Author's Note: Y'all know that scene Test Drive, from How to Train Your Dragon, where Hiccup and Toothless are plummeting into some rock pillars and Hiccup just yeets his notes and puts it in Thor's hands? This is how currently how the final Act of Last Shift is going. This chapter's title is from an MCR song of the same name. In addition, listening to Monsters by All Time Low is a good add on for the theme of this chapter's events.

Note: There was a problem in uploading the previous chapter. The third act ended and the version I uploaded didn't state that. Chapter 19 has been fixed on both Ao3 and FFN. We are now in the final ACT of the Last Shift.

'To conquer the unknown you must trust.' -Anon

ACT IV.
Chapter 20: The Only Hope for Me is You

The Past, 1989

This wasn't exactly the sort of direction he pictured his life going.

Then again, who's to say it wouldn't have regardless? He was an unlucky bastard from the start of his life. born on a thirteenth. Broke his grandmother's silver mirror when he was three by accident. Crossed paths with enough black cats to start a convention. Flunked out of school, hired by pitying but well-meaning chums at a local, little diner. That was about the time he thought his luck was turning around, too. The diner got popular. Beloved. The fame had come with caveats. The miraculous machines had started malfunctioning. (Or so he'd been led to believe.) He'd worked his way dutifully from waiter to manager. He'd followed the script, he'd cleaned up messes that had no business being his responsibility. He'd taken out the trash, he'd turned on the incinerator, dropped off garbage bags at the dump. He'd followed the beloved characters from stage to stage. From back to back room.

Restaurant to restaurant.

Diner. Pizzeria. To now. To here. To this little dump. Always something new, always something the same.

What was it his boss used to say? 'The more things change, the more they stay the same?' Yeah. Sounded about right. When had it all started? Somewhere inside the diner, to be sure. The kids. Afton's kids. Henry's kid, maybe. Lord knows her death caused Henry to stop his work, caused him to slowly shut down like one of the animatronics he loved so much. And when Henry went…well, William could only follow. Except Henry became secluded, harmless, isolated. Will…Will got Angry.

Poor little Arthur. He never did like those animatronics, he wasn't like Charlie or even like his eldest sibling. However, certain choices had been made, hadn't they?

It wasn't really Fredbear's fault, and the blame lay somewhere else. With someone who was dead now, but not gone.

He shivered.

Accidents always seemed to be happening around him.

Will was right, he was hopeless. And he would continue to be.

But if he could just last until 6am, he would be golden. Just one more night. Then he could get the hell out of here and into the basement. He could warn the Marionette of what he'd learned. That history was going to repeat itself. That there was another monster lurking in the halls, in a position of power.

Maybe do some good in his life, make up for the past few years that he kept his head buried in the sand and—

THUD THUD THUD.

"S-stay away!" He warned, trying to force some authority into his voice. It didn't work.

It never did. Damn kid never listened to anyone, except maybe Michael. And he was long gone…

"Dammit, Foxy! I mean it!" He tried for threats. "You go back to your Cove young man! You do NOT get near the others! They'll kill you!"

...still, it was hard to kill the dead twice, wasn't it?

Maybe not. What was it Henry used to say? The dead don't die until their name…something something?

If he died, who would remember that poor kid's name?

He couldn't worry about Foxy right now; the kid had to take care of himself. The more distance between them, the better.

'Sorry, kid…'

He released the button on the rotary phone and let out another sigh, making static burst softly under his words.

"Uh, hey, do me a favor?"

The banging increased. What was weird was it was on his right door now. Not the left. Hadn't Bonnie just been...?

"Maybe sometime, uh, could you check inside those suits in the back room?" He licked his lips, tasting sweat and fear as the battery level dipped under 3%. It felt like his heart wanted to burst from his chest and run screaming from the building. Not a chance for the organ or himself to win such an escape. There was no use for it.

"I'm gunna try to hold out until someone checks…maybe it won't be so bad…"

THUD THUD—

"Uh, I-I-I always wondered what was in all those empty heads back there—"

Now it would be him back there, wouldn't it?

The power died. The doors rose. The footsteps quaked the floor, his chair, and his bones. Freddy's eyes were empty and stone cold wide, and his grip was brutal. Unforgiving.

"Oh, no—"

Caught.

A metallic screech cut of his thoughts and the phone line as it tumbled from his hand, useless now except for that fact that maybe, just maybe, his messages might of use to someone else in the future. It didn't matter, Bonnie and Chica blocked the shrieking animatronic and bullied the thrashing, ragged fox backwards.

To Parts and Services he went.

It's strange what our last thoughts sometimes are. No one can say for sure what they will be until it happens, and it's never wise to judge someone for theirs when we haven't gone through it ourselves. No one can know. Still, it was safe to say he'd been stuffed into his grave with more than a handful of regrets. What was worse, of course, was the fact he'd been stuffed into more than one grave.

But he didn't take correctly.

He wasn't strong enough. Wasn't good enough.

The horrible, overpowering Suit swallowed him whole and spit him right back out, livid and incensed. But he hadn't left. His shift wasn't over, even if it was his last one.

There was still...so much left to be done.

So many wrongs left to right. He just wanted one more chance.

Just one. More. Night.

"Did…did you guys hear something?" Max, safe inside his bunnybot and in full Suit mode, was used to the added hearing boost that came with being a part of a Bonnie model. He didn't have Foxy's speed or Chica's dexterity or Freddy's strength, but he relied on Scraptrap for much the same things any typical Bonnie model could offer him. They all stopped and waited as one, Rockstar Bonnie's shiny ears twitching toward the same sound Scraptrap had locked onto.

"Yeah…but I don't believe it." Bon managed slowly. "Since does Afton get scared?"

"That scream sounded like both him and Springtrap," Max pointed out. "So whatever it is that got them, it was something bad."

They gang lapsed into uneasy, unnerved silence. They hesitated, listening. Freddy hovered close to Scraptrap, the bunny's purple eyes darted this way and that.

But Springtrap didn't come fleeing in their direction, and nothing else appeared.

"Henry might've…?" Chica broached, then shook her head. "Maybe not, though. Not unless he's got..."

"Maybe the Puppet did come back." Freddy muttered, though none of them looked pleased when their leader pointed this possibility out.

No one asked for who. They all knew. Mike was gone. That only left them, and of course Henry and William.

An air of finality washed over them all, one by one. Foxy spoke up first, sounding decided and honest as he stated,

"In that case, I'd like to be buried with me treasure, if it's all the same to you lot—"

"Foxy!" Chica scolded, though the others looked as surprised as she did.

"No lass, ole Foxy can admit when he's licked! This ain't no different." Foxy eyed his shoulder. "Least I'll be ridda this blasted bird."

"Awwak!" squawked the parrot bolted to his shoulder. Then, horribly, it began to cry out sharply, "The time has coomee! For closing doors…"

That got Freddy's attention.

"What did it say?" Fazbear snapped as he whirled in place, listening to the rambling little animatronic.

"Something nonsense about closing do—oh." Bonnie's ears deflated as it all dawned on the others. "That's…strangely specific to you-know-what's usual warning at Mike it used to give. About how some doors and…yeah."

"Coincidence?" Max choked hopefully, edging themselves a bit closer to Freddy's protective side.

"I think not." Freddy grunted, and all of them glanced down the hall toward the dining room.

"We both know this ain't gunna end well, Cap'n." Foxy said quietly to their leader, who didn't take his blue optics off the long hall. But the Rockstar model nodded. Freddy was paying attention to Foxy. "Problem with closing doors, is we may not get the choice ta pick which side we're on when they do shut, aye?"

"And Michael?" Freddy demanded then, finally turning to glare at the animatronic fox. "You think we should leave him behind? Abandon him?"

"Didn't say tha','" Foxy warned, but his look was calm and steady. Firm. "Just' sayin it may come down to saving one Michael. And ah' hope ye can live with whatever choice we end up makin', Freddy Fazbear. Sometimes, ye can't save them all. No matter how badly ye wish to. You remember that."

He did. They all did. That was an old wound.

"That's cold, Foxy." Bonnie scolded when Freddy was stunned to silence.

"But Foxy's got a point," Chica sighed, casting a sad but gentle glance at Scraptrap, whose ears bent backward unhappily. "We need to be prepared."

Freddy nodded, half at Foxy and half at Chica, though all of him remained distracted and on edge. It seemed like things had gone from boring and standstill to over the hill on them all. And the once you get over the hill, you begin to pick up speed…

"Puppet led us into the warehouse, didn't he?" Freddy finally demanded to his band. "Well? Yes or no?"

"Uh, yeah. He did." Bonnie plucked at his guitar with a nervous paw. "'Course he did lock us down in the first place, but that was old Henry's orders, so…"

"And he told us not to give up on Max! That was good advice." Chica add in, earning a startled look from Scraptrap, who hadn't known this.

"Aye…kept us tied down until we could be put into these flashy new models." Foxy eyed Freddy with a critical eye, but nodded, his long jaw working. "Judging by the look the scallywag gave us when we first walked in, this was not part of his plans."

"Bet we could even given Springtrap a run for his tokens, now!" Bonnie cackled darkly.

"And according to Max, Lefty followed he and Mike around for nearly a whole day without incident. Had plenty of time to do 'em in and didn't."

"Yeah." Scraptrap agreed softly.

"Then the Marionette is still able to make choices beyond the control our Creator has forced over it." Freddy stated firmly. "Maybe not for long, and maybe not ones we understand…but I remember. I remember those first nights. The hell we put Mike through. I didn't understand its motives back then. I sure don't now. Maybe that doesn't matter."

"Freddy tossed him into a table." Bonnie explained cheerfully to Scraptrap, who winced and swallowed. "And because Mike's the way he is, naturally they're best friends now."

Scraptrap snorted, but didn't look surprised.

"Lad s'bright as a lighthouse but he's got the good sense of a barnacle some days…" Foxy sighed wearily. "Aye, Cap'n. Foxy hears ya. We press on. Hope we don't get caught in them strings when the Puppet does whatever it is inevitably going to do."

What passed between them was fleeting but thick, and Freddy grunted in reply at Foxy's version of an apology.

"Let's go, gang. Dunno bout you lot, but I ain't going down without a fight. Don't care what the Puppet thinks, or doesn't think. It ain't getting either of our boys."

"We need to protect Maxxie," Chica agreed, joining Freddy on his left like usual. "Coming, Bon?"

"…do I have a choice?"

"Bonnie." Freddy warned, tossing him the Eye.

"Kidding!" The rabbit lurched to Freddy's right, glaring down the hall, but not without his classic mutterings and snarky protests. "…just when I get a brand new guitar, we gotta off and be all heroic and junk, I hope nuthin' happens to it…"

"That rabbit." Foxy growled, causing Chica to giggle.

The strange thing about all this was, despite his better guesses and considerations, Helpy was, somehow, completely and utterly Lost.

He had never been Lost before. But it looked like a fun place!

The miniature model halted and stood, looking all around in thinly veiled wonder and amazement. He'd been following the fox's tail like he usually was, which seemed darker in shade and longer, almost dragging no matter which posture it moved in. Helpy recognized the odd differences between the Foxy model he enjoyed pestering and this new one, but in the same minute let the oddities vanish from his mind. There were more important things to do, more fun things to explore, and so off he toddled into the darkness.

The sizzle that traced the door frame did not catch his interest, either.

The soft crinkle of carpet muffled his steps as little Helpy wandered cluelessly into the pitch black room. Too dark to see! He hesitated, waiting for the lights in the back of his glass eyes to turn on. There! Much better.

Hmm.

The hall way seemed oddly familiar and yet completely new. Helpy tapped the side of his head, indicating he was thinking. Well, as much as he was able to.

Something scurried deeper in the dark, sounding like it was racing round a corner. Naturally, Helpy turned to look in the direction of the sound. Something small and yellow winked just out of sight, through the door way.

Oh! Well wasn't this a nice surprise? Someone was over there! It would be polite of him to go say hello.

Helpy blinked, his eye lights vanishing by proxy, and he heard the skuttle again. But when they reopened, a small, ragged model flopped down lifelessly, as if caught and deactivated by the light.

Helpy paused. Something in the back of his mind wiggled.

A game.

This was a game!

And that?

That was a Bonnie model! And he was a Freddy model, at least his programming told him so.

Henry had simply copied most of the data needed to get Helpy up and running. In his haste, he had perhaps overlooked a few details. Things like natural orders, preferred companions, close made relations.

Helpy clapped his tiny, brightly colored paws together. It didn't matter to him what the tiny Bonnie model looked like, though the pair of them certainly made a sight to see. One gleaming and freshly painted, shiny and chrome. The other worn and frayed and with too many teeth, too wicked looking and off putting to be anything but a tiny, horrible little nightmare.

To Helpy, all he saw was the Sameness and Familiarity.

Delighted, Helpy refocused, glancing once at the X before him in tape on the carpet.

The tiny Springtrap model's clever eyes winked at him briefly, then grinned as it waited for Helpy to move his bright eyes so it could try again.

Sometimes we make friends in the strangest of places, and yet those are the deepest connections we end up making.

After all, it's nice having a friend when you're Lost. Especially when you're lost all alone in the dark.

Mike rubbed at his face tiredly, staring at his surroundings. Everything seemed so…muzzy. Half materialized, thin, reality flickering weakly like an old monitor with a bad set of circuits.

This didn't look some place he was supposed to be. And while Mike was normally the first to explore through some unknown, forbidden place, something about this area really set him on the edge. The thick pine trees were blue, which was odd. And everything else was black, which was even odder. Other than that, there was nothing. No sounds, no light, no darkness. Every tree was wobbly and slowly waving upward, but the angle seemed off. If Mike was staring at it head on, the view might make sense. As it was, all he could manage to do was squint and try to look at everything out of the corner of his eye. And that did nothing to help his nerves.

Nothing. Not a great sign.

"…hello?" His voice wobbled, distorted and eerie. Okay. Not doing that again.

Besides, nothing answered him. He had the distinct feeling he was alone here.

And he also had an even worse feeling; that something that should be here wasn't.

Mike walked on, wary and nervous.

One of the trees in the distance was blinking, much more obnoxiously than the rest.

Mike, with all his lack of common sense and usual curiosity, headed for it.

He didn't know what else to do.

But he knew staying here was a bad idea.

Helpy and his new Bonnie model played for quite a while before Helpy heard it. The loud, powerful chime sent him scattering, breaking the last game as he headed for the security of the toy and hid behind his chair.

Plushtrap wiggled his ears, but paid no attention to the chiming of the grandfather clock. He cocked his head at Helpy, unable to talk but knowing somehow, this strange and new creature would understand him almost instinctively. There was no need to talk much. That was nice.

Helpy peeked back out, realized Plushtrap wasn't very bothered by this new noise, and so he relaxed to.

And then, naturally, he wondered at it.

Especially when it chimed again, tolling and awful.

'What did it mean?' He wondered with his expression at his new friend.

'What did what mean?' Plushtrap blinked at him. He pointed down the hall with a stubby paw, well past the marker for his game and then shrugged. 'Nothing much.'

And then he asked if Helpy didn't want to play some more. Helpy did, but he was thoroughly distracted now.

Helpy paused only a moment, before he headed for the sound. If wasn't something to be afraid of, it must be something to be excited over. Plushtrap followed behind, which Helpy thought was very nice. It was nice being the leader sometimes. Not all the time, but sometimes.

Something big and blueberry colored was stomping nearby the clock, and it glanced down at them with no humor or light in its dark gaze. It was dismissive at first, even bored, and it didn't seem to care when the old clock rung again. Up close the note was sour and creepy. The darker, bigger Bonniebot growled a little when Helpy wandered too close into its personal space, and Plushtrap quickly grabbed Helpy's paw and pulled him away.

'Bad.' Plushtrap shook his head at the little Funtime model, who blinked but glanced only once over his small shoulder.

Strange. It did look bad, though. Poorly constructed, in any case. Oh well.

Plushtrap stopped just outside a door, which was cracked a hair. This was a tempting prospect, but when Helpy headed for it, Plushtrap whined and shook his head.

'VERY bad.' Plushtrap advised with a very emphatic nod of his head, his ears flopping.

Helpy paused.

What was so bad about a door? The other Bonnie model he could maybe understand, but this…

There might be something exciting behind there!

So in he went. Plushtrap refused to follow, but Helpy hoped to see his Bonnie model again.

This room was very dark too. Helpy turned his high beams back on, just to see. He had never been in a room like this before.

Truthfully, it didn't hold much of his interest. The strange tall shapes looked boring, painted as plainly as the walls they were pushed against. There were some nicely colored toys scattered along the floor, but those weren't what drew Helpy's curiosity.

It was the black, skeletal looking creature with two faces, turning from its perch on a big flat thing that Helpy could not see the top of. That was most certainly something interesting. And familiar.

Something pinged in the back of its mind.

'How ever did you find your way into this dark place, little decoy?' The voice sounded irritated but exhausted. 'Get over here.'

Helpy obeyed. He saw no reason not to. He'd been obeying this cruel, cold creature for the better part of a week now. And it had been the one to tell him to stick close to his new night guard. Helpy thought that was good advice, although frankly he thought a lot of things were good, so perhaps he wasn't the best judge of that type of thing.

'Look.' The Little Bear was lifted without hands, and though he marveled briefly at the fun game this was, he did pause. Helpy froze and took in the sight of his new night guard, lying wilted and so very still on the big cushy square. He didn't smile or light up when Helpy was brought into view. That wasn't normal. Helpy didn't like it.

Helpy squirmed, relaxing only until he was set down and scampered the short distance to Mike's side, patting his own cheek in concern as he fretted over the unconscious man. Finally the little Funtime turned to the creature and pointed emphatically in alarm.

'I know.' The Marionette sighed when Helpy pointed with a small paw, insistent and demanding a second time.

'I've been watching the two of you. You choose his side before, when our Creator tried to call you back. I didn't have to tell you to. I suppose one of the benefits of being so new is you can resist even me, and our Creator. Or, perhaps your lack of processing power is what does it.'

The Marionette observed Helpy giving Mike's body another useless little shake, and then chittered thoughtfully, spider leg fingers tapping the side of its worn thigh.

'Then again. Knowing how things go around here, perhaps you genuinely like our night guard and that keeps you focused—or as near as you are able to—as it does myself.'

Helpy didn't offer any explanation or opinion on the matter, he just looked increasingly troubled that he couldn't get his favorite to get up and pay him attention. He even tugged on the man's pant leg, which always worked.

'I can wake him up.' The black creature's voice sounded like it would smirk if its face would stay in place to do so. Helpy's attention was immediately back on it, and it chimed in praise at the relative alertness of the flighty, airheaded little Funtime. 'But first, you need to find something for me, Little Bear.'

Its strings skated closer, tempting and enticing.

'What do you say? Will you help me~? Help Michael?'

Helpy nodded.

Perhaps it was better little Helpy didn't have much in the way of common sense. Otherwise he might have been terrified at what the creature was going to have him do. And perhaps it was better Mike wasn't awake for this, because he would have surely stopped one or both of them.

The Marionette didn't mind suicide missions provided it wasn't his night guard sent on one, after all. It leaned in close and murmured its commands, watching the bear listen and nod dutifully.

'Good. Now get going. And be quick about it.'

Off Helpy toddled, back into the darkness to do his list of tasks.

That damned clock struck four—or was it five? And time was very nearly up.

For the Marionette, yes. For his charge, absolutely.

And so for all the others. The others Mike would want to save. Would expect him to try and save.

'If I go back out there without you, I'm afraid I won't be able to stand up to Henry anymore.'

It stared at its hands, watching the frayed strings shift and wave, lifeless and limp.

A glance down at Mike showed no progress that was positive. Plenty in the wrong direction though, from the fade of the man's body to the sheet white hue across his skin, the way he seemed to sink into the bed like it was swallowing him whole. A monster all on its own.

'And if we stay here much longer you won't be able to return at all.'

The Marionette gave a single, frustrated clang of noise, sliding its inner works to grate and grind.

This was rather horrible. Having to make a choice.

'But if we were to go back out there…together.'

Things were so much easier when its Emotions weren't pursuing reliable, cold logic with every chance. And for the first time in months it could think clearly enough to ignore Henry's pull, but Mike wasn't responsive anymore and when he was he mumbled past the point of incoherency.

'I don't know if this will work, Michael.' It pealed a few warbling, off kilter notes nervously. 'Usually there's a great deal of energy involved. Consent, certainly, although I have a feeling I know your answer already. A transfer, a promise, something to seal the deal. Sweat and tears are fine, blood is preferred.'

All three were even better. The old adage wasn't just a simple quote, but good words to live by if you were such a creature like the Puppet was. Whatever he was.

'I've never done this solo before. Although I suppose if it would work with anyone…it'd be you, my night guard.'

The Marionette's fond voice slipped at the end, staring sadly at the near corpse of the man it had come back to save. Who'd done a good deal of work calling it back in the first place. And then had given himself up simply to try and fix the damaged Puppet, only it hadn't been enough. Just Gold wasn't enough.

So it was time to try something else.

'Everything will be alright, Michael.' Marion whispered, going for soothing. It watched, morbidly fascinated as its strings slithered toward the man's pulse point on his wrist, circling a few time around the skin before tightening.

'I promise.'

Somewhere, far away and absently, an old clock struck one last, final time.

The world was red now. At the time Mike didn't have an opinion on the blue trees, but now he desperate wished for the nice, calm, soothing blue to be back.

The red was too much. Too angry.

Mike stared at the large circle of blood, then realized it was probably a lake.

There was a fishing rod, and a tackle box, and a stump.

And nothing else.

Mike shivered, and tugged his jacket tighter against his frame, crossing his arms uneasily.

Something was missing here. It had been missing.

So why the hell did he feel like he was being watched?

The more he eyed the scant items near him the more his brain began to wake up. Something about them. The way they sat. Their tinted shade of gold. Looking like someone had simply set them down, got up, and walked away.

Why hadn't that soul returned?

("I need big bait for a big fish, son. Even you can comprehend that old fisherman's wisdom, eh?")

"Oh." Mike breathed, ignoring the staticy hiss that nearly replaced his voice.

"I get it now."

"Finally figured it all out, eh boy?"

Mike whirled in place, staring at the ragged, looming shape. For a second Mike stared, slack jawed. He had never seen Fredbear in person before.

But upon closer inspection, the man quickly realized it wasn't Fredbear at all.

Certainly looked the part though…

Minus all the red. And the jagged teeth. In fact, the big monstrosity looked more like Nightmare and Fredbear mashed together.

Mike watched the bear, sitting crammed awkwardly on the stump, clutching the pole in his two big mitts.

"I'm sorry to say that you have gone too deep in the code. There is no way back out."

Dread filled Mike's center.

"W-what!?" He yelped, then flinched as his voice created more pulses of noise, warbling and horrible.

The big Freddy model didn't seem surprised, nor did it even react to the grating sound.

"My name is Old Man Consequences. Come have a seat and let's fish for a while. You have nowhere else to go."

But he needed to get back! He couldn't stay here forever!

The big, shadowy fella merely gazed out onto the lake, waiting. Mike's spirits fell.

Maybe this was his end. He was pretty tired. He joked about retirement but deep down, he knew this wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind. Mike's eyes narrowed. Something…was happening. He felt it, on the edges of his subconscious.

"I have to save them." Mike finally managed. "Save your animatronics. And Michael…"

"Mm-hm."

"I have to get home, Henry." Mike murmured, speaking as soft as he could muster. He had a feeling the animatronic before him could hear anything he said regardless of his volume or place.

"Don't we all." Fredbear agreed. "Some of me needs to get back home, too. Yanno…it's awful lonely here, young man. Sure be nice to have a friend."

"Where is here?"

"Mm. Like a waiting room. A space in-between other spaces."

"Limbo." Mike sighed. "Great."

This was getting him nowhere. Frustrated, Mike sat down beside the big bear and rested his head in his hands.

"This isn't just my fault." Mike's brow furrowed as he watched the lake. "This is yours too, Henry."

"Reckon it is. What do you want me to do about it? I'm just a ghost. Barely even that." Fredbear wiggled the fishing pole. "Not much biting today."

Mike's lips pursed as he turned away, staring all around at the red tinted, horrible wooded area. He itched nervously at his wrists, then wondered why they itched in the first place.

"That friend you mentioned…it's William, isn't it?"

Beside him, the Fredbear flickered unstably, then gnashed his big teeth. The action would be unnerving if Mike's own best friend wasn't a Freddy model himself.

"What if I can get here?" Mike spoke carefully, but felt no anger directed at him. Hmm. This half of Henry seemed most wistful and glum, but at least he had some emotions aside from those two.

The old man grunted.

"You gettim' here. I keep 'im here." Fredbear's eye rolled down to study Mike. "Deal?"

Mike, despite himself, smirked.

"Deal."

"To do all that, you gotta GET outta here." The old man reminded, not meanly but firmly enough.

"Yeah…I'm working on that." Mike rubbed his hands along his jeans, suddenly self conscious.

Henry went back to fishing. Mike went back to watching.

Something low and deep reverberated far in the distance, but Mike paid it no attention. His thoughts were elsewhere.

"…there has to be some way to fly this cuckoo's nest." The odd ghostly being beside him had alluded to as much. It wasn't useable now, but it had been before. That was the trick to it, maybe? Mike had a good feeling on where Henry's missing piece went by now.

Mike instantly wished Goldy was with him, but there was no response from his Other, and there wouldn't be. He was on this own for this one, he supposed.

"Think, Schmidt. Think."

He'd been flipped back and forth so much lately he was starting to get a little sick of it all. The first time had been years ago, although this looked nothing like the Crying Child's Nightmareish world, nor did it look like the hospital that Alexander and the Puppet hid below, just on the edges of Limbo.

And there was the Fruit Maze game. That hadn't gone well, no, but it showed him Max had been less and less a willing participant. That it wasn't his fault, and that something was wrong about how much the Fazes loathed the poor kid.

Midnight Motorist had been the worst of it all, frankly. Perhaps the only one worse was poor Security Puppet's origins.

"I've been near here before. Maybe I haven't been this deep down, and maybe I'm almost stuck, but I kept making my way out." Mike paused.

("Speak the dead's name too frequently and they're liable to start poking outta their graves, and come looking for you.")

Beside the unmoving, lethargic Freddy model, Mike immediately perked up. That was it.

"Mari!" he rose from his seat, turning around to watch the strange, dead world around him.

"…hmm." Replied the disinterested Old Man, but he turned to stare down at Mike as if in prompting.

"Mari." Mike spoke again, and for a second he was sure his voice sounded clearer, as if the creature's name was scaring the fog away. "Please, c'mon buddy…One more time. You can do it."

It had done it before.

And that was when he spotted the thin, slithering trail of marionette strings weaving tiredly toward them. Unlike the last time he had seen them in the foggy, strange dream-like world, this time he recognized them. They bobbed slowly around the trees and waved softly, making Mike's throat tight as a lump appeared.

"Mari." He whispered, keeping his voice soft and careful to avoid calling anything but the one he wanted. "Come back. I need you."

"Marionette."

The strings twitched and slid in his direction, faster. Eager. Some more threaded in behind, no longer aimless and confused looking.

Mike smiled and fearlessly reached for them.

"Think you can put me back together, pal? If anyone can…it's you."

The strings, joined by their brothers, lunged at him. He was caught, fast and tight, but Mike swallowed, closed his eyes and let them yank, hard.

Old Man Consequences watched this without much excitement or emotion, staring at where the young night guard had been standing only seconds ago.

"Perhaps there was one way back out." He chuckled. Then he turned, and went back to his fishing.

"Good luck, you two." They were certainly going to need it.

One minute, he was pretty sure he was falling asleep. But like. Continuously. At first he was treading water, and that was all well and good. And then suddenly something deep within him got too tired to keep it up. And so he sank. Deeper and deeper down. Until he had no clue which way was up, until his bones seeped into a consistency between pudding and water, while his heart pounded weaker and weaker. And, really, he was so goddamn tired, what could a little rest hurt? Okay, fine. What could a lot of rest hurt? Nothing. He could admit to himself he earned some deep sleep. Freddy would come wake him up when it was time for his shift to start.

Wouldn't he?

He kind of felt like a fish, almost, way deep in the depths of a dark, cold ocean. But it was comforting and safe here.

And then suddenly, insistently, Mike felt two sharp, faint stings somewhere near his hands, and that was the only warning he got before his world was ice and fire. It hurt, but almost in a good way.

He'd been hooked, rather like a fish, and reeled in.

Air. His lungs begged, and Mike's body kicked into gear, making his muscles and limbs jerk as he gasped. His eyes were wide but he blinked rapidly, gulping down lungfuls of musty air. This of course made him break instantly into a coughing fit. How much dust was there in this—wherever the hell he was? He stared, eyeing the closet across the room and the dressers and the muzzy, faded photographs on the wall. Oh. Oh. The rest of the puzzle made sense now.

The first layer of Limbo. Toeing into the Afterlife. He'd sank a little too deep, somehow.

Mike sat up, sinking with surprise into something soft and almost comfy, then blinked, pausing when something shifted to his right, the noise faint. He couldn't see what it was, he was blind fully in his clawed up eye, and that was sort of alarming for a second. No Gold. That was right. He'd…he'd given Fredbear back. And yet these alarming memories didn't beat out the fact that when he turned warily to track the sound with his good eye, he saw the Marionette itself floating beside him.

Mike's heart skipped a beat, but in the best way possible. His shoulders drooped a little, but he collected his limbs as fast as he could muster and swung to the edge of the bed.

"Mari—" But the sight of the Puppet and the sizzle down his spine brought a fresh wave of alarm. Mike felt the panic rise as everything, absolutely everything, came flooding back to him. All of it at once was dizzying, from the restaurant to the Fazes to Max, especially up to Henry and his thirst for Gold and for revenge.

"Shit, Mar, we gotta go!" He ignored the Puppet's warning twang and instead tried to get his legs under him, scrambling upwards well before his muscles were all in agreement over such a flurry. "The gang's in trouble, we, f-fuck—"

Mike tumbled forward, bracing himself at first until he realized slender but deceptively strong, striped limbs had him. He relaxed automatically into the hold of the lithe creature, wincing at the dirt that crumbled off the previously buried Puppet. After a second though, Mike tightened his arms in a hug, blinking when he thought he heard a tiny crack, and froze.

But the noise had come from over his shoulder, not the black wooden frame that floated against him, keeping him supported and safe. Oh. Maybe Marion didn't like hugs anymore…

And then those arms tightened, and something secure warmed between them.

'You're not going to help anyone right this second, Michael.' The Marionette scolded, but it sounded relieved as Mike felt, which was nice.

Mike groused, but went obediently limp and allowed Marion to ease him back down to sit on the bed. He gripped the comforter with both hands and took a second, wincing when he felt his heart pound off-beat.

"You still got Gold?" Mike asked, but he was asking something else, too.

'I do. He is safe, and fine. You are not. You need to adjust.'

"I'll be fine, Marion," Mike protested, but it was somewhat meek. "I've never…it's just been a long time since I felt like this."

'I know.' The Puppet replied, sympathetic. 'Take a second. Things have changed.'

Mike paused, hesitating. He knew that tone. Those carefully cherry picked words. Someone was up to something. Come to think of it, his heart didn't feel too bad now, when a second ago it was absolutely going to become an issue.

The night guard stared for the first time, with a clear eye, into the face of the broken and splintered Marionette. It dawned on him then, and Mike's expression crumpled.

"Oh, god," he realized, studying the broken porcelain mask. The missing lower leg, the odd angle one of its arms seemed to fall into. The absolute mess of dirt along it's smudged face, one of its cheeks gone and a purple streak utterly invisible. Mike could trace it with his finger if he had to, though. "When you—when you died, I mean when Arthur left you…your mask was never this…"

'Broken?' mumbled Marion. 'No. It wasn't. Crawling back out of my grave was difficult. But my Creator wouldn't take no for an answer.'

Looking at the Puppet as it was, Mike thought he understood its previous, warning words.

"You're splitting in two, aren't you, Mari?" Mike deflated, shaking his head as tears pricked in his eyes. "I'm so sorry,"

The answering trickle of its music box was a good a yes as any.

Mike watched the poor thing pick and paw with its brittle claws, and his gaze melted. The self conscious little gestures at its treasured mask were so human and yet somehow still uniquely the Puppet. Even as he felt himself soften at the sight, it also made anger lick at the bottom of his heart. Henry had willingly resurrected the Marionette, and instead of repairing him had stuffed him in Lefty to hide his weakness and make the once powerful entity blend better. There was no care left, no love or consideration from its own Creator. There was no way any of that was sitting well with the prideful Puppet.

"Hey, don't turn away." Mike hushed before he realized he was doing it. "C'mon, look at me. It's not bad, I mean it's just…you just need…I dunno. Superglue? Duct tape maybe?" He tried a tiny joke, offered a friendly smile.

He was rewarded when the Marionette made a noise that was the equivalent to a human's snort of exasperation. But the warmth was there, and the hands stopped fiddling, even lowered a little bit. A trust was offered between them and Mike smiled a little in coaxing.

"C'mere, lemme see if I can fix it…"

'What are you going to do, night guard?' The Marionette snorted, but floated obediently closer into reach.

Mike leaned forward, guiding careful fingertips to hold both sides' of the creature's mask. The Marionette eyed his wrists for some reason, but Mike paid no attention to that. He was too focused on easing the busted side back up into its original place.

There were still some chips and fractures, but Mike pursed his lips, and focused. He almost stopped himself, cursing inwardly. This was a stupid idea. He didn't have Gold anymore, what was he thinking? This wouldn't work—

The mask reset into place with a faint grate of porcelain sliding against itself. It sealed. Mike froze.

"…uh…" Mike managed, and for the first time addressed the odd twin aches under his palm. He followed the Puppet's gaze, swallowing as the thin strands that floated between them caught the light of the little lamp. They led directly into him, not around or near.

"Mari…?"

'Is this alright?' The Puppet's voice was softer than Mike had ever heard. Raw, hesitant, and worried. 'Just…just for now. Until we settle this mess that I've gotten us into.'

Mike paused, then realized how his silence might be taken and he smiled earnestly.

"Sounds good. I mean, I powered Goldy for how many years by now? You're way smaller. You'll be easy." Mike joked, and he noticed the way the Marionette didn't reply with its own laughter.

'I won't be anything like Fredbear, night guard. But this way…I can stay close. You can save them.'

Mike's heart soared. Still the Puppet he had come to know and trust.

"Can you get us out of here?" Mike asked.

'I can. But not the door we came in through.'

Mike nodded, satisfied enough for the moment as he rose. The strings winked out of sight but Mike had now bout they were there.

"I have a feeling getting back won't be easy…"

'Is it ever?'

Mike sighed, then shrugged. "Seemed easy enough when I used to just…wake up." He mumbled, recalling the arcade machines.

'Goldy used to help you move through the realities much easier.'

"Mm. That explains it then."

'We need to leave the Nightmare's world to make any progress, and go back before we can go forward.'

"What, like, find a back door?" Mike was rewarded with a chime. "Awrighty."

Mike headed for the door, instantly feeling more assured when he felt the Marionette trail after him. He walked slow as he could manage, feeling his frame creak and his spine bow a bit. He scowled at nothing, pausing to stretch his arms and try and crack some joints, ease them back into place. He was surprised when he finally managed to shift a muscle and the Marionette actually warbled in relief and sagged gratefully.

"…you're right, Mari. This will be different than what I'm used to."

The Puppet rolled it's eyes but chimed in amusement.

'The more things change, the more they stay the same, night guard.'

Goddamn it's December. Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana.