Words in Chapter: 2209
Written: March 20, 2015
Current Characters: Mike, Jeremy, Goldie, Mangle, Freddy, Foxy, Chica, Bonnie, ?
Warnings: Humanized. Stalking.
AN: I just have to say a huge thank you to every one of you who reviewed on my story. It's really touching to me that you'll take the time and review on my story. It was something I started as just a challenge to see how well I could do with updating daily, and all of you who have reviewed have played a big part in helping me continue that. So thank you! You're all so sweet to me :)


She couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned beneath the warm and inviting covers feeling hot and sticky. She felt like she was going to be sick and yet no bile rose in her throat. That in of itself was strange, for she'd been feeling positively horrible for the past few days. It was dragging her from those wonderful hours in which the mind was allowed to shut down long enough to recuperate from the day's stresses.

It wouldn't be long before she'd end up running for the bathroom to throw up. It had been this way for at least a week now, and she'd forgotten how difficult it was to keep things from her brother. He slept soundly, but it didn't take much to wake him in the mornings if she made noise near his room. And the bathroom she used was, unfortunately, next to his bedroom. She'd considered using a different one, but that would raise just as much suspicion since she was a creature of habit. He'd notice that something was up.

She'd been back too long, a few weeks now, for her to suddenly switch up her behavior. He'd start asking questions about how much she'd changed, about where she'd been so he could know why she was acting so differently now than she had before. He used to tease her about how she refused to use the upstairs bathroom because the downstairs one was 'hers.'

The covers were flung off finally as she couldn't take it anymore. She padded down the hall, passed Freddy's slightly open bedroom door, and slipped into the bathroom to sit on the icy tiles. She let her head rest against the wall. Her stomach was starting to turn and she didn't feel like waking her brother by sprinting down the hall when her body chose to revolt. Whatever she'd picked up was nasty and she couldn't wait until it passed so she could get on with her life without feeling so awful every morning.

She was sent retching to the toilet. Her sounds masked the approaching footsteps, so she jumped when warm hands brushed her neck. Her hair was pulled back for her as she got sick. When she was finished she leaned back, turning her head just enough to catch a glimpse of his worried face.

"M-morning," she croaked. Freddy reached around her to the sink and poured her a glass of water. She sipped it, relishing the way it soothed the screaming burn. He helped her back up to her feet and she leaned against him feeling weak. "I woke you."

"I was already waking up."

"I must have caught something at the restaurant…"

"How long have you been sick?" he asked, guiding her out of the bathroom. He took her into the living room and she curled up on the couch. She shrugged a little. "Gold, tell me."

"Not too long… A few days, a week or so at most…" she responded quietly. He touched her forehead to see if she was running a temperature. She was a little warm, maybe, but she wasn't running a fever.

"You should stay home. If you have caught a cold or something we don't want it spreading. Do you want me to stay with you?" he asked.

She did consider begging him to stay, since his house was large and empty without him in it with her, but she didn't think the restaurant could really spare him. He was needed there, and asking him to stay home when he was perfectly healthy was like asking her to go without the use of an arm for a day. He loved the business more than she could ever remember seeing him love anything else.

She shook her head slowly. He brushed her hair back gently and she pressed into the touch, her eyes sliding closed.

"I'll bring something home for you. Rest for now, and if can try to eat something. If you need anything, please do call me. I'll come right home."

"Yes, brother. Now go get ready for work," she said. He gave her a little worried smile and seemed reluctant to leave her side, but she just smiled at him and waved for him to go until he headed down the hall back toward his room.

She curled into the cushions more, willing her stomach to stop protesting. She was tired and felt awful and she didn't want to be forced to continue to wear a fake smile when she was miserable. She didn't want to worry Freddy, he had enough stress as it is, but it wasn't easy to hide how terrible this was. She didn't exactly feel like she'd caught the flu or anything of the sort…

Freddy returned a few minutes later wearing his black uniform. He stopped at the end of the couch, judging whether or not leaving her alone for the day was even an option.

Her phone started to buzz on the table and he went to fetch it for her. She chewed her lip nervously, hoping he wouldn't read the texts. He didn't. He simply handed it over to her, lifting an eyebrow at her look of anxiety. She practically ripped it from his hands. It continued to buzz.

"Is everything alright?" He asked. She smiled.

"Everything's fine. You're going to be late for work if you don't leave soon."

"I could-"

"Go on, Freddy," she said. She nodded her head toward the door and with a sigh he headed toward it. She waited until she heard the door close to even unlock her phone.

She scrolled through the messages, used to their contents, until she came to the last one which made her breath catch.

'Who is he? Your boyfriend? Your lover? He's keeping you from me.'

She wanted to turn her phone off, but worried he'd show up in person. She pulled her knees up to her chest. She closed her eyes, unwilling to look at the glowing screen. Another message came in and she refused to look at it, already knowing what it would hold.


Mike was pounced on by Chica when he reached work. She crushed the air from his lungs in a tight hug. He laughed a little, a strained but content sound, and gently tried to pry her off.

"N-nice to s-see you, C-Chica!" he gasped. She pulled back enough to smile widely at him, flashing her pearly whites. He returned the look, sucking in grateful gasps of air, though he didn't understand why she seemed so happy.

The others watched on from behind her, and they seemed amused to be witnessing the scene. Bonnie walked over and gently pulled her back to let Mike have room to breathe. She bounced a little on feet. She left Mike alone for a moment to cling to Foxy, stopping him front properly tugging on those thick, black heeled boots he wore throughout the day. It looked like this had been going on for a while, for Foxy grumbled at her and tried to reach around her to finish getting the boots on.

"I get it Chica," he growled, "I know you're happy but please get off."

"I'd almost forgotten what it was like spending time with her!" Chica cried, flopping onto the bench beside him. She picked up his hat, which seemed to irritate him almost as much as hanging off him, but he didn't stop her. "I'd missed her so much! Thank you, Mike, for letting us see her! You two are such wonderful people, why do you hide?"

Foxy didn't answer. He stood to adjust his coat. Chica had to stand on her tiptoes to be able to reach up even enough to awkwardly place his hat on his head. She poked at it until it was settled and she could see his eyes again. He looked tired.

"Foxy?" Mike called. The man looked over. "Do you want to do something after work some time?"

"I'm busy," Foxy replied immediately. His response was a little disappointing, but Mike just shrugged. He wasn't going to try to force him to do something he didn't want to. There would always be another chance to ask him to hang out later.

It was then that Freddy arrived, joining them in the change room. He barely greeted them, simply going to his own locker to get his costume. The others stared at him, confused and maybe a little worried. Bonnie was the one to attempt to approach him while the others waited, watching and wondering.

"Hey, boss… Something wrong?" he asked. Freddy glanced at him then sighed.

"I don't think many of you would really care if I told you."

"Of course we'll care, Freddy, what is it?" Chica questioned. She looked to the others who nodded.

"Goldie's sick."

"It's nothing bad, is it? She'll be alright?" Foxy asked. Everyone else in the room turned to stare at him until his face went red and he glared at them angrily. "We fight, yes, but I'm not heartless. Will she be alright or not Fazbear?"

"I think she'll be fine. But I'm taking her to the doctor's tomorrow just in case, which means I won't be at work in the morning. I'm hoping I can trust you all not to burn the place down?"

"Let us know how see is, Freddy!" Chica said. She fastened her bib into place then pulled Bonnie out into the hall to get to their places for open hours. The others followed her example and parted ways.

It was turning out to be a slow day. A few large groups came and went, but most of those who visited the restaurant were groups of two or three trickling in every once in a while. Mike was given a table of one to tend to around four in the afternoon, and he led the man to a table closer to the Pirate's Cove as the gentleman requested. He went through the welcoming speech in a falsely cheerful tone to which the man hummed and asked for some time to choose something from the menu and a mug of black coffee.

Mike left him alone, though he kept an eye on the man. It wasn't strange to see single adults come in, though usually it was young women who wanted to get a better look at one of the male entertainers. It was just that the man seemed sort of vaguely familiar, as if Mike had seen the guy in passing before. He shrugged it off and went about his duties tending to the few other tables he had.

When he went back to the man's table, Foxy was just climbing the steps to his stage with a bouncing Bonnie at his heels. The man's dark eyes followed Foxy's movements, and with an amused expression he turned to Mike without looking away from the entertainer.

"What's his name?" he asked.

"The performer? Which one?"

"The one dressed like a pirate."

"Foxy."

The man laughed, "Is that his real name? Or simply a stage name he prefers to use?"

"Why not both?" Mike replied. The man turned in his seat to get a better look at Mike's face. The customer's black hair hid most of his features, falling down around his face in slight waves, but Mike could see enough to draw a few conclusions. The man was a little younger than he expected, though it looked like he was older than any of the entertainers. His was the kind of face you'd remember, since he had a boyish look contradicted by the strong jaw and wide shoulders.

"Are you friends with this… Foxy?" the man asked slowly, those sharp predatory eyes finally moving from his face back up to the pirate. He didn't give the server a chance to answer. "Do you think it would be possible for you to ask him, once he's finished his delightful little song and show, to come visit my table? I'll tip you both generously."

"I'll… see what I can do," he said. He left to stand at the edge of the stage as he listened to the two on stage 'argued' over whether or not stealing was right or wrong. A few children were sitting on the floor in front of the stage listening and giggling at their little skit. He looked up and saw Foxy looking past Bonnie to see what he wanted. He motioned for Foxy to join him to which the entertainer nodded.

Shortly after, he was joined by the redhead.

"What is it?"

"You have a fan," Mike said. "The man over there wants to talk to you."

"The one with the camera?" Foxy asked. Mike turned and found the man watching them with a camera in his hands. A flash went off, and the man tucked the device back into his jacket pocket. He looked away from them, slipping from his mug of coffee. It made the server more than a little nervous about what the man could possibly want with his friend, but he didn't stop him from walking over to the table. He just watched.

The man left about ten minutes later, his hand pressed against the pocket that held the camera.