Yeah, uh. No excuse for the delay. But at least it's here now.
...I tried.
I REALLY tried to convince myself to write FNAF3 for this prompt, but endings make me emotional, and the idea of writing something that even VAGUELY resembled the ending of my AU rattled my brain.
So instead, have a beginning of sorts.
This is definitely just a one-shot.
This is not, in fact, a sneak peak at how I would write the opening to a multi-chapter 'fic that I would love to write if I can just keep my life and ADHD under control enough to stick with it.
…The working title is 'Try Again,' I make no guarantees for if/when it'll come out, but goddammit, I want to do this again, even if returning to 'Ghost in the Machine' itself is too daunting a prospect at the moment.
Thank you so much to everybody who's joined me for this ride, and please drop me some feedback (kudos or even a comment) on any of the 'fics you enjoyed. I love knowing that you guys are enjoying what I do.
See ya on the flipside.
Everything was still dark.
Not the same darkness it had been before-not the pitch black, pure absence of light that he hadn't noticed until it was gone. No, this was a much more natural darkness-deep, but not all-consuming. And yet at the same time, it was much more invasive, because while he'd be able to ward off the total blackness as soon as he realized he could open his eyes, this dim ambiance, illuminated only in the faintest sense from a source he couldn't determine, was inescapable.
He sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walked. He wished he knew where he was. He could remember flashes of moments before he found himself here, but nothing concrete. He wasn't even sure he knew his own name. All he could do was wander these empty hallways for however long he'd been doing so.
His eyes drifted across the black-and-white checkered floor, searching in vain for some semblance of something unique, something different from the monotony that had quickly become his… life? Was he dead? Was this what death was like? That didn't seem fair, he didn't… he didn't think he deserved this, unless this wasn't a punishment, but was just a fact of the afterlife, that it was just this. A series of endless hallways-or maybe one infinite hallway, he wasn't even sure-in the dark and alone for eternity.
The loneliness hurt the worst, he felt. Especially when his memory was so fuzzy, and he couldn't even remember who it was that he missed so badly. Then again, he may have had nobody waiting for him, and he was longing to see a face that didn't exist. It didn't matter, he just desperately wanted to be anywhere but trapped here all by himself.
"It's been a while."
He spun around at the voice, and for a moment, he couldn't find the source. The figure was dark, blurry at the edges, like a shadow with nobody to cast it. When he squinted, he could faintly make out facial features, though he couldn't identify anything past the standard human ones-it at least seemed to have eyes, a nose, a mouth, maybe a bit of hair on the top of its head. The figure made a sound that was probably a sigh, its shape wavering. "I… I guess it's good to see you again. Not so much, though, given the circumstances."
"Wh-who are you?" He took a step backwards, noticing that they were no longer in the hallway. Indeed, all the walls seemed to have fallen away, replaced by an empty darkness that faded off into mist. "Where… Uh, where am I?"
"How much do you remember?"
"Uh…" He stumbled backwards, one arm crossing over his chest. The other hand drifted to meet it, and he felt a jagged scar running down his wrist. He paused, turning his arm over and running his thumb along the line. "I… I-I don't… know."
His hands trembled, even as he forced a smile, hoping it would carry over the recording, hoping he could convince whoever was listening that things weren't as bad as they were, hoping that it might save their life for even just a few hours.
He couldn't hold back the sharp gasp that escaped him, and he squeezed his wrist, pulling both of his arms against his chest. Behind him, another voice whispered, "Just let him go." This time, he didn't want to turn and look.
"I-I always wondered what was in those… empty heads… back there…" Oh, but he had his suspicions.
He swallowed, his hands shaking, even as he glanced over his shoulder and saw nothing. "I-I… I'm dead, aren't I?"
"Not yet." The figure seemed to shift, though he couldn't pin down how, exactly. "You should be, though. Right now, you should be nothing more than broken bones and torn flesh, intertwined with pieces of rusted and decayed metal. You should be rotting in one of those suits, just like so many people before you, and probably more people to come."
"Oh, no…"
"P-please, stop." The figure actually seemed to stop at his pleading. He pressed both hands over his mouth, slumping back against a wall he didn't even know was still there. "Why…" He looked up, and to his surprise, the figure seemed to be holding its own head, too. "D...Did you save me? W-w-why? Y-you… you seem like you hate me, w-why would you save me!?"
"Thomas."
He froze.
The flood of memories hit so hard it nearly swallowed him up. Sitting in the dark with a little girl, holding her against his spindly body even as he felt the bruise under his eye begin to swell. Sitting around a table with a handful of people, enjoying a lively and bright mood that, with time, felt more and more tainted with bitterness. A woman with raven hair and shining eyes, smiling at him from across a room, making his heart ache just to see again. Faces and places and moments that he'd seen in the past few days, that he hadn't seen in years, that he would never see again. Was this what they meant when they mentioned somebody's life flashing before their eyes? His whole body trembled with the force, tears welling up, as the fog that had filled his mind for what felt like an eternity cleared away in an instant.
I have to get out of here. I can't leave them. Please, please, just leave me alone, just let me go home-
"Thomas, I…" The voice was softer this time, and when he sat back up to look at it, something had changed. Despite the murkiness of the form, some dusty corner of his mind could still find just the smallest hint of familiarity. "I'm sorry. Of course I don't-I could never hate you, understand?" It seemed to turn away, muttering, "It's just… I guess it's just been too long since I've spoken to another person."
He looked down at his hands, which he could vaguely recall being pale anyway, but looked downright white in the murky, dirty lighting. Or maybe that was the 'supposed to be dead' part. "Wh-why me?" He felt the figure shift its focus back to him, and he continued, "So many… so many other people died before me. Why… Why did you save me?"
There was a moment of silence. "Just a happy coincidence. Usually I'm not around, but I knew I needed to… call in a favor." That made him hold his breath, whatever that meant in this place. "Of course, it was nice to see you again. And you're just the kind of person who would help me."
"Wh-what do you mean?"
Something in the air shifted. When he focused, he almost thought he heard a voice speaking in the darkness. After looking around for a source-to no avail-he turned back to see the figure offering him a hand. "I'm going to need help with something, Thomas." He closed his fingers around the hand, which felt like it would fade away at the smallest breeze, and for a moment, the face flickered to something human, something he recognized, something that almost made him drop the hand that was dragging him to his feet. "I'll come see you again later."
"W-wait-"
The last thing he heard before he woke up, as well as the first thing he heard after, was the sickening crack of springlocks failing.
*LOUD cough* If you're curious about the immediate aftermath of this scene, go back and read 'and figure out a way to get us out of here,' as this ends at the little-less-than-halfway point of that story and despite what it may look like I swEAR THIS HAS A HAPPY ENDING-
