Pain.

An ear-piercing shriek sounding in the darkness.

A warm, wet sensation blooming on his right arm.

A sudden increase in velocity, various instances of momentum gained and lost as he tumbled in the dark abyss.

All throughout, he felt a familiar presence nearby.

More pain, this time crashing over his body in waves, lingering and growing stronger as his awareness spread to each of his limbs.

Mike Schmidt slowly opened his eyes as they adjusted to the darkness. This darkness was different from the place he'd been before, however, it was less intense and more...familiar. Despite knowing where he was, as his bedroom slowly came into focus and he became aware of the soft mattress beneath him, he couldn't help but feel utterly perplexed.

I'm...alive? Mike thought, sluggishly, as a dull ache settled in above his temple.

Had it all been a terrible dream...? Had he never actually gone in for his shift that night after all...?

Though, that wouldn't explain the pain he was feeling all over his body, most notably in his right arm and head. It also didn't explain the state of his room, which looked as if it had been ransacked by burglars. Every drawer of his dresser had been pulled open, the contents lying scattered across the carpeted floor, several articles of clothing were torn to shreds, and most notably, his bed-sheets were stained with streaks of a reddish-brown liquid in several places.

Instinctively, Mike's hand found its way to rest on his arm, finding it to be wrapped and bound by what looked to be an old, white T-shirt of his...

Suddenly, memories of terror and pain came rushing back, and Mike knew that it had not been a dream. The wound on his arm had been left by Chica's wing, and the wound on his head...

Mike moved his hand to touch the side of his head, which he realized was bound similarly to his arm, before pulling it back almost immediately as he winced in pain. That was the one Freddy had given him, just before he lost consciousness.

But again, that didn't explain why he was currently sitting in his room, on his bed...alive.

With some difficulty, Mike poured himself out of his bed, sucking air through his teeth and cringing in pain as he put weight on his right leg. Stumbling clumsily and almost tripping several times on the debris littering the ground, he slowly made his way to his bedroom door.

Pulling the door open only slightly, careful to make as little sound as possible, Mike immediately noticed a pungent odor hanging in the air. It smelled like something was...burning?

Even more confused now than he was before, and slightly more concerned, he stepped out of his room and began making his way down the hall.

"...bloody...blasted thing..."

Mike heard an eerily familiar voice grumble in the distance, as if its owner were conversing with himself, as he continued to creep down the hallway.

A loud banging suddenly began to emanate from nearby, echoing through the otherwise silent apartment, causing Mike to freeze in his tracks.

Soon, the banging subsided, replaced by a frustrated string of curses that were barely audible. He definitely recognized that voice.

Steeling himself, Mike turned the corner from the hallway, stepping into the kitchen and coming to an abrupt halt as he took a moment to comprehend the scene laid out before him.

Standing in his kitchen, turned away from him and facing the opposite counter, was Foxy the Pirate, who had clearly been responsible for the racket Mike had just heard as he resumed banging something against the counter-top.

It was most certainly an unusual and somewhat jarring sight to behold, but Mike didn't get much chance to reflect upon the uncanny scenario as the ultimate meaning of it spread throughout his mind like a warm breeze.

Foxy had saved his life.

Foxy had somehow managed to rescue him from the clutches of certain death, bring him home and tend to his injuries.

He had doubted the animatronic... had treated him more as a contingency than a friend, and yet here he stood. He couldn't help but feel undeserving of what Foxy had done for him, especially as he tried and failed to imagine how the pirate had even pulled it all off.

Consumed by an overwhelming feeling of gratitude, Mike suddenly found himself standing behind Foxy, and without a moment's hesitation, wrapped his arms around the animatronic's torso and rested his fore-head against his red-furred back.

Foxy jolted slightly in surprise as he looked down and noticed the two arms wrapped around his mid-section.

The two were silent for a moment, each unsure of what to say, before Mike broke the silence.

"...thank you..." Mike said in a hoarse voice, suddenly aware of how raw his throat was, no doubt from screaming his lungs out while in the clutches of his would-be murderer only a few short hours ago.

"Ah, erm...don' mention it, lad..." Foxy sputtered awkwardly, a portion of his mind distracted by the embrace...how many years had it been since he'd experienced such a simple form of affection as a hug...? Clearly, it had been long enough that he'd forgotten how to react.

"'sides, I tol' ye I'd keep ye safe from ol' Fazbear, didn' I?" Foxy said with false bravado, attempting to lighten the mood and dispel the awkwardness he felt.

It was true, the pirate had kept his promise, and Mike only felt more guilt for being reminded. Before he knew it, he could feel his throat tightening and his eyes starting to burn.

Shit, shit, shit, think of something else, Mike pleaded with himself in a desperate attempt to quell the sob threatening to bubble up out of his throat. The absolute last thing he wanted that morning was to feel any weaker than Freddy had already made him feel.

It was only then that he noticed the burning smell that had initially drawn his attention to the kitchen. Turning his head to face the stove, he saw a pan resting upon it, with what looked like eggs- shells and all- bubbling away inside. They definitely looked over-cooked, but they weren't burning...

As his eyes scanned the kitchen counter-tops, Mike observed what looked like the remains of a great battle waged in his kitchen. Pots, pans, utensils, wrappers and eggshells littered the counters...and the floor.

Finally, leaning around Foxy to get a better look at the remaining kitchen space, he saw the culprit. Dented and resting on its side, with Foxy's hooked hand stuck inside it was the toaster, two pieces of completely blackened bread inside.

It was the funniest god damned thing Mike had ever seen.

What started as a low rumble in his chest grew into a breathy chuckle as his throat relaxed, then quickly escalated into a bout of raucous laughter that shook his entire body and made his eyes water.

"Is that- for me?" Mike managed breathlessly between fits of laughter. He was laughing so hard that each breath stung at his chest.

"Aye!" Foxy said with apparent relish, "I figured ye be needin' somethin' ta' help regain yer strength, n'all."

"I didn't- I didn't know you could cook!" Mike said, having calmed somewhat but still chuckling and smiling ear to ear.

"Aye, tha' lass, err, Chica, taugh' me a few things..." Foxy said, his voice trailing off.

Mike hadn't really thought about it before, but now that he did, he realized that Foxy had essentially betrayed his only friends to save his life.

"No good?" Foxy asked with a sigh, noticing the frown on Mike's face.

Mike shook his head vigorously, derailing the depressing train of thought.

"No, no! It's perfect. I really appreciate it, Foxy," Mike said with a reassuring smile. It wasn't perfect, of course, but the very last thing he wanted to do was to throw the incredibly kind gesture back in the fox's face by claiming otherwise.

After helping Foxy extricate his hook from the toaster, Mike ducked around him to grab a plate, plopping onto it the two pieces of charcoal that were once slices of bread before dumping the rubbery egg mixture on top as well.

Sitting down at his small table, Mike stared down at his meal as Foxy stood beside him, watching expectantly with a look of apprehension. The thought of eating what lie on the plate before him was less than appealing, but he figured eating enough of it to be convincing was the very least he could do to begin repaying his debt to the fox.

He would just have to eat his 'eggshell surprise' very, very carefully...


Mike was jolted awake by a vibrating sensation at his hip. Blinking drowsily, chasing sleep away as he took in his surroundings, he saw that Foxy was still seated beside him on the couch, still watching television.

Wondering how long he'd been out for, Mike reached into his pants pocket and dug out his phone, flipping it open and jabbing the green button before bringing it up against his ear.

"Hello?" Mike answered, groggily.

"M-Michael! This is Michael Schmidt, correct?" the voice on the other end of the phone replied, far too loudly and enthusiastically for Mike's half-awake state.

"...yes?" Mike confirmed, somewhat perplexed, his awkward tone drawing Foxy's attention to the call as he turned away from the television to watch Mike instead. Noticing this, Mike muted the television and put the phone on speaker so Foxy could hear, putting his finger to his lips to remind the pirate to be silent.

"Oh! Oh, thank Go- I mean, ah. Good afternoon, Mr. Schmidt...how are you doing?" asked the clearly frazzled voice that Mike finally realized belonged to his boss, Mr. Anders.

Afternoon? Mike thought as he glanced at the clock above his television and noticed it was 1:24 PM.

Mike imagined what must have transpired at Freddy's in the past six hours or so. The place would have most likely been left an absolute mess, though he had yet to ask Foxy about what exactly had happened after he'd been knocked out, he did know that he must have been bleeding enough to create quite a grisly scene for the day staff to find.

Oh. They thought I was dead. Mike realized, somewhat irritated but not entirely surprised.

"...Michael?"

"Oh, ah, yes. Sorry. I'm fine..." Mike answered reflexively without thinking before starting again, "...uh, actually... well, I guess you could say I've been...better."

There was no response from Mr. Anders, who was clearly waiting to see what Mike would say next.

"There was an...'incident', last night, you see," Mike continued, attempting to gauge his boss' reaction before continuing.

"I see. That is most unfortunate, are you alright?" Mr. Anders asked innocently.

"Yes, unfortunate," Mike huffed, attempting to keep the emotion out of his voice, "I was injured on-the-job...there weren't any hospital bills but I am in a considerable amount of pain at the moment..." Mike allowed his voice to trail off for emphasis. He knew that because of the non-disclosure agreement he had signed when he took the job, making any threats to go to the authorities or hire a lawyer would be completely meaningless, so he decided to try a different approach.

Mr. Anders was silent as he considered Mike's words carefully. On the one hand, he could tell that he was being played...on the other hand, he noticed that Mike hadn't outright said what had happened or accused him of anything. As much as he hated being in the disadvantaged position, he had to admit, having a night guard who could not only survive an entire week and who knew how to keep his mouth shut was invaluable.

"I'm very sorry to hear that, Michael. Why don't you take the night off and get some rest. We wouldn't want you over-exerting yourself," Mr. Anders suggested, hoping Mike would recognize the extremely uncommon offer for what it was- a bribe.

Mike remained silent.

"...a paid night off," Mr. Anders grumbled, sounding as if the words had physically hurt him on their way past his lips.

"Yeah, I suppose that would help a bit," Mike answered with a sneer on his face as he looked over at Foxy who had been listening closely the entire phone call and was wearing an expression of disbelief.

"Well, there you have it. We'll see you Sunday evening, then. Take care, Michael," Mr. Anders said, ending the call.

Mike simply glanced at Foxy with a satisfied look on his face as he held the phone out in front of him.

"Not bad, eh?"

"Are ye crazy, lad? Have ye lost yer marbles?" Foxy said exasperatedly, gesturing at Mike with his hook.

"Huh?" Mike asked, confused. In his opinion, he'd handled that call from his boss pretty well. He'd even gotten a night off! A paid night off!

"Ye can't go back there! Have ye got a death wish? Freddy'll tear ye limb from limb fer wha' ye-...we, did las' nigh'! I cannae believe I'm even havin' ta explain this to ye!" Foxy exclaimed.

Mike blinked a few times, somewhat taken aback by the animatronic's outburst. He'd gotten so used to throwing himself headfirst into danger night after night that it had practically become part of his routine after just one week, albeit an excruciatingly long and exhausting one.

"So, what, you're suggesting that I just never go back?" Mike asked the pirate, secretly hoping he would have a better idea, "and where, then, would that leave you?"

"Ye can jus' take me back an' leave, then" Foxy said with an air of finality.

"No, I'm not doing that," Mike responded immediately with equal resolve.

"Mike...ye can't go back...he'll kill ye, I swear ta' Neptune he'll drag ye under firs' chance he gets," Foxy said, somberly.

Deciding to try a different approach, Mike changed the subject.

"You know, last night wasn't the first time Freddy came to 'visit' me in the office," Mike said, not surprised by the look of shock and confusion dawning on Foxy's face.

"Two nights ago, right after we got back to the restaurant, it was like... he was waiting for me," Mike said with a shudder as he looked back on the moment he realized it wasn't Foxy in the office with him after all.

"I don' understand," Foxy muttered, "why didn' he kill ye when he had the chance, only ta come fer ye the following night?"

"Trust me, I was as confused as you are, but in retrospect, he was obviously just trying to mess with my head...and he succeeded," Mike said. He decided to refrain from telling Foxy about Freddy's accusations of him using the pirate as a shield- a tool. There was no sense in opening that can of worms again when they had obviously moved beyond it.

"Foxy...I know I'm dealing with forces outside the realm of my control in this situation. I've been vaguely aware of that fact from the moment you shoved me in that burlap sack..." Mike said, causing Foxy to wince guiltily and flash a sheepish smile.

"...but I need to know what I'm dealing with, here. Whether I go back to Freddy's or not, after everything I've been through, I feel like I deserve a few answers," Mike concluded, trying to keep the hesitation he felt out of his voice.

Foxy was silent as he stared at the floor in front of him. Minutes passed, and still Foxy said nothing. Just as Mike was about to relent, however, Foxy surprised him by speaking.

"Alrigh'," he said, simply. "I'll tell ye wha' I can. Dunno wha' good it'll do ye."

Mike had so many questions begging, pleading to be asked that it was impossible to choose just one. On top of that, he didn't want to ask anything that would upset the fox, at least not right off the bat. He wasn't going to blow what might be his only chance to learn the true nature of the forces he was tangling with.

However, before Mike could settle on his first question, Foxy spoke once more.

"I s'pose ye be wantin' to know how this happened," Foxy said, gesturing vaguely at himself.

"...what do you mean?" Mike asked, not entirely sure if Foxy meant his body's current state of disrepair or something else entirely...though he had a sinking feeling it was the latter.

"I wasn' always like this... none o' us were," Foxy said gloomily, hoping Mike would understand him so he wouldn't have to spell it out- wouldn't have to relive those horrible memories.

Mike said nothing, however, clearly not seeing the larger picture.

"I used ta' be like ye...ye know...human."

Mike gaped at the animatronic, dumbfounded and at a complete loss for words. Surging up off of the couch so quickly he let loose an involuntary curse as a searing pain shot up his leg as he began to pace slowly around the room, running his hands through his hair.

This was a lot to take in.

Ever since he was a kid, urban legends involving the sordid history of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza were commonly told among friends looking to scare the most impressionable members of their social circles. Ever since those five kids had gone missing at one of the original locations back in the 80's, and were later presumed dead...

Mike froze in his tracks and turned to face Foxy, who was still seated on the couch, watching the man pace nervously.

No...that's...that's ridiculous. It's not possible, Mike thought to himself.

Was it really, though? Given all that he'd seen, all that he'd experienced the past five nights at Freddy's...

Mike eased himself back onto the couch, shaking slightly.

"Tell me what happened."


Mike listened in shocked silence as Foxy spoke. A week ago, he would have considered himself insane for giving even a second thought to what he was hearing. It sounded too much like the myths he'd heard on the noisy playgrounds or in the dark basements of his youth...but the way Foxy told it was unlike anything he'd ever heard. His jaw fell open as the pirate described memories of confusion, panic, terror and horrible pain. His hand reflexively clutched at his chest as Foxy was forced to relive the memory of his slow, painful death. The muscles in his face were taught and tense, his eyes burning and his stomach rolling over itself and twisting into knots as the animatronic described his final moments as a human being- a child, barely old enough to comprehend the twisted fate that had befallen him.

Mike hadn't even noticed that Foxy had finished speaking until the deafening silence between them began to echo painfully in his ears.

"You don't...you don't remember anything else...? Anything...before that?" Mike asked at last, dreading the answer he knew was coming.

Foxy shook his head. "Bits an' pieces but...no' really, no."

"And after...?"

"It be...clouded. Don' remember wha' happened 'xactly...mos'ly jus' remember feelin' angry...and alone...all the time. We all did."

The others...Mike thought to himself as he realized...they'd faced a similar fate. Contrary to everything he wanted to feel towards the other animatronics for what they had put him through, he couldn't help but feel sorry for them. From what little Foxy had been able to tell him, they were complete strangers to one another prior to their tragic deaths, and, being children, the fact that others like them had suffered a similar fate would have been little to no consolation at such a young age. They would have been like islands separated from one another by miles of ocean stretching in every direction, unable to cross the vast distances to console one another. They were just kids, there was no way they had the mental or emotional capacity to deal with what had happened to them. Mike wasn't sure if he himself would have reacted any differently than they had, were he in their position all those years ago...

"Do ye...do ye remember anythin' from when ye were a wee lad?" Foxy asked somberly.

"...bits and pieces," Mike said, realizing that he was in the same boat as Foxy in that regard. Try as he might, he really couldn't remember much from his childhood aside from brief flashes of specific memories, and even those it was as if he was watching from an outsider's perspective...it had simply been too long.

However, as he looked at the animatronic seated before him, one of those very specific memories triggered feelings of familiarity, and echoes of the déjà vu he had felt a few nights ago...

"...I do remember you, though," Mike said, a hint of a smile tugging the corners of his lips.

"...wha'?" Foxy asked, perplexed.

"Yeah...I didn't realize it at the time...but thinking about it now, the other night, when I stepped on that nail and you wrapped my toe...it felt like I'd been in that exact situation before."

"Whaddya' mean, lad?" Foxy said, starting to grow impatient.

"I've lived in this town my whole life. Ask any kid who grew up here if they've ever gone to Freddy's and they'll look at you like you're nuts. Of course they did. You'd be hard-pressed to find someone who hadn't gone at least once," Mike stated matter-of-factually.

"One of the earliest memories I have from my childhood is of going to Freddy's for a 'friend's' birthday party. I don't think we were actually friends, but our parents were. I didn't hang out with the other kids much, in fact, I'm pretty sure most of them hated me. One of the only things that really stuck out about that day was that I got hurt- I think one of my 'friends' pushed me because I was blocking his view of...well...your show, actually," Mike recalled as Foxy listened intently.

"...and then you showed up," Mike said with a small smile.

"I'd skinned my knees pretty badly when I fell, and you must've noticed because you were there in a flash, telling me that I'd be fine and that you'd get me 'all fixed up in no time'," Mike said, his smile growing broader as he reminisced.

"You helped me up and walked me over to one of the staff, who took me to find my mom and got me patched up. I remember telling my mom when we were leaving what had happened. I don't think she believed me, but I told her that you were one of the nicest people I'd ever met," Mike said, his smile now plastered on his face as he finished his story. It was a quaint memory, but he looked back on it fondly, especially now that he remembered it more clearly since having met Foxy once again.

Foxy...who was now looking at Mike like he was seeing him for the first time, his eyes reduced to slits. His jaw moved up and down slightly, as if he was trying with all his might to think of what to say next.

And then Mike heard it.

It was barely audible at first, but it grew steadily in volume until he could clearly hear the crackling sound of static emanating from Foxy's mouth. It was like he had attempted to tune into a radio frequency with no reception.

"H-hey, you alright?" Mike asked, concerned. Now would not be the best time to have the animatronic start 'malfunctioning' as he sat inches away from him on the couch.

But then he noticed Foxy's slumped and sagging shoulders, his arms hanging limply at his sides as he stared down at the couch cushions dejectedly. Mike had referred to him as a person, something Foxy realized he had never been called in his entire life- not a thing, not a robot, but a person- and for some reason, that had been the final crack that broke the dam.

"A-...are you...crying?"

The static only grew louder as if to confirm Mike's suspicions.

The 7-foot tall animatronic-pirate-fox sitting on his couch was crying.

"S-stop," Mike said as he noticed his own throat start to tighten.

"If you c-cry, then I'm gonna cry," Mike choked out as his eyes started to burn.

"...and we'll just be two of the most pathetic pirates there ever were," Mike said, half-chuckling, half-sobbing as the tears he could no longer hold back started to stream down his face.

Foxy only 'cried' harder at that, and Mike couldn't take it anymore. Despite everything the animatronics had put him through, he'd never felt so sorry for anyone than he did for the fox sitting before him. He shifted himself so that he was seated directly beside Foxy, wrapping his arms around the animatronic's torso and resting his head on his chest. He wasn't sure if his gesture would be of any comfort to the pirate, but it was the only thing he could think to do.

The two stayed like that for a while, long after the tears had subsided, each finding comfort in the closeness of another who truly understood just how screwed up everything was.

"M-mike...m'so sorry, lad," Foxy spoke at last.

"For what?" Mike asked, leaning back from the fox's side to look him in the eye.

"Fer everythin'. Do ye...do ye think any of the others were..." Foxy said, his voice trailing off as if he were physically unable to finish his question.

Mike understood immediately what he was asking, however. Foxy wanted to know if any of the other night guards had once been kids who had come to see him at Freddy's, just like Mike had.

"...I don't know," Mike answered honestly, "...but if any of them were close to my age, then...probably."

Foxy's face fell, surprising Mike that he could manage to look even sadder than he already did, as he dragged his metallic legs up onto the couch, pulling them up to his chest and burying his face against them.

"...I need ta' be alone fer a bit," Foxy said, his voice somewhat muffled as it filtered out through the limbs he had drawn in tight in an obvious attempt to comfort himself.

Mike nodded in understanding, rising from the couch and walking towards his bedroom.

"I'll be right in here, if you need me," he said, not surprised when the fox said nothing in return.

Closing his bedroom door quietly, Mike carefully picked his way through the debris on the floor and eased himself into his bed. His leg and arm were still terribly sore, and as he laid in the dark, silent room he became aware once more of the throbbing pain in his temple from where Freddy had struck him.

Mike closed his eyes as he attempted to force himself to fall asleep, not wanting to dwell any longer on the emotionally draining events of the day.

Well, at least I've got the night off, he thought, as he finally succumbed to sleep.


[A/N]: I did warn you that there would be feels. If no feels were felt, you will receive your refund in approximately 7²² – 10²² business days. Thanks for reading. (Also, wow, views have almost doubled since the posting of the previous chapter, bringing us well over 5k. I know you guys are out there reading this, so leave a review already!) ~Cap