A/N: Hi guys, loooong time no see.

Where do I start? Well, first off I should probably start with an apology. Sorry it took so long to get this chapter out. I had an extreme case of writers block. That in itself isn't that bad, but then a CLOSE friend that I have/had chose to just cut ties with me. You add the fact that I just found out that some of my chronic stuff I suffer is caused by multitude of food allergies, and my dog almost died in my arms...

This all happened in the past few months.

So I took this new year rather seriously and tried to figure things out. This year is the start of my new life, and its going to be great.

What's better than to post a chapter on my B-Day? well, the day after XD But seriously I missed this place.

Now that I've got that off my chest. I can say that this chapter may have been influence slightly by the last few months. I couldn't really help it. I'll try and start updating my stories soon-ish.

There is some underage drinking in this chapter. Don't know if that offends people, but thought I'd say that. (In all honesty though, who hasn't had a drink when their 20?)

Enjoy!

His mother had always told him there was a time and place for everything, and that everything happened for a reason.

Mike was beginning to doubt that.

So there they were, him and the animatronics once again, acting so cautious towards each other that the tension as palpable.

It had been a week since he had gotten shot and stuck in his impromptu bedrest. In that time he had seen the animatronics only once besides now. Bonnie had brought in Alisha to see him, choosing to stay in the doorway while Alisha ran up to Mike, hugging the life out of him. Mike had laughed when she said that she had thought he was going to die, telling her that he couldn't leave behind an angel like her. He made a comment on her washed hair and how pretty she looked. All the while he watched Bonnie out of the corner of his eye.

The purple-furred animatronic looked… sad, resigned. As if he knew that whatever trust that Mike had in them was cracking like ice in the spring. He smiled weakly when Alisha called him over, turning her down and choosing to watch their interaction from where he was instead.

For Mike, it wasn't that he didn't want to trust them. He just couldn't. He wasn't mad at them and he didn't hate them, but whatever trust had started building between them seemed to have vanished into thin air.

He wished that they had at least told him, they were the cause of his freakishly fast healing. Sure it would have hurt, but it was better than finding out this way. It felt like he couldn't trust them. If they wouldn't even tell him about this – what else were they keeping from him? What secrets were they hiding?

So here they were… back to square one.

Alisha seemed oblivious to the unease saturating the room as she happily jumped up onto the edge of the bed, holding out a sheet of paper with a shaky alphabet on it. "Sarah's helping me learn," She said.

"That's great," Mike said. He looked at it and snuck a glance up towards the animatronics near the wall, wondering why they had all decided to show up.

Alisha nodded and examined her own work. "Sarah said I'm doing a, uh, a good job." She giggled and leaned in to whisper: "She said I'm doing better than Bunny."

Mike smiled slightly and shifted Alisha a bit so she wasn't sitting partially on him. "Well, you are pretty smart aren't you?"

Even though Freddy had managed to mostly heal the bullet wound on his calf, the one on his thigh was far from it. The wound hurt terribly and if he tried to move his leg at all it would erupt in pain. Sarah was worried that it would get infected and was constantly clean it, but it seemed to only aggravate his wound until the flesh was red and swollen.

One of the animatronics could have probably had it healed up in hours, but Mike didn't want that. As stupid as it sounded, he would rather be stuck in a bed for weeks than have super healing.

The only sound in the room for a moment was that of Alisha flipping her paper over and over before Foxy coughed lightly.

"So lad… how's ya' leg been?"

Mike shrugged. He pushed the blanket down showing his wrapped leg. "It's doing pretty good." It felt like he needed to add more, but he chose not to. He gently pulled the blanket back up and sat back.

"What does Sarah think about your wounds?" Chika asked before the silence could settle back down.

"The bullet wound that Freddy… healed is fine, but the other one is the one she's most worried about. Mostly she's worried that it might get infected." Mike explained. Freddy stiffened slightly at his name, but otherwise remained staring at the wall.

Chika nodded politely, but with no follow-up question the room went quiet again. Bonnie and Freddy seemed to have each found a separate wall to stare at while Foxy and Chika kept glancing around as if they were trying to think of something to say that would make the whole get-together less awkward.

Mike was surprised at the small sliver of satisfaction he felt watching them. Watched them struggle to talk to him, to look him in his eyes. He felt his gaze harden. Why shouldn't he feel satisfied? After everything that they had done to him it was only fair.

With this new mindset his arms subconsciously crossed and he pointed looked at Freddy.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He saw Freddy briefly look at him out of the corner of his eye, but the bear returned his gaze to the wall. "Tell you what?"

"You know what I'm talking about," Mike snorted. "About you guys being the reason I was healing?"

Foxy's ears flattened. "Now Mikey, I know ya'r not in the believin' mood, but ya' gotta' believe me that I didn't know."

"Foxy's right," Chika said. "None of us knew. I didn't, Bonnie didn't, Freddy…" She trailed off as Freddy shook his head as she pointed to him. Her stare turned from incredulous to murderous in an instant. "You knew?!"

"Knew, known, have known," Freddy said gesturing to the air. He continued to stare at the wall even though everyone was looking at him. "I noticed it when the scratches Mangle gave you healed."

"How could you keep something like that from us?" Chika demanded.

Freddy shook his head and muttered something under his breath. Mike couldn't hear what he said, but apparently Chika could because her eyes narrowed. "If you think that's a valid excuse then your wiring is messed up. We all know that's not an excuse."

"How could I not keep that from you guys?" Freddy snapped, finally taking his gaze off the wall. He looked upset, his blue eyes filled with frustration as he turned to observe them all. "You think I wanted to keep this from you guys? That I wanted to keep this from you?" He turned to look at Mike.

Mike shook his head and a hand unconsciously went up to run through his black hair. "At this point I don't know anything." He said sadly.

Freddy took a step forward. "I didn't want to stay quiet, but if I told you Mike – what do you think your reaction would be?" The animatronic paused and Bonnie suddenly spoke up from the side.

"The same as it is right now."

Everyone's gaze turned towards the purple-furred animatronic and Bonnie hunched over slightly. "I knew too," He said dejectedly.

"You?" Chika said. "Wha… Since when?!"

"Back at the pizzeria," Bonnie said. He turned to look at the human. "Even back then Mike when you would get a cut or a bruise I noticed that they looked better if you stayed near any of us. You weren't healing as fast as you are now, but I noticed."

The shock Mike felt at first Freddy then at Bonnie morphed into anger. He bit back a snarl that was bubbling in his throat and crossed his arms again.

He didn't know why, but it felt like he had just been sucker punched. Ever since he had stayed with the gang he had always got along with Bonnie just slightly better than the rest of them. Whether it was because of his sarcastic nature, or the care he showed for Alisha he didn't know. But Bonnie had been easier to deal with. He had never tried to force him to be friends or even acted like he wanted it which made their budding friendship feel more real. Finding out that Bonnie had known about his healing for so long and hadn't told him hurt more than he would ever let them know.

"Why would you keep that from all of us?" Chika said. She appeared upset as she looked between Bonnie and Freddy.

Bonnie shrugged. He looked absolutely miserable staring at the ground between his feet. "I don't know."

His expression for some reason infuriated Mike and he huffed. "Is that the reason why you stayed that night?" Mike was thinking back to the night when Mangle's cuts had healed. Only now did he realize that it was because of Bonnie that had happened.

"Partly," Bonnie said. He gazed at Mike. "But it wasn't the main reason. I meant everything I said that night."

"Yeah right," Mike rolled his eyes. Bonnie jerked slightly at the amount of venom in his voice. Alisha was watching the whole thing with wide eyes. "For all I know that whole spiel you gave me could have been fake."

"It wasn't," Bonnie said quietly. The miserable look overcame him again and it just enraged Mike more.

"And why should I trust you? You probably didn't mean any of it. You were just probably thinking about healing your 'Oh so precious night guard'!"

"Hey," Chika said softly interrupting them. She uneasily shifted slightly. "I don't know what happened, but I don't think Bonnie would lie."

Mike bit back the urge to snap at her. "But I don't know that," He pointed out. "You guys have kept me in the dark about everything. Yourselves, the pizzeria, the other animatronics… If you won't even tell me that you guys are the reason I'm healing – how am I supposed to believe that he's telling the truth. How am I supposed to trust that any of you are telling the truth."

None of the animatronics seem to have a response to this and Mike dry swallowed.

"The thing that hurts is that you could have told me about this. You guys aren't on the ground twitching, or frying your circuits. There was nothing keeping you from telling me."

But you would have reacted the same way!" Freddy retorted. He held his hands out, palms up as if his explanation was an offering, his eyes pleading. "You would have still snapped at us and questioned us."

Mike gritted his teeth. They weren't getting it. "So you kept quiet? Even if my reaction is the same, at least you guys would have told me something. You guys keep wanting me to trust you, to be comfortable around you. For me to be able to do that I need to trust you. If you would have told me… sure I would be a little mad, and I might have snapped at you, but it wouldn't break my trust."

He laughed humorlessly, looking at them all. "Don't you guys get it? I can't trust you now."

"Now wait a moment lad, me and Chika weren't a part of this though. We were kept in tha' dark!" Foxy stated. He looked genuinely worried at what Mike was saying.

Mike didn't reply and took a deep breath. Only now did he realize that Alisha was sitting right there, listening to them argue. Guilt flashed through his stomach and he nudge the wide-eyed girl towards the door. "Why don't you go and tell Sarah that I'm ready to see her?"

The five-year-old nodded and quickly ran out of the room.

Taking another deep breath he looked at the other occupants in the room. Only now did he notice he was breathing deeply. His skin was flush and his heart was pounding. He needed to calm down.

"I don't know what you guys consider necessary to keep from me, but you need to talk it out together. I'm not stupid and I'm not some fragile little night guard that you need to put back together. If you guys can't clear up at least a few questions I have, maybe it's time for us to go our separate ways."

All of their eyes widened in shock and Mike felt a tiny sliver of hesitancy. He pushed it down though and looked at the wall next to his bed, waiting for them to leave. What he said was true. He needed at least some answers and he wasn't going to bend for anything.

"Mike come on, let's talk about this," Chika said. "It's safer if we stick together. Safety in numbers right?"

"Chika's right matey. Let us be at least speakin' about our possibilities," Foxy said.

Mike didn't say anything and Freddy spoke up. "Mike… what your asking is something that we can't easily give. If we give you answers you'll just want more. And if we do, we can't protect you from what's out there."

Thankfully, before he could cave in and ask Freddy what he meant by that Sarah chose to walk in.

Before the animatronics had come in she had promised him that she would kick them out if they started to freak him out, or if he didn't want to talk to them anymore. At first he hadn't thought that he would need her to, but now he was glad she had had offered. Mike could hear the animatronic wordlessly leave and waited a split second to insure that they were gone before looking up at Sarah, "Thanks." He muttered.

"You okay?" She asked. Mike nodded sitting back with a sigh. Ever since she had found out that it was the animatronics that were causing his healing she had become more… amiable. She had apologized for distrusting him and for treating him so badly. While it was unexpected, her apology had been quickly accepted.

With the countless hours she spent on his wounded leg and the nonchalant air she always seemed to carry he ended up talking a lot about everything that had happened. He explained to her how he knew the animatronics and how they had ended up together.

Eventually he told her about his panic attacks, and while he hadn't told her directly what caused them, it seemed she had picked up on it.

"Hey," Sarah said sitting down. Her face was uncharacteristically soft. "Relax."

Mike realized that he had balled his hands into fists and that they were shaking. He relaxed them. Why was he so angry about this?

"Sorry," He mumbled covering his face with his hands. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

A small smirk grew on Sarah's face. "Where do I start?"

"Do you think you're funny?" Mike asked.

"No, I know I am," Sarah smiled.

Mike huffed. "Whatever."

"In all honesty though, you're overtired," Sarah stated. "Your body is working overtime to try and heal up and you're staying up when you should be sleeping."

Mike didn't answer and laid back. It was true he wasn't sleeping well, but that was just because his leg hurt. He wasn't about to admit it, but it was a deep-set ache that made even his worse headache seem tame. The pain was keeping him up at night he could do nothing but grit his teeth and hope to fall into fitful sleep. He had asked Sarah once if they had any painkillers and she had told him no.

He looked around. "Where's Alisha?"

"With Jeremy," Sarah said.

Mike nodded. The feeling of guilt he had before returned full force as he realized that he had been spending less and less time with Alisha ever since they had come into contact with the animatronics. Rebecca had made him promise to take care of Alisha and he had been neglecting that responsibility.

Sarah looked around awkwardly. "Do you want to talk?"

"Talk about what?" Mike said.

"I don't know," Sarah retorted. She seemed embarrassed. "Whatever is on your mind. It's not healthy to bottle things up, especially if it's things that concern 'them'."

He rolled his eyes. "Tell me about it." Sarah looked at him pointedly and he winces lightly as his leg twinge uncomfortably. "Look, I know you want to help me but I don't think you'd understand."

"So what? I didn't go to get my masters in psychology, but even if I don't understand, I know it's better to get it out into the open rather than to stew on it. Would it help if I got Jeremy to talk to you about it?"

Mike just shook his head. The idea was tempting, but he knew he couldn't talk to Sarah about it. She wouldn't get it, understand what he had gone through. And he didn't even want to consider sharing with Jeremy. He could just imagine himself dying of embarrassment. He remember his councilor telling him something along the same line as Sarah was. That not telling anyone was only hurting himself. Sarah knew more than she had and he still couldn't tell her.

Sarah sighed in exasperation. "Mike you've got to let it out somehow."

"I can't," Mike said.

Sarah stared at him for a few minutes, her expression unreadable. "If you won't talk to a person… will you talk to something else?"

"Huh?" Was Mike's intelligent reply.

Her eyes lit up slightly and she stood up. "Wait a sec' I'll be right back." She disappeared through the door.

Staring at where she had vanished Mike lightly clacked his teeth together and sat back. He wasn't going to deny that Sarah seemed like a completely different person now that she didn't hate him. She was still headstrong and stubborn, but she was… sweeter.

Mike scrunched up his brows. That wasn't the right word. She was…

Friendlier.

It didn't take her long to return with a small object in her hand and a pleased look on her face. "I was keeping this for… I don't know, if everything went back to normal, but it doesn't look like it's going to anytime soon."

She held out her hand and Mike hesitantly took the small object which turned out to be a video camera. He inspected it briefly before looking up at her. He felt his face heat up, knowing that for her to give up something like this for him must be hard. "You didn't need to do this," He said.

Sarah snorted. "Your face is redder than a tomato Mike."

Mike sputtered and she laughed pulling a strand of hair back into place. "Don't take it the wrong way. I'm just doing this because I feel bad for treating you so poorly." Despite her callused words she wore a wry grin that showed that there were no hard feelings. Before Mike could say anything she began walking towards the door. "Just holler if you need anything, or if one of them tries to talk to you."

Mike sat back with a small smile and examined the camera again. Switching it on he saw that it had full power and he quickly turned it back off. There was no use wasting battery.

The idea of talking, even if it was only to a camera made a surge of emotions to rise. Nervousness, anger, sadness, and a slew of other made his hands shaky as memories surfaced. He had kept quiet for so long… would he be able to get the words out if he tried?

He carefully put the camera down on the floor next to the bed. His mind was swimming with so many thoughts and emotions right now that if he tried he would just end up rambling down random tangents of thought. He needed to organize his thoughts before he could hope to get everything off his chest.

Mike was thanking every deity in existence that he was able to walk now.

It had been another three days since his little spat with the animatronic and with nothing to do he was going stir crazy.

As he hobbled back and forth he glanced towards the boarded up window. Orange tinged sunlight streamed through the cracks while dust made lazy eddies in the light. He supposed that technically he shouldn't be walking, but if he had to spend another minute in that bed, shit was going to go down.

The three days had been spent mostly alone. Sarah would come in and check up on him occasionally, Jeremy would rarely show himself, and Alisha spent at least a couple hours with him. But for the most part he had been alone.

He had hoped that the animatronics would have at least come and told him something, but he hadn't so much as heard one walking by.

So to keep himself busy he had taught himself to walk with his injury. Sarah had told him he shouldn't start walking for at least another few weeks. She even wanted to look around and see if they could find some crutches for him, which he was having none of.

The first time he had tried the pain that hit his leg had caused a half shriek to escape him. His eyes watered and it had taken another twenty minutes for him to even talk himself into trying again. It had hurt just as much as the first time, but he had gritted his teeth and made himself to take a few steps.

His wound had bled a little, but it wasn't anything too noticeable. It hadn't taken long before he was moving around the room pretty easily. There was an obvious limp in his gait, and his leg still throbbed with pain, but pacing back and forth was better than not being able to walk at all.

He knew that Sarah would probably have an ulcer if she saw him right now and somehow found it immensely amusing.

As he paced back and forth he couldn't help but glance towards the camera that sat on the bed. While he was more comfortable with the thought of talking to the camera rather than a person, it still sounded ridiculous. He wasn't recording it for anyone to watch. What was the point?

And there was the fact that he would probably break down if he did start talking. If he actually did, there was no doubt in his mind. It was like a deep ache in his chest that thudded harshly with his heartbeat.

Shuddering, he shook his head. No, there was no way that was going to happen. At least… not where there was the chance of someone walking in.

A few restless minutes past of his quiet marching came and went. He could hear muffled voices from downstairs. The faint smell of something warm and sweet wafted through the room. Sarah had said she was cooking something. Mike couldn't remember what. He hadn't been paying attention at the time.

Chewing the inside of his cheek Mike glanced at the door.

It was strange not seeing the animatronics constantly. Oh, he was still mad at them – just the thought of them got him worked up – but… it was almost like he missed them.

Footsteps on the stair had him stumbling for the bed and he barely managed to work his way into the covers before Sarah opened the door.

She was holding a paper plate loaded with…

"Pizza?" Mike asked.

Sarah smiled lightly and rolled her eyes. "Chika wanted to help cook something and I didn't really trust her with anything else. Alisha helped with desert and it's a little more appetizing." She spun the plate a little showing a slice of what looked like apple pie.

Mike accepted the plate and dug into it without a word. Sarah stood there for a minute looking like she wanted to ask something, but then she turned and walked towards the door.

"I'll grab you something to drink."

Mike didn't reply and it didn't take long before she was back with a cup of water. Taking it as well he watched Sarah. She still seemed like she wanted to ask him a question, but just couldn't say it. When he didn't prompt her to say it she smiled at him a little sadly. "Do you want me to check on your leg tonight or tomorrow morning?"

"Morning," Mike said.

She nodded and once again waited a second. Finally she turned to leave. "Just call if you need anything."

He tried to quell the sliver of shame he felt as she left. He hadn't meant to be rude, but he knew what she was going to ask. He had seen her glance at the camera and there was no way he was going to talk about it right now.

Letting out a lungful of air Mike went back to finishing the meal even though his appetite was gone.

He hadn't wanted to talk to Sarah about it because he was ashamed. Who wouldn't? He couldn't even face himself and talk to a camera much less a camera. But now that the idea was planted in his head he wanted to let it out. He wanted to explain how he felt. Every time he tried though, it became impossible.

The frustration Mike felt was going to make him explode. There had never been a time where he had wanted to scream. Balling his hands into fists he gazed at the window. An idea suddenly came to him, unbidden.

And after everything he had been through he was all for it.

The idea quickly turned into a plan. Glancing over he could see that the orange light had vanished. Replacing it was the cool colors of dusk.

He just had to wait a little longer… until everyone was asleep…

It turns out he didn't have to wait too long. He could hear the people on the stairs as the shuffled to the rooms. He knew that someone had been left downstairs to guard, but that didn't matter to him. Waiting a few minutes to be sure that he wouldn't be checked up on, he moved over to the boards.

Normally he would have needed a hammer or something to help remove the screws, but after spending as long as he had memorizing every detail about this room he knew that the drywall next to the window was mostly worn out.

It was still a pain in the butt to remove the boards but he made short work of ripping the boards out of the wall and soon he had a small pile of them sitting on the floor.

His breathing came out in nervous chugs as he stopped and listened for an indication that someone was coming. He knew that what he was doing was extremely stupid and selfish. Here he was: some injured guy about to run out without telling the people caring for him that he was leaving. But hey, after all the shit he had gone through recently he deserved a little him time right?

Right?

Mike looked down at the ground below the window. Normally if he was feeling up to his he would have just jumped down – never mind the inevitable scrapes – but with the gathering darkness and his injured leg there was no way he could.

The idea of tying everything on the bed together to make a rope crossed his mind, but he wrote it off. There was an electricity pole that was haphazardly leaning against the wall a few feet away. A car with a familiar stool indent in its roof was sitting at its base.

He couldn't quite reach it though. If he wanted to use it, he would have to jump. Remembering something he climbed awkwardly onto the sill he quickly climbed back down. Walking over to the bed he grabbed the camera.

Repeating his awkward balance act on the sill he felt his heart hammer in his chest. Second guessing himself for a split second he took a deep breath and pushed off with his good leg.

He managed to catch the pole in a bear hug like grip and hung on tightly. His legs swung around and he winced when they knocked together. Unable to wrap his bad leg around the pole to shimmy down he was forced to move hand over hand. He slowly made his way down to the ground that way and he shook his arms out once he was down.

Looking up at the window above him, he tried to shake the uneasy feeling.

It was only then he realized that he didn't really have any idea what to do now. His plan had mostly been getting out of his impromptu prison so that he could talk to the camera without worrying about someone seeing him break down. He didn't have anywhere he could actually go to do it.

Shaking it off, he picked a direction and began walking. There were hundreds of empty houses now, it should be easy to find a vacated one to talk in.

With his limping gait he moved along, nervously checking his surroundings for zombies. There were none in sight, but he wasn't going to chance it. He stopped often to give his leg a break and listen for any sign of them.

It took a moment for him to realize that part of his unease was due to being away from everyone.

Mike felt a sudden bout of anger at the realization. He didn't need them to protect him. He didn't need anyone. Both he and Alisha had been doing fine before they ran into the animatronics. They didn't need them now.

Spurred by this thought his pace increased. He was starting to recognize where he was. If he kept it up he could actually make it to his parents' house.

Eventually he made it to a neighborhood of abandoned houses, or… what was left of it.

He grimaced at the sight of the burned buildings. Some of them looked like they had just been slightly singed, while some of them were nothing but foundations. But it was undeniable, the neighborhood was gone.

There was a perturbed feeling of loss surrounding the area that Mike didn't like at all. All of these houses had belonged to people. Where were they now? Picking up his pace he quickly walked down the blackened sidewalks until he reached houses that weren't burned down.

Part of him kept saying that this was a bad idea, but he kept going, through several other neighborhoods and a small shopping complex. He was starting to see small groups of zombies wandering around and his pace slowed.

It took him far too long to reach his destination, but when he did, he still didn't feel ready. He slowly came to a stop staring at the house.

Everything was exactly how he remembered, with its light blue walls and well-kept flower garden. Memories came unbidden to him. Learning to ride a bike. Spending countless hours in the tree. This was undeniably his parents' house.

Ignoring the potential danger he could be in he slowly walked up the sidewalk until he was standing in the doorway. Dry swallowing he swung the door open and was instantly struck with familiar sights and smells. The living room was just as he remembered with the couch and coffee table. A small TV sat in the corner.

He didn't even realize he had shut the door behind him as he walked down the hallway, looking at all the pictures of him and his parents hanging on the wall. His chest felt tight as he grabbed one and moved into the kitchen.

The cool smell of cinnamon hit him as he looking around, drinking everything with his eyes. The brown cabinets, the white table. His chest tightened even more and against his will his feet dragged him along up the stairs. It was a workout for his injured leg, but Mike almost didn't feel it next to the lump growing in his throat.

His room was just as he remembered it, a few boxes sitting here and there. It looked like his mother had made his bed and vacuumed his carpet, but for the most part it was left alone, as if she had been waiting for him to come home.

Tears welled in his eyes and he tore his gaze away. His leg prevented him from running down the stairs, but he moved as fast as he could through the kitchen down another hallway and into his parents' room.

His mother hadn't been as quite as happy as she had when his father was alive, but Mike didn't realize just how much she missed him until he saw the room. His father's stuff was untouched, probably from when he was still alive. Clothes lay on the floor and small odds and ends collected dust.

Feeling his legs quiver he sank down against the wall. The ache in his chest seemed to match the throbbing from his leg. Whatever confidence he had when he left the fire station was gone. Why had he come here? Why had he thought this would be a good idea?

He stared at the foot of the bed.

Mike didn't know how long he sat there staring the bed, but eventually he heard the old analog clock in the kitchen go off. It chimed eleven times before falling silent. Shaking his head he forced himself to stand and hobbled into the kitchen.

Collapsing into a chair he put down the picture and camera on the table. He shouldn't have come here it was obvious now. He had thought that maybe he could handle it, but now… He just couldn't. He had come to terms with the fact that his father was dead, but he wasn't ready to say goodbye to his mother.

How he wanted to hug his mom, tell her that he loved her just one more time. He could picture her so clearly pulling a pizza from the oven, or making a phone call across from him.

He looked around the kitchen again, wrapped up in a blanket of nostalgia, until his gaze came to a rest on the counter. Despite his hurting leg he stood up and made his way over. His brow furrowed as he picked up the bottle and read the label, he knew that his father had enjoyed a drink every now and then, but he had never seen his mother drink anything stronger than a glass of wine. So she had developed a taste for whiskey?

Shrugging he brought the bottle with him and set it down next to the picture and camera. He was almost twenty-one – why not celebrate a little early?

The ache in his chest rose up into his throat and Mike felt like he was about to cry. Clenching his teeth Mike tried to collect himself. He was here for a reason, and even if he didn't feel like doing it he was going to get it over with.

He was going to this stupid video that Sarah thought he needed to make. No matter how painful, or what memories it might bring up, he was going to get this over with.

Mike stared at the camera for a few minutes, trying to think of how to address the video. A few candles burned around the room giving off enough light to make out what was going on. Next to the camera the bottle of whiskey sat there, opened and ready for him to take another swig.

He made a face. He could honestly say he wasn't a whiskey person. The taste was off-putting for him, but he wasn't drinking for the taste.

Grabbing it he made quick work of another mouthful and set it down. The liquid burned horribly in his throat making him cough slightly, but as soon as it hit his stomach warmth bloomed there. The heat was pleasant and Mike relaxed into his chair.

He thoughtfully looked at the camera. Why not address it to Alisha? He obviously wasn't going to show her this, but it might help him word how he felt. It would be like a recording for the future. Kinda' like that show, Good Luck Charlie, only in a zombie apocalypse setting.

Chuckling rather darkly he gazed tiredly at the shuttered kitchen window. He had locked all the windows and doors to prevent a surprise entrance from a zombie and had shut the window blinds to make sure no one saw the candle light. He didn't want to have to worry about that while his motor skills were hindered.

The heat in his middle spread to the rest of him making him hot and he pushed his sleeves up. Grabbing the bottle again he took a sip and was successful this time in not coughing.

Taking the camera he powered it on and gave it a quick onceover to make sure that there was nothing wrong besides the superficial scratches. He placed it on the table so that it could easily view him and sat back.

Pressing the record button he began.

He started off, unsure, and a little weirded out that he was talking to a camera. But as time dragged on he became more sure of himself. He had already figured that he would be all over with what exactly he was talking about, first talking like he was speaking directly to Alisha, to going off about how something that the animatronic did made him feel. The whiskey definitely helped loosen his tongue enough to get some things out.

He talked about how he first worked at Fazebears pizzeria. He talked about how the animatronics made him feel both then and now. He talked about how he felt about the end of the world, zombies and all. He talked about Jeff, about Alisha, about his parents. He got to talk about how he would probably never have to worry about taxes, or car insurance. And how he would never get too see the Eiffel Tower, or go to a Superbowl. He got to spill it all on anything and everything.

And it was painful for him, almost as painful as getting shot. Reopening old wounds and pulling skeletons out of the closet that had been there for years hurt. At one point in time he had limped off to punch a hole in the wall and cry.

In the back of his mind, Mike was glad that he was alone. He hated crying and he hated it even more when people saw. He felt vulnerable. And there was a lot of it, crying. Hot angry tears, sad tears, upset tears, the waterworks were in full swing tonight.

The whiskey probably didn't help with that.

But just as painful as it was to bring things up that he had suppressed for so long, it felt good. It felt good to finally vent about how he felt. To shout at the unfairness of it all.

In the end he sat there, staring at the camera. His leg was throbbing just as much as his head was spinning and he was tired. Rubbing his face he gave a lopsided smile to the camera and scratched his chest. "I think that's everything… If there's more I can't think about it right now. Listen, Alisha. If by some crazy reason you or anyone sees this. I just want you to know that… your special to me. You're like a little sister to me."

He jerked his head more upright and shook it. "I just have to be drunk to say things like this." He mumbled. He reached over and shut off the camera.

The room spun more forcefully and he squinted. His chest burned almost like he had heart burn and he was hot. Grabbing the bottle he looked to see that more than half of its content was gone. Smacking his lips distastefully he stood up and hobbled over to the sink, pouring the rest of it down the drain.

He turned on the faucet and waited for a moment before realizing that the water didn't work anymore. Stumbling over to the candle he blew it out and moved towards his room. It was harder for him to move in a straight line. His hurt leg, plus his spinning head had him leaning heavily on the railing and the walls until he made it to his room.

Collapsing onto his bed he grunted in discomfort as his leg cried out at being mistreated. He tried for a moment to kick off his shoes before he gave up. Random thoughts swam through his head, before darkness pulled him under and he was asleep.

Blinking, Mike squinted against the sunlight streaming through his blinds. It was too bright, and hurt his eyes. Check that, it hurt his whole head, along with his leg. If this is what it felt like to be hung over he didn't like it one bit. His tongue felt fuzzy, and his thoughts were jumbled.

Keeping his eyes closed he slowly sat up, feeling like he was about to fall. He didn't just hurt, he felt sick. His stomach felt queasy and he ached all over. Making a face, he tried to get rid of the sour taste in his mouth. He grimaced as he thought of how he had nearly drunk a whole whiskey bottle.

Wasn't there a thing called alcohol poisoning? He sure felt like he had been poisoned.

With a groan he forced himself to open his eyes.

It took him a moment to realize that he wasn't alone and that there was someone standing in the doorway, or rather, something.

In an instant Mike was wide awake and standing on his good leg. The figure in the doorway looked like a china version of Bonnie. With a toy-like appearance and bright green eyes, it stared at him rather innocently.

It's grin widened when it saw that he had noticed it. "About time you woke up sleepyhead! We've been waiting all morning."

Mike grabbed the lamp sitting on the bed stand and it gave him an amusing chuckle, looking him over. Mike did likewise, his head still spinning. He was reminded again of Bonnie with the bunny façade, but this appeared to be a lot newer than Bonnie. It was smaller than Bonnie to, While Bonnie towered over him, this was his height, if not just a little shorter, it was definitely an animatronic though.

"So are you just going to stare, or are we going to have a proper introduction?"

The voice startled Mike and he gave it a guarded look. The voice was definitely feminine. He slowly straightened and held his head as it pounded.

"Mike."

She nodded and smiled widely at him. "I'm Toy Bonnie, but you can call me TB."