I can feel your heartbeat, Andy.

Karen was just beginning to call the police station when the door opened and her son walked in, somewhat tiredly. "Andy!" she cried out. She ran to his side and grabbed his shoulders. "Where have you been, child!" she nearly screeched. "I was just about to call the police, for pity's sake! What did you think you were…." Andy shrugged calmly. "Chucky wanted to go play at some house…" Karen continued to lecture her son until she heard him say, "but it exploded…"

"It what?" she exclaimed. She held his face in her hands. "Oh, my poor Andy, are you okay? Did you get hurt?" Andy smiled as his mother held him tightly in her arms. "Mommy, you're squishing Chucky," he giggled. Karen let out an exasperated and relieved laugh and let pulled back to take a look at her son. Andy, this calm brave little soul.

"Mommy, school wasn't so bad! You and Chucky were right," he said happily. "I think some girls like me. Mommy, what's a hunk? Oh, Mommy…" Karen put her hand over Andy's mouth and laughed fully this time. "Andy, honey, calm down. I can only answer one question at a time. I'm glad you liked school." She elbowed him playfully. "So we were right, huh?" Andy nodded happily. Then he frowned. "Mommy," he said. Karen looked at him. "Hmmm? What is it, honey?" she asked. Andy shifted his hold on Chucky. "I saw that man again today."

Karen stiffened. She had her doubts about that detective. Last time she had caught him talking to her son about that soul-less murderer, trying to scare her son. Andy didn't know anything about Charles Lee Ray, and he didn't need to. "Where did you see him?" she asked cautiously. Although she didn't like Norris too much, her son seemed to be enraptured with him. "When I was going to that house, I saw him watching me. I think he's my guardian angel." Karen would have gone on to shout about whether Andy had spoken to that stranger again or not, but the last phrase caught her attention.

"He's your what?" she asked. "My guardian angel," Andy said again. "Chucky told me about them." Karen watched as Andy held his doll close it him affectionately, like there was some sort of secret going on in between the two of them. Some sort of alarms went off in Karen's head, motherly intuition perhaps, but she kept herself calm. "Well, what did he say about them?" she inquired curiously. "He said… he says he thinks that his guardian angels ran away and left him behind," her son responded sadly. That gnawing feeling was coming strong. Where was Andy getting these ideas? Being left behind? Did Andy feel that he was being left behind? "So," she went on worriedly, "so, what did you tell Chucky, honey?" The moment of truth. She held her breath.

Andy smiled. "I told him it was okay, because I would be there for him, always. I promised," he said, emphasizing promised. Karen's heart dropped. Sweet, right? But everyone knows dolls can't talk. Was Andy expressing his own feelings through his doll? Did he feel he had to be his own guardian angel? She was there for him! She could watch over him. "Andy," she said, quite emotionally. "Listen, honey. You tell Chucky," here she held onto her son's arms and looked into his eyes, hoping he would get the message, "that I will be here too. I am always here for you." Andy grinned. "You mean, for Chucky," he said. Right. Chucky. She nodded. "Yes, sure, for Chucky," she agreed.

"You hear that Chucky?" he somewhat shouted. "Mommy will be here for you too. So you got nothing to worry about!" He walked towards his room, giggling and continuing to babble away to Chucky about how he would never, ever be alone again. Karen stood and watched them, deep in thought. She had to call Maggie about this. Maggie would know what to do. She ran to the phone in the kitchen and picked up the phone, dialing her friend's number frantically.

Maggie was in the middle of sorting "evidence" out with Mike on her kitchen table when Karen called. "Karen?" she asked cautiously. She looked over at Mike anxiously. "Karen, I really can't come over today, I have some things I have to do, I'm sorry…" she was interrupted by hysterical crying from Karen. "Oh, Maggie, it's horrible, just terrible!"she was crying. "My son, my poor son Andy…" Maggie froze. Mike could hear Karen's sobs as well, and his expression was worried, taut. "What is it Karen?" she asked. "What happened to him? Who killed him?" Mike leaned closer to her to hear the answer; they were both expecting the same thing.

They were also both not expecting the response they got. "Killed?" Karen responded, sniffing. "No, no. He's alive and fine… physically. What made you think that?" Mike and Maggie looked at each other, both knowing they had to cover this up fast. "Ummm, you know, Karen! Scaring me like that!" Maggie said with a nervous giggle. "The way you were crying, you know…" she left the sentence unfinished, unsure of what to say. "Oh," Karen said, softer this time. "I know. I'm sorry. No, he's fine. I just…" Mike gave her a thumbs up and continued to listen to the phone. "What is it, Karen?" Maggie pressed. "It's just that, you know, Andy came home from school today, and he started talking about guardian angels and things like that, and I was like, oh, what about them Andy?, and so he said stuff about his doll feeling like he had no one like that for him…" Maggie gave Mike a confused glance before interrupting Karen, "Karen, dear, what does this have to do with why you're worried about Andy?" Karen wails echoed through the phone into the kitchen. "Oh, Maggie! It's psychology! Andy is using his doll to portray his feelings! He feels he has no one for himself! I'm a terrible mother, Maggie, working all the time, and not being there for my son, oh…." Mike was scribbling every word on his notepad; Maggie elbowed him sharply with disgust.

"Or maybe… maybe the doll can talk?" Maggie began. "What? Maggie, are you crazy? What are you trying to say?" Mike flinched and mouthed not good. Maggie sucked in her breath. "Haha… just kidding, dear!" she said, trying to wave away what she had just suggested. "Karen, you are a great mother. Andy knows that. He tells me all the time that he knows just how much you love him." She frowned at Mike, who was still scratching away with his pencil. He was enjoying this scene way too much. Why didn't he stick to being a novelist? "You're doing a great job, Karen," she assured her. "You really think so?" Karen sniffed. "I know so," Maggie said again. "Trust me."

The conversation went on to meaningless things about Andy's first day at school and being called a hunk, which Maggie and Mike had a good chuckle over. When Maggie finally hung up the phone, she and Mike just looked at one another, relieved. "That was close," Maggie said finally. Mike sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Well, at least we know for sure, we cannot tell Karen about our suspicions about the doll." Maggie nodded. Mike stood up from his chair and stretched, muttering something about needing to use the restroom. He had left his notebook behind. Curious, and nosy as usual, Maggie opened it and read what he had written.

There was a full description of Karen and her devoted love for her son. She rolled her eyes. This man really should have stuck to writing novels.

***

Chucky wasn't really responding well. Andy knew something was wrong. He didn't want to move at all. Worse, he wasn't even rude about it. He just lay on the bed, curled into a fetal position. Whether he was cursing under his breath or just groaning in pain, Andy didn't know, but he wanted to fix it. "Chucky?" he asked for probably the millionth time. His doll didn't respond. "Chucky, answer me," he said anxiously. "Are you okay?" Chucky finally peered up at the two worried brown eyes staring down at him. "I'm fine, kid. Really. I'm just having some," he held at his stomach again. "Internal problems. I'm okay," he insisted at Andy's disbelief.

Andy frowned and watched Chucky in his pain. He knew that he was lying. He didn't just want to leave him suffering though. He had to take care of him. He looked towards the door impatiently as he tried to figure out a solution. He caught the picture of him and his dad, when he got to go to work with him one day. An idea dawned on him. "Well," he huffed determinedly at Chucky. "If you won't tell me, I'll find out myself." Chucky didn't reply, so Andy took the liberty of walking to his closet and rummage through the clothes, finally finding the box that he had not opened for a long time.

***

Why am I feeling like this? I hate making that kid worry. It hurts to see him sad. Everything hurts. I hate this. Where did he go, anyways?

Don't leave me. You promised…

Andy was putting on the plastic stethoscope around his neck when he emerged from the closet. Chucky was murmuring something to himself, but Andy could not make out what he was saying. "Excuse, me, Mr. Charles?" he said as professional like as he could. "I'm Doctor Barclay, and I'm here for your appointment." He walked over towards his bed in shoes that were too big for his feet. "I am going to turn you over now, sir," he informed him. He turned Chucky over to face him and put the stethoscope on his chest. The doll's eyes widened a bit, but he still remained silent. "Well, your heartbeat seems to be fine," he concluded. He moved the plastic instrument down to his stomach. "Hmm…" he said thoughtfully. "There seems to be some minor distributions in your tummy." He clicked the pen that was in his coat pocket and scribbled meaningless lines on a miniature clipboard. "I suggest I make you some pear-mint tea, mister," he said. He walked out his bedroom door, then peeked back in, "I'll be back, Chucky!" he told him gleefully.

***

Omigod. I can't believe I didn't see this before….

We've met before, Andy Barclay…