Sunday, November 14, 1993
The rest of the night came and went in a blur of officers, words spoken, hospital rooms, and weariness as the morning sun crept up into the sky. Mike looked out the window as Vanna drove. He refused further treatment at Freddy's, and upon gaining permission to leave from the officers, Vanna took him to the hospital to be properly seen. Mike stared out the window, his nose properly bandaged now, and his body aching less from the painkillers they gave him. His badge once more hung at his shirt pocket. Will had picked it up and handed it to him to keep, as there was no longer a need for it. Mike still wasn't sure why he took it.
Vanna's little black Chevy cruised down the street. Mike's car remained in the Freddy's parking lot, where it would stay until he healed a little more.
"You're sure you want to do this now?" Vanna asked as they approached a streetlight. "I'm sure they'll understand if you got some rest first."
Mike shook his head, his hand running over a round bulge in his pants pocket that had been forgotten in last night's excitement. The old watch felt tight against his leg, his only proof to Jeremy's fate.
"I want them to hear it from me first," he said. "They deserve that."
Vanna bit back a yawn.
"Can we at least get some coffee?" she asked.
"Sure," Mike said quietly.
He watched the buildings and streets pass by. As soon as Vanna finished their caffeine detour, he guided her to the other end of town. Much like the path to Will's place, after a while, the shops and buildings gave way to a small neighborhood surrounding the town. They drove in near-silence as they drank their coffee. After a time, they passed a shopping center where a Laser Tag building stood prominently in the center. Mike pointedly looked away from it.
Six years ago, a new Freddy Fazbear's Pizza opened where that Laser Tag stood now, and closed within two weeks of opening.
Vanna's hand found his long enough to give it a gentle squeeze, before she made a turn at his direction. At the next red light, she chugged down the rest of her coffee. After that, they entered the nearby neighborhood, passing small two-storied houses and weaving through the blocks until they came to one Mike hadn't seen since last Christmas.
Rose bushes that since shed their peach petals for the upcoming winter surrounded the old house in a thorn fence. Both the front of the yard and the side advance from the driveway sported white gates leading up to the graying, lavender two-story house. The old porch swing drifted back and forth behind the white porch railing. After debating for a moment about whether or not to park on the curb, Mike directed Vanna to the driveway.
For a long moment, they sat there in silence. Mike let the heat numb him a little as he stared at the garage door, bracing himself for what needed to be done.
"...Want me to come with?" Vanna asked.
Mike blinked a few times, then took a deep breath as he considered it. After a moment, he nodded. Vanna let him get out first before she killed the engine and followed, letting him take the lead.
The heat died on Mike's face as he stepped into the wind, slamming the door behind him. He pushed past the gate, holding it open for Vanna before he slowly made his way up the stone path heading to the front door. The porch steps creaked under their feet, worn and weakening. Taking another breath, Mike braced himself again. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets as a few second thoughts crept into his mind.
Vanna took initiative and reached over his shoulder to ring the doorbell.
It took a moment before they heard footsteps approach, and a soft feminine Irish voice call out, "Coming, coming!"
Mike forced his gaze forward when the deadbolt released on the other side. He sucked in another breath at the click of the latch, and let it go as the front door started to open. Vanna remained slightly behind him, her hand barely grazing his arm.
A soft, surprised gasp brought Mike's attention back to the now open door.
He didn't even see Moira at first, only winced as her arms tightly encircled his body in a loving embrace. The warm scents of her perfume mingled with the thick scented candles she kept everywhere that made the whole house smell like vanilla and apples. He saw flecks of brown and silver hair against his neck, and the pink terry cloth robe at her back. Once the shock wore off, Mike shifted his arms just enough to return it, holding her just as tightly.
He missed her too.
"Oh, M-Michael, love," she whispered, choking back emotion. "I didn't expect to-to see you this soon."
Mike didn't say anything as his brain struggled to process a sea of thoughts and emotions that struggled to find shore. Moira ran a hand through his hair, then looked up, noticing her foster son hadn't come alone.
"...And who's this?"
Vanna awkwardly hung back a little, having never actually met any of Mike's family in the few years she'd known him, until the other night. She lifted a hand in a faint wave.
"Hey, Mrs. Fitzgerald," she said, coming right out with it. "I'm Vanna."
Moira let go of Mike and craned her neck up to see her. She forced up a smile.
"Oh, hello, hello!" she said. "Michael's told me a bit about you. Didn't expect you to be so tall, but aren't you a bonnie one!"
Vanna shifted her foot against the porch and forced up a smile at the compliment, choosing to ignore Moira's naively ironic wording.
"Thanks," she said quickly.
"Ma," Mike said, "we came because we have something to tell you."
"I'm sure you do," Moira said, cheerfully, giving a knowing glance to Vanna, before turning back to Mike.
She let out another soft gasp as she took him in again, before moving a hand to his cheek, gently tilting his head to examine his broken nose, and the accompanying bruise along his cheekbone.
"Michael, what happened to your face?"
"It's related to why I'm here," Mike said. "...Can we come in?"
Moira's smile dropped upon hearing that. She nodded quickly as she pulled away and took his hands to lead him inside. Mike let her, moving like a ghost as he stepped into the foyer, with Vanna right behind him. They took it in as Moira got the door.
The main hall stretched before them, with a small altar to the Virgin Mary against one wall. Family pictures dotted the hall on both sides, leading into the dining room. Most of them showed Mike and Jeremy in various stages of childhood. The most prominent one stood across from the altar, a Sears portrait of the two of them when they were both in high school, their smiling faces all but dominating the hall.
To the right, Vanna caught parts of the living room in the corner of her eye, particularly the phone on the wall marking the midpoint between the living room and the foyer, and parts of a bookshelf. Beside her, Mike felt his eyes drawn to the stairs on the left, heading up to the bedrooms. A chill ran through him with the finality that one of them would always remain empty.
"Michael?"
Moira's voice pulled him out of his thoughts and back to reality. Mike turned back to his foster mother. Her face hovered between worry and relief, her lips twitching as they forced up a smile, her brown eyes shifting as she looked him over. Her short brown hair bobbed around her face and grazed her shoulders, and her floral nightdress, pink robe, and starts of wrinkles in her face marked her as a warm, proper matron.
"Is everything all right?" Moira asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
Mike blinked a few times as she reached for him. Before he could answer, her fingers gently went for his shoulders.
"Here, love," she said. "Let me take your coat."
Mike didn't have it in him to fight her as Moira quickly divested it from his shoulders. He turned away from her so she could pull it away and caught a glimmer of gold in the corner of his eye. Mike remained turned away from her so she wouldn't see the Freddy's badge...or the blood still caked down the front of his shirt.
Maybe he should have taken Vanna's advice to come later. At least he could have cleaned up first.
Moira then held out an expectant hand to Vanna, who shrugged out of her own coat and handed it over. Vanna watched the older woman's eyes widen as they gaped at her chest.
"What?" she asked. "I know they're kind of big, but-"
Her eyes followed Moira's to the gold embroidery depicting a bear and a bunny. A few small scattered bloodstains darkened the already red fabric.
"...Oh," Vanna said, quickly understanding. "That. Long story. Kind of why we're here."
Before Moira could say another word, another voice called from the dining room, this one gruffer, and with a much thicker Irish brogue.
"I hear that right? Michael's stopped by?"
The rustle of a newspaper and the sliding of a chair followed it, and then careful footsteps accompanied with a cane.
"Yes, Ronan," Moira called back, quickly breaking her gaze from Vanna as she hung the coats in a closet just under the stairs, "and he's brought a friend with him!"
Mike glanced over his shoulder as Ronan Fitzgerald made his way down the front hall. Unlike his wife, who aged gracefully, Ronan stooped over like a large, thin vulture, with no hair on his head save for attempted wisps of a beard, and deeper wrinkles that made him look older than he really was. His sharp blue eyes immediately honed in on his younger son, his wrinkling mouth soft, but firm under his bony nose.
"'Bout time," he said, hobbling over to Mike.
Mike tried to remain turned away, but found himself pulled around a little as Ronan reached an arm around his shoulders to give him a quick squeeze.
"We missed you, boyo," Ronan told him.
Mike awkwardly crossed his arms, hoping to hide the blood and the badge for at least another moment.
"I missed you too, Da," Mike said, quietly, turning slightly away.
Fortunately, Ronan didn't notice his son's clothing or awkward stance as his eyes fell upon Vanna.
"And who's this Amazonian angel?" he asked, offering a hand to her.
"Vanna," Mike said, quickly. "She's my best friend."
Vanna took Ronan's hand and gave it a very gentle shake, fearing she might break him otherwise. He returned it with a firm grip that legitimately surprised her due to his frail frame.
"Possibly a bit more, eh?" Ronan asked, giving Vanna's hand a quick kiss before letting it go.
Vanna quickly laughed it off as she took her hand back.
"Just friends," she insisted. "Really."
Like Mike, she was grateful for Ronan's obliviousness. Vanna glanced to Mike, and recognized the numb look on his face, the hesitance to ruin this nice moment with bad news. She quickly cleared her throat.
"A-anyway," she said, "you'll probably want to sit down for this. It's…"
She searched for a proper word to gently get the point across. "Grim," came up first, and she flipped her mental rolodex for a better one. Before a new word could be found, Moira gasped again, stepping up to Mike as she finally noticed his bloodied shirt.
"God in heaven, Michael!" she exclaimed, turning him to better look at the stains. "What in Mary's good name happened to you?"
"I'm fine, Ma," Mike said, keeping his arms crossed over the badge. "Really!"
He nodded towards the living room.
"Can we talk?" he asked. "It's important."
Moira nodded, but caught a glimmer at his chest. She reached to push his hand away. Mike hesitated at first, but gave in, knowing it was going to come out sooner or later. Might as well rip it off and be done.
"Michael, what's...oh my god!"
Moira shoved a hand over her mouth as she recognized the smiling bear. Mike saw the gears in her mind turn as she looked between Vanna and Mike, her other hand going to Ronan's shoulder. Soon enough, they would piece together where he had been and what he had done.
That he could have shared his brother's fate, and possibly dragged his new friend with him.
"Michael, you didn't-!" Moira stammered.
Mike looked away from her, his arms tightening over his chest. Ronan stepped forward to get a better look, his own wrinkled face molding into a look of horror.
"Are you mad, lad?" he exclaimed in utter disbelief. "The hell are you-? After what happened?"
Vanna quickly stepped in.
"We know," she said, moving in front of Mike. She defensively held up her hands in an attempt to diffuse the situation. "It's what we came here to talk about."
Moira's grip tightened on her husband's shoulder. She shook like a leaf caught in the wind, but managed a nod. Somewhere under the shock and disbelief, she remembered her manners as a hostess. She let go of Ronan, and shooed him towards the living room. Ronan's mouth wordlessly moved up and down as he tried to think of something to say, before he nodded to his wife and quickly hobbled into the living room. Moira then gestured for Mike and Vanna to follow.
Vanna entered next, with Mike trailing behind. The living room remained as cozy and welcoming as he remembered: a plush green couch with matching recliners on either side, a cherry wood coffee table, rich green curtains over the front windows. The boxy TV stood on a cherry wood cabinet that hid the VHS player and their small collection of movies. Bookshelves lined the back wall, interspersed with the family library, Moira's trinkets, and photos of their family.
Every spare space held pictures, from the side tables beside the arm chairs, to the walls and the top of the TV, all of them records of proud parents and their two sons, and even a few of Mike with his birth parents. By choice, Mike kept his original surname, but as the room and the rest of the house showed, he was as much of a Fitzgerald as any of them.
Ronan gave a small gesture to the couch. Mike obediently took a seat on the middle cushion. Moira sat down beside him, her hands resting gracefully in her lap. Vanna took Mike's other side as Ronan settled himself in his favorite armchair by his wife.
"...What's this about, then?" he managed, finally finding his words again as he rested both hands on his cane.
Mike kept his own gaze on his hands in his lap, his fingers shifting for something to do. Everything suddenly hurt again as his stomach tore itself apart. Golden rabbits and bloodied springs filled his mind, his promise to Jeremy right before the suit shut down. Mike's lips parted, but his tongue remained still, wanting to move, but suddenly lacking the strength.
He wanted to tell you goodbye.
The words hung in his mind. One simple phrase, six easy words. But getting them to pass his lips felt impossible.
Mike shuddered. He felt Vanna's hand at his back.
"...Want me to start?" she asked, quietly.
He shook his head. While he appreciated the offer, it wasn't her place. Mike forced in another breath.
"...Ma," he said, after a moment, "Da...I…"
"Yes, Michael?" Moira asked, trying to keep her own voice steady.
"What is it, boyo?" Ronan gently urged.
Mike shook his head.
"I don't know where to start," he confessed. "Just...I found Jeremy. Or what...happened to him, at least."
Mike knew the silence that followed. The shifting of clothes as Moira and Ronan looked at each other in disbelief, the knowing looks they undoubtedly gave. Moira took his hand, and he let her. Her tight grip betrayed her soft words.
"...What happened, love?"
She tried to keep her tone hopeful. He caught the barely hidden note of need and desperation. Ronan stayed quiet, but Mike felt his tension, and saw his foster father's grip on his cane in the corner of his eye. They gave him time to find the right words to say, to be comfortable. But there never would be the right words for this, nor comfort from the knowledge of their older son's fate.
"...There was a suit," Mike said, at last. "No one knew it was there, not even the managers. It was found by accident."
"A suit?" Ronan asked. "Like for one of those animals?"
"Yeah," Vanna confirmed. "Except this one wasn't just built for an animatronic."
She looked to Mike for a cue to continue or not. Mike just nodded in agreement.
"It was a costume too," he said, "and whoever hid it…i-it was empty. Mostly. There were...stains inside. On the mechanical parts. They looked like rust, but..."
Mike shifted from Vanna's grip and stood up just long enough to reach into his pocket. He clutched the watch in his fist as he walked over to Ronan.
"This was caught inside it," he said, opening his hand to reveal its gruesome treasure.
Mike carefully placed the watch in Ronan's hand. Ronan took the hint immediately, and examined the watch. The color drained from his face when he took in the blood spatters, the silver markings, the distinct etches in the silver rim around the glass. A haunted sound crawled out of his throat when he turned it to the back and read the initials: M. F.
There was no mistaking it. He had given it to Jeremy as an heirloom for his tenth birthday, and Jeremy never took it off since.
"...My da's watch," he whispered. "Da Morgan's-"
He shakily held the watch out to his wife, out of fear he'd drop it. Moira gently took it from his hands, and looked it over herself. She bit down to keep her jaw still. Her lips trembled as she handed it back to Mike, unable to look at it beyond base confirmation.
Mike couldn't face either of them. He clasped the watch in his hand again, only for Moira to put hers over it. Her other hand went to her temples, her fingers covering her eyes. Mike felt the tremors in her arm as her shoulders shook. Moira bit her lips in an attempt to keep back sobs as she put the details together. Tears trailed down her cheeks as she tightened her grip on Mike's hand. In his armchair, Ronan simply clutched his cane, so tightly that the color drained from his knuckles. His mouth hung open in horror and disbelief, and his eyes started to glimmer, which he forcibly kept back.
Vanna reached over Mike's lap to put a hand on Moira's.
"...I'm sorry," she whispered, trying not to choke up herself. "It's all that was found of him."
Moira looked up at her with a nod, then turned away. Ronan's chair creaked as he pushed himself up. He immediately knelt down in front of his wife, pulling her into his arms. His own lips were tight, his eyes vacant, devoid of any emotion. Moira pulled her hand from under Vanna's to cling to her husband. Ronan kissed Moira's forehead, then looked up at Mike, a sorrowful look on his face. Without a word, Ronan offered a hand to him.
Before Mike could react, he found himself pulled into the embrace too, falling to the floor on one knee to be closer to his foster parents. Like before, he took a moment to get over the shock, before he placed his arm at Ronan's back. Moira shifted away from her husband, only to pull Mike to her, her lips finding the top of his head.
"You leave that place, Michael," she whispered, a kiss puncturing every other word. "You hand in that badge tomorrow, and-"
"M-Ma!" Mike said, firmly. "It's...it's over."
He felt her lips in his hair again. She ran her hand over his arm as she spoke.
"Good!" Moira whispered. "I lost one son to that damned, horrible place. I won't be losing the other!"
Moira moved her lips to his forehead, giving him one more kiss before she rested her head over his, her arms a protective vice around him. Ronan let the both of them go, before he used his cane to pull himself back onto his feet. He glanced to Vanna, who had quietly remained in her seat to allow the Fitzgerald family a chance to properly mourn for their lost. He gave a soft gesture to her. Vanna carefully stood and came over. Ronan reached up to put an arm around her shoulders. Vanna took the hint and stooped down a little to let him.
"Thank you," he whispered.
Vanna reached up to wipe her eyes, and gave him a soft nod. Mike managed to slip out of Moira's arms. He carefully found his way back to his seat on the couch, though he let his foster mother take his hand, knowing her need to have him near her after hearing what became of her eldest.
"It's why we came," Mike said. "I wanted to tell you first, before Da got the evening paper. I...I wanted you to hear it from me."
He squeezed Moira's hand, then looked over to Ronan.
"I can't tell you much about the case," he said, softly, "but I can tell you with absolute certainty that the murderer was found, and the police got a confession. Jeremy will get justice, and so will his other victims."
Ronan made his way back to his chair.
"The devil take him," he said, carefully lowering himself into the seat, "the same way he took my son."
Vanna snerked a little.
Aunt Bonnie tried…
She quickly played it off as a cough.
"...Is that why your nose is broke?" Moira asked, gesturing to Mike's face.
Mike nodded, and braced himself for Moira's inevitable fussing over him.
"He tried to do the same to me," he said, as his foster mother moved some of his hair to look at a bruise on his forehead that had otherwise been hidden, "but we were prepared for him. It was worth it to take him down."
Moira made a soft noise and continued to look him over. Mike gently pushed her hand away when she got too close to the bruise on his cheekbone. He gestured to his shirt.
"This is mostly from my nose," he said, trying to be somewhat assuring. "The rest is just bruising."
"Looks like he beat you pretty bad," Ronan observed.
"Should've seen him," Mike said with a smirk. "I can still walk."
"You can't take all the credit," Vanna said. "I pummeled him with a chair."
She pondered a moment.
"The first time, anyway."
That sent Ronan into a small fit of laughter. Moira simply tutted and went back to fussing over Mike.
"Always were a stubborn fool," Ronan said, shaking his head with a smile, "and you always had a knack for finding trouble."
"Learned it from you, Da," Mike shot back.
"Just continuing what your father started," Ronan retorted.
Mike smirked.
"Isn't that the truth."
"And no matter what trouble you found," Moira said, "Jeremy almost always got you out of it, bless him."
Mike winced as she found a particularly nasty bruise on his arm. He sobered a little.
"...He did it one last time," he said, quietly.
Moira looked up at him.
"What do you mean?"
Mike glanced to his foster parents. He felt Vanna take his hand, and immediately felt gratitude at the strength that came with it.
"It's...going to sound crazy," he said, softly, "but...ever since I found the watch, it was..."
He hesitated, unsure of how to explain the strange happenings at Freddy's and how the ghosts spoke with him and Vanna. Mike's grip tightened on Vanna's hand as he thought of how to best put it. He glanced up and caught a picture of Jeremy on top of the TV set, and near it, a small ceramic scroll with a poem about angels written on it.
In that moment, he knew what to say.
"...It was like he was there with me," Mike whispered. "Guiding me."
He looked back to Ronan and Moira.
"Ever since that suit was discovered," he whispered, "I...I had dreams."
Moira's fingers found their way through his hair, fixing it as best she could.
"...Dreams, love?" she asked, gently.
"Yeah," Mike said. "Dreams."
He ran his thumb over the watch. His other hand gripped Vanna's.
"Dreams that...he was trapped, and calling for help," Mike continued. "For me. And every time I went back to Freddy's, I felt a presence. Something pointing me in the right direction to...find out what happened."
Mike felt his heart sink.
"...I went looking for him," he whispered, "and found his fate. He needed me to know. And that's not even the weirdest part."
Ronan and Moira both looked at each other, then back to Mike. Ronan silently nodded for him to continue. Mike gestured to his face, then his shirt.
"The asshole who did this," he said, quietly, "he almost succeeded in taking me out."
Moira's hands found themselves holding back another gasp. Mike just nodded.
"I got away," he said, quickly trying to assure her. "He chased me down the hall. I thought I was done for, just waiting for him to catch up...and then I heard metal footsteps."
He held out the watch again.
"That same suit where I found this? It came running down the hall and pulled him away from me."
Ronan looked to the watch, then back to Mike.
"The hell, lad!" he gaped. "How in the blazes-?"
"To be a little fair," Vanna quickly pitched in, "those robots do have some pretty good A.I. programming for things designed to entertain children."
"Y-yeah," Mike said, taking her lead. "I mean, I've seen them do weird shit when they roam freely at night. So maybe...maybe the suit itself remembered something he did, and had enough intelligence to be really pissed about it, and I just got lucky."
He shuddered again.
"But I...I really think, at least for that moment, it was Jeremy trying to prevent history from repeating itself."
Moira nodded quickly.
"Did it...do anything else?" she asked. "Say anything?"
Mike shook his head.
"It lost power, and...everything that happened after is kind of a mess," he said, mostly to avoid going into any further detail. "I can't explain half the shit that went on last night, but...that, I remember clearly."
"That sounds-" Ronan started, his tone clearly scrutinizing what he just heard.
"-Just like him," Moira quickly interrupted.
She held a note of scrutiny in her voice as well, but knew enough to let this go for the moment.
"A guardian angel."
Mike nodded and looked back at the watch in his hand. He thought of the golden rabbit, the ghostly pupils behind the silver discs, the promise he made.
"...I had one more dream last night," he said, looking back to his foster parents. "Sometime in the hospital. He was...he was standing before me. Smiling."
Mike set the watch down on the coffee table, then pulled his hand from Vanna's. He knelt down between Moira and Ronan and took each of their hands.
"...He thanked me for finding him," he said, quietly, trying to keep his voice steady, "and he told me...to tell you goodbye for him."
Moira gripped his hand tightly and pulled it up to her face. She nodded, her body trembling again.
"...M-my boy," she whispered. "My Jeremy…"
Vanna took Mike's vacated seat to sit beside Moira. She gently ran a hand over her back. Mike looked at Ronan. His foster father's grip was just as tight, his face vacant once more. The few hairs barely passing for a beard trembled as his lips parted slightly. Mike just slowly nodded to him, then glanced behind Ronan, out of the living room to the stairs.
The feeling of finality came back, stronger now that the rest of the family knew the truth.
Empty bedrooms, one that still saw life a few times a year, and the other cold and empty, much like a tomb.
Mike turned back to his foster parents.
"...I'm sorry," he whispered.
"For-for what, Michael?" Moira asked, reaching up to wipe her eyes.
"That…"
He trailed off, unsure of what else to say.
"...Michael," Ronan said, gently, "we know this isn't easy for any of us. And you…"
He gently gestured to Mike's face.
"...You took risks to find out the truth and bring it back to us."
Ronan gave him a tight smile.
"It's going to hurt, but...I think your Ma and I long since accepted he wouldn't come back. The question now is...have you?"
Mike let the question sink in. Jeremy told him to let go, but this had been a part of him for so long, he wasn't sure he wanted to. He took a breath as he cleared his thoughts.
"I think...now that I have answers...I finally feel like I can try to. It's what he wants."
"Michael," Moira whispered, "that's all Ronan and I ever wanted for you."
"I know, Ma."
Mike forced up a smile.
"I've stopped running," he said, quietly, "and it feels so good to breathe."
Ronan squeezed his son's hand.
"We're glad you came, Michael," he said, quietly. "I know it's been hard for you to let this go. You already lost enough before you came to us. And...as much as it hurt that you pushed away, I think you needed to. You needed distance to figure out how to find peace."
He forced up something resembling a smile. His eyes sparkled with flecks of moisture. Ronan then looked up to Vanna.
"And you too, Vanna," he said, his tone lifting. "I'm happy Michael has someone to give him a good boot to the buttocks when we can't. Keep his head on straight."
Vanna smirked a little.
"Did since the day we met," she said.
"Michael's always been good at finding trouble," Moira said, reaching up to wipe her eyes, "but he always seems to pick up good friends along the way."
"Tall ones, at that," Ronan observed. "Man or woman, you've got a type, Michael. Maybe one day, you'll bring one home."
"Da!"
"And straight out say what kind of friend they are."
"Da!"
"Well, it's the truth, isn't it?"
Vanna didn't bother to hold back her laughter. Mike stood and crossed his arms, and while his cheeks briefly gained a pink tinge, even he couldn't hold back a smile.
"Yes, it's true I like both," he muttered. "And it's also true that Vanna's just a friend, and that's the kind of friend she'll always be."
"Wouldn't have it any other way," Vanna said.
"...I was about to start breakfast when you dropped by," Moira said as she pushed herself up from the couch. "Would you like to stay for a bit?"
"We'd love to," Vanna said.
"We've got some catching up to do," Ronan said, getting up himself, "and a 'friend' of yours to get to know."
He glanced to Vanna, then gave a knowing look to Mike. Mike frowned.
"Yes. Friend. As in, 'not dating'," he said.
He followed his foster parents into the dining room. Ronan chuckled.
"That's what I said about your Ma."
"Da!" Mike exclaimed. "I'm serious!"
"I'm really not into boys," Vanna said, trying to urge them off the subject.
"Jeremy wasn't really into girls, either," Moira said with a shrug.
"Neither am I," Vanna replied. "I've never found either attractive at all."
"Oh," Moira said, a little confused. She quickly pulled back her cheerful demeanor. "Well, whatever makes you happy, dear. How do you like your eggs?"
Will sat at his desk in his Fazbear museum, going through some of the photo albums. After he and Waylon finished what they needed for the investigation, he came right home and passed out. Now he was awake again and trying to decompress and process the night's events, particularly the resolved cases of his niece and nephew. An empty dinner plate and two empty beer bottles sat at the edge of the desk. One more sat half-full and untouched in the last half hour. Bonnie's wedding album and the Fredbear's album were both open before him.
He looked over the moments of his niece and nephew captured in time, in their white wedding clothes and smiles and hopes for the future. In the second album, his hand ran over the picture of Bonnie and her nieces. Will's lips trembled as he forced up a smile.
"It's over now," he whispered.
The doorbell rang. Will glanced up, then pushed himself from his desk. He headed upstairs, to the landing between the floors. When he pulled the door open, he saw the red coat first, then a plastic shopping bag held in olive-gold hands. He glanced up to his unexpected guest.
"...Hey, Uncle Will," Vanna said, a bit nervously. "I…"
She quickly shoved the bag towards him.
"Sorry I couldn't explain before," she said, "but it's clean, and I even ironed it for you."
Will gently took the bag, then turned back to her.
"Wasn't expectin' it back this soon," he said.
"I would have called," Vanna explained, "but I realized I didn't get your number."
"Don't worry 'bout it," Will said.
He smiled, and made a welcoming gesture.
"Since you're here, why don't you come on in? I was just lookin' through some of Bon's albums. Got some good stories to go with 'em."
Vanna smiled and stepped over the threshold.
"...I'd like that," she said, quietly.
Will got the door behind her.
"Got one more matter of business while we're at it," he said as he led her downstairs.
"What is it?"
"Bon did everythin' she could for you and your sister," Will explained. "Includin' investing in your futures."
He went into the Fazbear museum and over to the closet. Will reach for the top shelf and pulled down a lock box. Vanna watched as he set it on an empty place on the desk and dug through his keys to unlock it. She curiously stepped closer.
The box contained several documents, including an updated copy of the deed. Will thumbed through them, until he found what he was looking for.
"You're older'n twenty-one, right?" Will asked with a wink.
"Twenty-seven," Vanna confirmed.
"Then I can give you this."
Vanna took the paperwork and looked it over. Her eyes bulged when she realized she held the documents for a trust fund, and more than that, the initial amount.
"She...holy fuck..."
Will smiled.
"Always hoped I'd run into you," he said. "Put the last of Bon's wishes to rest."
Vanna simply nodded as she stared at the papers. Her mind went to her unfinished projects at home, classes to resume, being able to quit working at The Sanctuary…
The papers crinkled in her tight grip. Vanna tightly hugged Will around his neck.
"Thank you," she whispered. "For everything."
Will smiled and returned it. He gently patted her back, then let her go.
"Now, I heard you wanted some stories."
Vanna pulled away. She wiped her eyes and nodded.
"From the beginning," she said.
Will nodded and pushed the albums on the desk aside, before he reached to get another from the shelf.