Words in Chapter: 2318
Written: April 27, 2015 ish
Current Characters: Mike, Jeremy, Fritz, Goldie, Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, Mangle, Foxy, Mr. Fazbear, cook, Porfirio
Warnings: Humanized

By the time Freddy got to the little coffee shop on the outskirts of the sprawling city in the early hours of the morning, Foxy was having a nervous breakdown. He paced from one end of the dining room to the other until one of his coworkers, unnerved by the break from his normally pleasant disposition, kicked him out to wait in the parking lot. It didn't stop his pacing, though Trixie did force him to stop and eat a muffin which got him sitting long enough that the shaking in his hand subsided.

He just wanted to get home, to be sure that Mangle was alright and that Jason hadn't touched her. But Freddy had texted him just as he was getting off work to tell him that Goldie wasn't feeling a hundred percent so he was going to be running late. Family came first. Foxy understood, but he really wished the other man would hurry to and get there before he popped a blood vessel worrying.

Trixie caught his hand as went by her again, dragging him down to sit beside her. She kept his hand trapped in her own so he couldn't pull away as she spoke.

"I don't know what happened to get you so worked up, but maybe you should take tonight off so you can rest."

"I can't, I've got bills to pay."

"You're lucky I haven't called an ambulance on you yet. You've been like this since your shift started."

"That's an exaggeration," he muttered. They got to their feet as a sleek black car pulled in. Foxy sighed in relief, grabbing the passenger side door before it had even come to a complete stop. "I'll see you tonight, Trix."

Freddy didn't speak at first after the door slammed shut, having seen Foxy's distressed expression, but he couldn't keep his silence for long. He wanted to ask questions, but with the way Foxy was acting he would probably get his head torn from his shoulder if he tried right away. He turned on the radio to fill the quiet while he waited for the redhead to collect his thoughts. He could see the other man's nails leaving long marks in the fabric of his pants.

"Rough night?" he asked. Foxy glanced over and sighed.

"You could say that. Where's Gold?"

"I left her at home. Bonnie's picking her up since I had to leave early to get you. You always end up working as far from any of us as you can get."

"I take what comes up," Foxy hissed, digging his nails into his knees. He could feel Freddy's glare, but after Jason's visit last night, having his friend mad at him was the least of his worries. "I need the work."

"I'm not going to try to fight with you, but you do know you can turn to us for help, Fox," Freddy shifted gears, drowning out Foxy's angry scoff. He caught the tail end of some off handed comment the man made but dismissed it. He wasn't giving in to Foxy's desire to vent by fighting. He wasn't feeding the unhealthy method of destressing. They fought too much already, he wasn't going to make that worse. "Talk to me. Is there anything you or Margaret need?"

"Nothing at all."

"How long has she been feeling unwell?"

"Stop, Freddy. I don't want to talk about her."

"I was only-"

"Stop!" Foxy shrieked. The car came to a halt outside the apartment he called home. He tore open the door, climbing out immediately. He froze when he saw the others gathered around Bonnie's rattly old car, clearly having just gotten there themselves. They were watching him, each of them, and he felt his face flush.

He knew why they were there, he didn't see Chica with them so he must have been right in thinking they were on their way in, so he kept quiet and simply went inside. He could hear them asking Freddy what was wrong. They followed him in, hanging back as he forced his apartment door open. The key didn't turn at first, stuck as the lock refused to move enough for him to get the door open. It took him twisting the key futilely a few more times then ramming his shoulder into the solid wood to get it to cooperate.

His name was called. They caught him wincing as he turned toward the woman standing at the end of the hall. She glanced past him to the others but didn't comment on their presence.

"Mr. Harrison, you know I don't want to have to do this," she said slowly, deliberately, as if speaking to a young child instead of a grown man. He winced again, raking a hand through his hair.

"I meant to talk to you about that."

"Your rent is past due, Mr. Harrison. If I don't get it from you by the end of the week I'll have no choice," she warned. His shoulder slumped. He nodded.

"I'll have it for you," he said. She continued on her way, leaving those in the hall in a tense silence.

It was Foxy who broke it by turning back and heading inside his apartment. A moment later they heard a faint conversation occur between him and Chica, then his retreating footsteps were followed by the slamming of his bedroom door.

Chica joined them at the door, already dressed in her coat and the fluffy yellow dress she wore for work. She regarded them solemnly, her eyes tired. The night had been long and it wore away at her, visible in every line of her face. Her eyes flicked back toward the apartment in a silent question, to which she only received a half hearted shrug from Freddy. She ignored him.

Her eyes found Mike's; she tilted her head just a little toward the open door, and from that action alone he knew what she wanted. She stepped aside to make room for him, and he went inside and down the short hall to the door at the end. It had a couple posters scattered on the outside, ones that were fading with age. Most were ones he'd never seen before, drawings of old ships and their pirate crews that looked as though they were done in watercolour; the signature on those were all the same. He didn't recognize the artist's writing either, but they were impressive and seemed to have all been done by the same person.

There was one that didn't quite fit with the theme of the rest, a small one that was nestled almost in the center of the door with a clear plastic sheet over the artwork to keep it from fading in time. It depicted a vibrant marketplace, the magnificent pyramids visible in the distance. Along the top, not touched by the blues of the sky around it, were the words 'To dear Foxy. Be yourself.' The signature was that of all the other works surrounding it, and deep in his heart he could feel just how personal each of these seemingly unimportant pictures must be to Foxy.

He tapped lightly on the thin door, listening close to the shuffle of papers, the clatter of what sounded like the prosthetic arm being dumped on the ground, the creak of the bed as Foxy threw himself on it. He waited a while before the other man's voice carried out into the hall.

"I don't want to talk. To anyone."

"It's me. You're upset but I have something to say, so just listen for a second. Call me if you're going to break down or something and I'll come right away, okay? I don't care if means you have to swallow your pride. Just call me, even if it's in the middle of the night."

Mike couldn't see through the door, but if he could have, he would have seen Foxy's head turn toward the door, grateful tears welling in his eyes even as he grimaced at the irony of it. He really wished he could honestly turn to Mike for help, he needed someone to turn to desperately, but he couldn't go to the server, it was much too dangerous. It was safer for everyone if Mike didn't know, as much as Foxy wanted to tell him.

Foxy kept quiet until the departing footsteps were cut off by the click of the lock and the door closing. He sighed and started to get up. His body hurt. His muscles were tense and achy, his head was pounding something fierce, his shorter arm was most likely bleeding from how much it burned, his eyes stung, his stomach hurt. If he wasn't going to get any sleep throughout the day, which he figured he wouldn't be able to after the night he'd had, he might as well take some painkillers and do something somewhat productive. But that required him to actually start moving.

He managed to get his exhausted frame up off the bed. He stopped in the kitchen, grabbing those painkillers he needed, before he moved off into the living room to find the file folder of bills and receipts he kept on one of the higher shelves. Upon retrieving it, he settled on the couch to figure out his finances until, hopefully, it bored him enough to put him to sleep.

He needed to talk to Goldie, wanted to more than anything at the moment, but he couldn't so much as speak to her until she got off work. If Freddy caught her with a phone at work he'd throw a fit. And if Freddy got curious about what was going on, whether it was reading the messages or simply demanding answers until he got them, he'd get dragged into the mess just as far as they were, and if-

He shook his head. He wouldn't call until Goldie was off work. That way there was no chance of involving anyone.

He opened the folder and started reading.

Goldie made her way through a group of nervous sounding servers, ignoring their whispered words, carefully shoving one out of the way. She could see, over the dark crowd, that Freddy had left the stage and was already starting to head over, but she knew it was a pointless gesture as he was forced to stop every few steps to reassure a family or to order another one of their staff members to get back to work and stop staring. She caught his eye and smiled, both to put him at ease and to tell him to focus on what he was doing, she'd handle it.

She got to the front, the others giving her wary glances as they gave her room, only to find that the cause of all the commotion was two men. Two men she knew.

"What's going on here?" She demanded, hoping her voice wasn't wavering. The server shrugged off her grasp as soon as she'd placed on hand on each of their shoulders to keep them apart. The other man simply watched her, lazily rocking back on his heels to observe her up close. She rarely allowed him to be so close to her anymore.

"This slimey b-"

"Language, Fritz," she hissed through her teeth. He reigned in his temper to avoid getting himself fired but he didn't take his burning eyes off the man.

"He was mistreating one of the other customer's children!" he howled, jabbing one long finger in the taller man's direction. He took as much of a step forward as he could before Goldie stopped him once more. It was then that a few other servers broke from the crowd and each took an arm to pull him back into the safety of being away from the owner's daughter.

She ignored their intrusion in favour of dragging the other half of the initial fight from the restaurant. She took him around back to where they wouldn't be seen, shoving his back against the brick wall.

He grinned at her lopsidedly, all teeth, his eyes half lidded. He grabbed at her waist, letting his hands rest on the curve of her hips so he could play with the elastic band within her pants. His thumbs worked their way beneath the loose layers of white and black shirts to rub at soft skin. Something in his eyes shone.

"You've changed," he purred. "I can feel it. With as much time as we spent together..."

She pulled away, stepped back, and he followed, invading her space. He dared her to move again with his eyes alone. She didn't. Her reaction allowed him to boldly run a hand over the slightly swollen skin, over the beginning of a bump she soon would have trouble hiding from any prying eyes. He removed his hand when hers wrapped firmly around his wrist.

"Get off of me," she ordered. He took a healthy step back, but it didn't erase the smile on his face. "Leave me alone."

"I can't do that. Is this why he's so worried about you? Because you're-"

"Leave!"

Her voice bounced off the brick and rang in their ears, but he still refused to move. He took a black phone from his pocket and dangled it in front of her, just out of her reach.

"I could hurt him, easily, Gold. Remember? I keep tabs on him. Right now he's..." his eyes flicked to the phone as he checked it quickly, as if he had all the time in the world. "...still at home, still awake, just reading. I want him out of the picture, my dear."

"Why should I care?"

"Because," he replied simply. "It's not just him that's standing in my way. I'll have things turn out the way I want them to, just watch me."

"Porfirio, you can't hurt him."

"I can, and I will. It's only a matter of time."