INFORMATION
Written by: Pinkpony4
Chapter Word Count: 7'690
Published on FanFiction: 7th of September
Published on AO3: 7th of September

Chapter 10: Repetition

"Wow. You look like shit, man," was the first thing Daniela said to him that morning. All he did was nod in response, taking his seat in the wheelie chair as she finished gathering her things. "Was it the baby?"

He shook his head, yawning. "Nightmares," he mumbled, warming himself up with his coffee. Oh, he was eternally grateful to Jeremy for giving him that sugar so he could stand the bitter taste. If it wasn't for that, he would never touch the stuff.

"Damn, I'm sorry. Hope you get a better sleep tonight," she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. An odd look crossed her face – as if she was genuinely sorry to hear it rather than just faking sympathy for the sake of it. He dismissed it as his sleep-deprived mind playing tricks on him. "I'll see you this afternoon. Good luck," she added, starting to leave for the door.

"Thanks," he mumbled, waving until she left. As soon as she was gone, he set his coffee down and stretched, cracking his neck, shoulders, and back in the process. The pops and snaps helped relieve the tension in his body and woke him up a little bit. Now a little more aware of his surroundings, he sat up and looked around.

No one was here yet, but the TV was already on and a little too loud. He turned it down and checked the lockers, finding that a large, fluffy beanie had been left behind. Turning to the computer, he also found that nothing new had been added to the files either. With nothing new to worry about, he settled down and got ready for the day, trying not to doze off. That was a surefire way to get himself fired.

After he finished his coffee, he ate his breakfast, steadily waking up by the time he drank some water. Afterwards, he went to the bathroom and decided that spinning around on his chair would entertain him enough to keep himself from drifting back to dreamland.

It was another chilly day; the window was covered in a fine layer of ice that gave the illusion it was cracked. Despite that, he was getting too hot with the heater and his jumper combined, so he took it off and hung it over the chair, staring at the buzzing camera feed, which was probably not good for his eyes.

With all the staring he did in his life, he was surprised he'd never needed glasses. Not yet, anyway.

There was no point in paying attention to all of these little details, but he wanted to get as far away from last night as possible. He didn't want to think right now; every time he did, he would start to shake, his blood would run cold, and he'd break out into a cold sweat.

The nightmares weren't awful; at least, not in the traditional sense. Some of them were sweet, but thinking of them brought back horrible memories that were always somehow followed by something even worse.

The first nightmare had been simple. It was just a blur of memories strung together that lead up to the days his siblings were born. He didn't remember the days themselves too well, but his mother had told him he was impossible to calm down when he got the news he was getting a brother. The knowledge that he was getting another sibling nine months later had him bouncing around in excitement. For some reason, he had been adamant that it was going to be a girl. His father had tried to let Michael down gently, telling him that it may not be a girl, but in the end, Michael was right, and he had adored them. According to the two, he would always rush to their side when they would cry, playing with them until they settled down. Other times, they would find him asleep on the cold floor next to their cribs.

It hadn't been awful, but it still woke him up. He decided to just sit there and stare into the dark, listening to the occasional whines and grumbles that came from his bub. The memory made his heart ache horribly, but a slow walk through the building had helped him calm down. The chilly wind outside dried his tears before he could wipe them away.

He had tried to get back to sleep, but the second he closed his eyes, he was in the last place he wanted to be; inside an animatronic.

He froze, not moving an inch as he tried to calm his racing heart and heavy breathing. The sweat wasn't helping him right now and it only made him panic more.

A loud shriek of metal and machinery started, and he watched as… Mum appeared, sitting on the conveyer belt, eyes closed. What? That wasn't supposed to happen – Ballora was supposed to be there.

"There's something very important I've learned how to do over time." That wasn't Baby's voice either. It was too young – too innocent. "Do you know what that is? How to… pretend. I know we used to play Make-Believe; pretended to be one thing when we were really the other," Elizabeth's sweet voice whispered in his ear, as though she were sharing a precious secret. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. That wasn't what Baby– Ennard – had said.

"It's very important. Mummy never learned. But I did. He thinks there is something wrong on the inside… The only thing that matters, is knowing how… to… pretend." Like that, Elizabeth went silent. The flickering red light in the far right corner of the scooping room was accompanied by the blaring alarms and the screech of the scooper as it struck Mum in the gut, tearing out–

He didn't go back to sleep after that. Instead, he had stayed in the bathroom, door shut as he threw up the remains of his dinner into the toilet. If he hadn't had ran away that night, he would have ended up like her...

The rest of that morning was spent sitting on the kitchen floor, leaning against the counter with the night light by his side, reading an ancient copy of Winnie the Pooh that – if he had to guess – probably belonged to his grandfather with how fragile it was. It would match the date; according to the print on the inside of the cover, it was from 1926. He thought it would be nice to look through the books he owned as a distraction and he found some old classics that he could remember being read to him. Ones like Charlotte's Web, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, some Dr. Seuss books, and Little Bear. Reading them made him happy. One day, he would be reading these to Geh Ge; maybe even reading along so he could learn to talk and read.

Thinking about the future made him happy enough that he was able to distance himself from his cruel mind.

Unfortunately, he had nothing to read right now. He would have taken one of the books with him, but they were so fragile that he didn't want to risk causing any unnecessary damage.

Around nine-thirty, a man walked in, doing what anyone else would do, before leaving without even looking in Michael's direction. He didn't mind; unless someone was up to no good or was looking for someone, there really wasn't any reason to look at him anyway.

Two more came in after that, but just like yesterday, the day ended with nothing really happening. He just sat there, ate, stretched, walked around after getting jittery legs, checked that nothing had been left behind, and then it was five-thirty and he was saying goodbye to Daniela and dragging himself back home.

And just like last time, Geh Ge was thrilled to see him.

-o0o-

Wednesday was just as chaotic as Daniela had said it would be. It wasn't like he had to serve anyone, but the sudden influx of people and rumble of nearly every washing machine and dryer was overwhelming. With the repeated, rhythmic clicks of the plastic folders being smacked together and the screams of a kid throwing a tantrum added on top of everything else, he was starting to get a headache and it was only eight in the morning. Oh, he hoped Geh Ge would be calm when he got home.

The screaming child also made him acutely aware that he'd need to teach his bub manners, and that was a scary thought. The only way his parents had taught the three of them manners was through threats of violence or smacks on the legs if they were rude or caused a scene in public. It would be a cold day in Hell when Michael laid a hand on Geh Ge, but it was a problem nonetheless. He knew no other way and by the look on the mother's face, talking her kid down wasn't helping in the slightest.

Sighing, he rubbed his temples, relieved when the mother finally dragged her child outside as the glares from the other customers grew. He would need to ask for advice. Ms. Olivia would help… but she had grown up in the same era where discipline through violence was encouraged. What if she suggested scaring Geh Ge? So far, the guidebook didn't mention anything about a child's behaviour aside from what type could indicate some sort of mental illness.

The only other person he knew was… Ash. And 'knew' was stretching it – he didn't actually know anything about him. It'd feel awkward to only approach him just because he needed something from the guy. It wasn't a good feeling to know that the only reason someone was willing to talk to you was because they wanted to use you. Michael knew all too well how it felt to be used and tossed aside when his usefulness was at an end.

He would figure something out. Hopefully. That was all he could really do.

With so many people around it was difficult to spot any thieves or suspiciously dressed figures on the cameras. The only other option was to walk through the crowd and watch their hands to make sure no one was up to anything, but even that was difficult when he was being jostled by the crowd. Someone was coughing too. He hoped he didn't get sick. He didn't need that on his plate either.

Around one was when the crowd started dying down so there were only a few stragglers left, and by two, the only people left were those that were there to retrieve their dried clothes. The only person that stood out was a teenager, but he wasn't really paying attention to her. At first, it seemed like she was just there with her parents or something, but when most of the adults were gone, he started getting suspicious. She kept disappearing behind the washing machines and dryers, coughing badly. He could have sworn he saw her rub one of her hands over the knobs and buttons on one of the washing machines. The weirdest thing was that she seemed to be recording herself.

What the Hell was she doing?

The idea that maybe she was just so sick she wasn't thinking clearly flew out as soon as he saw her grinning at her phone and posing like she'd done something amazing.

Michael wasn't naive to the 'trends' and 'challenges' that popped up on the internet. He'd seen plenty of reports covering kids that thought it was funny to steal or hotwire people's cars, loosen the bolts on the tires (which could cause crashes), and even record themselves breaking into people's houses. Sure, he and his friends had been stupid when they were teenagers, but they didn't go breaking into people's property.

(Not like he had room to judge, considering what he did…)

He took a drink from his water bottle, just to wake him up a little bit more before he stood up, straightened his back, held his head up high, and walked towards her with a stride in his step. If he was going to tell her off, he had to look like someone that she'd listen to. Children didn't show respect to the adults that they thought were soft. He would know.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked, arms crossed.

She jumped, whirling around and nearly dropping her phone at the sight of him standing right behind her. Not a surprise; he wasn't very loud when he moved. She started to stutter, trying to string a sentence together.

"Why were you recording yourself coughing and wiping your hands over the washing machines? Do you have any idea how many people use these things? How many you could get sick?" he asked, growing tired of waiting for her excuses. The thing was, he wasn't a stupid teenager anymore. He took the health and safety of others very seriously.

"I, uh, um," she tried, fiddling with her phone. He could see that it was still recording by the red light near the lens.

"Unless you want to help me clean up the mess you've made, I'd suggest you get out before I report you. Businesses love to gossip about the troublemakers in these areas. You don't want me to lodge you into the system; trust me." He tried to keep his voice firm, but calm. The last thing he needed her to do was get skittish because he was coming off as threatening. Still unresponsive, he asked the question he often asked the ones he caught breaking into Freddy's locations. "Would you do this again if I wasn't here?"

"No," she squeaked out.

Knowing full well that that could be a lie just to get out of being in trouble, he nodded anyway. "Alright then. Now, unless you're here to do your laundry, get out."

With that, she nearly sprinted out of the building. Michael grabbed some of the cleaning equipment from the bathroom and wiped all of the machines down, checking their contents along the way. Someone had left their phone on the bench and it was locked by a pin number, so he put it away in the locker.

Five-thirty finally arrived, and he told Daniela all about the day when she asked, mentioning the girl. Daniela shook her head.

"Yeah, there's this stupid trend on TikTok where people just cough or lick their hands and wipe it all over public property. I nearly lost a fuse when I caught my little sister doing it. She cut that out real quick when the police started fining some of the kids." She sighed, shrugging. "Well, wish me luck; these nights aren't much better," she laughed.

Then the two parted.

It wasn't until he got home that he realised why the girl may have been so scared of him, aside from the fact that he snuck up on her. His father was a scary man, both in appearance and presence. He always talked in a clear, loud voice, almost commanding. It was one that demanded that everyone would pay attention to what he had to say. It was what had made others just take his word without question – why he was so easily able to sway people's opinions… why he was so easily able to get away with his actions. Why no one even entertained the thought that he could be the killer. He was a suspect, of course, but not many believed it could have been him.

After all, who would even think that poor William – the man that had lost his wife and had to raise three children all by himself, only to lose two of his youngest within two months and then send his third to a mental hospital – could ever be capable of hurting others?

He had fooled everyone, including Henry.

Poor Henry…

While he may not have loved the man in the slightest, he loved Charlie, so he could tolerate Henry as much as Henry could tolerate Michael, just for her sake. He was nice every now and then, but he just didn't seem to like him all that much. He couldn't quite understand why, even now. Was it because he was a huge influence on how Charlie behaved? She followed him around more than his own siblings, going as far as her mother making a comment about how Charlie may as well be his shadow.

Was it jealousy? The four kids spent so much time together, even more so after both families lost their mothers. But Henry seemed to love Elizabeth and Evan, so why did he exclude Michael? As far as he knew, the man was still close as kin with his father, so it couldn't be his appearance. Charlie noticed the tension – she had always been smarter than most kids her age. And she had such a bleeding heart, always wearing it on her sleeve.

They were in the playground by his house. Elizabeth and Evan were playing on the seesaw while he pushed Charlie on the swings. They'd been doing this for a while, and his arms were starting to hurt, but he didn't complain. Henry had taken a picture of them a while ago, but he had gone to work now, leaving Michael as the unwilling babysitter. Like usual.

Suddenly, Charlie slammed her feet against the ground, forcing him to grab her before she went flying off the seat. She wriggled out of his arms and bolted towards the road, making him run after her. Charlie wasn't stupid, but running full speed towards any road – no matter how quiet – was stupid.

Charlie came to a halt and bent down over something on the sidewalk. He copied her, screwing his nose up. Stuck to the ground was what he could only guess to be a rat, but it was as flat as a pancake, guts hanging out. It was covered in flies, and the blood had dried. It had clearly been here for a while, and it stunk like all buggery.

Placing his hand on her shoulder he gently pushed her away, glancing at his siblings who were oblivious to them. Good. "Charlie, don't touch it; it's diseased."

Out of everything she could do the last thing he expected her to do was to suddenly start crying. "What's wrong?" he asked immediately, turning to her and moving his hand to her back.

"It's dead," she sobbed, covering her face with her hands.

Well, yeah. Wasn't that obvious? "It's just a rat."

"But what if it has a family? They'll be sad 'cause it never came back home!" she cried, finally looking up at him. Her face was all red and blotchy, and she already had snot running down her nose. Oh boy.

He sighed. "Fine. I'll get the shovel. Don't touch it, and don't let anyone see it," he ordered, running back home. He found the small garden shovel and came back, digging a tiny hole in the corner of the playground, which finally caught his sibling's attention.

"Watcha doin'?" Lizzie asked, peering over his shoulder.

"Digging a grave."

"A what?" Evan cried, going pale. "Who died?"

Ah right. Mum hadn't been gone for long. He tried not to think about what he saw. He tried to forget about the fact that she even existed in the first place. He sighed. "Don't worry; it's just a rat."

"It's not just a rat, Mikey!" Charlie said angrily, stomping her foot. "It's a living thing!"

He snorted. "It's not exactly 'living' anymore."

"Mikey!"

He walked back to the dead rat's body and tried to pry it from the pavement with the shovel, but it was practically glued to it. It took a couple of tries, but he managed to yank it from the ground without touching it. He had mangled its head in the process.

"Ew, gross!" Lizzie yelled, recoiling in disgust. Evan, much like Charlie, started to cry too. Urrrrg. Michael wasn't going to hear the end of it if Henry and Dad found out their kids had been crying in his presence.

He walked back to the hole he had made and let it slide off the shovel before burying it.

"Thanks, Mikey," Charlie mumbled, one hand clutching the back of his shirt. "May you rest in peace, Mr. Rat."

He supposed he would never find out now. Henry was in prison last time he checked.

Nineteen-ninety… Nineteen-ninety was the year Henry was thrown in prison. His father… the bastard had had Henry running in circles. Henry finally found out his father was responsible and yet… he did nothing. More kids disappeared. Jeremy was attacked. Staff started disappearing. The police got desperate as Hurricane's anger became as wild as the disaster it was named after.

The longer the days went on without answers, the closer the police got to just throwing in the hat and arresting a random stranger so it looked like they were doing something, damn the lack of evidence. Unfortunately, Henry was the one that was arrested. A new technician that was hired to find out why Mangle had gone mad had found that the Toy Animatronics had been programmed to kill William on sight. For the police, that was enough. No one else thought anything of it; Henry was the one in charge of the animatronics, which bared William from the pool of suspects. He oversaw their creation and coding, not William. He just popped his head in every now and then and threw in ideas, which was a lie – both of them had a hand in their creations.

Henry didn't even get a trial; he was just tossed into prison. From then on, it was a life sentence.

He sighed, slumping against the wall by the entrance of the apartment. Life wasn't fair. He wished it was. All he wanted was to just have his family and be happy. Why did it have to go so wrong? Why did his father just… throw everything away?

It didn't matter anymore; he wouldn't be getting those answers either. It was best to just throw his old life away. He had a new family now, and he needed to focus on them instead.

After a few minutes, he went inside and was relieved to find the top floor was once again silent aside from the giggles and coos coming from Ms. Olivia's room.

He knocked on her door, entering once he was given permission, and found Ms. Olivia waving around The Rattle above Geh Ge while he squealed, kicking his legs and waving his stubby little arms around in excitement. He hadn't noticed Michael yet.

Suddenly getting an idea, he slowly snuck up on his bub and suddenly stuck his head out above him. "Boo!"

Geh Ge let out a shrill squeal, making the two wince. Michael reached down and picked his squirming baby up, laughing as Geh Ge babbled and cooed, pulling on whatever he managed to get his little hands on. He pressed a kiss to his forehead, holding him close.

"Thanks, Ms. Olivia," Michael said, smiling at her. She returned it like always and leaned back into her armchair. Michael didn't miss the way she relaxed as Geh Ge started to quieten down.

"How was your day, Dearie?" she asked, closing her eyes.

"Busy," he said absently, watching his bub start pulling on one of his buttons. He gently brushed his hand away, Geh Ge looking up at him in confusion. "Just like Daniela told me. Had to tell a girl off."

She opened her eyes, looking at him. "Why? What could a kid be doing in a laundromat?"

He sat down on the couch, letting Geh Ge play with his fingers instead. "She was coughing into her hands and rubbing them all over the machinery. I just let her go with a warning." Seeing the bewildered look on her face, he added: "She was following some sort of trend on the internet."

And, like usual, Ms. Olivia went on a tirade about how the kids these days had no respect and how in her day they respected their elders and wouldn't be caught dead licking handles and all that. Granted, Michael wouldn't have done that when he was a teenager either, but that didn't mean he wasn't stupid. Auntie Alison had told him tales about how his father used to get up to mischief when he was young. He didn't like hearing about it now since his father was just as much a bully as Michael had been.

The accessibility of the internet merely made it more apparent just how idiotic and sensitive they all were at that age. Michael would do his best to make sure Geh Ge wouldn't go down that path; mistakes made during those years would haunt him well into adulthood.

Michael would know.

-o0o-

The week went by, the same as the previous days. Like Daniela had promised, Sunday was by far the worst day. He'd nearly jumped over his desk when he saw an old man with a cane struggling to walk through the small crowd. He would have hit the floor if Michael didn't catch him in time. Unfortunately, he didn't get to see if he was alright because another customer approached him, believing she had left her beanie in the building on Tuesday night.

She turned out to be right, as the beanie was finally reunited with its owner.

It was a shame that the end of the week didn't mean the blessing of a day off, but at least he got paid.

"Here you go! Good work," Daniela cheered, handing him a thick envelope.

He stared at it, not quite processing what it was. "What's this?"

Daniela stared at him. "…Your pay? I'd hide it going back home if I were you."

The odd thing was, was that he hadn't told her he would prefer being paid in cash; he still hadn't gotten around to getting a bank account. How'd she known that? He decided not to think about it for too long.

The next week was much the same. And the one after that. And then the one AFTER that. And Michael was so, so, SO, tired.

Geh Ge was a wonderful child, but he was really starting to feel the strain, even with Ms. Olivia taking care of him. It didn't help that he could tell his bub was wearing her down too.

They were halfway through February when he found himself flopping down on her couch, exhausted. He felt like he hadn't slept in years, and while he loved Geh Ge dearly, his pure delight at seeing Michael every evening meant that he was obligated to entertain him until it was time for bed, which was late for Michael because he had to stay up and prep his food for work. Free time was something he wasn't going to be gifted anytime soon.

Ms. Olivia sighed, seeing the state he was in, but she listened to his complaints and worries. He didn't know how long he vented to her, but by the time he was done, he felt breathless.

"I know it's tough, Dearie. When we decide to become parents, we dedicate the rest of our lives to raising them. That is if we want them to flourish and reach their full potential. But understand that most parents aren't working twelve hours a day either. Don't berate yourself or tell yourself you're weak because you're not; you're strong Michael, despite it all, and I can tell you with the utmost certainty that he will turn out fine. We're all here to help you. And as for me…" she smiled, leaning forward and taking his hand in her soft, wrinkled one. "He may be a bit too much for me, I'll admit – but it's been a long time since I've been this happy. And if I'm struggling, I will tell you."

He nodded, letting go of her hand so he could rub his exhausted tears away. She was right; he'd pull through. He'd been through a lot worse. Granted, the stress of being put in life-threatening situations compared to the stress of parenting wasn't the same, but he was wound just as tight. He sighed as he stared down at Geh Ge, who was staring back in surprise. He hadn't realised a tear had fallen on his face.

"I don't think I'll be able to make those gifts," he mumbled sadly. He didn't want to admit it because he so desperately wanted to make them. They would be precious, and an eternal reminder of just how much he loved his little bub, even when he was away.

"Worry about that later. Just focus on finding a good balance between work and rest. If you overwork yourself, you're going to make stupid decisions. Just. Rest."

And that was what he did.

The next few nights after putting Geh Ge to bed, he spent some time sitting in the dark with his eyes closed, taking deep breaths and clearing his mind before going to bed. It helped. He started replacing his morning coffee with water and portioning his food. He also took the time to stand outside in the afternoon with Geh Ge in his arms, just basking in the sun and letting the wind keep his temperature even. By the time March rolled around, he felt more confident and ready for the next day rather than dreading it while stumbling through the door.

Daniela noticed his change in mood immediately. "Good to see you're doing better. Damn, do I wish I could do the same."

He smiled, putting his things down and checking the computer. "I got some advice on how to balance all this work."

She nodded, leaning on her side as she pondered what he said. "Even with your baby? I couldn't imagine it."

"He's a good kid. Though I'll admit, it isn't easy."

Daniela snorted, turning around to leave. "Yet another reason why I swore off having kids. Good luck!"

Turns out that he needed it. Like any Monday it wasn't hard – but it was surprising. Around six came in before three, but after that, no one showed up until five.

He looked up as the door's alarm echoed through the semi-quiet building. The TV was still on, but the volume was set to five as some guy prattled on about some sort of big singer that was going to be having a concert somewhere.

He was a little surprised to see an old man slowly walk in, leaning heavily on his cane. He was bundled up in thick clothes since winter refused to leave, and he had a pair of glasses on that looked like they needed to be replaced. It took him a few seconds to realise why the man was so familiar; he was the one he saw Daniela talking to on his first day, and the one he had saved from falling a couple of weeks ago.

"Good afternoon," he said, but the man didn't react. Maybe he was deaf? It didn't matter since he seemed perfectly intent to go about his business, so Michael left him alone. He watched him on the cameras though, not wanting the man to fall without him knowing.

He moved his things from a washing machine to a dryer, then slowly made his way back to the front. After sitting down, he let out a sigh of relief and reached into an old, worn, messenger bag over his shoulder, and pulled out a newspaper. Michael didn't know how he was able to read since he was squinting so badly, but he didn't say anything. Maybe the man couldn't afford the right prescription; the thicker the lenses, the heftier the price.

Michael was reading some texts Jeremy had sent him when he heard the door open again. Looking up, he stiffened, immediately recognising the four boys Daniela had warned him about. He quickly looked down at his phone, pretending not to notice; he wanted to find out what they were doing and catch them in the act. While he highly doubted he'd get through to them, he wanted to try and turn them around. A criminal record at such a young age was a permanent stain on their future.

The boys were whispering to each other, unaware that Michael could hear them loud and clear.

"Who's that guy?" the smallest asked.

"I don't know, but he's not paying attention. Let's just get what we want and go," the tallest whispered, moving as casually as he could towards the dryers. Michael slowly raised his head, looking at the old man. He had fallen asleep waiting for the dryer to finish, and those boys were heading right for it.

He was patient as he watched them in the cameras. Either they didn't know they were there or they thought he was too stupid to check them. It must have been the latter since they didn't bother watching their surroundings.

The tallest one (who he could guess was the leader) was rummaging through the clothes until he pulled out a thick wallet. Ah. The old man must have forgotten it was in one of his pockets. As the wallet was handed to the boy on the left and they continued to look through the man's things, Michael moved.

Michael did the same thing he had done to the girl; he stood up straight, rolled his shoulders back, raised his chin up, and stalked towards them. This time, he was going to take full advantage of his father's scary appearance. If these kids were repeat offenders, they needed to be taught a lesson.

Lurching over them, he asked slowly: "And what do you think you four are doing?"

The tallest yelped in surprise, smacking his head on the dryer as the other three whirled around, falling on their butts in surprise. All four slowly looked him up and down, steadily getting paler by the second, eyes wide like saucers.

"We– uh– where?–" the second shortest stuttered, scrambling back until his back was pressed against the dryer. The others copied.

"You," he started, turning his gaze sharply to the boy on the left. "have something that doesn't belong to you." He held out his hand expectantly. "Hand it over," he ordered.

The boy shoved the wallet into his hands without hesitation. "We – we're sorry si– sir!"

"Are you?" he whispered, looking at the others. "Or are you just sorry because you were caught? I've been told that you four have been caught stealing here multiple times. Tell me; why should I believe you?"

They didn't even try to answer that.

"I'm going to tell you something right now, so pay attention. Do you know what would happen to you four if I reported you to the police?" When he was met with silence, he continued: "You will be sent to the station. They will find out that you have stolen multiple things from this location and they will create a criminal record for you. Do you know what that would do?"

No response once again.

"It will destroy your future. No one will want to hire you – no one short of a fast food chain, anyway. Tell me; is a wallet really worth destroying your lives over?"

They shook their heads.

"Good. Now, listen closely. I'm going to let you go, but if I catch you in here again, or my co-worker tells me you have even set a toe inside this building, I. Will. Report. You. Do you understand?"

"Y– ye – yes sir!" they whispered in unison.

He smiled sweetly, though he didn't let it reach his eyes. "Good. Now get out."

They scrambled to their feet and flew out the door, nearly pushing each other through. He sighed, shaking his head. He hoped they had taken his words to heart. Embodying his father and copying his commanding voice wasn't something he took joy in doing, but it usually got everyone to do what his father said, so hopefully they would listen.

He looked down at the wallet and checked it over, then looked in the dryer just to make sure nothing had fallen out. According to the outdated license, the man's name was Henry Cross. It also said he was in his seventies, which Michael didn't believe. He looked like he was one gust of wind away from crumbling to dust.

He folded Henry's things and walked towards the sleeping man, wondering what to do. He could wake him up, but he didn't want to scare him. He decided to place his clothes on the seat next to him and gently place his hand on the man's arm.

"Excuse me, Mr. Cross?" he whispered, trying not to be too loud. The man stirred but didn't wake. He shook the man's arm a little more, being careful not to jostle him. He leaned toward Mr. Cross' face and asked: "Mr. Cross? Can you hear me?"

That got his attention. Mr. Cross slowly opened his brown eyes, blinking blearily in the light. He met Michael's gaze and…

Michael jumped back as the man suddenly swiped at him, nearly landing a punch on his jaw. Luckily, all the man managed to do was knock the tip of his knuckles against his chin. What the fuck? "Sir?!"

There was a wild, almost terrified look on his face as Mr. Cross scrambled back, muttering to himself in terror. Raising his arms, Michael put some distance between them, waving his wallet in the air. "I'm sorry if I startled you. I just caught some kids trying to steal your wallet and I wanted to return it to you, see?" he tried to explain, nodding at the clothes by his side. Mr. Cross didn't look away from him.

"What did you do?" he croaked out, almost sounding angry. Was this guy on something? No… Michael recognised the look in his eyes – the man looked the way Michael did after he had an episode. He must have really startled the man.

But that question was rather odd. "What? Do you mean the kids? I just chased them out; they're fine. Are… are you alright? I didn't mean to scare you," he said as sincerely as he could, holding the wallet out. The man snatched it from his hand.

"How do you know my name?"

"I hope you don't mind, but I checked your wallet just in case they took anything. I saw it on your license." Trying to ease the tension, he lowered his hands and stood up, trying to smile despite the fact that the man had tried to punch his lights out. "My name's Michael."

"…Michael?" Mr. Cross whispered, eyes widening as he stared up at him. Right; he probably couldn't see him that well unless he got closer, which was something he definitely didn't want to do. There was something so familiar about the man, but he couldn't place his finger on it. "I… I see. I'm sorry for hurting you."

"Oh, don't worry," he chuckled awkwardly, waving it off. "I've had worse." While it didn't mean it was okay he probably would get a fright if he woke up with a complete stranger nearly nose to nose with him.

The two of them stared at each other, Michael starting to get uncomfortable. It felt like every inch of him was being judged. Mr. Cross opened his mouth to say something but before he could, the door opened and Daniela walked in. He hadn't even noticed that it was five-thirty already.

Daniela looked between them, raising her brows. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, Dannie, thank you," Mr. Cross answered. "Mike– Michael just returned my wallet. Some boys tried to steal it," he explained. Michael frowned, glancing at him. There was something off about this.

Her eyes grew wide and she turned to Michael, excited. "Was it those boys I told you to look out for? Did you scare them off?"

"Yes, and yes," he answered, feeling awkward.

Daniela didn't seem to be. She pumped her fist. "Hahaha! Yes!"

"I warned them that if I caught them here again, I would report them to the police."

She deflated at that. "You didn't report them? Why?"

"Criminal records can ruin your life. I wanted to give them a chance. I think I may have gotten through to them. I hope, anyway."

She crossed her arms, huffing. "Fine, I suppose that'll do." She sighed. "Thanks, Michael. Have a good night," she said dismissively.

Feeling like he was about to be shoved out of the building, he rushed out a goodbye and left as quickly as possible. Did those two know each other? Maybe they were related or something. Had he done something wrong? Should he have reported those boys?

No. No. He took a deep breath and trudged along the sidewalk. There was no need to panic.

He shoved his elbow against the pedestrian button at a set of lights, crossing as it rapidly beeped behind him. Cars drove by, one honking at him because he wasn't moving fast enough, even though the light was still red. Glaring at them, he shoved his hands into his pockets, shivering. At least he could (hopefully) relax when he got home.

Turned out that he wouldn't when the first thing he heard when he walked in was a cry of agony. And it was coming from the first floor. Bolting up the stairs, he stopped just short of… Steve? Spotting Michael, he smiled, looking relieved. "Phew! There you are. Quick, come in," he rushed out, holding Ash's door open.

"What's going on? What–" his voice caught in his throat at the sight. Geh Ge was leaning against Alex on top of some blankets on Ash's dining table, with Jamie by his side. Ms. Olivia stood beside her, a bowl of water in her hands as Ash leaned over the table, a small flashlight in his gloved hands as he tried to look into Geh Ge's mouth.

"What happened?!" he asked, rushing forward and dropping down beside his bub. Geh Ge followed the sound of his voice and started to cry again. His heart broke as he tried to reach for him, cries turning into wails when he couldn't.

Ash sighed as Steve walked around Michael and into the kitchen. He came back with a green box of… children's Panadol? Ash glanced at him then back at Geh Ge. "He started screaming around one this afternoon. Ms. Olivia got him down to me, and I checked him over. He's started teething. Did you notice anything different about him last night?"

His heart sank as he reached over to take his bub's hand, gently squeezing it. "No. He's been drinking without any trouble, and when I was cleaning his gums last night, he didn't flinch and I didn't see or feel anything in there."

Ash nodded, managing to get his fingers into Geh Ge's mouth. Gently, he opened it and peered down. "See? Right there," he said, pointing inside. Michael leaned over and saw a large, swollen, purple blister along his bub's gums. The gums themselves were red and inflamed. "Do you know how to take care of a teething baby?"

"I've read about it. I know that cold water can be used to offer some relief."

He nodded, turning to Steve and taking the box. "I got Steve to run and grab some paracetamol from the chemist. Here, I want you to learn how to use it."

Michael scooted over, the six of them having to rearrange themselves for him to get close enough to Ash. He turned the box around and pointed at a graph. "I already weighed him, and he's fourteen pounds. So," Ash traced his finger down the graph and stopped at the row recommending the dose for a fourteen-to-fifteen pound baby. "This is the amount you'll want to give him." Turning it back around, he flipped the lid up and pulled out a plastic tube that was shaped like a syringe. "When you're giving a baby medicine, they'll try to spit it out. If he spits it out, do not try to give him more to make up for the loss. Even if he doesn't swallow a drop of it, don't give him any more. Alright?"

"Alright; I understand," he said, taking the tube and raising it to the light as Ash shook the bottle. Unsealing the lid, Michael pushed it in and filled the tube with the recommended dose. Turning back to his screaming baby, he gently placed a hand on his cheek and shushed him.

"It's alright. Come on, open up," he coaxed. Geh Ge opened his eyes and held his mouth open, though Michael knew that it would get spit out despite the box claiming the medicine was 'strawberry flavoured'.

Much to his surprise, the small amount he slowly pushed in was swallowed. That was until his bub's taste buds kicked in and he started to cry again, pushing the last couple of drops out with his tongue. Michael used the bib around his bub's neck to clean up the mess, shushing him. Alex and Jamie were whispering words of encouragement, gently rubbing circles into his back and squeezing his hand. He turned to Ash as he started explaining what to do for the rest of the night.

"So, you're not going to be getting much sleep from here on out, unfortunately, but whenever he starts crying, get up and clean your hands before sticking one of your fingers in cold water. Then you can just gently run it over his gums. Make sure to also set a timer so you can give him the medicine as often as possible to alleviate his symptoms. If you notice that his symptoms have gotten worse or that a tooth has pushed through, don't hesitate to wake me up," Ash said firmly, looking Michael right in the eye.

He was taken aback by this sudden shift between them, but he was grateful for it. "Thank you, Ash. I will."

TO BE CONTINUED…