Looking Back

"Okay, Mikey, listen up and listen close," Bonnie instructed. "The guitar is a sacred instrument. If you pay attention to what I have to teach you, you will join a noble line that stretches back to the fifties and the Golden Age of rock n' roll. But disappoint me, tarnish this sacred trust in anyway, then the spirits of those before will show you no mercy. Get me?"

Mike gulped. Even though he'd learned never to approach Bonnie without some measure of caution, the seriousness of her tone was giving him cause for concern. When he'd asked for a go at trying to play the electric guitar, he didn't know she'd be this zealous about it.

"U-Um… sure, B-Bonnie," he replied eventually.

"I can't hear you." She leaned right into his face. "Say it louder."

"I-I said I get you!" he cried.

"Good." Her face broke into a smile. "Hey and try to relax. It's just a guitar, no need to be so spooked about it."

Mike groaned as she laughed. "I hate you."

"I know and it makes me feel so warm inside," she said sweetly. "So, let's start with the basics. At the very least you're holding it right."

"Thanks," he deadpanned.

"No problem. Right, first off, you need to know your strings. Here at the top we have your E string, that's low E by the way. One below that is A string. Next one is a G string. Should have no trouble remembering that one, ya perv." She snickered as Mike blushed. "Then it's B string and last but not least the high E."

She went through it a few more times until Mike could recite all the strings by himself. He managed it after three tries.

"Nice work, Mikey," she praised. "We're off to a good start."

"I suppose, but we haven't even started playing yet," he noted.

"Yeah, but I wasn't going into this with high hopes anyway," she said. "Frankly, I'm surprised we made it this far."

"Remind me again why I decided to let you do this?" asked Mike.

"Because you've seen me playing these strings like a fiddle with such ease and skill that you wanted to try and follow in my epic footsteps, so I graciously decided to approach you with the opportunity." She patted his head. "Really, Mikey, it's only natural. But I will say don't aim for the impossible."

"Oh yes, that's why," he muttered. "Wait, how can you play a guitar like a fiddle?"

"Shut up. A girl can dream. Right, moving on. Let's get you playing and see how fast you fall apart. Let's start with a C chord, pretty basic." Her fingers strummed once across the strings. "Even at basic, I still sound good. Now, let's see that again, this time in slow motion."

She showed the strings he was supposed to be strumming across and had him number his fingers from one to three. He pressed two fingers on his other hand on the space between the two middle strings, what she called the fret. Everything seemed to be going well.

Then, he tried playing. Both he and Bonnie grimaced at the discordant sounds that came out of the speakers.

"O…kay," Bonnie said slowly. "That was… well, it was… oh, I hate sugar-coating, it sucked. But hey, it's just your first try. Give it another go."

Mike tried, but his first attempt turned out to be a precursor to his further attempts. He'd get close sometimes, but he'd always slip and play the wrong string and he'd do even worse on his next try. It wasn't long before his failed attempts drew some attention.

"By thunder, what is tha' unholy noise?!" Foxy peered out of his curtain. "Sounds like Bonnie torturin' a cat!"

Bonnie snickered, but stopped when she saw Mike's stare. "What?"

"Bonnie," he asked in a low voice, "you… haven't tortured a cat, have you?"

"Aw, come on, Mikey! I don't torture cats…"

Mike didn't like the way she put emphasis on the last word, nor the way she smiled afterward. He laughed nervously.

"C-Come on, Bonnie, don't try and mess with me again." But she kept that smile. "B-Bonnie? Y-You are just joking, r-right? Right?"

"I don't know, Mikey…" Her smile grew a fraction. "Am I?"

Mike shuddered. "Sometimes, I don't know if you're worse wearing your suit or not wearing it."

"And I'll just keep you guessing," she said with a wink. She looked to Foxy, who was approaching the stage. "Who said you could join us?"

"Oh." He stopped at the foot of the stage, looking forlorn. "Well, sorry. Guess I'll jus' get goin'…"

"Foxy, lighten up," she said, rolling her eyes. "I was just kidding. Now, get on up here you old scallywag."

"Oh. Righ'." He forced a smile. "I knew tha', 'course I did." He climbed up to join them and spotted the guitar Mike was holding. "Ahh, and the mystery is solved. Learnin' from the master, eh?"

"Trying to," replied Mike. "Was it that bad?"

"Aw cripes!" Foxy immediately looked contrite. "I'm sorry, lad! I didn't mean ta sound so harsh! I jus' said the firs' thing that came outta me mouth withou' thinkin'! If I'da known it was jus' ye, I'da-!"

"Dude, chill pill," cut off Bonnie. "Mikey knows you didn't mean anything by it, right?"

"Yeah, it's fine, Foxy," assured Mike. "I'm not exactly Jimi Hendrix." He took the strap off his shoulder. "I don't think I'm cut out for this anyway. I'll leave it to the master."

"Hey, don't be like that," said Bonnie quickly. "I know it wasn't the best start, but don't go giving up when you've just started."

"No, it's fine," he insisted. "I was only curious and my fingers are starting to hurt a bit anyway. Thanks for showing me anyway."

"If you say so," Bonnie shrugged. "If you change your mind, just gimme a buzz. We can have you playing like your old man, if we work at it."

Mike smiled. "He did tell me that he was garbage before someone much better took him under his wing."

"Good he knew his place was beneath me then," she laughed. "But seriously, he was pretty good. Not as good as me maybe, but together we made Smoke on the Water, like, fire on the ocean. Know what I mean?"

"I… don't think that makes complete sense," admitted Mike. "But I get the picture."

"Yeah, he was pretty awesome, your dad," recalled Bonnie. "Never afraid to stick his own neck out if it meant trying something new and even if he failed, he made himself look pretty good while doing it. Or at the very least it was funny to watch him fail spectacularly. But he always laughed it off anyway, like he didn't really care."

"Really?" asked Mike. "When I was growing up, he usually preferred to keep his head down. Never really liked to make trouble."

"I think I can get why. Anyway," she said quickly when Foxy started to look guilty, "he was a pretty cool guy when he worked here. What was it he did with you, Foxy? Sword fighting?"

"Hm? Oh, aye." Foxy brightened up a bit. "I taught 'im all I knew and he was a dab hand when he got the hang of it. Used ta do fights with me durin' the day if he volunteered fer the day shift an' I needed 'im fer it."

Mike nodded approvingly. "That must have been pretty cool to watch."

"Aye, we put on quite a show," agreed Foxy. "He would usually be the villain in me stories, but he'd never mind. Really threw 'imself inta the role an' had a blast while he did it."

"I guess he really loved his work," said Mike. He was still amazed at how this man sounded so much more different from the man who raised him. "I wish I could have seen it."

"Ya never know, ya jus' migh'." Foxy's smile brightened. "I jus' had a thought! How 'bout I show ya a few things too?"

"Me?" asked Mike, surprised at the offer. "You mean, sword fighting and stuff?"

"Aye, lad! It's been a while since I've had a proper duel with someone! Ye could even perform with me fer the kids!" he suggested excitedly. "You an' me, like Jack Sparrah an' Will Turner! Whaddya say?"

"Um, thanks Foxy but uh, I've never really liked being the centre of attention like that. I get stage fright easily," murmured Mike.

Foxy's face fell. "Y-Ya sure abou' tha', lad?"

"Yeah, sorry. I was never much into physical stuff either," he added. "I'd always get picked last for the soccer teams at school and the first to be knocked on his ass during football. Sorry."

"No, no, it's fine, lad. I understand." Foxy sighed. "Woulda been a fine thing, but I won't push ya."

"Come on, don't be so down, Foxy." Bonnie smirked and flexed her neck. "If you wanted a fight so bad, you should have just said so."

"Wha'? Bonnie, wha' are ya-?" He was cut off when Bonnie suddenly dived at him and knocked him off the stage. "Arrrgh! What's possessed ya, lass?!"

"What's the matter? Too scared to hit a girl?" She yanked his arm into a lock. "Say uncle! Say it!"

Foxy growled and grinned. "Ya wish, lass!" He sharply rolled to the side and forced her off, leaping to his feet with surprising suddenness. "That all ya got, long ears?!"

"Oh just you wait, short snout!" She put on a ninja fighting pose. "I'm just getting started!"

Mike watched as the two of them started to grapple with each other. He wondered if he shouldn't try to break them up, but decided against it. Foxy seemed to be a little down tonight and he had a feeling this might cheer him up. He also didn't want to be caught in the crossfire. He propped the guitar Bonnie let him borrow against an amp, climbed off the stage and made his way back to the security room.

He sat down in his chair and picked up the monitor device. The camera was on the dining room just as Bonnie and Foxy rolled past. He laughed a bit and started to cycle through them. In the relative quiet of his room, a creeping thought started to edge its way into his mind.

Looking back on that conversation, he began to notice something he'd tried to ignore. He found himself being… well, bothered whenever they mentioned things his dad used to do. After failing to play the guitar and listening to Bonnie recall his dad so fondly, it had been nice hearing about it but at the same time, he'd felt rather bad for some reason. When he'd turned down Foxy's offer, he'd felt a twinge of guilt when he saw Foxy's face.

Another thought occurred to him. Were they trying to make him like his dad when he'd been the night guard? First the game they used to play, then the offer for guitar playing and the sword fighting. It seemed dumb and a part of him wanted to dismiss the idea at once. They were his friends, they liked him as he was. They wouldn't try to make him into something he wasn't… would they?

He stopped the camera on the backstage one. Though it was mostly dark, he could make out Freddy sitting at the table. He appeared to be deep in thought, as he usually was. But there was something else as well. It was hard to make out with his face in shadow and the grainy camera image, but he looked almost sad. Like that time he'd taken him out on Christmas. Mike leaned in to study him closer.

Freddy's eyes flickered to the camera. His thoughtful expression became a hard glare. Mike could feel it even though he was only looking through the monitor. He hurriedly switched it to the strangely quiet kitchen, again feeling guilty. Another to add to tonight's disappointments.

"Don't worry about it," a gentle voice said. Mike looked to see Chica standing in the doorway. "Sometimes, he just needs some time to himself."

"I get that," said Mike. "I still feel bad though. Like I was intruding on him or something. You can come in, by the way."

"Thank you." She took a spare seat and sat next to him. "He'll be a little annoyed, but he won't hold it against you."

"I'll still apologize for it," said Mike. "Is he always like that?"

"Not always," she said. "Most days, he's just fine. He'll spend a few minutes in backstage, but he usually comes out to join in with us at some point. There are some nights though that he'll just want to stay in the back and not come out until we need to wear our suits again. This is one of them."

"Right. Do you know what's wrong with him?" he asked.

"I don't think it's my place to say," replied Chica. "It's just a very personal matter for him. He'll be back to his old self by tomorrow night, I'll bet."

"I hope." Mike looked at the camera on the monitor that would bring up backstage. "I don't know though. I still feel like I should try and say something to him."

"Trust me, Mike, he needs this," insisted Chica gently. "We've tried to talk to him about it, but he always says he's fine and not to worry. He gets very defensive when we try to pry, so as much we don't like it, it's usually best to leave him be when he's like this."

"If you say so," he sighed. "I still don't like it. Leaving him like that, I mean."

"I understand how you feel." She smiled warmly. "You're a lot like your father, Mike. He never liked leaving him like that either."

"But I'm guessing he didn't?" asked Mike.

"Not even remotely," answered Chica. "Whenever he went backstage to brood, David would always follow him and try to get him to open up. Freddy would carry on insisting he was fine and to be left alone, but he never let up. It would sometimes get… rather fierce."

"Wow. Really?"

"Mmhmm. It would be one of the few times I'd hear Freddy raise his voice. More than once, Freddy would physically evict him from the room. Oh, he would never hurt him, he made sure of that," she added quickly. "But he wouldn't hesitate to if David kept pestering him."

Mike had to admire his dad's bravery. He didn't want to think about the image of the usually quiet, thoughtful man raising his voice, let alone be the cause of it.

"I'll bet he took that well," he said.

"Oh, he'd be absolutely furious," agreed Chica. "But I don't think it was ever really at him. Not really. There would be times that on nights I wouldn't expect him to come out, after a round with your dad, he would."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" murmured Mike, getting that feeling again. Then, he realised he'd said that out loud.

"Mike? Is something the matter?" she asked.

"Oh uh, nothing," he said quickly. "Nothing, I'm fine."

"And just when we were talking about Freddy doing this." Her smile was replaced with a concerned frown. "Mike, I really don't mean to pry, but if there's something you'd like to talk to me about. Anything at all. You know you can."

He was going to insist again that it was nothing. But denying Chica anything was always something he had difficulty doing. She was always so caring, the way those eyes just seemed to say 'please, let me help'.

"Chica, um… can I ask you something?"

"Of course you can," she said kindly. "What's on your mind?"

"Uh… not really sure how to ask this," he muttered.

"That's okay. Take your time."

"Well… am I good?" he finally asked.

"Good?" she repeated, confused. "Good at what?"

"At my job. At guarding this place and… you know, looking after you guys," he clarified awkwardly. "Well, maybe I don't really look after you but… you know what I mean…"

She seemed to consider his question. Then, that warm smile returned.

"Mike, you should know the answer to that. You accepted for who we are as your friends. You helped Foxy get back on his feet. And have you forgotten what you did for us at Christmas? You're a wonderful guard and a good friend. One of the best we've had in a long time. Why would you feel the need to ask that?" she asked.

"No reason," he said. "Just self-esteem issues, I guess."

"Oh no. We can't have that." She thought for a moment. "I think I know what might cheer you up a bit."

"You don't have to do anything, Chi-"

"Ah buh buh buh." She placed a finger over his mouth. "I insist. I don't want to see my favourite night-watchman upset. First, um, can you check to see where Bonnie and Foxy are? On the cameras, I mean."

"Uh, sure." He noted her cheeks were a bit red and started to cycle through the cameras. "Why?"

"Just… I'd rather they not see this," she murmured. "I-If they knew what I was about to do… they'd never let me hear the end of it."

"Oh…" An image popped up in Mike's mind. One that he'd experienced before with her. "Ch-Chica, you really don't have to uh…"

"No, no. I think I do. I'd just… prefer to do it with no one else watching." She stood up and checked outside the door at the cameras blind spots outside. "Not here. Anywhere else?"

"Both still in the dining room. Looks like they're done with their little play fight. Well, Bonnie has Foxy in a head lock anyway." His heart was pounding as he put down the monitor. "Okay then."

"Okay then." She took a deep breath. "Well, here goes."

She stood away from Mike. He was at first confused. Until she started moving. She made motions with her hands like chirping birds. Then, she brought them close to her chest and moved her elbows up and down. She bent her legs and shook her hips. She clapped her hands three times and did it all over again two more times.

Mike stared in amazement. He was finding it very hard to fight back a grin and eventually it won out, along with a couple of laughs.

"I-I did say I'd show you sometime." Her face was deep blue from blushing by the time she sat back down. "Please don't ask me to do that again. So embarrassing…"

"Then why did you do it?" he asked, still smiling.

"Because I don't want you feeling down," she murmured. "I wanted to cheer you up. E-Even if it was at my expense…"

"I appreciate it," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "But you don't have to do the Chicken Dance just to cheer me up. Even if it was… well, cute."

"R-Really?" she asked.

"Really. But no offense, but um, I think you sing better than you dance," he added.

"I'll bear that in mind," she giggled. "Maybe just a little song next time then?"

"If you like, but just talking helps. Thanks, Chica," he said sincerely.

"You're welcome." Her eyes flickered to her shoulder and Mike realised his hand was still there.

"Oh." He quickly removed it. "S-Sorry."

"It's fine." She shuffled on her feet awkwardly. "I um, still have a little work to do. Come on by later, i-if you still need to talk."

"Sure," he nodded stiffly. "Have fun. I'll be here. If you need me, that is."

"Okay. H-Have a good night, Mike." She lingered in the door for a moment, then left down the corridor.

Mike flicked to the cameras and watched her go. She lingered again and almost looked like she was going to come back. Then, her shoulders slackened and she kept on walking. He sighed and leaned back in his chair. Most of the time, they'd be fine but on occasion… something like that would happen. And he had no idea what to about it.

He let out a groan. Why couldn't things be simpler?

He made a check on Bonnie and Foxy again. They'd calmed down now, but that didn't stop Bonnie from feeling like he'd missed out. Though he struggled, he couldn't really do anything as she got him in a headlock of his own and gave him a noogie. Foxy came to his rescue after a few seconds and Mike sat with him his cove, letting him run by some new stories while Bonnie went to see Chica with her smirk on. They heard a loud squeak and some loud clattering from the kitchen a few moments later.

An hour went by and it was time for Mike to go and the gang to get suited back up for the day. He stayed to make sure they all got their pieces in place and left right on at six to wait for the first employee to arrive to start taking over for the day shift. It was usually someone different who came in the door first and today, at about thirty minutes past six, it was Suzie.

"Morning, Mike!" greeted Susie cheerily. "Quiet night?"

"It always is," replied Mike.

"I wouldn't mind switching places with you sometime." She huffed as she slumped into the receptionist's seat. "I wouldn't mind doing a job that would give me some peace and quiet for a change."

Mike smiled knowingly. "I wouldn't mind, but I'm not uh, the best people person. You're good at what you do."

"Aww. Thanks, Mike. That's gonna keep me going throughout my day," she said brightly. "You're good at what you do too. I think I'd go nuts being on my own every night."

"Thanks. Have a good day, Susie."

"You have a good day too! Or a good sleep, whatever," she added.

"Sure thing," he said.

He walked outside to the edge of the parking lot, waving at Mr Johnson who'd just arrived in his car. He never really felt drowsy anymore. At least not until he got back and collapsed on his bed for a few hours of sleep. It was weird how used he was to working at night now.

Mike paused on the street, wondering if he might have breakfast somewhere. Just as he was glancing around, he happened to notice something. Someone, rather. A man, or a woman it was hard to tell from here, standing on the corner of the adjacent street. It was hard to make out anything really. He could tell was they were wearing a grey hoodie pulled over their head and tight fitting jeans.

And they appeared to be looking right at Mike.

He felt a sense of unease. He'd never really felt that good about being around people dressed in hoodies, especially if they had them pulled up. His usual reaction when he saw a group of kids or teens dressed like that was to keep his head as low as possible, not make eye contact, maybe look like he was checking his phone and cross to the other end of the road.

That was what he did. He looked down to get his phone from his pocket and made a momentary act of checking it while he walked the other way. A glance back showed him, to his relief, the hooded person was no longer there. He decided to head into town to a café, get a croissant and a coffee and put it out of his mind.