Dix-sept [One has doubts, the other has faith.]

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Henry'd learned a lot after three-hundred and four loops. Not enough to find freedom, but enough to know he was doing something right. Hard to appreciate when the mistakes were like thorns raking against his heart.

Allison remembered enough to be of help. Sammy was doing better and better each time, despite the fall backs. Some searchers and lost ones would look Henry's way not with disdain but with… he didn't want to call it hope. Hope was dangerous.

But the bad? Good god, the bad. Tom still hated him, Buddy wasn't safe no matter what he did. Susie knew about the loops and used them for her own sadistic pleasure, leaving Buddy mangled a horrid way each time. The Projectionist wasn't showing much progress. Bertrum was still Bertrum. The Ink Demon still went for the throat whenever it got a chance, even when it tried to speak.

All in all? Henry was feeling the weight. The pressure crushing him under its boot heel. If what the gold ink scrawled across him said was true, he was past the point of breaking. "How many more loops are we going to go through?" Henry asked, mostly to himself. Sitting in the Toy room, not having Susie after them yet, the cartoonist was feeling his age. Did he even age down here?

Sammy shrugged. "However many it takes." The axe weighed heavily at his hip. He'd had his back to Henry, watching for Buddy to come back with soup. The wolf volunteered to go off on his own. "And I've a delightful feeling this is part of the next step out the door."

Henry didn't look up. "How can you know?"

"My little sheep, I've seen it happen." His masked face turned up to the rafters and his arms spread wide, as if he spoke to a congregation rather than just one man. "I am always here to be sure that things change." He pulled his hands in and stared at his palms. All five fingers present and twitching at the thrill of more coming back. "I am part of the progress being made! I am proof that this is working in our favor." He drew them to his chest, feeling the heartbeat he'd only come to know a few loops ago. "Soon, I can taste it, we will be free of this place. You will set us free."

"... what if I can't?"

Sammy faltered, turning to the man on the steps. His heart sank and sped at the sight.

"Sammy." Henry looked up slowly, tears brimming in his eyes. "What if I can't set you free?"

The ink man approached quickly, hands raised and unsure how to proceed. "Henry?"

"We've been at this so long. I've been here hundreds of loops, but everyone else? So much longer. I don't want them putting faith in me only to find we're stuck." And he was truly believing they really were forever stuck.

The prophet lowered his hands and dipped to his knees before the cartoonist. "Doubt isn't unknown down here, but hope means so much more." It hurt seeing someone who'd endured so much cracking, but he knew it had to happen at some point. Sammy leaned forward and lay a tentative hand on the man's shoulder. "Why do you doubt yourself now after coming so far? After so much progress?"

"Progress," Henry sighed shakily and removed his glasses, the same hand raking his scalp. "We're at three hundred and four loops. You, Buddy, Allison, Tom… there's still so many lost ones left down here and I don't know if I can get through to them all!" His voice cracked on the last word and he thumped a fist at the step to his left. "There is so much left to do and I'm just one man."

Sammy nodded from his kneeling position. "That is true..." His hand moved up and down the man's arm, feeling the warmth of him underneath his inked hand. "But you're not alone in it."

"I'm so tired." Henry dropped his gaze and stared at the floorboards. "I'm tired of seeing others hurt. Even knowing the next turn will mean you're back."

An inky hand grasped Henry's other arm. "You aren't the one who put us here."

"I still left."

"You couldn't have known this is what would happen." Sammy leaned forward, the softness he'd used on so many frightened lost ones seeping through. "The future's not ours, but hope is." He told himself over the whispers in his head that he was allowed to do this. He could offer comfort, he could listen.

"How aren't you tired of this?"

"Mm. Being pushed through multiple iterations of the same old song-and-dance opens more than your eyes. You are a mote of light in the dark. You've been nothing but kind, as you've always been. It's a rarity I'll guard with my life." Sammy had stopped petting Henry, both hands to his shoulders with a firm grip. "Your path is my path, Henry. I can't think of a better man to follow."

Tears spilled over and Henry felt something painful unknot behind his breastbone. The cartoonist fell forward, buried his face in Sammy's shoulder and cried. He gripped Sammy to him, not caring about the ink that stained him so badly.

The musician gasped silently, arms open. He… did not expect this. But over the whispers of the ink and the feelings he still could not silence or take in, Sammy hugged back. Even as a human, he was lacking in this department… but he tried. His right arm remained across Henry's back, his left tracing up to stroke the back of his head. "I've got you." Coal black fingers threaded through faded auburn hair.

A quiet moment of stress and calm, gone in a minute in that grim factory room.

The cartoonist pulled away, reddened eyes fixed on the floor still. "I can't do this."

Sammy gave Henry's shoulders a squeeze. "You can. You are."

"How can you know?"

Sammy smiled softly beneath his mask and pushed it up slightly with his thumb. "Because I have faith in you." With reverence one would show a covenant, the prophet placed a chaste kiss to Henry's hairline. The fear of a massive overstep loomed like Damocles sword, but this needed doing. Henry needed to know the depth of his devotion and gratitude, even if the man was not a god or demon. Pulling his mask down to cover himself completely, the musician waited.

Henry sniffed before drying his face on his shirtsleeve. "Glad one of us does." He rubbed his legs to get a bit of feeling back into them. The man paused, then reached upward for Sammy's mask. He knew he'd glimpsed something else underneath, but Sammy's hand promptly stopped him. A cool, firm grip to his wrist. "You never let me see your face."

"There is no face."

"I've seen it before."

"Don't. Please." Sammy murmured in warning. His mask was his face, no matter how many loops there would be. "Try to rest." He let Henry's hand drop.

"I don't know. The Angel doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"Sounds like a she problem, not a we problem." Sammy stood and scanned the room with a hand to his chin. He pointed to the massive Boris plush that lay against a chute. "That should work."

Henry stood and stretched. "The giant Boris."

"It looks comfortable. Soft, warm, better than sitting slumped against a wooden wall, don't you think? I wouldn't trust those broken couches at any rate." Sammy waved him over but didn't slow. "Come along."

Henry huffed a laugh. "Alright. But I'm not closing my eyes until Buddy comes back."

Sammy's head swiveled. "That could be some time."

"I'll live." Henry sat between the legs of the plush and threw an arm over one leg. "You don't sleep much, do you?"

"I have no need."

Brows knit above hazel eyes. "Don't you get tired?"

"A prophet's work is never done."

"But Sammy's work can wait for a bit-"

The ink man turned to a sudden noise, pulling free the axe at his hip. Buddy raised both hands in surrender, ears pulled back. He stood in the threshold of the toy department.

Sammy replaced his weapon. "Oh, you're back so soon." He'd hoped just a touch to have more alone time with Henry.

Buddy stepped into the room from the stairs, rucksack full of soup. He offered a can to Sammy, only to receive a head shake in return. The wolf shrugged and tossed it to Henry, who caught it with ease and popped the top open.

It tasted like clay and pork fat, but it had kept him going.

Buddy offered another one, but Henry declined. "You can have it."

The wolf shrugged and tucked it into his rucksack. He'd had two on the way back!

Sammy strode towards Henry and crouched. "Little sheep, it's time for sleep. Your wolf isn't wandering astray now."

Henry chuckled and leaned back. "You're pretty eager to get me into bed."

The musician scoffed, thankful he didn't have the ability to blush.

Buddy covered his muzzle and let out a silent laugh. Goodness, these two!

Henry scooted back into the soft belly of the plush toy. "Try not to stare."

"Oh, how could I? I have to be sure nothing attacks your dreaming form." Sammy asked softly.

The cartoonist thumped a hand to the leg of the toy. "Take a breather."

"No."

Henry smiled gently. "Sammy. An hour won't kill you."

Sammy stood, swaying on his feet in thought. "But an hour without me to guard you might kill you."

The human leaned forward. "I always come back. You know that by now."

Sammy tapped finger to thumb in a pattern close to a waltz. "It doesn't make it hurt any less." A tap on his shoulder tugged him to the matter at hand.

Buddy held open his hands with an expectant look.

"You? The most timid little wolf I've ever met?"

Buddy nodded and made grabbing motions, eyes determined.

"... oh, fine." He passed his axe to the Boris clone, who nodded in thanks and wandered away. "So long as you two are happy."

Buddy would make sure that nothing would creep in. He'd done this more times than he could count. He could handle watching out for enemies for an hour! He'd hate every terrifying second, but Henry needed a break! Besides, being a plaything for the twisted angel made him a teeny bit braver. What could these clones do that could top what she'd done?

Outnumbered, Sammy tilted back his head and spread his arms at the ceiling. "Oh, the things I do for this man," he said with a dramatic sigh.

The cartoonist chuckled, head resting against the plush. "You're stalling."

"Perhaps." The ink man shook his head faintly, but he sat. He did so as far from Henry as physically possible while still being in sight.

The cartoonist chuckled.

"Just what is so funny, little sheep?"

"If you sat any farther away, you'd be in the elevator."

He waved Henry off. "Oh, hush up and sleep."

"How? It's lonely all the way over here."

The musician raised himself onto his hands and inched himself closer. He said nothing, but made clear his annoyance at the entire ordeal of having to move over about two feet. He fixed Henry with a look… which was lost under the Bendy mask. "Better?" He asked in a feather-light tone.

"Yup." Henry folded his hands over his stomach and shut his eyes.

Just like that. How funny. Perhaps Henry had been far more tired than Sammy had thought. The man had a constant look of exhaustion, but the musician had assumed that was due to age… and Henry had aged, from the memories Sammy gained. Not wanting to wake the man -if he were even asleep at all!- Sammy rested his hands in his own lap. He kept his gaze scanning the room.

Buddy made a circuit around the toy room, ears sharply perked to any sudden noise. A good wolf, guarding his flock despite how scared the poor thing seemed to get.

Sammy tensed at the feeling of weight to his shoulder. He glanced down at the man who'd decided while dreaming that his inky form was a dandy pillow. The prophet glanced at the man's sleeping face, drinking in details he couldn't fully observe when he was awake. Warm olive and freckle-peppered skin. Auburn hair, crazily tousled up top and gray rising from the temples. Thick but short beard. Thin brows and a narrow curved nose, a down-turned mouth with faint cupids bow…

No. Stop that. Bad Prophet. That is not allowed.

Sammy frowned at that old, ingrained repetition that he'd feel now and again. That is not allowed, but why not? He wasn't allowed to look at Henry like that? He… wasn't allowed to feel lighter when the man smiled his way? He wasn't allowed to express his gratitude with a common gesture?

No. He was not allowed to feel these things.

But why not?

He searched for an answer by examining the artist beside him. The folded, tanned hands resting against his stomach. They rose and fell in a steady rhythm, and something caught the light. A simple band around Henry's left ring… finger…

... ah. That was why.

The ink man frowned hard and took in a breath. Well, shame on him for not seeing that sooner. A quiet sigh, and the ink man rested his cheek on top of Henry's head. He could return the favor of being a pillow, and he had promised not to stare. Sammy could safely say this didn't feel wrong, allowed or not.

He fell from the waking world and into a memory.

"Nerves, Miss Pendle?" Sammy asked as he fiddled once again with the microphone hanging from the ceiling.

"Oh, not at all." Her smile could light the darkest room. "Just lines today?"

"For now." Sammy blew out a fiery breath and looked back at her with a caustic smile. "I'll be lucky to have the score back by Monday."

Allison's smile turned knowing yet stayed friendly. "I've heard Mister Drew is a tough boss."

"Amen to that. What else have you heard?"

"That you, mister Lawrence, are the devil himself when you're angry." She planted a hand to her jutting hip and shook her head. "But I'm not seeing it."

Sammy frowned, brows furrowed. "Have you ever seen me angry?"

"Not yet."

"Give it time." He adjusted his ponytail with a tug over his shoulder. He desperately needed a haircut. Movement caught his eye from entry of the orchestral room. Susie was making her way to the booth, her smile bright as ever.

Why was she here? She'd been let go last week.

Their eyes met through the glass and her smile tightened before she opened the door to the recording booth. "Morning, Sammy." But the strain of her grin faltered as it landed on Allison like a target. "Who's this?"

Sammy blinked at Susie's confusion. She had to be joking. "Susie, this is Allison Pendle." He narrowed his eyes her way. "She's been cast as the voice of Alice Angel."

The raven shook her head, smile spreading and taught. "No, that's silly, Sammy. I'm Alice Angel. We're doing lines today, remember?"

Sammy shot Allison a look and strode to the door. "Miss Pendle, stay here." Not looking at either of the two women, he waved Susie outside of the room. "Out here, please." He quickly pulled the door shut. "Susie, what's going on?"

Her smile fell, and a glare pinched her cute features. "You tell me, Sammy. I'm here for my line work and the first thing outta your mouth is she's replaced me." Her eyes welled up, but her slowly growing smile said she didn't quite believe it. "There's gotta be a mistake."

"I thought Joey'd had a talk with you." Foolish of him to assume that grinning bastard would go above sending a memo. "The memo went out last week."

"But… n-nobody told me." Susie's mascara was running in black trails down her cheeks. "I got replaced and nobody told me!"

… that son of a bitch. "You didn't get the memo?"

"No! How could you let this happen?"

His brows twitched in frustration. "That was Joey's decision!"

"But you're the music director!"

"And?"

"You could have said something!"

"I don't like it any more than you do, Susie-"

"Then why didn't you do something?"

"Do what? It's over and done with!" Sammy exhaled sharply from his nose, eyes shut. How to word it. How to say it. He raised his hands, discomfort blooming in his chest. "Susie, we had a good run but I'm about as in control of this place as-"

Her petite hand cracked hard across his cheek. Sammy saw no stars, but sure as hell felt his teeth bite into his cheek. God, what a blow!

"This is your fault!" Such a pretty voice shouldn't to screech like that. "Selfish bastard! You were supposed to help me!" Susie pulled back again to land another blow.

To hell with calm. Sammy grabbed her swinging hand in a crushing grip before hoisting her to him with a growl. "Maybe I'd be more willing to help you if you didn't sleep with the boss behind my back, Miss Campbell." He gave a grin sharp and cold enough to shame a steel blade. "By the look on your face, you didn't think I'd know. Word gets around faster than you do, dear." Fat lot of good it did for him if she slept with any man that'd take her!

"At least Joey doesn't have to fake it."

Showed what she knew. "You're both faker than a three-dollar bill and twice as worthless." He gave a hard squeeze until she gasped from the pain. "Get the hell out of my recording studio."

Gritting her teeth in a pathetic, perfectly aligned display, Susie stormed out the doorway.

A creaking from the booth, and Sammy turned, cupping his reddened cheek. He smirked at Allison. "Christ, what a mess."

Her dark eyes widened under lifted brows. "Are you okay? Who was that?"

"That," Sammy growled, cold eyes burning at the door. "Was the woman you're replacing."

"Are you hurt, mister Lawrence?"

He shot her a tight smile. All teeth, no joy, and just a touch of blood. "Oh, I'm fantastic. Sure to be stinging all day."

"We can hold off of recording for a minute if you need a break."

"You're too kind." He blinked. "No. Really. Don't be a sheep. Kindness isn't safe in this field."

But rather than balk or tinge red, Allison snickered at him. "You're too much, Mister Lawrence. I'm a big girl." Her smile faded. "But really. Are you okay?"

No wonder Tom fell for her. "I've had worse. Though, the small ones pack the most-"

"-punch…" He awoke, staring at the ceiling. Buddy looked over from where he stood near the elevator, head snapping up at the sound Sammy made. The ink man waved him off. "I'm fine, Buddy."

Henry lifted his head from Sammy's shoulder and groaned. The giant plush toy was an excellent idea; little to no back pain! "Good choice." He smiled sleepily at the masked man. "The plush, I mean."

"Ah." The ink man stretched his arms before him, not needing to do so but having the urge. More humanity come back, he guessed. "I… mm. I remembered something."

"What is it?"

Sammy's hands fell into his lap. "The day Susie Campbell learned that Joey revoked her place as Alice Angel." His gaze fell on Henry, shooting him a weak smile. "Joey had a memo sent out to all staff but her! And he didn't bother to say it to her face! Of all things to remember."

Henry rested a hand cautiously on Sammy's near arm, brows drawn up. "That's… I want to say I'm surprised." Joey had been a pot stirrer back in the day. He left Henry out of it, but the cartoonist knew his old pal well enough, at least back in the day. College was a nightmare when Joey sniffed out something good. "But, uh, nothing surprises me anymore."

"The worst memories hone in on people I've hurt." Sammy sighed and leaned back against the plush. "Seems that's what I was best at as a man."

"Not true." Henry smiled, eyes up at the rafters above. "I remember you being kinda fiery, sure, but you weren't malicious or anything."

"Maybe not to you."

"Maybe not, but…" Henry's smile widened, and he turned to look Sammy head on. "You never gave me a reason to dislike you. That's true now, too."

The ink man huffed. "You like them cruel, my little sheep?"

A shrug. "I figured it was a combo of stress and experience." A chuckle. "And how downright difficult Joey was to work with."

Face to mask, Sammy smiled. This, facing each other, sitting side by side… A sharp shooting sense of dread rattled the ink man back to his senses. The echo of a memory… and it did not feel fantastic. This is not allowed. "I earned my right to be a lousy bastard, you say?"

Henry chuckled. "You wanna tear yourself down, be my guest. Won't change how I feel." Leaning forward to get his feet beneath him, the cartoonist stood with a quick series of pops. "Okay. I'm good to go." He turned back to Sammy and held out his hand. "You ready?"

Sammy eyed the hand and took it to be pulled to his feet. "Whenever you are, my little sheep."

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