28- Regret
"Be not far from me, for trouble is near; For there is none to help." - Psalm 22:11
The impression of the violin's strings was still digging into her fingertips as she and Sammy exited the band room, fresh from her first lesson. Had she ever picked up a violin before? No. Any string instrument at all? No. Did it sound like something besides a dying eagle? No. But would Bendy still enjoy it regardless?
Absolutely, Sammy had said.
Her cheeks still burned red with embarrassment- a reaction to Sammy's frustration. And yet despite her atrocious start, he was…patient.
"There, just like that."
"Good."
"No, no-! Here. Like this… No, put it here. And now-! …Better."
Of course, at least every other word out of his mouth was tinged with irritation, but to hear his satisfaction was…fulfilling. Francine could think of a few reasons why as he walked ahead into the main hall of the music department, the glaze of his shoulders shifting with each step under the overhead lights. One, he was talented- truly, sincerely, and utterly talented. He could pluck the banjo like he was casting a spell; he had just swept his arms over the piano like his very presence brought it to life, its driving purpose to sing what he could not tell. His mastery- her undying admiration for him and all like him- was obvious. So what was the second thing?
The weight of esteem sunk down her torso with a catch and release of the dusty air.
She was glad to spend time with him like this. In the entrails of the studio, there was no choice to simply dissolve, to submit and to die once and for all. If one had to suffer an eternity of hope- of the constant breathlessness one feels as a child does waiting for the last school bell to ring- it was certainly ideal to spend it with someone you aren't afraid of.
…Someone you aren't afraid of.
She paused at this notion, arrested mid-step. Francine's comfort melted away as Sammy noticed and returned his gaze, curious and concerned.
As the torn, roughed face of Bendy looked back upon her, the pains of the angel rung in her ears. She could see once again Alice's scowl stare down at Francine while addressing Sammy. She remembered…she remembered the angel disagreeing with everything she believed the prophet to be.
"You found another toy, didn't you?"
Her heart skipped a beat, and Sammy turned to face her, silent.
"…I haven't heard that name in a very…very…long time."
She felt her lip tremble with her pulse as his head tilted, wondering.
"I thought you gave that name to our 'savior.' You know, like everything else about you?"
Sammy's hand raised, reaching to the woman. In the sudden culmination of everything that had led Francine to participate in his worship of Bendy, a flash of doubt stuck her like a sword through the gullet.
"Not that you had much to give in the first place."
Her physical recoil at his reach would bring worst feeling Sammy ever had.
He was left alone, observing his fingers outstretched as the image of his friend hyperventilating rested ahead, purposefully avoiding his consolation.
His reaction to her hers was enough to bring her back.
No. No.
As she could sense sadness and repulsion towards his own nature wash over him, she remembered that he was different now. He needed to be. It was the only explanation. She shouldn't be afraid of him.
He observed her expression of dawning fear melt away, leaving her brow furrowed and her mouth open in thought.
What was Alice talking about, then?
Ah yes, this topic couldn't be avoided any longer. And with it came mysteries decades old that anyone that had been here a second more than Francine would be too fearful to so much as touch them.
"I'm…I'm really sorry."
His spine rested backwards, vertebrae and shoulder blades skimming against the "MUSIC DEPARTMENT" sign, a smaller print of "DIRECTOR: SAMMY LAWRENCE" teasing beside his waist. His head was hung in such a matter that it only could look at his crossed arms and his outstretched leg, the other bent at the knee and pressed where the wall met the floor. He was shuddering, and she knew then the absolute harm she had unleashed.
Of course, any fear was reasonable in this place, but…
The way the corner of his mouth pushed into his cheeks, allowing his teeth to glimmer ever so slightly, reminded her that fear still had consequences.
Watching his body language with utmost care- still not enough to make up for what had just occurred- the woman approached his side and paralleled his lean, eventually lowering her own stare to her folded hands. Her face was red again, but the twang of guilt that accompanied it felt so much more punishing than any awkwardness had been earlier. Francine was experiencing the regret of allowing her doubt physical manifestation- just a second long enough for his own to be born. And unlike hers, his was not going away.
They both felt so small, alone, standing next to each other, trying to imagine what could possibly come next.
"I'm really sorry," she could only say again.
The flesh underneath his fingers was slightly malleable, small dents created by their force. They deepened just a little more at her words, and he sighed. The edge of his lips was round and dark against the grey backdrop of the studio once he turned a little further away.
Oh god, what could she say?
Her own lips were sucked inward under her teeth, scraping as she tried to uncover the best relief she could provide.
…The truth.
"I was…I was thinking about…Alice."
He gasped quietly, shoulders raised and chin twitching her direction. She didn't know what this meant- nor what Alice meant for the matter- but this seemed better somehow. And so Francine continued.
"She seems to…know a lot about you."
It was a simple statement that dropped a truth much heavier than she ever intended. Alice…did know a lot about him. The woman's next words were both a verbalization of puzzlement as well as a plea to understand.
"She knows you, Sammy."
She witnessed his mouth close, and his glare returned to his legs.
"…I suppose she does." And nothing more.
His next gasp was much louder and his next raise of the head much quicker as his grip was joined by hers, her hold tightening his forearm.
"She knew your name."
And suddenly it was all unavoidable. The heart-racing comprehension of the incomprehensible was now a shared experience, and her actions of bitterness melted into those of overwhelming anxiety through his perspective. In the back of his head, he thanked Bendy it wasn't him that she feared.
But this would mean that Alice knew his name…before he knew his.
As his demeanor warped to match this new distress, her grasp softened. As she saw the quiver of his arms return, a strange and unexpected determination crawled into her.
"I want… I think…" She gulped away her apprehension; one needed to be as willful as possible for what she was daring to say.
"We need to talk to her."
And even though Sammy stared at her in utter shock, they both believed her to be right. But…but…
"How?" he questioned incredulously, smuggling his foreboding of the unknown behind proper logic. "She hates me, Francine." Almost soundlessly, he added, "She hates everyone." Firm so he may convey the proper level of danger, his mask swayed to look down upon her. "I…I didn't-…"
Oh, how it frightened her to see him so unsure of his words. She caught a glimpse of an exhale, steadying him for the inevitable.
"There's a reason I didn't want you to know she existed. She's…directly opposed to Bendy and his mercy." He leaned towards her, desperate to communicate his dread. "Gentle sheep shouldn't know they stray so close to the clutches of evil."
Her blood turned to ice as his hand moved to caress the side of her face. It was so mindlessly intimate, unfiltered as he was overpowered by so many terrible possibilities. His voice quaked with an unprecedented amount of disturbance, hardly audible through his realization.
"I could never be forgiven if I let you die, not after all Bendy did to bring you to me."
Breathless.
Shaking.
Scared.
Not Sammy nor Francine had consciously acknowledged till this moment exactly what she had brought to him. It was…a lot. A lot to take in in such a short moment.
His tenderness made her sharp with resolve.
"You- you still should know, Sammy." The woman frowned up at him, an effort to force away his sheltering of both her and himself. "You deserve to know."
Taken aback, his hand gradually lowered to his side. The two disciples stared at their mirror, faith in one another battling with care.
He had one last attempt in him to sway her from danger. It would instead deliver her straight to it.
"The angel has never listened to me, and never will. My very presence would dissuade any measure of reconciliation."
Francine's eyes slid to the floor. He was right. The mere mention of his name was enough for Alice Angel to retrieve every shred of compassion she seemed to have for the mortal, replacing it with odium for each little thing that happened next. No, she had to admit, Sammy seemed unable to coax a single word of clemency from her, and clemency was what they asked for.
The ink man saw her face soften, and he loosened in relief. It was so short lived.
"Then I'll go without you."
What a horrible compromise they had made, he realized as he saw her figure shrink smaller and smaller as she trudged ahead. He should have been with her, but he could not. It was the only way this could bring about even the lightest dash of wisdom Alice seemed to possess.
Did he really want this that badly?
His fingers creased as they held the edge of the entrance, growing more and more taunt with each creak of the staircase she stepped on. Soon, the "HEAVENLY TOYS" banner was directly over her head. She looked back at him. Even so far away, her expression was visible. Eyes wide with stress, fists balled in anticipation…mouth curved in reassurance.
Francine had promised that if she thought she needed him, she'd scream. He recalled the nervous humor that glinted over her as she reminded him that he knew how loud she could scream.
He asked himself once again: did he really want this that badly?
Yes, it was true that he had hid from himself- since the moment he saw Francine at the angel's feet- that she seemed to know things about him that he did not. He did want to know, of course. There seemed to be a reason she loathed Sammy and all associated with him…besides her obvious but inexplicable vexation for Bendy. But no, that couldn't be all of it. Not anymore, not after what she had said.
The woman gradually shifted her head forward to the workshop, shoulders raising and falling in preparation, but she could never be ready. She slipped into the darkness and out of his sight.
No, he didn't want this nearly as much as she did.
The shelf was aside as she had left it. It accepted her entrance but…somehow seemed to whisper she should not. She pushed past this invisible barrier to reach into the angel's light.
The screening room was dark. A few shards of glass shone on the floor, a soft glow reflecting the visage of cartoons above on the TVs, same as before. But Francine faced a roadblock she never considered.
In the space ahead before filled, no one was left standing.
"Alice?"
The woman recognized how quiet her call was. She inhaled to say it again, but it was released in a yelp at the next occurrence.
"Francine, was it?' A voice fuzzed from a speaker overhead. "What…a lovely surprise this is. And so soon…!"
The mortal glowered, unsure if this was sarcasm or not, but shook her head; it did not matter. "I…I-I need to talk to you." She closed her eyes, trying to calm. "P-please."
It was such a terrifying silence until the speaker crackled again in reply.
"It's about Sammy, isn't it?"
Indeed it was. Maybe Alice could see her face, because not a word needed to be said for confirmation.
"I…"
Francine stared at the speaker with such great intensity that her eyes burned.
"…I understand. You have my deepest apologies about before. To you, not him." One could almost hear her sneer. "There's someone I think you should talk to. Oh don't look so incredulous; of course there's someone else that knows Sammy."
Regardless of it is was a jeer or a genuine inquiry, the next question shook Francine to her core.
"How much did he keep secret from you, little cherub?"
There wasn't enough time to realize how fast her pulse was, how much her eyes blinked over and over and over in shock.
"You can find him on Level 14, right out of the elevator up ahead." Sickeningly sweet, turning her stomach. "He's a kindly man, one who knew Sammy very well. I'm sure he'll be willing to help you."
And the speaker clicked, signaling the end of the siren's lure. Francine was downright vibrating with trepidation. She had to go back and tell all this to Sammy-
"Where are you doing, dear? The elevator is the other way."
It hadn't even been a second of looking back before Alice made this comment; yes, she was certainly watching.
Dear god.
This was a crossroads. The woman could go back to Sammy, either in retreat or to inform him that she'd be going…who in the hell knows where. Definitely further than she had imagined, that was for fucking sure. Would he be able to hear her scream even one room further in than planned?
But…if she did go back, would she lose this opportunity for good? Would Alice ever speak to her again? Would she tell…this…someone not to speak to her, either?
Which would be worse: to divulge Sammy's presence, or to completely discard it?
Her gut made that choice before her head could.
As she went deeper into the castle of toys, a swear under the woman's breath was accompanied by the chirp of her guardian angel.
"Oh, by the way? His name is Norman."