come down here to find in the first place.

Inside of the mist, it was near impossible to tell where she was going, if she had got turned around, or if she was walking straight into a trap. There was a faint red glow she could see through the haze, so she followed that. And finally the mist thinned, revealing what lay behind.

Vanessa gasped. It made sense, given the clues that had brought her here, but it also made no logical sense at all because…

Why the hell is there another goddamn pizzeria buried multiple stories under the Pizzaplex.

The red light she was seeing, that was the sign, getting power from goodness-only-knows-where, the dimly glowing letters on the rusted marquee read “Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza Place”. The building itself was a dull red colour, maybe vibrant at one point but the unfathomable circumstances that brought it to be down here had left its mark. The doors were nothing but empty frames, the glass that’d filled them shattered and spread over the ground, but they were hanging open, inviting her inside.

This must be it, her hunch must have been right. The circuit boards that’d birthed the virus came from old animatronics, and here she was, standing in front of an old Freddy’s location. That—that had to be it. Springbonnie—Springtrap—whatever you wanted to call that piece of decaying scrap metal. It must be down here

She readjusted her grip on the axe.

And she would find it. She would find that piece of shit, tear it limb from limb, split each and every one of its wires in two if she had to; to find that circuit board and grind it into dust. So that nobody would ever have to go through what she did. So that she could finally feel safe in her own damn home.

She took her first steps into the pizzeria, glass crunching underfoot, and took in her surroundings. The place looked like it’d been open one day and just… abandoned. Like it’d been open and ready for children to arrive when some unforeseen emergency struck. Almost perfectly frozen in time. Plastic plates and foil party hats still adorned the tables, though many had fallen off. Chairs were knocked over like a tornado had blown through, debris was scattered around, and a thick layer of dirt and dust and soot covered every surface. A scent of mildew and rusted metal invaded her nostrils, reinforcing the idea that nobody had been down here in a long time.

She could see the stage—two stages, actually, one larger one and a smaller one off to the side—but no animatronics, or even remnants of animatronics could be seen.

In the middle of the pizzeria though lay a large ring of cement barricades, blocking what she couldn’t tell from her current vantage point. Curiosity got the better of her, and she walked over and peered over the barricades.

As if everything she’d seen already wasn’t weird enough, behind the barriers she found a giant gaping hole in the floor with haphazard rickety wooden platforms leading even further underground.

   This was a horrible idea, she thought, as she shimmied over the barrier to get a better look down. She gauged the distance from one platform to the next, and it looked like she’d be able to climb back up if she hopped down…

She felt like one of those victims in horror movies, the ones that you scream at through the screen because don’t go investigate a spooky noise in the middle of the night are you crazy? Well, she could sympathise with those dumb horror protags now. Because she knew it was a bad idea, but something was drawing her down into the hole, like an invisible string tugging her along. A tiny remaining sliver of the virus perhaps, longing to return to its source. Or maybe it was more like a siren’s song, luring her to her demise. Either way irresistible.

So that was why she tamped her common sense down and lowered herself into the pit.

The moment her foot made contact with the platform, she knew those things were not structurally sound. The wood creaked and bowed under her weight, and she thought if she lingered on it for more than a couple seconds it would snap. Better move faster, then. Platform by platform, she lowered herself down.

Something was wrong. That was a feeling that had persisted all night, yes, but it had returned by tenfold here now. Every fibre of her being begged herself to go back from where she came and leave this old place, yet she kept descending. 

She could almost, almost convince herself that she was being irrational. If not for the sound of something breathing that she could suddenly register behind her.

She froze, the hairs on the back of her neck seemed to stand upright, like a bristling cat. Inch by inch, she turned her head around, icy dread filling her at what she might find.

An abomination, that was the first word that came to her mind. It was a…a thing formed of oily black wires and animatronic parts, easily as large as the DJ, if not bigger. Embedded throughout the tangled blob lay various animatronic faces and pieces, and at the front of the long, thinner tendril of wires (the creature’s neck, maybe?) sat a Freddy face. Not brown, not orange either. Through the filth that coated the face—and the entire creature—she could swear that that face was at one point white in colour, with purple accents. Whatever this thing, this creature was, it appeared to be at least sleeping, or some approximation of sleeping, its body pulsating rhythmically like a chest that was rising and falling, and a faint breathing-like sound, that she could now recognize as being distinctly mechanical, emanated from it. It was a machine, but once that looked and moved almost organically.

   This was a mistake. She should not be here, she should’ve listened to her head. This creature, as malevolent as it felt, somehow she knew that it wasn’t the source of the virus, that arbitrary tug drawing her still further down. But she was in over her head. As much as she desired to rid the world of Glitchtrap, it wasn’t worth facing… whatever this abomination of machinery was. She couldn’t face this with a pitiful little axe, she needed a box of matches and multiple gallons of lighter fluid. She needed— shit, should she call the police? Was this thing a threat to public safety? Wait, no, telling the police about this would invite questions about how she’d come across it in the first place and therefore incriminate her…

Being so engrossed in her own panic and the creature in front of her, she failed to recognize the increase in the creaking coming from the wood below her. But when she took an involuntary step backwards, trying to put as much distance between herself and the creature, there was no missing the SNAP that echoed through the pit. The wood bowed and shifted beneath her, causing her to lose her balance. The creature snapped its head up, whipping its head towards her. Before she could even scream, the floor gave away, and her stomach plummeted only a fraction of a second before her body followed suit and she was sent tumbling into the unknown.

The fall wasn’t very far, only about a story. It was shock, more than anything, that kept Vanessa rooted to the floor after she’d landed. That’s not to say her body didn’t hurt, because it did— it’d knocked the air out of her lungs and her tailbone and shoulder had taken a beating. But thankfully no head abrasions or broken bones as far as she could tell.

She allowed herself to stay curled on the floor for only a moment, taking in a few deep breaths—immediately realising how terrible of an idea that was with all the dust filling the air—before surveying her new surroundings.

She’d landed on cracked ceramic tile— ow, and appeared to be in a…security office of some kind. Not one that she’d ever used or seen, certainly. The walls were a gross yellowish colour stained heavily by grime, black mold and… what looked like scorch marks? Numerous flimsy metal desks each adorned with an old monitor dotted the room. Large open vents sat in the walls to her left and right, and in the wall in front of her laid two closed metal doors, with another vent in-between them. Most importantly, she didn’t see anything in her immediate vicinity that could pose as a threat.

Okay, okay, she…she could work with this. Already she could feel herself slipping back into the familiarity of what she dubbed “crisis mode”, her emotions taking a backseat to let rationality and self-preservation take over.

A quick scan of the room again showed no ladder or anything she could use to climb back up through the hole she fell through. Damn.

But, she did have her phone. She would message Gregory and Freddy—nothing that would worry them, just that she had gotten a little stuck and that they needed to wait out in the truck until she made it out—then she would call 911 and lie and say that she was urban exploring when she fell through the floor, and pray to god that the authorities would let her off the hook with little more than a slap on the wrist.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket—luckily it hadn’t cracked when she’d fallen—and tapped the screen to turn it on.

And tapped the screen.

And tapped the screen—

   Oh god. Her panic started creeping back in. Why wasn’t it turning on? It was at full battery before they’d left, she was sure of it, and she’d hardly used it since they’d arrived. There was no way the battery could’ve drained that fast…

But the how or why it’d drained so fast meant nothing. Either way, it wasn’t working right now. And she was very, deeply screwed.

   Shit, shit, shit. She racked her brain for another solution while trying to calm her erratic breathing.

This was— she was in a security office. A security office meant she was still in a building or facility of some kind. And a building should have a custodial closet or storage room or something, right? Between the two doors in front of her, surely through one of them she would be able to find a ladder or something that was lightweight to carry and long enough to prop up to the hole she’d fallen through.

With now having some semblance of a plan, she picked herself up off the floor and grabbed her axe again. She was also fortunate enough to have dropped it when she fell, and it’d skidded a little ways away from her. Because knowing her luck, she would’ve accidentally impaled herself otherwise.

After a moment of deliberation, looking back and forth between the two doors, she decided to try the one to her right first. It was one of the heavy-duty metal ones, powered by electricity. Shockingly, the button to open it still worked.

In another timeline, maybe Vanessa would’ve tried the left door first. Maybe she would’ve lucked out and found a ladder and climbed out of this place, remaining oblivious to what lay down here; the reason this place was left buried.

But that wasn’t this timeline.

The door opened to reveal a dark hallway. There were a few bulbs in the ceiling, but they were dim and flickering sporadically. Well, she’d brought her flashlight for moments like this and—

Her heart dropped, finger flipping the power switch desperately. Her flashlight wasn’t working either.

It was one thing for her phone to be dead, maybe she’d jostled something in the fall and had broken it. But for her flashlight to be dead too, when she’d put fresh batteries in it before leaving and it had been working just fine a few minutes ago…

It was downright eerie. Lightning didn’t strike in the same place twice. 

But what else could she do, except keep going?

The hallway couldn’t have been very long, but the trek felt like minutes with how slowly she was shuffling, unable to see more than a couple feet in front of her. Finally the end was in sight. At first glance, it looked to be a dead end, but when she stepped a bit closer, saw that it actually seemed like a doorway that’d been haphazardly boarded up. Experimentally, she swung her axe into it, chipping a hole for her to peep through. She could see nothing but darkness beyond, but when she reached her hand through it didn’t bring up on anything, and there was even some slight air movement, proving there was indeed a room or at the very least an opening on the other side of the boards.

  In that case… Tightening her grip on her axe, she swung, repeatedly hacking into the boards to loosen them and the nails that fastened them. Once that was done, she raised her leg with its steel-toed boot, and kicked the splintered wood inwards until she had a hole large enough to shimmy through.

There was that pull in her gut again, the one that somehow, she knew was tugging her towards the origin of the virus. If she was lucky, maybe she’d found a storage room where she would find both the old Springbonnie suit and a ladder to climb back out of this hellhole.

She crouched down and climbed through the opening.

The room was dark, pitch dark, the only source of light coming from the weak flickering of the hallway on the other side of the hole. There was no telling how large it was, or what might be in it. Standing upright, she took a moment to breath after kicking that wall down—

   Holy shit. Vanessa clamped a hand over her mouth and face, flattening herself against the wall. She was immediately hit with a wave of nausea, very nearly throwing up.

Because when she’d breathed in, a thick, suffocating, horrible—and horribly familiar—scent of decay and rot and pure death had invaded her senses. Nothing like a rat or other small critter that may have crawled in here and died, this was a stench that permeated the whole room, seeming to come from every corner. Something, or many somethings, had died in this room and left to rot, never to be found. Until now.

Now that she wasn’t standing right in front of the hole she’d created either, there was just enough of the dim flickering lighting filtering in for her to notice the dark, rusty red smears on the tiled flooring, extending into the darkness.

And when she fearfully followed the trail up with her gaze, her eyes landed upon two purple pinpricks of light in the void ahead. Another pair of eyes, staring back at her.

The lights bobbed up and down, growing closer. Like the source of them was walking towards her. It stopped just outside of the ring of light, but close enough that she could make out a vaguely humanoid shape with long, floppy appendages atop its head. Rabbit ears.

Then, a voice pierced the dead-silent room. 

  “Welcome home, Vanny.”

She knew that voice. Smooth, male, commanding, a tad lyrical, with a British lit.

Vanessa didn’t scream, she didn’t cry or attempt to run. Nothing. She simply crumpled, sinking to her knees with back against the rotting wall, axe clattering out of her hands and falling somewhere to the side of her.

Because what are you supposed to do, when the thing that had ruined not only your life, but the lives of countless others, the thing that was supposed to be gone, that was supposed to be nothing but an entity in her own head in the first place, was real, and standing before her. Deep underground, where nobody knew she’d gone, and nobody would hear if she screamed.

It wasn’t a nightmare, her head could’ve never conjured up something as cruel as this. It was real, it was real.

It stepped closer, allowing herself to get a proper look at it for the first time.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t Springtrap, there was no… remains. Its body appeared to be wholly metal; an endoskeleton—nothing like the high-tech Glamrocks—formed of cobbled bits of machinery. Pistons and spools and gears welded together into a humanoid shape loomed above her, at least seven-feet tall, with purple glowing eyes and a toothy grimace set into its face. Wire bent into the shape of rabbit ears stuck out of the top of its head, and a rough vest and bow tie was made from what looked to be old fraying purple tablecloths completed the outfit. If she squinted, it could maybe bear the slightest resemblance to Glitchtrap.

  “Not happy to see me, Vanny? What a shame, we were all here waiting for you for so long. But even now you continue to disappoint me."

Even if the appearance didn’t match Glitchtrap’s digital form, the voice and mannerisms certainly did. She flinched, a pitiful whimper escaping her lips. We? A small voice wondered in the back of her head. But she didn’t have the mental energy to ruminate on what it could’ve possibly meant.

  “Don’t…call me that. W-What are you?” She managed to croak out.

He—it—whatever the thing was—cocked its head at her. “Do you not recognize your old master?” It chuckled, spreading its arms with bravado. “Or, what was it you used to call me again… ‘dad’?”

She violently flinched once again at his words, and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to scoot further backwards but the wall dug into her back. Her veins were full of ice and her fingertips were numb. There wasn’t a word to describe the level of dread, of despair, of fear, that flooded her head and leached out into her body, making her feel physically ill. So much so, that her body had seemed to stop trying to process it, leaving her feeling… detached. Hollow. Like she was a bystander watching it from the outside. Like it was nothing but a movie playing out in front of her eyes.

  “You’re not supposed to be real,” she whispered dumbly, shaking her head.

  “Oh?” Glitchtrap laughed; a dry, humourless, grating laugh. “I suppose you were hoping that I was merely a figment of your psyche that would disappear when you let that brat play those arcades, hm? Well, I assure you, I am very real.” It leaned down near her, its spindly frame covering her entire field of vision forcing her to look it in the face. “I gave you everything, Vanny. I gave you strength, power, control, family, and this is how you thank me? I believed in you, I thought you were a good girl. You’ve disappointed me yet again.” Its voice dripped with sorrow, regret for having such a worthless girl like her. It wrapped a pincer-like hand around her wrist, sending shivers down her spine. “You know how much I hate having to punish you, but you chose to betray me, so really, you have only yourself to blame.”

  “I’m sorry!” Vanessa blubbered. She broke down, curling herself into a ball on the cold bloodstained tile. Making herself small, small like she felt. Like she was. She made dad angry at her again, he was going to take out the thumbscrews again he was going to drag her behind the bedroom door with a belt in his hand he was going to lock her in her room he was— “I-I didn’t mean to, it was an accident I’m sorry! I’ll listen this time, I’m a good girl, I promise! I’m sorry!” She hiccuped desperately, the words spilling from her mouth in an attempt to placate him.

Glitchtrap— was this thing truly him?—released her wrist and instead pulled her into a sort of a hug, wrapping one of its skeletal arms around her back and with the other pressed her head into the grimy purple fabric of the vest it wore. “There there, darling,” it cooed, patting her head. The creaking metallic limbs brought zero comfort, yet she leaned into it anyways. “I knew you’d come crawling back to me, once you realised how weak you truly were without me. There’s nothing for you out there. I am the only one who never left you, who gave you the strength you desired. This is where you belong.”

His arms were cold and unfeeling and restraining. Not like Freddy, who’s embrace was warm despite the metal that formed him. Freddy… who was waiting upstairs with Gregory.

They became her anchor, their faces in her mind her tether to reality in this horrible circumstance, a reminder that she had forged her own life outside of him—nay, in spite of him. A reminder that she had those who were counting on her to come back safely. She wasn’t a little girl anymore, and this wasn’t her dad either, this was the monster who made her life a living hell.

She shifted her head, enough for her to see the glint of the axe in her peripheral where it’d fallen. Just within arms reach, if she lunged.

  “I wouldn’t, if I were you.” It tightened its grasp around her shoulders, the hand on her head freezing in a claw-like grip. “I could tear out your throat before your fingertips even brushed the handle.”

Her eyes widened. Shit. “How did you..?”

  “I’ve been with you for three years, Vanny, your body language is as transparent as ever.” It sounded almost bored.

She inhaled deep lungfuls of the festering air through her mouth, trying to clear her head. From the way it was talking, it didn’t seem to know Gregory or Freddy had come here with her. Heck, it didn’t even seem to know anything about them beyond the night Gregory was stuck here. It couldn’t use them as leverage.

So… she would pretend to follow along with whatever it wanted. If playing its game meant their safety, then play it she would. Besides, she had to remind herself, maybe Glitchtrap having a physical form was a good thing. You can’t destroy an apparition, but you can destroy a machine. “What do you want, Glitchtrap,” she said bluntly, tired of its theatrics and false sympathies.

  “Oh, acting like a big girl now, are we?” Abruptly, it released her, and she let out a quiet breath of relief when it did, feeling goosebumps forming wherever it had touched. “I only want to show you something. Come, follow me!”

She did not want to follow it. She wanted nothing more than to flee back the way she came. But she may have well still been under its control, with the way her legs seemed to move of their own volition. Every step she took was weary as she followed a couple feet behind Glitchtrap in trepidation, who skipped ahead of her almost merrily, leading her further into the darkness of the room. Then, it stopped.

  “Tell me, do you recognize them still?”

Vanessa didn’t manage to ask what it meant, because Glitchtrap clapped (more like clanged) its hands together, and a single bulb flickered to life over them. Just enough for her to see what lay in the room.

Mascot suits, many of them, lined the walls there in what she assumed must be a costume storage room. They weren’t any Fazbear characters she recognized, instead being nondescript animal and human-esq mascots alike. They hung limply, though with a weight that would be odd for an empty suit. Each of the suits were caked in old blood and viscera, and more crimson pooled around the feet of the suits, which the smears on the floor led to…

…Like a body had been dragged to and stuffed inside of them.

Horror shot through Vanessa’s body, every nerve in her body recoiling in pure revulsion, yet she felt frozen in place. Because it struck her, what Glitchtrap’s odd remarks had meant.

  “We were all here waiting for you.”

  “Do you recognize them still?”

The blood, the stench of death in the room, the remains having always been gone by the next time she descended in the elevator…

   No, no, no no nonono…

Twenty-six, that was the number in the article Freddy had read of deaths connected to the Pizzaplex. But it was a statistic Vanessa knew all too well already. If you removed twelve from that number—because twelve were the employees whose bodies had been accounted for by authorities—you were left with fourteen.

Fourteen missing children.

Vanessa slowly turned her gaze around the room. She didn’t count, but that… she could tell there were roughly that many suits in the room.

She clamped a hand over her mouth, stifling the wail that rose in her throat.

They were here.

The children, her victims, they were here.

Their poor, desecrated bodies had been stuffed inside of old suits like the rumours from all those decades ago.

Vanessa fell to her knees, her stomach purging itself of its contents becoming yet another puddle of festering fluid in that cesspool of a room.

She stayed there on her hands and knees even after she’d finished retching, coughing and sputtering and sobbing. Horror wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what she felt, there wasn’t an adequate word in the world. She was dizzy, she couldn’t think straight. Her head held nothing but a cacophony of screams, unsure if they were memories of her victims screams or an internal outcry of her own despair. She couldn’t breathe, her eyes stung, her throat burned, her hands and knees burned where they touched the bloodied floor, the floor of blood that she spilled. She was suffocating in it, couldn’t think couldn’t hear couldn’t feel anything beyond the memories of her murders how their cries sounded how their terrified faces looked how the bodies felt, the bodies that were here, here in front of her again they were angry she deserved their anger make it stop, please God, make it stop—!

  “I can make it stop,” a voice said, as if it could read her mind. A hand coming to rest on her back served to pull her out of her spiral, enough to register that it was Glitchtrap crouching over her again.

  “I can forgive you, Vanny. I can undo your childish mistake, make you my devoted follower again. I can cloud the memories from you. I can make you forget. You won’t ever have to see them any more.” It gently grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her up into a sitting position in front of him. “You can be happy again.”

Its words stained her mind, an infectious virus in their own right. The thought, the allure of it wormed its way into the crevasses of her brain.

  “I can make you forget.”

  “You can be happy again.”

She wouldn’t… she really wouldn’t have to see them again?

She remembered her conversation with Freddy, just a few days ago, and what she had admitted to him.

   “Do you have any idea what I would give to be in your position? To not have to see their faces every time I close my eyes? You were so happy not knowing…”

Now she was in his position, a chance to have the memories wiped from her brain like they had been wiped from his memory banks.

But was the price worth it?

…

Its hands came to rest on her shoulders. “Just say the word, Vanny, and I’ll make it happen. It’ll be much easier with your compliance.”

Her breathing was shallow, blood rushed in her ears and her vision tunnelled until the only thing she could see was that endo face in front of her. She licked her parched lips, half expecting her voice to not even work.

  “I–I want…” she began, voice cracking weakly. She inched her fingers closer to her belt, keeping her tear-filled eyes on the…the monster in front of her.

   I want my family.

In the blink of an eye, she had unhooked her taser and jabbed it in between a chink in the robot’s frame, right into its ribcage with a zap that lit up the whole room and rattled her teeth, then used every bit of her strength to kick the creature off of her.

And she ran, not looking back to see if she’d incapacitated it or not. Her boots skidded on the tile and she threw herself back through the hole she created. Her shoulder snagged on some splintered wood in doing so, ripping through the material of her hoodie, but it didn’t slow her down. The sting was secondary to the adrenaline pumping through her body.

She dashed back into that security room and immediately shoved the monitor off the first desk she passed, yanking the metal table over to under the hole in the ceiling with every bit of force her muscles could exert. Then she lugged another desk over, frantically trying to prop it up on the first one and create an incline she could climb up.

She fumbled for purchase on the smooth metal, it was like trying to run up the slide at the playground as a kid, but she grit her teeth and dug in her hands and somehow managed to scale the slick desks. If she jumped she might just barely be able to reach the nearest ceiling beam and hoist herself up—

Her foot slipped, and she landed back on the tile. With a bit of shrieking and muffled cursing through her teeth, she peeled herself up off the floor to try again, only to have the table tip over on her next attempt sending her crashing back to the floor, knocking the wind out of her again.

She didn’t have time to try again. By the time she had reoriented herself and gotten some air back into her lungs, she heard the electronic screeching of a highly pissed robot approaching from where she had come. Out stumbled Glitchtrap. Its eyes flickered between purple and an orangish colour, and it kept twitching and spazzing, likely side effects of the electrocution.

But very much still functional.

  “You—wretched—girl!” It sputtered furiously, voice wavering between different pitches and tones, sounding less and less like the Glitchtrap she was familiar with. “You— I will rip you limb from limb, I will gut you and lay out your innards for the world to see like a sacrificial lamb, I will strangle you with my hands, I will—” It paused, face contorting into an approximation of a smile. Its voice stabled, back to being the one she knew. “I will get them to do it.” And it let out a shrill, electronic whistle that echoed throughout the pit, and that felt like a needle being driven into her eardrums.

Glitchtrap wasn’t attacking her, and she had no idea what it meant by “them” either. So it was safe to assume that she could try and run, right? There were multiple unguarded vents and doors, any one of them might make a viable escape route. Even if it didn’t work, it would at least be better to try than to wait there like a sitting duck.

Yet she didn’t. She couldn’t even move.

Ever since the virus, Vanessa had thought she wasn’t afraid of death. How could she be, when it had surrounded her? When she had been the one to cause it in others? She'd practically had the grim reaper on speed dial. Even after being freed, she wasn’t afraid. It was only what she deserved, especially if doing so kept others safe.

There was a time, even, when not only was she unafraid of the idea of death, she wished for it.

But now, being stared down by the physical manifestation of the virus that’d puppeteered her and the promise of a painful death… 

She didn’t want to die.

She wanted to live, dammit! She finally had a reason to.

But her wants meant nothing in this scenario. At the end of the day, she was that weak, helpless girl Glitchtrap said she was, not able to even save her own skin.

The earth seemed to rumble. A faint vibration at first, but quickly grew in intensity, rattling her teeth. She wondered for a moment if the universe had somehow sent an earthquake, whether to help her in this situation or harm her further remained to be seen. But the rumbling wasn’t coming from below, it seemed almost to be moving towards them from above.

Just when the vibrations became unbearable, to the point where it almost seemed like the ceiling would cave in, an inky tendril of wires descended from the crack in the ceiling. And another, and another, followed by that neck topped with the white Freddy head.

The animatronic amalgamation from earlier.

It couldn’t even fit in the room, most of its “body” still up in the ceiling while the rest slinked towards Glitchtrap.

  “Ah, hello again children,” Glitchtrap greeted smoothly, extending a hand to scritch the creature’s head like it was some innocent oversized pet dog. “Now, then.” It gestured towards Vanessa. “Do you recognize this woman? No? Then maybe you know her by the name Vanny . The one who deceived you with false promises and heartlessly ripped your fragile little lives away.”

Her heart plummeted at those words, and the creature whipped around, red glowing eyes zeroing in on her.

  “Do to her as you please.”

Chapter Text

Gregory was like a kid in a candy store as he dashed through Glamrock Gifts, shoving whatever clothing and trinkets and toys he could fit in his bag. Vanessa telling him he was allowed to steal whatever he wanted? Hell yeah! He chose mostly Freddy merch, naturally, but picked up some Roxy stuff too in hopes of being able to give it to Cassie… sometime. He still hadn’t heard from her.

Freddy followed him around, distaste at the prospect of shoplifting clear on his face but he held his tongue.

  “After all,” Gregory had pointed out with a grin, “It’s called Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizzaplex, not some-grumpy-old-businessman’s Mega Pizzaplex. Wouldn’t that mean you technically own it?”

  “I…” Freddy paused, considering this. “I do not think it works like that, superstar. I am not sure of the legalities of an animatronic having ownership over an establishment. Why do you ask?”

  “I dunno dude, it has your name on it. Sounds like you own it. Because if so, it’s not technically stealing, you’re just gifting me some of your stuff!”

Freddy didn’t seem to have a valid counterpoint to that, or maybe he just realised that arguing with the kid would be pointless.

But anyways. They had already gone to obtain a generator, which had also already been carted out to the truck. When they were deciding on where to find a generator, Gregory unfortunately had known an answer immediately. The daycare.

He wasn’t afraid to go back there, to the dumb little place meant for babies. …Nope. Not at all.

He stayed solidly up on Freddy’s shoulders for the duration of the trek, only getting off when he absolutely needed to, as Freddy wouldn’t be able to crawl into the play structures to get the generator otherwise.

The daycare had been pitch-black and deathly silent, the way it was when he’d been pursued by Moon. But no matter how hard he strained his ears, there were absolutely no signs of the celestial jester’s creepy laughter that’d followed him back then, and they made it out with no issues.

  “Hey, Freddy!” Gregory called, holding up a sweater in either hand. “Should I get this teal one with your name on it or this purple one with the Pizzaplex logo…” he faltered. Freddy was sitting down on a bench, staring off into the distance, giving no indication that he had even heard him. “Freddy?”

The bear jumped a little, readjusting his gaze. “Superstar! I am sorry, I must have spaced out there for a moment. Could you repeat the question?”

Gregory lowered the sweaters. “You’re worried about Nessa.” It was an observation, not a question. Gregory knew, because he was worried too, but had been trying to ignore his anxiety by distracting himself by “shopping”. It didn’t work. “Do you think she’s okay?”

  “Vanessa is a capable young woman, and I am sure if there was an issue she would contact us.”

  “What do you think she’s doing?” Gregory asked, coming to sit down next to him on the floor.

  “She said she was going to find some of her old belongings,” Freddy replied carefully.

  “Do you really believe that?”

His responding silence spoke volumes.

  “I want to go look for her,” he decided.

  “No,” Freddy said firmly, perhaps more firmly than intended. But he immediately softened upon noticing the way Gregory flinched, and opened his arms to let the child step into his embrace. “My apologies, Gregory,” he sighed, gently wrapping his arms around him. “I did not mean to frighten you. But Vanessa has entrusted me to watch over you, and I do not wish to let you run off and perhaps get lost or hurt, do you understand?”

  “Mhm…” he mumbled with a sniffle, pressing his face into the animatronics chest. “…But what if we went together?”

Freddy thought this over for a minute. “If you insist, and it would help to ease your mind,” he relented, ruffling the boy’s hair. “But we stay together, and stay in easily accessible and well-lit areas. Let us bring your bag out to the truck first however.”

  “Okay!” Gregory perked up and grabbed his now-stuffed duffel bag to follow Freddy out of the gift shop.

They deposited the bag in the back of the truck next to the generator, though before doing so Gregory rummaged around and pulled out his flashlight, Fazerblaster, and knife.

Three tools; only two hands.

Deliberating for a second, he opted for the Fazerblaster and knife, figuring that Freddy’s eyes would be able to provide ample illumination if needed.

Then back inside the lobby, Freddy turned to him. “Where would you like to go first?”

  “Um… what about Fazer Blast? Maybe she went to go burn the Vanny suit or something?” Gregory mused. Honestly he wasn’t sure where she might’ve gone, but that was what made the most sense to him.

  “That is a reasonable assumption, but are you sure you are alright to go back there?”

  “I’m not scared,” he lied. “‘Sides, Vanessa is more important.”

  “Okay,” Freddy said, patting his shoulder. “But we can turn back at any time if it is too much for you.”

They traipsed back through the lobby, through the elevator, and through the atrium. Things had been going remarkably smoothly, so of course it was time for trouble to find its way to them again.

  “Hey, what’s that?” Gregory stopped abruptly. Something was scuttling across the carpet towards them. It was— “A mini Music Man? What’s it doing here?”

It came right up to them, stopping in front of Gregory’s shoes. Despite knowing now that they didn’t mean any harm, he still did his best not to cringe away from it. The little guy seemed almost desperate to get their attention, jumping up and down and crashing its symbols together. “What’s it saying?”

  “Hello, little fellow,” Freddy said kindly. “Is something the matter?” It crashed its symbols again. “You want us to follow you?”

  “Wait!” Gregory dropped to his hands and knees in front of the little robot. He couldn’t explain it, but just had… a feeling. “Is— is it Vanessa? Is she in trouble?” He asked desperately. Please say no please say no please say no…

  “Gregory, do not jump to conclusions, I am sure she is—”

The mini Music Man nodded, then hopped and began scuttling into the entrance of the raceway.

  “Gregory, wait!” Freddy called. But the boy had already shot to his feet to follow the little creature. “At least wait for me!”

Anxiety spiked into Gregory’s throat as he chased the robot into the raceway, not waiting to see if Freddy was following behind. He followed it through the maze of crates and barricades that crowded what was once the raceway’s entrance. They slipped into a side door, into one of the many employee tunnels within the walls of the Pizzaplex. He wasn’t sure if it was a tunnel he’d been in before, or where it might lead. Honestly, he wasn’t really paying attention to his surroundings whatsoever, his attention focused solely on keeping up with the spider critter and the only goal on his mind being to get to Vanessa as fast as possible.

Freddy had caught up with him, and they walked side by side through the dark tunnels. It was familiar, too familiar, to be creeping through the twisted dark corridors of the Pizzaplex after hours with Freddy by his side. Every little noise that sounded in the tunnel made him flinch and grip his blaster even tighter, the ridges of the handle digging into and leaving imprints on his skin.

  They weren’t going fast enough, he thought. We have to hurry and save Vanessa. They needed to escape the Pizzaplex, they— they needed to run, the animatronics were coming. Heavy metal footsteps were pounding towards him he could hear the gnashing of teeth couldn’t breathe he had to run he had to hide—

Freddy said something to him. Or, he thought so at least. But Gregory could only whimper, shaking his head. He was— wait, when did he get down on the floor? He was crouching with his back against the wall, he realised, eyes squeezed shut and wrists pressed against his ears. Cautiously, he peeked one eye open. “Superstar?” Freddy said gently, kneeling down in front him, keeping a few feet’s distance. “Can you hear me?”

Oh… right. The footsteps were Freddy’s. The clanging wasn’t teeth, it was the mini Music Man’s cymbals. The animatronics weren’t coming.

But… they did still need to hurry.

  “Breathe, Gregory. Is everything alright?” Freddy continued, gingerly reaching out and resting a paw on his knee.

  “Just… bad memories,” Gregory muttered, rubbing his arms. Ugh, I’m such a baby... “I’m fine, we have to catch up,” he continued firmly, cutting off any attempts Freddy might’ve made to get him to sit and rest for a minute or turn back.

The mini Music Man had waited for them, but you could tell it wasn’t very happy about it, jumping up and down impatiently and gesturing with its cymbals.

  “Yeah, yeah, we’re coming,” Gregory huffed, and stumbled to his feet.

Freddy gently took the knife from Gregory, and with his other paw took hold of Gregory’s now-free hand. “Here, does this help?”

  “…Yeah,” he admitted quietly. It did. The comfort of Freddy’s large hand encasing his own helped a lot. But he didn’t like admitting it. He was fine to run off on his own and take down murderous animatronics back then! Why did he freak out over the tiniest of noises here now? He couldn’t afford weakness, especially when it wasn’t his life in danger.

It might be Vanessa’s.

He couldn’t let himself ruminate on that though, on what if Vanessa was trapped. Hurt. Hurt badly.

Dead.

His breath hitched at the thought. He had to keep going, he had to, that was the only thing he directed his thoughts to. As long as he was moving, he could keep those thoughts at bay.

But they’d only been going for another minute or so when they stopped again, this time being the Music Man that stopped. Stopped completely, in the middle of the hallway, and had gone completely silent.

  “Hey, why’d we stop—” Gregory’s voice died as Freddy threw an arm out in front of him, forcing Gregory behind him.

  “Something is wrong,” Freddy murmured, voice unusually tense, using his body almost like a shield to cover Gregory.

Their robotic sensors must’ve been hypersensitive, as it was only then that Gregory realised—or felt—what the issue was.

A faint rumbling in the floor, quickly growing in intensity. It was coming from all around them, the very foundation of the building seeming to shake. Gregory instinctively raised his Fazerblaster and snatched the knife back from Freddy’s hand, going back-to-back with him. “W-What’s going on?”

It all happened so fast. Something shot out grabbed his ankle. He screamed, watching as more wirey black tentacles shot out of the ventilation opening next to him and wrapped around his legs, his torso, his arms. “Freddy! Hel—” he tried calling, but another tendril wrapped over his face, covering his mouth.

  “GREGORY!” Freddy shouted, a frantic growl that echoed throughout the corridor.

The last thing he saw was Freddy’s horrified face lunging for him before the tendrils encased him completely, blocking off his sight as he was dragged into the wall by the unknown creature, leaving the Freddy’s frantic yelling and the panicked chiming of the mini Music Man behind.

Thick, sharp wires and scraps of metal dug into his body, restricting his breathing. He couldn’t see a thing, it was like he was trapped in the centre of an inky-black tornado, his body mercilessly whipped and smacked around as he was dragged along with this creature.

He wasn’t sure what was going to suffocate him first: the wires constricting his windpipe, the lack of oxygen in this tangled net, or the panic that exploded within him.

Dark spots prickled in the corners of his vision, he was going to pass out, he knew it. He forced himself to stay conscious because if he passed out now he knew he would never wake up.

And just as quickly as it had started, it ended, the tendrils slinking off of him leaving him in a heap on the tiled ground.

He gasped, curling into a ball as he sputtered and practically coughed up his lungs, every inhale sending a spike of pain through his chest.

His whole body hurt. His head ached, his limbs were numb, he was bleeding from countless little abrasions and cuts, he knew he probably had bruised ribs, and his lungs were on fire.

But… he was alive. Somehow.

Which begged the question, where was he?

Shakily, he got to his knees and looked around. He was in a…

  A pizzeria?

That couldn’t be right, it made no sense, and yet…

He saw a stage, tables covered in party supplies with tipped-over chairs, and foil stars dangled from the ceiling. The walls were a grime-coated red dotted with faded posters, and the floor was your quintessential black-and-white checkered tile. It wasn’t an… operational pizzeria, clearly. The entire place was dirty, dusty, dark… and there was a gaping hole poorly guarded by barricades in the floor in front of him. That must’ve been where the monster had slinked off to.

  How the hell did I get into an old pizzeria?

Yet another thing he noticed though, his Fazerblaster. Somehow, throughout all that, he hadn’t lost it, and it’d landed a few feet away with little more than a couple chips in its golden coat of paint. As did his knife, having also landed not far away, which he miraculously somehow managed to not accidentally stab himself with. He crawled over and yoinked up his weapons. A quick pull of the trigger on his blaster proved it still worked, and he let the familiar weight of it in his hands be a small comfort amidst the anxiety of his newfound situation.

  His watch! He remembered suddenly. Duh, his watch had the ability to call Freddy! The signal was poor, but he repeatedly jabbed the “Call Freddy” button anyway, hoping that at least one of the pings would make it through to him.

He could still feel the ground shuddering from the wire creature, somewhere down in that pit, but as long as it was down there and not bothering him that was fine. There was a door behind him, he could go through there, see if he could get his bearings and try to find a way back to the Pizzaplex, or at least a place with better signal.

But any notion of a plan immediately shattered when he heard a blood-curdling scream echo from the pit. His stomach dropped.

Because he knew that voice.

  “Vanessa,” he gasped.

And Gregory didn’t think twice before he hurtled himself blindly into the pit.

Quicker than Vanessa could process, four thick tendrils of wires shot out, wrapping around her ankles and wrists, hoisting her up off the ground. She screamed, but her scream was cut off by another cable snaking around her throat. Not quite digging in, but resting just against the surface of her flesh, like a warning.

The monster snaked its head towards her, its face directly in front of her own. She was right earlier, when she’d thought it appeared to be a purple-and-white Freddy head. It was impossible to ignore, now with it so close.

  “You wouldn’t kill me,” Vanessa gasped between laboured breaths, looking behind the face of the monster at her real tormentor, Glitchtrap, or whatever this endoskeleton truly was. It was bluffing, it had to be. “You need me in order to carry out your twisted goals. If I’m dead, you’re stuck down here, nothing more than a powerless scrap of metal, right? If anything, YOU’RE the one who needs ME!” She yelled, almost hysterically. The wires around her throat tightened uncomfortably, yet she kept screaming. Screaming out all the words she was never brave enough to say before. “YOU’RE the one who's useless! YOU’RE the one who’s weak! YOU’RE the one… who’s…” The conviction in her voice sputtered out.

Because Glitchtrap was laughing. At her. Like her words were the funniest thing it’d ever heard. “Well, well, well, look who’s gained some spunk?” It said once it’d contained its apparent amusement. “Is that what you really think of me, then? You’re right that I may be limited in this form, but powerless? Oh, no,” it chuckled lowly, the sound grating on her ears. “You are sorely mistaken. It is true that I had hoped you would return to me, it would have made things so much easier. But I don’t need you. I can always find another follower; in fact, I have one in mind already. If we’re airing out the truth here, then the truth is that you’re worthless to me now, Vanny,” it said plainly, making a shrugging motion. “Nothing more than a broken tool. And a broken tool should be disposed of, wouldn’t you agree?”

Vanessa’s throat seemed to dry up, her conviction, her determination, all of it, dying on her tongue. She didn’t exactly care about this thing’s opinion; why should she? It was evil, pure evil. But being told flat-out by the thing that she trusted once upon a time, that was a part of her for three years, that she was worthless? It…

It…

Okay, yeah… it hurt.

And those hurtful words seemed that they would be the last she’d ever hear.

  “I think our little friends here would agree wholeheartedly,” it continued smugly, and with a dismissive wave of its hand, said, “Go on.”

The tangled creature shrieked, a high-pitched electronic outcry, and the plates that made up its face shot open, revealing yet more wires and a set of vicious looking endo teeth and two eyes with red dots for pupils fixed furiously onto her. Suddenly, it jerked her left arm out to the side, slowly beginning to pull.

Vanessa gasped, realising its intent. It was going to rip her limbs off. One by one. Not only that, but agonisingly slowly, too.

It didn’t just want her dead, it wanted her to suffer.

Tears pricked in her eyes, her wrist chafing under the monster’s iron grip. Her shoulder began to ache as it continued pulling. A dull tug at first, but that quickly grew into a painful burning sensation, muscles and ligaments being stretched beyond their capacity.

It burned, it burned so bad. Her shoulder was on fire, she could swear she could feel the muscles ripping and splitting yet it just kept pulling harder. But she didn’t cry, didn’t snivel or beg for her life. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of that. She kept her eyes firmly locked on Glitchtrap, wordlessly staring it down even as pain blurred the edges of her vision.

If she was dying, she was dying with her pride intact.

Every second she thought that was it, and that her arm was stretched to its limits and would finally tear free. But it didn’t, it stayed tethered. She hoped it would tear free, if by doing so would stop this burning agony.

Would Gregory be proud of her, she wondered, for standing her ground? Or would he too realise just how pathetic she really was. God, Gregory…

He was going to think she abandoned him.

That thought might’ve hurt more than her arm that was currently being ripped off. She squeezed her eyes shut. Everything became unbearable.

  I’m so fucking sorry, kiddo…

  “Nessa!”

She was hallucinating, she had to be. Delirium was setting in. Why else would she be hearing his voice now? Unless…

She pried her eyes open.

She had thought that this situation couldn’t possibly have gotten any worse, that this was a torture meticulously crafted just for her.

She was dead wrong. Because something else happened. Or rather, somebody. Quite possibly the worst scenario she could’ve ever envisioned. In fact, her one small solace prior was the fact that he wasn’t here, that he didn’t have to see this.

Leaping down from the hole in the ceiling, stumbling and sliding down the tangle of wires forming the rest of the amalgamation's body, came a small, grime-covered and bruised boy. Gregory.

It was like the whole room froze at this unexpected arrival, even the grip on her arm slacking ever so slightly, enough that it was merely painful instead of the tearing agony.

They locked eyes, his horrified amber gaze meeting her infinitely terrified emerald one.

  “LET HER GO!” Gregory cried, stumbling to his feet and charging towards the head of the wire monster. He raised his blaster, shooting neon beams into the wires ensnaring her but to no avail.

  No no no no nononoNONONONO! Every fibre of her body screamed. Gregory can’t be here, he’s supposed to be safely upstairs with Freddy!

  “Gr-e-go-ry, n-no!” She rasped desperately. You can’t be here, you need to run, go!

  “D-Don’t worry, Nessa! I’ll— oof!” A mass of wires shot out, striking him in the chest which sent him flying backwards and rolling across the tile.

Right at Glitchtrap’s feet.

She couldn’t do anything besides watch in horror as Gregory gasped and coughed, spitting blood out of his mouth and shakily pulled himself into a sitting position, now able to get a full view of the room for the first time, and a full view of the tangled wire monster in the centre of the room, still keeping Vanessa captive suspended a couple feet off the ground. 

She watched as he tried to scoot backwards, holding both his knife and his blaster in trembling hands, only to bump into a pair of metallic legs. He froze.

  “Oho, what’s this?” Glitchtrap said joyfully, and in one swift motion dragged Gregory up off the floor, grabbing him by his biceps and leaning down into his face. “Why, it looks like the children have brought us a new friend!” Its voice lowered, a dangerous edge to it. “In fact… I know exactly who you are. You’re the little brat who got rid of Vanny, aren’t you, Gregory?”

Because Gregory had been spun around to face Glitchtrap, she couldn’t see his face. But she could see the way he violently flinched.

  “Vanny!” Glitchtrap shouted suddenly, whirling Gregory back around but keeping one arm locked over his chest, its other hand with a curled claw poised under his chin. “This is perfect! I have a new offer for you, and I think you’ll find this one particularly lucrative. You return to me, and we’ll let the boy run away with a head start. If he can manage to evade you again, well, he’s earned the right to escape unharmed. Or,” it continued, voice dripping with thinly-veiled amusement, knowing it’d backed her into a corner, “you can say no, and this boy can be mine in exchange. Who knows? Maybe he’ll prove to be quicker with this knife of his than you. Of course, there’s always the easy way, and you can both choose to become mine. You can have an apprentice, Vanny!”

Time seemed to slow. She met Gregory’s eyes again, seeing the panic and fear in them, silently pleading for help. But, she also saw a spark of determination in them, the same sort of determination he had on That Night when he was trying to free her, and somehow knew exactly what was going through his head.

He intended to accept. He was going to barter for her life in exchange for his free will. He was about to agree to become Glitchtrap’s new plaything just to give her a chance at escape.

That realisation lit a fire in her, melting the icy, paralysing fear in her veins.

She’d be dead before she allowed that to happen.

  “Don’t you fucking DARE touch my kid,” she snarled, using every bit of strength to try and escape her wirey binds. The creature was still holding her, but it neither resisted nor assisted her attempt at escape, like it didn’t even notice or care at all. It was simply frozen—save for the breathing-like shifting of its body—staring at Glitchtrap. She managed to get one ankle free—losing a boot in the process, but she could hardly care at that moment—and used her foot to kick at the tendril around her other leg. “You lay one goddamn finger on him and I’ll—”

  “You’ll what, Vanessa?” Glitchtrap chuckled. She vaguely noted that it was its first time using her actual name during this whole ordeal. “You’ll—” In the blink of an eye, it’d removed its finger from Gregory’s throat, and instead scraped it across his face, cutting a jagged gash from almost to his nose down his right cheek to his jaw. “—kill me?” It finished tauntingly.

Gregory yelped in pain, clutching a hand to his face, and shakily removed it to find his palm smeared in crimson.

Vanessa screamed in fury… and so did the creature holding her.

The room erupted into chaos.

It abruptly dropped her, and she scrambled to her feet the moment the shock wore off, both her and the monster who just a moment ago was holding her captive now rushed in tandem, having a common target. Like a switch had been flicked. The creature's thick tentacle-like tendrils were everywhere, slithering across the floor and creeping up the walls, causing her to trip and stumble as she ran. Not only that…

For the first time she had ever known, Glitchtrap actually seemed uneasy. It released Gregory, raising its hands in an attempt to placate the massive, furious creature that was now barreling towards it. The Tangle, as she’d dubbed it in her head, was apparently having none of Glitchtrap’s bullshit, and grabbed it and chucked it across the room. 

  “GREGORY!” Vanessa cried, having reached him. “You have to go, run! I’ll distract them!”

  “Wha— but—” the dazed boy stammered as she shoved him towards the nearest vent.

  “JUST GO!” She screamed. She felt horrible for yelling at him, but they didn’t have time for arguing.

And then she was off again, not looking back to see if Gregory had heeded her words. Glitchtrap had landed in a heap on the other side of the room, twitching and shouting curses and empty threats at whoever would listen, a large crack and dark streak on the wall indicated where and just how hard it’d smacked the surface.

The Tangle appeared to be rearing its head towards Glitchtrap again, but she got there first, deliberately digging her hands into its endoskeleton frame. She wanted its attention fully on her.

  “Come and get me you bastard,” she hissed, and forcefully dragged it along with her into the nearby vent—opposite of the one Gregory had fled through.

Chapter Text

As soon as she was sure it was focused on her, she released Glitchtrap, throwing herself through the ventilation duct as fast as she could with only having the use of one arm, because her left one—the one that’d nearly been ripped off—refused to work, simply hanging limp at her side and throbbing.

She had no idea where this vent could lead, if it connected to the main ventilation system of the Pizzaplex or would simply lead her into a dead end. Either way she didn’t care, she would gladly take any scenario to ensure Gregory got out of there safely. She didn’t dare look back either, but the shaking and near-deafening banging of the vent behind her proved that Glitchtrap was very much hot on her heels.

However soon the vent opened, spitting her out into what looked to be yet another security office, this one much, much smaller—claustrophobically so—with a grate for a floor and a singular antiquated monitor on the tiny desk. But there was another vent opening both straight across from her and to her left, so she picked one to throw herself into and keep going.

And not too long later, inexplicably found herself in another office, identical to the one she’d just found.

And another. And another.

Which was how it went, she’d crawl from office to office, out of one vent and into another, trying to lose Glitchtrap. She pulled herself through the vents so fast that sometimes around corners her limp arm would smack into the aluminum walls sending more pain spiking through yet she didn’t stop or slow down. Her arm throbbed, her knees stung from numerous cuts caused by the jagged seams in the vent, sweat soaked the back of her neck, and every breath hurt between the amount she had been exerting herself and the sheer level of soot and dust in these ducts.

But she kept going, for what felt like hours but realistically was probably only ten minutes or so.

Eventually, she realised something. She couldn’t hear Glitchtrap behind her. Or, at least not directly behind her, the only noises she could hear coming from a vent somewhere further off. She risked a glance back, and found the vent empty behind her. She’d finally managed to shake it, it seemed.

So when she’d made it to the next tiny office—just how many of these were there? Or had she been going in circles?—she flopped down on the floor, the metal grate feeling comfier than any mattress to her in that moment, giving herself a moment of reprieve, a moment to breathe. She was safe—or as safe as she could be for now—but she kept her ears strained for any approaching thuds that would be her cue to leave.

Even the stale, warm air in this twisted labyrinth felt fresh and sweet to Vanessa now that she wasn’t being strangled or inhaling decay. She soaked in this bit of momentary peace, knowing that at any moment she’d be forced to get up and run for her life again.

That was, until she heard somebody scream. Somebody scream her name. A raw, panicked, blood-curdling scream. The kind of scream that could mean only pain and imminent death.

A scream from somebody she knew well.

In seconds she was up off the floor again  and flinging herself into the nearest vent towards the direction of the voice. “GREGORY!” She shouted, blindly pulling herself through the tunnels.

Another scream echoed back to her ears, somehow even more horrible than the first, giving her the desperation to move even faster. It sounded closer this time, proving she was on the right track.

  “NESSA! HELP!” The voice was much louder here, directly ahead of her.

  “I’m coming, Gregory! I’m—”

She froze, her anxious desperation quickly turned into confusion, then panic. Because when she made it to the next office, she found not Gregory, but Glitchtrap, staring directly at her, awaiting her arrival.

  “Nessa! Help!” It repeated. She could tell now that it had been the source of the screams, jaw moving in time with the words, its voice a perfect imitation of the child’s.

And then it lunged at her.

She screamed, exhausted and bewildered and terrified, scrambling back into the vent. It grabbed her ankle, pulling her backwards. Her hands slipped from out under her and her chin scraped along the metal as it tugged her out. She kicked and flailed her leg desperately, and with her hand somehow managed to unclasp her flashlight from her belt, and with a twist of her torso was able to slam the butt of it into the endo’s skull, hearing the satisfying crunch of it denting the metal.

It was enough to get it to release its hold on her leg so she booked it, scrambling on all fours back through the vent.

She kept crawling blindly, vision blurred. She was crying, she realised, everything she’d endured that night catching up to her. The straw that broke the camel’s back was Gregory, or what she thought was Gregory, screaming for her, only to be met with that monster’s deceit. A reminder that, even now, she couldn’t save him.

A feeling that only increased tenfold when she heard her own voice echoing from the maze of vents and offices, calling for Gregory.

Glitchtrap… or whatever that thing truly was, wouldn’t be luring her with her own voice, obviously. That would have to mean that… this ventilation system was one big loop, and that Gregory was somewhere in the labyrinth too.

That the monster was now using her voice to lure him.

And she just… collapsed, in one of the offices somewhere, her body forcing itself to stop. Every fibre of her being begged to scream Gregory’s name, call out that she was the real one and that she was here and he wasn’t alone until her throat went raw.

But it wouldn’t do any good. Glitchtrap was perfectly mimicking her voice too. It would just confuse him, he’d have no way of knowing who was the real her.

It was toying with them, leading them around this horrible underground labyrinth in a fucked-up game of cat-and-mouse.

And she was powerless.

Powerless to save him. Again.

She could do nothing beyond listen in horror as that vile thing tried to lure Gregory, hearing her own voice echoing through the tunnels and praying that she wouldn’t hear Gregory’s genuine screams echo back too.

And.

She.

Couldn’t.

Do.

Anything.

She was sobbing now, curled up in the corner of that dingy office. Her fault, her own head screamed at her. She should’ve never come down here, she should’ve been stronger and never screamed because maybe then Gregory wouldn’t have jumped into the pit to help her, she should’ve agreed to become Vanny again to give him a chance to run free, she should’ve never agreed to become his foster parent in the first place because all she’s done is drag him into danger and she was so stupid, stupid, stupid—

With an anguished gasp, she pulled herself to her feet. She couldn’t just sit there and do nothing… There was something— there had to be something that she could do…

She refused to be useless.

Maybe if she followed the direction of her own voice she could be lured with Gregory. At least they could face it together.

Except, something else occurred to her. Only the vaguest spark of an idea, but she would try anything at this point.

They couldn’t rely on voice to find each other, but…could they rely on a different form of communication?

She balled her fist and knocked on the metal wall of the office three times in quick succession. Bang, bang, bang.

Three times, like the three squeezes they could give each other's hands to convey that they were okay. 

Best case scenario, Gregory would hear and understand it, and they’d be able to find each other through a nonverbal game of Marco Polo. Worst case scenario, she was doing nothing besides alerting that thing to her location. Which really wasn’t so bad after all, since she would at least be luring it away from Gregory.

That’s why, despite everything, she shuffled back into the tunnels, stopping every few yards to knock on the walls and straining her ears for any responding knocks.

And eventually, she did. Faintly, far away, but she could definitely hear three distinct clangs reverbing back through the vents beyond that weren’t an echo of hers.

Even more, it was coming from the opposite direction of where “Gregory’s” voice was coming from, so it couldn’t be Glitchtrap who was making it.

Just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke, she knocked again. And received three faint knocks in return.

  Gregory! Despite her exhaustion, despite her fear and pain, it gave her the strength to keep going, to keep moving through this twisted maze, because she had a goal this time; no longer running in aimless circles. A chance to help.

She kept knocking every few yards, following the sound of the replying knocks that were gradually but surely getting louder. Nearer.

She quickened her pace, aching limbs and bleeding knees be damned, she was so close. One more repetition of knocks, and judging by the sound he was just ahead.

Anxiety bubbled in the pit of her stomach. At some point she’d stopped being able to hear Glitchtrap, the possibility of it being the one creating the knocking after all a very real fear. But she didn’t stop, didn’t slow down, the need to get to Gregory outweighing any of those thoughts.

She scrambled out into the next security office, and at first, didn’t see anything. Until she heard a quiet sobbing, the kind where you could tell the person was trying their best to be silent about it but choked sniffles and harsh intakes of breath would still seep out, coming from under the desk.

And there sat Gregory, hunched under the desk with his knees drawn up to his face and head lowered, his Fazerblaster gripped in shaking hands and pointed in her direction. He was trembling, he was covered in dirt and soot and grease and blood and the blue paint from their shenanigans earlier but he was alive and she’d found him.

  “Gregory!” She gasped, throwing herself down onto the floor. “Gregory, bud, it’s me. I’m here!” she choked out amidst the sobs of relief swelling in her throat.

  “No!” He croaked, the fingers on the trigger of his blaster shook so bad she thought he might just drop it. She froze with her hand mere inches away from him. “Stop it, go awa-a-ay, you’re not h-her!” He hiccuped, shaking his head that was still buried in his knees.

  He thought she was it.

His fear shattered her already fragmented heart, she couldn’t bear to see him like that any longer. It wasn’t the gentlest approach, but she just… threw herself at him, pulling him out from the desk and onto her lap and into her arms. He tensed at first, breath hitching, but upon realising it was warm human arms, not cold metal ones, that were holding him, he gasped and melted into her embrace, blaster clattering to the floor and he gripped his hands into her hoodie.

  “I’m here buddy, it’s me, you’re okay, you’re okay,” she murmured, reassuring herself as much as him. Tears slipping down her face as she hugged the boy into her chest and rested her chin on his head. “I’m here.”

He let himself break. And that was all she could do, repeat those gentle assurances over and over again because she was here and she’d found him and he was okay.

  “Ne-es-sa,” he finally choked out in-between sobs. “Y-You’re…I-I thought…and— and—”

  “Shh, shh,” she whispered gently, running her hand through his dirty, chocolate-brown locks. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here now.”

They stayed like that for a long time. In the middle of that dingy office floor, Gregory tucked on her lap with his face pressed into her sternum and his hands fisted into her hoodie like he was afraid she’d disappear. Sobs continued to wrack his body, horrible, heartbreaking, terrified sobs, and she could feel every bit of his gasps and trembles with him pressed up against her.

She was crying, too. Tears of fear, yes, but also relief. She alternated between rubbing her thumb along his back and running her hand through his hair and just simply holding him, reminding him that she was here. Reminding herself that he was here.

The tears stopped eventually, and after a minute of sitting there in silence, she gently cupped his face in her hands, mindful of the gash on his cheek, and tilted his face up close to hers.

  “I need you to look at me, bud. Are you alright? Did it hurt you?” She implored, scanning his face for any sign of pain. The cut on his cheek was… bad, still leaking blood and a considerable amount of congealed blood under his jaw and down the right side of his neck and caked on the front of his hoodie. It would undoubtedly need stitches. Tear tracks cut two parallel lines through the grime on his face, and cuts and rips littered his clothing. She used her thumb to gently brush away another tear rising in his eyes.

  “I-I’m okay,” he croaked out, voice scratchy from the abuse it’d endured. He averted his eyes. “Well my cheek stings a bit a-and I think I cut my knees and hands on the vent but they’re fine, t-they’re not too bad.”

Her heart ached at his feigned nonchalance. He was hurting, she could see it in his eyes, yet he continued to put on a brave face for her. Pressure built behind her eyes again, her lower lip shaking. “I’m so, so sorry Gregory,” she gasped, her fragile front of strength crumbling. “I never meant for any of this to happen, a-and now I got you hurt and—”

  “Stop it, stop apologising!” He pleaded, distressed. “It’s not your fault! I know you didn’t try any of this. But what about you? A-Are you okay?”

  No. Absolutely not. This was by far the most not okay she’d ever been in her life, physically and emotionally and just… everything. Though unable to see her own reflection, she was sure that she looked just as dishevelled (and probably even more, honestly) as Gregory. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” she said firmly, shaking her head.

Any retort Gregory might’ve been about to make was interrupted by the sound of her own saccharine voice echoing back through the vents, getting closer. They instinctively jerked their heads towards it.

  “It’s coming,” Gregory uttered fearfully.

She gently pulled his face back to look at hers. “I’m sorry, but we have to move now,” she whispered, regretfully but urgently. “Can you do that?”

He nodded tensely.

  “I’ll carry this,” she continued, picking up his blaster and climbing into the vent. “I want you to grab onto my hood, okay? We’ll stick together now.”

A faint tug at her hoodie collar indicated that he was following her instructions. “Ready? Good. Let’s move.”

The confusing twists and turns of the labyrinth may have been a blessing when they were trying to run and hide, but it was a nightmare for them now trying to find an exit. Every vent and office were identical to one another. They may have not known which way the exit was, however they did devise a plan to at least ensure they weren’t going in circles. Using the handle of Gregory’s blaster as a blunt weapon, they would stop only long enough to smash the monitor screen in every office they passed then keep going. There were at least two entrances into this maze, they had to come across one again eventually.

It was harder now to discern where Glitchtrap might be. Evidently it’d given up on luring them with each other's voices and had returned to prowling silently. The bang of metal-skeleton-on-metal would be their only alert to its presence, something they would hopefully be able to hear before it was too late.

Logically, Vanessa knew Gregory was right behind her. She had his blaster in her hand, could feel his light tug at her hood and hear his soft breathing from behind her and the gentle thuds of his knees on the aluminum. But that didn’t stop her from glancing back every minute or so, just to assure herself that he was indeed still there.

The vent brightened ever so slightly, a weak sickly yellow light coming from ahead. Another turn, and she could see it now, a square of dim brightness at the end of the tunnel.

  “Almost there,” she murmured to Gregory. They’d been… what, half an hour in those tunnels? More? Less? It’d felt like days, and almost as though she’d never see the light of day again. A reality they’d come incredibly close to.

She tumbled out of the vent and turned to pull Gregory out, the two flopping down against the wall and catching their breath. They were back in that first office, the large one, the one where she’d fallen through the ceiling. Finally out of that damned maze.

They couldn’t stop here, Glitchtrap was still chasing them and that tangle creature was god-only-knew-where, but she relished the chance to sit for even a moment after that nightmare.

So of course, something else had to come along and ruin their tentative moment of peace. An electronic screech pierced the air. Nearby. Not from the vent behind them, but one of the branching hallways ahead. She tensed, bolting up straight again and instinctively holding her arm out in front of Gregory.

Something was coming, she could hear footsteps now. From the hallway on the right side—? The one on the left side? Wait, the vent in the middle?

  No, she realised with a jolt. From all of them. There were multiple things coming.

  Are you kidding me? She was equal parts terrified and exasperated at that point. They were so damn close! What else could possibly want to kill them now?

She heard Gregory’s breath hitch from behind her, and she shifted her body to hopefully block him from whatever was approaching. She raised his blaster, the blaster that was long dead and wouldn’t do any good against a threat but damn would she try; it was all they had.

The thing in the left-hand hallway appeared first. Sporting a pink and white chassis covered in garbage and a gaping crack in her face where a beak should be. Chica. A second later, something emerged from the vent in the middle. He was missing most of his casing along with the entirety of his lower body, but there was no mistaking the familiar aggressive growling he let out. Monty. And from the right-hand door, a figure with a shattered oil-covered casing and stumbling blindly due to a distinct lack of eyes, Roxy. Not only that, she heard an eerie laugh come from above her, and whipped her head up to find two red eyes and a static smile leering down from the hole in the ceiling. Not as beat up as the Glamrocks, but still definitely looking worse for the wear. Moon.

So this was where the animatronics had been hiding.

  Damn, Gregory really messed these guys up, her brain unhelpfully noticed. This was her first time actually seeing them in their shattered state, and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t at least a little impressed at the kid for managing to cause such destruction.

Gregory whimpered, and the four of them immediately locked their gazes onto him (or, well, technically only three sets of gazes). They were pissed, you could see it in the way they looked at him, the way Chica twitched and jerked her talons, the way Monty growled through barred teeth, the way Roxy snarled and stood poised to lunge. But they didn’t move just yet. Seething with barely suppressed rage, yes, but staying in their respective alcoves.

Vanessa racked her brain for an explanation, for a possible how and why they would be here, and why they weren’t attacking. Until she heard a horribly familiar voice and noise of clanging coming from the vent they’d just escaped from.

  Oh, duh. The animatronics were still under the virus. Glitchtrap was blocking off their escape route until it could reach them.

Well, she wasn’t going to wait around to be ambushed. She saw a potential out. It was horrible, something she did not ever want to do, she wanted nothing more than to never see that room again, and it was something that would absolutely scar Gregory more than he already was. But it was the best solution they had.

Speaking of, Gregory was terrified, she could tell without even looking back to see his face. He was trapped deep underground, facing the things of his nightmares again with no weapon to defend himself and no Freddy to protect him.

Maintaining eye contact with the Glamrocks, not wanting to make any sudden movements, Vanessa inched her hand behind her, securely grasping Gregory’s.

  “Greg,” she whispered out of the corner of her mouth, still not looking behind, “when I say go, we’re going to charge at Roxanne and try to slip into the hallway behind.”

She chose Roxy, because the wolf would be the easiest to evade with her lack of sight. However, the hallway that she was guarding led to… the costume room.

She felt him give her hand a weak squeeze, which she decided to interpret as an “ok”.

The banging was deafening, any second Glitchtrap would be here.

She took a deep breath, physically and mentally preparing herself.

  “Go!”

They charged, Vanessa used her whole body weight to try and shove the wolf over. Roxy wailed in shock and frustration, blindly swiping her green-tipped claws out, catching Vanessa’s bicep.

She hissed in pain, but kept running, stumbling past the wolf pulling Gregory with her into the hallway.

  “Okay, now listen to me carefully,” she whispered to him urgently as they ran, adrenaline temporarily numbing her pain. “When we get in this room I need you to close your eyes and not breathe through your nose. Can you do that?”

  “Okay, but— why?”

  “Just trust me, please,” she pleaded. “I’ll guide you to somewhere to hide, and don’t move or make a peep until I come and get you.”

She ducked into the hole at the end of the wall, and quickly turned to help pull Gregory through.

Praying that he was heeding her words, that he wasn’t seeing or smelling what laid in here, she guided him through the darkened room.

The floor felt tacky as she ran, the coating of old blood sticking to the sock of her bootless foot with every step. She tugged Gregory down to the floor, gently but quickly shoving him behind one of the hanging costumes—what was once a pink and green something-or-other.

Behind one of the hanging bodies.

  “Remember: eyes closed, nose shut, not a sound, not a move. I’ll be nearby,” she instructed, the sound of Roxy’s furious charging getting closer exacerbating her urgency.

Gregory nodded weakly, curling himself into a ball tucked between the costume and the wall. Good.

As much as she wanted to make sure he was okay, give him more reassurances that she would be nearby, not have to do this in the first place, she had to move, and ran across the room throwing herself behind another one of her victim’s bodies. No, the suits. They were just old, empty suits. She couldn’t think about the bodies, the desecrated bodies of those poor children and how much of a monster she was to now be using them as literal meat shields to save her own skin.

She squeezed her eyes closed, taking one deep breath after another. Everything about the room was still, there was no sound, no movement, no breeze. But quiet was good, quiet meant they were adequately hidden. Quiet meant…quiet meant space to think and thinking was bad. She wrapped her arms around her legs, pressing her forehead into her knees, shaking. This wasn’t real, she wasn’t here, this was a dream nothing but a horrible dream, she…she could feel herself dissociating again, the sharp sting of her amassed wounds only barely keeping her tethered to reality.

Roxy was coming. Roxy was there. Vanessa caught a glimpse of her with her arms outstretched to make up for her lack of sight yet persistent in her prowl, entering the room with slow but determined and weighty footsteps.

  “Sneak away, little coward…” she snarled, ears perked for the smallest of sounds. “You can’t hide forever. I WILL find you.”

Vanessa held her breath, Roxy was right there, mere feet from where she hid.

The wolf paused, flicking her head from side to side. “I know you’re here…”

The tiniest of whimpers sounded from the other side of the room, from where Gregory was hiding, and that was all Roxy needed to whip her head in that direction, grinning devilishly. “Found you. There’s nowhere to run, brat.”

  “No! The scream tore itself from Vanessa’s already-raw throat, drawing Roxy’s attention towards her. “Over here, you piece of shit!”

Roxy turned. “Confident, are we, officer?” She taunted. “I suppose I could catch you first. And if the brat is here, he can watch.”

But another sound drew all three of their attentions, fast, pounding steps sprinting down the hall towards them.

  Chica, was Vanessa’s first thought with a sinking heart. Monty didn’t have legs anymore, Moon preferred to either glide or skitter, and they were too loud to be Glitchtrap’s, it had to be Chica’s and they were dead—

But it wasn’t any of those.

It was Freddy who burst into the room with a growl, barely even hesitating as he took in the horrific scene before he grabbed Roxy’s arm and yanked her back, then punched her so hard the rest of the casing of her face shattered off and she crumpled, unmoving, onto the floor.

He froze, staring down at his paws and seeming almost shocked at himself. He whispered something that she didn’t quite catch, then shook his head, dispelling whatever was running through that computerised head of his. “Gregory! Vanessa!” He shouted anxiously. “Are you here? Are you hurt?”

  “Fr-e-eddy!” Gregory gasped, crawling out from his hiding place behind the bloody costume suit. “You— you’re here!” He sobbed.

In an instant Freddy was down on the floor, pulling the trembling child into his arms. “Oh Gregory… It is alright, I am here now, Roxy cannot harm you. Are you hurt? You are…” Freddy trailed off, holding Gregory at arms length as a blue light emitted from his eyes, scanning the child. “You are injured!” He gasped, and gingerly picked up the boy into his arms. “We must go, have you seen Vanessa?”

  “I-I’m here,” she wavered, crawling out from her own hiding spot. “I’m—”

She collapsed, body unable to take another step no matter how hard she tried. Everything felt dim, she wasn’t even sure Freddy was actually there. Was she hallucinating? No… she was dreaming, right? Yes, that’s right, this was a dream, all one big horrible dream.

Somebody said something, something about her? Asking her something? She couldn’t make it out, everything was muffled, like cotton had been stuffed inside her ears and head.

Something— somebody picked her up off the floor, the cold, tacky, rusty-brown floor she hadn’t even realised she had been laying face down into. It was large, gentle paws that picked her up, cradling her in the crook of an arm against a broad orange shoulder as easily as one might carry an infant. Freddy, she was up in Freddy’s arms. Through the tunnel that was her vision, she saw Gregory’s worried face staring back at her from where he sat tucked in Freddy’s other arm.

Freddy said something that she just barely registered as being “time to go.”

Then they were moving, she… thought so, at least. They must be, she could feel every thud of Freddy’s foot against the ground, the jostling aggravating her abused shoulder.

Then they were back in that office—the main one. The world was shaking…or was it her head that was spinning? No, the room, or wherever they were was definitely shaking. Black spots entered her vision. No… not black spots, streaks. Tendrils. Somebody yelled, maybe multiple somebodies, and then they were enveloped in those wires, hoisted up by that blobby mess of animatronics. Fury seem to radiate from it, yet somehow she felt as though that fury wasn’t directed towards them.

Vanessa had no clue where she was at that point, she couldn’t find it in herself to care for some reason. Nothing felt real. She was done, done running done fighting done thinking. She was simply along for the ride now, putting up no resistance towards wherever Freddy and this thing was taking them.

She was done, and she was fading.

When Vanessa came to again, she was in an elevator. Blissfully quiet except for some tinny garbled music playing through the speaker.

  “VANESSA!” Somebody shouted, and suddenly a pair of skinny arms wrapped themselves around her torso, a face burying into her side. “You’re awake! I thought— I thought—” Gregory blubbered.

  “Hey, little man,” she gave him a weak smile, lifting a hand to ruffle his hair. It felt disproportionately heavy. Her vision was still blurry, but she could see Freddy’s worried orange face hovering above her, registering that she was still being carried by the bear. “Where…how long was I…?”

  “Merely a couple minutes,” Freddy assured her. “That…wire creature dragged us out of the pit. We made it to the elevator and are heading back to the Pizzaplex proper. However…”

The lights flickered, and Vanessa realised just how much the elevator was shaking. Much more than what was usual for this old lift.

 “The creature is very agitated, it tunnelled out and I do not believe the building’s foundation is equipped for such a—”

  “You’re saying the Pizzaplex is collapsing.” Vanessa interrupted, alert now, the shaking of the elevator as it climbed only becoming that much more apparent. Her head was spinning, but she forced herself upright, shifting her body so that Freddy could hold her with only one arm again, and wrapped her arms around his neck. If she had to be carried—which the logical side of her recognized, no matter how much she would’ve wanted to insist that Freddy carry Gregory instead and she could run on her own—she refused to be dead weight for him at the very least.

Freddy used his other now-free arm to lift Gregory up, just as the elevator doors shuddered open.

Vanessa had never experienced an earthquake before, but she figured this wasn’t any less intense. The ground shook, a rumbling that jostled her very core. Dust filled the air, and deafening crumbling sounded from behind them. The sinkhole in the raceway was caving in.

Freddy didn’t run, he sprinted, bracing her and Gregory’s heads against his shoulders so they weren’t whipped around too much, away from the ground that was trying to swallow them whole.

They burst into the atrium. Lights flickered, chairs and photo booths and planters toppled over, ceiling tiles fell and shattered on the carpet, some they only narrowly avoided missing. Cracks splintered the walls, cutting through the vibrant murals lining the atrium.

In front of their eyes, they watched as the opulence and whimsy of the Pizzaplex turned to ruin.

Blindly, Vanessa reached out across Freddy’s chest to clutch Gregory’s hand, seeing her shock mirrored on his face. She gave it three squeezes.

There was still another elevator blocking them from escape. One thing she was certain of was that you should not use an elevator in a situation like this, but the Pizzaplex being the Pizzaplex there was no alternate stairway, or not one easily accessible.

Vanessa’s never been one to be afraid of heights, but she held her breath for the duration of that elevator trip, every little shudder and flicker of the lights sending a spike of panic through her.

At the bottom, the doors wouldn’t even open properly, Freddy had to kick and force their way out.

Everything was crumbling. One of the support pillars that lined the atrium toppled right in front of them, raining concrete down and filling the air with more gritty dust. Freddy cleared each flight of escalators with only two jumps each, and when he got to the bottom, he didn’t slow down, letting that momentum propel them to the doors. Too fast.

  “Freddy,” she started, panicked, “we’re gonna—”

Quickly Freddy shifted his hold on them, clutching them to his chest like he was squeezing them in one big bear hug. An arm came to solidly brace their heads against him.

  “Hang on!” Freddy shouted, still not slowing down. If anything he ran faster, and at the last second twisted his body so that he was back-on as he smashed into the doors, bursting straight through the windows with a flurry of shattered glass and landed on the pavement with a thud, keeping Vanessa and Gregory on top of him to shield them from the impact and the glass that rained down.

They gasped, coughing and choking as they laid there on Freddy’s chest. Vanessa squeezed her head out of the bear’s grasp enough to turn over and spit a mouthful of bloody saliva onto the ground, having bit her tongue during the impact. Her head was still spinning like they were moving.

  “Are you two okay?” Freddy asked seriously.

  “Y-Yeah,” Gregory gasped, breathing heavily. Vanessa nodded in assent as well. “Are you?”

  “Yes, I am fine,” he assured the boy, patting his head.

  “We…ruined your new casing,” Gregory pointed out weakly, as if that was their biggest problem at the moment.

  “That is the least of my concerns, superstar.” Freddy shifted upright into a sitting position, still keeping his arms securely around the two humans in a hug. “I am thankful you two are safe.”

They stayed like that for a minute. Finally safe, finally free, in each other's arms. The biting cold of the late-fall morning wind was nothing compared to the warmth and relief of each other’s embrace.

It was still dark out, the barest rays of green dawn cutting through the night. Somehow, that’s what made the least sense to Vanessa. That meant they’d been in there…four, five hours at most? It had felt like days. Happily painting Freddy’s casing together felt like weeks ago, not mere hours.

But speaking of dawn…

  “We have to go,” Vanessa murmured after a while, logic and urgency overriding her childish desire to stay there in the animatronic’s arms and bury her face in his chest and hide from the world. Reluctantly she wriggled out of his lap, breaking the hug. Her legs were wobbly, but she could stand. Good, because she still needed to drive.

Already sirens could be heard faintly in the distance, only proving her point. She winced. “…Before the police come along and blame us for this.”

Chapter Text

Vanessa drove them home from the Pizzaplex. Or, she must have, because they were back home now, but she truthfully couldn’t remember the drive back at all.

Maybe that should’ve worried her—she was the driver after all.

Her perception of the world around her felt jumpy, a bit like a broken DVD recording—abruptly cutting from one thing to the next with little to no recollection of the inbetween. Not in the way the virus had blocked her memories when it took over, this more just felt… hazy.

She had a vague recollection of helping Freddy carry the generator into the garage, and then came the issue of their injuries. She couldn’t take them to the hospital—that fact at least was clear in her head. When you had a foster kid, even the tiniest bump or scrape had to be reported. But reporting injuries like these would prompt an investigation, an investigation which they had no feasible explanation to excuse away these injuries, and evasiveness would undoubtedly lead to him being taken from here care…

So, patching them up at home it was.

At some point Gregory had picked up a filthy cloth which he had been pressing against the wound on his cheek to staunch the blood still seeping out. She couldn't help but cringe upon realising this, and hoped to god the kid had his Tetanus shot.

It clearly needed stitches, so after cleaning his face up the best she could with soapy water and isopropyl alcohol, got him to sit in Freddy’s lap for the procedure. She didn’t have any anaesthetic or numbing cream of any of that fancy stuff doctor’s used, she simply handed him some ibuprofen and warned him that it was going to suck but that it needed to be done.

He took the painkillers without complaint. Maybe that should’ve worried her too, the fact that even with his aversion to any and all kinds of drugs he didn’t hesitate to take these. It said a lot about how much pain he must have been in.

It took eighteen stitches. The wound was about three inches long and jagged, spanning from his jaw to the corner of his nose. Gregory winced and whimpered and hissed with every stitch and Freddy had to restrain his arms and hold his head after he involuntarily slapped her hand away at the first stitch and to keep him from jerking his head away and it was fucking heartbreaking to have to physically restrain him like that and Vanessa was sure this interaction probably set his trust in them backwards significantly, not to mention that she herself had to pause multiple times because her hands were shaking too damn badly to hold to the needle properly and the entire ordeal was utterly and absolutely horrible for the three of them. But eventually she got it done, and could snip the thread and cover the fresh line of wobbly stitches with a bandage.

After that she just had to tend to the comparatively shallow cuts on his knees and hands from the seams in the vents, and a few other assorted scuffs from goodness-only-knew where. None of them needed stitches thankfully, only a bit of cleaning and bandaging which was a walk in the park after having to deal with the gash on his face.

It wasn’t until Freddy physically halted her while she was in the process of cleaning up the medical supplies that she was reminded of her own injuries: the scrape from Roxy on her bicep, the cuts on her knees and hands from the vents, matching Gregory’s; and, of course, the bruises on her wrists, ankles, and neck from the wires. Oh, and her throbbing shoulder. Would it be ridiculous if she said she’d almost forgotten about them?

That probably should have really worried her, too.

But in any case she dealt with them. Or dealt with them as best as she could.

Then came their next big issue to contend with. Routine check-ins. They’d had their last visit from the social worker just a couple days ago, that meant that they had nearly a full month before the next. Nearly a full month for their injuries to heal enough to not arouse suspicion.

Did that make her a horrible person, and a horrible foster parent, to already be scheming in her head how to not incriminate herself to the goddamn CPS?

Probably.

Strangely, though, she couldn’t find it in herself to particularly care about whether it made her a horrible person or not.

Yet another thing that probably should have worried her.

None of them knew what to do now—what were you supposed to do after something like that? She needed to… make breakfast? It was morning, she was pretty sure, and Gregory hadn’t eaten since last night. She needed to make sure he was okay, too. Okay emotionally; he must’ve been terrified. Be terrified still. And she probably should set up Freddy’s new room/charging corner…

  “Vanessa,” Freddy said suddenly, gently grabbing her shoulders to steady her and effectively pulling her out of ruminating. “You are injured, and undoubtedly exhausted. Rest, and let me take care of you.”

No, that wasn’t right. She was the adult here. She needed to be responsible. In charge. She was fine, right?

Well, okay, objectively she wasn’t fine, but she was still standing, and that was good enough. It had to be good enough.

  “I’m fine,” she muttered.

And as if the universe was taunting her, her body chose that moment to be overcome with a wave of bone-deep fatigue, Freddy’s paws on her shoulder being the only thing keeping her standing upright still.

She looked over towards the sofa, where Gregory was curled up under a blanket with one of his newly-stolen Freddy plushies tucked under his arm, staring into space. He looked, to put it simply, shellshocked. She should be—needed to be—there and strong for him.

Vanessa had hated being a child, being small and weak and helpless, yet in that moment there was a small part of her that yearned to be in his position, to be a child again and have it be the job of others to watch over and protect her. To not have to deal with anything. To bury her head under the covers and not face the world for a while. 

She looked up at the bear, and he looked back at her. There was that almost… paternal feeling in his expression again.

…

Maybe… maybe she could let Freddy take over for a while.

So she simply nodded, before shrugging off his paws and wordlessly limped towards her room, closing the door behind her and with it shutting out the world and her responsibilities.

They had almost died. Vanessa had come face-to-face with animatronic monstrosities and the gorey remains of her victims. She had thought, for those nightmarish few minutes in those vents, that she had lost Gregory and it’d been all her fault. What they had just experienced was unimaginable, worse than any horror movie. She should be a shaking, inconsolable mess. She should feel selfish for abandoning Freddy and Gregory like this.

She should be, at least, a little worried about what this meant for them going forwards, and what new rabbit hole she’d just uncovered.

But no, she wasn’t worried. In fact, she didn’t feel much of anything at all.

And maybe that’s what should’ve worried her the most.

She crawled into her bed, still in the filthy clothing she had worn since last night, and threw the covers over her head. That was a problem for future Vanessa. She wanted to feel nothing, be nothing for a little while.

Time flowed together incomprehensibly. She didn’t exactly sleep, but she wasn’t quite what you’d call being awake either. It was a daze, pierced only by the occasional disturbance creating moments of lucidity.

Maybe the most prominent moment in this was when she drifted back to the present long enough to find Gregory tugging her down to his level, grabbing her face and studying her eyes, his face twisted in concern. He seemed to be looking for something. Whatever it was, he seemed to find it. Or… not find it? Whatever the preferred outcome was, as he nodded, then asked her something. Well, he appeared to ask her something, she could see his lips move but all she could hear was a buzz in her ears like white noise. So she simply smiled at him, that was an appropriate response to most interactions, right?

She drifted away again after that.

  “EARTHQUAKE SHAKES PIZZAPLEX!”

It’s all the news was talking about. Or so Luis had said in a message to her, linking an article. “Did you hear about this???” Was what he had texted. She didn’t bother to read it… or respond to him, now that she thought about it.

Some time had passed now since they’d gotten home. A day? Two? Somehow, she couldn’t really tell.

Blearily, she rolled over—rolled over in her bed that she’d barely even left since—and checked the date on her phone. It took her a solid ten seconds to even truly see the little numbers on the screen, let alone process what they meant. Those arbitrary numbers that would indicate where in the perpetual cycle of the solar system they sat. What a strange, complex system.

Almost as complicated a system as the human body. All those components, right down to the minuscule cells, worked together to create—or rather just sustain?—this incomprehensible thing called life. All the bones and tendons, all the nerves and organs, and veins flowing with blood into the heart. A heart that, despite all odds, was still beating. A beating heart was maybe the definitive indicator of life. And if she concentrated, she could feel her own heart incessantly drumming away inside of her chest.

So why didn’t she feel alive?

Vanessa wasn’t dumb, she knew what dissociation was and this was far from the first time she’d ever experienced it. When things got bad she’d… go away for a little while, into the farthest corner of her head where she liked to think even Glitchtrap couldn’t touch her. That was fine—maybe not the healthiest, yeah, but it worked and she’d always been able to bring herself back to reality after a bit.

Now, even the persistent knowledge that she needed to get up and take care of her damn kid and god how pathetic was she wasn’t enough to coax herself out of her own head.

It’s not that she neglected her responsibilities entirely. She still… got out of bed to use the bathroom, and mustered up the strength to take a shower—which she kinda spaced out again in the middle of, only coming back down to earth when the water turned cold—and cooked food for Gregory and all that stuff. And maybe half of that was only because Freddy or Gregory reminded her, but… that was fine, she was trying, right? Everything was fine.

She snorted. Yeah right, who was she kidding. How pathetic was she.

She winced. No…nope, too much thinking. Time to go away again.

She pictured a little hidey-hole like a closet it was more like a cell in her head. And it had a door, a door with a lock and she had the key to lock herself inside and be safe from everything outside.

If she was being honest with herself, it was unsettlingly similar to the way she used to compartmentalise Glitchtrap in her head, except this time she was metaphorically locking herself away, where nothing could hurt her.

And she couldn’t hurt anything.

It was easier, this way. Even the inability to feel like a real person entirely wasn’t scary in that moment, because she also felt unable to be scared. She looked down at her hands that were resting in her lap, her pale hands covered in faded scars and the more recent scabs and bandages. They didn’t feel like they belong to her, then again, who was her? Sluggishly, she flexes them. Still nope. Despite moving at her command, they didn’t feel real. Nothing did, except for the little space she had created for herself and a faint but incessant sound of static filling her ears.

The buzzing in her head got louder suddenly. She felt vaguely annoyed at that, at this external disturbance interrupting her frail tranquillity. Why was this happening?

Then something cut through the nothingness, a weight resting on her shoulder. Somebody touching her.

Everything around her sharpened suddenly, sharpened like knives and needles and nails digging into her flesh and it hurt and all she wanted to do was drift even farther away but the burning weight on her shoulder kept her unwillingly tethered. Which, she still didn’t know what was touching her and oh god wasn’t that terrifying. She snapped her head up, neck protesting as she did, making her wonder just how long she’d been in that same position staring down at her lap for.

A blob of orange and cream and blue entered her vision. It felt vaguely familiar, not that she could pinpoint why in that moment. Then the buzzing turned into words, though not ones she felt she could understand.

She blinked once, twice, trying to focus on what was present and in front of her. The blob coalesced into something tangible, something real. Freddy.

  “—essa, can you hear me?” The worry in the robot’s voice sliced through the fog in her skull, but it still took her a long moment to process what those words meant, and even longer to remember that she was supposed to respond.

  “…Fred-d—” She began weakly, but dissolved into a fit of crackly coughs, mouth and throat feeling more dry than the arid landscapes of Utah. When was the last time she’d drank water again?

Freddy widened his eyes—he must have come up with the answer to her internal question on his own—and before she knew it a bottle of water was being held up to her parched lips, having seemingly been grabbed from her nightstand. She had forgotten it was even there, sitting next to an untouched bowl of soup she thinks Gregory had brought to her… earlier that day? Yesterday?

She let the bear practically bottle feed the water to her, the tepid liquid sliding down her throat and alleviating the sandpapery feel of her mouth.

  “Are you feeling quite alright, Vanessa? You have not gotten out of bed today.” Freddy stated as he set the half-empty bottle back on the nightstand.

Before she could think up a reply a blue light emitted from his eyes, washing over her.

  “Scan complete. Beyond your injuries, you have no signs of physical illness, at least not according to my programmed data.”

  “I…” Vanessa didn’t really know how to explain, let alone justify herself to him. There was no excuse for her being so selfish and weak. Freddy said she’d been in bed all day. “I was… tired,” she said lamely.

  “You must have been, it is nearly three o’clock, Gregory will be home from school soon.”

  “School?” She blinked, trying to process that. It didn’t make any sense. School was so mundane and commonplace and foreign in comparison to everything that was going on, not even to mention the fact that Gregory was still recovering. “Why’d he go to school? He didn’t need to yet…”

  “With all due respect, Vanessa, how was he supposed to know he did not need to go to school if you did not tell him? Freddy said gently. But to her ears it sounded like an accusation of her incompetence. “I do not believe you have called the office to indicate that he is staying home either. In any case, he said he wanted to see his friends again, and did not wish to fall any more behind on his schoolwork after taking so many days off for his illness.”

It took a moment to comprehend that, and when she did, she swallowed thickly as a new, uncomfortable thought occurred to her. “Freddy, what… day is it…?” She asked hesitantly.

The bear looked at her strangely. “It is 2:47 pm on Wednesday. Are you certain you are not sick?”

   Wednesday. The word rang inside of her head. They’d got home on Sunday.

That meant she’d been like this for three days.

  “Oh god…” She buried her face in her hands, heart sinking. “I’m fine, I’m fine, I’ll… get up soon I just need… a little more time and I’ll be ready,” she mumbled nonsensically.

  “If you are fine, then why would you need more time?” Freddy countered. He towered over her he was tall she didn’t like feeling small and vulnerable like a child again. “If you are feeling unwell, I understand that and you do not need to pretend otherwise. But Gregory needs you, Vanessa. He is frightened, as we all are, at what has transpired, and I believe he could benefit from your support. In fact, I believe it would be good for you, too.”

  See? Even Freddy agrees.

Like an elastic band, twisting and tightening within her chest—a band born out of guilt, maybe?—finally pulled too taut and, at those words, snapped.

  “God, Freddy, you think I don’t know that?!” She burst, the cracking of her underused voice not tempering her anger. “I know I’m being pathetic and useless and neglectful and— and whatever else. But I’m the adult here, remember? You’re not my dad, you’re just a robot you don’t know anything about what I’m going through so don’t fucking tell me what I’m supposed to do!”

She didn’t mean those words, she didn’t even know why she said them. Maybe a small part of her wanted to hurt him like she was hurting. She couldn’t even look at Freddy after the words left her lips, but she could easily imagine the hurt and disappointment that must’ve shown on his face in those couple seconds of potent silence following her outburst.

Yet she couldn’t find it in herself to muster up an apology, not lifting her gaze from her lap even as she heard the creaking of the animatronic straightening up, and the weighty steps of him leaving the room.

And everything was quiet again.

   Fuck. Of course the first bit of emotion she showed after dissociating was anger. It had always been the easiest emotion for her. It came quickly, brightly, and fizzled out just as quick as it came.

Always her first instinct.

Her temper was something she thought she’d been getting under control. Obviously not.

Just another thing she couldn’t do right.

Vanessa wanted to sink into her mattress, the floor, back into the quietest, farthest depths of her mind just so that she wouldn’t have to feel again. Before that could happen, she bit down on her bottom lip, already chapped from lack of hydration and quickly split open a crack. Pain blossomed, as did the metallic tang of a bubble of blood seeping into her mouth. The sting was good, intentional. The pain would force her to stay present.

All she wanted to do was dissociate again, but she didn’t deserve even that, she deserved to feel every bit of the guilt her actions wrought. She deserved to hurt like Freddy was. Like Gregory was.

Like every person who had ever had the misfortune of encountering her.

She bit down harder, hands clamped over her ears and eyes screwed shut. She couldn’t take it any longer, but what “it” was she did not even know.

Everything, the doubt the fear the despair and the self-hatred swirled together like a cyclone inside her head. Breathing felt like a monumental task, her breaths becoming shallow and desperate, and she knew she was on the cusp of a full-blown panic attack. 

This went on for what felt like an eternity, she couldn’t hear anything besides that ringing in her ears but it sounded more like crashing waves and she was caught in the centre of a whirlpool and waves were swallowing her she couldn’t breathe she was drowning she was—

Something touched her again.

Caught in the midst of her panic, she couldn’t tell friend from foe, threat from comfort, and at this abrupt intrusion, she didn’t just flinch, she practically leapt, fight or flight response kicking in.

Like a cornered animal, she scrambled backwards over her mussed bedding, back slamming against her headboard and arms coming up to shield herself from whatever attacker was present

A whole second passed of nothing. Then two, then three. Cautiously, she lowered her arms and dared to peak over at what had touched her.

It was Freddy. Freddy was back. That didn’t make sense, she’d just yelled at him, why was he back? Had he come to scold her? She deserved it, after all. But his face held a shocked, and perhaps a slightly concerned expression, and in his hands he was holding—

Vanessa wasn’t a robot like him, but at that moment she truly felt like she bluescreened, having to do a double-take.

Because he was holding a fucking sandwich.

Ham and swiss, cut diagonally and resting on a dinner plate. There was even a goddamn decorative toothpick stuck into the pieces.

If nothing else, the absurdity of the situation served to shock her the rest of the way back to earth.

They simply stared at each other for a moment, as Vanessa felt her cheeks grow warm in shame from her own behaviour. She watched as his eyes flicked to the lower part of her face.

  “You are bleeding,” he stated gently the fact that she was already well aware of, and swiftly turned to rest the plate on her end table, grabbing a tissue from the nearby box instead. “May I?”

She didn’t have the energy to do anything except nod, scooting forwards so she was within his reach.

He gingerly tilted her head up with one paw and with the tissue in the other dabbed at her bloody lip.

She averted her eyes as she let Freddy pretty much manhandle her like she was a child. The unfortunate irony of the situation considering her last words to the bear didn’t escape her.

His eyebrows were drawn in concern and concentration as he wiped away the blood on her lip and chin. He didn’t mention or ask how the wounds had formed so suddenly, so either he didn’t see her inflict them herself or he was being deliberately obtuse. Either way, she was glad to not have to face that conversation right then.

  “Why the sandwich?” She asked in a quiet, almost emotionless tone as Freddy finished up and tossed the tissue away. They weren’t… the best first words to come out of her mouth, before even an apology or a thanks. Maybe it was because such a mundane topic was infinitely easier to approach than admitting to her own fuck-ups and giving the animatronic the apology he deserved. That, and... well, she was genuinely curious.

  “It had occurred to me that it has been many hours, perhaps days, since your last proper meal. Chica, as I am sure you know, gets quite miserable when she has not eaten in a while. So I imagine that hunger’s effect on humans who actually require the nutrition that sustenance brings must be even worse,” he explained, holding out the plate to her.

  “Are you saying that I’m acting irrational because I’m hungry?” Vanessa replied with a raised brow, mildly appalled at his audacity. Yet she took the plate anyway.

  “I am not saying that,” Freddy assured quickly, before adding, “Although I would not deny it may be a contributing factor.”

She hated that he was probably right.

The sandwich wasn’t bad by any means, if anything it was probably quite good, but to her it was like cardboard in her mouth as she took tiny nibbles. Her stomach seemed to appreciate it at the very least, working to alleviate a hunger she hadn’t even noticed.

It was a little uncomfortable to have Freddy just… staring at her while she ate, but she couldn’t blame him either for wanting to make sure she actually consumed it.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered eventually in-between bites, breaking the somewhat awkward silence that had fallen between them. “I didn’t mean it. Any of it. You’ve been nothing but kind and patient with me and… I know I don’t deserve any of it, but I—”

  “Vanessa,” he cut her off, kneeling down in front of her so he wasn’t quite so tall and imposing and they were closer to eye level with each other. “How are you feeling?”

She stared at him in confusion, the question seeming highly redundant. “I… I already told you?” She replied slowly. “I’m not sick.”

  “I do not mean physically.”

He waited for his meaning to sink in, and when it did, she huffed lightly, rolling her eyes. “Does it matter? I’m an adult, I’m supposed to be the strong one. You want the truth? Yeah, I’m fucking terrified, Freddy,” she admitted harshly. “But Gregory must be, too. I swore I would keep him safe, and look how that turned out! I messed up enough already, I need to be better. I need to be strong. I can’t show how scared I am in front of him, it’ll just make everything worse. Because if I’m not strong, then… then…” she trailed off, the unspoken ending to that sentence catching in her throat.

   Then what good am I to anyone?

  “Hm,” was all Freddy said after she finished her rant. He stared at her like he was analysing her, and Vanessa’s skin prickled in sudden shame and self-consciousness.

  “While I cannot say I know exactly what you are going through… I believe I have identified the problem,” he said finally, as if her tangled emotions were nothing but a programming bug that needed to be diagnosed. “You do realise that you are deserving of comfort and support just as much as Gregory is, no? I speak for him too when I say we do not blame you for what happened at the Pizzaplex, the only one who should hold that blame are the ones who hurt you two. You have every right to be scared after what you just went through. And while yes, you may technically be an adult, that is ultimately an arbitrary title, and twenty-four is not that old. Just a quarter of your average life-span. You are still young in the grand scheme of things.”

  “Big words coming from a guy constructed not even six years ago,” she retorted weakly. Joking was easier than admitting the truth in his words. "If anything, you're the baby of the family.”

She didn’t happen to notice her slip-up of this being the first time she’d called them a family out loud, even in a joking context.

  “I suppose I cannot argue with that,” Freddy chuckled. If she hadn’t been so out of it, perhaps she would’ve also noticed the way his eyes seemed to light up after her words. “But my point still stands: adult or not, you are allowed to be scared.” He gently rested a large paw onto her knee, addressing her earnestly. “You are allowed to be angry, upset, hurt, and anything else you might be feeling, and I also know that Gregory would not think any less of you for that. He does not need you at your best, he needs you, and I believe you need him. We need the comfort one another brings after the horrible experience we went through. And…” He gave her knee a light squeeze. “If you want me to be truthful as well, it… hurts me to see you suffer alone like this, Vanessa.”

She stayed quiet after he finished talking, and once again she was left baffled by this robot’s ability to comprehend and express emotion. It was a true testament to the technological marvel of his programming and AI. But honestly, at that point calling it artificial intelligence seemed like an insult. It was as real and important as any flesh and blood being’s. She had long since started perceiving him as a “person” rather than an “object”, and times like this simply reinforced why. She wasn’t sure when that switch had been flipped in her head; perhaps it was even as far back as that week with just him before Gregory moved in, and the support and wisdom that he had brought even then.

But back to the point at hand. Freddy… pretty much hit the nail on the head when it came to her, as he put it, “problem.” It was discomforting, to say the least, to have her tangled emotions and insecurities spelled out like that, and brought with it a fair share of embarrassment. It was a hard pill to swallow, and she wasn’t sure if she could get herself to fully believe it just yet. But it was a start towards picking the pieces of herself up off ground, and one that she appreciated, however uncomfortable it made her.

  “…I’ve been an idiot, haven’t I?” She sighed ruefully, staring down at her half-eaten sandwich. 

  “Not an idiot,” Freddy immediately assured, gently shaking his head. “You have been hurting, there’s a difference. But, now you know where you should go from here.”

She nodded, before handing the plate back to him. She’d eaten a little over half and that was all she could stomach at the moment. But it was better than nothing. “Thank you, Freddy,” she murmured sincerely. It wasn’t just a “thanks” for the food, it was for his patience, for his compassion, his wisdom, for taking care of Gregory when she failed to, and so much more. “Could I… take a nap now?” She added sheepishly.

It may have seemed like an abrupt request, but it wasn’t her making another excuse to avoid her responsibilities; she was genuinely exhausted, a fatigue that was making itself known now that she had been calmed and fed. Because for all the time she had been spending in her bed the past few days, very few of those hours were spent actually sleeping, and even fewer not pierced by visions of bloody bodies or skeletal robots or glitchy figures.

  “Of course,” he replied warmly. After a second of hesitation he used his free paw to ever so lightly pat the top of her head, before straightening up and collecting the other couple dishes in her room to bring them out to the kitchen. “Rest well.” He paused right before exiting the room, turning back to her. “And please, Vanessa… do take my words into consideration? Gregory misses you. We miss you.”

She stared at his bulky frame in the doorway, pressure building in her throat. “Yeah,” she just barely whispered, voice choked with sudden emotion as she burrowed herself into her blankets. “Yeah, I will.” The words were so quiet she wasn’t sure if Freddy even heard her.

The lights dimmed from the door being closed and the room was casted in a comfortable level of darkness. Already, she could feel sleep tugging at her.

Vanessa's words weren’t just more empty promises, she meant it. She would do better. For his, for Gregory’s… for everyone’s sake. There were discussions that needed to be had, questions that needed to be answered, but before any of that could happen, she needed sleep. Not only because her physical body was pratically demanding it, but as a mental reset, too.

Maybe then she'd be ready to face the music, so to speak.

And as she drifted off, her last thought was that she hoped it wouldn't end up being a dirge.

Chapter Text

Gregory wasn’t doing good. And could you blame him? They’d almost died. Multiple times! It’s not that he was a stranger to near-death experiences, but this was probably the closest he’d ever gotten, closer than even his first night trapped at the Pizzaplex with Vanny hunting him.

And Vanessa, he’d… he’d never seen her look so terrified. She hadn’t explained anything, but he was able to connect the dots. That weird endo thingy was somehow connected to—or was— the virus that had infected her and Freddy.

And then there were the Glamrocks. They looked horrible and they were pissed at him and then there was the wire-animatronic-monster-thing and the room full of blood he and Vanessa had hid in and— and—

It was too much to process. He tried to take a couple deep breaths, running his fingers along the soft textured hem of the blanket he was wrapped in to remind himself that he was safe and they were home and they were okay.

But it wasn’t okay, that was the problem. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise, it absolutely wasn’t.

But perhaps, in all of this, what scared him the most wasn’t furious robots or brushes with death—although those were undeniably terrifying—it was Vanessa.

She wasn’t acting right. She’d hardly said a word when she’d driven them home—heck, Gregory had been shocked that she’d been well enough to drive in the first place.

Maybe she wasn’t.

Then she’d hardly said anything when smuggling Freddy inside, or when helping him with his wounds beyond the occasional instruction to keep still or turn his head or her repeated apologies during the stitching process.

They couldn’t go to the hospital, that’s one thing Vanessa had made clear. They had no feasible excuse for their injuries, and she didn’t want to risk the doctors taking their evasiveness as her covering something up, which could lead to Gregory being removed from her care and he’d have to leave her and Freddy and go back to the foster system and—

   Shut up, he scolded himself internally. You’re fine, remember?

Anyways, now it was three days later, and he'd barely seen Vanessa. He just… didn’t understand why she was avoiding him like that. He was ecstatic to have Freddy back with a body, don’t get him wrong, but he wanted to be with them both.

It was unlikely, but his first thought was “what if she’d been put back under the virus’s influence after all?” Because the way she was acting was… almost robotic. More so than Freddy who was, y’know, a literal robot.

So just to be sure, on one of the times she was actually out of her room he’d tugged her down to his level and grabbed her face, peering into her eyes and ignoring the crawling sensation under his skin that eye contact always gave him.

They seemed dull, but were still decisively green; no traces of purple. So… unless that was no longer an indicator, it couldn’t be the virus.

And even then she hadn’t said anything! Just stared back at him blankly before smiling at him and he could tell the smile was fake as hell and he hated it when adults gave him those fake smiles and Vanessa had been the one adult who didn’t fake it but here she was. It…

It hurt him. That was the simple truth. Because he was already struggling to process what they’d gone through, struggling to cope with the dread and terror that had settled in his stomach and never left, struggling to cope with the pain his injuries brought, and now one of the people he trusted most in the entire world seemed to be avoiding him.

And he couldn’t figure out why, why it was almost like a switch had been flipped. Because she wasn’t possessed, her injuries hadn’t left her completely bedridden because she had gotten up now and then, and she wasn’t sick—Freddy had said that she wasn’t—which could only leave one possible explanation, one that had been growing in the back of his head for days until he was entirely convinced of it.

That it was his fault. That she was purposely avoiding him. That he’d gotten too comfortable and well and truly fucked up.

Because in retrospect, he’d been a pain in the ass recently. Sure, Vanessa was more patient than most adults, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have her limit. He’d gotten in trouble at school, he was a handful to the point where she had to take time off work and was losing sleep when he was sick, he’d begged to be allowed to come to the Pizzaplex after she’d told him no. Then at the Pizzaplex, he’d upset her by bringing a knife, didn’t listen when she’d wanted him to stick with Freddy, got himself injured when he stupidly tried to rush in and “save” her, and almost gotten both of them ripped to shreds by Roxy when he’d whimpered like a baby—after Vanessa had explicitly told him to not make a peep.

It was one fuck-up after another for him, and the more he tumbled these thoughts over in his head, the more he realised what had happened at the Pizzaplex was his fault too.

Because maybe if he had stayed home like Vanessa had wanted, she wouldn’t have gone down into the sinkhole because she wouldn’t want to leave him alone with a sitter for so long. Or maybe if he wasn’t there she would’ve taken Freddy with her and their combined strength would’ve been enough to handle to situation, or he would’ve talked her out of going down their altogether, or—

He swallowed back the whine rising in his throat, pressing his face into Freddy’s chest which he was currently lying against to muffle any sounds from escaping his mouth. 

That was another thing, ever since they’d gotten home, Gregory had been unable to sleep in his own bed. The first night he’d tossed and turned for hours until he was so sleep deprived tears started streaming down his face and he eventually identified the cause of his distress to be the lack of Freddy’s head on its usual spot on his nightstand. Which was dumb, because with his eyes closed there was no logical difference between Freddy being there or not, but it didn’t stop the horrible feeling of paranoia and loneliness. So in the middle of the night he’d crept out of bed, wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, and pattered down the hall to the garage where Freddy’s new makeshift charging station/room was. Part of him had felt like a baby, but the other part of him didn’t care if he was a baby because he wanted his da— Freddy. He tried the floor first, but that was too cold and uncomfortable so eventually he’d mustered up the courage to crawl into Freddy’s lap. He’d hoped to not wake him, but of course he wasn’t so lucky.

Yet Freddy had welcomed him with open arms and warmth, not seeming to care that his charge cycle had been interrupted. He’d held Gregory close and talked to him about anything, about why he was awake and what was bothering him and even random lighthearted anecdotes until the boy’s eyes finally drooped shut.

It became their routine, for the past couple nights Gregory would creep down into the garage to sleep on Freddy’s lap, wrapped up in both a blanket and the bear’s strong arms. It kept the nightmares away, and Freddy claimed it helped ease his mind, too. So Gregory didn’t feel quite so guilty about it.

But this night even the rhythmic whirr of the animatronic’s internal mechanisms that almost seemed to mimic breathing wasn’t enough to soothe him. His mind just couldn’t stop ruminating on Vanessa and his own mistakes. Maybe it was lateness of the hour, or anxiety, or a mixture of everything that contributed to his irrationality, because at that moment there wasn't a doubt in his mind that he’d upset Vanessa, that she’d gotten tired of him.

That this was just like any other foster home after all and it was only a matter of time before he was sent away again.

He’d even asked Freddy earlier that day if he thought Vanessa was upset at him, and he’d assured him that she wasn’t, but he still couldn’t entirely believe that.

And now, he just felt… lost. Alone. He needed answers. Vanessa had told him back when he first moved in that he could come talk to her at any time, so… surely that still applied, right? At the very least, he couldn’t see her getting angry at him for literally following her own instructions.

He needed to know, know exactly what he’d done wrong and how he could make it up to her. The blunt truth, however painful, would be better than this agonising silent treatment.

So with his mind made up, he slipped out of Freddy’s arms, out of the garage, and tiptoed down the dark hallway, mindful to avoid the floorboards that had a tendency to creak. Just outside of Vanessa’s door he paused, apprehension overtaking the resolve he’d had just a moment ago.

He couldn’t hear a sound from the other side; she was probably asleep. He didn’t want to bother her, didn’t want to be more of a nuisance than he already was. But stronger than that was this… almost childish yearning in his chest to just see her. Like he was a kid knocking on their parent’s door seeking comfort after a bad dream. Which really didn’t make sense, because he was still convinced she was mad at him.

Those two sides of himself momentarily warred with each other, but the “childish” side won out. Before he could second guess himself, he wrapped his hands around the handle and slowly pushed open the door.

He’d expected to find the room dark and Vanessa under the covers fast asleep, as it was very late into the night. Instead, though, the room was basked in a soft glow from her lamp, and she was very much awake and sitting on the edge of her bed, hands fidgeting in her lap and gaze trained aimlessly out the window. She turned her head at his entrance, jumping a little.

  “G…Gregory?” She rasped, and he could see the surprise on her exhausted face, before she schooled both it and her voice into something more gentle and put-together. “Hey… what are you doing up? Is something the matter?”

  “I…” Gregory began awkwardly, swallowing the lump rising in his throat. He’d been fighting back tears for a while now, and just hearing her voice again was enough to set him off. His face 

crumpled, shoulders shaking as he tried to keep at least a shred of composure. Breathing deeply, he finally managed to choke out the words that had been clouding his mind. “Are you mad at me?

  “Are you mad at me?”

Those quiet words from the boy were filled with so much fear, distress, and worst of all, genuine conviction.

  “What?” Vanessa breathed, utterly taken-aback. She’d expected that he’d come to her because he had a nightmare, or his wounds were bothering him, or he wanted to know why she had been essentially MIA in this house. This was maybe the last thing she would’ve guessed, because it was so… foreign to any way she actually viewed him.

Even with his face hidden from her view, he could see the apprehension radiating from every part of his body, something maybe only she would have been able to notice in the first place, being so familiar with his body language. From the way he stood, hunched in on himself; the way his shoulders shook ever so slightly, the rapid rise and fall of his chest meaning that he was breathing fast, trying to keep it together; and hands wringing the hem of his pj shirt through his fingers in a self-soothing motion. Heck, even the fact that he was here in the first place with his aversion to “bothering” people.

Every aspect spelt distress, and knew she had to act fast to quell this unexplainable fear he’d adopted. “ No. Buddy… hey, come here.” She patted the spot onto the bed next to her. “Talk to me. Why do you think I’d be mad at you?” She couldn’t keep the incredulity from slipping into her tone.

To her relief, he obliged, stepping over and perching himself on the very edge of the mattress. His whole body was tense, and he kept his face turned down and angled away from her. There was a minute of silence before he found his voice again. “You’ve been avoiding me?” It was a statement, but one he pitched up at the end like it was a question and Vanessa’s heart sank because fuck, of course he’d assume she’d been avoiding him. She pretty much had, though not for the reasons he assumed. But he continued on before she could formulate an apt response. “A-And I don’t blame you, because I know I’ve been a handful recently so you have every right to be mad at me. ‘Specially ‘cause I didn’t listen to you at the Pizzaplex and that’s the reason we got hurt, and even before that I was bad and I wasn’t listening to you and I got in trouble at school and I was difficult for you when I was sick s-so you have every right to be upset with me—” The words kept tumbling out, getting more and more shaky and incoherent as he went, like he was desperately holding back tears. “—but I want to know what I can do to make it up to you so you…so you’re not mad at me anymore.”

He kept fidgeting with his hem as he said this, and now that he was finished, stood with a disposition like that of a criminal awaiting his sentence. And Vanessa… She could only sit there looking at him in shock.

He listed out these things that she had barely even thought twice about as if they were crimes. Things that had been so inconsequential to her, things that were just par for the course when it kids and caring for them! And that was maybe the crux of it. To him, acting like the kid that he was something to be sorry for.

Despite how hard she tried, despite how much progress they had made over the past couple months, the fact of the matter his trauma was never going to go away so easily. These notions had been baked into his very core from a young age, so was it really a wonder that this was what his mind would jump to?

But it wasn’t that that really filled Vanessa with despair—however bad it was. It was the realisation that, out of everything they’d endured recently, the plethora of new trauma that came with their latest Pizzaplex visit… this was what was keeping him awake at 2:00 in the morning. Why he finally mustered up the courage to seek her out.

The idea of her being upset at him scared him more than anything that happened at the Pizzaplex.

And that… was when Vanessa truly realised how much she fucked up.

  “Gregory,” she whispered shakily, trying to keep her emotions in check, “can you look at me?”

He did, eyes glistening in the lamp light of her room from unshed tears. Wordlessly she held out her arms, letting him make the choice.

He hesitated, but scooted forwards into her reach where she wasted no time in wrapping him into a hug. “Hey… hey, bud— Gregory, listen to me. That’s not— I’m not mad, or upset or disappointed o-or whatever else you might be thinking. I don’t care about all those things, I…the only things that matter to me is that you are happy and healthy, alright? You’ve done nothing that you need to apologise for.”

  “Then why? ” He insisted, face pressed to her shoulder. “Why were you avoiding me?” Every rattling breath he took she could feel, and she wasn’t sure her own breathing was much smoother.

  “Because…” She didn’t even know how to begin articulating it. She’d spent a lot of time self-reflecting that evening actually, after waking up from her nap (and no, she wasn’t using that as an excuse to delay having to go out and face Gregory, that’d be silly–). Eventually, though, in addition to everything she realised before… she came to the realisation that some small, subconscious, ugly part of her had been locking herself away intentionally, as a punishment. Not for Gregory, no. A punishment for her.

Because she felt she didn’t deserve the comfort and light that the child’s presence brought her.

She said none of this, of course, finally settling on a quiet and vague “I was… scared.”

He tilted his head to look at her, face scrunched in confusion. “Of what, me?”

  “No,” she tried for a light laugh, but her heart wasn't in it and it came out as more of a sigh. “Of just about everything else, though. And… I didn’t know how to deal with it. I still don’t. But I thought that if you saw me like that, it would make everything worse. I wanted to be strong for you, and… I couldn’t. So I decided it would be better to hide away until I could be again.” She sighed again. “…I can see now that that was pretty stupid of me, huh?”

  “Yes,” he wasted no time in agreeing with her. “You are stupid.”

She snorted softly. “Thank you.”

Silence fell between them as Vanessa held the child in her arms. The moment was long enough that she briefly wondered if he had fallen asleep, until he suddenly piped up again, wriggling out of her hold.

  “…Do you want to talk about the things that scare you?”

  “What are you, my therapist?” She retorted, rolling her eyes in amusement.

Gregory pouted, crossing his arms. “No way, therapists are lame. It’s just…I mean…Freddy gets me to talk about what scares me ‘cause he says it helps, and it kinda does, so… maybe it’ll help you, too?”

She looked at him for a moment, then gave a ghost of a smile. “When did you get so wise? Well, I suppose I could give it a shot. Let me think…” She racked her brain for what to say, wanting to start small, and leaned back, propping herself you with her arms as she began. “I guess I was scared even before we went back to the Pizzaplex; just the idea of being there again terrified me. And then, I… I was scared when we saw the building again. I wanted to throw up. Then I was scared when I went down into the basement—I was looking to find the source of the virus, to destroy it for good,” she added hastily, realising she never explained to them why she went down there in the first place. She paused to take a couple deep breaths. “Then I saw that… that thing made of wires and animatronic pieces and that scared me so bad, and then I fell through the floor and I was trapped down there, and—” Her throat felt tight. She swallowed a few times, but it barely helped. “And then I found that endo. I found Glitchtrap and he was real and I was so fucking terrified, Gregory.” 

Save for when she’d first been freed, she’d never cried in front of Gregory before. There was the occasional silent tear that she’d been able to hide from him, but beyond that she’d always saved her emotions for when she was behind closed doors.

  “It almost killed me. It wanted to kill me. But it didn’t because it wanted to torture me, it wanted me to become Vanny again. Then it brought me to that room—that one that we hid in—a-and, god, Gregory, they were there. Those were the children I killed. Their bodies were there,” she gasped, tears beginning to drip down her face.  “T-Then you saw what happened, it tried to kill me, but that was nothing compared to when I saw you appear. Do you have any idea how fucking horrified I was? When it threatened to make me hunt you again? When it threatened to put you under the virus? When I watched it injure you?”

  “Sorry—” Gregory began, but Vanessa cut him off.

  “Shut up!” She cried, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “I wasn’t blaming you! I— god...” She took a shaky breath, trying to get herself back under control. “But you want to know what scared me the most in all this?”

  “What?” He whispered.

  “When we were in those tunnels, I thought I heard you scream,” she admitted. “When I had no idea if it was really you calling out to me. When I thought it might have already killed you.”

That was her breaking point, reminiscing that horrifying moment. It was like the fragile walls of composure she’d put up around her heart had been shattered, and the floodgates were opened. For the first time since arriving home from the Pizzaplex, she let herself cry. Let herself truly process the terror of what they’d gone through. Let herself not be okay.

It wasn’t silent tears any more, she was full on sobbing. Messy, unfiltered sobs as she gripped her own arms and continued spilling her fears and the deepest, darkest parts of her heart out to him.

  “I wanted to die,” she admitted harshly in-between gasps for breath. “I wanted to die rather than face a life without you. The idea of losing you was the scariest fucking thing to ever happen to me, Gregory.”

She felt a hand on her arm, and lifted her head to find him peering up at her, with face pinched in distress. He spread his arms, and Vanessa didn’t waste any time in grabbing him up, one hand balled in his shirt and the other buried into the child’s messy locks, face tucked into his shoulder.

And she wept. Clinging onto this boy like he was her only lifeline in a hurricane. Let the anguish and fear wash over her in waves now that it was no longer bottled up. She trembled in his hold, somehow feeling more vulnerable and small than the child embracing her.

Gregory was crying, too. She could tell by the faint wetness dripping into her hair that she was pretty sure couldn’t be from her own tears, although he was much quieter than she was being. How ironic, for their roles to be reversed like that.

They stayed like that for a good while, sharing a cry together. Sometime later, after the waterworks had stopped and they’d sat there holding each other, she pulled back, swiping at her cheeks, but altogether feeling like a weight had been lifted.

  “You are the best thing that has ever come into my life, kiddo,” she said hoarsely, keeping her hands on his shoulders as she stared into his tear stained face, trying to drill that fact into that stubborn head of his. “Y’know…” she continued after a moment, glancing away, “when you first freed me and left me alone in that hideout, I almost killed myself,” she admitted quietly, ignoring the boy’s sharp intake of breath and disturbed wince that followed.

It might’ve seemed like a strange and concerning thing to admit to someone, especially to a child, but Gregory was not a normal child and this was, unfortunately, far from being the scariest thing he’d heard of the past couple days. Besides, she felt that it was important for him to hear.

  “And I would’ve, if… not for you. If not for the knowledge that there was still a lost, hurt child in the building whom I could not bear to just leave to fend for themself,” she whispered. “You didn’t just save me, you were my reason to want to live again. You have no idea how much you mean to me. Alright, kid? So don’t ever, ever think that I feel anything less than absolute love for you…”

Gregory was looking at her strangely. And in that split-second until her brain caught up to her words, she couldn’t understand why, but when it did hit her …

She wanted to bash her head against the wall for fucking up again.

Immediately she let go of him like the contact burned her, scrambling to remedy her mistake.  “Shit, Greg, I didn’t mean— Well, I did mean, but—!” she ran her hands through her bangs with a frustrated sigh at her own nonsensical jumble of words and incompetence. “I just didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries! I’m so sorry if I made you uncomfortable or whatever and I totally get it if you don’t feel the same because after all why would you I’ve done nothing to deserve—”

  “Did you mean it?” Gregory demanded, cutting her off.

She stopped. Maybe it was the intensity in which he asked, maybe it was something in his face; this faint, inexplicable glimmer of hope she swore she could see in his eyes. Or maybe it was the fact she’d been suppressing this admission for so long that keeping it in any longer was becoming impossible. Whatever the case… she didn’t refute it.

It was scary, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d genuinely felt love towards another human being, and she was worried she was overstepping boundaries with him. But, she’d already bared some of the ugliest, rawest parts of her soul to him tonight. It was only fair that he’d hear the good, too.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I did. I do. I love you, Gregory,” she said softly. “You’re… you’re like a little brother to me. You’re family. And, just…” She had to pause to clear her throat, a lump of some unidentifiable emotion rising in it. “…So much. I love you so much, kiddo.”

For an impossibly long few seconds, all Gregory did was stare at her. Open-mouthed, eyes wide, but otherwise emotions unreadable. Her heart skipped a beat.

An apology was on the tip of her tongue, to wave her hands and say that he could forget she ever said anything. But the second she opened her mouth, she was stopped by a pair of trembling arms snaking around her torso again.

  “Wha—”

  “I… I love you too.” Gregory murmured into her sternum, so quiet that she almost didn’t catch it. And he said it quickly, too, like he was worried there if he didn’t get the words out fast enough that she would change her mind—as if that could ever happen.

Well, it turned out Vanessa’s tears had not run completely dry, as she found herself crying again.

And laughing.

Tears and smiles mixed together on her face, reflecting the overwhelming warmth and joy and love blooming in her chest. She squeezed the boy back in a tight hug, drinking in the sound of his own giggles he let out.

   Maybe she wasn’t a fuck-up after all.

After a minute, they broke apart again, and Vanessa gave a contented sigh, ruffling his hair. “It’s late, kiddo, you should get some sleep.” Truth be told, she was tired too. Exhausted, more like, after the turmoil of the past few days… and the emotional whiplash of the past thirty minutes.

  “…But what if I don’t wanna go,” he mumbled petulantly, bringing his knees up to his chin.

  “I never said you had to leave.” She smiled, crawling over to her side of the bed and pulling back the covers. “Sleepover?”

His tired eyes brightened, and he nodded shyly, scrambling over to occupy the space next to her.

  “Nessa?” He asked as they settled in.

  “Yeah?”

  “…Are we gonna be okay?”

She pretended that her heart didn’t break a little at that. “I don’t know, bud,” she answered honestly after a heavy second of silence. “But I’ll do everything I can to make sure that we will.”

  “Okay,” he said quietly, snuggling into the covers. She couldn’t tell if he believed her or not. “Goodnight, Nessa.”

  “Goodnight, Gregory,” she replied softly. “I love you.” It was like now that words had finally been spoken out loud, she felt as though she could never say them enough. And then, scooting closer, she ventured to press a light kiss onto the crown of the boy’s head.

He replied by simply snuggling closer to her, and if possible, her heart felt even fuller.

His head was tucked into the crook between her collarbone and chin, a skinny arm thrown over her torso. She had an arm draped over his shoulder with her hand up to cradle the back of his head. Their free hands were loosely intertwined together in the small space between their bodies.

Despite everything, despite their conflicting backgrounds and circumstances and experiences, they slotted together perfectly. Like two puzzle pieces. Once predator and prey, now caregiver and child. Sister and brother.

And, god, Vanessa didn’t think she ever felt as at peace as she did right then. (Even if she knew she’d wake up later with hair itching her nose, a tingling arm, and most of the covers stolen.)

It felt, to put it simply, like home.

She listened as the child's breathing slowly levelled out and he fell asleep. He looked so peaceful and small and young in his slumber, reminding her again that… he was young. At the end of the day he was only an eleven-year-old boy; one that life had dealt a cruel hand. His main worries in life should have been nothing but making friends, passing math class, and whether or not he has enough pocket money to buy a new video game. Not abusive caregivers, homelessness, and being ensnared in the convoluted plot of a depraved entity hellbent on murder.

And it broke her fucking heart. In that moment, she made a vow to herself. Never again would she be that selfish, willfully ignorant, cowardly girl. Never again would she hide herself in her room and ignore the world around her. It was time she took the fucking accountability for her actions, and put an end to the mess that she unleashed in the first place.

That resolution lit a fire inside of her, melting away the fear that lingered in her heart.

She would destroy that son-of-a-bitch robot that hurt her and her family. She would create a life for Gregory where he could live free of fear and pain that clouded his childhood; where they could live happy and safe together; where she didn’t have a list of steps Gregory and Freddy needed to take on what to do if she ever got taken over by the virus again hanging on their goddamn fridge, right there alongside brightly-coloured magnets and Gregory’s drawings, for Christ's sake.

She would create that life, even if it was one that she had to carve out with her bare hands until her fingers were bruised and bloody and worn down to the bone.

Chapter Text

In just a matter of days, Vanessa’s world had shattered and fallen apart. But despite it all, the earth still turned, and the sun still rose, and it was time to start picking the pieces back up.

Not that it was all sunshine and rainbows for them now, no; their wounds of fear and pain ran too deep to be healed by a single late-night conversation. But it was a start, a first step taken out of rock-bottom. A bandage placed upon an open wound.

And speaking of bandages…

She was currently in the process of checking Gregory’s stitches. That bandage had been on for multiple days now, and was admittedly pretty nasty. As was the cut underneath, but thankfully it didn’t seem to be infected or anything, and it looked to be healing nicely. Hopefully she’d be able to take the stitches out in a week or so, but there was no doubt that it would leave a permanent scar.

Gregory had been mostly quiet as she inspected his wound, sitting on the stool in the bathroom and swinging his legs while she examined and prodded and cleaned.

She must have made a face while she was working, as he piped up for the first time since she’d begun, “That bad?” He huffed, a hint of real worry peaking through his facade of amusement.

  “No, actually,” she answered truthfully as she finished wiping away the dried blood and serous fluid and whatever other gunk had leaked out from between the stitches. “Just kinda gross. But it’s healing, and shouldn’t need to be covered by a bandage anymore.” Getting up, she turned to the sink and began washing the dirty washcloth. “You’re good to go now, unless you want me to check out any of your injuries.”

He shook his head and hopped off the stool. “I think I’m okay. Thanks.” But as he was moving to leave the bathroom, he seemed to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror and paused.

Vanessa watched as he stared, transfixed, at himself. Or, more accurately, at his right cheek, where the cut was.

This was his first time seeing it uncovered, she realised. He hadn’t seen it when it first happened (and thank god for that, because it’d been bad), and then it’d been covered with a bandage ever since she stitched it up. He stared at the dark red, almost black line cutting through his face right from his jaw up across his cheek and to the corner of his nose. The area around the cut was faintly mottled with reds and purples, and it was all stitched up in jagged, almost spiky-looking black sutures. He raised a hand and lightly traced over the wound with his finger, but dropped it self-consciously when he caught Vanessa’s eyes in the mirror and seemed to remember she was watching him.

  “Does it bother you?” She asked sympathetically, resting a hand on his shoulder. Poor kid, she thought. She never stopped to think about the ways an injury like this wouldn’t just hurt him physically, but could also hurt his self-esteem.

  “I look like a discount store Frankenstein,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Well, at least he seemed to still have a sense of humour about it all. “Then maybe I should get you some green face paint to really sell the look,” she retorted playfully.

  “Yeah, because that’s just what I need right now,” he snorted, and shrugged off her hand. “Although…” He scratched at the back of his neck self-consciously. “I know you said it doesn’t need a bandage anymore, but…could I…put one on anyway…?”

  “Nervous about going to school with it showing?” She guessed.

Gregory nodded sheepishly.

  “No problem.” She rummaged around in the medicine cabinet for a moment. “Plain or patterned?”

He picked the patterned. It was blue in colour with lighter blue and yellow stars. It didn’t quite cover the whole cut, but covered enough to where you probably wouldn’t notice it from a quick glance.

  “Thank you, Nessa,” he exhaled with a soft smile. He seemed a bit more confident now that the wound was covered up again.

  “Anytime, kid.” She ruffled his hair. “Now hurry up, you’re gonna be late for school. I think Fred’s made breakfast for you.”

He dashed out of the bathroom, and once he was gone, Vanessa took a moment to sit down and rest, letting out a long sigh. It’d been an exhausting morning. Neither of them had gotten much sleep last night, as it’d been past 3:00 a.m. before they’d fallen asleep, and then were woken at the crack of dawn by a panicked Freddy.

See, when Freddy had “woken up” from his charge cycle and no longer had Gregory in his lap, he immediately went to the boy’s bedroom to check on him. And when he wasn’t there either, he’d begun to worry, checking elsewhere in the house before finally checking Vanessa’s room. He had been trying to not wake anybody up… but there’s only so quiet that an 8-foot tall, 500-and-some-odd-pounds robot barging into your room can be. Upon finding both his humans safe and sound, he’d apologized for the intrusion, and then sheepishly asked if he could possibly be included next time they had a sleepover like this? (To which their answer was a resounding yes.)

And then, not long after they’d gotten up, Vanessa had gotten a message from her employer informing her that she was being fired. Honestly, part of her had known this was coming, as she’d used up all her sick days taking care of Gregory when he was sick, and then neglected to inform them of her absence when she went… MIA for a few days following their trip back to the Pizzaplex. So it didn’t exactly come as a surprise, but felt like a blow all the same. She’d need to hurry and find a new job soon to support them, but that was a problem for future Vanessa, she’d decided.

Because right now, she had something much higher on her list of priorities.

Before any of that, though: seeing Gregory off to school.

She exited the bathroom to find the kid scarfing down a bowl of cereal and milk that the bear had prepared for him. Apparently it was one of the few things in the house that was fit to eat (a stark reminder that she needed to go grocery shopping soon).

With a loud plunk he set his empty bowl back down on the table, shooting up from his chair and snatching up his backpack from where he’d plopped it on the floor.

  “‘Kay I gotta go now or else I’ll miss the bus!” Gregory called as he skidded across the floor in his socked feet towards the porch, grabbing his boots and jacket as he went.

  “Good bye, superstar!” Freddy replied heartily, stepping into the hallway so he could give the boy a wave. “Have a good day at school! 

  “Bye, kiddo. Stay outta trouble, alright?” Vanessa said, stepping over to stand beside the bear.

  “Yeah, yeah, I will,” Gregory answered with a lazy wave of his hand. “Bye Freddy, bye Nessa!” He threw open the door and stepped out into the chilly winter morning, but before it could close behind him he hastily shouted one last thing back into the house, “I, um, love you!”

And with that the door slammed shut.

It was all so… domestic, somehow. Vanessa didn’t know the last time that she felt so normal. Like a proper family, as unconventional as their little unit was. It was something that, deep down, her younger self craved as much as she was sure Gregory did.

She hummed contentedly, a soft smile gracing her lips. Besides her, she could see Freddy stop and beam. Quite literally; she was pretty sure his eyes started glowing a few notches brighter for a moment there.

  “I am so proud of him,” he murmured, almost reverently. “He has grown so much.”

  “Yeah,” Vanessa agreed, leaning against the bear’s side. “He has, hasn’t he?”

  “Was that his first time?” Freddy asked suddenly, confusing Vanessa.

  “His first time what?”

  “Saying that he loved you.”

  “Oh,” she replied, squirming uncomfortably a little. She wasn’t good when it came to discussing emotions and that sort of stuff. “No. He said it last night. Well… technically I said it first.”

Freddy looked down at her, smiling. “I see. That makes me very happy to hear. I am proud of you as well, Vanessa.”

She closed her eyes for a moment as she leaned against him. “Thanks, big guy. But what about you? Has he said it to you before?”

  “Yes,” Freddy confided. “Once. It was… while he was sick. It was the middle of the night and he was delirious, so I was unsure if he even remembers saying it.”

  “Well, whether he remembers or not, he still means it,” she assured him.

  “Do you truly believe so?” He asked with cautious optimism.

She snorted incredulously. “Are you kidding me? I’d be more shocked if he hadn’t said it. He thinks the world of you. Anybody with eyes could see that.”

  “Then I am very glad to hear that,” he replied warmly.

  “Have you said it to him back?”

Freddy was quiet for a moment before admitting with a sigh, “No… I have not.”

  “Really?” Vanessa raised an eyebrow at him. “Why not?”

  “Because what would it mean?” Freddy snapped his jaw shut, shaking his head, like he didn’t mean to say that. “That is… I mean…” He sighed again. “I do not exactly know how to say what I mean, but I suppose it is just that… At the end of the day, I am a robot. You know that just as well as I do. Love… am I capable of even feeling it? Do I even truly know what it means? If I do not have a heart nor a soul, or anything that makes a person a person, then I cannot “feel”. And if I cannot feel, then what would me saying “I love you” mean except just being some… hollow words that I am parroting?”

Ah, it’d been awhile since one of Freddy’s existential dread episodes. She should’ve known this sort of question was coming. It left her reeling for a moment, and she couldn’t quite follow everything that he’d said, but she’d gotten the gist of it.

  “Why?” She asked lightly, trying to broach the subject with caution. “Do you not believe that you can feel?”

  “I suppose I would not know the difference, would I?” Freddy pointed out bluntly.

Damn, she couldn’t argue with him there. “Touché. But,” she continued. “For what it’s worth? I think you have more ‘heart’ and ‘soul’ than most flesh-and-blood people I’ve met. I won’t pretend to know how your programming works, because I sure as hell don’t, but you’ve proved time and time again that you are not bound to it. Ultimately, though, I can’t answer this conundrum for you, it’s something you’re gonna have to figure out for yourself. I guess the only advice that I can give is to not overthink it too much, and try to focus on how you ‘feel’, not how you think you’re supposed to behave,” she rambled, not entirely sure of what she was even saying, but hoping she was helping at least a little. “And even if you think they’d just be ‘hollow words’, I can assure that to Gregory they’d be anything but.”

  “I… hope you are right,” Freddy finally conceded.

  “I know I am.” She looked up at him with a reassuring smile. Then she remembered something, taking a step back. “Oh, right! I meant to ask, how are you finding your new body? Any issues you need me to look at?”

  “No, I have not experienced any issues. I am adjusting well!” He answered enthusiastically. “It has taken me a little bit of time to re-learn some fine-motor motions, but it is all coming back to me quickly—muscle memory, I believe the human phrase is.”

  “Good, that’s good,” she said, relieved. Because shit, they really didn’t have the money to order any spare electronic parts, and there was no way in hell that she was sneaking back into the Pizzaplex to steal them.

  “Well! What are your plans for today, Vanessa?” Freddy asked suddenly, startling her out of her thoughts.

That innocent question immediately put an end to her lighthearted mood. “…Research,” she admitted, biting her lip.

Freddy didn’t seem to notice her mood change however. “Oh? What subject has sparked your curiosity?” 

She took a deep breath. “That… thing we found in the basement of the Pizzaplex. I need to find out what it is.”

Gregory walked through the halls of his school, trying his best to keep his head down and his chin up. Invisible, that’s all he wanted to be.

He scratched at the edge of his bandage—a nervous fidget he’d picked up—as he headed towards the cafeteria, hoping he could get in and out before the bulk of the students even got there.

All in all, he would have been doing a pretty good job at his goals, if it wasn’t for a certain something hindering him. Or, rather, two somethings.

  “Greg! Hey, Greg— wait up!”

He cringed at the sound of the voice, freezing, before his shoulders drooped with a sigh of resignation. Realising he had no way out of this situation—save for straight up running away which would be the opposite of inconspicuous and would just cause more issues later—he slowly turned around to face the source of the voice. “Hey Ellis, hey Tony,” he said meekly, forcing an air of casualness into his tone.

  “He speaks!” Ellis exclaimed dramatically as the two of them caught up to Gregory. “Dude, are you good? What’s going on? You’ve been, like, avoiding us.”

He wilted under their gazes; Ellis’s seeming confused whereas Tony’s was more scrutinizing. “I, uh— I was— I wasn’t avoiding you?” He stammered out.

Which was a load of bull, and they all knew it. Both that day and the day before, he had been going out of his way to avoid his friends. Such as getting to class right before the bell rang, leaving as soon as class ended, and even eating lunch in the gym the day prior with the rest of the social rejects. Not because he didn’t want to see his friend, because he did, but because he didn’t want them asking questions. Honestly… Gregory didn’t even really know what his end goal with this was. Did he hope that he’d be able to successfully avoid them until they forgot all about his week-long absence and a new bandage covering half his face? Because obviously, that wasn’t going to happen, not without seriously jeopardizing their friendship.

In any case, the charade was up now, and he had to figure out how the hell he was gonna explain this one away.

  “Greg, did we… do something to upset you?” Tony pressed. “I mean, I’m drawing a blank on what that could even be…” he muttered, “…but uh, if we did, then I’m sorry.”

Gregory shook his head. “No, no. You guys didn’t do anything. I was… sick, that’s all.” He tried the approach of a half-truth, hoping that would be convincing enough

  “We know that. You messaged us, remember?” Tony reminded him bluntly. “It’s since you came back to school yesterday that we’re wondering about. Is everything okay? And what happened to your face?” He added, pointing at the bandage.

Gregory racked his brain for a valid answer and nervously scratched at the bandage in question again.

Big mistake.

His repeated fidgeting with the bandage throughout the day had evidently weakened the adhesive, and it chose that moment to give out, the top half of the bandaid peeling away and exposing the full, ugly view of his stitched-up wound for the whole world—namely Tony and Ellis—to see.

Nobody said anything for a moment, until the silence was broken by a low whistle from Ellis. “Dude, that’s a gnarly looking cut. What happened?”

Gregory pressed the palm of his hand over the cut in an attempt to cover it up and re-stick the bandage, despite the damage already being done. He tried his best to think quickly, “I, uh, slipped on some ice the other day. Landed on a sharp rock.”

  “Ooo, ouch,” Ellis replied with a wince. “That must’ve hurt. You got like, what, was that a dozen stitches?”

  “Eighteen,” admitted Gregory with a grimace.

Ellis raised his eyebrows. “And you thought that the six you had to get when you fell off your bike when we were in 3rd grade was bad, huh Tony?” He said, turning to their friend, who had been oddly quiet… staring at Gregory. “Tony? Hey, space-cadet, are you even listening?!”

  “You said this happened the other day?” Tony asked finally, completely ignoring the taller boy’s ramblings in favour of interrogating Gregory.

Gregory frowned in confusion. “Um… yes?”

  “That cut is old,” Tony stated. “At least three or four days, if I had to guess.”

  “I mean… yeah, that’s about when it happened…?” He answered nervously, not quite sure where Tony was going with this. “Why?”

  “You said it yourself, you were sick, and that’s why you didn’t come back to school until yesterday. So if this incident happened a few days ago, what were you doing outside in a place with ice and rocks if you weren’t well enough to go to school?” He challenged, tapping a pen against his own chin like some kind of old-timey detective.

Gregory’s mind went blank. This was exactly what he was afraid of; his friend’s uncanny perceptiveness. “Uh…”

  “You’re hiding something from us.”

That statement—because it certainly wasn’t a question at that point—was the final proverbial nail in the coffin for Gregory as hung his head in defeat, realising that he had no more excuses to get himself out of this situation. “Fine, maybe I am,” he admitted, crossing his arms in a show of defiance. “But I can’t tell you what,”

Tony frowned, exchanging a look with Ellis. “Why not? We’re friends, aren’t we?”

  “I just..” Gregory’s voice cracked a little, hating how he was hurting his friends with this, “…can’t, okay?”

He watched as Tony’s face went through a sequence of emotions. First hurt, then confusion, then his eyes light up like he’d just made a discovery, and then finally what Gregory could only describe as abject horror. He suddenly reached out a hand towards him, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Greg, you’re not… your foster mom isn’t hurting you, is she?”

The pit dropped out of Gregory’s stomach at his hypothesis. “No!” He exclaimed vehemently, waving his hands in front of him. “That’s not—! She would never—! Vanessa is wonderful!” He insisted.

  Shit. Shit. Shit, this was bad. Gregory’s mind was racing. If Tony had a suspicion about something, he would follow that suspicion until he either found himself right or got proved wrong. Even worse, he could let something slip to a teacher or his mom, and then they would call CPS, who would come investigate, and they’d find everything and they’d take him away and Vanessa would go to prison and Freddy would probably be scrapped, and—

  No. He couldn’t let that train of thought continue any further. He had to convince his friends that everything was okay. “I'm fine, really, don't worry about me.”

  “Are you sure?” Tony asked softly, taking a step towards him. “Because if you are, w-we can help you! We can tell a teacher or the counsellor o-or somebody. They can help! And you won’t be into any trouble, I promise! We can figure this out.”

While he did value his friends’ concern for him, Gregory couldn’t let this topic continue. Standing his ground, he looked up right into Tony’s face, mustering up all the solemnity and determination he held. “Tony, listen, I know how much you love investigating, and that you’re worried about me, but if you care about me as a friend then promise me you’ll drop it.”

Ellis must’ve recognised the seriousness in his tone, as he looked between the two of them nervously. “Dude, if Greg says to leave it alone, then I think you should listen,” he said quietly, leaning in towards Tony.

  “But—” Tony tried to argue.

  “Promise me,” Gregory insisted again, voice shaking in his effort to keep calm.

  “I…” Tony swallowed hesitantly, before letting out a long sigh and breaking the stare. “I don’t like it,” he admitted, shaking his head, “but… I promise,” he conceded finally.

Gregory let out a breath, relief washing over him. “Good, that’s good. I mean, thank you, and…” he cleared his throat awkwardly, “I’m sorry for making you worry about me.”

  “Hey,” Tony said softly. “It’s alright. And I’m sorry for prying, my mom says I have a habit of doing that sometimes. Are we good?” He asked, holding out a hand. It was something they did, ever since Gregory’s awkward handshake when they’d first met. A handshake had become their standard gesture for things like this, used as casually as their peers might use a high-five or a fist bump.

Of course, Gregory accepted the shake. “We’re good,” he answered with a relieved smile, and did the same with Ellis.

He just hoped Tony would keep his word.

Ellis then cleared his throat, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen and making Gregory jump a little. “So… lunch?” He asked brightly. He was obviously just trying to change the topic, but it was appreciated all the same. “We’re probably only gonna have a few minutes to eat.”

Gregory looked around, realising that the hallways were now mostly empty, and that they had been standing around talking for quite one time now.

  “As if that’ll be a problem for you,” Tony retorted, poking the taller boy in the side, “Mr ‘won a hotdog-eating contest two years in a row,'” earning much snickering from Gregory

And with that crisis (hopefully) successfully averted, he followed his friends into the cafeteria.

Back at home, Vanessa felt like she was banging her head against a wall.

She should’ve realised that any sort of information would be hard to come by. This was Fazbear’s, they’d had over fifty years experience in burying the skeletons in their closet. Even utilizing the backdoor access she had into some of the company’s private archives didn’t bear much fruit. It also didn’t help that she didn’t even know exactly what she was trying to look up.

She was at her laptop for hours, disregarding basic human necessities like food or going to the bathroom in favour of endlessly scouring articles and webpages. In a way, it reminded her of when she was doing research in preparation for fostering Gregory, and just like back then, she still had Freddy looking out for her.

Sipping on the cup of cocoa he’d prepared for her, she looked over for the umpteenth time the few tidbits she had been able to find.

First, was a sort of operator’s manual she’d found in the private company archives. It outlined a series of “Mimic” robots. These were apparently animatronic endoskeletons designed by a Fazbear contractor with telescopic limbs and torso, allowing them to fit into any mascot suit. Kind of like how the endos worked for the Glamrocks; it was much cheaper to produce one kind of endoskeleton that could be used in multiple shells. Maybe these “Mimics” were the inspiration for that.

But what made this endoskeleton line stand out, and what gave it their name, was their advanced programming that let them “learn” from their environment. It was AI, basically, and incredibly advanced for its time (the manual was dated to around the mid 80s). According to the manual, it was so advanced that if you just left one of these “Mimics” in a room with other animatronics who were in performance mode for a bit, it would be able to replicate the motions and sounds that it saw, meaning that Fazbear could save thousands of dollars and countless hours on having to program each individual robot's movements.

It was fascinating to read, even for Vanessa who wasn't an engineer. She had almost forgotten her purpose for even reading that manual in the first place, until she came across a diagram of one of those endos. Sure, the thing that they had seen in the basement was a little rougher, more beat up, and wearing some sort of costume, but there was no doubt in her mind now that it was one of these “Mimics.”

Then, the second relevant piece of information she’d found was an internal memo, sent out to employees. It asked for the immediate discontinuation of the Mimic line, and to decommission any of the existing ones. No reason was given as to why, and it was dated in the late summer of 1985not even a full year after that manual she’d read was published.

Something must have gone very, very wrong for Fazbear to have put an end to the line so quickly, because they must have invested an obscene amount of money into funding the development of that technology. Then again, if those “Mimics” acted even a fraction of the way the one they’d encountered had, she could see why they wouldn’t want them anywhere near guests.

Finally, the third thing she’d found. It wasn’t directly related to any “Mimics”—as far as she could tell—but it did have to do with the basement itself, and sent a chill down her spine. It was a news article, from during the time of the Pizzaplex’s construction. Apparently, the Pizzaplex was built on top of an older Freddy’s location, and their plan was to turn that into a museum showcasing the company’s (carefully selected) history. However during the excavation of this old location, what was simply described as a “freak accident due to the sudden malfunction of a piece of machinery” occurred, resulting in the deaths of seven construction workers and the excavation project getting canned.

But what really caught her attention was a comment in the comments section at the bottom of the article. The person claimed to be an employee who was there at the time of this tragedy, calling this article's rendition of it “a load of bullshit.” This commenter instead described it as “a lanky, skeletal, nightmarish robot” that “just started ripping people’s limbs off.”

In other words, it fit the bill of what she’d found down there perfectly.

What she still couldn’t figure out, however, was how Glitchtrap/Afton fit into all of this. Nor did any of this even so much as allude to the other animatronic they’d found down there—the one that was a giant mass of wires and odd parts. And after another hour of research she was no closer to finding an answer to any of these things. All her endeavours had left her with were fatigued eyes and a spinning head. Still, she would’ve probably kept scrolling anyways, if not for Freddy coming up behind her and just picking her up.

  “Gah—! Freddy?! Hey! What are you doing?! Put me down!” She exclaimed, squirming in his grasp as he walked.

  “Sorry, Vanessa, but I cannot,” he said cheerfully. Too cheerfully. The bastard was getting a kick out of this, wasn’t he. “You need a break.”

Her efforts to wriggle out of his hold were futile, and the bear dumped her onto the sofa. She only narrowly avoided banging her head on the armrest.

  “I may be smaller than you, but I’m not a kid, Freddy. I can take care of myself, you don't have to manhandle me,” she grumbled as she sat up, only to find Freddy approaching her again, throw blanket held in his hands and a mischievous grin on his face.

  “Oh no, don’t you dare,” she glared at him as she realised what was happening, making a desperate attempt at scrambling off the sofa and ducking around him.

But he was quicker, and there was nothing she could do once caught in those solid arms of his, and no amount of squirming or grumbling would make him let up his attack.

Within a matter of seconds, she was bundled up in the blanket like a cocoon, wrapped up so tightly that her arms were pinned to her sides.

  “Ta-da!” Freddy exclaimed joyfully. “A Vanessa-rito! You’d fit right in at El-Chips!”

She wanted to slap that smug look right off his face. “Ha-ha, yeah Freddy, very funny,” she retorted, unamused. “Now could you put me down? Please?”

  “Hm…” he stared off for a moment, like he was considering her words. “Nope!” And he proceeded to drop her right back onto the sofa again.

She sputtered, both in indignation and because some of her hair had gotten caught in her mouth during this whole altercation.

She gave the bear a scathing glare from her throne of shame. Or, as scathing as she could possibly look when she was quite literally swaddled up like an infant. “Has my suffering amused you enough yet?”

  “I would argue that not taking care of yourself is substantially more suffering than being wrapped in a blanket is,” he said simply.

If her hands weren’t pinned to her sides, she would’ve flipped him the bird, whatever scolding would ensue be damned.

  “Now, I request that you stay there for at least ten minutes," he advised. "Preferably while resting your eyes, as I can imagine that so many hours looking at that laptop screen would have caused some strain—"

He was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and closing, and Gregory announcing his arrival back home.

"Ha!" She gloated. "Saved! You wouldn't try to stop me from going to greet Greg!" She wriggled her way out of her fuzzy prison before Freddy could protest, slipping past him and into the hall.

  “Hey, Nessa,” Gregory greeted, then gave her a funny look. “Why is your hair so messed up?”

She reached up to touch her hair, finding it immensely staticky as a result of the blanket scuffle. "Freddy tried to torture me," she deadpanned.

  "I most certainly did not!" Freddy protested, stepping out from around the corner. "I was merely trying to entice Vanessa into taking a rest!"

The kid snorted. "...Do I even want to ask?"

  "Well! How was school, superstar?" Freddy asked, completely pivoting the subject.

  “Fine.” He shrugged. “It was school.” It was that tone of voice that clearly meant either he had nothing to say, or didn’t want to talk about it. “What about you guys? What did you do today? Besides the torture.”

She debated for a moment if she wanted to tell the truth or not, not wanting to remind him of their experiences, but figured that he had a right to know too. “Trying to figure out what that robot we found in the Pizzaplex’s basement was. I managed to find a couple interesting bits of information.”

He frowned at the mention of the robot, but honestly seemed more intrigued than upset. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

  “Probably would be easier for me to just show you.” She led him over to her laptop and powered it on, taking a seat while he hovered over her shoulder. Freddy lingered not far behind too, evidently curious himself.

First, she opened up the operator’s manual, scrolling through it and giving him a quick rundown on the information it gave. Gregory seemed very enthralled by it—he did have an aptitude for robotics, after all—and agreed that it sounded very much like the thing that they’d found. Next, was the memo about the discontinuation of the “Mimic” line. Not much to say about it, but Gregory agreed that it seemed very suspicious. Finally, she got to the news article.

She scooted to the side to give Gregory better access to the laptop, letting him scroll through and read the article to see for himself if anything “sounds familiar.”

Except, after a couple minutes of reading, he froze, and Vanessa literally as the colour drained from his face.

  “Gregory, bud, are you okay?” She asked, immediately concerned. This wasn’t like him. “What’s wrong? What did you see?”

  “No…” he murmured, so quietly she almost didn’t hear it, as he shook his head and slowly backed away, his eyes still glued to the screen.

  “What—”

He let out a strangled noise, somewhere between a whimper and a cry, and before Vanessa could do anything else he suddenly turned and fled, running down the hall and into his room, door slamming shut behind him, and leaving her and Freddy standing around the laptop in stunned silence.

Baffled, she exchanged a glance with the animatronic, finding the confusion and concern she felt mirrored back at her in his expression.

After a few seconds of this, he elected to break the silence. “I will… go check on him,” Freddy said quietly, sounding as lost as she felt.

She nodded. “You do that. I’ll, uh, see if I can figure out what… upset him?”

As Freddy began to clunk his way down the hall after the boy, she turned her attention to the laptop screen, seeing if she could figure out what the hell had set him off like that.

The section of the article that he had stopped on was where it listed the victims of the attack. Her first thought was that, maybe seeing the names and faces of others who had died at the hands of that monster made it seem more real to him? It didn't quite explain why he reacted as strongly as he did, but then again, who was she to judge how he processed his trauma?

Not everybody was as desensitized to death as she was, after all.

But then she took a closer look at the specifics of the victims. She hadn’t paid a whole lot of attention to them when she first read the article, because it didn’t seem relevant. Well, she had been wrong. Very, very wrong. Because as she looked through the names of the victims, two in particular caught her eye, side by side under a photo of what looked to be a happy young couple.

Melissa and Lucas Torben.

Torben.

That was Gregory’s last name.

With a sinking heart, she frantically went to double-check the date that the article was written, even though she already knew it.

August of 2027. Eight years ago.

What was it that Gregory had said, back during their first day together, when she had asked him about his parents?

  “Dead. Happened when I was three.”

  “Some sort of demolition accident. They had a construction firm together or something. I dunno the details.”

Doing the math in her head, in 2027 he would have been…

Three years old.

Despite all the evidence painting a clear picture of what had happened, part of her refused to believe it, because she could not believe that their luck could be any more abysmal.

But the proof was there, undeniably staring back at her. Worse, the more that she studied the photo of the late couple, the more she could see bits of Gregory in them. He had his mother’s bright eyes and smile; his father’s nose and unruly head of hair; the kid’s chocolatey brown colour a perfect mix of his father’s sandy-brown and his mother’s darker-toned.

She felt sick, unable to stare at that damn article for any longer, and thus pushed her laptop away, resting her elbows on the table and putting her head in her hands.

How was it possible? That one fucking entertainment company for children could have brought so much misery, generation after generation? That the kid who—despite her attempts to murder him—had freed her from the virus just so happened to have had his life ruined by the exact same entity that had ruined hers, and neither of them had even known it?

Fazbear Entertainment felt like a trap. A fucked-up labyrinth where every time they felt that they were nearing escape, that the light was in sight, a twisted claw would swoop out from the shadows to drag them back into it’s clutches.

The strings of fate that had tied her, Gregory, and Freddy together that once seemed like a miracle, now felt more like the rope of a noose, slowly but surely circling around their necks.

She dragged a weary hand down her face, knowing that for however much this realisation sent her reeling, it must have affected Gregory tenfold, and she needed to be there for him. So she picked herself up off that chair, and shuffled down the hall.

She wasn’t sure what to expect when she entered the kid’s room. When she did, she found Freddy helplessly standing near the doorway, and Gregory sitting on his bed, curled up with a pillow clutched in his arms. He was shaking, but not making any noise as far as she could tell. Murmuring a brief explanation of her discovery to Freddy as she passed, she went and perched herself on the corner of the boy’s bed. 

  “Hey, buddy,” she said as softly as she could. “I read the article.”

No reply.

Hesitant, she tried again. “Is there anything I can do to help you right now? Do you want to talk about it?”

  “I hate it,” he whispered, muffled by the pillow.

  “What was that?”

  “I hate it,” he said louder this time. “I hate it I hate it I hate it I HATE IT!” Abruptly, he slammed the pillow that he was holding down onto his bed, and began punching it. “I hate it, I hate it, I want that thing to die, it needs to die, why does it exist, why did it do that, why why why!”

Vanessa narrowly avoided being hit by the pillow, as he suddenly chucked it away and it slammed into the wall behind her. He looked almost as if he was possessed, kicking and punching and throwing things around on his bed, all while nonsensically repeating those words between his whines and screams. She was helpless to do anything besides watch as he thrashed in his rage and grief.

But his violent movements eventually slowed, and he kneeled hunched over on his bed with the only sound coming out of him being the heavy breathing as a result of exerting himself so much.

Then the breathing hitched, his shoulders fell, and he began to cry.

And Vanessa was there, with her arms open for him to fall into. He began to cry quietly into her sweater. Freddy came up and knelt by the edge of his bed as well, softly resting a paw on his head while Vanessa wrapped her arms around his back. No words were said, the two of them just held him as he let everything out.

It took a couple minutes, but his soft cries and sniffles gradually waned. He leaned back, out of their holds, but kept his head down, as if ashamed.

Freddy procured a tissue out of goodness-only-knew where and held it out to the boy, which he accepted gratefully. Still, nobody said anything.

Vanessa decided to be the one to break the silence. “How are you feeling now?” she asked gently, brushing his bangs out of his face.

Gregory appeared to think for a moment. “I don’t know why I’m so upset,” he sniffled finally, glassy-eyed trained downwards. “It happened so long ago and I don’t even really remember them. A-and I have you and Freddy now! It shouldn’t bother me,” he sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

Vanessa would be lying if she said that him implying that her and Freddy were on par with biological family in his head didn’t give her a warm and fuzzy feeling. But more than anything she just felt… sadness. For this hurting child who apparently didn’t even think that he deserved to feel that hurt. 

She shook her head softly. “Gregory… they were your parents,” she reminded him, incredulous. “It doesn’t matter if it happened ten minutes or ten years ago, you have every right to be upset. And even if you don’t really remember them, you still loved them, and I’m sure they loved you. And your heart remembers that love.”

  “But—”

She gently shushed him. “No ‘but’s. You’re allowed to mourn the life you would have had with them.”

He nodded, then his face scrunched up again, and he turned and buried his face in Freddy’s shoulder, who quickly scooped him up in his arms.

  “It hurts,” Gregory wavered, the sound of his voice tugging at her heartstrings. Fuck, he sounded so young. It reminded her that, at the end of the day, he was just a kid who missed his mom and dad; ones who will never come home.

The memory flashed through her head—god, sometimes it felt like it was just yesterday—of when she was around Gregory’s age, and the exact moment she found out that her mom had taken her own—

She swallowed thickly. “I know, buddy. Believe me, I know.”

  “Oh, superstar…” was all Freddy said. She couldn’t blame him for being lost on how to handle this situation. He was programmed to comfort kids who had gotten accidentally separated from their parents for a few minutes, not those who had lost them permanently. But he was trying, and she got the feeling that him just being there was helping Gregory enough.

The kid let out a shaky exhale, drawing away from Freddy again. “Okay, I’m good now. And… I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Vanessa couldn’t tell if he was apologizing for his outburst or for crying, but she was quick to reassure him all the same. “Don’t be. You didn’t hurt anybody or anything, so it’s alright. You don’t need to apologise for how you’re feeling, even if that feeling is anger.”

  “…Okay,” he accepted meekly with a nod.

  “Is there anything either of us can do to help you right now?” She added.

Gregory fidgeted with his hands for a moment, looking torn.  “Could I… possibly be alone for a little bit?” He asked hesitantly. “I just need time to… think. About all this.” He gestured vaguely.

The Vanessa of a few weeks ago wouldn’t have reacted to this very well. She would have said yes, of course, but internally she would’ve been clouded with self-doubt, worried that the kid didn’t trust her or secretly hated her. But now? She knew that that wasn’t the case, and this request wasn’t a reflection on her or anything. He simply needed the time and space to process his trauma, as this was a situation that was deeply personal for him.

It was, after all, a grief that she had no share in.

  “Of course you can, kiddo,” she replied with a soft smile, and ruffled his hair. “Take all the time you need. We’ll be right here whenever you’re ready.” 

And he did. He eventually emerged from his room a couple hours later appearing significantly calmer. They shared a late supper together, then cozied up on the couch to watch one of Vanessa’s personal favourite movies from her childhood—Ponyo. Sometime during the last thirty minutes of the movie, the kid fell asleep—no surprise considering how exhausted he must’ve been. So as soon as the credits started rolling, Freddy gingerly picked the sleeping boy up, and carried him to his room.

  “Huh… Freddy?” Gregory mumbled sleepily as he was being laid into bed.

  “You fell asleep, superstar,” Freddy replied softly. “So I have brought you to your bed.”

  “Kay…” his eyes fluttered shut again as he curled up around one of his plush toys. “G’night Freddy…”

  “Goodnight, Gregory,” The animatronic said warmly, the soft yellow glow of his eyes gently illuminating the kid’s sleepy figure. “Rest well. I love you.”

Vanessa, who was waiting outside of the room and overheard the whole interaction, smiled, and raised a hand to give the bear a silent high-five when he came back out. It was a strange feeling, to be proud of an animatronic entertainment mascot, but she was. She was proud of him. He’d grown and changed over the past couple months, too.

She felt light; a glowing warmth flickering in her chest despite it all. As much as she wished that she could snap her fingers and take away their hurt and their scars, she wouldn’t trade this for the world.

Because at the end of the day, the strings of fate may have been cruel, but it’d tied them together all the same.

Chapter Text

Thus, life went on, and over the next few days the trio settled back into their version of “normal”—or some semblance of it. For Vanessa, this included going through the headache of sending out job applications again on account of her being fired (something she was still pissed at herself for being careless enough to let happen), but finding little success. On Saturday, this comfortable monotony would find itself being interrupted by a sudden text message from a certain guy.

Luis: Hey, Ness! It’s been a while, how are you doing?

She blinked down at the notification on her phone. Right, Luis. She should’ve anticipated text from him sooner or later, especially considering that she had forgotten to respond to his last text multiple days ago. Oops.

Vanessa: Hi! I’m doing fine. You?

Almost immediately the three little blinking dots indicating that he was typing appeared. They were on screen for quite a long time. Geez, was he writing out a whole essay or something?

Luis: Great! Listen, I wanted to ask you something. I know it’s kind of last minute, but I was thinking about taking a trip to the mall to go Christmas shopping this afternoon, and I was wondering if you possibly wanted to join me? No pressure, of course! I’m sure you’re busy with your job and your kid and everything.

It caught her off-guard. Whatever she was expecting him to say, it wasn’t that. Her immediate gut reaction was to thank him and politely decline. It was all so sudden, she didn’t know if she could handle being out in public amongst so many other people, having to feign normalcy for hours while also evading Luis’s questions. But then she thought about it for a minute, and realised that part of her did want to see Luis, and his mention of Christmas prompted her to check the calendar, and…

  Oh shit, Christmas. It was only a little over two weeks away. Damn, apparently she really hadn’t been keeping track of the days recently.

Christmas was something she hadn’t thought much about in… years, really. The last time she would’ve celebrated it was pre-virus, so… four years ago? Five?

 A shame, because the old Vanessa really, really liked Christmas. She was one of those people who would start singing Christmas songs as soon as November rolled around and would bake enough cookies throughout the season to feed a small neighbourhood.

…‘Course, Glitchtrap had to go and mess that up, too.

But now here she was, free, and the festive holiday was just around the corner. It should’ve filled her with warmth and excitement, but frankly it brought more of a spike of anxiety.

Because it hit her, like a snowball pelted directly at her face, that she didn’t have anything ready.

She hadn’t asked him, but… she got the feeling that Gregory hadn’t experienced many happy Christmases throughout his life, what with jumping from foster home to foster home and even being homeless at times throughout his childhood— Fuck, had he ever been homeless during Christmas before? The thought made her stomach churn. As if him being homeless at any point wasn’t already bad enough.

That settled it, a proper Christmas was in order for them, with gifts and decorations and treats galore. And for Freddy, too; he might enjoy seeing a more domestic Christmas rather than the heavily commercialized version he was probably used to at the Pizzaplex.

But as it currently stood, she had exactly zero of those things. Not even a fake tree to stick in the corner.

That was ultimately what decided it for her. She would go out with Luis that afternoon to shop. Her fingers danced across the keyboard on her screen before she could second guess her decision.

Vanessa: That sounds fun, actually. What time do you want to meet up there?

In true Luis fashion, it took him maybe thirty seconds, tops, before a response came through. The guy must live with his phone in his pocket.

Luis: Does 2:00 work for you? :-)

It was still a couple hours before she would have to leave, so in the meantime, she had something very important to do.

Ask Gregory what he wanted for Christmas.

A simple enough task. However, it was then that something else occurred to her.

  Wait, does he still believe in Santa? Is eleven too old for that?

That would make this conversation considerably more difficult to navigate. Did it bother her that she didn’t know the answer to what should be a pretty surface-level question? Yes, but she’d long since learned that overthinking things like this didn’t benefit anyone, much less herself. Nor would it give her any answers; she had to actually go talk to him. But that would be easy peasy, right?

Finding the kid wasn’t hard, on his days off he was usually in one of two places: in his bedroom drawing or in the living room playing video games. Today it was the latter; she found him sitting on the sofa fully engrossed in Stardew Valley.

She plopped herself down on the sofa and leaned into his side. “Having fun?”

Gregory hummed an affirmation, but didn’t look away from the screen. A moment passed, but then, “Oh, sorry,” he said abruptly. “Did you want to join?”

  “No, I think I just want to watch right now, but thank you.” She smiled. Silently, she watched the boy play his game, wondering how best to broach the subject.

  “So…” she began, clearing her throat. “Christmas is coming soon, huh?”

  “Mhm,” he replied absently, fingers still tapping away at the controller.

Vanessa had had this whole conversation planned in her head. She was going to carefully and tactfully probe the kid to find out whether or not he still believed in ol’ Saint Nick, and depending on his answer, either ask him outright what he wanted or invite him to write a list with her.

What came out of her mouth, however? With zero tact or consideration, she blurted out: “Do you still believe in Santa?”

  Dammit. She fought the urge to facepalm at her own idiocy. The way that she’d phrased the question made it painfully obvious, if he did still believe, that Santa wasn’t real.

Gregory only glanced at her with a snort. “Seriously? What am I, five? Of course I don’t believe in that crap anymore.”

  “Oh thank god,” Vanessa sighed in relief. “I really didn’t want to have to deal with that whole charade.”

  “Yeah well, It’s kind of hard to believe in a magical dude who gives gifts to ‘all the kids,’ when you rarely got jack,” he shrugged. “But why do you ask?”

Vanessa bit back a grimace. She’d… feared as much, but hearing him speak it so nonchalantly still brought a pang to her chest.

  “If that’s the case, I guess I’ll get straight to the point. What do you want for Christmas?” She replied, electing to ignore the rest of his statement.

That finally got Gregory to look away from his game. “What?” He sounded genuinely surprised. “You’re asking me?”

  “Uh, yeah? Unless there’s another Gregory I should know about.”

  “Well I dunno, I just hadn’t really thought about it,” he admitted. But somehow, Vanessa doubted that to be true. What kid didn’t think about Christmas, especially when it’s probably all the kids at school were talking about that time of year. “Plus… I thought we, y’know… didn’t have a lot of spare money.” He added the last part quietly.

   Oh, so that’s what this was about. “Gregory,” she said gently, but firmly. “Listen to me; I appreciate your concern, I really do, but it’s not your job to worry about money, or any other dumb adult stuff, okay? I wouldn’t be asking you this if I couldn’t afford to get you anything,” she assured him. “So without thinking about money or anything else you might be worried about, what would you want for Christmas?”

  “Um…” he appeared to ponder it for a moment. “I guess some new socks?” He ventured to ask. “I don’t have many warmer ones. And maybe a new notebook for school? ‘Cause mine for English class is getting kind of full. Oh! And… maybe some of those granola bars that I like? The ones with the chocolate chips? I mean, If that’s not too much,” he added quickly.

Her face fell. “Gregory, that’s…” That’s all practical stuff, she wanted to say. It was stuff that she would buy him anyways. Instead, though, she swallowed her dismay and said, “…that’s a nice list. Are you sure that’s it?”

He hunched his shoulders, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “Yeah, that’s everything,” he said after a few seconds.

Vanessa stared at the kid—who seemed very interested in a spot of dirt on the rug all of a sudden—not believing his statement for a single moment. But what could she do? It was clear from his body language that he wasn’t willing to divulge further, so she had no choice but to accept his words at face value. “If you’re sure,” she said finally, fighting back a sigh, “but if you think of anything else, feel free to let me know, alright? Speaking of, I’m going to be going out for a few hours this afternoon to do some shopping with Luis, so you’re gonna be here alone with Freddy, okay?”

  “Kay,” he said, unpausing his game and turning his attention back to it, acting as though their prior conversation never happened. “When are you going?”

  “In about…” She checked her phone for the time. “…an hour and a half. I’ll make you some lunch before I leave though. Pizza rolls?”

Vanessa still had a hard time stomaching pizza, but the kid loved it, so it was a staple of their freezer. He nodded enthusiastically. “Yes please.”

Between making lunch and getting ready, the hour flew by, and it wasn’t long before it was time for Vanessa to leave. She wasn’t nearly as anxious about leaving Greg home with Freddy as she once was, especially where the bear had a body now.

The car ride, too, was significantly less stressful than the last time she’d gone to meet up with Luis. Last time she had been riddled by anxieties of how it might go, but now she knew—to a certain extent—what to expect. Not that she was completely without worry (there was always that small ball of dread that rested in her stomach whenever it came to having to be social), this would also be her first time out amongst so many people in one place since… well, since the Pizzaplex was still open. Since Vanny. And of course, if that wasn’t bad enough, it had to be a mall that she was going to, too.

But it was fine. It would be fine, Vanessa told herself. After all, the vibe of the Pizzaplex was completely different from that of the average shopping mall, so it shouldn’t trigger her in that regard. And, she had to remind herself, she wasn’t going alone. Luis would be there, and he’d always been good at distracting her.

Before long, she had arrived at her destination: Hurricane Shopping Centre. It was a decently large mall, with two stories. Luis said he’d be there to meet her at the main entrance, so she steeled her nerves, breathed in, and stepped into the complex.

Immediately, she felt like she’d been flashbanged. There were so many people (or at least it felt like a lot to her), their various chatter and yells of glee from children all overlaid with the cheery Christmas music tinkling through the speakers created a cacophony that assaulted her ears. It was bright, too. So bright. The large windows that framed the entrance let in vast amounts of the afternoon sunlight, reflecting off the polished tiled floor and straight into her retinas—or so it felt. In every possible nook and corner of the shopping centre’s halls hung bright sparkly tinsel and twinkling lights and shiny baubles, in case the Christmas trees and decorative gift boxes in every store window weren't enough to remind you that the holidays were just around the corner.

None of it was unpleasant, per se—come on, she wasn’t the Grinch. It was just… a lot. Vanessa winced, the first twinges of an oncoming headache starting to form inside her skull. She wondered if she could get away with tucking her earbuds in her ears to drown out some of the background noise, until her gaze landed on—quite literally—a sight for sore eyes. 

Luis’s grin so bright it could rival their surroundings. “Ness! Hey!” He called as he weaved his way between the jolly families towards her.

  “Hey! It’s good to see you.” She smiled at him when he finally caught up, hoping that it didn’t look too weary. “I hope I didn’t make you wait for too long.”

  “Nah, not at all,” he was quick to assure her. “I only got here five or so minutes ago myself. Gosh, it’s so great to see you again. How’s it going?”

  “It’s… going alright?” She hesitated. Dammit, it was a lot easier to lie over text. How was she possibly supposed to respond to that question, as since their last meeting she had had multiple crises, meltdowns, and near-death experiences. “…I’ve been busy, but, y'know, I guess that’s life,” she settled on, shrugging awkwardly. “Sorry that I’ve forgotten to keep in touch.”

  “Hey, no, I totally get it.” Luis waved his hand. “My training has been keeping me busy too, so it’ll be nice to get a little break for the holidays.”

It was almost appalling, how much grace and patience Luis had for her. He was a golden retriever of a man, all smiles and wholesome energy and friendliness. Honestly, she was pretty sure that she could punch him in the face and he’d still find a way to effortlessly justify her actions.

  “Your dyed hair looks amazing, by the way. Wish I could’ve told you in person earlier,” Luis then added.

The hair in question was pulled back in a rough ponytail secured by a claw clip. The rainbow hues were slightly faded, as it’d been a few weeks since her last dye session, but they were still more than visible. Adorning her body was a simple pair of jeans and a cream-coloured turtleneck sweater to hide the bruises that still stained her neck and wrists (because those would be awkward to explain away should anybody notice them), as well as some fuzzy boots and a well-loved dark green purse that she’d had since she was a teen.

  “Thanks, I’m glad you think so,” her smile came a bit more naturally now; it was hard to stay anxious around his easy-going demeanour. “So… where did you want to go first?”

  “Dunno!” I have a list of gifts I’d like to pick up, but I’m in no rush. I was thinking we could just poke around for a bit?”

  “That sounds good.” She nodded. “I haven’t been here in a while, so I’ll let you lead the way.”

Their first stop was a collectibles shop, the kind chock full of nerdy paraphernalia; everything from comics to cards to figures to plushies. Luis claimed that he had something specific in mind that he wanted to look for, but Vanessa had a sneaking suspicion that he just wanted to look around himself. Vanessa on the other hand just wanted to peruse for a bit, so they made the decision to split up.

She felt utterly lost—not just because of how cluttered the store was, but because she genuinely had no clue what she was even looking for. Stepping up and down the aisles, her eyes landed upon trinket after toy, each of them being the sort of thing a kid like Gregory might enjoy yet none of them seeming right. Would he like that robot figurine? Or this Pokemon keychain? What about a card game, kids like card games, right? With every item that she picked up and promptly put back, frustration steadily built inside of her. Why was this so difficult? Was she seriously so incompetent that even Christmas shopping was such a monumental task for her?! 

In fact, she was so absorbed in her thoughts, that when Luis slipped up beside her and asked how it was going that she nearly dropped the Rubik’s cube that she was in the process of putting back on the shelf. “How goes it? Find anything yet?” He asked, oblivious to her plight.

She shook her head. “No, it’s just… this is so hard! I have no idea what to even get him.” Her voice sounded almost like a whine.

  “Well, Did you ask him? If he’s anything like I was at his age, surely he’s got a Christmas list half a mile long.” It was a valid and well-meaning question, but something about it ignited the frustration in her.

  “That’s the thing, I don’t know!” She nearly wailed. “I tried asking him, but all he asked for was a couple of practical things, and even then he seemed almost afraid to ask. Like socks. Socks, Luis!” She emphasized, pleading at him. “What kind of kid asks for socks for Christmas?! It’s… I just…” she sighed, shoulders dropping as she looked away, “…the kid has had such a rough life. I just wanna do something nice for him. Give him a proper Christmas, you know?”

She was fully aware that she was overreacting; she knew it as soon as the words left her mouth. In the grand scheme of things, this was such a non-issue. It was silly. But it felt big. Gregory deserved the world. She’d pull the moon out of the sky if he asked. And if she couldn’t give him that then, well, at least she’d get him a handful of gifts that he’d actually like.

Despite the ridiculousness of it all, Luis didn’t laugh at her or call her out for her irrationality, as he had every right to. Instead, he merely appraised her with a gentle look, like he was seeing her in a new light.

  “You really care about this kid, don’t you?” He asked softly. But really, it was more like a statement.

She didn’t bother denying or downplaying it. “Yeah, I do,” she whispered honestly. “Before I found him, I… I was in a really bad place. I really believe he saved my life.” It was a statement truer than then Luis could possibly know, and one that felt way too heavy to have been uttered in a collectibles store of all places. The weight of the admission hung between them for a moment. Even without knowing the true history behind them and the statement, it wouldn’t be hard for Luis to glean what she was alluding to, and by the look on his face, she could tell that he had indeed picked up on it.

She stared at his foot, thoughtfully tapping against the floor, in avoidance of his face as she waited for a response.

  “Tell me a little bit about him,” Luis said unexpectedly. “What kind of stuff does he like?” So it seemed he wasn’t going to comment on her remark—not now, at least. Because Vanessa had a feeling that this conversation wasn’t truly over, only postponed.

She considered the question for a second.  “Well… he really likes video games. I have my old Nintendo console that I set up for him, and he’s always playing it. Sometimes we play it together.” She began, and found herself smiling and becoming more and more animated the more she talked about him. “He really likes drawing, too, he’s super artistic. And he likes space, like stars and planets and all that stuff. Oh! And the Pizzaplex—er, well, Glamrock Freddy specifically, I don’t think he’s a big fan of the others. But Freddy’s, like, his idol. Though I think he already has just about every piece of merch of him ever created.”

  “Then there you go!” Luis replied, spreading his arms. “You know what he likes, so all you have to do is pick out some stuff relating to that and I’m sure he’ll love it.  Like…” he stepped over to one of the adjacent aisles, “…how about this?” He asked, tossing a soft object to her.

Surprised, she fumbled but managed to catch it. It was a plush toy of Toad from Mario, specifically the blue variant. As luck would have it, Blue Toad was Gregory’s go-to character to play as Mario games. He’d started doing it after Vanessa made an off-handed comment once about finding Toad’s voice lines annoying, a fact that Gregory—the little menace that he was—decided to take advantage of.

She turned the toy over in her hands, appraising it. “That’s… perfect, actually,” she acknowledged with a smile, but could feel the warm flush of embarrassment creeping up her face. It seemed so simple and obvious now; she really was overcomplicating this whole thing. Sheepishly, she said, “Thanks, I needed that reality check.”

He brushed it off with a wave of his hand, coming back over to stand beside her. “It’s no problem, I’m glad I could be of help! But seriously, you got this, I’m sure he’ll be happy with whatever you pick out.” Clutched in his hand was a set of colourful glass dice that Vanessa hadn’t noticed until now, which he held up for her to see. “I’m getting these for a friend. But anyway, I think I’m ready to check out, if you are?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I think I’ve seen enough of this store. Let’s go.”

After that debacle, the process of shopping became significantly less intimidating. After paying for their first purchases they hopped from store to store, and steadily did the amount of shopping bags clutched in her hand increase. Of course her main goal was getting stuff for Gregory, but she found it surprisingly fascinating to see the gifts that Luis was buying for his own family and friends. It was like getting a little glimpse into a facet of his life she didn’t really know much about. Vanessa found herself enjoying the outing much more than she had anticipated; even the bright lights and sounds of the mall dimmed into being pleasant rather than overbearing.

She should’ve known things were going too smoothly. Karma never let her off the hook that easily.

The two of them were walking in one of the main hallways of the mall, on their way to the next store when it happened. She heard it before she saw it; the sound of a child beginning to cry. But not the cry of a sulky baby or a bratty kid who wasn’t getting what they wanted, this was a cry of fright. Of fear.

They both froze, and Vanessa’s eyes snapped up, tracing sound back to its source.

A little girl, five or six years old if she had to guess, was crouching beside one of those kiddy rides you find dotted around places like this. She was wearing a red and black plaid dress—the sort every young girl seemed to own at one point in their life for the holidays—and her brown hair was in two smooth braids trailing down her back, with red bows tied at the end of each. Her forehead was pressed against her knees and her arms hugged her legs.

And she was alone. Th realisation hit Vanessa like a frozen stake had pierced her chest, spreading ice outwards from the point of impact and freezing the blood in her veins. Everything felt cold, except for a hot, horrible nausea quickly pooling in her gut. Because the sound, and the sight of it all, it was so terribly familiar.  

How many times had she been in this exact situation? Faced with a lost, terrified child, separated from their parents and alone in a big mall?

How many times had this situation been exactly what she wanted to find?

   Run, was the first thought to surface through her paralyzation. There was no logic, no reasoning in her mind at that moment, just primal fight or flight instincts kicking in. To drop her shopping bags, turn on her heel, and sprint out of this place as fast as she could, no matter how confused or upset it might make Luis. Anything to get away from the sight in front of her and the memories that came with it. But she couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything besides stand there and stare like a deer caught in headlights.

All of this ran through her mind in the span of only a couple seconds, then Luis’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Poor kid, I think she’s lost. Come on, we should go help her.”

   We?

  WE?!

  Oh, no. No no no. Vanessa thought. No way, she was just about the worst person to possibly help in this situation. She couldn’t— she wasn’t—

And yet like her legs, her voice didn’t seem to want to work either, and thus her protests went unvoiced.

  “Why don’t you stay here to keep her company and make sure she doesn’t run off, while I go find a security guard to bring back?” He comtinued, oblivious to Vanessa’s debilitating panic.

To her own shock and dismay, she found herself nodding. It was as if she wasn’t in control of her own body anymore. Not in a Vanny/possession sort of way, in a… dissociative sort of way. Like she was experiencing her life from a bystander’s point of view. 

Luis disappeared with a promise to be back soon, and then it was just her and the kid.

Alone.

At that moment, it was impossible to tell who might’ve been more frightened. The lost kid, or herself.

   Run. Run. Run. The word repeated over and over in her mind like a chant as she stayed rooted to the spot. There was nothing else, the rest of the mall faded away and it was just her and the child in front of her. The fog in her head… the pulse in her ears… the tightness in her throat… the panic in her chest… It was too much.

  I can’t do this. I can’t do this, I can’t do this, I can’t do this I can’t do this Ican’tdothisIcan’tIcan’tIcan’t—

  Can’t you?

The thought was so unexpected that it snapped her out of her spiraling. It didn’t sound like her usual internal dialogue. In fact, it sounded a little bit like Gregory.

Gregory, a child whom she had made, and kept on making, the conscious decision to help. Fuck, if he could see her now… he’d think she was being such a coward.

The ability to choose was something that Vanessa had taken for granted, until it was ripped away from her. In her past, she had made some bad choices. Then bad choices had been made for her. Now she had the ability to choose again, and her choice was to do good. To atone, even the tiniest bit, for the sins committed by her own body.

And right in front of her was the chance to do just that. To prove to the world, to herself, that she could do more with her words and hands than just hurt. She could help.

With her free hand, she clenched it into a fist, then opened it, then turned it over, and then wiggled her fingers. She made the choice to do that, because she was in control over her body now.

Somehow, she mustered up the strength to lift one foot off the ground and place it in front of the other, taking a step. Then she did it again. And again. Impossibly, she slowly but surely made her way towards the child, until she was only a few feet away. The sound of her heart wildly thudding in her ears drowned out everything else, even the child’s stifled cries.

There, she paused, simply staring at the lonely girl. In the back of her mind, she knew that she had to act fast, staring at this kid as she was would quickly become suspicious to bystanders. Hesitantly, she lowered herself down into a crouch, down to the level of the kid, and let her shopping bags rest on the ground around her. Then, she mustered every ounce of strength, of composure, of practice dealing with kids at the Pizzaplex…

She even, in some small capacity, mustered up a bit of Vanny. For everything that Vanny had done… she did know how to talk to kids and get them to trust her. It was a skill that Vanessa could use right about then.

  “Hello there, are you lost?” Her voice came out crackly and uncertain, but the fact that she spoke at all was nothing short of a miracle in her opinion.

The little girl startled, lifting her head and looking around for the source of the noise until her eyes fell upon Vanessa. Still sniffling, with tears welling in her wide brown eyes, she nodded cautiously.

There was a part of Vanessa, a small, but horrible part, one that lingered still in the darkest crevasses of her psyche like an invasive weed that would crop up again and again no matter how many times you’d stomp it out, that at that moment thought about how easy it would be for her to lure this kid. To gain her trust with promises of help or treats or toys. To draw her away from the crowds and prying eyes into some shadowy, hidden nook. To silence her cries with one quick, precise motion. To watch her festive red dress gradually stain a darker crimson.

It was only a fleeting thought. Intrusive thought, her old therapists would have called it. But the knowledge was barely any comfort, the fact that the thought occurred at all was bad enough in her book. Nevermind the fact that she didn’t even have anything remotely weapon-like in her possession either.

The urge to run away was growing inside her again, creating a buzz underneath her skin as if her own skeleton was yearning for escape.

But she didn’t succumb, not to her despair nor cowardly urges. She was in control. She had already made her choice.

Clench, unclench. Vanessa repeated these motions with her hand. They were grounding, reminding her of her autonomy.

Soon, she felt that she had calmed enough to continue speaking, “You must be pretty scared,” she said softly. “But my friend is gone to go look for a security guard, and they’ll be able to help you find your family, okay?”

Another nod, and then the girl started swiping at her tears. Remembering suddenly that she had a packet of tissues in her purse, Vanessa reached in and grabbed one, gently offering it to the kid. She took it.

  “What’s your name?” Vanessa asked, practically running on autopilot as she figured that the best course of action would be to distract the girl—and herself—until assistance arrived.

  “My mommy told me I shouldn’t talk to strangers.” They were the first words the girl had spoken. Her voice was quiet and wobbly, with a slight lisp, but the words had the ring of something that had been ingrained in her and rehearsed.

   Your mom’s a wise woman, Vanessa thought to herself. Outloud she said, “That’s okay, we don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.” That should’ve been the end of the conversation there, but something in Vanessa encouraged her to keep going. In a rare moment of vulnerability, she continued, “But what if I told you about myself, so that way I won’t be a stranger anymore?”

The kid knit her brows together, deeply considering this for a moment, before she nodded for the third time.

This… hadn’t been how she expected this conversation to go. But she did this to herself, so Vanessa leaned her head back, staring at the twinkling lights suspended from the ceiling while pondering on how to proceed. It prompted her to consider things that she hadn’t thought about in ages. Who, in the simplest terms, was she? And how to make that information digestible for a young child? But then, she had to remind herself that this was a little kid she was talking to. It wasn’t that complicated. “Well then, my name is Vanessa. I’m twenty-four years old, my favourite colour is yellow, I like desserts and playing video games, and I used to work at the Pizzaplex,” she listed off. “How’s that? Am I still a stranger now?”

The little girl was staring at her attentively. No longer was she curled up with her knees to her chin, now she was sitting properly with her legs splayed out in front of her.

A minute passed, but then, “My name is Maisy,” the girl—Maisy—said shyly.

  “That’s a very pretty name, It’s nice to meet you, Maisy.” Vanessa smiled at her. “How old are you?”

  “I’m six.” She held up six fingers, as if Vanessa might not know how many six was and needed a visualization.

“That’s a pretty cool age,” Vanessa replied seriously. “I like your dress.”

The kid finally cracked a smile. A small one, yes, but Vanessa still counted it as a win. “Your hair has rainbows.”

  “It does.”

  “Why?”

  “Because rainbows make me happy.”

A contemplative look crossed Maisy’s face and she continued staring at Vanessa’s colourful locks. And then, with an air of absolute decisiveness, told Vanessa, “I’m going to ask Santa for rainbows in my hair,”

  “Is that so?” It took everything in Vanessa to keep a straight face. Dammit, the kid was adorable. “That’s a pretty cool thing to ask for. Are you going to see Santa here at the mall?”

  “Uh huh! That’s why we came to the mall. We were gonna meet Santa... but…” her face crumpled suddenly. “I didn’t mean to get lost!” She burst miserably. “It was an— an accident.”

  “I know you didn’t mean to,” Vanessa tried to placate her.

  “But my mommy said to stay close to her or daddy! And I didn’t listen! But they were in the clothes store for so long picking out clothes for Ayden—that’s my baby brother—and I was really bored and in the window I saw this spaceship—” She pointed at the kiddy ride beside her, “—and it looked really fun so I thought I could come play for a couple minutes and then go back to my family but when I came back they were gone!” She babbled, sniffling. “I got scared and I didn’t know what to do so I came back to the spaceship.”

Vanessa hummed thoughtfully. “Well, I think you were very brave,” she replied. “You did the right thing. You realized that you were lost so you stayed where you were and waited for help. That’s exactly what you are supposed to do when something like this happens.”

Maisy peered up at her hopefully. “You don’t think my mommy is going to be mad at me, ‘cause I didn’t listen?”

  “I think…” she began carefully. Vanessa didn’t know what sort of home environment this kid came from, after all, but she took the gamble and ventured to say, “I think that your mommy is just going to be glad to see you safe.”

Maisy didn’t respond, only rested her chin on knees and let out a pitiful little sigh.

The mood was beginning to take a dive downward again. Desperate to steer the conversation back to something more cheerful, Vanessa racked her brain for a new topic. At some point her goal had shifted from simply “keep the kid company” to “make her smile”.

  “You mentioned you had a baby brother? How many siblings do you have?”

  “Just Ayden,” Maisy answered. “He’s eight months old.”

  “I see. Do you like having a new sibling?”

  “I don’t know.” She cast her eyes downwards. “It’s different. He cries a lot, and it annoys me. And I can’t leave my toys on the floor because he tries to eat it. I know mommy said babies just do these things and they don’t know it’s bad, but it still fruster— frustratates—” Her eyebrows scrunched together in ire at being unable to pronounce frustrates. “—makes me mad. But I also love him. A lot.”

Vanessa nodded along to whatever the kid was saying. She personally didn't get it, she’d grown up an only child and so had no experience with what life is like with a baby in the house. But it was evident that the girl was acting very mature about it all. She had a kind soul, the kind that should be protected at all costs.

  “I have a little brother too,” Vanessa told her. “Only he’s not a baby; he’s eleven. He can also be annoying sometimes, but he’s not a baby, so he doesn’t have an excuse,” she laughed softly. “You sound like a pretty great big sister though, your baby brother is lucky to have you.”

  “Really?” Maisy’s brown eyes sparkled at her. Over the course of their conversation, Maisy had been scooting closer and closer to now. Now, their legs were nearly touching. “Well I think you’re a cool big sister too!”

Vanessa’s breath hitched in her throat. This child, obviously, had no idea how much words like those would mean to her. Anxious, awkward, traumatised her.

Before she could even muster so much as a thank you however, a familiar voice called out. “Ness, hey! I’m back! Sorry, I was gone so long, it took me a minute to locate a security guard.” Luis was striding towards them, an old but kindly looking man wearing a security vest following behind.

Maisy startled and curled back in on herself, shooting an inquisitive look towards Vanessa.

  “It’s okay,” Vanessa assured her. “That’s my friend I told you about, he’s brought help.”

  “‘Ello, little lady,” the security guard said cheerfully, kneeling down in front of Maisy once the two men had reached them. His voice was warm and gentle, with a slight southern drawl. He brought a sort of grandfatherly energy that immediately put her at ease. “I hear you got lost from your family?”

She nodded shyly.

  “What’s yer name?”

  “Maisy.”

  “Well, Miss Maisy, not to worry! My name’s Bob, and I’m a security guard, which means it’s my job to help folks like you. What we’re going to do is, I’m going to take you over there—” He pointed a wrinkled finger towards a telephone on the wall opposite them in the space between stores a couple down, “—and we’re going to send out an announcement over that there speaker system telling your family where to come find you, alright?”

A moment of hesitation, then: “Okay!” She got back to her feet and smoothed out her dress before, surprisingly, taking a hold of the security guard’s outstretched hand.

  “That’s a mighty fine thing you two did,” Bob said, turning back to Luis and Vanessa; the latter of whom was just getting back up off the floor herself and regathering her shopping bags.

  “I’m glad we could help,” Luis answered 

  “It was nothing,” Vanessa chimed in softly. But that wasn’t true. To her, it was everything. She’d just helped someone. A child. It was tangible proof of her growth, of her control, of her free will. That was huge.

  “Well then, I better get this little lady back to her parents. He tipped his cap at them. “You folks have a happy holiday, now.” He turned to begin to leave, but Maisy kept her feet firmly in place to stop them.

  “Wait!” She entreated. “I need to say bye to my new friend first!”

Bob nodded at her to go ahead.

  “Bye, Vanessa!” Maisy chirped with a shy wave.

Smiling, the blonde waved back. “Bye, Maisy, It was nice to meet you! I hope you have a good Christmas.”

The two then began to make their way over to the PA system, and Vanessa was surprised to feel a twinge of sadness when they’d left. Somehow, she’d gotten sort of attached to the kid during their less-than-ten-minute conversation. Stronger than that, though, was a sense of pride in herself. It was a big step she’d just taken, and even if it’d taken a bit of coaxing from Luis at first, she still did it, and that small victory was enough to put her on cloud nine.

  “What’s got you so happy all of a sudden?” Luis questioned, nudging her shoulder.

  “Nothing in particular,” Vanessa lied, attempting to school her expression back into something more neutral. It didn’t quite work. “Guess I’m just feeling the holiday cheer.”

He beamed back at her, and shared a look that seemed to last a fraction longer than it needed too. He broke the stare. “Good, that’s uh—” he cleared his throat. “That's great, I’m happy to hear it. So, uh… did you have another store in mind you wanted to go to, or…?”

She looked at him strangely. He was acting… weird. But his body language didn’t convey anything other than a slight nervousness.

   I guess we’re both hiding something.

She put it out of her mind for the time being, deciding it wasn’t her job to play detective; she’d be a hypocrite if she tried to pry.

So instead, she opened her mouth to respond to his question, but her stomach responded with an audible growl before she could.

He raised his eyebrows at her and let out a chuckle. “Seems like your stomach has its own opinion!”

Smothering her embarrassment, she attempted a laugh too. “Sorry…”

  “What, for being hungry?” He shot her an incredulous look. “Don’t be ridiculous. “Besides, I’m getting pretty hungry too. What do you say we head to the food court?”

So they did. After taking a quick walk around the perimeter of the court to assess their options, they both decided to get paninis. While waiting in the line, Vanessa discreetly pulled her credit card out of her wallet and slipped it under the cuff of her sleeve. So, when it came time to pay for their orders, she was able to flick the card directly into her hand and tap it against the reader before Luis could so much as pull out his wallet.

  “Hey, I was gonna pay for that!” He protested.

  “I said I owed you, remember? For the coffee?” She reminded him as she grabbed their receipt and stepped off to the side to wait for their food. “We’re even now.”

  “But this costs more than those coffees did.”

  “So?” She shrugged. “And don't forget, you brought me that Chinese food too when Greg was sick.”

  “That doesn’t count, it was a gift.” A sly grin then appeared on his face. “You may think we’re even, woman, but nay, this means war.”

  “A war of… generosity?”

  “Aye.” He nodded solemnly. “The fiercest battle this land has seen for centuries.”

  “Oh no,” she deadpanned. “However shall I survive?”

Luis was the first to crack, but they were both still snickering by the time their order number was called.

They took their trays and managed to find a free table in the crowded court. Vanessa was glad to get to put her shopping bags down for a minute.

Her food smelled so good. The scents of juicy chicken with nutty pesto and fresh mozzarella and tomatoes pressed between two slices of crispy sourdough bread was heavenly, so she didn’t wait any longer before digging in. It tasted just as good as it smelled.

…And also burnt her tongue.

Wincing, she washed it down with a cold swig of lemonade that she had ordered with it.

  “Is it hot?”

Vanessa turned her attention back to the man sitting across from her. “Maybe,” she admitted with a sheepish smile. “It’s really good though. You should give yours a try.”

She watched him pick up his sandwich—a chipotle something-or-other—and take a bite, to which he nodded approvingly about.

They ate in silence for a while, which Vanessa didn’t mind one bit. It was nice to decompress after such a hectic afternoon whilst enjoying some good food and good company.

She had just taken a bite out of the second half of her sandwich when Luis spoke up again. “So! How’s life been going for you? Get up to anything fun lately?”

   Oh. Oh no.

She really should’ve seen this coming. It was a perfectly normal and reasonable question for most people. For her? It was equivalent to a minefield, and had to be dealt with with just about the same level of caution. She sputtered something out about it being “same old, same old,” but pleasant and “going well.”

It was, of course, all fabricated.

She hated this web of lies she had to spin, hated having to lie with a smile on her face while he gladly opened up to her. Still, more than that she hated the idea of being “found out,” and the repercussions that would follow. So, vague anecdotes and grateful conversation redirects it was. Keeping them safe triumphed over anything else, conscience be damned.

  “How’s your new job?” Luis inquired next.

Vanessa visibly grimaced. “About that…” It wasn’t fear of sensitive information that caused her hesitation this time, it was shame. She thought about maybe lying about this, too, but Luis had already noticed the expression on her face. No escape. “So I kind of maybe got… fired,” she admitted, looking anywhere but at him.

He raised his eyebrows. “Shit. What happened?— I mean, if you don’t mind me asking.”

  “I don’t mind. It’s…” she sighed, swirling her straw around in her cup. “It’s pretty dumb, actually. I used up all my sick days taking care of Gregory when he was ill, and then I—” nearly died then had a mental breakdown, “—guess I caught whatever illness he had, and because I didn’t have any sick days left I didn’t bother calling in, so they counted it as me skipping shifts and gave me the boot,” she explained in half-truths.

He gave a low whistle. “That’s— wow, that sucks. ” Vanessa couldn’t have put it any better herself. “And what a horrible time for that to happen too, right before the holidays. What’s your plan now?”

  “Try to find employment wherever I can,” she answered glumly. “Rent isn’t cheap, and neither is taking care of a whole-ass other human being. I sent off a couple resumes this morning, so I’m hoping I’ll hear back soon.”

He frowned at her. Was that… disappointment, she saw? “You should’ve let me cover the food, then!”

  “What? No, it’s fine! Really,” she brushed him off quickly. “I’m not doing that bad for money.” Was that true? Not exactly… but what’s another lie to add to the pile she’d already told today? She shoved another bite of food into her mouth to avoid having to elaborate further.

The two of them fell back into silence for a minute, but then, “Hey, you know your way around computers, right?” Luis asked suddenly. “You went to school for game dev? And I’m sure you were exposed to all kinds of tech at the Pizzaplex.”

The completely off-topic question caused her to choke a little. “Um… I guess? Kinda? What makes you ask?” She replied carefully after swallowing.

He drummed his fingers on the table, looking thoughtful. “My sister owns a computer repair shop here in town. She works solo, but has seen an uptick in demand lately, so she’s looking for somebody to man the front of the shop while she focuses on the actual repair side of things,” he explained. “I’m sure your own knowledge in computers would be an asset. I can get you in touch with her.”

  “Is this nepotism?” She joked, trying to hide how much this idea actually appealed to her. Would it be awkward having her friend—whom she’d had a complicated history with—‘s sister that she’s never met before as her boss? Probably. But the prospect of employment at a relatively low-stakes job outweighed any of those reservations.

  “Nah. More like a classic case of the hidden job market in action.” He shrugged. “She was going to wait until after the holidays to put out job listings, but I think she’d be glad to avoid all that. I can’t make any promises of course, she’d still want to interview you, but what do you say?”

Vanessa took a second to absorb the information. It sounded almost too good to be true, but Luis wouldn’t lie to her—at least not about something like this. “I say,” she answered carefully, “that you are an absolute lifesaver. Yeah, I’d absolutely be interested in that. Thank you so much!” She gushed, a weight lifting from her shoulders. At the same time, another pang of guilt shot through her. Luis was being so kind, and she couldn’t even be honest with him about her day-to-day life.

  Survival, she had to remind herself. She was doing all of this for their survival.

Luis grinned at her. “Great! I’ll talk to her sometime this week, and let you know what she says.”

After that, the duo finished up their meal. They debated popping into a couple more stores before heading out, but both agreed that they were pretty wiped. So, they made their way back to the entrance of the mall, now with evening dusk showing through the windows rather than bright sunlight.

  “It was good seeing you, Ness,” Luis said warmly.

  “Yeah,” Vanessa agreed truthfully. Despite the ups and downs, she honestly had a pretty great afternoon. Better than what she had been anticipating. “And thank you so much again for all your help today with, well… everything.”

  “It was nothing.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Hey, listen, I was thinking… I’m done with my EMS training now for a few weeks, and I’m sure all the kids get out of school soon as well, so sometime during this winter break we could maybe plan another outing? And you could bring Gregory?” He inquired. “I’d like to meet him.”

She considered this proposal. The idea sounded appealing, but… “I don’t know, I’d have to talk to him. He’s a bit…” she fumbled for the right word, “…iffy, around other adults.”

Luis nodded emphatically. “No worries, it was just an idea. If it’s not something you guys are comfortable with then—”

She cut off his ramblings. Sometimes, he was almost too considerate. “Like I said, I’ll talk to him. I’m sure we can figure something out. Besides, it could be a good opportunity for him to step outside of his comfort zone.”

He beamed. “Great! Let me know either way.”

  “I will.” Then the two stood there awkwardly, neither of them wanting to make the first move to leave. Vanessa cleared her throat. “I really should be heading out now, so I’ll see you lat—”

  “And leave you to walk back to your car in the dark alone?” He shook his head with a smile. “Sorry, not a chance.”

She smiled. “I suppose I won’t say no to the company.”

Finally they bid their goodbyes, wishing each other a Merry Christmas, and Vanessa made her way home. 

She left the gifts in the car, not wanting Gregory to catch a glimpse of anything. She could bring them in and hide them away once the kid had gone to bed. Almost as soon as she unlocked the front door and stepped inside did Gregory poke his head into the hallway to greet her.

  “Hey! You’re finally back!” He exclaimed. A mischievous smile grew on his face, and Vanessa realised exactly where this was about to go. “Did you have fun on your da—”

  “Finish that sentence and I’m turning around and bringing all the gifts I just bought for you back to the store, do not test me, kid.”

Chapter Text

It wasn’t like anxiety and stress were unfamiliar emotions to Vanessa. In fact, they were almost like old friends to her, though not the good kind. Or like a blanket to wrap around her shoulders that only served to weigh them down, without any of the comfort or warmth. And even with that familiarity, it didn’t make them any easier to cope with.

The source of her worries? A job interview.

That alone wouldn’t normally have stressed her out almost to the point of nausea.

But the reality was that there was so, so much hinging on this job opportunity.

The main being finances. Even with her monthly allowance from social services for taking care of Gregory, their funds were quickly dwindling, not at all helped by the onset of the holidays. The livelihood of her family depended on her finding employment— and finding it fast. Not just that, but she would be interviewed by Luis’s sister, whom she’d never met before. This added a whole new layer of stress; not only was she trying to impress a potential employer, she also had to give a good first impression of herself to her friend’s family.

But the biggest source of anxiety? If she couldn’t prove stable finances before their next social services check-in…

That would be grounds for Gregory getting taken away.

She hadn’t mentioned that fact to him—because the last thing she wanted was to give him something else to worry about. But she suspected that he was aware of it regardless. There was a certain tension in his shoulders, and panic in his eyes whenever the topic of money was even so much as hinted towards.

It went without saying, but him getting sent away was not an option. At all. The idea wouldn’t, couldn’t even be humoured for a moment. She’d promised him that he wasn’t going anywhere anymore that he didn’t explicitly want to. She’d sooner fake their deaths and live out of their truck as fugitives than let him get dragged back into that godforsaken system.

So, to sum it up, this was quite possibly the most critical job interview of her (albeit short) life.

She ran through in her head for the umpteenth time what scarce information Luis was able to tell her about the job. It was a computer repair shop owned and operated solely by his older sister, Lola. Lola was looking for somebody to “run the front of the shop.” Which, to Vanessa, sounded like a sales associate type of role. And that was it. No proper job description, no information about pay or hours… Nothing.

Well, there was one more thing. Luis had passed along Vanessa’s contact information for her, and received a single text from Lola. No introduction, no professional greeting or even so much as a simple “hello.” A date, time, and address for her to come in for an interview. That was all that the message contained.

So, you know, not intimidating at all.

…Suffice to say, it didn’t give Vanessa a very great impression of the character of her prospective employer/friend’s sister. But dammit, at this point she’d accept a job mopping the floors of Hades’ Palace itself so long as it meant a paycheck.

If there was one solace in it all, not only was it her interview this afternoon, but it was also Gregory’s last day of school before winter break. So, whether today had a good or bad outcome, at least she had nearly three weeks together with Greg to look forward to. Assuming they had that long.

She shook her head, as if to physically reset her brain like it was an Etch-a-Sketch, and instead channeled her anxious energy into preparing for her interview. One thing at a time.

The morning flew, and before she knew it, it was time and she’d arrived at her destination. The place looked small, but well-kept. Situated in a strip mall between a Korean grocery store and a massage clinic, It had a cream-coloured facade and planter boxes that lined the sidewalks—though nothing was currently growing in them on account of the winter weather. A hanging sign over the door read “Cabrera’s Computer Repair”—confirming that she was in the right place.

The clock in her dashboard had said that it was 12:57 when she’d left the vehicle. Her interview was at 1:00, so she’d better not waste any more time loitering around outside. Goodness knows the last thing she needed was to be late.

  “So you’re Vanessa,” A blunt, feminine voice greeted her as soon as the door had shut behind her.

The shop was relatively small, longer than it was wide. Shelves full of electronics lined the walls on either side of her, with a counter at the far side. Leaning casually against this counter was the sole occupant of the shop and source of the voice—whom Vanessa deduced must be Lola.

The family resemblance to Luis was definitely there, she had the same umber skin and dark curly hair—although hers was pulled back into a braid that reached her mid-back. She was on the shorter side, a good few inches shorter than Vanessa was, but had a much more shapely body. She was dressed simply in jeans and a yellow button-up with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and a paisley bandana sat atop her head. And she was not smiling. Just looking her up and down with folded arms. Assessing. The scrutiny in her gaze gave Vanessa an uncomfortable prickly feeling.

Intimidated, was her initial reaction to the woman. Not only because of the way she was looking at her, but because of the presence Lola had. She was everything Vanessa wasn’t. Petite, gorgeous, confident… even the way she was leaning against the counter had a certain graceful ease to it that Vanessa could only dream of possessing.

She realised after a moment that she hadn’t responded to the woman’s comment and instead had only been staring. “Um.” She snapped her jaw shut, feeling her cheeks warm, then cleared her throat and forced what she hoped was a friendly smile onto her face. “Right, yes, that’s me. It’s nice to meet you.”

Lola pushed herself off the counter and strutted over. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said.

Vanessa’s anxiety flared again. It was getting progressively harder to maintain the smile on her face. “Oh, is… that so?” She replied awkwardly, completely unsure as to what the correct answer to that was supposed to be. It was then that Vanessa registered the lack of chairs or any sort of typical interview setup. There was a door behind the counter… maybe they were going back there?

  “Well,” Lola “I suppose we should get started. Can you operate a cash register and transaction. system?”

  “What—?” They were getting into it? Just like that?

No, this wouldn’t do, she couldn’t let herself be caught off-guard. Vanessa swiftly recollected herself and her words. “I mean— yes.”

  “Greet customers and answer their questions?”

  “If I am given the knowledge to answer those questions, then yeah.” She shrugged.

  “Clean and organize?”

  “Yes.”

  “Any experience when it comes to tech stuff?”

  “Some. I went to school for game development and worked with technology a lot at the Pizzaplex.”

  “Good enough.” Lola nodded. “Come on, I’ll show you around, then get you set up behind the counter and see how you do for a couple hours.”

  “Uh— I’m sorry, what?”

  “I believe the best way to assess somebody’s ability is through actual on-the-job testing, not a bunch of pointless interview questions that most people just—excuse the language—bullshit their way through,”  Lola explained with a smile that somehow put Vanessa even less at ease. “You’ll get paid for your time, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she continued after a second or two of Vanessa’s baffled staring.

  “Oh, uh— y-yeah that’s fine,” she finally nodded, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. Dimly, she remembered her resume, freshly printed and tucked in a folder, sitting now apparently uselessly in her purse. Her brain was still trying to catch up to the reality of the situation. A barely two minute conversation, and already all her careful preparation had gone out the window.

  “Right then, follow me.” She gestured for Vanessa to follow. 

Flatly—almost uninterestedly—she started by showing Vanessa around the main room that they were in. There wasn’t much that she could point out that Vanessa hadn’t already noticed, but one thing she did learn was that, in addition to repairs, Lola also took in old electronics to fix-up for resell, which explained all the devices lining the walls.

Then she was brought behind the counter and through the door into a new room. A long workdesk—strewn with what looked to be parts for a computer tower—lined one wall, and a pegboard hung with various tools and notes hung above it. To the right was another smaller desk, this one with a laptop sitting on top and a filing cabinet underneath, presumably for the more business-y side of things. Along the rest of the walls were shelving units, each filled with bins and supplies all meticulously labelled and organized.

It was clear even from just this first glance that Lola had been doing this gig for a while, and that she was extremely competent in it. She moved around the room with ease and familiarity, everything neatly organized and in its place. This was her domain, and Vanessa couldn’t help but feel like an intruder.

…Frankly, she couldn’t help but feel like an intruder in any part of Lola’s presence. It was a feeling she’d had ever since the moment she’d stepped into the door, steadily growing until it was now impossible to ignore. She didn’t know how, didn’t know why, but for some reason completely unbeknownst to her, Lola did not like her, and wasn’t making any effort to hide the fact either. What Vanessa could have possibly done to tick her off within the first five seconds of meeting, she had no idea. But it would appear that she would be stuck here for at least another couple hours, so what could she do besides just suck it up?

Thus, she got situated behind the counter, and got to work. The job was… fine? A little boring, but not bad. It was just greeting customers, giving them quotes for repairs or trade-ins (Lola had helpfully left a binder with price estimates for different sorts of jobs, to Vanessa’s relief. The less she had to directly ask her about, the better), and hand out any repaired electronics to their owners when they returned. Nothing exciting, but then again, it didn’t have to be. (Goodness knows Vanessa had had enough of “exciting” jobs in her life.) It just had to pay the bills. Throughout it all, Lola would often be lingering nearby, surveying her work. Never saying anything, unless she absolutely had to, or Vanessa had a question she needed answered; only watching silently.

It unsettled Vanessa, her very presence potently disquieting. It was bearable at first, but as the day dragged on, the feeling of her judgemental gaze on her itched at Vanessa like some horrible insect crawling down her spine, setting her persistently on edge.

When it had been a while with no customers coming in, Vanessa took it upon herself to tidy the counter and surrounding area a little. Anything to kill some time and distract herself from the discontent nagging at her and the watching eyes.

The silence, and tension in the air, was so thick you could slice it.

She went to adjust the mat in front of the door, and when doing so, caught a glimpse of Lola’s face in the reflection of the glass door. She was frowning at her.

Vanessa had tried to make this work. Tried to ignore the looks and the judging and the scorn but she just… couldn’t anymore. She snapped, turning around to face the woman who so obviously hated her. “Oh come on, I’m not blind. I see the way you look at me. If you have a problem with me, just say it.”

The fact that she’d just talked back to her potential boss didn’t even worry Vanessa at that moment. She was exhausted, and couldn’t handle another second of… whatever this was.

Without any hint of indignation or even surprise however, Lola stared back. Without missing a beat, she answered simply, “I’m trying to figure out your deal.”

  “My… deal?” Vanessa repeated uncomprehendingly.

  “Yes.” She looked at Vanessa like she was slow. “Your deal.”

Vanessa started, mouth agape, waiting for her to elaborate. And for a long few seconds, she didn’t.

  “My brother is quite fond of you,” she said, as if that was supposed to answer anything. “You know, if it wasn't for the fact he specifically asked, I wouldn’t have agreed to bring you in for an interview.”

Nope, that was it, she wasn’t dealing with this crap anymore. She wasn’t going to just stand around while she got judged and insulted any longer. “Fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Vanessa fumed, and snatched at the handle of the door before that woman could say anything else, because she didn’t trust herself to not come to blows. “Well, if you want me to leave so badly, then I can see myself out—”

  “No, stay,” Lola insisted. “We’re here now, so we might as well have this discussion.” Then, to Vanessa’s surprise, she stepped over to the window and flipped the sign to say “closed,” despite there still being at least an hour and a half left to her usual operating hours. So whatever “this discussion” was about had to be serious.

Although reluctant, Vanessa heeded her words, and took a deep breath to reset herself before she said anything else she would regret. “Fine. But I need answers. What the hell did I ever do to you?”

Something in Lola’s tone shifted. Still laced in vitriol, but had taken on a confused edge. “You really don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”

  “Uh, no, clearly not?!”

 “I might as well start at the beginning then.” She started pacing. “I’m not sure how much you’re aware, or what he’s told you, but Luis had it rough growing up. He was seen as the ‘weird kid’—” she said with finger quotes, “—he got bullied for it, and didn’t have many friends. I think things got better for him in college, but he still confessed to feeling like an outsider.”

  “I’m… sorry to hear that?” Vanessa said carefully, unsure of where she could possibly be going with this. “I get what it’s like to feel that way, and it’s nice that you’re concerned about your brother, but I really don’t get what this has to do with me?”

  “Because,” Lola emphasized, “then he met you. And honestly? I think those weeks were some of the happiest I’d ever seen him. You’d think that the sun shone out of you from the way he talked about you. Not to overstep, but my brother...the migajero that he is...was absolutely smitten with you, anybody with a pair of eyes could see it.”

Vanessa didn’t know how to reply to that, or what the strange feeling in her stomach was at hearing it said out loud. “I’m… aware of that,” is what she settled on with a look that was somewhere between an awkward smile and a grimace.

Lola seemed to wait for Vanessa to elaborate on the subject. When she didn’t, she only made a “hm,” sound and carried on. “Then overnight, everything changed. He stopped talking about you the same way, and every time I talked to him he seemed depressed, or like there was something else on his mind. I assumed that you’d rejected him or something. But things just kept progressing. He changed jobs, stopped visiting as often... Finally, one night I got him to confide in me. He claimed that something was wrong with you. That you ‘weren’t alright,’ and that you needed help. He almost seemed possessed by the concept. Frankly, I told him to forget about you. That he deserved so much better than a woman who led him on and played with his feelings only to turn around and bring him so much misery. But no, he wouldn’t hear any of it. He was fixated on the idea of ‘saving’ you. He even,” she stopped her pacing to fix Vanessa with the coldest glare she had yet, “told me that you threatened to harm him.” A pointed pause followed that accusation, like she was waiting for the blonde to chime in with a defense or denial. Vanessa had neither, only a cold dread settling into the pit of her stomach that she was finally being found out. “I told him I was going to call the cops on you. Lu didn’t take that well, I think it led to the biggest argument we’d ever had. And believe me, we bickered a lot as kids.”

The few seconds until Lola continued felt like an eternity, while Vanessa did her best to conceal the panic rushing within her, thoughts running a mile a minute. “I was almost glad when I found out he’d been fired from the Pizzaplex. I was hoping that that’d finally be what forced him to reevaluate his life and forget about you. And in some ways, it was. He’s completely changed careers—and seems much happier in his new line of work. I don’t think he ever really wanted to work with computers. If you couldn’t tell, tech kind of runs in the family, and I think he was feeling the pressure from our folks to carry on the tradition. But in any case, I really thought he’d moved on. Then, bam, after almost two years, you reappear out of nowhere. And it’s like nothing ever happened. I don’t know what game you’re playing at here. You’ve clearly fooled him; think you got him wrapped around your finger, don’t you? But you won’t fool me.”

  “Wait, wait— hold on a second, what are you…” Vanessa held out her hands in front of her as if to physically halt the conversation while her brain tried to catch up. Out of everything Lola could have said, every accusation she could have made, somehow this was quite possibly the least expected turn of events, and she couldn’t help the deep sense of relief that washed over her at the fact that at least it wasn’t Vanny that she was being confronted about. “Are you calling me a vamp?!” An unbridled snort of disbelief escaped her because of just how wrong the concept was.

 “Is this funny to you?” Lola asked sharply.

Vanessa sobered up instantly. As incorrect as the accusations may be, they were still serious, and needed to be treated as such. “No! No, it’s just… you’ve got this all wrong. I— it’s a long story, you wouldn’t understand…” she trailed off, recognizing that she had no good way to defend herself.

  “Then help me understand. I think you owe me at least that much.”

The two women stared each other down, until Vanessa broke the tension with a long, resigned sigh. “Yeah, you’re right, you’re absolutely right.” She fidgeted with her fingers, wondering just how she could possibly provide an adequate enough explanation.

Honestly, the whole conversation was a disquieting reminder of just how far her impact had spread. How Vanny’s, and her own, actions had caused a ripple effect that affected people she never even stopped to consider before. How many? She couldn’t help but wonder. How many lives has she, directly or indirectly, impacted for the worse? It could very well be in the hundreds. It was a thought that made her stomach churn.

  “First of all, I want to make one thing clear. There’s nothing—and never was anything—more than just friendship between me and your brother. So whatever notion you have about me ‘leading him on’ you can go ahead and drop, because that was never my intention. Ever.” She really couldn’t stress that aspect enough. “I… was in a bad situation,” she said tiredly as she rubbed her forearms, being as vague as she felt she could get away with. “I don’t really want to get into it, and frankly it’s not really any of your business either. But I said and did things out of fear that I never wanted to do, and if I had my time back I never would have done. That doesn’t make it okay, I’m well aware of that. I just want to make it clear that it was never done on purpose. This is a conversation I’ve already had with Luis as well.” When Lola didn’t seem to have any rebuttals to this, she went on, “Secondly… Luis isn’t a kid you know. You may be older, but he’s still a grown adult who can make his own decisions about his life. He’s not as naive as you’re making him out to be, and he’s certainly not an idiot. He doesn't need you fighting his battles for him.”

Immediately, Vanessa realised she had overstepped, and had probably just reignited the animosity between them. Lola looked at her with an expression that could only be described as outrage. The blonde opened her mouth to stammer out an apology, when suddenly Lola’s face softened, and she looked away almost… sadly? “Yeah…” she said with a low exhale. “Yeah, I know that. But knowing doesn’t make it any easier to swallow. Seems like just yesterday he was toddling around in diapers. Can you blame a girl for looking out for her little brother though?”

If there was one thing that Lola could have said to dispel what lingering resentment Vanessa held, it was that. Because Vanessa knew how that would feel. Maybe she should still feel angry; she had just been slighted and scorned and berated, after all.

But deep down she knew that, if their positions were swapped and she had reason to believe that somebody was taking advantage of Gregory…

Lola’s behavior would appear merciful in comparison.

“No,” she admitted ruefully, shaking her head as she leaned against the counter beside the shorter woman. “You’re right, I can’t. I’d feel the same way in your position.”

Then, a silence fell between the two. Not necessarily a comfortable one, but it was at the very least free of the suffocating tension that had permeated the air before.

  "That you 'weren't alright' and that you needed help..." Vanessa couldn't help but fixate on that line in particular, mulling it over in her head. It was the same sort of language that Luis had used in his emails... But what exactly did he mean by it? How was he trying to do that? Actually, what did he even think he was trying to save her from? There was no way he knew about the virus... right? No, no, that was impossible. He had believed her when she told him the whole "abusive boyfriend" story, hadn't he? But then, Glitchtrapped had seemed quite keen on "getting rid" of him...

Ugh, it was all so confusing! She hated this... this weird tangle of uncertainty and secrets and lies that was woven between them, and wished she could just ask him about it directly, but that was off the table for obvious reasons.

  No, he couldn't have known. Vanessa decided that was her final answer, shoving all other notions to the back of her head. Because, if he did... if he had even the slightest clue about what she'd done... he would want nothing to do with her.

  “You were right about one thing, though,” she said suddenly, a self-deprecating sort of smile tugging at her mouth. “He does deserve better than me. Your brother is one of the kindest, sweetest men I’ve ever met. Honestly, I don’t know why he likes me so much...” That last part she added quietly, more so just thinking out loud than anything.

  “I can see why he does.”

She snapped her head up, convinced she'd misheard. “What?”

  “You know, I wanted to hate you,” Lola admitted. “I came into this meeting convinced that you were some psycho using my brother for your own benefit. But you’re just so…” she appeared to struggle to find the word she was looking for, “…so normal!”

  “Normal?!” Vanessa nearly shrieked, trying (and failing) to choke back laughter once more. “That’s the word you went with?”

  “What? I thought it was applicable.” She shrugged with a smile. A genuine smile, not like those vitriolic ones from before. And ah, there finally was the family resemblance. She smiled just like Luis.

It suited her better, Vanessa thought. Her prior anger she had worn like a cheap Halloween mask: ill-fitting and distorted her features. A smile, however, she wore with the same grace and ease that she presented the rest of herself with.

And then, to her utter surprise, Lola started laughing too, joining Vanessa in her amusement and finally shattering through the last of the tension between them. It wasn’t even really funny, but it would seem that the ridiculousness of the whole situation was finally catching up with them.

Eventually, the two contained themselves again. Lola turned to her, a slight flush of embarassment tingeing her cheeks as she admitted, “Listen, I’m sorry, I’ve been an ass. Can we start over? I’d like to get to know you properly."

Vanessa waved her hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. It’s all good.” Somehow, she got the feeling that this would soon become nothing more than an inside joke between them. Despite it all, Lola seemed like a nice woman.

  “Promise me one thing, though.” A bit of her prior severity had returned to Lola’s tone.

  “What’s that?”

  “That Luis never hears of this discussion.”

  “Oh god.” Vanessa covered her mouth, the mere idea of it causing her to wince. She’d sooner chew off her own arm than deal with the awkwardness that would wrought. “Deal." At a loss for what else to say, her eyes drifted to the clock on the wall, the time acting as a reality check for her. "Oh, but if we’re done here, I really should get going. My kid’s probably home from school by now, so—”

  “Whoa whoa whoa, hold on a moment, did you just say— you have a kid?” With one word, Vanessa apparently had flipped the dynamic of the whole conversation around, and for once Lola was the one who was left flabbergasted.

  “Not biologically!” Amended Vanessa quickly, cringing when she imagined what sorts of thoughts would be running through Lola’s mind about her character. Especially after the discussion they’d just had about her presumed dynamic with her brother. “That’s— no. God, no. He’s— he’s a foster. Honestly more like a brother than ‘my kid’. It’s a long story.”

  “You seem to have a lot of long stories,” Lola pointed out, and Vanessa suppressed the urge to say: “don’t I know it.” “But shit, girl, if I’d known that, I wouldn’t have sprung this test shift on you like that.”

  “What? Oh, no, it’s fine. He’s eleven, so he’s okay on his own for a bit, and school’s only just finished for the day anyway. Plus, I already sent him a message letting him know I’d be later than expected,” she rambled out an explanation.

  “Gotcha. He’s got his own phone then?”

  “No, actually. He—” Vanessa softly laughed again, thinking about his antics. “The kid’s kind of insane. You know those novelty watches they sold at the Pizzaplex? Yeah, he somehow managed to homebrew one of those to run regular apps. So I can text him with my phone, and he can read and respond through his watch.”

  “Seriously?” Lola raised a brow. “Where’d he learn to do that?”

  “I have no idea! The little punk doesn’t even own his own computer, he stole my laptop to do it.”

  “Damn, maybe I should be giving this job to him instead of you.”

Vanessa snorted. “Yeah, because I’m sure that’s exactly what—” Her eyes widened. “Wait, did you say I got the job?”

  “Did I not mention that already?” She sounded genuinely apologetic. “Oh, yeah, you’ve got the job. I’m going to be closing soon for the holidays, but you’ll be on the schedule starting after New Year’s. I’ll send you the money later this evening for the time you worked today as well.” She then rattled off expected hours and the starting salary she’d be receiving. A quick bit of mental math, and Vanessa estimated that it would be enough for them to scrape by with. So that coupled with the social security cheques, they should be okay. Would be okay. Finally.

She went on, “Since you have some knowledge with computers, later on I can also start training you to help with repairs if you’d like. Having somebody more knowledgeable than I in the programming side of things would be a great help. In fact…” Without further explanation, she then turned and disappeared into the back room. Vanessa heard sounds of rummaging, and then a moment later she reappeared with a relatively flat, nondescript cardboard box in hand. She held it out to Vanessa. “For you.”

Baffled, Vanessa took the box and lifted the lid. Inside was a laptop, the lower-end sort that a lot of school-aged kids use, along with some other mystery objects wrapped in bubble wrap.

  “According to the guy who brought it in to sell, it’s got a cracked screen and a few stuck keys. Normally I wouldn’t advise people to do these sorts of repairs at home, but you say that you’ve worked on the Glamrocks before? So, I think you can handle this. I’ve included most of the replacement parts it should need in the box as well. Get it fixed up, and you’re ready to help me with repairs.”

Vanessa looked at her in amazement. “And you’re just… giving it to me?” Even with the fixes it needed, it would have to be worth at least a couple hundred dollars.

  “Consider it a peace offering. And hey, since you said your kid didn’t have his own laptop, you could give it to him when it’s done.”

  “I… wow, I don’t even know what to say.” Vanessa breathed, shaking her head at the box. She tucked it under her arm. “Thank you, thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me. You won’t regret hiring me, I promise.”

  “Well, I suppose that remains to be seen, huh?” She smiled again, then extended her hand for a shake. “I look forward to working with you, Ness.”

  “I’m home!” Vanesssa sang as she stepped into the warm glow of their entryway, heart feeling light as a snowflake. Booming footsteps that she had long gotten used to drew nearer as Freddy appeared in the hall to greet her, as per usual.

  “Hello Vanessa! How did your interview go?” He asked cheerfully.

  “It went good— great, even. I got the job,” she smiled as she stamped the snow off her boots. She then looked around. “Where’s Gregory?”

  “He…” Freddy faltered. “He has been acting strange ever since he got home from school today, and has not come out of his room since. I tried inquiring as to what the matter was, and he insisted that it was nothing. But I do not quite believe…”

  “…That he is being completely honest,” Vanessa finished for him. With that, her good mood came to a screeching halt. Could they seriously not go five minutes without a crisis?! But then she immediately felt horrible for thinking that way. She shouldn’t be thinking of whatever was bothering Gregory as simply a problem or inconvenience. It was her job to take care of him. Fuck, what was wrong with her?

  “Well,” the bear hesitated, “I did not want to insinuate that Gregory was being dishonest—”

She raised a hand to cut him off and sighed. “Look, it’s fine. I’ll go talk to him.”

She took a moment to mentally prepare herself for… whatever the issue may be as she stood outside of the kid’s door, then raised a fist and gently rapped on it. “Hey, kid, I’m home.”

She heard the scuffling of him moving about and some object being shoved. “O-oh, hi, Vanessa,” a meek voice replied

She frowned. “Everything alright in there?”

A pause. “…Yes?” He phrased it like a question. That shouldn’t have been a question.

  “Then may I come in?”

She was met with silence, and she thought for a moment that he was going to genuinely ignore her and she didn’t know what she would do, but then the door opened a crack, just enough to reveal Gregory, body angled in the opening just so, so it was evident that he was guarding the way into his room. He was avoiding looking at her.

  “Freddy told me that you’ve been acting weird today. Is there anything you want to talk to me, or him, about?”

  “…Um.” Vanessa was surprised at the shakiness present in his voice. “N-no, there’s nothing you need to worry about,” he mumbled.

   “You’re a terrible liar, kid.”

He hung his head further, shoulders practically up near his ears. The silence dragged on.

Why wasn’t he telling her?! They’d made so much progress! Didn’t he trust her? Did she do something to break that trust? Did he—

No, no. She couldn’t think like that. If confronting him like this was getting them nowhere, then she’d have to try a different approach. “Okay then, how about this: Is anybody dead, seriously hurt, or knows anything about anything that happened at the Pizzaplex, Vanny, or Freddy’s whereabouts?”

  “No.” That, at least, he sounded sure of.

She let out a relieved breath. “Then whatever it is can be fixed.”

Gregory tilted his head up, just slightly, to peer at her through his bangs. “Later,” he murmured.

  “What?”

  “Can I show you later? Like, after supper?”

   So it was something physical? “Are you sure you don’t just want to get… whatever it is out of the way now?”

He nodded vigorously.

  “Okay.” Although she didn’t understand, Vanessa didn’t feel like arguing with him. “Fine. Whatever. If that’s what makes it easier for you.”

She was glad to see the tension in his shoulders dissipate a little. “Thank you.” 

Supper time came, and Gregory was noticeably subdued, although he perked up a little when Vanessa mentioned she got the job, and that she’d be working on computers. Both her and Freddy tried numerous times to engage him in conversation, but to little avail. He’d merely give short, single-sentence—or sometimes even just monosyllabic—answers, while slowly picking at his plate of casserole. Until Vanessa asked how his day at school was, and he froze, panic unmistakably flashing in his eyes.

  “Superstar?” Freddy questioned. So he’d noticed it too.

Gregory shook his head, then stabbed his fork into his food with more force than necessary. “Fine. It was fine.” He then started shovelling the food into his mouth, hands and voice both shaking.

  “Nope, that’s it.” Vanessa abruptly got up from the table, inadvertently causing some dishes to clang. Gregory flinched. “Kid, you’re shaking like a leaf. I know you said you wanted to wait until after supper, but for your sake, I’m saying that you have to tell me what’s wrong now. No arguing.”

His face fell, eyes darting back and forth as if looking for an escape or to see if Freddy would contradict her words, but found neither. So he could do nothing but utter a meek “okay,” and retreat into his room.

After a minute, he came back clutching a manila envelope with his name written on the front, and held it out to her. 

For a second, Vanessa was going to tell him to sit and open it right there and see what the fuss was about, but in her memories the dining table was always reserved for serious, unpleasant conversations. It meant punishments and berating and being made to feel small.

  “How about we sit on the couch? It’ll be more comfortable than the dining room.” She purposely made her voice breezy as she walked over, and made a point of casually lounging against the arm of the sofa, patting the area next to her.

Gregory reluctantly shuffled over and perched himself next to her, Freddy following not far behind.

Once everybody was situated, she curiously opened the envelope and pulled out… “Oh! Your report card! I forgot you’d be getting that today.”

Gregory nodded miserably.

Before looking at it any further, she set it down. “Listen, before I read this, I just want you to know that whatever it is is alright. I’m not angry, or disappointed in you, okay? Even if it’s all F’s! It can be fixed.” She picked up the paper again. “Now, let’s see what we have here…” She read through out loud. “B+ in English… B in science… B- in social studies…” She bumped his shoulder with hers. “Hey, not bad! I mean, A- in art and math?! I would’ve killed for grades like those in school.”

  “Way to go superstar!” Freddy cheered.

  “C in physical ed… and… oh.” She saw what the issue probably was. “A D+ in history? Well that’s not so bad,” she encouraged him. “We all have our strengths and… not strengths. If—”

  “Erm, Vanessa…” Freddy interrupted, tapping the bottom of the page. At first, she thought he was pointing to the attendance score, which had a concerning “Days present: 58, Days absent: 32” listed. But that could easily be explained by him starting three weeks late, him getting sick, his suspension, and then those few days after returning to the Pizzaplex…

Sure, not great statistics, especially seeing them listed out like that, but it’s not like it was anything she didn’t know already. But then she looked down further, at the section for teacher’s comments.

   “Bearing in mind Gregory started school three weeks late, and his adjusted learning plan to account for that missed work, these grades are quite acceptable. He is an intelligent and creative boy, with a clear aptitude in both mathematics and art. History appears to be a struggle for him, and I would encourage you to review the subjects with him at home. Overall, he is a quick learner and is doing well academically. However, he shows little interest in connecting with his peers, and some violent tendencies that have given us cause for worry. His inconsistent attendance is also an issue. I would like to set up a parent-teacher meeting in the new year to discuss next steps.”

  “Oh,” Vanessa murmured. “I see.”

  “I didn’t do anything! Gregory pleaded before she could say anything else. “I swear! Not since Ellis.”

  “Hey, hey, calm down, I believe you.” She set the paper down, trying to placate him.

He clearly misinterpreted her gesture, gasping and curling in on himself. “I’m sorry! I-I swear, I’ve been trying in school. I wanted to be good, I tried. I didn’t want you to have to worry about me, but now I’ve caused problems again a-and made you guys disappointed.” The poor kid was visibly shaking, trying to close himself off from them and the world around him. Vanessa recognized this behaviour; he was on the verge of a panic attack.

  “What? No, you’re fine! Everything’s fine! I promise,” she was quick to reassure him.

  “Nobody is disappointed in you, Superstar,” Freddy chimed in, resting his paw on the kid’s back. He flinched again. “In fact, I am very proud of you and all your accomplishments.”

  “See?” She said gently. “Freddy agrees too. It’s okay. Now, here’s what we’re gonna do. You’re gonna calm down, you’re gonna put school out of your mind for now and enjoy the holidays, and then after new year’s I’ll go to this stupid meeting and see if I can get to the bottom of this, alright? I’m not upset and I’m not disappointed. Everything’s fine. You hear me?”

Slowly, he nodded. But even so, he didn’t uncurl himself from his ball, nor did his breathing even out again. The two watched him sadly, waiting for him to calm down.

  “Nessa?” He finally murmured, barely raising his head.

  “Hm?” She replied softly.

  “I can’t,” he wavered.

  “Can’t what?”

  “Calm down. I know you’re not mad and t-that I’m not in trouble, but I—” he squeezed his eyes shut. “My heart is beating really fast and I feel like I can’t breathe.”

  “Okay, okay, um…” She drummed her fingers on her knee, considering what to do and thinking about what had worked in the past. Panic attacks—or general bouts of anxiety like this—were, upsettingly, not an uncommon occurrence in this household. She turned so that she was facing him, sitting crisscrossed. “Can I touch you?”

He made a noise that sounded like an assent.

  “I’m going to grab your hand and place it on my chest. I want you to feel my breathing and copy it, can you do that?”

  “Y-yeah.”

She reached out for his hand, then gently placed it over her heart. “When I breathe, you breathe. In…” she exaggerated her breaths. “…and out. Good.”

With every cycle of this, his shallow breaths levelled out into something steadier. A minute or so of this, and Vanessa deemed him well enough to venture talking with him.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Um.” He let out a breath. “Okay. Report card days are always… hard for me.”

  “Hard how?”

  “I’m not exactly the kind of kid that gets told I’m ‘a pleasure to have in class,’ or whatever,” he huffed. “I missed a lot of school being in and out of homes so my grades always stunk. I act out. Teachers don’t like me,” he listed off. “I’m a bona-fide problem child. So getting a report card almost always meant I was in for a punishment, or at the very least a lecture when I got home. Even with the best families I’d still have to deal with their disappointment and disapproval. They never exactly tried very hard to hide it.”

  “What kinds of punishments?” Freddy cut in before she could.

He shrugged. “The usual stuff. Grounding, being sent to my room without supper, spanking... Sometimes all three.” He must’ve caught a glimpse of both Vanessa and Freddy’s matching faces of horror as he quickly backtracked. “Nevermind. Forget I said anything.”

She wondered if Gregory could feel her heart skipping a beat. “Is that why you wanted to wait until after supper?”

His lack of response said everything. He sighed. “I know you said that… that you would never withhold food or other necessities from me, but…”

  “…But sometimes it’s hard to remember, I know,” she finished for him sadly. “Old habits die hard. I still sometimes worry about my old man getting mad at me when I mess up, and I haven’t seen him in over six years.”

But Gregory only scrunched up his face in frustration. “But it’s just… this time I tried!” He insisted. “I wanted to be good, get good grades, and not cause trouble, because that’s what you wanted. I wanted to make you proud, but I’m still the same screw-up I always am—”

  “Hey,” Vanessa interjected sharply. “Don’t say those things about yourself. You are not a screw-up, and I am proud of you. I mean that. And I’d be proud of you no matter what letters were written on that dumb card. Your worth isn’t defined by your grades, or your accomplishments, or whatever, no matter what teachers or anybody else may have tried to make you believe. You are trying your best and you are growing and you are learning and that is all I could ask for.”

He withdrew from her, folding his arms on top of his knees. “I thought I was getting better,” he said quietly. “I’ve been here for months now, I-I should be used to how you guys treat me, and stop panicking over nothing. When did I become such a baby?”

She didn’t even give that remark the dignity of acknowledgment. “You are getting better,” she assured him. “But three months isn’t very long at all, and healing isn’t linear.”

He frowned. “How long will it take? Until I’m normal again.”

  “I don’t think ‘normal’ is possible anymore for us,” she joked softly, hiding her twinge of sadness. “But normal is overrated anyway. I wish I could tell you that these fears will go away soon. But they might not, it might take years, or they might not go away at all. But you know what? It’s okay, because we’ll remind you as many times as we need to. You’re safe here.” I’ll make sure of it. So long as there is still blood pumping through my veins.

  “Indeed,” Freddy agreed, still rubbing circles on the boy’s back. “I promised to keep you safe no matter what. That has not changed.”

  “Safe…” he murmured, closing his eyes. “I’m safe.”

  “You are, bud.”

He was silent for another minute, breathing deeply, peacefully, then he finally shrugged Freddy’s paw off. He opened his mouth to say something, but Vanessa cut him off before he could. “Don’t you dare apologize.”

  “How’d you know that that’s what I was gonna say?” He pouted.

  “Because I know you and I know how you are,” she answered simply. “Now come on, it’s winter break! It’s the holidays! No more worrying about school or anything else. I’m going to make us some hot chocolate, then what do you say we play a board game? Your choice.”

He brightened. Vanessa wasn’t sure if it was at the proposition or from the change of topic, but either way, a win was a win. “Can we play Monopoly? It’s been awhile.”

  “Sure.”

  “I call dibs on the dog piece!”

  “You always call dibs on the dog piece,” she whined. “Can’t I use it for once?”

  “Hm…” He pretended to consider. “Nah, you said it was my choice. That means I also get first dibs on my piece.”

  “Using my words against me, huh, brat? Fine, take the dog, I’ll be the stupid thimble.”

  “Then I can be the top hat!” Freddy exclaimed happily. As if he didn’t choose it every time and anybody would’ve even thought about taking it from him.

It felt good to be all together like this, knowing that they had three more weeks of it. No work, no school, no imminent threats, just… home. Home and family and the holidays. What a stark contrast from her last few Christmases. And, when she thought about it, Gregory and Freddy probably felt the same. Simple domesticity like this was foreign to all of them. But it felt so right.

She couldn’t even find it in her to mind when Freddy’s paw knocked into the board for the umpteenth time while attempting to move his tiny game piece with his large claws, resulting in them having to re set-up all the houses and hotels again.