Trente-cinq - [Good morning, sunshine.]

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"Hey. You okay?"

Henry stirred at the voice. He'd never heard it, but he somehow knew it. He rubbed a hand across his forehead. "Dunno. Where am I?"

"New York. You need help?"

Hazel eyes opened wide, and he sat up sharply. His throbbing back reminded him that was a terrible idea. "Ow. Jeez… okay." He looked up at the person who'd been speaking.

A skinny, pale teenager, remarkably tall with a mound of curly, brown hair. He blinked down at Henry. "Hi."

Henry blinked back. "I… know you. I think."

The teen stuck out his hand and pulled Henry to his feet. "You should. You bunked with me a hundred times." A half smile quirked his lips. "But, yeah. I'm Buddy."

The cartoonist froze. "... Buddy?"

A nod. "Yes."

"Oh, my god!" Henry grabbed the young man in a hug. "We got out."

Buddy hugged back. "Yep. There's a lot of us."

Henry pulled away, smiling brightly. "You're human again."

He nodded. "People are waking up. Dunno why I was first awake."

"Let's… let's go." The two headed into the group together.

There were so many people, bundled into groups and slowly coming to. Most were laying prone, some were supine, a couple fetal, but sectioned off into their own bunches.

In a group of about twenty, a man with a nice hat sat up and rubbed the back of his head with a grunt. "Jeez, what a head."

Henry turned to the man, spying the hat in his free hand. "Jack?"

"Stein?" He blinked hard, then managed to get to one knee. "It worked?"

He huffed a laugh. "It worked."

The man replaced his hat and smiled. "Thank you." He sat on the grass, next to a young lady in a sundress with dark red ringlets. "I'mma wait here for the others. You come find me if you need me. Dunno why you would." He squinted. "This here's… I think she had the bassoon? I dunno."

A man who'd woken up before Jack mumbled, "Margie. She had bassoon. I was an oboe."

"All three of you are from the music department. Makes sense." Henry nodded before looking around the empty lot. "Looks like everyone's in groups for where they worked."

Jack didn't look up but smirked. "Then Sammy ain't far off."

Henry didn't have time to reply as someone some yards away let out a squawk.

"You're joking! Really?" The sharp tenor rang out from the far end of the Music group. "Everyone else came back with normal clothes, but not me. Oh no, I'm stuck with overalls from the forties and boots from god knows when!" A tall, thin man stood with an annoyed groan and stretched his arms. "Thank god there's sunshine, or I'd freeze to death."

That voice. "Sammy?" Henry called hoarsely.

The musician turned, sharp and slender. He gaped with wide, blue eyes. Then his sharp face split with an even sharper smile. "Henry!" He ran with long strides and halted just slightly out of arm's reach. Excitement, wild but benign, crept up his features. "Henry. You did it. By god, i-it worked! We're free!"

The cartoonist closed the gap and held the musician to him. "We did it."

Sammy locked up at the grip on him, but relaxed enough to return it. He all but melted in his grasp. He perched his chin on a shoulder and let himself be held. No more ink or voices or the need to worship any man or demon. "It's over."

"Fellas."

Both men turned to Buddy, who was staring down at the ground.

"Something's up."

The two let go of each other, Sammy setting a hand against Henry's shoulder.

"What's wrong?"

Buddy pointed to the group of people who'd been off in a corner of the lot. "Uh, no one there is breathing."

The two men looked at each other and made their way to the still group. There were several bodies, all intact but very much dead. Some in their Sunday Best, others in work clothes from decades past.

One, and older man with ligature marks around his neck.

Sammy gasped, pointing with a spidery hand. "That's Grant." He swallowed thickly before looking across at the dozen corpses. "Like I said, I don't know how it worked, but… I guess when you feed a corpse into the machine, that's all you get back."

"Yup. Sounds right," a low growl of a voice called out.

The blond turned to the gruff voice.

Sitting on the grass next to a pale blonde woman was a bull of a man. He looked to be in his fifties, with gray just touching the charcoal of his short, tight curls. His left arm ended before the elbow, a clean stump where the rest of the limb should have been.

Sammy squinted. "You're Tom… right?"

He raised his left arm and pointed with the end of the stump. "Yup. You're Sammy, there's Henry, this here's Allison." His steel-gray eyes fell on Sammy and fixed him with a flat look. "Your singing's rusty as an old fan belt."

The thin man scoffed but bit his tongue.

"I saw her fall in and followed her. Dunno why my mind stayed, but I knew she needed me there." Tom brushed his dark knuckles against the woman's pale cheek. "My job to keep her safe."

Henry swallowed. "Is she-"

"Out cold but alive." Tom took his focus off them and placed it onto Buddy. "Who're you?"

The teen looked up from his shoes for a second. "Buddy. The other Boris." He blinked and turned to Henry a little. "I gotta find Norman."

The cartoonist nodded. "You do that."

"Okay." The teen took off at a sprint that was all too familiar.

Tom sighed lowly. "I'll get one of you if she needs help, but I got it for now."

"Good." Henry turned to Sammy, now realizing how bright his eyes really were. No longer glowing gold but glacial blue and so intent on his own. "Okay. We need to check on everybody here. See who we can find and name. Then… I don't know." He looked around with pinched brows. "There's at least a hundred people here, Sammy."

"Yes." He gave his best reassuring smile, which felt more like a sneer. "Let's get to work. I'll find you."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

An hour into it, and the two had made plenty of progress. So many people remembered themselves and their friends, and every positive boosted their spirits just a little more.

Buddy, however, had some trouble finding Norman Polk. He couldn't remember faces for the life of him, but Norman in the studio didn't have a face, he had a projector!

"Norman." He called out at a safe, non-shout volume. "Norman, it's Buddy. Norman?"

"Hey."

The teen turned to the hoarse, low drawl of a word. "Norman."

The elderly black man grinned from where he sat against the fence. "Yep."

Buddy crouched and grabbed the man's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Don't think anyone'd be okay after all that!" But he said it with humor, even with his eyes far off.

"Okay. Same here. Uh… you okay if I leave you alone?"

"Don't have a cable to keep you close now, do I?"

Buddy cracked a smile. "Guess not."

Norman patted the teen's hand. "You go on. I'm not moving for a good long while yet. But good to see your real face."

"You have a head now."

Norman chuckled, a rasp of a noise. "That I do."

"Okay. I'll be back."

"Get to it, Buddy."

Buddy did, but he didn't run this time. He didn't want to startle the person he was searching for.

He walked over to a woman who'd set herself off from the rest of the groups. He saw her stand and take off running on wobbly legs but Norman was his first thought. She seemed familiar, but everyone did considering where they'd all come from. He stayed well away, out of arm's reach. Her delicate hands brought to mind claws, even with short nails. He blinked. "You Susie?"

The raven nodded, eyes still frantic as they locked on his. "I am."

Buddy gestured to himself with a splayed hand. "Buddy."

The color drained from her face, and she backed away. "Jesus Christ."

"Nope. Just Buddy. Uh, Daniel's my actual name but-"

"Get away from me!" She scuttled away with a squeak.

The teen frowned. "Okay. But, uh, I'm not mad." When she said nothing in return, he continued. "Okay, a little, but-"

Sammy made his way over the moment she raised her voice. Her squeal was hard to miss in the slow-to-wake crowd. He steered the increasingly confused teen away from Susie with a firm hand. "Buddy, did you find Norman?"

"Yes."

"Good. Go back to him for now. I'll handle this."

The teen headed away without a word. Better than being yelled at.

The tall man took a breath and frowned, eyes leveling Susie with a scowl. "So then. You're awake?"

"Y... yes. Very awake and…" She swallowed and took a step forward. "Sammy, I'm sorry."

The blond sneered. "You're gonna have to specify."

Susie sneered back, driven by fear more than malice. "Right, like you did nothing wrong."

Screw it. He had his spine back in more ways than one. Time to let fly! "Last I checked, I was trying to fix what I did when I saw the loops were real. You took it as an opportunity to torture a kid so you could hurt the one person who could help." He grit his teeth her way. "I had to fight my way back to sanity from the blackest pit of hell. You had your sanity and ignored it for your own idea of fun."

"How was I supposed to believe Henry could free us? You didn't offer any solid proof! You don't know-" she jabbed a finger at him, eyes burning- "jack shit about what I went through as some stupid angel."

He drew back and exhaled slowly. "Yeah. I don't. And frankly, I don't care." He wasn't like Norman, who'd seen a friend fall into the madness of the ink and understood to a point. He couldn't even say he wanted to forgive Susie. Sammy shook his head at her. "We're free. There's nothing left to say to you."

"Guess our little heart to heart meant nothing."

"Like it meant anything before."

The woman sniffed wetly and hugged herself from her spot by the tree. "Then leave me alone."

He did and searched the crowd for Henry. He'd done plenty. He'd done enough. His little sheep was-

No. Don't think like that. Don't think of that. Do not.

Henry was easy enough to spot. In the growing crowd, he stood out. His mosstone shirt had been a beacon to spot in the inky depths, and now it called him still. "Henry."

"There you are." Drawn out slowly like he'd found a missing cat. He patted a space of the fence beside him, giving a lopsided smile. "Take a break."

A sigh. "Gladly." But when he didn't feel the cold chain-link against his back, he paused. A lithe hand reached back, and the musician pulled his banjo around. He blinked at it. "... well. Of all things to survive." Adjusting his grip, the blond gave it a strum. "And still in tune. How about that?" He slid it to rest out over a shoulder. "Might be awhile before I play it up here."

"Makes sense." Henry smiled at the instrument, before finding Sammy's hand.

The blond drew back and grimaced, brows sunk low. "I… not here."

"Like I said, I don't care what they think. But I won't push, okay?"

Sammy pointedly looked away, and slid his icy, shaking hand into Henry's.

Henry smiled softly with a small squeeze.

It slowly sunk in that no, he would not be struck down for doing what was in his nature. "Like anyone here would say a thing to their savior." Sammy sniffed.

"We can talk this out when we have a minute free, okay? Let's just… I don't know, find a payphone?"

Sammy swallowed the lump in his throat. "Fantastic. Anyone have a dime? Need to make a phone call to… oh, god, who do we even call?"

"Dunno that, but I got a dime! Won't get ya far for a phone call, tho. And hey! Joey didn't say nothin' about a whole reunion!"

Henry and Sammy both turned to find none other than Wally Franks, much older and just as clueless, in the fence's opening.

Henry grinned at the man and made his way over, letting go of Sammy's hand. "Wally! There you are!"

"Yeah, here I am!" He looked over Henry's shoulder, brows up in shock. "Jeez, what happened over there?"

"You don't remember?"

"Remember what? I just got here!" He pulled a letter out of his pocket and held it up to Henry. "Got a letter from Mr. Drew to come by for a visit. Phoned him last month sayin' it'd take a while for me to get up to the old place."

Henry blinked, eyes wide. "You… weren't here already?"

"Nope! Took off for Florida after Bendy-Land went under. And it looks like that was the best thing I coulda done! Smart enough to know when to jump ship!" The former custodian grinned at the approaching Sammy. "Sammy! I haven't seen you in forever! You ever find that key ring I lost?"

The blond felt the familiar irritation bubbling up, but he barked out a laugh. "My god, some things never change!"

"Says the guy that ain't aged a day since I last seen him! What are ya even wearin'?" He crossed his arms and grinned cheekily at Henry. "So Henry, mind filling your favorite janitor in?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Meh. I got time. But as soon as we get this sorted, I'm outta here!"

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Henry folded the story for the police and the press down into something believable; Joey Drew had slowly lured multiple people who had worked for him prior to his dwelling, a secluded and small house near the old studio of the same name. Once in his home, he'd drugged them and taken them to the studio itself, keeping them locked up in the bowels of the building. Henry, the latest addition, was able to escape after knocking Joey out and stealing his keys.

When Joey Drew couldn't be found, the police put out a warrant for his arrest… an arrest that'd never come. All the police found was an old machine, busted to bits and sitting in the former house of Joey Drew. The place looked the same as Henry remembered it from the hundreds of loops, save for the layer of dust on everything. Shoe prints were the only disturbance in the grime.

Believable story, if heavily fabricated and filled with holes.

As for the truth? The FBI handled that part. They even handled the parts that made little sense. The feds wanted the situation handled as quietly as possible… and they had the funds to do it.

The men in black believed the truth. They even footed the bill for the motel until people could contact family members or get settled. If Henry didn't know better, he'd think they'd dealt with something like this before.

But what did Henry know? He'd felt like he'd spent years in the studio, but in reality, he'd been gone for two weeks.

Two weeks. It seemed so tiny.

First thing he did was call his daughter and let her know the public version of his sepia-toned nightmare, have her fill in her little brother when she had a chance. He'd give Amber and Chester the full version, eventually.

Funny how much the feds wanted the whole thing kept quiet. They'd slipped a business card under every door with phone numbers for anything the freed people could need, from where to call for a lawyer to where to call for therapy.

One by one, people filed out of the motel.

Henry offered all of them his address and phone number. That little sketch pad had some paper left, even after so many doodles and sketches filled it out.

Shawn didn't even stay a day. He called a cab and headed out the second he got the all-clear from the feds doctor.

Lacy and Bertrum were gone after a few days, workaholics to their cores and eager to be together again.

Buddy managed to get in touch with his mother and got Henry's address and number before heading out. But not before hugging the older man with all his might and promising to call.

Norman was openly welcomed to stay with Buddy and his mother until he could better figure his future out. The elderly man hadn't had a family to go back to, so Buddy stepped up when he got the chance, so long as Norman didn't put a leash on the kid.

Allison and Tom took the week to place calls and figure out what they'd lost while trapped in hell. Tom's electrician business had somehow survived, giving the couple something to work on and fall back to. A miracle in its own right. They'd been trapped the shortest amount after Henry, but seven years was still too long. But, they had each other and enough to have a life to go back to.

Jack's sister was ecstatic to have her baby brother in one piece. She had him loaded into her car and headed to New Jersey within three days. No idea if the mustachioed man got an address for Henry or not gone in such a hurry!

Susie called her brother, and that was that. She had Henry's address, but time would tell if she'd ever use it. She didn't say a word as she got in the car and was driven out of sight.

Everyone else? Well…. Henry didn't know their names. Didn't know their stories. But he had his number and address available to all who might need it.

That left Henry and Sammy, with two entire days left on the feds dime.

Henry put up for another week. Just for he and Sammy. Just to talk things out, figure out where they were now that they were free. The feds paid for the doctor to hang back in case anything new cropped up, but after that? They'd have to call a number on the card.

Motel chairs weren't comfortable, but they beat a booth with a demon by the door. The little two-top by the window did the job… even if it reminded him of Buddy's hide out.

How long would this take for him to shake? To stop seeing sepia and sharp shadows?

The bathroom door opened and out stepped Sammy. His hair wasn't the rats' nest it had been, but it couldn't be comfortable to have it tied up with a rubber band. The clothes only sort of fit, but they covered him. No more overalls or mask. Just blue eyes and a sharp smile.

Henry swallowed. "So… how are you feeling, Sammy?"

"I'm back to my blond bastard self, I can promise you that." He counted four and four, fingers thumping out a tarantella. "Not the inky monster you fell for."

Henry chuckled. "You fell for me."

"Did not." He did.

"You kissed me first."

"You kissed back, little sheep." Sammy froze at the slip up. Maybe the ink had lasting effects. He'd only know with time.

"Not the first time, but I came around by the second." The cartoonist glanced over his glasses, brows raised. "You know… I wouldn't mind if that was my new nickname."

"If it were that simple, I wouldn't be this nervous." Sammy ran a hand over his hair, still shocked by the softness and the fact his tresses had returned.

Henry peered over his glasses. "Then what's got you worked up?"

A sigh that filled the room, and the thin man sat across from him with a thud. "Down there… we could do what we wanted without fear of being torn apart for just that." Sammy tapped his fingers in a staccato rhythm, eyes downcast. "But here, where anyone can see us… well. Forgive me if I worry. What we have isn't exactly… well. Safe. Up here, I mean."

Henry's warm hand grasped his, and he looked up.

Henry smiled sadly. "I understand. If you don't want to pursue this anymore, I mean."

Oh shit. "What?"

"I paid for an extra week, in case you changed your mind." Henry broke eye contact. "If you needed time to sort things out that didn't involve me, you'd have it."

"Henry?"

"You're allowed to say no. We don't have to be anything but friends up here if you're-"

"No!" The blond cried out, stricken. "No, that all came out wrong, I… I want this more than anything, Henry!" He turned his hand to lace their fingers and stubbornly squeezed back. "But I'm not naïve. It's our safety, our lives…" he trailed off. "I don't know what I might do if someone tried to harm you because you chose me."

"Things aren't like the thirties, Sammy. There's still a lot to be careful about, but where I live, it's not as bad." Henry's smile widened as he lay his other hand over Sammy's. "I think you'll like Pasadena. Right by San Francisco. There's a lot of people like… us. At least, that's what I've heard." If the two lady 'cousins' living to his left meant anything.

"... really?"

"Really. And my neighbors know me as the man who made a comic strip for the Sunday paper."

"Opposite side of the country, quiet neighborhood. I can get behind that." Sammy looked back up at Henry, and ice blue met warm hazel with hope. "If anyone has an issue with us… well, push comes to shove, I'm good with an axe."

"Please don't kill anyone."

"No promises."

"Sammy." But any scolding tone he used dissolved into a chuckle. "No one's nosy in my neighborhood. The back yard's fenced in with a garden. We have a community pool, too. Good beaches, a couple of jazz clubs."

Sammy smiled, feeling his cheeks tinge with pink. "It sounds lovely."

Henry's lids lowered a fraction, the smirk growing. "There's a standing piano in my living room."

Oh, sweet talker. "... does it work?"

"It needs attention, but the best things do."

"Sold." Steadying his breathing, the blond leaned in and gave Henry an almost shy kiss on the lips. A peck, if barely. He pulled back and tried to school his expression back to confidence, not the dopey smile he was sure had to be breaking through. "Was… that allowed?"

Henry leaned forward and kissed Sammy, lingering longer than the blond had.

Flushed with a heart full of helium, Sammy Lawrence tilted his head and unquestionably accepted that, yes, this was allowed.

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