As Sam ran down the hill toward his sister's outstretched arms, a small hole in the ground caught his foot and threw him to the ground. He landed on his face, his nose slamming into the dirt and his injured arm screaming at him upon contact. Groaning loudly, he turned over, facing the sky. The sun was directly above him. Surely it was past noon now, meaning his friends probably have been looking for him for hours.

That's okay, he thought. Charlie's here, now.

But when he glanced upward in the direction she was, she had gone. Frantically, he turned himself over as best as he could, leaning on his good arm. The place where she had just been standing literally seconds before was now completely empty.

Sam blinked profusely, anger seeping into him once more. What was this? He would've thought that his long lost sister would love to see her brother again, but instead, she was playing this game with him. He wondered again whether this was a game. Could she really not resist the urge to take this trip down memory lane? It seemed likely, perhaps, but then again they weren't kids anymore. Based on her friends' testimonies of her as a late teen like himself, she sounded relatively normal if not a little recluse.

Be very careful, he suddenly heard his mother's voice echo in his head. Anger and desperation can lead to trouble. It can make illogical things suddenly sound perfectly reasonable.

He cringed. After the screaming-her-head-off part of her lecture, which went on for what felt like hours, she had told him that after he'd come to Kyle's aid in the fight started by him and Johnny Wilhelm back home. It was still an embarrassing memory for them both, and he shoved it to the back of his mind as he struggled back onto his feet.

Upon standing, he felt suddenly overwhelmed by a pain in his stomach. He grabbed his stomach and bent over, gagging. There was a slight ringing in his ears. After a few moments, the pain finally subsided, but the ringing remained.

Seriously, what is that? It almost sounds like-

He paused, remembering John's words from last night.

"It was nauseating. Every time it was active, I felt like I wanted to hurl."

What had he been talking about? He was talking about the impostor version of his sister, fooling everyone and revealing itself in the most dangerous of ways. But according to John, both robotic bodies were still where they were left, and according to what Clay had mentioned, the imposter's corpse had been burned as well. Then again, if Charlie was still around somehow, could her doppelganger be as well?

Picking up the flashlight from the ground, he continued moving slowly toward where his sister just was, struggling as each step sunk deeper into the mud. When he reached the spot, he looked down and noticed something suspicious.

Where are her footprints?

Given the monsoon-like downpour that caused him to end up in this position, the ground was too wet to walk through without leaving obvious footprints. He looked back at his own muddy track as it descended from up the hill. Yet, his tracks were the only ones. No sign of any other.

Am I imagining it after all? Is this all in my mind?

He thought back to John's story.

"It's like she was never there. The sheets didn't even look ruffled or anything, but I know she was there. I saw her clear as day."

Sam shook his head, putting a hand up to his forehead. It didn't make sense. Part of him told him that he was being stupid, hallucinating that he was seeing his dead sister after possible suffering a head injury, being too optimistic for rational thought. Another part of him argued that John said that he clearly saw her too, and he wasn't injured.

Still, he seemed flustered. Perhaps he wasn't seeing clearly.

Or maybe he was. Maybe there is hope after all. Maybe...just maybe...Charlie is still somehow alive and you should keep searching for her. Find her: you need closure with her.

"But where do I start?" he argued verbally, his own voice startling him a little. He realized he hadn't actually spoken out loud in some time. "I don't even know where I am."

As he looked around the clearing he was in, surrounded by trees and a few rocks. He wasn't sure how far off the road he had traveled chasing what he thought was his sister, but he imagined it had been pretty far, given the time that had passed. His left arm was beginning to hurt even more now, and the big flashlight in his right hand was weighing it down considerably. He felt like he was carrying too much weight to go on running. Perhaps he should turn back. He didn't want to kill himself.

As he turned to locate his footprints, he noticed something behind one of the trees. It looked like a radio tower antenna, only not as tall, though clearly visible through the trees.

A radio tower? Maybe that's my shortcut outta here!

He began moving slowly in the direction of the antenna.

Kyle and the others watched as the tow truck began attempting to pull Charlie's car from the ditch. Clay was speaking with one of the other guys on the crew before walking over to them.

"So where's Sam?" Jessica asked, worry evident in her voice.

"Your guess is as good as mine. He's not around," said Clay.

Jessica huffed. It was an obvious answer, but she couldn't stop herself from asking anyway.

"Do you think he's okay?" John asked.

"Hard telling," said Clay. "It looks like the tree damaged the car beyond repair. As for Sam, I have no idea since he's not here. All I can say for certain as that he obviously didn't die...at least not immediately after impact." His voice was somber. He was trying to remain professional and honest while repressing his worry.

"But is he ok, do you think?" Jessica asked desperately.

"I have no idea," said Clay. "He could be anywhere right now. It looks like he was trying to head back to his father's house, but he must've taken a wrong turn. I'll call in some help and send a group ahead once we get this tree cleared. I'll send another group over to Henry's house to see if he happened to make it back there." He began walking back over to his car parked nearby out of the way of the path. He opened the door and began speaking into his radio.

"This is bad," said Jessica, her voice almost a whisper.

"What do you mean? That's Sam's still missing?" asked John. "Personally, I think it's better this way. If he was here, there's a good chance he'd be dead. At least we know he's alive."

"Is he?" said Jessica, turning to him. "How do you know? He could've wandered off and died somewhere else!" Her voice was becoming high and shrill again and her eyes were wide in panic. She looked and sounded like she was about to start hyperventilating. "Some of these woods go on for miles! And the mountains! What about them? Even if he's okay, he could be lost out there somewhere! What would we tell his mother?! She'd have a heart attack!"

John glanced at Kyle, who only shrugged. Even without words, his face relayed the message pretty well: You know her better than I do. You have to deal with her.

"You're right, John," Jessica continued, turning and starting to pace. "You're right. We should've said something last night. Poor Sam probably thinks we're all against him, now. That's why he's striking off on his own like this. Has he done this before, Kyle?"

"What?" said Kyle, who'd been looking over at the wrecked car. "Oh. No, he hasn't. This really isn't like him at all." It seemed pointless to say since he'd made it pretty clear last night, but he figured Jessica needed the confirmation more than anything right now.

"Yeah. You see?" Jessica went on. "Now we need to think here. Where could he have gone from here? Maybe he kept walking down the road? Or maybe he caught another ride somewhere."

"Jessica," John interjected, but she didn't seem to hear him.

"Yeah, maybe someone else was driving this way, and he caught a ride with them. Maybe he's at his dad's house. Or maybe at Fredbear's, or whatever that place is…"

"Jessica," John said again, growing more concerned. Still no acknowledgment.

"What we could do is split up. We can tell Clay to go one way, and we go the other...No, wait. He already said he was going to do that. Maybe we can tell the mayor, organize a city-wide search, and-"

"JESSICA!" John shouted, gripping her arms tightly and shaking her. "Calm down. You're having a panic attack."

"I AM NOT!" she shouted back, drawing several eyes over to them. "I'm just worried!"

"And I'm not?!" John retorted. "What happened to the conversation we had in the plane? What happened to the Jessica who just gave me hope? Now she's the one losing it!"

"That was before we found Charlie's car smashed and Sam nowhere to be seen! We have to find him soon!"

"I know that. We've established that long before this. You're losing it."

"Well, wouldn't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"We've already lost Charlie-"

"Don't say that. You said-"

"I know what I said, but listen: We don't know anything for sure about her. Even if she is still alive somehow, you said yourself that she wasn't even a real person the whole time. Do you know how I felt hearing that for the first time? It's like she's already dead to me! I'm not losing her brother now, too."

"Is that what this is about?" John asked. "You think that Sam's gonna go the same way as Charlie?"

"He might if we just keep standing here arguing instead of doing something."

"What exactly do you propose we do? We have no idea where he is! Since when is stopping to think a bad idea?"

"Look who's talking," Jessica retorted. "You've done a lot of thinking lately, haven't you. That's why we almost never see you anymore. At least I'm upfront with my feelings. All you do is hide your emotions behind a wall of uninterest and isolation."

There was silence as John and Jessica stared angrily at one another, their eyes locked in a deathmatch. John was fuming. Was she really daring to imply now of all times that he cared about Charlie less than she did? They had shared so much with one another. The two of them were probably Charlie's closest friends, and they both knew that. But now, their own relationship was put on a tightrope.

Similar thoughts were racing through Jessica's mind. She knew meant well, but he had his moments of completely separating himself from the world, including those who loved and cared about him. He had done it when Charlie miraculously showed up at the diner to surprise them. Granted, she turned out to be an imposter, but still, John's company for this event was missed. And then when he left the hospital after boldly telling Clay that they would never find Charlie their friend, and left without so much as a goodbye, never to be seen again until only last night. She loved him dearly as a friend, but his habit of disappearing was becoming increasingly frustrating and even heartbreaking.

The silence was finally broken by Clay clearing his throat.

"Am I interrupting something here?"

"No," said John bitterly, turning to him. "What's going on?"

"Well, the towing guys need to bring out some other equipment. It looks like there are some tree branches caught in the windows and the guys don't want to get their truck stuck in the mud. They need to grab some tools from their shop, and I need to organize a search party. Unfortunately, my radio's signal isn't the best out here, so I'm gonna try up the road a little three stay here. I'll be right back." Without another word, he hopped in his car and drove out of sight, the tow truck right behind him. Jessica and John turned back to one another.

"You think I don't care?" John asked her. "You think I'm not concerned about Sam? Or Charlie? I know I pprobably shouldn't have left or cut myself off like I did. I realize that. I admit that, but don't think that I don't care."

"Well, you have a lousy way of showing it," said Jessica irritably. "I meant what I said. When Charlie, the other Charlie, came back and I thought it was really her, and I told you that your isolation was what was killing her, I meant it at the time. To be honest, it was killing me, too."

John said nothing. He only looked at her as her eyes began to water.

She gave a heavy sigh. "I guess I can't completely blame you, though. Oh, John...why did all of this have to happen? Michael and the others, Charlie, everything else. Why did it have to be like this? Why couldn't this happen to somebody else while we have normal lives. It's bad enough that might have lost Charlie. Sam showing up is a miracle. I can't stand the thought of losing him too." She broke off, her voice unable to form more words. John walked forward and pulled her into an embrace.

"I've been thinking the same thing," he said, flashing a small smile. "I guess it was my turn to be the reminder."

She chuckled. "Yeah, I guess so. I'm sorry I snapped at you. When we saw Charlie's car wrecked like this, I panicked."

"And I didn't? The important thing is that he's probably still okay. All we have to do is find him. Wherever he is, he's got to be around somewhere."

"These trees go on for miles," Jessica pointed out again. "Where do we even start?

"How about over here?" called Kyle suddenly from over near the car. "Come take a look at this."

They walked over to where he was crouching. He was staring down at something on the ground.

"What is it?" John asked.

"There." Kyle pointed down at the ground. Right in front of them leading into the woods, clearly visible in the mud, was a footprint.

Hannah blew her nose into a tissue and wiped her eyes. She'd been crying all morning almost nonstop since Clay and the other left. Carlton handed her another box which she took with a small smile.

"Thanks."

Carlton nodded and sat back. The two of them had been sitting at the kitchen table. Part of him felt bad about sitting there, watching the mother of his friend cry herself dry while he did nothing, but his dad had told him to comfort her, and given that he was still in trouble from sneaking out yesterday, he didn't dare disobey. Besides, the rising emotions and tensions had drained his interest in doing anything else. All he could do was watch her constantly blow her nose and break down, debating on what to say, should he dare try to speak.

After another fifteen minutes of silence, Carlton turned to look out the window. His mind began wandering. The sun was in a high enough position to almost blind him, but he continued staring. He thought about Charlie, the Charlie they all knew. He envisioned her clearly in his mind, her brown hair, big brown eyes, smiling face, green jacket, all of it. He remembered her voice, usually soft and caring. She had always put her friends' wellbeing above her own, like when she risked her own safety helping him out of that suit Afton had put him in. She had her quiet moments, a sharp contrast to his personality, but she was very lovable, not that he ever told her that. There were fragment

She never told me about her brother, he thought. She never told anyone...except John.

Where was she now? If she was still alive, as one could hope, she'd probably be dying to see her long lost brother again after all these years, according to John. She'd been through a lot. They all had, but her more so than anyone else...except for perhaps her father. Her father, the genius they all admired as children, the one responsible for the animatronics they all loved. The man who, as time soon revealed, lost his daughter and dedicated the rest of his life tormented by that tragedy so much that he built another daughter, the one they had all come to know as their friend Charlie.

And then, in a weird twist of fate, another dangerous (and more attractive) version of Charlie shows up and causes mayhem. She had seemed so real, so lifelike, so Charlie, that it wasn't too surprising that only John, the one closest to Charlie, would smell a rat.

Carlton closed his eyes as he remembered with a small shudder his close call with the robotic Charlie in Jessica's apartment. "There's only one way to really be sure how you feel," was the last thing he'd heard before what he thought was his friend changed into an intimidating robotic creature with a face splitting open in front of him. Fortunately, he had the earpiece with him to make him invisible in her eyes. That was the last he ever saw of her. In fact, he never saw their Charlie again either. In fact, that was probably the hardest part out of all of this. That was his final memory of her...or at least something that was trying to be her. He already lost one friend years ago, now it felt like he'd lost another.

Another blow into a tissue followed by a loud sniffle turned his attention back to Charlie's mother, still sitting beside him at the kitchen table. He once again debated whether or not he should speak, but was still at a loss for words, so he turned back to the window when she suddenly spoke instead.

"What was she like?"

He turned back to her. She was looking at him with her wet, red eyes.

"Who?"

"Charlie. She was your friend, right?"

He nodded.

"So…" She trailed off, trying to ask it without it sounding too awkward. "What was...she…like?"

Carlton blinked, looking deep into her eyes. "You mean...Charlie? Our...friend?"

Hannah nodded, and Carlton understood why. She and Sam had left relatively early in her husband's mission to recreate their daughter, and after all these years of wondering, she found herself alone with one of the friends of this invented daughter of hers. Naturally, she was curious.

"Well, she was...normal," Carlton told her. "I mean, yeah, she was a little quiet sometimes, but for the most part, she seemed perfectly normal. None of us ever suspected...anything...until just recently. We played together all the time as kids, and she still seemed like the same person deep down when we all met together again for the ceremony a few years ago."

Hannah nodded, looking grimly down at the kitchen table. So it was true. Henry had indeed successfully created something alive and realistic, based on what she'd heard, enough so that it had fooled everyone for years. As devastating as his mental condition had become those last few months before she and Sam left, he was still a genius with a gift beyond even her understanding, and she had dabbled with robotics herself a little bit over the years, too.

"Did she...mention me or her brother at all?" she asked quietly.

Carlton hesitated, trying to rack his brain. Did she? He couldn't recall, but then again he didn't always pay attention to everything. His mind tended to wander quite a bit. After a few moments, he shook his head.

"No, she didn't. Not to me, anyway. You're asking the wrong guy. It's John who spent the most time with her. You'd have to ask him...or Jessica. She spent a lot of time with Charlie, too."

Hannah said nothing. She continued to stare silently down at the kitchen table, much like her son did only sixteen hours ago.

"But hey," Carlton continued. "She was a good friend. We all loved her, and we loved going to her dad's restaurant. It was a lot of fun, and…" He trailed off, unsure of what to say. He wanted desperately to lighten the mood, perhaps crack a joke, but his mind was going blank. He was beginning to recognize in her the eerily familiar emotions of grief he'd seen in Michael's parents days after it had happened. A sense of dread and helplessness came creeping into his mind.

No, he told himself firmly. Not again. She's not dead. John said she's not dead. We'll find her.

"We'll find her," he told her, reaching over to place a hand on hers. She flinched slightly, but looked up at him, locking eyes. He smiled. "She's a tough girl. She always was. Even if she wasn't real, she was real to us. I have faith that everything will be alright."

She stared into his eyes. There was something about him that seemed familiar, even comforting. She remembered hearing that before in her life.

She sat at their kitchen table, tears pouring down her face as she choked back sobs. The funeral program sat on the table in front of her. She pushed it away, another sob erupting from her throat along with a cry of pain as her pregnant stomach received another kick. She held her hand on her stomach, cradling it. A hand placed itself gently on her shoulder as a picture slid onto the table in front of her. In it, she was standing in a white dress next to her new husband, and they were both smiling. At the bottom written in light blue ink:

"Have a good life! Love always, Mom and Dad."

"She wanted you to have it," he told her as he sat down next to her. "It was in her will."

"Why did she have to go so soon? Only a month after he did!" she sobbed.

"I don't know," he said, pulling her into an embrace. "Sometimes, these things just happen this way."

"I hate it," she said in a muffled voice.

"I know," he told her, "but in only a few months, you'll get to be a mother to our children. Two of them!"

She pulled away, looking at him and sniffling.

"And we'll see them through thick-and-thin, highs and lows, joys and pains, until one day they stand up at their graduation ceremonies as valedictorians and thank their mother for all the love they received in their life!" he finished proudly.

She laughed. "I don't think there are two valedictorians in the same class."

"Okay, so maybe I exaggerated a little bit," he said, smiling. "But I'm confident that you will make her proud. She may seem lost now, but she'll be found in the love that you pass on to your children...our children."

"You really think so?" she asked.

"Absolutely. I have faith that everything will be alright."

He smiled at her, and she smiled back as they pulled each other into another hug.

"Miss Anderson?"

Carlton was staring at her a little concerned.

"Hmm?"

"You're smiling. Are you okay?"

"Am I?" she asked. He nodded. "I'm sorry. It's just...to be honest, you reminded me of my husband a little bit there."

"Really?"

"Mm-hm," she said. "He was always so cheerful and optimistic. It was contagious. He loved the kids more than anything. It was so tragic the day we lost her. I can't entirely blame him for being so devastated. When he finally began to lose his mind, I…" She closed her eyes. "I just couldn't stand to see him of all people fading into insanity the way he did. It broke my heart."

"I understand," said Carlton. "I felt the same way when Michael was taken."

"Was he your friend?"

He nodded.

"Tell me more about him."

When the building finally came into view, Sam was immediately struck with how old it looked. It was about the size of an elementary school composed entirely of concrete and wood. Sam groaned, his shoulders dropping. The place looked completely abandoned. Aside from the radio tower above, it looked like an average windowless building.

Come to think of it, why would a radio station be way out here anyway? Sam thought. It didn't make much sense.

He turned back in the direction that he had come, seeing only a fresh set of footprints coming from the trees. How long had he been walking by now? What time was it? He had no idea. As he turned back to the mysterious building, he figured if nothing else, it might have something he could use. A phone, batteries, maybe even some food. It was worth a try.

He approached the building slowly, trying to ignore the continuing pain from his arm, which had begun to bruise more severely. He tried moving it again, but the pain was too great.

Perfect, he thought. There's gotta be a first aid kit in here at least.

He approached what looked like the front door of the building. It was a typical glass door with a metal handle like one would find at restaurants. He pulled it. It didn't budge.

Figures.

He looked around and began searching the perimeter. There had to be some way. He'd been walking around these trees aimlessly for hours, following his sister, so he hoped. Either he had brain damage from the crash and needed refuge somewhere or his sister was trying to lead him here. Either way, he wanted in.

The outside of the building was sealed. There were no windows along the side at all. It was weird; he'd seen radio stations all the time at home, and they all had windows. He'd never seen a building like this one before, so closed off from society and barren, like it was trying to hide something from the world's prying eyes.

He eventually made his way around to the back of the building. This side of the building appeared much darker, mostly because it was in the shade. The air as noticeably cooler, even more than what it should be.

Something's not right, Sam thought to himself as he shivered. Despite only walking around a corner, he suddenly felt as though he walked directly into a freezer. His lightweight set of clothes weren't providing him with that much heat. His quivering hands suddenly fumbled the flashlight. It fell to the ground with a thud. As he bent down to pick it up, he felt it again. A sense of being watched, eyes peering at him from somewhere. He looked up...and there she was.

She was standing about fifty feet ahead of him, leaning against the wall with her arms folded across her chest, looking much more relaxed than she had before.

"Charlie?" he called, his voice so low it was almost a whisper. "Is that really you?"

She looked at him for a few moments and giggled. "Of course it's me, silly. Why wouldn't it be?"

"I don't know," said Sam, regaining his composure, flashlight somehow held safely in his grip. " just thought you'd be more…more…"

"More what?" she asked with a smile.

"More...emotional."

Her smile faltered slightly and she tilted her head, clearly confused. "Oh?"

"Well, John and the others said you seemed very...I don't know...distressed lately about, well, everything. About Henry-I mean, Dad. About me. About you. I just expected us meeting together again would be not as, well...like this." He finished with a small embarrassed smile. If this really was her, he was surely making himself look like an idiot.

She said nothing, only studied his face, eyeing him from head to toe. He felt uncomfortable, he felt exposed. It was like his first concert in front of people. It hadn't been a large venue, but there were at least twenty people, meaning forty eyes focused on him during his moments.

Finally, she laughed. "Oh, Sammy. We've been separated for so many years. You couldn't let me pass up an opportunity like this. Remember when we used to play at Fredbear's?"

He remembered. They chased each other, played hide and seek with each other, danced with each other, tackled each other to the ground, everything. They even played games they made up. He couldn't even remember what they were.

"So you're here then?" he asked hesitantly. "You're actually...you know…?"

"Alive?" she finished for him. "Yes, I am. It's amazing, isn't it?"

"But why here?" he asked. "Why bring me to this place? What's so special about here? Come to think of it, how did you even know I was here to begin with?"

"I've been following you."

"You-you have?"

She smiled. "Closer than you know."

He said nothing. What could he say? His own sister, thought to be dead by her friends, was secretly following him the entire time? Why didn't she show herself sooner?

As if she read his mind, she continued, "I'm sorry about being so secret. It's been so hard lately, with Aunt Jen gone and me being nothing but a robot. I just needed some time to think."

"Your friends have been looking for you," Sam pointed out. "Especially John. I'm sure he'd love to see you."

"I know he would," she said with a sigh. "Unfortunately, John's been taking my passing really hard. It's better that he doesn't know yet. I mean, he didn't even volunteer to come with you to look for me, right?"

Sam nodded.

"He needs more time, I think. He can get very emotional sometimes."

"Yeah, I guess so," said Sam. He did seem a little shaken up last night. Maybe she's right.

"Come on," she said, waving him over. "I want to show you something."

"Where?"

She nodded toward the building.

"What is this place?" he asked.

"You'll find out," she said with a small giggle before turning and walking down the length of the building. Sam followed, trying to catch up to her but struggling because of his arm, not to mention his legs were getting tired from all the walking.

She rounded the corner ahead of him, and he followed just in time to see her feet, bearing combat boots, disappearing into a small vent opening in the side of the building. He approached the opening and carefully got down on his hands and knees. The mud was deep here, and he struggled with his one good arm to pull himself through the opening.

The room he emerged in was damp and dusty. All it took was one inhale to nearly send him to the ground coughing. His lungs felt like they were on fire as he swatted the air, trying vainly to clear the dust. The flashlight provided a faint yellow glow, just strong enough to make him realize that he was in what appeared to be a janitor's closet of some. The room was small and contained shelves of bottles and boxes, along with the occasional mask. He walked over and picked up one. It was a fox mask with two eyeholes cut cleanly into the front, but it felt heavier than the typical Halloween mask. Perhaps it was a animatronic part that could be worn as part of a suit. Just like that rabbit that took his sister…

No! he thought violently. I'm not going back to that! Ugh, I HATE closets!

With the smell overwhelming and his feeling of vomiting starting to return, he walked over to the door and opened it. He emerged in a hallway that split into multiple directions, all of which led only into darkness. The only light came from right next to him. He was next to the front door on the inside.

"Charlie?" he called, somewhat quietly, but loud enough for her to hopefully hear. "Where are you?"

He glanced down one of the hallways which looked like it went on for miles based on what he could see. He looked up and noticed a banner hanging above it, which contained the words written in large Halloween-style orange font:

WELCOME TO FAZBEAR'S FRIGHT!

A/N: Yeah, FNAF 3 is probably one of my favorites of the series so I couldn't let this location go. I'd say they're all in for a bit of a rough time real soon!