Michael had been out in the yard not particularly doing anything when Lefty came lumbering out of the woods. In summer, he spent a lot of time outside though now it was not just for relaxing, as he kept watch for Lefty. He was dozing off when he heard the crunching of leaves, bolting up as his survival instincts told him the worst.

To his immense relief it was only Lefty emerging from the trees, looking no worse for wear. He bolted up with a grin and sprinted inside, crying as he did, "Uncle Henry! Lefty's back!"

Charlie woke slowly as her lullaby faded. She glanced through her captor's eyes and her mechanics constricted. This was her father's workshop, she'd recognize it anywhere. It was the location of many fond memories. She could remember watching in rapt attention as he worked on the first Freddy. It was downright poetic that one of the first things she spotted was a large blueprint of a Freddy iteration.

"See, right to the workshop like we programmed him to!"

She nearly jolted in terror. That voice—!

Wait no. It wasn't quite as rough and the accent wasn't quite as prominent. It still held a grumbly quality but it wasn't quite as threatening. Was that...Michael?

"Amazing! Let's get him opened up!"

And that...that was her father's voice. He stopped in front of her, a warm smile on his face. She could see the grey streaks in his nearly ginger hair and the crinkled skin around his eyes but it was undoubtedly her father. He reached for the bear and began to push buttons on it until it droned, "Extract Directive completed," and opened up, letting her go.

Finally, she was free! There was her father, beaming with such happiness. And looking over his shoulder...who was that? They didn't look right, no not at all! Like a spring, she coiled and leapt at the unknown intruder!

The intruder cried, "Charlie no!" right as she collided with him and knocked him to the floor.

"Charlie stop!" her father cried but she was already throttling the stranger over the head as she trilled a war cry.

She yelped as her father forcibly pulled her off of him, "Charlotte! That's just Michael!"

"No it's not!" she insisted, "Looks nothing like him! He's purple!"

"Well, that's not my fault!" "Michael" cried indignantly as he scrambled to his feet and to the door of the workshop.

Henry shot him a helpless look before pointing to the house, "Mike, go to the house. I'll sort this out!"

"Michael" didn't seem to have any qualms about that, sprinting away. Once he was out of sight, Henry let her go. Charlie decided to worry about the intruder later in favor of throwing her arms around her father, "Daddy!"

The look that came over his face spoke so much; a mix of relief and joy all at once. He returned the embrace in a bear hug and murmured, "Charlotte. I missed you so much."

"I missed you too," she buried her head into his shoulder and they held the embrace. For one moment, there was no looming threat, no master plan. Just a father and daughter reuniting after far too long.

Henry pulled away first, regret flooding his eyes, "I'm so sorry, baby. For everything. I couldn't be there when it mattered," his voice caught, "I took my eyes off you once and this happened…"

"Daddy, it's not your fault," she protested, grabbing his arm.

He looked back, his eyes teary, "Sweetie. It feels like I could have prevented all this."

"What could you have done?" she murmured.

"I…," he looked away, "I don't know. But I should have known."

He shook his head, "I shouldn't put this all on you. Michael didn't know and him and William were always close. If he didn't know, no one would have."

She nodded in agreement, "William duped everyone."

"Yes," Henry shifted the subject, "We should head on in but you can't attack Michael."

"That's not Michael."

He sighed deeply. He wasn't sure what it was that prevented her from seeing Michael as himself. Confusion as a spirit, deep distrust or maybe just the fact he didn't look like he did in life? He had thought Michael held enough resemblance to his alive self but he guessed not. He suggested, "Say, Cassidy is here. Would you listen to him?"

She nodded vigorously, "Of course! He'd know!"

He laughed, more amused by that or anything, and led her on inside. Once inside, he motioned her to stay put while he left upstairs. While he as gone, she let herself take in the living room.

It looked exactly as it had before she died. There was the same couch with the same yellow throw blanket thrown over the back which she remembered cuddling in as she watched the morning cartoons. The TV was new but the bear figurines set atop it weren't. All the family photos were even left on the wall. She drifted to the wall, looking at one where her father had her hoisted onto his shoulder while she laughed.

Something inside her tightened. Her own face looked so...alien. She couldn't fathom the flushed, warm face to be her own. She found herself touching her mask. It wasn't warm. Just dead, sterile ceramic.

"Charlie!"

She turned and perked when she found Cassidy zipping on over in spirit form. He came to a stop in front of her and she cried, "Cassidy!" trying to hug him only for her arms to phase through, "Oh. Oops."

He shot her a sad smile, "You get used to it. Uncle Henry said I should tell you about Michael."

"He said that man was Michael but...he doesn't look like him."

"He really doesn't," he agreed, "But he is Michael. A lot has happened that you don't know about. It's better if you hear some of it from him."

She internally scowled but agreed, "Alright. Go get him."

Once retrieved, Michael slunk down the stairs, all anxiety and wariness. He came to the couch and slumped on it. "So whatcha wanna know?" he asked.

"Cassidy says you're Michael," she jerked her head to Cassidy who was hovering somewhere between the pair, like he'd be able to stop Charlie if she decided to tackle him again.

"Yep."

"So why are you purple?!"

He stared then deadpanned, "My sister gutted me like a fish and wore me around like a suit."

Charlie gasped. Henry grumbled and cuffed him over the head, "Mike!"

"What!" he threw his arms in the air, "It's what happened!"

"Would it kill you to have some tact?!"

"Probably!"

There was no mistaking that kind of dry sarcasm and willingness to bicker! "Oh Michael!" she tackled him, this time in a hug.

He returned the hug with one arm, "It was the bickering, wasn't it?"

"Oh, totally."

Of course, it was indeed him. Up close she could see certain features that remained: the shaggy burgundy hair, the thin scar across his nose, the same amused expression. "I'm sorry," she apologized, "I don't know what I was thinking."

"Not the first time my appearance has gotten me in trouble," he paused, "Who did you think I looked like?"

"I don't know but you didn't look like yourself!"

"Considering the last time you saw me, I was what...a teenager?"

"You still look a little like one," she poked fun at him and he gasped, "...you wound me."

She chuckled and he smiled as he relaxed, "Can't blame you anyway. I've seen better days."

She looked from him to her father, looking at the pair with a smile, then Cassidy who just seemed happy everyone was getting along. "I think we all have," she admitted.

Henry cut their reunion as he said, "Michael, why don't you show Charlie to her room?"

"I know where my room is at!" she cried, shooting off of Michael and up the stairs, a surprised Michael in pursuit.

Once he made it upstairs he found her floating in the middle of the room, just...staring. He stopped beside her and frowned deeply at her solemn silence. But he didn't push her, only lingering until she was ready to talk.

"Dad really didn't change anything," she murmured.

"No, he really didn't. He let me stay in here when I first came here. I was surprised about that."

He paused and added, somewhat sheepishly, "I hope you don't mind that."

She laughed, "Why would I?"

"Er, well…" he laughed along with her, "I don't know."

She sat on the end of her bed, suddenly solemn once more as she soaked in the space. There was no exaggerating how little it changed. There was Theodore even, sitting on the night table. She reached over and grabbed him, hugging him to herself. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend she was a little girl once more ecstatic over the new friend her father made for her.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Michael sitting beside her. "We weren't that close before," she pointed out.

"I was too old...and a jackass."

"I never said that!"

He shot her a grin, "I'm not saying you did. I am. Because I was a right bloody jackass."

She shook her head at him. There was no arguing it. Once more there was silence as she played with Theodore's frayed ear. Then she broke it, "Cassidy forgave you," it wasn't a question but a statement of fact.

She could tell she caught him off-guard by the sharp inhale he made. Once he regained his composure, he said, "He did. You knew?"

She nodded, "That night, I, er...became this we talked. We talked a lot after. Anyway, he got very angry with your father and less angry at you."

"I mean, what Dad did was terrible but it's not like what I did was good."

She looked at him to find his gaze fixed to the pine-green carpet. She murmured, "It was an accident."

"I know that," his tone was agitated, irritated she told him something he knew, or perhaps, something he had heard innumerable times before, "I should have known better."

"But you didn't mean to," she said, then paused, "Cassidy forgave you but you haven't forgiven yourself."

He was silent and she thought it was his trademark stubbornness shining though. Then his whole body went slack as he hung his head, "That obvious, huh?"

"I'm good at reading emotions," she said, "You should consider forgiveness for yourself."

"I shouldn't be putting this on you. You've dealt with enough."

"I've dealt with worse."

He shot up, throwing his arms in the air, "That means you shouldn't have to!"

She stared him down and he held the gaze, stubborn and defiant. She won out and he collapsed, propping his head on his hand. "Fine. I just...I still don't feel like I deserved his forgiveness. I don't know if I ever will. Maybe when all this is over, when Dad is gone, I will finally feel I deserve it."

She looked at him, suddenly very small rather than the bombastic and rebellious figure she remembered. "Oh, Michael…" she murmured, throwing one arm over him, hoping to bring her cousin some comfort.

After a while, he straightened back up, "Alright, I got to vent to you, now you vent to me."

She looked at him quizzically, "Excuse me?"

He grinned, "S'only fair. There's nothing you feel like you can't tell your dad? Though, maybe you'd feel more comfortable with Cass, you guys are closer in age…"

"...it feels so weird being here and I don't like it."

Michael looked back at her, suddenly attentive as she continued, "I see the pictures of Dad with that little girl. I'm here in that little girl's room. I remember being that little girl but...I can't fathom being her."

"Christ, that's a lot," Michael brushed his fingers through his hair, "I can't say I know exactly how that feels but I understand."

"How does it feel looking at old pictures of yourself?"

"...I get angry. Because it's not fair this happened to me," he smiled apologetically, "Not the same thing."

"Well, it isn't fair I'm like this!" she cried.

"Oh no, it isn't," he shook his head, "It's not fair I'm like this or you're like this or Cassidy's a ghost...it's so unfair."

She looked at him. At the two yawning holes where his silver-blue eyes once were, where there was only purple pinpricks now. At the razor-sharp endoskeleton teeth. At the mottled purple skin. Imagined how in the right lighting he probably looked nightmarish.

She raised one of her hands and wiggled her black-and-white striped fingers, imagined the mechanics underneath that shouldn't work but did. She looked back, "It really isn't. I thought maybe I had come to terms with it but I guess not. Do you ever think I will?"

"I...I don't know. Some days I feel like I've come to terms with this then next thing I know, I'm having a nightmare about the whole affair again."

She looked at him thoughtfully, "Y'know, you said Elizabeth did this to you. What happened?"

"Fuck," he groaned, collapsing back in on himself, back hunched and face cradled in his hands, "You wouldn't know the whole story, would you?"

"What happened to Elizabeth?" Charlie asked again, all her mechanics coiled in agitation.

The look Michael shot her told her enough. Whatever happened hadn't been good. He looked away as he began to explain, his eyes haunted by the memory, "Sometime after the first Freddy's had closed and just about when they were starting to build Junior's, Dad started on his own place, throwing everything he had into it. Circus Baby's Pizza World it was called. Intended to fill the place Freddy's had left. At least, that's what it was supposed to look like. In reality, it was a hunting ground for the Funtimes. He built them to capture and kill kids. I mean, I didn't know this at the time. No one did."

"He used them to kill her."

Michael shook his head, "Not exactly. It was an accident. I guess it was his fault she got close to Baby at all. He modeled Baby after her, it was her animatronic. He let that slip and suddenly that robot was all she cared about," the venom and pain in his voice that had emerged was apparent.

He took a deep sigh to regain his composure, "Anyway. Dad opened the place, told her, no, begged her to stay away from Circus Baby."

"She didn't listen," Charlie murmured, "Elizabeth didn't like being told what to do."

Michael nodded, "Never did. Ol' Afton stubbornness. She went to see Baby and when she was alone with her…," he squeezed his eyes shut, "Baby must have taken her."

He shook his head, "I should have asked Dad if I could come with to watch her. But hell, I didn't want to touch the place with a ten foot pole."

Charlie took his hand and gently steered him back on track, "So Beth is in Baby."

Michael nodded. Charlie gestured to him, "So how does all that factor into this?"

"Well, you see, I moved out sometime, late 80s. Was hoping to never come back honestly but Dad calls me up offering me a job of all things at Circus Baby's, which had to rebranded to a rental service. He said something about 'freeing Elizabeth' that I didn't understand but…," he paused, "It was Lizzie, my little sister. I had to give it a try, see what the hell he meant. See if I could save her. I figured she was haunting something but it didn't occur until later that it was Baby."

"Your father didn't tell you," Charlie's voice was sharp and dangerous.

Mike gave a bark of bitter laughter, "Then he'd have to explain everything! No, when Lizzie died, he said it was a gas leak. And I believed him, even when he demanded a closed-casket service."

Charlie internally scowled but squeezed his hand, "That's terrible. I'm sorry, Mike."

"Thanks. Anyway, fuck, where was I? Right, the job. It was a hellish five nights. Dad must have not realized the animatronics were going to be so hostile to me," he paused with a sigh, "But I could have bailed myself out. He said if something went wrong to tell him. But I was so desperate to do right by her."

Like I couldn't do right by Cassidy. Charlie frowned deeply at the implied words but said nothing.

"Anyway, came that fifth night, Friday. Baby, or Elizabeth, I'm not sure if there was a difference, had me do some work on her. Extract a sort of chip and send her to the "Scooping Room". Some kind of place where they broke down the animatronics to rebuild," he shook his head, "I dunno, it seemed way too brutal. Looking back, there was something awfully sinister about it. Something else to ask about. Anyway, Baby had me go in there."

He grimaced at the memory, "It was a trick. They had me go in a maintenance hatch, blocked me inside once I got in. You see, the Funtimes had taken themselves apart, turned into some kind of...amalgamation? This thing, Ennard I've called it, turned the Scooper on and well," he threw his arms out.

"Gutted you like a fish and wore you like a suit," Charlie said softly, "You weren't exaggerating."

He smiled wryly, "Not about that. I've even got a big ol' scar on my chest, if you wanna see."

"Eugh, I think I'll pass," Charlie grimaced.

He leaned back with an amused smile that went slack as he continued, "They must have puppeteered my body around for a week or so before they realized, hey! Human bodies don't exactly keep well after dying! They ditched me and left me dead on the ground. But for whatever reason, I got back up. I must have died then come back."

"Runs in the family," Charlie said without thinking.

Michael turned his head so he could stare at her. She covered her mask, embarrassed.

Then he began to cackle like a madman, making her feel even more sheepish. He grinned, "C'mon, Charlie, that was hysterical!"

She uncovered her mask and let herself laugh a bit. Pleased, Michael finished up the story, "Anyway, I woke up at home, had to pick up my life and somehow, came across your Dad later that day. He had heard about a "zombie" "terrorizing" Enterprise and decided to check it out. Didn't realize who the zombie was!"

"Oh my god, really?" she asked.

He nodded, "Yeah, he pulled a knife on me before he realized I was dead."

"Why would he do that?!"

"Saw my shopping list, saw the peroxide and all those cleaners and figured I had went and killed someone," he chuckled softly to himself, "In his defense, I'd believe that first before me being dead and needing those for me."

"Anyway, that's just about that for that. I mean a lot has happened after but," he paused, gesturing vaguely.

"One thing at a time."

"Yeah, don't want to overwhelm you."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence before Charlie broke it. "So what now?" she asked.

"Your dad has this whole plan," he gestured vaguely in the air, "to lure all the animatronics to one place to get rid of them."

"Is that all you know?"

"Well, yeah. It's not finished," he shrugged, "He might tell you more."

"Huh," she leaned back, "So we're just waiting on that?"

"More or less."

They sat in silence before Michael stood up, "You alright with me heading off? You good?"

"Yeah, yeah," she waved him off, "I think I'm going to stay here for a little bit."

He nodded in understanding and left, carefully closing the door behind him. She watched him go then let herself fall back onto her bed.

Her bed...that was a weird thought, especially after years and years in places that weren't home.

Home itself felt like a weird thought. Home for a while was a Freddy's restaurant, whether bustling with children or empty as an open grave. For a while it was that kind lady's home, the one from Junior's. And now, after wandering for a year, she was home. With her father and Michael and Cassidy.

There was definitely a lot more to the story like Michael had said. There was a whole series of events operating outside her awareness, just as there had been a whole series of events operating outside her father's awareness. Now they were together and their stories were intertwined together once more, hurtling into...what she could only assume was the end. The ending to their story.

It wasn't a frightening prospect. If anything, there was comfort in it. Now, at home and in her bed, she was deeply tired. So being free from this machinery held a certain appeal.

No, the only frightening part of it would be leaving the monster behind. But she knew her father wouldn't have that. He'd tie up all the loose ends and put an end to William.

Now that she was home, everything would be alright. Her father would put it right. And that brought her comfort.