Mable: Here we are with one of a few oneshots to tide over between 'Can't Go Home Again' and its sequel. ^-^ I hope you Enjoy!
The Alleyway
"We're going to have to let you go."
"Again?"
"Yes, again… I'll be honest, Schmidt, everything's fallen under. We've got only a couple thousand left to pay off everything… Which means, unfortunately, we can't provide you with this week's pay."
"Please tell me you're kidding… Of course, you're not."
"Sorry, Sport, but that's how it's got to be. I'll tell you what; we've been basically closing out everything and there's a lot of stuff out in the back alley. If you find anything you want, then you're welcome to it."
So, it had come to this. As though it wasn't already embarrassing enough to explain to possible employers that the same business fired him numerous times and then went under, now he had to dig his payment out of a dumpster. It was official, Mike Schmidt had become a loser. A loser in life, a loser in the workforce, and soon to be a loser in dumpster diving. Sure, he had a second job that would keep him afloat well enough, but it wasn't like he was going to be able to do much else with that. As it was, he had little time or money to do anything else but work.
"Let's see if we can get this bar any lower," Mike faux confidently proclaimed as he strode into the alley. "Maybe I'll find a nice rope to hang myself with."
One look at the back alley showed that he was about to rummage through the gutter. Not only was it raining, which made anything salvageable a wettened mess anyway, but it was jammed packed with literal garbage. He was beyond feeling disgusted at this point and just shrugged it off as he began to climb over furniture and trash.
"Maybe I can at least find out whatever the hell happened to my office chair…" He had wanted to smuggle it out before they had gotten to it but, alas, it was gone from his office already when he arrived for the night shift that wouldn't be. He stepped over a black trash bag spilling forth with paper figures and posters, then stumbled against a dumpster and his hand slid on something slick clinging to the side. "For Freddy's sake…" He wiped his hand off on his pants and shined his flashlight around. "What did I even trip on?"
It looked to be a rolled rug, but it smelled like there could've been a body shoved into it too. Mike was less than impressed and scowled, moving the flashlight down the wall and looking at the discarded trash.
Until his flashlight landed on something that was certainly not trash.
At first, Mike thought it really was some sort of small body and his blue-grey eyes popped open wider. Then he realized that this was not the case, but what it was still was something of immediate interest. It was a slender, black body, pulled into itself. He saw what looked like striped legs half hidden underneath a trash bag that he himself knocked over while stumbling around. Then, turned away from him, was a mask.
"Is that… Is that an animatronic?" Mike asked himself. He had become accustomed to talking to himself during the night and it wasn't going to change in the dirty alley. Especially when he was still in the presence of animatronics. "I'll be damned, it is an animatronic," Mike affirmed as he moved in and shined his light over its slender body. "Who'd throw something like that out here?" As far as he knew, the animatronics were being taken away to be scraped, so he wasn't sure why one would be abandoned back here with the garbage. "Maybe it's broken."
Mike nudged it and received no response, so he then slid his hand under its head, turning and lifting it so he could see the white mask. Its face was trapped in a smile and its face paint was both faded and partially running down its face. Whatever paint they had used was obviously not waterproof. Mike slid his hand down to the neck and watched the head loll back with little resistance. Its arms hung limp at its sides, ending in the same stripes as its legs. From the dirt and the running paint, it was obvious that nobody had been taking care of it.
Something about that alone made him feel a little sorry for the thing. Sure, the animatronics were aggressive- though this one was lifeless- but there was always something that bothered him about watching them fall apart. Such as watching Foxy constantly be in a state of disarray, and that was only more disturbing if his theory about the 'missing' children and the animatronics were true. Before Mike continued, he moved the garbage bag off its legs and shoved it off to the side. Then he could get a better look at what he was holding.
In the moment that he leaned to move the bag, Mike heard what almost sounded like a buzzing noise. He blinked in confusion and started to lean down. "Wait, is it buzzing?" The humming seemed to be coming from inside its chest and Mike leaned closer to its waterlogged chest. There was clearly a metal hum coming from inside of it. In a sense, it almost sounded like it was on. He fully pressed his ear to its chest. Only once this close did he notice that the humming was actually a light, quick ticking noise. "That's weird…" Though before he could react any further
Mike was suddenly hit by a louder, distorted radio sounding noise. Of course, it only sounded so loud because Mike was right against the source. He still threw himself back like the animatronic had burned him. Now back a few feet, he could only watch in growing horror as the once limp animatronic started to move. Its body spasmed, a hand clenched at the wet ground, and then nothing, because Mike was already running back down the alley. He sprung over the carpet roll, dashed around the corner, made a beeline for his car, and threw himself inside.
It wasn't until he was jamming the key into the ignition that he noticed he wasn't being followed. He looked down towards the alley and waited for the animatronic to appear, but it didn't. It took a few moments before he realized that it wasn't coming and even then, he had to struggle to get his heartrate back down.
"Moving animatronic- Why am I even surprised?" Mike muttered through his panting. His adrenaline was still running high and his hands clenched and unclenched on the steering wheel. Then, as quickly as he was terrified, he started to wonder whether or not he wanted to creep back and check in the alley for the animatronic. "Why would I go back unless I'm a glutton for punishment?" Mike flatly asked himself, glancing up at the mirror, catching a glimpse of his partially wet form. "Because you are. You came back to this job where you risk your life to dig in a dumpster."
With that final thought, Mike closed his eyes tightly and forced himself to open the door again. He took his flashlight, but left his keys in the car, unsure if he would have to dive back in and drive away at fast as he could without risking being pulled over. With a slow inhale that he held in, Mike started down the alleyway again, looking around carefully at every dark shadow. All of this turned out to be anxiety over nothing as his light soon fell on the figure still laying behind the pizzeria. The animatronic was still once more.
Mike dared to move closer and nudged its side with his foot. He was answered with another weak static noise. It no longer tried to move, and he knelt beside it, looking over its features. He then lifted its head a little and turned it towards him. Pinpricks of light flickered in its eyes as it lightly shook in his grasp, clearly malfunctioning. From the aggressive-like noises in its chest he knew that it was fearful. From the shuddering and twitching, he knew it was in some form of pain. Mike's face softened as his fear turned to pity.
"This is just sad…" Mike sighed and lifted the puppet-like animatronic closer to him to get it off the wet ground. Its body was still as limp as a ragdoll's. "What am I supposed to do, tell someone or…?" Or take it home was the other option. Take his own animatronic home and nurse it back to health, or the animatronic equivalent. "Which is completely insane. Why don't I just sign my own death certificate now?" he mentally asked as he shirked off his uniform jacket. He lifted the animatronic upwards enough that he could wrap the jacket around it.
It wasn't much of a disguise or protection from the rain, but it was just enough to help. Mike then dared to slip his other arm under its legs and went to lift it. The animatronic was surprising light and was easy to move, with the only struggle being carrying it over the same obstacle coarse that he passed on the way in. With it now in his arms he could smell that it reeked of- for lack of a better word- trash water. It would need to be cleaned, which was fine by him. He was planning on sterilizing whatever came out of the alley anyway.
It moved again, but this time Mike wasn't fearful, because the movement involved its head lulling onto his shoulder. As though the animatronic was partially conscious. Mike subconsciously held the Puppet a little tighter to his chest as he approached the car. He laid it in the back seat and then got in the front to drive home, aiming the rearview mirror so that he could keep his eye on the animatronic the entire drive home. It didn't more at all once it had been set down and stayed largely quiet the entire trip.
It was only once they made it back to the apartment and that Mike lifted it back in his arms again that he realized the alley smell had followed them. Being that it was already soaked through, he didn't know if submerging it was safe. He fumbled his way into the apartment, carried it into the bathroom, and then laid it down in the tub so it wouldn't drip anymore of the refuse water onto his floor. He grabbed a canister of disinfectant wipes out from under the sink and started tearing them out by the handful.
He began to rub over the black fabric to try and get out whatever was trying to sink in. The smell of the cleaner was overpowering, and he wasn't sure if his hands were safe being soaked in the chemical mixture, but he prevailed onwards. Slowly, the Puppet became the slightest bit more active, lulling its head and resting a hand on its chest. It fingers tightened on its buttons and it let out a broken, rattling noise. Mike paused to look closer at the motion. It grasped at itself, head turning and body twisting, and the rattling echoed hollowly.
It was in pain. Something inside of its chest was broken, and Mike had absolutely no idea how to fix it. First thing was first: he needed to calm it down.
"We're just going to get you cleaned up, okay?" Mike tried to soothe. "Then we're going to figure out what's causing that ticking. Just bear with me and let me get you clean." Of course, he couldn't tell whether this was effectively cleaning it or not. It was more a matter of making sure that the cleaner touched every part of fabric and that alley was washed away by the smell of chemical lemons. Once he had gone though twenty of the sheets, he reached out for one of his towels and started to wrap it around the limp form.
"I'm going to pick you up now," Mike warned. The animatronic fidgeted only a little as he hoisted it up and carried it out of the bathroom.
Mike's apartment was rather small. After years of struggling to pay the rent, he had set his standards just low enough that he could be comfortable without having to worry about juggling jobs. That way the unceremonious drop out of a security guard job wouldn't land him sleeping in his car. Between the choice of a comfortable sized but dingy apartment or a nice, but extremely cramped one, the latter had won out. It was nice, but it was a tight living arrangement, and now he was no longer alone.
This was especially a problem now that Mike had something he needed to work on and nowhere to work on it. He looked around the living room, considering his options, and with a defeated sigh took it into the bedroom. He laid it on his bed and patted it with the towel a little longer, then leaned down to press his ear to its chest. He could hear mechanic grinding and ticking; none of which sounded correct. Drawing back, he looked at the buttons.
"I don't suppose these actually open you up?" Mike asked. It was obvious that it was in no state to respond. "Alright, you sit tight for just a minute."
Mike didn't have any clue what he was getting into. He didn't have the tools, he didn't know what was on the inside, and he certainly didn't know how to fix whatever was there. Thankfully, he did know who would.
"Come on, come on. Pick up…" Mike chanted as he paced in the small kitchen. Occasionally he stopped to stare out the kitchen window at the pouring rain outside. What a dreary day to bring home an abandoned animatronic. More importantly, he couldn't imagine who would dump what seemed to be a fine animatronic out in the alley. Unless they had dumped it because it was broken. "Fritz, I swear to-."
"Hello?" a voice rang out on the other side.
"Fritz, I need a big favor," Mike spoke. "I got fired from Freddy's and they told me to collect my paycheck in the alley, which I did, and I found this black and white mime laying out back. I brought it home, cleaned it up, and it sounds broken, and it's awake, and it's in pain," he quickly layered out. "Long story short, I need you to come over here and fix it."
"Hold on, slow down! Did you say- a black and white mime- the Puppet?" This was a question that Mike couldn't answer. He had no idea what 'the Puppet' was; though the animatronic laying on his bed did look puppet-like. "You found the Puppet?! Where is it now?!"
"Laying on my bed," Mike casually answered. "Sound's like you've got a history. Which is great, because I'm going in completely blind." He could hear Fritz's panic in his voice. "…So, are you coming over?"
"Are you serious?! That- Mike, I was hunted by the Puppet!" Fritz pointed out. "It was back at the Freddy's I worked at! It was supposed to have been destroyed with the other Toy animatronics!" There was a long pause. "Mike, this isn't like the animatronics you've been around."
"No, it's not. It's grabbing at its chest and writhing in pain. I've never seen any animatronic do this before," Mike pointed out with more determination. "Look, fine, you won't come by. Would you at least help me figure out how to fix it?" There was silence over the line.
"…Alright," Fritz answered in defeat. "…But you need to do what I say exactly, and if it becomes aggressive then we're going to stop this and figure something else out… And you have to be my eyes, okay?" Mike agreed to this. "Okay, so… The first part's the hardest. We need to see what's broken inside."
"Right. I looked around for an opening, but I couldn't find one," Mike pointed out.
"That's because there isn't one. The Puppet was virtually impossible to maintenance because of it." Fritz paused to sigh on the line. "…Do you have a fabric knife?"
"I don't. I have a box cutter- oh…" Almost immediately it sunk in what Fritz was starting to suggest. He wanted him to slice open the Puppet and see what was rattling around inside.
"That should work… I need you to look inside and see how it looks on the inside…" Fritz paused for a moment. "There's, uh… I'm guessing you didn't find a music box?... No, of course not, okay, just… Do that."
"Okay…" Mike only now realized he was biting his lip. "I'm going to set you down while I do this. Stay close." With that, Mike set the phone on the counter and went into his tool drawer for the box cutter. Just holding its weight in his hand made him feel a little uncomfortable. With a slow exhale, he headed into the bedroom once again and approached the bed.
The Puppet lulled its head and looked to him. The moment it saw the box cutter pinpricks of light appeared in its eyes and the rattling in its chest grew louder. It grabbed back at the bedding and tried to claw its way back, with its rattling noises sounding broken and aggressive. Mike raised his hands in defense.
"Wait, this isn't what it looks like." Watching the animatronic pathetically fidget on the bed only made him feel worse about what he was going to do. He a couple of steps and was already at the foot of the bed. "I need to see what's broken, so I can fix you, and the only way to do that is to… It's going to be a small cut. I promise." The static started to lower. Then, suddenly, there was a loud click and the noise stopped abruptly. The Puppet collapsed on the bed and the lights in its eyes vanished. For a moment Mike thought it fainted, but it then started to sluggishly move.
It drew its legs closer as it grabbed at its chest again. Mike was biting his lip again as he moved to the side of the bed beside the animatronic. He looked over its chest from this angle.
"I'm going to make this as quick and as easy as possible," Mike assured as he looked over it. The Puppet's mask had this passive look. No smile, vacant eyes, touched with exhaustion, and obviously steeped in discomfort. It was already acting leagues more human than any animatronic Mike had confronted, but considering what he was about to do that only made it worst. He sat down and continued to look, then came up with a new tactic. "How about I go through your back? It'll be easier to hide a seam and you won't have to look at it."
The Puppet made a weary motion to turn over and Mike guided it into place. Like the front, there was no opening on the back. He swallowed thickly and opened the box cutter.
"I'm going to be quick," Mike promised. He found a spot slightly off to the side, as to not be directly on the spine, and pressed the box cutter against the soft fabric. With one smooth motion, he cut into the black.
The Puppet nearly wailed in response. It was a quick cry, but loud and filled with out of tune noises, popping, crackling, and static. Yet underneath it, to Mike's surprise, he actually did hear a voice. It was like a human's, possibly male, and complete filled with agony for those few seconds. He didn't know animatronics could feel pain, but this one had achieved it.
"All done. Now I'm just going to take a look inside," Mike warned as he gently opened the slice. He grabbed his flashlight off his belt and shined it inside. At first, he just thought he was looking at an odd endoskeleton, but then he realized there was something else in the chest cavity, making the rattling noise. "What is this…?" While it was partially broken and seemed to be loose, he recognized it as a similar structure to the inside of a music box. "A music box? Guess that's what's making the ticking. Looks to be the right spot."
The Puppet was trembling as he reached in and retrieved a loose object that almost looked like a washer and lifted it out. He studied it in between his fingers. "What did this?" he muttered under his breath. It was as though something either crushed or somehow jostled the animatronic enough to smash piece of the music box structure inside. If he thought of it like internal organs, ignoring the fact that a human would bleed out, then he could understand how the striped one could be in so much pain.
"Let me grab my phone, alright?" Mike volunteered and went to get the phone. He returned a few minutes later and sat back down on the bed. "I've got it opened. It looks like there's some sort of music box inside."
"An internal music box; yeah, I know. Is it damaged?"
"Pretty much. Looks a little crushed, but it's savable." Mike narrowed his gaze and peered closer into the opening. "To me, it just looks like a few little things need replacing and a lot of things need tightening." He drew back and looked over the Puppet as Fritz got lost in explanations. It was now that Mike realized that the Puppet was still trembling from the slice. Its arms were grabbing his pillow in a death grip and its mask was still buried into it. It was still shaking like a leaf as he reached out to touch its shoulder.
"Hey," Mike said worriedly, "you holding up okay?" In response, the Puppet turned its head to face him. His heart immediately dropped.
The look on its mask had shifted to anguish as purple trails of what seemed like paint dribbled down its mask and stained the pillow. The Puppet was crying, and it looked entirely helpless.
Mike had brought it home, had cleaned it, had decided to fix it, but it was only in that moment of eye contact, watching it fall apart, that Mike came to the immediate determination that it wouldn't be going anywhere. He was going to keep it with him, protect it, and wanted it with a vigor that he didn't know he had. He had to protect this thing, which was too human to be an animatronic. No alley nor warehouse would be enough. Mike would take the risk and keep it here.
"Mike? You there?"
But first, he had to get it back in working condition and ease its pain. Mike reached out and pet over the back of the Puppet's head as he spoke. "Yeah, I'm here. So, what's the immediate plan?"
"Swing by my place and we'll see if we can get together what tools we're going to need. Maybe my key still works at the Fazbear warehouse… And if you can, get as good of a look as you can. A picture would be better, but I'm going to just assume you don't have a camera on hand." Indeed, Mike did not. Even if he did have money he was willing to spend recklessly, he wasn't sure if he would spend it on a camera of all things. "So… Just come over here- don't move the Puppet, we don't want anything inside getting anymore damaged."
"That I can do," Mike agreed and began to end the call. "I'll see you in a minute."
"But before you go!" Fritz blurted out. "You didn't happen to see any small music boxes in the alleyway, did you?" Of course, Mike had not. "We'll check the warehouse. There used to be a music box that would keep the Puppet dormant at night. It might be the best thing to effectively 'sedate' it. We'll look around, just get over here." With that, the call ended, and Mike shoved his phone in his pocket.
"I'm going to be gone for a little bit to get the tools and parts to fix this," Mike assured the Puppet, continuing to pet the back of its head. It curled slightly into the pillow, wincing at the growing pain from its wounds. "I won't be gone long, so don't move around too much." It let out a low noise in some form of agreement and thankfully seemed to have stopped crying. Somehow the smallest bit of comfort had calmed it down. Mike spent a few more moments petting its head and trying to soothe it enough that he could leave it alone.
"One hour at most and already attached. I've really got to get some friends or something," Mike mentally pointed out. It should've been somewhat mocking, but he instead accepted it as it was. Maybe he was just too eager to accept the animatronic. Either way, he drew back and stood from the bed, then headed out of the apartment.
It took only about thirty minutes before Mike was back. He entered the bedroom with a small box of tools, a small bag of parts, and him holding his breath. Fritz had walked him through most of what he was going to see and do, but there was no denying that actually doing it was another matter entirely. Thankfully, the Puppet hadn't moved much. It slightly turned its head to acknowledge Mike's arrival.
"I'm back," Mike announced with a forced smile as he approached the bed. "Ready to get this over and done with?" The Puppet's eyes actually closed as it released a noise like an exhale. It was exhausted, and he knew that he needed to fix it sooner than later, so that it would be able to finally rest. "I'll put you back together again. I promise," Mike affirmed. Something about this comment caused the animatronic to shudder, but it then relaxed out of weariness. He could only wonder how long it had been broken.
Mike peered into its back and remembered what Fritz had told him to do. First and foremost, he needed to get the animatronic calm, and he already had an idea for that. He reached out and pet down the Puppet's back, and made sure not to touch the wound. He began to hum a familiar tune low in his chest. The soft, soothing hum of a song that Fritz had suggested.
"My grandfather's clock was too tall for the shelf, so it stood ninety years on the floor,~" Mike gently began to sing. He wasn't much of a singer in the sense that he didn't usually sing when he was alone, but he wanted to see if it would work. For a moment, the Puppet's hand tightened on the bedsheets, like it was fighting the effects of the song. "It was taller by half than the old man himself, but weighed not a single pound more.~"
The grip started to ease and slowly the fingers released the bedsheets. Mike continued to pet over its back and kept a close eye to see when it was finally under. He leaned over and looked over its mask, where its smile was gone and its eyes were now closed. It had fallen into some semblance of sleep. This meant it was time for Mike to work.
Mike continued humming as he retrieved the tools and started to work into the sliced opening. It was all a matter of struggling to remember what Fritz had talked him through and fiddling with parts. There were so many small pieces that he had to be careful with, and it all came out much more like a music box than an animatronic. Not that Mike had worked on an animatronic either beyond basic tampering. The low crackling and clicking became less obvious until snapping a cylinder into place made everything go quiet. Mike paused, his humming stopping, and looked over the inside.
He knew that he was finished. He started to put Fritz's tools away before looking for something to stitch with. It only now occurred to him that he hadn't brought anything for the job. With a moment of panic, Mike remembered the needle and thread he kept in his dresser drawer to mend clothing. He was soon digging through the drawer. "Come on, where is it? I don't want to be doing this after he wakes up… Hah!" He found the spool at this moment, still with the needle stuck through the side. "Bingo!"
Back on the bed, he quickly threaded the needle with the dark brown thread before leaning in to stitch. He felt over the back for the slice. Then he felt again, furrowing his brown. Finally, Mike turned the Puppet enough to see it better in the light. To his alarm, there was merely a strange line down the Puppet's back. The slice started closing itself.
"What in the-?" Mike began but was answered with a slight shift from the thin animatronic. Part of Mike almost expected it to jump up right away, but it instead fidgeted and curled tighter together.
It became obvious that the Puppet was still asleep. It had to have been exhausted; Mike knew that he was and didn't want to wake it. He pet over its head a few times in soothing motions and tried to silently apologize for all the suffering. Yet only now did Mike fully take in the gravity of everything he had done. He had repaired a possibly dangerous animatronic and brought it home with him, was the obvious assumption. The secondary, darker implication was that he had found an abandoned, broken, sentient being in an alley and performed what was effectively surgery on it.
It had cried. It knew what was happening and had felt every moment of it. It made Mike feel ill, and disgusting. He kept going back to that scream when he had sliced into the fabric. Mechanical or not, it had been a human sort of scream, and it had clearly felt everything up until it had fallen asleep. Knowing that made it laying alone in an alleyway so much worse. Mike couldn't stand thinking about it anymore.
Instead, Mike slid up along the bed and sat with his back against the bedframe. He stared down at the Puppet for a few moments before reaching out and carefully scooping his arms underneath it. He hesitantly dragged it along the bed and rested it on his chest and across his lap. He wasn't afraid of it any longer, he hadn't been for a while, and it was the easily way to alleviate some of the growing emotions. The guilt of what he had to do, the anger towards the pizzeria itself, and everything else was buffered by knowing that he was helping now.
"Better?" Mike murmured quietly. "Mostly dry and not completely broken. That's got to be a little better…"
It didn't respond, but he wasn't surprised by it. Instead he gave a quiet exhale and rested his head back against the bedframe and stared at the ceiling above. What a day; what a strange and amazing day. Here he was, out of the job yet again, Freddy's closed for good, and holding an animatronic to him. The Puppet gave a light twitch in its arm and Mike looked down at it again.
He watched the fingers on its hand twitch tentatively, as though testing themselves, and then watched as they finally started to grip onto the cloth of his shirt. It was a weak hold, but a desperate one nonetheless. He assumed that it was starting to come back around and decided to continue trying to console it. He moved his hand to rest on its back and noticed as it gave a light shudder.
"It's okay. You're safe now. I'm going to keep you safe." Mike knew what he was agreeing to, but it was too tempting to not offer it. The thought of having an animatronic that acted human and keeping it close by was tempting, especially since he had seen what would've happened if he wouldn't have found it. It probably would've sat in the back alley broken, wet, and in pain, until it either shut down or was found by someone from Freddy's. That alone seemed like a fate worse than death as Mike knew for a fact that they didn't do well with animatronic maintenance.
Then, before his mind could continue wandering down that dark alley, the Puppet moved again. Its movements were still sluggish and delayed as it lightly shifted. Its other hand made it to his uniform shirt and tightened into it, so that it was now clutching onto him. It pressed its mask into his chest and gave a small shudder. It only took a few seconds before Mike felt a damp sensation through his shirt. The tears had returned, but stains were the least of his concern. The fact that the animatronic was crying again was much more pressing.
"Hey, it's okay," Mike tried to ease. "It's all over now. You're fixed again." He almost immediately realized that this probably was not what it was weeping over. Perhaps it was a mix of things. Maybe fear, perhaps uncertainty, probably sadness at the scenario in general; it had been fixed, but it was still asking for help as it tugged itself tighter into his shirt. "And Fritz thought it was dangerous," Mike mentally remarked as he wrapped both arms fully around the slender animatronic. It tensed for a moment, seemingly uncertain about letting its guard down, but then grew limp again.
It gave into trusting him just as quickly as Mike gave in to helping it. Maybe they weren't so different after all.
"I'm… I'm not taking you back to Freddy's. It's closing anyway, but even if it wasn't I wouldn't. It's not safe for you to go back there." Mike almost expected the animatronic to lash out or to react more than it did, but it simply held on tighter, and gave a light shiver. "I'm going to take care of you from now on. The apartment's a little…" He stared out the bedroom door and into the edge of the kitchen. "…It's still better than Freddy's."
The Puppet released a sighing noise. Perhaps it was agreeing with him in a way. Mike gave a shaky inhale and exhale.
"…I can't imagine how long you were back there… Was it more than a day?" He didn't think that it was going to answer, but the way it tightened further against him answered his question. "You don't need to answer that… And I'm sorry," Mike apologized, "for hurting you. I should've been more careful." He felt over where the slice had been, but not it wasn't able to be felt. The Puppet pulled its legs up closer in response and seemed to finally stop crying.
The purple stains on his clothes went ignored, as it wasn't like he could get them out before they dried anyway. Instead, he dared to glance down at its face and noticed the purple fluid smeared on the whiteness. Mike raised his sleeve to wipe it away, to which the Puppet retracted abruptly.
"Easy. I'm just cleaning you off. I'm not going to touch your mask too much," Mike reassured as he gently cleaned at the animatronic's face. He was almost shocked that the porcelain was in such good condition. He would've expected it to get cracked. Then the Puppet released a noise that he was not expecting. Instead of a pained chime or a broken tune, it let out a soft sort of trill. A pleased sort of noise that countered the frequent noises of pain before then. Mike slowed down at hearing it, but then continued to clean away the tears.
"That feel any better?" he coaxed and received another chiming trill. "By the way, I'm Mike," he added, assuming it was better late than never. The Puppet responded by turning its mask back against him as its grip began to soften. It seemed to still be tired.
"You can rest if you need to. I'm not going anywhere," Mike reassured. "I promise you're safe." He could already feel that peculiar protectiveness returning. Its grip softened, and he knew exactly when the Puppet returned to sleep- or sleep mode, or the like- by how the tenseness melted away. It was at his mercy again, though this time willingly. Mike was going to make sure that the Puppet didn't regret it.
At some point during the evening, Mike remembered sliding down onto the bed and just going to sleep. Possibly because there wasn't anything he could do in the bedroom while still not feeling secure enough to leave the Puppet. It wasn't all disagreeable though; he still got a rush every time he stopped and really thought about how he was holding a living animatronic. Freddy and the gang had always been extremely aggressive, which meant that even if they were haunted- it didn't take a genius to figure it out- they would not accept outside help.
Mike awoke with the Puppet's arms wrapped tightly around his torso and neck; it was accepting his presence just fine.
He had moved the pillow over his head at some point to block out the lights and partially noticed the comforter rolled over him and tucked around the animatronic. It was enough of an effort to allow Mike to sleep, but here he was waking at the early hours of the morning. Mostly because of the nagging feeling reminding him that he hadn't eaten in an abnormally long time. He stretched out on the bed, feeling the Puppet's arms tighten a tad more as he fidgeted. Though looking at the mask showed it was still in its sleep mode.
He was careful to unweave its arms and gently laid the Puppet on the bed beside him. It fidgeted slightly, but he rubbed over its shoulder and arm until he was certain it relaxed again. Then he tugged the blanket up to its shoulders and tucked it back in, treating it just like a human. It curled up tighter under the blankets in response.
"Never thought I'd see the day when I found an animatronic that's actually cute. Considering that's supposed to be the point, Freddy Fazbear's failing in their character design department," Mike thought. It felt better to add the insult at the end, so that it didn't just seem like he was admiring the Puppet. Though he did feel bad leaving it alone in here. "I'll just make a sandwich or something quick. Don't want it-… Him? Don't want him waking up without me." Something about it felt like a 'him'. Mike wasn't sure how to describe it, but he had that illusion.
Mike shut the bedroom door to a crack and headed to the kitchen to put a sandwich together. It wasn't much, but he wasn't wanting a large meal since he was returning to bed and headed to the couch. He turned the volume down low and flipped through the channels as he slowly chewed through the meal. Even though half-awake, his mind was rushing with thoughts about the night before. Apparently, he was just living with an animatronic now, he assumed. It was a confusing change, but Mike couldn't help but be a little intrigued by it.
They would make it work. Mike would go to work as usual and come home to an animatronic. Maybe he wouldn't get a second job again until he was certain that the Puppet was comfortable in the apartment.
"Just planning this all out while sitting on the couch, eating a sandwich. Like this is just a normal night," Mike thought. "…I mean, still better than most of my nights at Freddy's, but that's not saying much."
It was then that he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye and glanced over. He was almost taken aback by the slender figure now beside the couch. It was the Puppet standing in the dim light of the television and now staring him down. Mike hadn't even heard it enter and blinked in slight confusion before starting to push himself up. He hadn't really expected it to be capable of walking after such an ordeal.
Of course, it was only at that moment that he realized the Puppet was floating about an inch or two above the ground.
"…What?" That was the only thought Mike could force out as he continued sitting there, staring at the animatronic, and holding a sandwich. Only at this very moment- now that it was hovering and acting healed- did he start to wonder if he made a terrible mistake. He wondered if now that it was recovered if it would suddenly flip, throw itself on him, and strangle him to death while still clutching this sandwich. It was a fleeting thought and he stared at the masked animatronic expectantly.
Then in started to move closer towards the couch. It moved in swiftly and smoothly, hovering to him and dropping down upon him. Mike only had a moment to brace himself before the Puppet's mask was pressed back into his chest and the arms wrapped back around his middle. It easily fit against him and eagerly returned to the same scenario as in the bedroom: being as close to Mike as humanly possible.
Mike was only slightly surprised. Surprised because he almost thought it was going to kill him, but also not surprised by how its behavior lined up to earlier. He rested his free hand on its back.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to take off, but I didn't think you were going to wake up before I came back," Mike admitted. The Puppet nuzzled a bit more firmly against him and gave a low warbling deep in its chest. He could feel the peculiar trembling against his hand and noted that it no longer sounded damaged. It was almost like a purr; a warm noise signaling contentment. "I'm taking that as a good sound?" Mike guessed with a slightly amused smile and a playful tone. To his surprise, the animatronic seemed to almost nod against him, though he could've been imagining it.
Not that he needed it. There was something soothing about the warbling that revealed its innocence. A death rattle wouldn't sound so contented, especially since it was loud enough that he could hear it without straining. He had no doubt that this chiming would've been impossible earlier when the internal music box was broken. Between it and the embrace, it seemed like a proper assurance that he had made the right call.
"Guess that means you're doing better. I'm glad. I'll be completely honest when I say that I have pretty much zero experience working on anything bigger than a toaster, and as you can see by my untoasted sandwich, I haven't even gotten around to fixing that… But if anything else is broken, then just point me at it. I'll take a whack at it," Mike rambled. The Puppet responded with another trill and tucked its head under his chin. It silently asked for the same attention as earlier, which Mike wouldn't deny it.
"Better than any paycheck," Mike considered as he took another bite of his sandwich. The television went ignored as he spent more time lost on the current situation. "I guess this confirms that he's sticking around for a while." From how it clutched to him it was obvious that it didn't intend to go anywhere. Perhaps it still needed him even though he already healed it. After all, whatever situation was around before it ended up in the alleyway was still there. It was still alone. Or, at least, it would be alone if it left.
And Mike would be sitting alone on his couch while spending his evening concocting ideas for a second job to fill the void. Maybe if Mike was completely honest he would admit that he was just as alone. Especially with the very real possibility that Freddy's was being shut down for good. After so long of living night to night, something had changed today, and he knew it even though he hadn't seen the effects of it long.
Mike Schmidt, a man who had to scour the trash to find the equivalent to a paycheck, who was currently awake in the odd hours of the morning holding a haunted animatronic, had never felt better.
End