Dix-neuf [Roof above, Projectionist below.]

/

Why the Bendy mask was an acceptable hat? Who could say? How it stayed on Sammy's head? Who knew! But the fact his face was his again, that he had little reason to hide when it was just he and Henry? That felt grand.

Almost as grand as holding hands. But when the time came for Buddy to pop in and take them to the safe house? The mask went down, and the hands unclasped. Sammy doubted that Buddy would care about either thing too much. Risking it wasn't on the agenda for him, anyway. Not for whatever this was.

Buddy smiled and donned his lit hat before heading out for soup. Of the things to change with the friendly wolf, that remained.

Henry sat at the table, pulling up the drawing pad that had taken up a place in an open toolbox. The stub of a pen was a little hard to draw with, but he could manage. Besides, now he could finish that drawing of Sammy with a live model! Well… first thing. "You can take the mask off if you want to."

"What if I don't want to?" He asked as he adjusted the banjo to sit in his lap and took a seat.

Henry shrugged. "Then this drawing will be pretty off model."

Inked fingers drummed the neck of the banjo, letting out a muted couple notes. "Who am I to halt the artistic process?" Sammy pushed the mask up, so it sat perched on his scalp. It was probably the worst hat he'd ever worn in his entire life.

Henry looked over and gave a lopsided grin. "Perfect."

"Shall I strike a pose?"

"The one you're in is great."

A smirk, and Sammy casually plucked out the banjo portion of The Lighter Side of Hell. He hit a sour note, and his lip twitched. "Mm." A turn of a tuner later, he was back on track. "It's… silly."

Henry peered over his glasses at Sammy. The stub stopped.

"This song, I mean. I wrote it a long time ago. Hid it so no one could see." The G chord floated beautifully. "The tune came to me one night after you'd checked in on me before heading home. Don't know what did it, but…" He plucked the third string idly, blinked, wasn't sure where that thought was leading. "Well, it ended up in as the finishing number for the movie."

The cartoonist narrowed his eyes and set his pad down. "You remember the movie?"

"I only, ah, remember…" He drew in a breath, and set the banjo to the side. "Remember… we had been, ah…" His left eye twitched. "Hold on. This-this one feels like a doozy." Sammy stood shakily from his chair and pressed himself to the far wall. An echo, a warning, like when he felt unsure in the toy room. "Dammit."

"This one?" Henry stood.

"G-got up, didn't want to fall or break anything, I'm…" Something low and cold bloomed behind his breastbone. "Henry… I think-" He inhaled as a ripping stab of pain traveled up his spine to his skull. Long legs buckled, mouth agape and trying to get air into his lungs. It still amazed him they were there. "It's bad. It's big, I-"

The man kneeled before the ink man and nodded. "It's okay. Just keep breathing. We'll handle this like the others."

He'd have given anything to have those words comfort him, but he'd felt this memory before. Down in the toy room a loop prior when he looked Henry head on and felt like he-

-wanted a smoke and some peace of mind. The studio got hotter than hell any time of year. Sunsets on the roof were a sight to behold, and today was a cloudless day. Early autumn, crisp leaves where trees dared to grow, a golden sky overhead, Henry taking a seat on a ventilation pipe-

Hold on.

"Ah, Henry."

The man turned with wide eyes, then relaxed upon seeing him. "Sammy. Did you finally get free of those rewrites?"

Sammy pulled loose a cigarette and flicked his lighter in a well-practiced motion. Taking a drag and letting out a cloud to rival a thunderhead, he smirked. "Dropped off the score for Sheep Songs and headed up here. If Joey has an issue, he can hunt me down himself. Heaven knows that's how it goes." He strode on long legs to perch himself beside the man and offered his lit smoke.

Henry waved him off. "No thanks. Never picked up the habit."

Taking another long drag, Sammy smiled sharply at Henry. "Just up here for fresh air, then?"

"A break. I'm looking at another long night of getting the next cartoon started." He shook his head, but still smiled. "Tombstone Picnic is looking pretty… heavy. On the animation end, I mean. Joey can cool it for a minute so I can get my head together. I'm just hoping he doesn't come up here. We'd both be dog meat."

"Oh?" Sammy raised a brow. Henry had such a pleasant smile.

"… don't get me wrong, Joey's been my friend since college, but he's… He's getting on my nerves right now. He went for writing and story boarding. I went for animation. Paired up for a project and stuck like glue. Now, he's just breathing down my neck."

"Amen to that. Neck breathing's his favorite thing to do other than rewrites." Sammy shook his head. "Trust me, Henry. No one comes up here." The blond smirked, flicking the cigarette off the side of the building. It spun and left spirals of smoke all the way to the gravel below.

"You're up here," he said in a weak protest.

Sammy smirked. "I'm a special case." Ice blue met soft hazel. "Besides, who would I tell?"

Sitting together, shoulder to shoulder, just enjoying the sunset, Sammy felt at peace. Unusual, high-strung as he was. The blond quietly observed Henry from the corner of his eye. Auburn hair disheveled in a way that said hard-worker, not slob. The start of a well-groomed beard, a spray of freckles over olive skin, silver glasses that framed the kindest hazel eyes- Sammy realized he was staring dead on and Henry was looking back.

Sammy closed the gap, and their lips met. It felt like a dream. It felt like floating on air. It felt like a set of firm hands pressing to his shoulders to push him away.

Sammy leaned back, the only taste against his lips that of the spent cigarette.

Henry… wasn't angry. Sammy found no disgust or rage on the younger mans face. It was worse. It was confusion. It was pity. "Sammy, that's- that's not- I'm married."

The blond swallowed and rose to his feet. "Ah." He didn't want to think of the ring on the man's left hand. A simple gold band that he should have spotted months ago but somehow overlooked because he was a goddamned fool.

The cartoonist raised his right hand to still him. "I'm flattered, I think, but… don't do that again, okay?"

"Forget I did anything, Henry. Please." He shot him a pained grin. "For my sake." Let them both forget this happened. Let him go back to hiding and being an ass.

Henry's smile faltered. "Who would I tell? I like you, Sammy. As a friend. I wouldn't want you getting hurt because of something like this."

He barked a laugh, forced enough that his lungs ached. "Something like this." Something he couldn't change no matter what he tried to rewrite himself. As if someone as wonderful as Henry could look at him in any way other than a friend. Idiot.

The cartoonist nodded and peered over his glasses. "Yes. I think I gave you the wrong idea. You shouldn't be punished because I didn't-"

Sammy snapped. "Punished!" At Henry's frozen expression, he continued. He could feel himself reddening. "You're worried about me when I forced myself on you!"

"I never mentioned my wife. Most people don't look for rings, anyway. I didn't realize you had... feelings like that." He said the last sentence quietly and pushed up his glasses. "If you're uncomfortable around me, I get it, but- Sammy, I'm not upset."

Sammy tilted his head back and let out a groan to the skies above. "Uncomfortable. I force myself on you and you worry about my comfort."

"You stopped when I pushed you off. Worseguys might-"

"Don't defend me. I know what I did. What dolt can't notice a wedding ring?" The blond leveled the younger man with a searing stare and a humorless smile. "You can't keep offering yourself as a sacrificial lamb, Henry. One day, someone might take up the offer."

He frowned, brows lowered. "… likeyou did a minute ago?"

The musician gaped. God in heaven, if words were blades that would have eviscerated him. "I-"

"Sammy. I don't need protecting. I'm young, I get that, but I'm not naïve. I won't tell anyone what happened up here because no one needs to know. It's between us. You got confused, misunderstood what was happening, and it won't happen again." Hazel eyes hardened, not from malice but assurance. "Right?"

… maybe confused was the safest option. Tension threatened to wreck the blond where he stood. "Right. Absolutely. Fantastic." Cracking his neck to the side, he scowled at the setting sun. Gold rays flickered against skyscraper windows like so many gold coins. "I haven't had a good night's sleep in weeks. That explains it." It explained it better than 'I've always liked men'. Something he knew was not allowed. Something he tried often to kill by lavishing compliments on women like he was meant to do. Like all men were meant to. Last he checked, he was a man! Didn't help matters that Henry was so… forgiving.

Henry chuckled and went right along with the subject change. "You sleep? I thought you ran on coffee and shouting."

The blond laughed, like he hadn't put them both in danger a minute prior. He'd gladly take the subject change. "Don't forget nicotine."

The sun caught Henry's glasses, sending a shooting gold spark off the silver frames. "You ever think of switching to cigars? Might give more of a punch."

"Ask the untouched Cubans under my piano bench," he mumbled around his second cigarette. "And no, I'm not sharing."

Henry, wonderfully forgiving and calm Henry, laughed. He had such an open smile, such a calm voice. He was someone that Sammy shouldn't think of in such a way. "Sammy-"

"-I'm right here. Sammy."

The musician hadn't realized he was shouting until Henry shook him by the shoulders. Snapping his focus onto the concerned face of his ally, Sammy stared and slowly shut his mouth. He cupped the side of Henry's face and stroked a cheekbone with the thumb of his trembling hand. "Why did you leave?"

Henry lay a calloused hand over the one on his cheek to still it and press it close. "You've… been shouting that for a minute. Sammy. I'm right here."

Lord, the worry in those gentle eyes. Sammy thought he'd fallen hard already, but that look pulled the rug. He squinted. "No. Before. When you left the studio." His mouth twisted in agony that didn't fit. He could remember the day Henry left. It was only a little painful, but left him with a sense of powerlessness. "What made you leave?" The ink man cleared his throat to collect himself and tried to elaborate. "I remembered the roof."

"The roof."

Sammy pulled away and pressed to the wall behind him, eyes aglow and face to the ceiling. "I kissed you. Up there, under an autumnal sun." He heard Henry shift but kept staring above. "You weren't even angry. Not even a month later, you were gone. From the studio, from our work, from my life." His vision blurred from inky tears and he grit his teeth to control himself even a bit. Sammy went limp against the wall, brow pinched in anguish. "Am I why you left?"

Silence, save Henry having moved closer. Grunting on the way over, he had a seat beside Sammy.

"No." Henry sat shoulder to shoulder with the ink man and pulled off his glasses. The cracked lens and bent nose piece was so much like this situation; damaged but functional. "You didn't impact my decision. That was all Joey."

Sammy blinked hard to clear his vision.

The cartoonist examined his glasses, frowning in thought. "We were business partners. Joey was a man of ideas and only ideas. But Bendy, Boris, Alice? They were mine. I'd been drawing Bendy since I can remember. He's older than the studio's beginnings, but…" Releasing a sigh that could fill the room, he continued. "I didn't matter to the grand scheme. I only made the little devil darlin', knew how he ticked and how he worked. Worked on the show's bible, for goodness' sake! Same for Boris, and I had only been starting on Alice when I learned the truth. Payment, but no credit. No recognition." He laughed bitterly. "Joey whipped out my contract. I hadn't read the fine print that turned everything I created over to him."

"You skipped the fine print?" Sammy asked quietly.

"I didn't think my best friend would screw me over like he had." Carefully cleaning the fractured lens of his glasses, he grimaced. "He paid me royalties, but that wasn't enough to keep my wife and newborn daughter comfortable. I ended up drafted, became a medic, and now I'm back here…" He placed the glasses firmly over his eyes. "Back to where it began."

"That explains why nothing here gets under your skin."

Henry shrugged and combed a hand through his faded auburn hair. "Trust me, Sammy. Joey's why I left, not you."

Amber eyes glowed in the dark. "Then… why come back?"

"Mm. Joey tried to make amends. Sent me an original still from the movie, framed and everything." He smirked, brows lowered. "So, I signed it with my name and mailed it back. It's not worth a dime, now."

The ink man laughed softly at that. "If that didn't send the message, who knows what would."

"Not enough of one. A decade after that, he sent me the letter about this place. Said he had something he wanted to show me."

Sammy blinked. "Why bother?"

"Well… I made them. Bendy as this mischievous little imp, not that… thing that wants me dead. I made Boris as a lovable jerk with an enormous appetite, and the Alice I made would never do those things to someone, I-" He didn't realize he'd raised his voice until the echo came back to him. He took a deep breath. "I don't make monsters."

"I know." He reached for Henry's hand and found zero hesitation in holding it. Amazing, to have someone that wanted to touch him when he was something so far removed from human. "I… wonder, and forgive me if this is an overstep."

"Yes?"

Brows furrowed, and feeling a tremor in his gut, Sammy asked, "Did Joey ever… try anything with you?"

Henry's face wrinkled in genuine shock. "What?"

Sammy frowned hard, amber eyes aglow. "I only ask because- I mean, after you left he became, ah… aggressive."

"... that son of a bitch." For the first time in so many loops, Henry was angry. "Not on me, no." Ruffling a hand in his hair, he gave a pained smile. "How bad?"

Sammy blinked. "He knew what I was, and he hated it. He made sure I knew he hated it, too, but… not enough to get me to quit, I suppose. He'd have outed me if I did… and by then I'd already gone half crazy from the ink."

Henry sighed and let his head fall against Sammy's shoulder. "He hated that about himself, so he took it out on you."

Sammy lay his head against Henry's. Guess he was alright with ink stains. "Not an excuse." Or a surprise.

"Nope. He... wasn't exactly thrilled when I turned him down in college, either." Knowing that he'd been spared Joey's cruel pursuits just made him feel worse. Who else had Joey gone after without him there to keep him in check? Would him being here have mattered after a certain point?

"Well, Mister Drew gets worse the more I remember." Sammy drew a deep breath and let it go until everything in him was gone but a question. "What of you, my little sheep? You were a married man."

Henry chuckled. "I definitely like women. I always have." He then gave the hand in his a soft squeeze. "But I'd be lying if I said I hadn't liked a few men the same way."

"Mm. I thought I'd just been that special."

"You still are."

"If you say so, little sheep." Sammy sniffed hard and let out a cool huff. "Joey… implied he knew about the roof."

"I know."

"You… do?"

Henry sighed, eyes shut. "Joey got wind of it somehow and threatened to call Linda. She'd never have believed him. And I knew that." He smiled ruefully. "I don't think he expected me to quit."

"I want to be shocked."

"Mm. Work me half to death then threaten my growing family? I hit my limit." But honestly, the limit was spitting distance by then.

"Ha. You're too good for your own good, little sheep."

Henry couldn't disagree. "You think you can get up?"

"No. Do you want to get up?"

Henry smirked. "My back is gonna hate me, but, no."

"Well then, we'll just wait for Buddy to come back." He grinned. "But… this loop, I'm thinking I should try to get a word in with Norman."

"You sure?"

He nodded against Henry's hair. "He's slowed down when chasing me. I think… maybe he's trying not to startle me. I'm not sure, little sheep, but it's worth a try."

Henry squeezed the hand in his, running his thumb along the back of it. "Don't get splattered."

"No promises."

\

Sammy hated being down here. Hated the eventual shriek of the elevator going down, being away from Henry and Buddy, the knee-deep ink that dragged him down… the entire thing could kick rocks. But kicking rocks could wait. He had an idea to prove.

He'd taken off for old light head soon after Susie had the elevator doors shut on him. Henry would stall for time as long as he could before the elevator plunged down into the depths with him and Buddy.

Never let it be said that Sammy was finding this task easy. There were booths to hide in, and ways to get out and to Bendy-Land… and if he wanted to, he could still travel just using the ink portals! But the portals were iffy, and he didn't want to risk forgetting something and finding Henry tied up again.

No. Just keep walking. Shake it off. Get through this one thing-

The Projectionist fixed Sammy with his light, far down a corridor. The ticking of film reels slowed.

The ink man squinted at the brightness of the hot amber aimed his way. Sammy didn't budge, save for saying the creature's name out loud. "Norman Polk." He adjusted his grip on the axe. "It's Sammy Lawrence, I-"

A burble of low static, and he lumbered his way.

The ink man stood his ground, fighting the urge in his legs to bolt for safety. If this worked, then they were a step closer to the door. If it didn't? Another try next loop. There weren't other options anymore. He squinted in the light's harshness and prepared the axe for if it all went to hell.

The creature let loose a shriek and lunged, landing with a solid splash that knocked the ink man backwards onto his ass.

"Norman, wait!" Sammy held the axe up in one hand and held his other to stay the amalgam. "I-I know I hurt you in the past! I can't remember it, but I know I did!" He tried to still his hand and heart as they both shook from blooming fear. "Polk, please. I'm sorry I didn't-"

The Projectionist paused and tilted his machinery the same way he did when he looked at the booth outside Bendy-Land. With a groan of his speakers, he bent his knees to be on Sammy's level. He lifted a fist but did not strike Sammy with it. Instead, he pointed with a rubbery, jet black finger. He pinched his fingers together and flicked that hand twice as if shaking water from his hand…

… or tapping a conductor's baton to gather the attention of a small orchestra.

It clicked. "Polk." Sammy grinned beneath his mask and pushed it upwards to expose his face. "Norman. You are in there."

The Projectionist -Norman. His name was still the same.- gave a great nod and grasped Sammy by the suspenders to lift him out of the ink. Not graceful but done with care!

"And you… know who I am?" Even when they were both so far removed from human in this place?

Norman lay a hand on top of Sammy's head in a familiar gesture that had meant to pester.

"Yes, Polk. Some things never change." Polk had been taller than most as a man, but in this form he towered! His smile fell, and he fixed the light before him with squinted eyes. "Can you hear me?"

The Projectionist shook his projector no and pointed Sammy's way before making a duck's bill with that hand. He flapped it like a mocking mouth.

"You… you read my lips." Sammy sighed and nodded. "Thank god I got those back." He blinked and rubbed his neck uncertainly. "Norman, I need your help. We need to get to the lowest elevator level."

A tilt of the machine on his shoulders.

How to phrase it… his left hand tapped out a tango as his thoughts gathered. "My friends are down there, and if we don't hurry, S- Alice will get there first. She wants to hurt them, and I can't protect them on my own. Will you help me?"

He received a nod and a pat to the head.

He'd tolerate it if it meant they were going the right direction. "Fantastic. Do you know a way?"

Norman nodded, and Sammy felt something slim and flimsy wrap around the straps of his overalls. He looked down to find a strip of inky, amber film that lead back to the Projectionist's back.

He pouted. "A leash. Really?"

Norman didn't reply, save for heading to the left at a steady clip. Sammy had no choice but to follow and hope they got there in time.

/