Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dreadfully, terribly; something is amiss
But I won't mind the feeling
It's all made up in my head
Destiny's melody calling out to me
So what I'm gonna do is fall for you
And walk out to the edge

~Into the Pit by DHeusta~

***

Gregory was in the middle of a small, grassy area. Upright with the free wind blowing gently on his face, a horrible wave of confusion and fear gripped him. Suddenly he was alone and in a completely new place, one he was sure he’d never been before. It looked like the backyard of a stranger’s home…

But how was this possible? Did he accidentally hit his head from the force of Mike’s throw? Was Gregory really just passed out, slowly suffocating under the rainbow river until his family inevitably fished him out? Slowly, Gregory kicked some of the bouncing plastic away as he fumbled to get free of the knee-high, homemade pool.

“Hello?! Charlie! MIKE!” he shouted, vision blurring with tears again. He must’ve hit his head hard to be dreaming of something so liminal—something he swore that he’d never seen before, yet felt strangely connected to.

“Dad?! WHERE IS EVERYONE?!” Gregory demanded to know, feeling his breathing pick up rapidly as panic took hold of him once more.

This just didn't make sense. When nothing but silence reached him, Gregory clammed up. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to be shouting for help in a random backyard of an unfamiliar house. Gregory carefully dug through the plastic pool, looking for a spot where he could have fallen through. Yet there was no way back. Nothing. No hatch or hole, nor hidden slide leading to this random neighborhood from the familiarity of the Pizzaplex.

When his investigations came up short, Gregory took a moment to steel his nerve. Then, with a deep, determined breath, he walked for the house. Maybe whoever was inside could help him find his family...

***

As Gregory approached the back door, a man opened it and poked his head out. His face was familiar. Very familiar. It was one that Gregory had seen not five minutes earlier in fact, though the visage staring at him now was noticeably older.

Faint laugh lines creased Michael Afton’s face, crinkling the corners of his soft blue eyes as his mouth widened in a brilliant smile. He looked to be in his fifties now, though the rapid age progression wasn’t the most startling thing about him. It was the fact that he looked genuinely happy.

Even with his perfect android body and the ability to finally spend time with the family he loved more than anything, there’d always been a bit of a haunted look in Michael’s eyes. With all he’d suffered through the years, one couldn’t really expect anything less. Yet the man standing in front of Gregory possessed no such thing—there wasn’t a whisper of hollow aching behind those bright eyes that looked down at the kid with pure affection.

“There you are!” Michael exclaimed in an accented voice that was oh-so-familiar. At least that hadn’t changed. Opening the door fully, he gestured for Gregory to come inside with a laugh. “I thought you were in your room; we were calling for you! Didn’t want you to miss Saturday breakfast—it’s pancake day, remember?”

When Gregory didn’t move and Michael noticed the tears in his eyes, his face twisted into concern. “Whoa, what happened, kid?! Did you fall? Come inside; let’s clean you up and get some food in you—you’ll feel better in no time!”  

...This couldn't be Michael. Mike was old, but he didn’t look it. This Mike had smile lines and touches of greying hair. And most of all, his face didn't default to a wistful frown like the man Gregory knew. Whatever was going on had to be some sort of trick, or dream, or... something.

Gregory was holding onto his watch, pressing lightly on the spot where the damn thing burned him. It took a second before he could budge his feet, the sheer absurdity and unlikeliness of the situation stopping his tears like an emotional dam. Seeing past his fluffy, fringe bangs and really looking at him, Gregory trusted that this was indeed Michael. A copy couldn’t fake the level of empathy the guy had for him, marred by age lines or not.

Gregory immediately grasped for Mike’s open hand and followed him inside, clearly in a state of shock. Crossing the threshold of the backdoor, the smell of blueberry pancakes wafted all around them.

Who was cooking in the kitchen? Gregory would bet Freddy; maybe he’d gotten some extra software installed when he wasn’t looking... Though in reality, it was probably Charlie.

They had to pass through a backroom with a washer and dryer, clothes of all kinds littered around. Notably, all of them seemed to be clothes suited to a "boy's" style, some looking like they’d fit Gregory perfectly. Past the laundry room and through a cracked door, Michael led the way to the combined kitchen and dining room.

And there, casual as could be, stood someone Gregory had never seen before. A man, with long, curly blonde hair tied back for food preparation as he flipped the last of the warming pancakes off the griddle and onto an oversized serving plate.

“BOYS! FOOD'S REA—oh my god, you're right behind me!” The man with a tan complexion clutched his chest and laughed good-naturedly. “Sweet, you found him!”

The stranger's smile dropped a little as he saw the apprehensive and shocked look on Gregory’s face. Kneeling down to his level, this guy who was cooking in Michael's(?) kitchen seemed very worried about his well-being. “Oh dang, Mike... Looks like he was sleepwalking again.”

This little habit of Gregory’s worried the blonde to no end. He was fairly positive they checked that the doors were locked twice before setting off to bed... So how did the kid get out without either of them noticing? Surely one of them would’ve heard a half-asleep Greg struggling with the locks. At least it didn't look like he hurt himself—thank god. Gregory just appeared a little shaken up, with no blood in sight.

Letting out a deep, rumbling sigh, the blonde reached out. He couldn’t help but notice that Gregory flinched ever so slightly before his hand gently touched down onto his hair. He soothingly rubbed the top of Gregory’s head and sighed.

“Man, what are we gonna do with you, kid?” he remarked with a soft chuckle, trying not to make it all seem so serious in front of the kid in question. “Mike, d’you mind cleaning him up? I've gotta set the table before the griddle-cakes cool!”

Gregory may appear calm on the outside, but he was beyond confused. He was entering an almost catatonic state, uncertainty sending hot tingles racing up and down his spine. Who the hell was this guy?! And why was he so friendly with Mike? 

Gregory sure as hell didn't know him, but the dude seemed to know him. Even care about him, apparently.

“Are they... blueberry?” Gregory asked, smelling the distinctly sweet tartness wafting from the homey kitchen. The unfamiliar man shot him a sideways look before laughing once more.

“Yeah? Your favorite, little man! Now hustle, you two; these won't stay hot forever!” he reminded patiently, standing up and taking off the novelty 'LET'S PARTY!' apron he’d adorned to hang it on a nearby chicken-shaped hanger.  

“Yes, sir!” Michael chuckled, giving the man a jaunty salute with his free hand. Gently tugging Gregory along, he prompted the boy to follow him to the bathroom.

As they meandered through the house, familiar worry crossed Michael’s face. They’d triple-checked the locks last night, he was sure of it. Not that Gregory was incapable of opening doors, but his sleepwalking episodes usually just ended with him in standing near a random wall rambling nonsense about what, if they listened close enough, sounded like strange, horrible versions of their lives. He hadn’t wandered like that in quite a while…

The sleepwalking rants had been touched on during Gregory’s therapy sessions of course, though the shrink assured them it wasn’t cause for concern. It was just his mind trying to work through whatever unfortunate things he’d been through during his life before they’d adopted him from the hell that was their local foster care system. They were told not to worry, but Michael couldn’t help it.

Right now though, his goal was to clean Gregory up and get him to the breakfast table before there was more griping about food getting cold again.

“Alright, let’s put you riiight here,” Mike announced, face slipping back into that easy smile as he picked Gregory up under the arms to seat him on the closed toilet lid. The boy didn’t flinch from him like he’d done to the other, but he was a weird mixture of stiff-limbed, yet pliant enough to let Michael maneuver him however he wanted.

“I think you’re still half asleep, Greg,” Mike joked, grabbing a clean washcloth from the linen closet and wetting it under the faucet. He crouched by Gregory’s side, gently wiping away the definite remnants of tear stains from his face. Maybe he had another nightmare? The boy didn’t respond well if they pushed him though, and Mike was sure he’d tell them what happened when he calmed down—if he remembered, that is.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve seen that sweater before,” Michael remarked, figuring a topic change might help get Gregory out of his funk. He raised an eyebrow at the frankly adorable Glamrock Freddy-themed hoodie as he finished wiping off his face. “Did Uncle Henry sneak you one of the pre-release things again?”

The guy was damn-near obsessed with the kid—as was everyone else in the Afton-Emily families—and tended to pinch merch he thought Gregory would like before Sam actually released them to the public. This wouldn’t be the first time Gregory appeared in unfamiliar clothing, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

...What the fuck? Gregory certainly felt like he was still dreaming. The cool cloth admittedly helped to ground him, though confusion was still his primary mode of operation right then. It was like Michael didn’t remember anything about these past few weeks.

Concerned, Gregory cocked his head at the man cleaning him up. “My hoodie? Freddy got it for me, remember?”

He wanted to ask more questions—like who the slightly muscular guy with major relaxed vibes cooking for them was. Although Gregory could feel his stomach twisting in anxious, hungry knots, he didn’t want to eat something a stranger made for him.

The spacious half bath that Michael sat him down in looked lived in, too. Gregory wanted to reason that this place was a trap of some kind—yet the clothes in the washroom and the child-sized toothbrush sitting in a cup on the counter told him otherwise. How long had they been living here that Gregory apparently wasn't aware of?

When Michael pulled back and gave him an incredulous stare, Gregory tried to elaborate.

“No—‘cause… We didn’t want Terry or Rita finding me. Remember?” he rephrased, wondering if his words were only serving to make Michael think he just had an incredibly vivid “sleepwalking cycle” again.

In the dining room, Michael’s other half worked quickly. Setting the platter of breakfast cakes down with the mixed berry toppings beside it, he quickly buttered both Gregory’s and Mike’s first servings. Greg got a helping of whipped cream topped on his, a routine they knew he couldn’t miss. It was the only way that they used to get Gregory to finish his pancakes, and had now just become a habit.

“‘Terry and Rita?’” Michael’s face pinched in confusion. He stared at the boy for a moment, as if the reason he was acting so strangely would be spelled out somewhere. The washcloth was placed on the sink in favor of Michael pressing the back of a hand against Gregory’s forehead.

“Hmm… you don’t feel warm,” he murmured, then moved to gently cup Gregory’s chin and turn his head from side to side. “And it doesn’t seem like you’re coming down with anything… must’ve just been one heck of a dream, huh?”

With a soft laugh Michael stood, holding out his hand for Gregory to take again.

“I guarantee a good breakfast will make you feel better; even you swear Jeremy’s cooking is magical,” he said, the smile returning once again. Hopefully the kid was just hungry; a solid snack usually solved about 80% of his problems nowadays.

Gregory hopped off the toilet and took his hand, though he seemed resistant as Michael tried leading him back to the kitchen. Looking down with a raised eyebrow, Mike asked: “What’s up? You know if we take too long your dad’ll come in here and throw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes…”

What? Hell no! No fucking way was Gregory letting some strange surfer guy—

"DAD?!" he choked out, utterly floored by the nonsense spilling from Michael's lips. What the fuck happened when he jumped into that ball pit? 

Barring whatever was going on with that whole situation, Mike wouldn't forget about Terry and Rita so easily. If Gregory looked confused beyond a reasonable doubt, it was because he was trying to work out what odd world he found himself in; it's like he was in some strange, alternate dimension. Worst case scenario, the effects of Remnant on his body were giving him some very wild hallucinations. He could be laying comatose somewhere, probably at the bottom of the ball pit, trapped in a dream-like daze he couldn't wake from—

Before Gregory knew it, he was smoothly guided to a round dining table. The sight of whipped cream-coated pancakes made his ever-hungry stomach sing and his mouth water. The man who Michael claimed to be his dad raised an eyebrow at Gregory.

“Kid, do we ever feed you?” Jeremy asked rhetorically, knowing that Gregory ate a big meal last night at Freddy's with their family and friends. He laughed quietly to himself as he pulled Gregory's chair out. Looking then to Michael, Jeremy asked: “He's definitely still asleep. He didn't look like he hit his head or anything, right?”

He made sure to ask him that last part in a more hushed tone, voice laced with concern.

“Nope,” Michael said with a shake of his head, the worried crease in his brow now back in full force.

As Gregory cautiously settled in his chair, Mike pressed a brief kiss to Jeremy's cheek as thanks for the breakfast before moving to his own seat. Gregory was looking at him like he had two heads now—although this was far better than the wide-eyed stare he turned on Jeremy. It was as if Gregory didn't even know the guy anymore...

“Greg, why don't you just eat your pancakes and we'll see how you feel afterwards?” Michael suggested, trying to smile despite the unmistakable feeling that something was wrong creeping up the base of his skull. Maybe he had fallen outside when neither of them were watching? 

“You need to eat too, you know,” Jeremy said with a cheeky grin, taking his usual seat across from his son.

His son—whose eyes followed him now, seeming hesitant at first to touch the lovingly crafted meal. 

Jeremy tried not to give Gregory all his focus. Maybe he had an especially bad night terror this time? He could ask about it later, if Gregory felt up to talking about it. For some odd reason, the kid seemed almost... angry with him? Eyeing him with a suspicion he hadn't been graced with since those first few months after they'd taken him from the foster home. Jeremy didn't know what he could’ve done wrong; they’d been on great terms before going to bed last night. Unless the dreaded teenage angst was finally hitting the kid…

Grab your fork and start eating, Gregory had to tell himself. Watching now as Jeremy took the seat across from him and began to tuck into his food, Gregory noted the thick gold wedding band across his ring finger. With slow-growing realization, his gaze slid to Michael’s hand to find a matching band catching the light of the overheads.

Holy shit. This guy was married to Michael...

...Alright. If they were both his dads, what happened to Freddy?

Michael had mentioned Henry—so at least he knew and still kept in touch with the ghost. Gregory cut into the pancakes with his fork and scooped a big serving with berries and cream while he pondered, unaware he let out a hum of contentment as the flavors melded in his mouth. Jeremy's eyes flicked from his plate, his smile wide now.

“Are they up to snuff today?” he asked, pulling Gregory from his thoughts. He seemed to be waiting for his approval.

Gregory chewed what was left in his cheek and replied honestly: “These are the best pancakes I've ever had...”

This made Jeremy grin from ear to ear and puff out his chest with all the pride a hardworking dad could have. “They're not any different than the usual ones—but thanks, kid!”

“Oh, stop being humble. There's no question who's the best chef around here.” Mike playfully rolled his eyes, lightly kicking Jeremy's leg under the table. Jeremy beamed, taking the compliment well as he knocked his slipper against Michael's leg in return.

Michael had inherited a lot of things from his father, looks being the most prominent one. His cooking skills—or lack thereof... Well, that was one of the unfortunate things William passed down to his eldest offspring. It wasn't that Michael was completely inept in the kitchen; he knew the basics, and he got better and better with each meal he and Jer prepared together over the years. But when it came down to it, Jeremy would win in a culinary contest every time without a doubt.

...Not that Michael really minded. It was sweet how Jeremy seemed to put his own flair in everything he made, no matter how simple the dish was.

The group ate in silence for a little while, this one ever-so-slightly less tense than before. Gregory seemed more ruminative now and less outwardly upset, though he still cast the occasional furtive glance at the two men across the table.

“Oh!” Suddenly Michael perked up, looking at the others with a grin. “Gregory, this'll cheer you up—Sam wants us to come to the Pizzaplex this afternoon. He said Freddy got a new software update and wants to use us as test dummies to make sure his customer interactions are still up to par... and by 'us' he really means you, of course.”

Though Freddy was just a robot like the rest of the Glamrocks, for whatever reason Gregory seemed to get the most genuine responses out of the bear. Plus, with all the knowledge the kid picked up over the past few years with practically having the animatronics as another family, he was able to spot subtle errors in their programming that even top-technician Mike might miss.

“Charlie and Henry are gonna be there, too,” Michael added to sweeten the deal, looking at Gregory questioningly. “Think you'll be up for it later?”

At the suggestion, Jeremy watched their son's eyes grow wide. Once again Gregory was quick to swallow the bit of food in his mouth, Jeremy noting how fast he inhaled everything on his plate.

“Yes! I mean—yeah, let's go to the Pizzaplex,” Gregory agreed. That was some semblance of normalcy, and maybe Freddy could help him get to the bottom of this weirdness. Between everyone at the mega mall, someone had to know what was going on.

And if no one did, well… Gregory preemptively resigned himself to the idea that he died for real somehow when entering that ball pit and now was in a weird limbo.

“That's a great idea! Spend the weekend chilling with ol' Fredbear and friends,” Jeremy remarked, hardly able to wait himself. He was relieved to see that Gregory just needed a good meal to wake him up. This kid had a knack for worrying him sometimes… but wasn’t that just par for the course when it came to child-rearing?

Thinking on it as Jeremy scooped up a wayward berry, he was going to ask Mike when he wanted to leave when movement through the dining room window's curtain caught his eye. Back straightening, he watched a familiar purple compact car roll into their driveway.

“Oh boy, here comes trouble...,” Jeremy mentioned with a cheek full of griddlecakes.

“What?” Michael whirled around, though he already knew what Jer was talking about before he laid eyes on the car. With a groan and dramatic eye roll, Mike shoveled down the last few bites of his food before standing up to break for the front door, muttering to himself. “Why does he never fucking call me first, oh my god...”

He'd barely made it when the bell rang once, twice, three times before the man let the poor device have a second of peace. Michael closed his eyes and took a deep, centering breath before flinging the door open.

“Dad!” he greeted, giving the person outside a brief hug. “So nice to see you completely unprompted again... Ah, you should know that—no, okay, you're already inside. Fantastic.”

Michael wanted to give a warning that Gregory was acting a bit off today, but as usual nothing was going to stop William Afton from making a beeline for his favorite grandkid—not even his own flesh-and-blood son. Honestly, sometimes it felt like Will preferred Gregory to Michael himself...

Of course William was happy to see Michael—really, he was. Will merely had more pressing matters to attend to this morning, such as coming inside to give his favorite grandchild an early birthday present! With a completely empty nest and only Henry to bother most of the day, William found himself with far too much time on his hands after helping found their shared empire.

With the small gift in his hands and a Bonnie mask now flipped down over his face, Will crept towards the dining room.

Gregory had developed a sixth sense when he was being watched. It was something he needed to learn to survive in the Pizzaplex, despite the virus-ridden place in his mind maybe not even existing as he knew it. When he felt a hand touch his shoulder, Gregory whipped around already primed to swing—but what he saw curdled his blood and froze him in his tracks. It felt like a cold slurry of ice ran through his veins as this masked figure held a present out to him.

“Happy early birthday, Gregory!” spoke a familiar and hypnotic tone that flushed all the color from his face.

It was him. It had to be all his fault—that's why Gregory was here! William came back despite all their efforts and must’ve done something to trap him in this weird alternate world!

Gregory sat frozen, unsure of what to even do as William cocked his head in the creepiest manner possible. Jeremy was upright now, standing with a focused gaze. To protect him?

...No. He was clearing away everyone's dishes, wholly unconcerned with the apparent child murderer casually strolling through their house.

“Dad, Gregory's had a tough morning. You know how touchy he gets,” Jeremy firmly but carefully reminded William. The man seemed to get that hint right away, snatching a poised hand back and lifting the Bonnie mask with a flick of his wrist.

The face that stared back at Gregory was not one he expected. He looked... Nearly identical to Michael. It was uncanny, though William certainly had age over his son. That much was clear with the various stress wrinkles and smile lines. His hair was nearly all greyed, a few strong streaks of dark brown serving to show experience in his elder years.

“Dad, come on,” Michael sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose as he followed his surprisingly sprightly father into the kitchen. “You know Greg hates it when people sneak up on him...”

The kid had been getting better, but he still tended to startle when crept up on. Whatever happened in his past before Mike and Jeremy took him under their wings made him paranoid of “surprises,” and though they were all working through it together some days seemed like more of a setback than others. Today was clearly one such day, based on the way Gregory was staring at William.

“Bad dreams again? Tch—” William hissed through his teeth, looking a might concerned that his grandson was still having such things. Though Michael and Jeremy did mention it would take some time for Gregory to feel completely safe, even in his dreams, Will figured a few years would’ve done the trick. “That's a shame. It's a good thing you're awake now, innit?”

He set Gregory's present down on the table for now. It could wait in the interest of easing the boy’s nerves first. “Come on then, give your Pappy a hug!”

Before Gregory could protest, with the spryness of a younger man William managed to scoop Gregory from his seat. Now forced to abandon the scraps on his plate to be held by a man who nearly murdered him horribly two weeks prior, Gregory’s head began to spin.

“Pappy?!” he gasped in confusion. William cluelessly squeezed Gregory around the shoulders, pretty much ignoring Jeremy's warning to take it easy with their son. In turn the boy had gone limp, clenching his eyes shut as he was afraid of whatever tortures that William planned to subject him to this time around.  

“Dad...,” Michael warned, seeing the telltale sign of William gearing up to lift the boy in his arms. He started forward, but Gregory was snatched into the air before Michael could reach him. The sight of him rag-dolling in William's grasp set off alarm bells, and Mike rushed over to pry him away. “Dad! Dad, let him go!”

Hearing the seriousness in Michael's voice, William was quick to release his grandson and hand him over. Michael barely got ahold of the kid before Gregory cinched tight around him, white-knuckled and clinging like Mike was a lifeline. To his horror Gregory was even hyperventilating slightly, and he knew that whatever was going on needed to be figured out away from the other two.

“I-I'm going to take him to his room for a bit,” Michael murmured, already walking away and trying to keep his voice calm. “You two just... hang tight. We'll be back soon.”  

He didn't speak again until they were in Gregory's room, upon which he shut the door and perched on the edge of the tiny bed. He tried to set the boy down, but he didn't seem to want to let go just yet. With his brows creased to a startling degree of concern, Michael held Gregory closer and murmured soothingly in his ear: “Hey, its okay—I'm here. It's just me. Relax, Gregory, everything's going to be fine...”  

Safety—or, at least it felt safe. This version of Michael was still dead-set on saving him from any situation Gregory was uncomfortable with. With the whirlwind state of his mind, Gregory barely registered the bedroom he’d been taken into.

However, he did see them. Pictures… Family pictures, all of them hung in the spacious stairwell along its painted wall. Some included Gregory, set back a few years younger, but he wasn’t in all of them. One was a wedding photo, Michael and Jeremy beaming at the camera in matching white suits. Others were clearly old photos of a family—Michael’s family. Gregory recognized Liz and Evan standing in front of a house with their brother, the three of them being squeezed in the loving and protective grasp of an older woman with soft blonde hair. Her grip mimicked the hold that Michael had on Gregory now.

“—Bonnie’s gonna get me,” Gregory finally managed between little gasps. It seemed absurd and silly to be afraid. The muscles in his back were tight, as if he was going to start crying again but was desperately clinging to bravery. “B-Bonnie’s gonna get me…”

Chapter Text

“No, he isn’t,” Michael said, still in that quiet, measured voice. One hand rubbed mindless patterns on Gregory’s back, giving him something to focus on besides the terrible images his brain was twisting William’s masked appearance into.

“You love Bonnie, remember?” Mike reminded gently. It was true—Freddy was the clear favorite, but Bonnie undoubtedly had a special place in Gregory’s heart, too. “And anyway, you know that’s not really Bonnie. It’s just your troublesome granddad…”

He trailed off with a purse of his lips. William was wonderful with Gregory for the most part, but damn did Michael wish the stubborn man listened to him sometimes.

“William adores you, Greg, and he’d never do anything to hurt you.” There was a pause as Michael seemed to consider something.

What had the therapist said? Sometimes Gregory might be afraid of things that seem irrational, and the fear might pop up suddenly. The best thing to do in that situation was to assure him there were people around to protect him and let him come out of it on his own time. Michael certainly experienced a similar thing with Evan growing up… just another way his brother and his son were connected besides their coincidental looks.

“I’m not moving until you’re ready for me to,” Michael assured, still keeping up that steady pattern tracing with his fingertips. It was a silent way to say: I’m here. I love you. You’re not alone anymore. “Take all the time you need."

Gregory wasn't letting go of Michael. For the time being, the guy was all that he could trust—

But how could he say all those things? It contradicted everything Gregory thought he knew about... well, everything.

Gregory managed to sniffle, holding in his fear and swallowing it long enough to see the room that Michael had taken him into. They were sat on a soft rug that looked like it’d been plucked straight from a 90's arcade—a deep blue background with many little neon shapes and blacklight designs. A loft bed loomed over them with a kid-sized desk and impressive desktop computer facing them. From what he could see, many posters from the Pizzaplex were hanging in frames along the walls, perfectly filling empty spaces of the striped wallpaper. For now, Gregory would ground himself on Michael's words and his surroundings alone; combined, they were enough to get his bearings.

Was this really his life?

Could he even trust Michael anymore…?

When Gregory pulled away just slightly to look Mike in the eyes, everything inside told him that he could. The worried way Michael glanced at him was the same look he had inside the Daycare before he entered that damn ball pit.

“...Dad?” Gregory tried experimentally. In the apparent absence of Freddy, that's who Mike was to him now in this weird maybe-dream-world, right? His father.

He'd have to calm down; pretend as if he knew everything that was going on and soak in this new perspective. It might be the only way to survive until he got a legitimate handle on things.

“I-I'm really sorry... I don't know what came over me,” Gregory apologized, recognizing his fears were irrational, even if they didn't feel like it. If Michael didn't hate William—if William was a good person—then Gregory wasn't sure if he could believe his own instincts anymore.

The kid wasn't even aware that there'd been a good eight minutes where he simply said nothing and clung to his dad's shirt. Sometimes that's all he needed; time to figure it out in his head. Even now he was left flailing inside his own mind, trying to come to terms with what his life was. It wasn't nearly as bad as he was making it seem, surely. Yet it was certainly different; uprooting. 

“Hey, what’ve we talked about? No apologizing for that sort of thing, alright?” Finally, Michael’s face softened into a slightly less concerned expression. He gave Gregory a squeeze, a tiny smile lifting up the corner of his mouth. “It’s fine for you to be afraid of things, even if they might seem ridiculous. As long as you know that you’re safe and that your dad and I are here for you at the end of the day, that’s all that matters.” He chuckled with a roll of his eyes. “And your grandpa too, despite his eccentricities.”

Michael would need to have a serious talk with William about not sneaking up behind Gregory like that… if Jeremy hadn’t already taken up the task, of course. Running his fingers through Gregory’s hair, he had to ask: “Is there anything you want to talk about? It’s fine if not, but if there’s something I can ease your mind on, I’d like to try.”

Mike and Jer tried to be relatively open books with Gregory, in the hopes that someday he’d understand that he really could tell them anything—good or bad.

Gregory looked at him with scrunched eyebrows. Michael was right on some level; blaming himself for the reactions everyone was pulling from him wasn't going to help. He thought hard about how he wanted to phrase everything, trying to search for some truth in the fog of this place—to deduce if he was truly awake or dreaming right then.

“...I think I had the most realistic dream of my entire life. And it freaked me out so bad I, like—forgot what real life is for a minute?” Gregory said slowly, unsure in himself. Was that a thing? Where people couldn't tell what was real or not because of the vividness of their dreams? “I was trapped with you and Charlie in the Pizzaplex—but you guys were ghosts inside of robots? Th-Then Freddy adopted me and—and Will—no, Pappy, I guess? That's weird... He was trying to put this glowy stuff in me with a syringe and make me live forever...”

The more Gregory talked about it, the more ridiculous it sounded. A child's terrified flight of fancy rather than something rooted in reality. In his messed-up mind, was Freddy a replacement for his parents? Was William truly a good family man?

There was warmth under his fingertips, and he’d heard the distinctive beating of a heart as he rested on Michael’s chest. Was everyone still alive?

Gregory’s eyes snapped back up to Michael. “It was so real! Everyone was there, too!”  

For a moment, Mike simply listened to Gregory’s rant with an attentive look. He did a pretty good job keeping his expression measured, though it was a wonder he didn’t chip a tooth with how hard his jaw was clenched.

This was… a lot. Gregory certainly had a vivid imagination, but Michael didn’t realize it was this good. To have a dream so lucid one was convinced reality was the false world? He’d heard of that happening before, but never did he think Gregory would experience such a thing.

“…Wow,” he remarked after a moment of processing, blinking down at his son a few times before smiling again. “That sounds like quite an adventure! No wonder you’re so on edge today.”

Especially if he thought he’d been adopted by a robot bear, his family was dead, and his dear old grandad was going to inject him with immortal juice…

“I can assure you, though—” Michael went on, a playful glint in his eye even though his words were sincere. “I am one hundred boring flesh and blood. So’s Charlie—no freaky human robots or ghosts to be found. And like I said, Pappy wouldn’t lay a finger on you. Besides—” A dark little grin curled up the corner of Michael’s mouth, reminding Gregory of the unflappable determination to protect his family lurking just underneath the surface. “—Father knows I’d take him down in a heartbeat if he even thought of harming a hair on your head.”

Said brown hair was ruffled to an unruly degree as if to demonstrate this fact. When the boys settled again, Michael met Gregory’s gaze with one of complete understanding and acceptance. “Thanks for telling me all this, Gregory. Are you feeling any better now?”

He didn't feel great, but talking about it did help. Gregory rubbed his face before answering, finding Michael's retort a little funny as the first hint of a smile reached his lips.

“Yeah... I don't know what made me think any of that was real.” He spoke as if he didn't quite want to admit it. He sniffed, clearing his nose a little as his breathing returned to normal, leaning his head into his dad’s hand with a sigh. The power of dreams, he supposed. Of his own accord, Gregory gave Michael a proper hug, thanking him. “I'm glad you're easy to talk to... Dad.”

He found it hard not to call him Michael for some odd reason. Gregory stood, ready to go back and face down the man he was so convinced was a monster hell-bent on capturing him, and the stranger who also called himself “Dad.” He trusted Michael's word above anything, and was sure that he could trust anyone Mike trusted, too.

The moniker was a little forced, but that was alright. Perhaps Michael wasn’t Gregory’s father in this hyper-realistic dream? He wasn’t sure what else he’d be to the kid whose adoption papers were literally locked within the safe box in his room, but it seemed Gregory trusted him regardless.

“And I’m glad you feel that way, Greg,” Michael replied, watching his son finally dislodge his death grip and stand. Mike’s shirt was a bit wet from the sniffling, though he didn’t care. “You can come to me and Jer about anything—we’re always here for you.”

That guy was just as head over heels about Gregory as Michael was, and through Gregory had always seemed to lean slightly more on Mike, over time he’d accepted that Jeremy was just as willing to listen with a caring ear.

“Speaking of your dad—” Michael’s grin widened, the gold band on his finger glinting in the light when he held out his left hand for Gregory to take. “—we should probably make sure he and Pappy still have all their limbs intact.”

It was a clear joke, but things had been a little tough when the blonde initially fell into Michael’s life. William came around eventually though—and he’d done the same for Gregory. Now the pair were just another set in the ever-expanding Afton family.

It was true that Jeremy and William had a rocky start to their relationship. Over time, Jeremy being a part of Michael’s life as well as his own became routine and unavoidable. It wasn’t something William could fight, as the man made his son happy. Eventually they found common ground. It was around the time that the boys had decided to adopt Gregory that their squabbles teetered off, in fact.

Giving his face one last wipe with his sleeve, Gregory trusted his hand to Mike’s and followed him back down the staircase. This time Gregory took closer looks at the many frames that were scattered on the walls, trying his best to associate names with faces on the way down. Sitting calmly at the table, leg crossed one over the other was his supposed grandfather, leaning back as he blew on a piping cup of tea. His pale eyes flicked to Gregory, and he smiled sweetly.

“Gregory… I’m so sorry for scaring you, sport. I didn’t see that you were frightened,” William apologized, not moving as he waited for the boy’s approach.

“S’alright…,” Gregory murmured in response, seeing just from demeanor alone that this William was certainly different than the one he met before.

Still strange beyond a doubt—but less overtly psychotic off the bat.

Clearing his throat, William pushed the present on the table towards Gregory as a peace offering.

“I spent a good two weeks on this one,” he boasted, looking down at his fingernails with charismatic glib. “Don’t feel like you have to open it now, but I thought you’d find it useful.”

If it was anything like the last present he gave Gregory, it might be painful. Waiting would only raise his anxiety though, so Gregory carefully unwrapped the present, flinching with each little sound the crinkling paper made. He looked to Jeremy and Michael before lifting the tiny lid, as if waiting for final reassurance that a hypodermic needle wasn’t about to pop out of this thing, too.

“Go ahead, little dude! You’re gonna love it,” Jeremy encouraged, so Gregory did—and gasped at what he saw: the tiniest Music Man ever!

Looking oh-so-impressed with himself, William leaned his weight on the back legs of his chair. “Yep! Complete with a Bluetooth speaker and an alarm function! He’s a little friend who can play you tunes and wake you up in the morning.”

“Amazing work as ever, Dad,” Michael praised, patting William on the shoulder as he passed on the way to the stove. Satisfied that Gregory wasn’t going to scream in fright or lash out at the gift, Mike turned away to pour his own cup of tea using water from the still-hot kettle.

William was happy for the recognition—even if he had a little help from his dear friend Henry for the detail work, it wasn’t unlike him to put on a persona of being able to do everything.

While the leaves steeped, Michael sidled up to Jeremy in the kitchen. Resting his hip against the counter, Michael leaned over to murmur in his ear. “He’ll be okay—he had a bad nightmare. Super realistic; made him all out of whack. I think he’ll be in a bit of a funk the rest of the day, but he already seems to be getting better.”

“He’s feeling sensitive today. Poor little man…,” Jeremy whispered in a pained sigh. He wished he could wave Gregory’s woes away with a few choice words or actions. Sadly, Gregory’s therapist said some days just weren’t going to be easy. Still, he and Mike knew the kid was far better off with them now, despite the occasional setbacks.

Gregory was stunned for a moment. He didn’t expect anything good to come from a present courtesy of William Afton, let alone a personal mini-bot. Noting the carabiner on his back, Gregory quickly clipped Mini Music Man to the belt loop on his cargo shorts.

“I love him… Thank you,” Gregory said honestly, looking like he was about to cry again, but held back the tears. It was, ironically, the first birthday gift he'd gotten in years. Or at least the first one he could remember. He was pulled into a side hug by William, unexpected but not completely unwarranted.

“Alright!” Michael stood up straight, clapping his hands together with a grin. “Here’s the plan for today: we can hang out here and digest breakfast, then get changed and meet the Emilys at the Pizzaplex. Sound good?”

His tea was steeped well enough now, so he picked up the cup and took a long, satisfying sip. Nursing the mug in his hands, he raised an eyebrow at William. “Think you’ll come along, Dad? I can ask if Liz and Evan want to meet there, too—make it a real party.”

Of course, there was already a private event planned tomorrow for Gregory’s actual birthday… But there was always time to host an impromptu one, even if the “party” just involved roaming the Pizzaplex playing whatever games caught their fancy.

As Gregory listened to his apparent father, William leaned over to gently tuck a lock of hair behind the boy's head in silent inspection. Not quite in a judgmental manner, though perhaps looking at the quality of his cut. Finding it very odd with the way William cared about his appearance, Gregory just let him play with his shaggy locks. It seemed to keep the old guy happy. Even if it was reminiscent of the horrible time he had in Fazerblast…

“I was planning on it. Henry left his cards at my house last Wednesday,” William replied to Mike without looking. “Should he not be in, I’m sure Samuel or Charlotte could give them back for me.”

“I wanna see Evan and Liz!” Gregory exclaimed, hoping maybe they’d have some ideas as to what was going on. Now that he was calming down, Gregory could think clearly how to go about finding out what happened to him.

“Okay, okay!” Michael laughed, holding one of his palms up as if to stop the force of Gregory’s excitement from bowling him over. At least he still had the same enthusiasm about his aunt and uncle that he always did.

Taking another long swig of tea, Michael too noted Gregory’s hair. Glancing side-long at Jeremy, by the confused look on his face it seemed like he hadn’t been responsible for the new ‘do either. Maybe Gregory did it himself? A little form of self-expression as he neared his teenage years. The half-flattened style’s reminiscence to one Mike wore in the 80's brought a little smile to his lips.

After downing the rest of his drink, Michael pulled out his phone. As he typed a message to his “Afton Bros (& Sis)” group chat, he suggested: “Greg, why don’t you chill in the living room with dad and grandpa while I get changed; I’m sure you can find some reruns of Freddy and Friends, if you want.”

Michael paused his typing, glancing up to make sure Gregory was okay with the idea. If he still wasn’t comfortable being left alone with the others, they’d make do—although Mike hoped the kid would be fine doing something as innocuous as watching TV with his dad.

Jeremy seemed to be waiting with baited breath for Gregory’s response. And, from Gregory’s perspective, he was pretty sure he could outrun William should he feel threatened. He didn’t know about Jeremy though. The guy looked like he was still fairly active for some guy in his fifties—

Not just “some guy,” Gregory thought, trying to reason with his own paranoia. He’s your other dad. And the dude made you the best pancakes. He must care about you.

“Sure!” he said, noting Jeremy perk up at his chipper response.

Jer was thankful that the strangeness of this morning had mostly blown over. Gregory was back to Earth so to speak, and he started off for the living room first—but not before giving Michael a grateful squeeze around the waist before departing from him. William stood up, using the table before him as leverage.

“You two go ahead without me; I’ll be having a smoke outside,” he warned, knowing Jeremy and Michael hated when he smoked indoors—especially around the kid.

“I wish you'd quit that habit,” Mike said with the heavy sigh of a long-standing argument. The Aftons were all stubborn in their own right, and William and Michael were the most strong-willed of them all. It was sometimes a wonder how they managed to get along as well as they did, with all the age-old bickering they got into.

Despite this, it was clear they cared for each other. With another pat to his father's shoulder as they split ways, Michael headed off to his room to get changed and clean up a bit before their outing.

***

When Mike came back downstairs, he heard one of the most pleasing sounds in the universe: the laughter of his two favorite people. Grinning from ear to ear, he stepped into the living room to see the pair sitting on the couch together, giggling at some stupid joke Jeremy was telling. The TV was on, and true to Michael's prediction the familiar animals were up to their hijinks on screen. No one really seemed to be paying attention though, and it sent a pang of warmth through Michael's heart to see Gregory and Jeremy having fun together.

“Oh god... what dumb story is Jer telling you now?” Michael asked, sinking into the cushion on Gregory's other side. “I bet Sam can hear you guys cackling from the Pizzaplex...”

Gregory had been leaning on Jeremy’s shoulder, laughing along with him. To fill Mike in, Jeremy tried his best to stop his chuckles. “I was telling Greg about that time I took over nightshift for that week, around when we first met. You remember how we had to wear those masks?”

There were various reasons why they used the masks from what Jeremy remembered. The biggest was so that the animatronics didn’t escort you back to the ‘party,’ even though opening hours were long past. Such buggy A.I….

“Remember when they found me with Bonnie hugging me? He thought I was Freddy and just bugged out. I don’t know if you knew—but I was sitting still for 4 hours,” Jeremy went on, recalling how he couldn’t move or say anything as Bonnie talked and talked. Gregory started laughing again when Jeremy retold the story, maybe not as hard but still finding that situation both horrifying and hilarious altogether.

“If our manager didn’t find me in the morning, I was going to pee myself. HE WOULDN’T LET ME GET UP,” Jeremy stressed, relating to one moment in his life where he was genuinely afraid of Bonnie, even if the bunny wasn’t trying to hurt him to begin with. The story itself was for Gregory not to feel upset when he was scared by William’s mask.

Will, who sat comfortably in a Lay-Z-Boy adjacent to the couch, had a smirk across his face. He got a silent kick out of knowing Jeremy was trapped in a confined office with one of his designs. Still, it was a good thing he wasn’t seriously hurt, or it might not have been so funny of a story for him or the business.

“That facial recognition software—always told Henry the programming had holes,” William reminisced amiably. Though technological marvels in themselves, the older models were a far cry from the Glamrocks that free-roamed the halls of the Pizzaplex.

“Gregory, you want to go change?” Michael suggested once the group had calmed down. Even if the kid loved that adorable hoodie, it was in definite need of a wash... The thin layer of dirt and dust led Mike to wonder how long he'd had the thing without their knowledge, let alone what he'd gotten into while wearing it. “We can leave once you and Jer are ready.”

Jeremy lifted one of Gregory's arms to inspect the sleeve of the hoodie with a grimace.

“Dude, please change this. These stains are probably going to set if I don't pretreat it,” he said, hoping to convince their son when it looked like he still wanted to cling to this new favored piece of clothing.

“Al-riiiight...” Gregory sighed, reluctantly unzipping his hoodie to relinquish into Jer's waiting hands.

“Thank you,” Jeremy replied, making a stop in the laundry room before heading upstairs to change. As he folded the hoodie over a few times to count all the stains he'd have to touch up, he reminded kindly: “Put your dirty clothes in the hamper, too, please—not just the floor.”

Gregory felt almost bad, abandoning the idea of Freddy as his father figure—he and the bear had gone through so much together. Apparently though, it all seemed to be a figment of his imagination.

“Sure, Dad; I'll be down in a minute!” Gregory would find no issue tidying up to keep the nice house he suddenly lived in clean, as the conditions he'd remembered living inside his dreams with those horrendous demons Rita and Terry scared him straight about being the least bit messy.

William watched Gregory go with a thoughtful look on his face, waiting until the boy was out of earshot to quirk a brow at his eldest.

“Remember when he was little and would put his underwear on the outside of his pants?” he asked, laughing softly at the memory. “I can't believe he's going to be thirteen tomorrow... It's like you two only got him yesterday.”

Michael snorted, shaking his head at the endearing recollection. One of the first times meeting his granddad, William had popped over for a surprise visit and Gregory managed to slip out of his room before Jeremy could finish helping him dress—underwear over his jeans, no shirt to be found, and one sock on inside-out. Michael had been mortified, since William was still warming up to the idea of a grandkid that wasn't his own blood... but thankfully the incident had the opposite effect, as the Afton patriarch burst out into laughter at the sight of the kid bolting out of his room with Jeremy tripping after him. From that moment on, it was clear who the favorite grandkid was (though Will would never admit this aloud).

Even if Gregory didn't share the same genetics—though it was pretty damn questionable with Evan's little face staring back at them every day—he'd somehow burrowed his way into William's heart.

When Michael and Jeremy told William that Gregory came from a bad foster house, he was ready to call the child a bad apple before setting eyes on him. He’d been fully prepared to show up at their home for a rather disappointing meeting of some random child. William didn't like admitting he was wrong—but this time he made a supremely rare exception to his own rules by apologizing for his opinions on the adoption the same night.

“I'm just glad he's adjusted so well,” Michael responded, angling his body to face his father in the recliner. They'd been warned Gregory came with some baggage, but that only made Jeremy and Mike all the more determined to provide him with a safe, loving home. 

“Mhm, me too,” William agreed, sure that they were thinking similarly as his vision trailed to the TV once more.

Gregory heard Jeremy pass his room as he searched the place for clues about his life. Anything to try and jog a memory he seemingly lost. He found journals, old stationary pages from a school he didn’t remember attending. Gregory Fitz-Afton, was his name to the fullest extent of his knowledge. He apparently owned a few gaming consoles, neatly tucked away into wooden cubbies in his room and covered in stickers and decals. A sweet-looking computer set up under his loft bed made him wish he remembered having such nice things... Maybe later he’d be able to discover more pieces to who he truly was.

When Jeremy knocked at his door and asked him if he was almost ready to leave, Gregory had to quickly shove all the evidence he was gathering back atop his dresser. From there he called that he’d be just five minutes and quickly found an outfit: jeans, tank top, flannel. A quick change, and after remembering to carry his dirty clothes to the hamper he was barreling down the stairs in no time.

“Whoa!” With a fast-step, Michael narrowly avoided getting run over by his wayward child. Tutting, he called after the disappearing figure: “No running in the house, Gregory! Thaaaank you!”

Another few minutes of final preparation and everyone was gathered by the front door. Michael patted down his pockets, making sure he had his keys and wallet—containing their priceless all-access Pizzaplex passes, of course—before looking to the group with a smile. “Okay, I think we're ready!”

With a turn of the knob the door was opened and they filed out. After making sure the house was locked tight, Michael trotted down the front steps after the others.

“We'll see you in a bit, Dad,” he said, watching William get in the little purple car. Holding up a set of keys, he jingled them in the air before tossing them to his husband. “Jer—catch! You're driving today.”

“HECK yes!” Jeremy rejoiced. After the keys landed hard into his palm, he went and opened up Gregory’s door for him before trekking over to the driver's side of the van. Before starting the engine, he made sure that Gregory was buckled—the kid tended to forget all the time and they were trying to break the bad habit in him while he was young. “Greg, you all set?” 

“Yup; let's go!” Gregory replied easily, to looking out the window. He took stock of the neighborhood—houses spaced far apart with nice, manicured lawns. It seemed pretty nice, and it was a shame Gregory still knew nothing about this place.

He only felt the car move as soon as William pulled out into the road to start speeding down the cul-de-sac. Jeremy raised a brow, easing onto the main road at a much more reasonable pace. “Ey, Mikey, is your dad trying to race me?”

Gregory preoccupied his time with inspecting the Mini Music Man, unhooking him from his belt loop and playing with his limp little legs before finding the tiniest button that powered him on. The spider-like musical creature immediately scurried up Gregory's arm, eliciting a surprised sound as the robotic companion came to rest on his shoulder. There, he played a little midi-synthesizing beat that Gregory found himself laughing at.

“Pay him no mind,” Michael said quickly, face paling at the memory of all the near-misses—and some not misses—William had caused over the years due to his frankly concerning driving. There was a reason Mike always insisted on taking their car whenever they went on family outings...

At the sound of Gregory's gasp Michael shifted around to look in the back seat, chuckling along with his son when the excited robot played its jaunty little tune.

“That's adorable,” he remarked, having to give his dad credit for his skill—even though he was sure Uncle Henry had at least a small part in the design. Assured that Gregory was okay for the moment, Michael turned back around to stare out the window, smiling as he felt Jeremy grasp his hand where it rested between the front seats.

Gregory was both astonished and relieved that the little automaton didn't try to stab him the moment of its activation. He giggled at the silly creature, entertained through the 20-minute ride from the sleepy cul-de-sac towards the inner portions of Hurricane. This area was more his speed; he knew these streets and free spots to hang around in vividly. He’d slept on these park benches, the memory of cold stone still pressed into his skin.

Gregory absently rubbed his forearms to chase away the phantom chill. If it’d all been a dream, then why did it feel so real?

Chapter Text

Thankfully, Gregory was pulled from his reverie as Jeremy posed a very important question.

“So,” the blonde started, running his thumb on the outside of Michael's palm while he spoke. “Are we doing pizza at Freddy's again tonight? Or are we going home for food?”

“Pizza...?” Gregory echoed, chasing away intrusive and betraying thoughts of unreality.

“Pizza it is, then,” Michael confirmed, meeting Gregory's gaze in the rearview mirror with a smile. The boy was being quieter than usual, a far-off look in his eyes that Mike hadn't seen in a while. He was thinking about something—likely that too-real dream he had that left him totally off-kilter for the day.

“...You know what?” Mike quirked an eyebrow, his mouth widening into a sly grin. “I think this day calls for a kitchen-sink-slush—provided we can keep out of Sam's sight. He hates it when we 'waste product' like that...”

The last part was said in a slightly mocking tone, though it was all in jest as evidenced by the twinkle in his eye. Despite Sam's reservations about raiding the soda machines to make the deadly concoction, he was always willing to turn a blind eye if the situation really called for it. Today was certainly one of those days—one mention of Gregory having bad dreams, and Mike knew Sam would straight up disable the kitchen cameras if needed so he didn't have to see his stock depleted.

Meeting Gregory's slightly confused gaze in the mirror again, Michael asked: “What do you think, Greg? Feel like rotting your teeth out with sugar today?”

Gregory perked up, very, very interested in the name alone. He met Jeremy's quick gaze in the rear-view mirror before the older man focused back on the road.

“It's been so long—how does that sound, kid?” Jeremy asked, trying hype up their son for what would be a fun trip to the Pizzaplex. Especially if the cousins were there with their parents. The only issue was finding parking on a Saturday...

“Hell yeah!” Gregory said, grasping the little musical robot on his shoulder and clipping the new friend to his belt for safekeeping.

“—Heck yeah, Greg. Come on, man.” Jer laughed. He was just glad to see Gregory coming out of the funky mood; it was hard to seriously scold the kid when he was having a fun time. After squinting at the full Pizzaplex parking lot, Jeremy glanced sidelong at his husband. “Is it right—morally—to park in the employees’ spots on my day off?”

“Jer, we practically live here,” Michael pointed out dryly. “I don't think we're gonna get in trouble with the boss if we take up a space. Plus, look—my father's already done it.”

Sure enough, there was William's bright car two spots over from them. The man himself was nowhere to be found, already wandering through the massive mall in search of his family or old business partner. Though he wasn't technically employed by the Pizzaplex, he and Henry were considered lifetime members—meaning they could do pretty much whatever they wanted. William certainly took advantage of this fact, to the great annoyance of his eldest.

With a little shake of his head, Mike unbuckled himself and hopped out before moving to open Gregory's door, snagging his hand when he exited as well. Locking up the vehicle, Jeremy was quick to join Gregory's other side, completing a three-person circuit with their son in the middle. As one they stepped through the sliding doors and entered the air-conditioned lobby of the Pizzaplex, keeping their eyes peeled for friends and family among the hundreds of guests milling about.

Everything was... the same. The decorations and vintage style décor that Gregory was familiar with graced his vision, bright neons calling out and dividing his attention every which way.

Getting through the lobby was a lot for him. Many kids were trying to get their admission stamps and parents, tired but patient, were attempting to reign in their hyperactive excitement. Gregory squeezed onto both his dads’ hands, finding himself saying honestly: “I hate crowds.”

“I know, bud. We'll be through the doors in a second! You're doing really well!” Jeremy encouraged. Since starting therapy, the constant encouragement was helping Gregory’s attitude and the way he coped in stressful situations. Reaching out, Jeremy pushed open the door and held it for his family to pass on through and into the atrium.

“Sam's gotta be in his office with all this going on,” Jeremy remarked, knowing Sam well enough at this point to correctly assume he’d leave the customer interactions up to Charlie and the Glamrocks.

Meanwhile, down by Rockstar Row, Charlie was in fact helping out with the customers. Parents didn't realize that you don't come into the Daycare and openly berate the attendant in front of the General Manager. Since taking up customer relations, she'd found that being more assertive came more naturally to her.

It did help when you had a 7 foot tall Moon-Man standing behind you for back up, though.

“Ma'am, we don't use excessive language like that here. If you can't behave properly in the Daycare, you're banned! That's it. Please sign the release form for your child and—”

“No! This is bullshit! I want my money back for the hour they spent here,” the irate patron argued. Charlie wished she could ban the woman from even existing at all, but that wasn't something she was about to say in front of other customers. “You can't possibly be the General Manager with that attitude, missy! Find me the real one so I can have him can your ass!”

Charlie bit her tongue hard, managing a decently straight face until she saw the familiar shape of the Fitz-Afton family heading towards the Daycare.

“Hm, he's off the clock. But I'm sure he'd love to speak with you. Mr. Fitz-Afton! Some assistance, please?” Charlie called, hating to do this on his day off.

Gregory squinted hard. Did he need glasses or was that lady... Charlie?!

She was older, certainly. Her big eyes still held that youthful countenance Gregory knew and loved, though her face had lengthened and thinned out with age. Honestly, he might not’ve recognized her were it not for her clothes. Despite being theme-appropriate for the Pizzaplex, the tomboyish style was something he could have seen her wear in his dream.

“Ooh, look—trouble already.” Though Michael’s words indicated annoyance, his face showed that he was fired up. No one was rude to Charlie on his watch. He smiled down at Gregory and released him, tone cheery as he cracked his knuckles. “Be right back!”

Michael didn't like conflict by any means. He simply found that sometimes it was easier to handle people with the curt edge that only his father could've raised him with. Stepping up next Charlie, he gave her a nod of acknowledgement as he turned a suddenly-cold smile on the irate mother. “Hello, ma'am—what seems to be the problem?”

“Oh, for god's sake—I'm not going to explain it again! I just want my damn money back!” the woman hissed, and from the darkness behind him Mike heard a little tut of discomfort.

“She's in quite the mood, Michael... such naughty language near all these impressionable little ears,” Moon muttered softly. Holding his hand was the woman's daughter, standing half in the dim light of the pick-up area and looking very upset.

“Well, I'm sorry our services weren't to your satisfaction,” Michael continued easily, his smile showing far too many teeth. Taking the release form from Charlie's hand, he held it out again. “As my General Manager told you, unfortunately you've been banned from the Daycare for use of foul language. In any event, no refunds are offered unless proven neglect or injury occurs on our end, which doesn't seem to be the case here. Please sign the release form—”

“Oh, fuck this!”

In a fit of rage the woman smacked the clipboard out of Michael's hands, sending it clattering across the floor. A blanket of silence settled over the Daycare, save for the bright, ambient music that played in the background during opening hours.

“...Charlie—” Michael began, the friendly mask now completely gone. “—can you please radio security and ask which of our Glamrock friends is closest and available? We need a guest escort.”

Oh no—she did not just smack the clipboard out of Michael Fitz-Afton’s hand. With the speed of one of those sharpshooting cowboys in an old spaghetti western, Charlie flipped a walkie-talkie from her belt and spoke into it.

“Any band members nearby? We need security by Superstar Daycare. We've got a Karen,” she said calmly, watching as the nuclear reactors melted down inside the mother's head. The rage was only being held back by a very thin shred of awareness as Michael's far too friendly smile had dropped into an instantly pissed off demeanor. Charlie loved it when he did that, even if it admittedly creeped her out. It always took people off-guard and their reactions made up for an otherwise stressful day.

Over the radio, there was an immediate response from the toughest girl in the mall. Roxy growled over the static: “You in trouble Charlie? Monty and I are at the end of Rockstar Row!”

Gregory balled his free hand into a fist. Getting ready to watch the Glamrocks fight some rude Mom would be a great way to start the day off. Jeremy hated these sort of parents as much as the next guy, but watching it all go down was not something he liked doing—especially with his own impressionable kid at his hip. All he ever did was think of how rough it must be for the child to watch their parents have a meltdown when they couldn't admit they were in the wrong.

“Nuts to this, Greg; let's not watch this. It might get messy,” he advised, much to his son's chagrin.

“But they're gonna beat her up!” Gregory protested, making his dad roll his eyes good-naturedly while he chose to escort his son just a little farther away.

“Right—well when they start putting wrestling moves on her, I don't want Monty tagging you in,” he teased back. The woman didn't like the idea of being kicked out with force, and was half-inclined to start filming with her phone before Roxy and Monty came stomping over.

“Alright—” Roxy huffed, making sure her mane was tied back in a loose pony tail since people have on rare occasion grabbed for her and pulled locks of well-groomed hair from her synthetic scalp. A scan and a quick profile search in, and Roxy was quick to demand that: “Veronica? You and your daughter Mandy have to come with us to the exit now. You're on temporary ban for the next seven days.”

“Oh, shut up!” Veronica exclaimed, though her demeanor was noticeably shaky as she stared up at the huge robots with far too many teeth.

“I’d listen to them if I were you,” Michael advised, all traces of a smile gone as he crossed his arms over his chest. “These two are not very patient when it comes to rowdy parents…”

“Y-You can’t touch me!” the woman insisted as the animatronics took a step closer in unison. “I’ll sue—”

“I can’t, but they can—as our security system, they’re programmed to remove threats. And you, ma’am, have just used physical violence against me and are now considered a danger to the other patrons.” Michael shrugged; it was as simple as that. He was tired now and just wanted to spend some quality time with his family. With a lazy wave of his hand, he instructed: “Monty, will you please remove this woman from the premises? Roxy, take her daughter out as well.”

“You got it, Mike!” the gator bellowed, wasting no time in grabbing the woman—carefully, as his programming made it 98% impossible to cause accidental harm to humans and 100% impossible to cause intentional damage—and hoisting her to rest over a shoulder pad. She’d be relatively comfortable if she wasn’t literally kicking and screaming. Monty simply held firm, his tail swaying to counterbalance the angry woman’s thrashing.

“Alright, little moonbeam, it’s time to go with Miss Roxy now,” Moon said in that hushed, gravelly voice. He too hated children seeing their parents act up, but sometimes it was unavoidable. With gentle prompting, he passed the tiny girl over to the wolf, who was quick to take her hand in Moon’s stead.

“Okay, sweetie! We’ll be outside in no time!” Roxy promised, whisking her away while attempting to make the girl smile. It was always hard letting these kids go with people who themselves acted like children. There was nothing more she could do, though. Roxy wasn’t programmed to be a permanent caretaker, after all.

Charlie was thankful for Mike’s intervention, though hated that no one believed the woman when she asserted her title as General Manager. Resting her tried forehead against his shoulder, Charlie sighed in relief. “Thank you! That lady was a nightmare!”

Luckily the nightmare customers were few and far between. She then saw Jeremy on the approach with one of her favorite kids, and Charlie’s stressed expression instantly flipped to one of happiness.

“Are we doing family day?!” she asked, a little spark of the young Charlie that Gregory knew peeking through the wisdom-aged glint in her eyes. “You guys picked a good day! Evan’s hanging out with Sam and Dad in the office.”

“Sweet! You feel like taking a break and joining us?” Jeremy asked, ready to convince her—but after that interaction, Charlie didn’t need to be swayed and responded with an eager nod before he finished his sentence.

“Perfect!” Michael exclaimed, his smile easy-going and content. “Yeah, I asked Liz and Evan to meet us here. My dad’s wandering around too, though by now he’s either found Henry or is horribly lost again.”

“Uncle Will? Getting lost? What—no, he has the mind of steel-trap remember?” Charlie snickered, drawing a chortle from Jeremy at the wild things they’d quote William saying.

Will’s ability to go anywhere in the Pizzaplex came at a cost: the building was so massive compared to any prior Fazbear establishment, it was easy to take a wrong turn in the employee hallways and end up in some liminal-feeling back room. It didn’t happen that often nowadays, though Mike would still get the occasional call from his dad while on duty to:

“Hurry the hell up and get me out of here, Michael! I’m not getting any younger…”

This thought tangent made Mike let out a snort, though he shook his head at the other’s questioning gazes and began walking towards Sam’s office. He made sure to keep Gregory’s hand securely in his own the whole time.

“Bye, Moon!” he called as the group made their exit through the darkly-lit area.

“Bye everyone; thank you, ehehehe,” the lanky animatronic cackled, paying special mind to the younger boy. “Good to see you, Gregory!”

Ah, the good old Daycare attendant. They didn't seem out of the ordinary with their mannerisms. Same with Roxy and Monty—from the short glimpse Gregory had been able to get, they’d seemed like their normal selves.

“Bye Moon! I'll hang out with you later!” he replied. Who knew—maybe the more talkative Sun could help fill in the gaps of his memory.

The closer the group drew to the office, the harder Gregory clung to them. Although outwardly he was smiling and content, the boy held reservations. What else was different from what he remembered? It wasn’t necessarily the changes, but the uncertainty of it all that bothered him the most.

Charlie hadn't bothered knocking, letting herself into the office and holding open the door to Sam's little executive clubhouse and personal workspace. Her and Michael's fathers were sitting at the workbench in the corner, playing cards and drinking from short, clear glasses. Relaxing at the couch was a severely-less stressed looking Samuel. Even the grey streaks in his hair seemed minimal from the last time Gregory saw him. Now that Charlie resembled her real age, Gregory could see why they were twins.

“Oh no, not these guys!” Samuel groaned teasingly, getting up to come and greet the rest of the family. Seeing Sam this energetic almost gave Gregory whiplash.

“Yup, trouble has officially arrived!” Mike announced, releasing Gregory to hook an arm around Sam’s neck and give him a noogie. While Sammy fought off his old friend, another familiar-yet-new face came up to meet them.

“Hi, Jeremy!” Evan greeted warmly, going for the blonde first since his biological brother was preoccupied. His face really hadn’t changed much from when he was a kid—it was a bit thinner and covered in laugh lines like the others', but putting him and Gregory next to each other would still show an uncanny resemblance.

After giving his brother-in-law a hug, Evan knelt down in front of Greg with a soft smile. If there was anyone who understood the boy’s emotional intricacies, it was the man who’d cried at his own shadow when he was a kid. 

“Hey, mini-me!” Evan chuckled in that same soft tone Gregory knew, just deepened a bit with age. He held out his arms, always offering a hug but never offended if it wasn’t reciprocated, a wide grin crinkling the corners of his dark brown eyes. “How’s my faaaavorite nephew today?”

Gregory was almost speechless. This was... Evan?! Aged by forty-odd years and taller than he ever expected the kid to get if he was alive.

Alive —

Of course he was alive. Shit, that dream had really messed with Gregory’s head.

Gregory fell forward and gave Evan the biggest squeeze around the shoulders he could. No longer were they the Pizzaplex twins, but uncle and nephew. Burying his face into Evan's shoulder, Gregory realized that even if this all was some manner of strange hallucination, he was glad to be in a reality where everyone was living.

“I'm so much better now,” he said with confidence. Everyone was happy and safe; it was something he never thought he’d see. Over Evan's shoulder, Gregory watched as William folded down his cards and quickly batted Henry playfully on the arm.

“You're cheating, Hen—where's the cards in your sleeve? You can't use my own tricks on me!” William could be heard saying over his own laughter as he patted down Henry's sleeves for extra cards on his person.

Sam was put in a helpless headlock, struggling to break free from Michael's grip as Charlie watched on, laughing at the two goons she'd spent her entire life with. You'd think after so many years she'd grow tired of Sam and Michael always trying to one-up each other with their wrestling moves. Yet here she was, still giggling like it was backyard wrestling at the Aftons’ in '83.

Gregory closed his eyes, unsure if he wanted to let go of Evan just yet, gripped by an emotion he seldom felt. It was a complete feeling. Like, for once, everything was right with the world.

As Jeremy recognized the long look in his gaze, he warned Evan: “Uh-oh; he's not gonna let go of you now, you know.”

To which Gregory went back and hid his face in Evan's arm. Something Jeremy found so dang cute.

“That’s fine with me!” Evan replied with a chuckle. He had no idea what happened this morning, but it was clear the kid had been spooked. He wasn’t usually this clingy… not that Evan minded in the slightest. Still—

“Although at some point you’re gonna have to fight the triplets off,” he remarked, his eyes growing softer at their mention. Finally done pestering Sam, Michael had tuned into the conversation at just the right time.

“Oh, are they here?!” he asked with a grin. “How’s Kelley doing, by the way?”

Evan’s little triplets just turned seven and were the light of his life, not to mention a top highlight of everyone else’s. Two boys and one girl made the house he shared with his wife Kelley buzz with energy—and it was about to get even livelier with another kid on the way.

“Yes they are, and she’s doing great,” Evan replied brightly, standing up when Gregory finally released him. He didn’t move though, putting a hand on Gregory’s head as comforting reassurance for whatever the kid was going through. “Cassidy’s actually with them right now since Kel picked up a last-minute shift—last I heard she was trying to wrangle them into Mazercise.”

Kelley was only a few months along, so she was still able to perform her job as an NP in a small clinic. She was one of the top practitioners, which meant she was often called in to cover shifts when others couldn’t. If not for his best friend stepping in as surrogate aunt when Liz wasn’t around, Evan didn’t know what he’d do…

“We’ll have to stop by and see them later!” Mike promised. When his gaze shifted to Gregory, the boy’s face yet again showed immense confusion. This time he was trying to hide it, but he wasn’t as good at that as he thought he was—not to his dads, at least.

Gregory had caught Michael’s worried glance and tried quickly to wipe the look of surprise off his face. Four kids… Four? Maybe even more if Evan had another set of multiples.

Gregory was still confused beyond a doubt, but at least the sad boy he met in the basement of the Pizzaplex seemed to be doing pretty well these days. These weren’t just any kids Evan had, either—they were apparently Gregory’s cousins, too. His family was suddenly way bigger than it was before, with more members to expect on the way. He had an Aunt Kelley, and Cassidy was still in their lives, apparently unable to leave Evan alone even without the entrapment of their shared Fredbear tomb.

“Where is Liz, anyway?” Gregory decided to ask, figuring it was normal to question while he tried his hardest not to appear lost in the verbal sauce.

“She’s in her little workshop—you know how we’re trying to get an extension on the mall? Liz is drawing up designs for the Glamrock Circus characters,” Sam revealed, knowing the upcoming secret project was safe in this room.

“I don’t know why you kids want to keep bringing back the 80’s. You all were so eager to get out of that era, and now you can’t leave it alone…,” William voiced, sorting the cards while looking to Henry to see if he agreed. Surely he wasn’t the only one who remembered how fast they all wanted to grow up.

“Much as I hate to admit, Will’s got a point,” Henry conceded, smiling gently even as his leg was kicked under the table and he returned the gesture tenfold. “I think it’s the nostalgia factor.”

“Hey, we might’ve been annoying kids, but we were happy for the most part,” Michael laughed, nudging Evan to make him agree.

“Mm, for the most part,” he hummed, giving Mike a knowing look. There’d been a short period of time where Michael fell in with the wrong crowd as a teen and bullied Evan near-relentlessly… but one day he came to his senses, ditched his “friends” and apologized to his brother for being such a shithead, and the rest was history. Even so, Evan never quite let Mike live that unfortunate part of their lives down—though nowadays it was only spoken of in teasing reminiscence.

Michael Afton could never be so mean.

“You should go see her—I’m sure Lizzie needs a break!” Henry encouraged, glancing up from the table after slapping a card down and grinning at Will’s outraged cry.

“I’ll go with you!” Evan volunteered, raising one hand while ruffling Gregory’s hair with the other. “Might as well track down those little rascals afterwards before they or Cassidy lose their minds…”

“Oh, please; Cas already lost that years ago,” Charlie reminded the group. The pair hadn't always been on the best of terms as kids, but after realizing they’d be in each other’s lives for the foreseeable future the girls were able to work through their differences. “June should be hanging out with them in Mazercise. You better go say hi.”

Charlie said it like a warning, but the smile in her eyes let Gregory know it wasn't so imperative. Gregory knew at this point he would have to start responding to these things. Michael and Jeremy were growing increasingly more aware that something strange was going on with him, and Gregory didn't want to raise anymore alarm bells.

“Is it cool if we both get sodas?” he asked, thinking a more neutral answer was safe for now.

Charlie, not suspecting much, told him: “Sure! You brought your Best Friend Card right? If you didn't, I've got some cash—”

“No worries Charlie! I've got Gregory's card,” Jeremy interjected. Always prepared, he dug into his beat up old wallet and pulled out Gregory's all-access pass.

“Anyone else coming with?” Michael question. He met Jeremy’s gaze, eyes twinkling playfully. “Besides you, of course—I’m stuck with you.”  

Jeremy matched the grin to a tee, replying in a rather smug tone. “You couldn't get rid of me for over 20 years, dude; of course you're stuck with me. Also, I hid the receipt.”

“I've got payroll to do—plus babysitting these guys,” Sam responded to Michael’s question, nodding to the men playing cards behind him.

When Gregory glanced over, William had smoothly produced two aces from the same sleeve and entered them into his hand before tossing his cards down on the table along with Henry. It almost worked—but Henry had four aces.

“See? You're cheating. I knew it!” William exclaimed, and it was hard to tell if his fury was genuine or not.

“Dad…” Evan couldn’t help but sigh, knowing it pointless to mention they were both clearly cheating in increasingly obvious ways. Especially when Henry responded with a jovial:

“Takes one to know one, buddy!”

—which started a squabbling argument that neither of the old fogies was ever going to win.

“Right… well, you have fun with that, Sammy,” Michael said with a grin, patting his friend on the back. After a second, Mike perked up as he remembered something. “Oh, you wanted us to check out Freddy after his new software update, right? I’m guessing he’s in his room—we’ll stop by sometime today and give you a report.”

“I’d do it sooner than later,” Henry piped up, stalling the argument over cards for a moment. “Bonnie’s been getting on my poor children’s cases about his friend being MIA, and I don’t want any of them to blow a gasket…”

Evan tried to put on a sympathetic face, though he couldn’t help but snicker at the mental image of smoke pouring out of Sam and Charlie’s ears from frustration at the overly-attentive bunny.

Michael chuckled as well. “Alright, we can swing by after we visit Liz.” He glanced down at Gregory and gave his hand a little squeeze. “Sound good, kiddo?”

“Yeah! I need to talk to Freddy anyway,” Gregory told them. It probably wasn't out of the ordinary for Gregory to want to see the bear regularly; clearly, Freddy was his favorite character regardless of circumstance.

Gregory tugged lightly on Michael’s arm to get him moving. Feeling Jeremy bump into his side as well, he decided to take his other dad’s hand in his and tried to rationalize the situation in simple terms: if Michael trusted these people, so did he—until he was given a reason not to. Which, hopefully, would never happen.

William took a deep swig from his glass. Reaching across the table to refresh both his and Henry's cups, he warned: “You'll be a good boy and not climb inside Freddy's chest compartment again, right, Gregory? I'd feel so terrible if you hurt yourself in one of those robots.”

The worry on his face was so genuine, it made Gregory wonder what the purpose of it all was when he did it before. He could feel the claustrophobic thrumming of Freddy’s internal mechanisms as he sandwiched himself between a gap in the bear’s endoskeleton. In his dreams, Gregory was running away from things trying to kill him… most notably, the very same man who apparently couldn’t stand the thought of him getting hurt by the very same bot.

Gregory nodded his understanding, feeling somewhat bad as his worried grandfather shuffled his and Henry's cards anew. “I won’t, Pappy.”

“He'll be fine, Dad,” Michael reassured with an easy smile. He knew William was just being paranoid, despite the fact that Gregory hadn't tried to climb inside an animatronic in a while—at least, not to Michael's knowledge.

Evan took the lead, walking confidently through employee-only passages and waving to staff as he went. It wasn't a secret when the Afton and Emily heirs were around, as they were so involved in other family members' franchises the staff quickly learned to memorize their faces due to frequent surprise visits. While Evan didn't work in the Pizzaplex—he was perfectly content to manage his own smaller, homier diner branch of Fazbear Entertainment—there was no mistaking his kind face as someone of great importance.

Gregory was treated much the same way, though arguably with more genuine greetings than his elder family members received. It wasn't that any of the heirs were unlikeable—though Michael had scared quite a few staff on occasion with his calm and collected lectures underlain with veiled threats—it was just that they were so important it was intimidating.

But Gregory? Yes, he was right up there in the status quo, but he was still just a kid—and dealing with kids is what the members of the Pizzaplex knew how to do best.

Soon enough, the group reached a door hidden away from the usual path of employees rushing to and fro. Michael rapped on the wood three times before pushing it open. “Liz? I brought visitors...”

Liz was dressed down today in overalls and an old painting shirt as she worked. Finishing the latest designs was something she was being particular about, having thrown away half the original concepts and finding herself in a creative rut. At Michael's voice, Liz was quick to break concentration and turn around in her office chair.

“Visitors? You brought a whole party; hey, guys!” she remarked as the group filed into the office. Meeting the youngest boy’s eyes, Lizzie waved him over with a sense of urgency. “Gregory! Quick, I need your opinion on Circus Baby and Ballora.”

Gregory was fast to let go of his father's hands to do some investigating, curiously coming to peep the watercolor characters Liz painted in her sketchbook. Circus Baby looked far less uncanny then her predecessor, as well as Ballora. While Ballora seemed to still take role as a dancer, Baby's design leaned more towards that of a pop singer.

“They're cool! They're not as weird... They kind of look like they're from like—the 90's maybe.”

Liz groaned at this, closing the book even as it was still drying.

“I'm sorry I hate shoulder pads.” Elizabeth stressed before pulling Gregory in for an aggressive hug. “How ARE you, sweetie? Did you cut your hair?” Deft fingers played with the mullet Gregory seemed to obtain between last Wednesday and now.

No, Charlie did, Gregory thought. Outwardly, he shrugged and decided to act cool about it. “Just needed something different.”

“I think it's cute—er, cool. Super cool.” Evan tried to cover his slip, knowing that if his seven-year-olds hated being called cute, surely the almost-thirteen-year-old would despise it. He hummed as he assessed the style, noting: “Kinda reminds me of Mike's hair when we were growing up. Remember how you'd lock yourself in the bathroom for hours? God, it was so annoying…”

A tiny flush of red graced Michael's cheeks as his little brother jabbed an elbow into his side. “Look, it was called fashion, Evan. I was just doing what everyone else did back then.”

“Mm... I think you just wanted to impress—”

“So, Liz—” Michael cut off whatever Evan was about to say, moving to his sister’s side and slinging an arm around her shoulders. “Uncle Henry says you need a break—wanna come visit Freddy and then go find Evan’s kids?”

Evan rolled his eyes at Mike’s poor attempt to deflect, shooting a knowing look at the other Afton-Fitzgeralds. Michael had never been one for subtlety, so it was always obvious when someone caught his attention in a way others hadn’t. As for Liz taking a break, she bounced up from her chair and stretched her arms above her head to get her circulation going again.

“I’m so glad you all showed up—I was about to start atrophying,” she lamented, then threw a smirk at her big brother’s clear embarrassment.

“We gotta go see Freddy first!” Gregory reminded the group, reminding Charlie and the others that he had an ant in his pants about beta-testing Freddy’s new updates. It came as no surprise to the others. What with Freddy being his favorite and Gregory’s interest in coding, who could blame the kid?

“Yes, yes—Freddy first, as always,” Michael chuckled, shuffling his son towards the door.

Chapter Text

Without fail every time they visited the Pizzaplex, after family check-in Gregory’s goal was to immediately find Freddy and say hello. Even if he had other plans for the day, the kid made sure to track down the huge bear and at least give him a quick hug before scampering off. It was endearing, and Mike was grateful that Freddy seemed to love Gregory just as much as he did. Whether this was because the kid was technically an Afton or simply because he spent so much time with the animatronic was anyone’s guess, but no sane person would deny that the robot seemed to have a soft spot for the little ball of energy.

Gregory led the way at first, though as the crowds started to spill back in he deferred to Michael’s side and let Liz take the lead. Eager to be free of the tiny workshop, her pace was fast and direct while she headed towards Rockstar Row. The area was just as Gregory remembered, with the Glamrocks’ rooms lined up neatly. All the curtains were open except for Freddy’s, and there was a sign outside the plush red velvet that read:

SORRY! FREDDY IS RESTING, BUT WILL BE BACK ONSTAGE SOON!

It was Evan who knocked on the door, seeming nearly as eager to see the bear as Gregory. Despite his horrible fear of animatronics as a kid, he’d grown to love them—especially as their designs became friendlier and friendlier.

“Fredbear, it’s Evan and some of the family!” the man called, and a heavy shuffling could he heard in the room.

“Come in!” responded the deep, familiar voice. Evan obliged, opening the door just long enough for the family to squeeze in before guests saw and thought they were getting special treatment.

There standing in the center of the floor was Glamrock Freddy, as shiny and pristine as the day Gregory first met him. His smile was as warm as a robot’s could get as he catalogued today’s visitors, and of course his focus was immediately directed to the sole child of the group.

“Gregory!” he exclaimed, kneeling down and holding his arms out for a hug. “It is so good to see you, superstar!”

It was him, just as he remembered from his dream.

“Freddy!” Gregory found himself shouting, careful not to call him Dad. Still, the urge persisted even as Gregory fell hard against Freddy; the stalwart mechanical bear was a steady rock in an ocean of uncertainty right then. Gregory knocked hard against the bot, deriving a loud “Aww!” from his Aunt Liz as he flocked quickly to his idol.

She hoped that Gregory never got too old for these characters. His love for Freddy never failed to bring a contagious smile to her face, watching as Gregory nestled in before remembering exactly why they came here to begin with.

Pulling back after the short but intense embrace, Gregory sighed with relief that the bear seemed pretty much the same overall. “Boy did I miss you, Freddy…”

Then, it was down to business. Hopefully Gregory could start getting some answers around here.

“Are you feeling okay? Notice anything weird?” he interrogated, scrutinizing every slight flex of the emotional responses he saw in Freddy’s eyes and ears.

“I am feeling wonderful; thank you for asking!” Freddy replied brightly, still crouched to speak on Gregory's level. His incandescent blue eyes tracked the boy's movements as normal, and they flicked up to Michael when he bent at Gregory's side.

“I hear you got a big software update,” Mike remarked with a grin, examining him with the same ferocity his son was. “Sammy asked us to check in and make sure you're doing good.”

“Your concern is greatly appreciated,” Freddy replied, not minding the scrutiny in the slightest. Looking back to Gregory, he added: “I am not sure what you define as 'weird,' superstar... but I did receive an alert regarding a security threat in the Daycare earlier, though Roxanne and Monty seem to have taken care of it.”

“Yeah, irate parent.” Michael stood, shrugging with a little huff. “We got it sorted, so no worries.”

“Ah... I am sorry you had to deal with that.” There was a beat of silence, until Freddy reached out a blue-clawed paw to gently push Gregory's choppy bangs out of his face. His head tilted curiously, looking the boy up and down with an appraising gaze. “Gregory... are you feeling alright? My health scan indicates a mildly elevated heartrate indicative of anxiety.”

Too late, the bear realized Gregory might not want to go into that topic—although at least Freddy stopped before mentioning the word “nightmares.” The boy had confided in him many a time about his dreams, and since they weren't a direct, physical threat to his well-being Freddy didn't feel compelled to share all the details with his guardians. It was no secret they talked, but still... Gregory had explicitly said he didn't like bringing the topic up around anyone but his dads, and here he was mentioning it with Evan and Liz in the room.

Ah, well. He was just a robot after all, and even the most advanced AI can err.

Michael did say it was alright to be honest. Gregory was around people that understood him and his situation. Everyone already seemed to know he was a little different...

“No, my heart feels like it's gonna explode. I've been really anxious all day.” That was the shortest explanation he could give. Hopefully, it would take suspicion away from him and his sudden bout of amnesia. Gregory laughed; it was humorless and unconvincing to his parents and the guardians around him. “I woke up inside the ball pit in my backyard after a REALLY long nightmare...”

After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence on his part, the façade of calm shortly fading before he fumbled for the little robot on his belt loop. “Look though! Pappy gave me this little guy! I'm gonna call him Ditty.”

He held the spider-like musical bot flat in his small palms. The little guy shimmied slightly and played a midi tune while waving to Freddy, and Gregory desperately hoped the little bit of good news would mask how fucked up he was really feeling.

Jeremy looked to Michael, unsure of what to do. Gregory was indeed acting strangely. “Greg, let us know if you need to take a minute to yourself... I'm worried you're gonna get a burnout today.”

It'd happened before: Gregory trying to take on the stress of socializing and having full-on panic attack without either his or Michael's knowledge until he was deep in the throes of stress. It was painful to watch and sometimes even harder to get Gregory to talk about what set him off. Though it certainly gave Jeremy a bit of hope that he'd feel alright, given he mentioned this nightmare he had. Even if he didn't go into details, even just admitting it was a huge step.

“I-I'll be fine, Dad. Promise,” Gregory assured, holding Ditty tenderly in his mitts, careful not to squish or restrict his free movement as the little music man played a sympathetic score for him. Ditty wasn't big like Freddy; all he could do was hug his thumb to show his support.

“Hey, trust me, kiddo—” Evan smiled down at Gregory with a hint of worry deep in his eyes. “—the worst thing you can do is hold it in or not take a second to breathe. Remember how I told you I used to get scared all the time?” He shook his head, glancing to the floor with a far-off gaze. “I can't tell you how many times I tried to push past it and just ended up crying on the floor...”

Sometimes, Evan's honesty was jarring. The adults all knew about his past, of course—Michael and Liz lived through it, and Jeremy absorbed the information through stories and osmosis of being tied to the Aftons for 20-odd years. Evan found that the connection with Gregory, though admittedly not a fun one, made it easy to understand what he was going through to a degree. If he could help his nephew in any capacity when it came to emotional setbacks, he'd jump at the chance.

“...What Evan's trying to say is don't bottle it all in, okay?” Michael clarified after a moment, running a hand through Gregory's hair. “We're always here for you.” His eyes drifted to the large animatronic and he couldn't help letting out a soft chuckle. “Even Freddy. You can turn off Papa Bear mode, Fred—he's going to be alright.”

“Ah... I apologize if my focus was unnerving,” the robot stated, finally getting back to his feet. He'd been watching Gregory intently, analyzing for further signs of distress. Bad dreams weren't nearly as easy to treat as bruises—Moon would be the best animatronic for consolation regarding that topic. Regardless, Freddy still knew a few ways to comfort a child, and a topic change was a good one. With another bright smile, he held out a claw for Ditty. “That is a wonderful little invention! May I hold him for a moment?”

It wasn't Gregory’s intention to worry anyone, and while that was partly why he was apprehensive to tell them much, he had to talk at some point. The boy bit his tongue, feeling the distinct and sudden sting of tears about to break. Against Evan's advice, he held it all in after hearing Michael's words.

Papa Bear...

“Yeah… Yeah, here hold your palm out flat. There you go, Ditty...” Gregory offered the little man up for Freddy to take. The mini musician scuttled into Freddy's palm immediately, waving his teeny arms at him to get his attention while playing an entirely new midi. Toreador's March chimed through his crystal clear speaker.

Gregory watched the two interact out of the corner of his eye, leaning into Michael with a half-buried face as he knew he wouldn't be able to hide emotional distress from Freddy's ever-watchful sensors. It was hard being a priority sometimes. It meant he couldn't hide.

Maybe his uncle was right. He needed the issues to come into the light to stop feeling so badly.

But how do you explain a dream so messed up, it incepted your very memories?

Briefly surprised, Gregory pointed out: “Oh that's a new song...”  

Michael didn't hesitate to lift Gregory up and hold him against his chest, one arm underneath to keep him stable and the other wrapped securely around his back. Most thirteen-years-olds would cringe at the thought of their parents holding them like this, but Mike was secretly grateful Gregory didn't mind. The day he refused to be picked up would mark a turning point that meant he was growing up, and Mike didn't know how in the world he was going to deal with that.

When the little music man started playing a new tune, Michael huffed a laugh that shook Gregory slightly in his arms.

“Oh my god... one of the earlier Freddy models used to play that,” he explained, watching the robot with interest. 

“Oh yeaaaah,” Evan drawled, vaguely remembering the pizzeria Michael referred to. “That was one of Fredbear's idle songs, right? Man, I swear dad never forgets anything those guys performed...”

It was nice how William's gift brought back little memories for each other them. Charlie found herself sighing contently at the music. “Yep—that's a classic...”

It was such a long time ago. The older models long-since retrofitted with newer AI to keep up with the popularity of the Pizzaplex. Still, their old vintage charms never escaped the grownups even now. Charlie could almost hear the music box at the prize counter, Grandfather's Clock perpetually stuck in her head given how long she stayed by her Puppet's side.

Elizabeth watched in awe at the teeny marvel. Looking to Jeremy, a devious little smirk slid across her face. “Still have that fear of Music Man, Jer?”

“No way!” He laughed, albeit sounding nervous when Liz didn't look quite convinced. Ditty was fine! It was the big fella in the West Arcade that made him nervous. Looking to Gregory now, he told their kid: “We don't talk much about the old locations. We should try to find our old photo albums later! That'll jog some good memories of the place.”

Gregory was previously under the impression that working for any of the old locations was a complete nightmare. The things Evan told him were few and far between, but with Michael to constantly remind him that it was a surprise to everyone in the community that their family was never run out of town from gross incompetence shocked him to his core.

Grasping Charlie's arm, Liz asked her: “Wait—remember when our dads got into that screaming match in the back parking lot at Fredbear’s?”

Holding her friend back, Charlie's eyes went wide. “Oh my GOD! Yes! Our moms made them hug it out!”

William and Henry liked to yell at each other. It usually wasn't for real, as they both would just get equally excited about things that annoyed them mutually. Though their mothers hadn't exactly liked them screaming in front of the kids, so in an effort to seem more “normal” they had the two CEOs hug it all out instead. The two made it a point for the next week to hug in front of their wives, much to the poor women’s annoyance.

“Your mom was fed up!” Charlie reminisced, showing Gregory just how warped his perception of everyone was in his dream.

“They’re ridiculous,” Michael agreed with a shake of his head.

Freddy, who’d been completely content to listen to the family reminisce, used the lull in conversation to hand Ditty back to Gregory. “What a sweet new friend; be sure not to lose him!”

Just then, a chiming jingle issued forth from Evan’s pockets. He pulled out his phone, making a face with a muttered “Uh-oh” as he checked the caller ID. “Hey, Cas—”

“Evan, I love your little gremlins but will you please come get them before they melt my ears off?”

Faint screeching could be heard in the background, and Evan winced at the distinctive sound of his triplets annoying the crap out of his best friend. Even the others could hear despite the lack of speakerphone, as evidenced by Michael’s brows shooting up to his hairline. When with their parents, Evan’s kids were little angels. But when they were with a babysitter…

“Yup, noted; on the way asap!” Evan responded, clicking off the phone before Cassidy could gripe at him more. He was already going to get an earful in person. Looking to the others, he gave a short laugh. “Heh… guess that’s our cue to get moving. Bye, Freddy!”

“Goodbye!” the friendly bear waved, and everyone wished him well in succession. He saved Gregory for last, gently ruffling his hair with that happy grin. “I will see you again soon, superstar—please do not hesitate to visit anytime you wish!”

Gregory was preoccupied with clipping Ditty back onto his belt loop. It was jarring to be taken away from his friend so quickly, but his cousins were growing impatient. Though Gregory wasn't sure how much he'd like hanging around little kids so much… He hoped June was more around his age.

“Bye, Freddy!” Gregory called, grasping onto his father's shoulder as the group made it for the door. Alas, there was no time to ask Freddy about what was happening in his life. The visit was over so fast because of Cassidy's distress call. She could clearly only take so much babysitting before Evan's kids took over Mazercise with their overwhelming hyperactivity.

As they approached Chica's noisy attraction, Gregory grumbled and buried his face hard into Mike's shoulder. “It's loud in there.”

“You don't have to stay in there long if you don't want to. Just let us know where you're going, got it?” Jeremy said, reaching up to pat Gregory’s shoulder. It was fine if he wandered off, so long as he could find Gregory after he left.  

They’d barely opened the door to Mazercise before Evan was set upon by a group of three identical children. The Afton genes were strong, since—unbeknownst to Gregory unless he remembered looking in old photo albums—the kids were nearly a spitting image of young Michael… meaning they also shared quite a bit of William’s looks as well.

“DAD!” they cried in unison, nearly bowling Evan over with the force of their combined hug. He’d preemptively braced himself, feet locked in position as six hands tried to wrap around his waist.

“Hi, munchkins!” Evan greeted warmly, wrapping them in a bear hug. With an apologetic smile, his eyes lifted to Cassidy meandering nearby. “Thanks again for taking them, Cas. Hopefully they weren’t too much to handle…?”

Gregory had looked over the various kids. Oh man, how was he going to tell the difference between them? They were all nearly identical and with the way they all swarmed Evan, he couldn't keep track of them as they circled their father like hawks. Cassidy, with her messy black hair set up in a curly low bun and hands on her hips shook her head at her friend.

“Not yet! Glad you came when you did, though; I couldn't hold them back for much longer,” she laughed, rolling up the sleeves of her loose-fitting top as she said her hello's to the group. Judging by the bags under her eyes, she was getting pretty tired and needed the well-deserved break from babysitting.

When Gregory was caught in Cassidy's stare, he immediately knew what was coming. Despite the obvious age difference, there was no doubt the snippy girl was going to pick on him—

“Evan's clone! Good to see you, buddy,” she subverted, smiling sweetly at Gregory. It made him want to question her and everything he knew all over again.

Who the hell are you and what did you do with Cassidy?! his mind screamed. Would Cassidy turn out to be sort of nice were she not a vengeful spirit? In a strange way, Gregory would almost rather she picked on him at least a little bit, even if his feelings weren't going to be spared.

“Hey, Cassidy,” Gregory greeted, cut off as he felt something poking his dangling leg. A girl with dark hair and a face full of freckles stood beside him, nudging Gregory to get his attention.

“What are you doing all the way up there?” she asked, somewhat annoyed. The girl’s tone was muffled, mouth full of candy as the stick of a lollipop stuck out from the corner of her lips. It was clear who she was without anyone even saying: this was Charlie's daughter, as she was the spitting image of his friend when she was much younger and closer to what Gregory knew.

“Uh... It's got a nice view?” Gregory said, managing to bring a smile to June's face.

“Well, get down here. You don't get to be taller than me yet,” she scolded, a playful smile forming over her candy-stained mouth. She seemed fairly nonthreatening; the way she spoke to Gregory sounded as if they’d been long-time friends.

Gregory poked his dad now, queuing for him to let him down to say hi.

“You just wait, June,” Michael teased as he set Gregory back on solid ground. “One day you’re going to turn around and Gregory’s shot up like a beanpole.”

Jeremy couldn't stand the thought. One day their son was going to be just as, if not taller than himself. Another sobering reminder that he was quickly growing before their eyes, along with the rest of the tikes in the family.

“Don’t remind me of that possibility,” Evan remarked with a slightly pained expression. “That means it could happen to these ones, too…”

“Daaaad!” the sole girl whined, tugging Evan’s pant leg. Now that greetings were over, it was time for business. She stared up at him with hands on her hips not unlike Cassidy—perhaps Evan’s bestie was more of an influence than she realized—the little brown pigtails tied under her ears bouncing as she talked. “Theo and Teddy said I couldn’t play golf with them ‘cause Monty said I suck!”

“Tabitha! You know we don’t use language like that!” Evan chided in the age-old lilt of an exhausted parent.

“But they said it first!” the girl insisted, to which the boys shook their heads vehemently.

“Nu-uh!” Teddy and Theo countered. “Monty told us! He doesn’t want Tabby playing with us anymore!”

In response, Evan could only sigh and massage the bridge of his nose.

“Look at him,” Jeremy whispered, leaning into Mike. “One bad PTA meeting away from totally losing it.”

While Gregory was trying to figure out which triplet was who, he was slowly let down from his dad’s hold and relinquished to June. She was short for her age, and like her mother she had unique, smiling Irish-green eyes. After popping the lolli from her mouth, she silently offered it to Gregory without so much as a glance. Gregory looked to her, confused for a moment until June gave him a questioning look. It silently begged to know why he didn't grab the thing from her. When Gregory finally got the memo, he looked to the grape-flavored treat and shrugged.

Now was a time, as good as any, to get over his fear of cooties. He ended up shoving the sugar stick into his cheek and attempted to act cool about it as June leaned in to hug him.

“Sorry I wasn't here Wednesday. Band practice was a freaking nightmare,” she whispered, not wanting her mother to hear her pseudo-cusses. Gregory, still holding nervous energy inside him, spoke with a shrug.

“It's whatever. I wasn't trying to hang out with a whole lot of people anyways,” he remarked nonchalantly, like he knew what she was talking about.

“One of those days?” June questioned rhetorically, not needing a real answer. She was understanding in the way that best friends were, her mental wavelength usually matching.

Though... There was certainly something off about Gregory today. He was more nervous than usual for sure.

Nearby, Evan was desperately trying to convince his kids that Monty did not, in fact, play favorites and would certainly never tell someone they sucked at golf. The triplets weren't having it though, snapping at each other like Chihuahuas until Evan suddenly proclaimed:

“Alright, I think it's time for a little sibling break!” With a strained smile, he grasped Tabby and Theo's hands, walking them over to the other Aftons. “Tabby, sweetheart, you hang with Uncle Mike and Jeremy for a little bit, okay? Theo, you go with Aunt Liz. Teddy—stop climbing the stage!”

Evan had whirled around to see the youngest troublemaker attempting to scale the stage while his back was turned. Grabbing Teddy's hand tight, he narrowed his eyes sternly. “You're staying with me for a bit. Uh—” He glanced at his siblings, realizing he'd yet again signed them up for impromptu babysitting. “—that okay? They just need to be split up for like half an hour, then they'll chill out; sorry...”

“It’s fine, Evan,” Michael chuckled, keeping a tight grip on Tabby's hand as he could already feel her start to pull away. Looking to Gregory and June, he raised a questioning eyebrow. “You guys want to check out another attraction? The bowling alley usually isn't that crowded this time of day.”

He was more than happy to look after part of Evan's brood, but his own son was top priority. Gregory seemed overwhelmed again, so Mike figured a relatively relaxing time at the bowling alley would be a welcome change.

...Plus it'd give Jer a chance to sneak in the back with Gregory and make the famed kitchen-sink-slush for them to enjoy in secret.

Cassidy could be seen smirking at it all. Evan was the one that left her alone with what she would affectionately call 'crotch goblins' when out of earshot from the kids. She did love them—but in the fun loving Aunty way. There was obviously a priority for their fun and safety when she was on babysitting duty, though there was only so much she could take. Seeing how her friend was already at his wits end, she would stick with him. Theodore was being a little instigator today and was working up his siblings.

“Theo—be good for your dad and I'll get you something nice later,” Cassidy remarked, which seemed to grab the laser-guided attention of his siblings. Before they could start, she pointed to each of them with both her hands. “That goes for you guys, too! You will be good and you'll all get surprises. But if one of you acts up—” Cassidy clapped her hands together to provide emphasis. “—nothing!”

Going to Evan, she was recognizing that iconic Afton glare in his eyes. The hard look usually deterred most children from acting up... Unless it was their own flesh and blood. The triplets called their dad's bluff constantly.

“Easy, Evan,” Cassidy warned, touching a light hand to his bicep. “You're getting the scary eyes...”

Overhearing this, Charlie would chuckle lightly in passing. Scary eyes. She hadn't heard that nickname in years. Not since the last big meltdown that William had at Fredbear’s before he moved management... Coming over to her daughter, Charlie saw that June had given up her lollipop to Gregory and made a face.

“Gross guys. Gross,” she remarked, a hint of a smile peeking through the cringe. Like she hadn’t shared food with Michael over their younger years, sometimes to a questionable degree. Jeremy looked between them and laughed raucously.

“It's just germs! No worries.” Jeremy was laid back about it, even if it was just a little gross.

Gregory popped the candy out self-consciously, but managed to answer Michael. “I could go for some bowling.”

To which June replied with a nod as Tabitha joined their flock. Ditty clapped his tiny hands, excited to make more friends on his first day of being powered on.

“That settles it—meet in the Daycare in an hour?” Michael suggested, looking to the group. If the kids still had energy, who better to help burn it off than the Daycare attendant? By the time they returned naptime would be well over, so Sun should be wandering around ready to pull more kids into his fun and games.

“Sounds good.” Evan nodded, his face softening from the “scary eyes” he really couldn't keep up no matter how hard he tried. There was a reason his wife was usually the disciplinarian... he caved far too easily when it came to his kids. “Call me if they're trouble—we'll have to give Aunt Cas a report at the end of the day.”

“I'll be good!” Tabby insisted, her hand shooting up in the air to wave frantically. Whatever the promised surprise might be, she wanted it.

“Me too!” Theo insisted, while Teddy nodded vigorously with a hum of affirmation.

“Let's get a move on, then!” With a gentle tug, Mike urged his niece forward. He held out another hand for Gregory in case he wanted to take it, though his attention was diverted as Tabby suddenly gasped and jerked him slightly in excitement.

“Uncle Jer!” the girl exclaimed, thankfully still walking forward despite her clearly trying to make a break for the blonde. “Guess what?! I beat Theo and Teddy at laser tag yesterday! I was on a different team, so we were hiding but trying to find each other and then Teddy found me and he was like pew pew! But he missed, so it was my turn and...”

Michael couldn't hold in his snort as the kid started to ramble, recounting her story to the group but looking mostly at Jeremy while she spoke. It was easy to tell the favorites, especially when they were young—clearly, out of the Fitz-Aftons the Fitz side was the winner in Tabby's book.

As she rambled, Gregory looked to June who walked in quietly besides her friend. When she caught him glancing over, she would flap her fingers and thumb open and closed while mouthing “Bluh bluh bluh...” Playfully mocking the rambunctious cousin.

Charlie diligently nudged her daughter to tell her to knock it off. The damage already was done, and Gregory had to shove the lollipop back into his mouth to stop himself from laughing. Sometimes, June joked around far too much. Though now that she was a teenager, the boundary pushing was getting worse. She was starting to take on a rebellious streak that reminded Charlie far too much of Michael in his younger years.

“Wow...” Jeremy concluded, looking down with an impressed eyebrow raised high on his forehead. “You must be some kind of sharp-shooting space cadet, Tabby! It's a good thing you're in our group, then! Who knows what danger we'll run into?”

Gregory held in his opinions about the dangers of this place, finding himself scoffing quietly under his breath as they all went merrily along to Bonnie Bowl. Crowds parted for the first portion of their trek. However, the group did not anticipate the highly sought after and prized plushies going on sale in one of the many retail shops on the way. The patrons swelled, standing and crowding the aisle...

Gregory glared at the large crowd, then refused to move his feet. No way was he going over there. Big, lumbering elbows like that were unpredictable. You could get stepped on! Or elbowed.

Or taken right from plain sight.

He remembered that dream; the way it first started with him watching Freddy and the Glamrocks performing. How Vanny, still looking like a helpful security guard at the time, came and tried to lure him away just like she’d done for all the others. How Gregory had run for his fucking life when he’d caught that evil glint in her eye.

As his family walked, sure that he was holding onto someone's hand, Gregory's thoughts were pounded by intrusive flashbacks.

It was in fact Michael Gregory managed to get ahold of, and therefore it was Michael who noticed him stall like a car that'd run out of gas. For a second, they were nearly pulled apart by the crowd and Tabby's insistent tugging right towards the center of the build-up—but then Mike managed to pass her along to Jeremy with an appreciative smile and slip back to Gregory's side. He didn't say anything as he hoisted his son up and made a beeline for the backrooms. Gregory hating crowds was nothing new, and as Jeremy and Michael reasoned earlier that day, surely the Saturday rush would get to him at some point.

And so, without fuss or drawing extra attention, Mike carried Gregory to the safety of the employee-only areas for a little breather. Rubbing soothing circles on Gregory's back as the kid clung to his shoulders, Michael remained quiet until they were in the blessed sanctity of the closest security office.

“Whew!” Mike breathed, locking the door and sitting down heavily in one of the swivel chairs. He allowed Gregory to rest in his lap, spinning in a slow circle with a little grin. Hopefully his son wouldn't pay attention to the obvious concern in his eyes.

“I don't know why we keep trying to come on Saturday,” he mused, stilling the chair only to scoot closer to the computer monitor showing a few nearby security feeds. This office was tiny and had a limited range of cameras—the perfect place to hide without worry of being bothered. “I've gotta either get Sam to stop asking me to help on my days off, or start charging overtime...” He hummed thoughtfully, glancing down at his son. “I'm thinking overtime—more money means more fun stuff we can buy, right?”

Gregory had already been pressed so many times today about whether he felt okay. The last thing Mike wanted to do was prevent him from talking by showing over-concern. His son would open up in his own time, as long as Michael was patient.

Gregory was indeed snatched away, but not by any stranger with ill intentions. Michael charioted him from any perceived danger and took the utility hallway to the nearby security rooms—a place that had always felt safe for Gregory. He relaxed visibly, a long sigh escaping him as he finished the candy in his mouth. The danger wasn't far from his mind on top of everything else, but being here for a clam moment with his father was just fine.

“Sam doesn't pay overtime?” Gregory asked, finding that surprising. Maybe this version of Sam was a little more frugal considering all the family members he was employing. Experience or not, the nepotism was real.

Gregory shook his head; that wasn't really what he wanted to talk about. Instead, in a low voice he murmured: “Dad? I don't think I'm good...”

Still keeping him on his lap, Michael held Gregory out by the shoulders. Now that they were alone and without fear of family barging in with another exciting thing to do, Michael could really look at him. To his relief, his son didn't appear to have any physical injuries. He'd really started to get worried that Gregory bumped his head, but a hand through those shaggy locks didn't reveal any concerning lumps.

His face, though... never before had it been so haunted. The look in his eyes was far beyond Gregory's almost-thirteen years, and—

Those eyes.

Michael thought something was off about them earlier, but he'd chalked it up to a trick of the light. A gentle inspection by turning Gregory's head from side to side proved that this wasn't the case. Somehow, they were a strange, practically glowing silver.

“...Okay.” Michael's tone was calm, despite the screaming in the back of his mind. He'd never seen something like this before. Did Gregory even know? It seemed like he could see perfectly fine, so clearly this wasn't affecting his vision... “Okay. Can you... tell me anything that feels wrong? I need to know as much as I can so I can help you best.”

Gregory was fine with his father's seemingly routine inspection of his face. Though the moment Michael locked eyes in his, he realized what exactly he was trying to deduce.

Were Gregory's eyes always like that? the boy could practically hear him think. It raised alarm bells in his head. If he didn't always look like this, then his dreams may have been more tangible than he previously thought...

“It's my head—my memories...” Gregory tried to explain, blinking away the feeling of harsh scrutinizing. “Dad, my dreams were so bad I can't remember anyone here... It's so scary; I-I remember you, and Charlie and Evan but—wrong. Same with the others!”

Balling his fists in his lap, Gregory used the pressure to keep himself from shouting from the frustration he felt. What horrible thing had he done in a past life for the universe to keep messing up this one?

“I'm so confused... I-I don't know what to do.”

The crease in Michael's brow deepened the more Gregory spoke. He'd had some horrendous nightmares before—ones that woke him up screaming or left him shaking in a near-comatose state until one of his dads rushed in to soothe him. That first year of Gregory's adoption had been rough... but since then he'd been steadily improving. Each day was a little better. To see Gregory fall so far back because of one fucking dream was deeply distressing.

Michael tried his best not to let it show, but he knew he was doing a horrible job of it. If not for that startling thing he'd just discovered, he could chalk this all up to a flashback or emotional regression—something they could deal with in time. It may take another round of intensive therapy, but they'd gotten through it before and they'd get through it again.

And yet, there were those eyes staring back at him, silver and almost pained.

“I... I wish I could give you some answers, Gregory,” Michael admitted. He took a deep breath, trying to center himself. “I wish I could reach into your head and see what you're going through so I can understand. But... all I can say is that this is your life. This is your family just as they've always been, and even if you're a little confused please don't doubt that we all care for you deeply.” He shook his head, huffing in frustration. “I wish I could fix this all with a snap of my fingers, but the best I can offer is to take you home and let you spend the rest of the day in bed if this is too overwhelming.”

He'd certainly be calling the shrink for a second opinion while Gregory was resting, too.

Gregory breathed out through his nose and leaned his head on Michael's shoulder. The only reassurance was that his family would still care about him no matter what which reality was the true one.

“Okay...,” he muttered with some acceptance, knowing there wasn’t much else he could do.

In the end, he would trust Michael. The man was one of the only few people Gregory could truly rely on in the short list of family. And, though he’d never got the pleasure of meeting Jeremy in his dreams, the blonde had swiftly been added to that list.

“...I love you,” He reminded Michael. Wires crossed in his brain, slowly accepting the reality while trying not to think of his fucked-up dreams. This was real; that glitched Pizzaplex wasn’t. “You and Dad. Both of you are really good to me. I appreciate you guys a lot...”

Gregory had no clue if he ever spoke to them so candidly before. He blinked slow, glowing eyes at Michael as he calmed down in his hold.

“We love you, too,” Michael reassured, a smile breaking through as he rubbed a thumb over Gregory's cheek. “So very much.”

Gregory had said things like this before, though they weren't as common nowadays as they used to be. He'd taken time to adjust, of course, but once he realized that Michael and Jeremy did love him unconditionally, Gregory had been eager to return the affection. With the years together came more silent ways to show they cared for each other, so the phrase I love you wasn't uttered as much—especially in recent times as Gregory entered the dreaded preteen years. It was so nice to hear those words again, and Michael could feel a few tears well up in his eyes before he could stop them.

“Ah, shit...,” he murmured, swiping the liquid away with his sleeve. Then he froze with a guilty expression, quickly telling his son: “Uh... don't use bad words, Gregory. And don't tell your dad I said that.”

Gregory's eyebrows silently raised for his hairline at Michael's curse words. Apparently his sailor mouth was a habit he’d never grow out of. As a ghost, Michael didn't exactly encourage this way of speaking, though he never scolded Gregory for any harsh language displayed between them.

Now that his nerves were eased some, Gregory could joke with his dad. Laughing, he attempted to haggle for a deal. “I won't tell Dad you cursed, but I get a freebie later.”  

“Mm... okay, but you can only use the freebie when it's just you and me,” Michael haggled right back. “Don't want Jer lecturing both of us...”

Michael’s phone chimed with a notification that rumbled in his pocket. Jeremy and the crew had landed at Bonnie Bowl and his husband so delicately inquired:

Did you guys split to go take a leak?

Mike snorted at the eloquent text. With a chuckle, he typed a response while saying to Gregory: “Your dad sure has a way with words, kiddo.”

Greg got overwhelmed by the crowd so we hid in a backroom... doing better, but he's overstimulated so gonna take him home soon

He sent the message, then paused when he realized Jeremy was in fact their ride—or at least, the keys to the ride were currently in Jeremy's pocket. Thankfully, Jer had the message open, quickly replying as he laughed to himself at the Bowling alley.

Good luck hot wiring the van boo

Not wanting his tone to sound facetious, he then quickly offered him a better solution to get home.

How about I get our slushies and drive us instead?

Obviously that choice was a decision placed solely on Gregory’s shoulders. All things considered, with Gregory’s inability not to trust anyone so easily until they’d proven their dedication to not attempting to kill or maim him in one way or another, he should naturally fear Jeremy. Yet Gregory found himself unable to be wary of the man. Jeremy was easy-going; a man of naturally calm aspect—and nurturing on top of that. Clearly Michael found something good enough in him to marry the dude, which meant a lot in Gregory’s book.

“Yeah! I mean—” Gregory laughed, almost feeling silly that Mike had to ask such a question. “—he’s my Dad. He’s gotta come back with us…”

He was unwilling to leave Jeremy behind now. His presence was welcome, despite being an unknown variable.

Sounds like a plan, babe; meet u at the car

Michael sent the message while chuckling at Gregory's comment. “That's very true—if we left him here, Pappy would have to drive him back and I still don't like the thought of those two being in an enclosed space together for more than five minutes...”

Locking his phone and slipping it back in his pocket, Michael once against lifted Gregory into a secure carry. “One more trek through the crowds, then its home free.” He walked them to the door, pausing with his hand on the knob to check in once more before they set out—and to offer a warning. “I'm about to hone my years of high school track to get us out of here at the speed of sound... Ready?”

Gregory laughed at this. Opening up really did help; he just needed those words of affirmation to push through the hard feelings. And while he was being hoisted into Michael’s protective grasp yet again, he couldn’t help but think of his dreams.

Maybe in his own brain’s interpretation of Pappy, he’d pictured his grandfather’s and Jeremy’s bickering as something more extreme on William’s end. A murderer and betrayer of their family. That obviously wasn’t the case in real life; this delusion was something carved from nothing more than misguided, deep-rooted anxiety.

…Probably.

“You got this, Dad. I’m just gonna—” Gregory folded his face into Michael’s shoulder. He didn’t care to see the judgmental masses as they ran by, though he was ready now for whatever came their way.

Outside, the afternoon sun was beating down on Jeremy. Cold drinks were safely inside the van with the AC gently blowing over them as he waited for any signs of his family in the crowded car park.

“Aha—target spotted!” Michael announced once they'd entered the harsh glare of daylight and caught Jeremy's blonde hair shining like a beacon. Still keeping up the fast pace, he made it to Jer in a matter of seconds. Mike wouldn't admit he was winded, though it'd been a long time since high school track...

“Hey!” he greeted, pressing a quick kiss to Jeremy's cheek. Gregory had lifted his head to look around by this point, and with a grin Michael lowered him to peer into the car. “Seems like you're getting that slushie after all, huh?”

“Whaaat?” Gregory asked, leaning away from Michael to glance through the tinted windows. Sitting inside the little family van along with two identical slushies was a rainbow concoction: a menagerie or flavors layered but not stirred, meant to be enjoyed by those who favored variety in life. His mouth watered at the sight.

“I couldn’t leave my two favorite guys hanging!” Jeremy laughed. Unlocking the van and sliding open the door for Gregory, he lifted their son from Michael’s arms to aid his winded husband. “I’m making grilled cheese when we get home.”

He figured the kid would be pretty hungry by the time they got back as well. He was happy to see his son’s face light up with the simple phrase; Gregory did look like he was feeling better! But it was still evident to Jeremy that the boy must’ve been crying, judging by the strange glossiness to his eyes…

Apparently, Gregory just wasn’t ready for Saturday’s at Freddy’s yet.  

The drive was spent mostly in silence, save for the sound of slushies sucked through straws with reckless abandon. When they finally parked at the house, Michael was quick to let Gregory out and usher him inside, noting the boy definitely seemed better with the drink in hand.

“Greg, you wanna hang out in your room for a little bit while we get sandwiches ready?” he suggested with a knowing look in his eye. Perhaps going through some of his old things would jog the kid's memory...

Too bad Gregory tried that before with minimal success, though Michael didn't know this. Really, Mike wanted a second alone with Jeremy so he could fill him in on the situation. He was glad Gregory trusted him so much, but this was a lot to deal with on his own... and since their son expressed his trust of Jeremy Michael felt it alright to give him at least an overview on what was happening.

That's right, Gregory still needed to go through all those notepads and papers he found... He hadn't even touched the locked journal under his bed yet. It would give him a chance to reacquaint himself with the world around him. Whatever dissociative spell came over him might be lodged loose with some help from his own personal thoughts and feelings.

“Yeah, I need to chill for a second. Thanks for the slushie, Dad!” he told his caretakers. The drink was halfway full, he'd have to hurry and drink the rest before it became a muddy brown color from the melting flavors.

Gregory was mindful of no running in the house rule, though the sugar certainly helped his mood and begged for him to move his legs. Before he could fully walk away, Jeremy grasped him around the back of his shoulders and hugged him tightly. Much to his pleasant surprise, Gregory didn’t fight his embrace.

“Go unwind; love you, kid.” Grinning, he planted a kiss to the very top of Gregory's skull. He probably flustered the poor teen, as Gregory laughed at this and tugged away. After Gregory meandered upstairs with Jeremy watching as if to make sure he got to his room safely, Jeremy planted his hands on his hips.

“We really need to pick that kid up some eye drops. His allergies must be going crazy today...” Jeremy sighed sympathetically as he made his way for the kitchen to start on dinner. More likely, Gregory’s eyes might be dry from sobbing all day. He remembered being sad at his age—always getting choked up for one reason or another.

Michael was watching the stairs too, though his gaze shifted to Jeremy as he spoke. God, he hated to worry him... But he had to clue him in that this was something much more serious than they'd anticipated.

“Jer—” Michael caught Jeremy's hand as he reached the counter, speaking in hushed tones in case Gregory wandered out of his room. “—I don't want to freak you out, but... I think we might need to call Gregory's therapist again for an emergency appointment.”

He could see Jeremy gearing up to speak, that tell-tale widening of his eyes at the notion of something amiss with his son. Michael pressed on, lacing their fingers together as he did his best to explain.

“I... honestly have no idea what's going on, because Gregory doesn't either. But when we were in the security office, he—” Michael faltered, running a worried hand through his hair. “—he said he didn't... remember any of us. I mean, not like we are now. That nightmare he had was apparently so real it made him think we're the dream. Also, his eyes—”

He winced, looking to the floor and finally showing the emotion he'd been trying to hide from Gregory all day: fear for his son's well-being.

“I don't know how to help him, Jer...”

With Jeremy’s attention captured, Michael’s husband leaned against the counter to listen to him with an increasingly broad worry line that formed in his forehead. It made Jeremy wonder how the hell he didn’t notice anything before—and now that Mike mentioned Gregory’s eyes, he felt so dumb for not doing anything the moment he saw there was something different.

Jeremy dragged his palm up and down his face to try and ground himself. Though when he opened his eyes, the distress on Michael’s face made him flock to his husband and hold their hands together, unsure how much it would help.

“Do we need to take Gregory to the hospital?” Jeremy finally asked. This was going to be a hard decision, something that might cause Gregory a ton of undue stress should he be perfectly fine.

But the near-complete intrapersonal memory loss was insane to Jeremy. How could such a thing happen just because of a dream? His boy didn’t remember any of the fun things they used to do together… No wonder Gregory had been looking at him like he had four damn heads!

“I think with his eyes and the memory loss, this might go beyond the therapist—he might need medical attention,” Jeremy said very quietly. The last thing he wanted was for Gregory to overhear his fathers talking about what might be wrong with him.

“I don’t… know,” Michael admitted softly. He knew how insane that sounded—with everything going on, they should take Gregory to be checked out immediately. And yet…

“Something’s telling me not to.” A harsh, confused frown twisted Michael’s face as he rubbed his thumbs over the backs of Jeremy’s hands. “It sounds crazy, I know—I’m usually the worrywart who’d be the first in the car. But…” He shook his head, then cast a glance in the direction of Gregory’s room. “I think we should give him until tomorrow—see if he snaps out of it. I’d hate to stress him out more with hospitals.”

That was another thing Mike and Gregory shared: a strong dislike of hospitals. Michael didn’t know where his aversion came from, but for whatever reason the sterile air always unnerved him. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t take his son in his time of need, of course—but like Jeremy, he didn’t want to put Gregory under undue strain.

“He doesn’t seem to have any vision problems; maybe we can wait until morning and see how he feels,” Michael suggested. “He was getting a lot better until the crowds kicked up, and you already saw him acting more like himself in the car. I don’t want to take him to the hospital and, I don’t know… have him regress more. What do you think?”

Jeremy was soothed by this admission. Thank god this wasn't something that might require an emergency visit to the ER or therapist whenever possible. Jeremy nodded along with what Mike was saying, as he raised good points.

“I'll call Doctor Freeman, get an appointment scheduled, and we'll go from there,” Jeremy said with certainty and calm. “Do you wanna get dinner started? This might take a second.”

Jeremy slowly let go of Michael's hands—even though his own were fumbling with shaking nervousness as he grasped for his phone. This was nerve-wracking. How does something like this have to affect their son?

The kid never did anything wrong in his life; nothing on purpose, anyway. Gregory was one of the coolest kids he knew—and he wasn't just saying this because he was his kid. Jeremy just didn't understand why life had to be so cruel sometimes. Gregory was probably freaked out all day and unable to communicate this.

Scrolling through his contacts, Jeremy found the therapist’s number and began to dial it. He held the receptor to his ear and listened to the dial tone while nervously rapping his fingers on the smooth counter top.

Grilled cheese. Michael could handle grilled cheese.

“Sure thing,” he said, managing a tiny, shaky smile. Before Jeremy pulled away fully he was able to snag a quick, appreciative kiss on the cheek. “Thanks. I’m sure he’s going to be fine.”

Michael’s tone betrayed his lack of confidence. It was useless to dwell on the situation though; they’d check in at dinner and see how Gregory was feeling. Hopefully his memory will already improve and set a pattern for his recovery. With that worried crease seemingly etched into his brow now, Michael got to work making the sandwiches.

That kiss made Jeremy stay in the room. Something about it had given Jer the feeling that his husband couldn't be alone with his thoughts on the situation right then. On instinct, Jeremy's hand came up to tenderly caress Michael's cheek.

“Of course he'll be fine. This will all blow over soon enough,” he managed to say before he heard the receptionist pick up with her usual greeting. Gently pulling back, Jeremy would answer her. “Yeah this is Mr. Fitz-Afton, and I'm calling to schedule an emergency appointment for my son, Gregory.”

After another firm squeeze around the waist, Michael was released to compete his grilled cheese preparations. A few minutes later the first sandwich was ready, and with a reassuring smile directed to Jeremy, Michael plated it and climbed the stairs to Gregory’s room.

“Greg?” he called, knocking on the closed door. “How are you doing, kiddo? I’ve got food for you!”  

Chapter Text

Upstairs, Gregory was having a hard time coming to terms with some things.

In the journal kept beneath his bed, something he’d apparently started when he was 8, now going on 13, was a record of his days both good and bad. Gregory was seeing a therapist for his anxiety issues, but nothing ever mentioned the delusions he was having. In fact, as the pages went on, bad days were outnumbered by the good. He’d been here for years—taken from the foster system around 7 years of age, but knowing he was going to be adopted since 6. Some things just made sense, but there was a severe lacking mention of ghosts and virtual serial killers…

When the knocked came to his door, Gregory quickly shut the thick, ink-stained book and looked to Ditty, who scuttled around his desk and inquisitively picked things up to move them about.

“I gotta eat dinner, can you find more stuff while I’m gone?” he asked, unsure if the little guy was even listening before receiving the world’s smallest thumbs up from his new robot companion. “Yeah anything with my name on it—drawings, journals, whatever…”

He’d have to read these more intently later to jog his memory. Going to the door, Gregory turned the knob and threw it open. He was getting pretty peckish at this point. worrying does a number on one’s stomach.

“Doing alright—” he finally answered. “—just going through my journals.”

“Oh, great idea!” Michael praised, his smile more genuine now. “That’s always a good way to jog your memory.” He gestured for Gregory to take the lead towards the stairs. “I made dinner—sorry it’s not going to be as good as when Dad cooks, but I promise it’s edible.”

He chuckled at the self-depreciation, hoping Gregory would get a kick out of the joke, too. The kid looked a bit better than before—not nearly as outwardly stressed. Maybe he was already improving?

Michael could hope.

Following Gregory back down, they found Jeremy had set the table again and was waiting in his chair ready to dole out the sandwiches.

“The guest of honor has arrived!” Michael announced, smirking as he pulled out Gregory’s chair with a little bow. “Your seat, monsieur.”

The double-accent sounded ridiculous, which was exactly Michael’s intent. Anything to make Gregory remember how wonderfully fun this version of his family was.

And it worked; the kid was all smiles now. He just had to pretend like this morning didn’t nearly shock the life out of him. Now it was like a game, one where he had to piece together his life to this point. There was no danger here, Gregory reminded himself. Since being adopted, nothing bad had really even happened to him. Scooting in towards the table, Gregory plopped down into the seat that Michael pulled out for him.

“Oui, oui thank you monsieur.” Gregory played along, making Jeremy laugh as he tossed a few napkins towards his son.

Jeremy placed his plate down, carrying on the joke. “Your sandwich le fromage, monsieur! It’s tres manifique.”

Despite Michael’s normally burned cooking, the sandwiches didn’t look half bad in Jeremy’s opinion—though he’d rather jump off a bridge than refuse to eat his darling husband’s food because of some char. Gregory would giggle at this, watching as Jeremy pulled Michael’s seat out for him.

“Sorry that we had to leave the Pizzaplex early, guys. My nightmare was like… really intense and was inside the mall,” he half-explained.  

“No need to apologize,” Michael replied as he took his seat. “We all get a little overwhelmed sometimes. Plus, that place is always insane on Saturdays...” He shared a look with Jeremy, letting Gregory eat a few bites of sandwich before speaking again.

“Hey, Greg—” Michael gave him a smile more curious than anything, though his eyes held deep-seated empathy. “—it’s totally okay if you don’t want to talk about it right now—the last thing we want to do is stress you out more—but… we’re here if you want to share any of your dreams. No matter how bad they are, we’ll listen.”

Gregory’s smile looked strained, though he figured by this point, if none of it was real… It couldn’t hurt to tell them.

“I… had a dream I was kind of like—living at the Pizzaplex? And then things went crazy! So much happened—Charlie was in the Puppet! Like, her ghost. Yours was in Freddy’s,” Gregory began to ramble. He set down his sandwich, choosing to look at the grilled cheese rather than his dads. It helped him get his thoughts in order.

“Pappy was Bonnie. Like—his mind was stuck inside Bonnie. Not quite a ghost, but not… Man, I don’t even know what he really was. But he was using dead kids to try and bring himself back to life? Apparently he’d been doing it for years. Then he injected me with this fizzy purple stuff—it’s supposed to make you immortal or something. He thought I was Evan. Oh—Liz and Evan were dead, and he was trying to bring them back, too. Then we trapped Pappy inside a video game and I smashed it with a hammer…”

Wow, Jeremy thought. Vivid AND concerning. He realized when Gregory picked his dinner up against to take more bites that he was done with the short retelling of his dreams.

“That’s… intense, little man. I’m sorry,” was all he could say, before his brow furrowed in thought. “Wait… Puppet? Like The Puppet? From the original diner way back when?”

Had Gregory ever even seen the Marionette? That old thing had been retired to Charlie and John’s house years ago, a powered down and prized toy that June inherited but rarely played with. When Gregory gave Jeremy a confused nod, his father sat back in his seat to fold his hands together in thought. He silently looked to Michael, wondering if he ever told their kid about the old, out of date security bot.  

By this point Mike was leaning forward, hand covering his mouth where it rested on his palm. This dream was far more disturbing than he’d thought it’d be…

To think everyone was dead? And possessing animatronics, to boot? Plus William was apparently a murderer—

“How did you… did Charlie tell you about that?” Michael questioned, a hint of disbelief in his tone, eyes widening at the mention of Puppet. Surely within their whole extended family someone must’ve shown off the run-down bot… but it hadn’t been Michael. He blinked, sitting up and shaking his head.

“Er—you probably don’t remember, sorry. It’s just… I don’t remember ever showing you Puppet.” He gave a nervous laugh, sharing another side-eyed glance with Jeremy. “We thought it might freak you out too much. A lot of kids thought it was unnerving, so…” He gave a weak shrug.

What the hell was going on?

“A-Anyway—” Michael’s lips curved into a light smile. “—I was stuck in Freddy? Hmm… I guess there’s worse robots to be with. I hope we were all nice, at least…?” The faint smile slipped back into a grimace. “Besides Pappy, I suppose…”

“Of course you were nice; you and Charlie protected me! But, Henry—” Gregory placed the last two bites of crust down on the plate to explain. “—he made you guys robots that looked exactly like people! He called them androids. Because… Charlie died on her sixteenth birthday. He made some for her, and then when you died, Mike—er, Dad, he made one for you. Lizzie and Evan have them, too. Charlie helped you guys attach your souls to them; apparently she’s the only one who could move them around. Cas was dead, too…”

Gregory took a break, chewing and swallowing another bite of food.

“…Puppet loved Charlie a lot. She gave really good hugs,” he remembered, missing Mari now; this little girl he made up in her mind that was so excited to talk and tell you about her day… “I don’t know… Maybe June told me about her.” He wasn’t sure how hard he wanted to think about it. Gregory let his crust drop again to his plate as he thought about his apparent grandfather, trying to downplay how his mind painted him. “William wasn’t trying to hurt me—not really. He just wanted me to be alive. I mean, he wanted Evan, but he got really confused. He didn’t care who got hurt to make himself alive either… I mean, he obviously wouldn’t ever do that here.”

“No, of course not—he loves you and wouldn’t hurt anyone like that,” Jeremy reinforced. He didn’t look tense, but he grasped Michael’s hand beneath the table for support. Running his free hand through wavy blonde hair, Jeremy let out a small laugh. “What was I doing? I hope I wasn’t being a jerk to you.”

Gregory’s eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head. “No… Uh… You weren’t there. Mi—er, Dad didn't mention you either.”

Well… That was better than actively trying to hurt the kid, Jeremy supposed. Still he couldn't help but purse his lips in thought as to why he was just never even mentioned. Nothing at all to indicate he was a part of Gregory’s life?

“Weird…,” Jeremy murmured, lost in thought.

“God… I’m so sorry, Gregory,” Michael murmured, so quiet it was as though he was talking to himself. He returned the hand squeeze under the table, for some reason getting that pit-of-the-stomach feeling that all this was somehow his fault…

But that was just his mind overreacting. No one was responsible for Gregory’s horrible dreams—not even the boy himself.

“Maybe you’ve just been overstimulated lately,” he tried to reason. Applying logic to an illogical situation—it was all he could do until he had a medical opinion tomorrow. “I mean, we’ve been visiting the Pizzaplex a lot… I know it’s fun, but there’s so much stuff going on there. We might wanna cut back a little.”

“Yeah... Yeah that's probably it.” Jeremy agreed for now. Running his thumb along the outside of Michael's hand, he told Gregory: “I scheduled an appointment with Dr. Freeman just in case. Maybe she can help us figure out where to go from there. Until then—” Jeremy cleared his throat before stacking their plates on the table. “—how do you feel about some ice cream?”

Gregory's smile turned up again, now looking back to Jeremy with glee. “I feel pretty strongly about ice cream."

With a more relaxed posture, Jeremy took the plates and lifted Michael's hand to his mouth, placing two kisses on his knuckles. “Ice cream, hon?”

He didn't want to seem like he was ignoring or trying to bury the issues. But there was no sense dwelling on imagined, horrific scenarios if they made Gregory feel bad.

“Sounds great,” Michael readily agreed, eyes crinkling at the sweet gesture. There really wasn’t much use in focusing on something they couldn’t do anything about right now. Sitting back in his chair, Michael set his hands in his lap and tried to relax. Sweet confections always improved any situation, no matter how dire it might seem.

“Let’s see, I think we’ve got… chocolate, right?” Michael asked, tracking Jeremy as he put the plates in the sink and went to the freezer. “I can’t remember what else… cookie dough, maybe?”

"Which one—"

“Chocolate!” Gregory shouted answering Jeremy's question before he could even ask it. Then, Gregory corrected himself. “Wait! Chocolate and cookie dough?”

The smile on Jeremy's face brightened with a laugh. “Sure, kid; Mike?”

“I’ll have what he’s having,” Michael confirmed, jerking his thumb towards Gregory with a grin.

While Gregory stretched his legs, Michael idly watched Jeremy get the ice cream ready. His eyes were on his husband, but his mind wandered to possessed animatronics and purple liquid that made one immortal. Two questions kept popping up in his mind:

How did Gregory know about the Puppet? And why were his eyes now shining silver?

Luckily, before he could get too lost in his thoughts three hearty bowls of ice cream were set on the table. All were piled high with whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles. Michael raised his brows at this.

“I didn’t even know we had sprinkles. Did you check the date on them, Jer?” His head tilted in consideration. “Wait… can sprinkles even go bad?”

The question of Gregory’s physical appearance scratched at Jeremy’s mind as well. Somehow, Gregory’s eyes reminded Jer of those old pictures of shell-shocked war veterans. He'd seen the before and after photos of a doe-eyed private that came back from battle with a wide and hollow stare. Gregory’s didn’t meet the same intensity as that, but their paleness was comparable.

A couple of scoops later, and he could pretend to forget about it for now. Michael raised an excellent question about the sprinkles, making Jeremy scratch at the short stubble on his chin.

“Sprinkles are only made of good stuff—they can’t go bad,” he fibbed, inching back towards the kitchen. Gregory raised his spoon impatiently for his mouth, only hesitating when Jeremy called: “But wait just a sec in case I’m wrong!”

There was a short beat. Then his relieved voice finally answered: “They’re good! Enjoy, guys!”

Gregory smiled towards the kitchen spouting a quick, “Thanks!” before stuffing his cheek full of the cold treat. When Gregory glanced up to Michael, they locked gazes. It was clear his Dad was staring at him. The question was exactly what he was looking at—though Gregory had his suspicions.  

Blinking to break the connection, Gregory swallowed a spoonful of ice cream and tilted his head. “…What’s wrong?”

“Nothing; sorry,” Michael responded, quickly dropping his gaze to the steadily-melting bowl of ice cream.

He took a slow, thoughtful bite, wondering if he should even bother to ask. It seemed like every time they had a semblance of peace a new concern popped up in his mind. Had he always been such a worrywart? Deep down perhaps, especially as he got older… but Michael couldn’t ever remember being this much on edge.

“…Actually, I do have another question for you, Greg,” he said after a moment of silence save for the clinking of spoons against bowls. He was watching his son again, looking for any signs of physical discomfort. “You’re not having any, um… vision problems, are you? You seem alright, I just have to ask because—well.”

With a vague gesture of his spoon, Michael indicated the boy’s startling eyes. Surely he’d caught sight of them in the mirror today… and if not, Mike would feel really bad for pointing them out and adding yet another worry to Gregory’s list. 

He knew it was coming; it was only a matter of time before one of them mentioned it. The thought crossed his mind that Gregory, along with these false memories, looked different when he woke up this morning. It was starting to make him feel as if he was still missing the bigger picture. Gregory played with the lumps of cookie dough, mashing them further into heaps of ice cream before answering.

“I can see great,” he replied with a shrug. Not a lie by any means; he could see better than ever. But he knew that wasn’t what Mike was getting at. However, if there was one thing Gregory got very good at over the course of his dream life (so he thought, at least), it was fibbing. “Why?”

Jeremy bit the inside of his lip, unsure how he would breach this topic. To him, they almost looked like cataracts if he squinted. Tinted mirrors with no reflection, swallowing all the light instead of projecting it back—save for a strange, subtle glow from within. 

“Your eyes look a little different than they normally do, that’s all.” The way he mentioned it didn’t make Gregory feel odd about the way they looked, putting him at ease. Their son didn’t want to think about why he looked the way he did and just shrugged.

“Maybe it's just the light?” Gregory remarked, experimentally batting his eyes—feeling out whether they still worked properly with the added workload.  

“Yeah… I'm sure that's it. Ignore me, kiddo—I’m just turning into a worrywart like Uncle Evan. How’s your ice cream?” Michael flashed him a grin. With this and the slushie, Greg was going to be wired… and then crash equally as hard. 

“Famtabstic—” Gregory praised with a mouthful. His tongue darted out to capture a sprinkle from his lip, feeling a little bad for not opening up about what happened in his dream sooner. So he would deflect this with a valid question of his own. Swallowing what was in his mouth, Gregory looked to his Dads and asked: “I have a question, though…”

Jeremy had already made a good dent in his bowl, but saved time to ask his son: “Hm? What’s up?”

Wiping away sticky sugar from the corner of his mouth, Gregory raised a brow. “Why is this cookie dough alright to eat, but regular cookie dough isn’t?”

Jeremy opened his mouth to answer, floundering when nothing actually came to mind. He was going to have to Google this later, but he postulated regardless, turning a suspicious eye to the sugary mounds in his dish. “Maybe it’s counterfeit cookie dough.” 

“Oh my god—don’t make it sound like we’re buying black market ice cream!” Michael exclaimed with a laugh, nudging Jeremy’s leg under the table. “It’s safe because the flour and eggs in the dough have been treated to get rid of bacteria and stuff that makes us sick; the homemade kind isn’t put through that process.”

As Michael lifted the final, oversized bite of chocolate sweet to his mouth, he could feel his family’s eyes on him. With the spoon hanging in the air, he lifted an eyebrow. “What? I was raised in a pizzeria chain whose specialty dessert was ice cream. I know waaaay more details about that stuff than I ever wanted to.”

With a shrug, he set the final bite in his mouth and let his spoon clatter onto his plate with a satisfied hum.

Jeremy should’ve expected Michael to know something like that. Both he and Gregory frequently learned a lot of random, usually pizza-related facts from him.

“I wish I knew that! Here I am, thinking we got fake cookie dough,” Jeremy chuckled, locking his ankle around Michael’s. “A lot smarter than my answer anyway…”

"Nah, they pour bleach on them instead,” Gregory said after inhaling his final bite, happy to spew obvious misinformation.

“No! What? They can’t do that. That should be illegal!” Jer snorted, unable to keep a straight face as Gregory nodded his head in the affirmative.

“Nope. It’s all bleach!” Feeling like he was in a much better mood, Gregory decided to take the bowls and spoons from Jeremy’s grasp, much to the man's surprise. “It’s cool;, I’ll go rinse them out.”

“Aww—thank you, sweetheart.” Jeremy was pleasantly touched by the gesture. As Gregory passed the threshold of the kitchen, Jer leaned his head against Michael’s shoulder and contentedly closing his eyes. “What a cool kid, right?” 

“The absolute coolest,” Michael confirmed. “I think that really cheered him up. He’s already acting more like himself. Could just be the sugar high, but hey—if that’s what it takes, I’ll add ice cream to his daily routine in a heartbeat.”

Jeremy laughed quietly at this. If that was the case, it might do Gregory some good if they got him a gym membership for Mazercise. Gregory was at that age where he was going to eat his weight in junk food; lord knows Jeremy and Mike were the same way. 

“Did you say daily ice cream?” Gregory caught, peeking around the corner with a sly smirk. 

“Ice cream maybe daily. Maybe…” Jeremy sat up now, leaning over to gently pinch Gregory’s cheek, then decided to mess with his hair when the kid playfully batted at his teasing hand.  

Michael chuckled at the display, tagging in for Jeremy to continue mussing up Gregory’s hair when the other was successfully fought off. The boy was soon released from his fathers’ attack, trying his best to resituate his locks as Michael grinned at him.

“Well, now that we’re all energized and sugar-ified… what do you want to do, Gregory?” he asked, standing up and stretching his arms high to the sky. “Watch some TV, play some video games, go outside for some fresh air… the possibilities are endless.”

There was that normal cheerful demeanor finally breaking through again. The more Gregory felt like himself, the more Michael did, too.

On the defensive, Gregory had lightly swatted the hands away from his hair—no wonder his once poofy mane was flat, with everyone always messing with it. It was a losing battle, as Gregory did find having his hair being played with soothing. He had his family to thank for that discovery.

While he did have all the video games he could possibly play judging by the entertainment cabinet, clear glass stocked to the brim with cartridges, discs, and cases, he had something else in mind. Fresh air would do him good; being all cooped up might be one of the things hurting him rather than helping. Gregory felt like he'd been in hiding for two weeks because of his nightmare. He missed the sunlight...

“Can we go hang outside? It's such a nice day out,” he remarked. It might be a little hot, but it beat the slowly developing hermit qualities he'd notice growing in his mind.

“Outside it is, then!” Jeremy would agree. He loved the outdoors; one of these days he was going to take them all camping again. “What are we going to do when we get there?”

“Uh...” Gregory drew a blank. What do people do together outside?

Then, he thought on it. If they went back to the little make shift ball-pit, was there a chance of jogging his memory?

“We could play in the ball pit!” Gregory suggested.

“Oh yeah!” Michael mused, now leading the way to the back door. He’d almost forgotten about that thing. “Good idea—we spent all that time getting it set up, might as well get some use out of it!”

It’d be therapeutic for all of them, he thought—childish fun without worrying about beating high scores or completing missions. Just a kid and his dads swimming in a plastic pool and having the time of their lives spending time together as a family.

Soon enough Michael was throwing open the back door, releasing his family into the warm afternoon sunlight that lit up the rainbow plastic in a beacon of fun. Gregory ran to the edge of the porch, looking into the wide pit. It was a fun idea; probably less expensive to maintain than a pool, though Gregory didn't think that was why they did it. He probably wanted the convenience of a ball pit without having to go all the way to the Daycare.

It was then that he was picked up, Jeremy having snuck up behind to toss him gently in the pool. Gregory let out a yelp of surprise at this, and as he made his short flight through the air he waited for memories to come to him...

Touchdown! A small splash of plastic orbs rained back over in his parents’ direction. The above ground inflatable pool wobbled with the motions and Gregory moved to “swim” towards the edge.

In a sudden movement, Jeremy whipped around and hugged Michael. It seemed out of nowhere. When Michael finally hugged him back, Jeremy tightened his grip and used his weight to pull them both down together, all in one singular, unspoken motion of betrayal. The sight had Gregory covering his mouth, laughter rolling out of him now.

The memories might not come so easy, Gregory thought. This could take a lot longer than he previously expected. New ones didn't hurt though...

“Unbelievable!” Michael cried as he popped above the surface. “I trusted you, Jeremy Fitzgerald! Don’t run away from me—”

As Jeremy desperately tried to escape his husband’s wrath, Michael picked up a bright red ball and threw it with perfect accuracy. It bounced harmlessly off Jeremy’s back right between the shoulder blades, but the blonde made a show of going down like it’d completely taken him out. Michael laughed at his triumph, then suddenly whirled around and scooped another ball into his hand. With a wicked grin, he tossed it in the air and caught it while eying his son.

“Don’t think you’re getting away, either!” Michael proclaimed, tossing the ball towards Gregory. And with that, the game was on.

They had fallen in with a might splash, only for Jeremy to scramble away at the last second. He fell with a dramatic yell when the plastic ball collided with his spine, face first into the pit once more. He was simply too slow to flee from Michael's wrath. Gregory shrieked, attempting to dunk under the pit, but unfortunately being clocked in the side of the head with the lightweight sphere.

These transgressions wouldn’t stand. And so the family had an all-out war, throwing balls and wrestling in the backyard.

It was what life could be. To some, what it should be…

Chapter Text

Gregory was tuckered out by the time they all found the sun hanging low in the sky. Jeremy ushered them inside, getting their son a glass of water to wind down with. It was nearly time for bed, but Jeremy was never good at enforcing bedtime rules—as long as Gregory got around 8 hours of sleep during the summer, he’d feel like it was mission accomplished.

While Gregory brushed his teeth, Jeremy stood behind him and started to gently comb out matted knots he found in his son’s hair.

“You put so much hair spray in here, dude. You’re showering tomorrow,” he chided quietly, letting go only for Gregory to spit out his toothpaste.

“Okaaaay,” the boy replied dramatically. Really, he had no problem with that. The commands came from a place of care, and not from the thrill of power. It was hard to call Jeremy “authority” when he acted more like a friend.

Michael was certainly more of the “disciplinarian,” though that term could only be used loosely. While he preferred Gregory stick to a schedule, he also didn’t mind when things got off-kilter so long as his son was safe and happy. This was one such occasion where he wouldn’t bat an eye if Gregory stayed up a bit later than usual due to extenuating circumstances.

“Hey!” Michael popped his around the bathroom doorframe with a grin. “How’s it going? I heard talk about too much hairspray?”

He slipped in the room, taking Jeremy’s place in running his hands through Gregory’s hair. Michael grimaced, immediately snagging his finger and setting to work gently untangling it with a little chuckle. “Geez, Greg… did you take a bath in the stuff? Hold tight, let me just get this big tangle out and you’ll be free for tonight.”

“Hm, I wonder where he learned to do his hair like this,” Jeremy murmured, voice dripping in well-meaning sarcasm as he reached up and touched Michael’s own softly curled locks.

He remembered when they first moved in together. How Michael had to be the first one in the bathroom, and the coughing fit that ensued as Jeremy navigated the thick cloud of hairspray mist still lingering in the air after him. Jeremy ran his hands through Michael’s hair once, almost able to feel how crunchy it used to be as he laughed to himself at the memory.

“The hairspray made everything so sticky,” Gregory laughed, only grimacing once when he felt a slight tug on his scalp.

“Sometimes beauty is pain,” Michael responded with a teasing smile. Once the knot was thoroughly brushed out, he patted the top of Gregory’s head and stepped back. “All done! Are your teeth brushed? Yup—okay, to bed we go.”

On normal nights, Gregory would be allowed to walk on his own two feet. Tonight was anything but normal, however… and so just as his son entered the hallway Michael snagged him by the waist and flipped him head over heels until he was settled piggyback style on Michael’s back. 

With that he took off to jog a few circuits around the house with Gregory laughing behind him. It was something they’d do when Greg was much younger—a good way to simultaneously bond and get out some excess energy before bedtime. Michael hoped the subsequent crash after the adrenaline rush would put the kid right to sleep without worrying about another horrible, too-real dream.

All Jeremy could think of was of how good they were all going to sleep tonight. Jeremy had gone about chasing them around with Gregory holding onto Mike; the carefree nature of it was unfamiliar to Gregory, but welcome nonetheless. He remembered that Michael liked to run, having mentioned his high school track career; it showed as Jeremy tried to keep up as they darted around corners and down the halls.

After their short-lived race, Jeremy snatched Gregory from the back of his father. Stealing a kiss to his laughing son’s cheek, he then tossed him up. There was a shriek at the unexpected throw, but thankfully the soft mattress of Gregory’s fancy loft bed caught him expertly. Resting his chin at the frame height, Jeremy watched in amusement as Greg dramatically rolled up in his blankets.

“Ugh—how could you throw your only son?” he lamented. 

“Oh, shush. You had it coming when you kept ganging up on me in the pit!” Jeremy countered playfully, poking him in the side as Gregory scrunched at the touch.

“Excuse me, I think you guys ganged up on me,” Michael remarked, resting his chin right next to Jeremy’s and jabbing Jer with his elbow. He reached forward whip-snap quick and gave Gregory a playful shove that rolled him up even more like a burrito, prompting another round of giggles from all of them.

As the laughter softened, so did Michael’s expression. He ran a hand through Gregory’s hair, which was still sticking up every which way but was noticeably less tangled already.

“Gregory—” Mike’s tone was as calm as his gaze, wanting to reassure his son in as many ways as possible before he slept that things were going to be alright. “—I know you’re probably waaaay too old for this, but just so you know the offer’s always open to crawl into bed with us if you ever want to.”

The offer was definitely something to think over, especially if he woke up during the night. Gregory managed to wiggle onto his side, currently swaddled as he watched his parents through a tiny fabric window.

“I might. If I have another nightmare, for sure,” he said with a nod, looking more like a wiggle.

“It’ll be like when you were little—” Jeremy reminisced, his head propped up under one of his forearms. “—you always ended up getting all turned around. We’d wake up with you using us like pillows, or kicking Dad’s head.”

Such a thought made Gregory smile at the silliness. Though it was unlikely that he’d do such a thing, being old enough not to get lost in the blankets. Gregory felt his heart hurt with the fact he couldn’t remember any of it all; he wished he knew Jeremy the way he should know him. Blinking away a fogginess growing in his eyes, both from exhaustion and tears, he agreed. “I know… I love you guys.”

“We love you, too,” Michael replied, standing on tiptoes and leaning over the side of the bed to press a kiss to the exposed sliver of Gregory’s forehead. “So, so much. Now try to get some sleep; anything you need, don’t hesitate to wake us up."

He gave Gregory’s side one final, reassuring squeeze before pushing away from the bed. Slipping his hand into Jeremy’s, Michael walked to the door. Pausing just before they crossed the threshold, he glanced over his shoulder to meet Gregory’s dull, silver gaze one last time. “Goodnight, kiddo; we’ll see you in the morning.”

“Get some rest. Tomorrow I’ll make a big breakfast,” Jeremy said, then reached over and dimmed the bedroom lights, the slider switch still left a centimeter before it touched the bottom to provide their son a little illumination. 

With that, Jeremy would gently shut the door. Lacing his fingers in between Mike’s, he raised his husband’s hand to kiss it. “See? I told you everything would turn out fine.”

Even if they weren’t out of the woods yet, Jeremy felt it was safe to say their boy would be okay in time.

***

For a few blissful hours, all was well in the Fitz-Afton family. The house was quiet and peaceful, and without an impending sense of danger all three boys managed to fall asleep soon after their heads hit the pillows.

…Of course, “peace” for Gregory was nothing more than a pipe dream at this time in his life.

The only clue to his arrival was the muffled thunk! as his sneakers met the retro-carpeted floor. With all the "jumping" he’d done, he perfected the landing and knew just the right way to minimize the jarring impact of solid ground to the rest of his body. Standing up with a big stretch, the boy glanced towards the digital clock on the desk.

2:22 am.

“Damn it—still off by a few minutes,” he mumbled, pushing shaggy-brown bangs out of his eyes as he fumbled with the novelty Fazwatch on his wrist. He couldn’t be more than 18, 19 at the most, and though his face had started to resemble that of his Uncle Evan to a frightening degree, it was still unmistakably his. Focused on the device on his wrist, he barely registered when the kid on the bed began to stir.

They were right; maybe Gregory couldn’t sleep through the night. He woke up facing the colorful wallpaper in his room, blinking a few times and experimentally wiggling his limbs from the swaddle that Mike and Jeremy placed him in. When he heard the unique sounds of Ditty playing a frenzied tone, Gregory sat straight up and swung his legs over the side of his loft bed—

—and he gasped, the very soul leaving him. He didn’t expect to see someone unfamiliar in his room at such an hour. With Ditty now scurrying about on the floor and stirring up all sort of ruckus, Gregory knew then that his faithful robot companion was trying to alert him to the intruder.

“Holy fuck—” Gregory squawked, throwing the blanket around himself instinctively. “—who the fuck are you?!”

“Ditty, chill!” the older boy exclaimed, not seeming shocked at all to see the tiny animatronic scuttling about at his feet. “Do you wanna wake Dads up?! Stop!”

The tiny robot froze at the familiar voice. It was programmed to recognize and respond to Gregory specifically, and though this kid was older he checked all the right boxes to match his owner…

“Thank you!” The boy’s tone was relieved as he scooped Ditty up in one hand and gave him a one-fingered pat on his tiny top hat. Setting the robot on Gregory’s desk, the boy finally looked at the terrified kid in the bed. “Hey, Gregory! Good to see you again—oh, crap, no wait.” The boy paused, scrunching up his face in thought. “I met you before, but you haven’t met me…”

He huffed, then offered Gregory a smile and stuck out his hand.

“I know you’re not going to believe me right away, but I’m you… kinda. I’m this universe’s version of you, just… from the future. And I know it’s a lot to process but I don’t have long to talk because of the whole time paradox thing with meeting yourself so please don’t yell for dads and just let me explain, okay?”

He was panting slightly at the end of his rant, the hand still held out and a pleading look in his deep brown eyes.  

Gregory went to interject many times during his alternate self’s explanation—though there was no clear sign of his own mouth vomit stopping anytime soon. He was forced to hold back his thoughts and listen, still feeling half-inclined to call for Mike and Jeremy out of urgency. In his heart, he knew this tirade was the result of a guy who desperately needed for Gregory to hear this. Too earnest was the speech to be chalked up as lies…

Could Gregory even call this the weirdest moment in his life thus far, after everything?

“Okay!” he called in a harsh whisper, watching his older form panting. Now that Gregory was fully awake, he could get a good look at him. It was indeed unmistakably himself without the baby fat on his cheeks—stretched out and lean as his father predicted. Jumping from his bunk to examine this doppelgänger up close, Gregory put two and two together. “You must be the reason I’m here! Dude, do you even know what you put me through today? I had no idea what happened! I thought I was going crazy…”

“Yeah, I know, and I’m sorry!” Older Greg’s face twisted in genuine empathy. “But—okay, time travel gets real complicated, real fast… I only had like a split-second window to grab you and couldn’t control the exact time you ended up, just the day. I figured I needed to err on the side of earlier rather than later based on what dad told me when I was a kid, and—”

He broke off, shoulders slumping as he took in his doppelgänger’s wide-eyed gaze of confusion. Damn, that silver was always disconcerting no matter how many times he saw it…

It made Gregory’s heart ache for all the other versions of himself who missed out on an ideal life—but the one in front of him certainly had it as one of the worst.

“Okay, let me back up,” he tried again, sparing a quick glance at his watch. “First of all, you gotta accept there’s different realities out there. Ever heard of the butterfly effect? One tiny event can put the future on a whole different track. Well, our lives are like that—except way more intense. But you clearly already know that.” He pointed to his normal, amber eyes, indicating the difference the Remnant made—and a big hint that there was some truth to this crazy spiel.

“Way to show off your normal eyes, jerk. But—okay, I… I do totally believe you.” Gregory needed to get this straightened out right away. He rubbed the back of his neck as he began to fully comprehend his situation, realizing that in the grand scheme of things maybe this alternate self’s words had some merit. “I don’t get it though. Why me—this version of me? And why here? Like—when did I learn to time travel?”

Curiously, he looked to the now altered Fazwatch on his future self’s arm and reached out as if to grab it. It was a Frankenstein piece, stitched up with extra wires and parts boasting a new display screen and extra buttons while maintaining its bear-head shape.

“Whoa—no way, dude, this one’s mine,” the older boy said quickly, snatching his arm out of reach only to pat his pocket a second later. “I’ve got one for you in here. And… okay, so I don’t a hundred percent know if you’re the only immortal Gregory, but you’re the only one I’ve been able to find and that’s pretty essential for this whole thing to work, so…”

He trailed off with a grimace. There was no way to explain this without it sounding horrible. So, with the little time he had, he’d try his best to ease into it.

“So, how can we time travel? Short answer: a universe-crossing loop,” Greg went onto explain. “Another me—you, technically—gave me this watch and told me how to reverse-engineer it so I could make a second one. When I did that, I ran into another version of us and figured out I had to find the start of it all and grab you. Then, the cycle could be complete and everything should fall into place for our other selves.”

The older boy shrugged, as if that explained anything without adding more questions. He pressed a hand to his chest, the altered watch blinking a random countdown in the dim light of the bedroom. “I’m the Gregory from this universe. When I was your age—like literally right now in this moment, I mean—I completely lost a day in my life. Turns out you were taking my place; when one of us shows up in the wrong universe, the true Gregory gets… displaced, I guess is the best way to put it. Weird time stuff, I dunno.”

He shrugged again, wishing he could provide more information for both of them… but he was simply working with all the knowledge he’d gathered over the years, and it came with a lot of chunks.

So, in a sense, all of this was still an experimental thing. It did make Gregory relieved to know that somehow, somewhere, there was at least one version of his family that was happy and together (his now-definitely-true dad Freddy and his sentient AI notwithstanding).  

“Bitchin'...,” Gregory murmured, finally emerging from the fog of astonishment. Though, he was stumped at one part: why did he need his immortality?

“What thing are you talking about exactly? If you're going to try an experiment on me, think twice,” Gregory warned, even untrustworthy of himself at a first glance. “I know all our weaknesses.”

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for himself to elaborate. He doubted he’d ever intentionally look to harm himself—that sounded counterproductive and stupid—but it was worth the warning. Better safe than sorry.

“So do I,” Gregory countered, meeting his doppelgänger’s stare with a measured one of his own. “And I know one of them is that you’d do anything to make sure that at least one of your lives is the happiest it can be.” His eyes widened, quickly back-pedaling when he realized how harsh that sounded. “N-Not that your real life isn’t great! Oh my god, I wish Freddy and the others achieved legit sentience… Uh, not for the same reason, I mean—shit.”

Alternate Gregory sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry, this is… so hard to explain,” he went on, sitting heavily in the desk chair. He thought for a second, then stood and gestured for Gregory to take his place. “Actually, you sit—seriously. I don’t think you’re gonna pass out, but you might get a little light-headed from information overload.”

Hard to explain, and harder to comprehend.

Gregory pedaled backwards to sit at his desk in turn as the tingly dizziness was already starting to make itself known. Despite the natural want to believe in himself, he had to take a moment to spit out a bitter laugh. “Good to know I’m still fucked up, Remnant or not.”

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. After all, his immortality seemed to be a prized feature; not that he wanted to use it, but it clearly proved important. His future, alternate self needed his help and if it meant keeping the people he loved safe, Gregory would truly do anything. It was a simple fact he couldn't deny and had been thoroughly called out on already.

“I've got all night now,” he said, figuring maybe he should be a little more patient with himself. After all, if he himself didn't like to be rushed, what made his alternate any different? “I promise I'll let you know if I’m about to pass out.”

A half joke, though Gregory wouldn't put it past himself to do so from information overload he could be receiving tonight.

“Um, yeah, about that…” The older boy looked at his watch again, grimacing at the countdown; 9:56 blinked in bright red text. “So we actually only have about ten minutes before I’ve gotta go—any longer and we risk fucking everything up. We’re really not supposed to interact at all, but I had to fill you in. Oh, and give you this—don’t touch any buttons now, it’s already calibrated for the next jump.”

Fishing an identical Franken-Fazwatch out of his pocket, Gregory handed it to his younger self with the utmost reverence.

“So, okay, Spark Notes version,” he went on, speaking a bit quicker now. “That butterfly effect thing? When it comes to the Aftons and Emilys, turns out we’re the ones behind it—and in effect, our own futures. I used to think my world was the ‘original,’ but that’s not true; it’s just one of many possibilities. Thing is, most of the offshoots aren’t possible without our influence.”

He paused, letting that sink in for a moment before continuing in a steady tone.

“Your reality? That’s what happens if we don’t go back and try to fix things. Pappy—er, William goes insane and becomes a murderer after Evan dies, and it all goes downhill from there until you showed up at the Pizzaplex. But… we can stop that. You can stop that.”

Determination laced Gregory’s face, his will steadfast as ever. “Go back to the past and try to prevent the wrongs that’ve happened to our families—that’s the only way to ensure futures like this can be possible. It won’t be easy, but if you don’t do anything then they’ll always just end up in a cycle of suffering.”

5:34. Five and a half minutes left for Gregory to bombard himself with questions.

The younger boy looked at the new, identical watch, switching it out with the one currently on his wrist. Thankfully, he actually favored the heavier weighted one on his wrist better. He saw it as an upgrade, something to be prized and protected just like the original holding so many memories that he tucked in his pocket.

“So—for all the timelines, I'm the only one that's capable of making a better outcome for everyone? I… can save them?” Gregory asked to make sure.

As he was given a nod of confirmation, Gregory felt like there was a significant amount of responsibility now thrust upon his shoulders. It was burdensome… and almost honorable in a way to be trusted with such a heavy task. With all he’d gone through, he felt like he already had the experience and wherewithal to accomplish such a feat. Gregory looked at the odd formula that his older self punched into his watch, finding there was a history function and a way to keep revisiting the same coordinates that were punched in last. A convenient feature, should Gregory fuck up royally.

Despite running a worried hand through his hair, Gregory looked up to his older self with no sign of backing down.

“Am I going to need anything else before I go?” he asked, deciding maybe he should pick up Ditty—

However, this wasn't really his Ditty. It was a present for the real Gregory of this universe. So instead, he bent at the waist and carefully placed the little bot back in the home he constructed on the loft-desk.

“Oh my god,” the older Greg breathed, just now noticing the little structure on the desk. A wistful smile crossed his face and he pointed to Ditty happily running to and fro. “Dad swore I made that thing, but I could not remember doing that. I thought he was just messing with me and did it while I was asleep…”

Ditty himself had been a surprise too, as was his dads’ concern about his apparent double-memory loss. In the morning he’d forget the whole traumatic day and be back to his usual self, demanding pancakes before a visit with his extended family.

“Anyway, is there anything else you need besides the watch...” Gregory frowned, looking off to the side. “I… can’t be much help there, honestly. I wasn’t the one going through it, so I don’t even know most of what happened. All I can tell you is that it might take multiple tries to get it right. This whole thing is a lot of trial and error. And… keep an eye on dad—Michael, I mean. I heard he can be… a lot sometimes.”

An indecipherable expression crossed the boy's face before his eyes suddenly widened with a small gasp.

“Oh, and most important: no matter how bad you want to, don’t try and go home before the Fazwatch takes you there. From what other-you told me, it’s not something you can force. I know you probably wanna check in with everyone, but… don’t.”  

Seems he’d be going into this venture blind. Gregory could adapt, already mentally steeling himself for what could be a tough time ahead. He would heed his own warnings about the Fazwatch, figuring he’d get some sign on when it was time to pull back and return to his own time.

Much as he longed for the comfort of Freddy’s hugs, there were people that he loved in what sounded like grave danger. Gregory could never abandon them; they didn’t give up on him when things were getting tough in his own world.

Gregory nodded along, though the warning about Michael? That was confusing as much as it was concerning. Gregory chalked it up to his father’s anxiety needing some extra care and attention.

Poor Mike…

Poor Dad, he lamented silently. Freddy’s fierce love of him had some more context now, if Mike filled the roll of a parental figure when the bear wasn’t up to the task.

Gregory looked back to his watch, seeing how they had mere seconds now.

“I’ll take care of it, whatever’s going down. I promise.” He spoke with a tone of certainty. He needn’t fear death; even his older self saw there was no particularly grave danger waiting for him. Pain was still a legitimate worry, though… but he’d cross that hurdle if and when he came to it.

“Will I see you again?” he asked as a final question.

“For sure! We’ll run into each other—except sometimes you might know me but I won’t know you, or vice versa.” As Greg spoke he seemed to sort of… fizzle at the edges. Segments of his body crackled in and out of existence like he was a glitch in the atmosphere. When he talked again with a sudden twist in his expression his voice sounded far away, cutting off and on like it was trying to come through radio static.

“Oh, shi—… He-ads up—first… real—bad ti—line… careful of M—”

Before he could finish the warning, this universe’s Gregory blinked out of existence like he was never even there. A second later the teen’s watch began its own countdown, blaring bright and bold on screen.

PREPARE FOR CONTINUUM JUMP IN 120 SECONDS.

He had exactly two minutes before he was transported to his first destination:

07/22/2023

It was a date Gregory would never forget. The time his life was completely flipped on its head and everything he thought he knew about the world was challenged: the Saturday he’d gotten trapped in the Pizzaplex with his new ghostly and robotic family.

But… he’d already achieved the desired outcome, right? William was defeated and currently a smashed pile of ash in the basement.

So why was he going back?

There was a minute on the clock; Gregory had to move fast. He grabbed for the essentials—little things he found while snooping throughout his alternate self’s room. Bandages were a given; he tried not to leave anywhere without them. He had no need for a flashlight with his stellar night vision, but it’d be a good tool to blind anything aggressive. When you were being hunted, every second to your advantage counted.

At around the ten second mark, Gregory realized he could no longer pick things up. He was reminded of the ghosts in his universe, intangible unless they made an effort to be a part of the world they no longer quite belonged in. He looked to Ditty, who watched the scene confusedly from his tissue-box home.

“Ta—ke care o— Greg!” he tried to ask of the little guy, knowing his alternate self was going to be confused as all hell whenever he came back into existence.

And then, with nothing more than a blink, he warped through the fabric of reality towards a world so familiar… yet with a darker twist than Gregory could've expected.