Mable: Here we are with the actual chapter thirty-three. XD Sorry about that mix up with the chapter posting last week. Being that this and 'Our Inner Beasts' are being worked on at the same time, I'm not too surprised that I had a mix up like that. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Can't Go Home Again

Chapter Thirty-Three

"Foxy… Do you remember our sister?"

Marionette felt the question leave him before he could even stop it. By now he had calmed down, so he didn't understand why he was so determined to bring it back up. Foxy was currently leaning against the stage while he was sitting at the closest table, wearily slouching forwards, his arms resting on the table. He had yet to tell Foxy exactly what he saw in the facility; all he had told him was that Mike was in the hospital. Foxy didn't ask questions as he clearly believed this was enough to make the puppet frantic again.

Though this new question appeared and just hung in the air. Foxy didn't answer at first and Marionette turned to look up at him. "…We don't have a sister, Lad," Foxy finally responded. He sounded like he was certain of this, but Foxy's memory wasn't exactly perfect. "I'm pretty certain we did, Foxy… Her room was the back room in the house. I… Can't remember much about her either, but I know she was there." Foxy seemed reluctant to agree with him. "I don't know anything about that, Lad. Don't go worrying about that. You got enough on your mind."

"I guess I do," Marionette quietly agreed. More so, he suddenly backed down from continuing the conversation. He was too weary to be worrying about the past at the moment. There was too much more to be concerned about. He vanished for a few seconds, Foxy staring at the chair where he had been, and then the puppet reappeared. He now had Mike's cell phone which he set on the table and stared at. He felt a surge of exhaustion down his back from the exertion of the frequent teleportation. He rubbed his mask tiredly as Foxy spoke.

"Go to your box. I'll keep an eye out." Marionette wearily looked towards the fox animatronic, "An eye?" His voice way playful and Foxy answered, "Aye." Marionette responded with a light chime of amusement. "I can't sleep without my music box. You know that…" Of course, this wasn't entirely true, but it wasn't like he had Mike. Another example of him being reliant on Mike. However, he was rather tired, and started to cave in, "…But I'll try. I need something." Slowly he pushed up from the table and headed towards the Prize Corner.

Halfway there he stopped and chimed again. "This brings back memories," Marionette admitted, turning back to Foxy. Foxy got a bit of a smile, or how he could smile, "Aye, it does. You were always roaming around at night, passing by me curtain." Marionette chimed again, remembering those long nights. Though just as quickly as he felt better, he was struck by a memory of what Ennard had said about her pizzeria. About how she didn't want to return to being a performer.

"Foxy... You want to be here, right? You aren't just going along with this because I want this, are you?" Marionette asked him. There was clear distress in his tone. Foxy tilted his head, "Course I do. If I didn't want to be here, I'd be shoving off to rougher waters." The relaxed way he said this almost instantly convinced the puppet. "I had to ask. When I was down in the facility, I meant another- I met something. She had mentioned a pizzeria-." Marionette's explanation was cut off by the sound of Mike's phone, the ringing of 'Toreador March'.

Marionette and Foxy both lunged for the phone. Why Foxy even wanted to race for the phone was confusing, but Marionette assumed it was partially to mess with him. Either way, the puppet got the phone first and answered it. He did his best to sound as 'human' as possible over the line. "Hello?... Yes, I'm part of his family. How is he?" He hovered there as he listened to their assessment of Mike's treatment. Foxy listened in as well. "He is? What a relief! We were- We were all very worried about him…" His voice wavered a bit and he listened further.

"… I'll be there. What's his room number?... Uh huh. Thank you so much for taking care of him." Marionette hung up the phone, "Mike's okay!" He beamed in honest relief. "They worked on him for a while, but he's going to be fine. They said that visiting hours begin at seven... So perhaps I'll head over there and check in on him then. I suppose I should let him sleep, and it won't be too long." He checked the clock on the wall while Foxy agreed. "They'll be in an out fer a couple of hours after all of that. Checking on him. Ye best wait here."

"Then maybe I will try to sleep…" Marionette quietly caved once more as he set the phone down. "I'll need all the strength I can get if I want to slip into his room undetected." Again, Foxy nodded in agreement, and then casually put an arm around the younger. "Come get in yer box. Foxy'll stay with ya," Foxy promised. This almost seemed like it would work. Marionette nodded and allowed himself to be escorted to the box. He slipped inside, "Foxy, thank you." The fox animatronic gave what almost looked like a shrug.

"This is what big brother's are supposed to do," he admitted. Something in his tone betrayed more than his words did, but Marionette smiled thankfully and slid into the box. Curling into himself he tried to force relaxation. Mike would be fine, sleeping would help pass the time, and Foxy was here to watch him. It would be fine.

"Da di dum dum dum da dum dum…"

"So, did you ever work here, or…?" Fritz looked up from the broken HandUnit he was fiddling with and to Jeremy. "I was here once or twice, but I never worked here. I only stopped in to move stuff with Chance or to get tools. They worked pretty closely with Freddy's, even after William Afton stopped working there." The younger shuffled around and watched as the elevator lowered, "Did you know Afton? He was the guy running this place, right?" Fritz shrugged, "I'd guess so, unless it was a family owned business. Never met him before."

The HandUnit would need work, but Fritz was confident that he could, at least, try to get some data out of it. It probably was brimming with audio files, perhaps even some from the elusive Phone Guy. "He, Henry, and Fredrick worked together for a while, but that was before I started working there. By time I was a technician, Henry was dead, William disappeared, and Fredrick started going gray," Fritz explained further. "I really wasn't working there much earlier than you were, you know?" Jeremy nodded, then flinched as the door opened.

While Jeremy was confused about climbing in through the vent, Fritz took it in strides and simply went ahead with it. Once in the main office, they could see more evidence of a struggle. Some blood was smeared above one of the vents and a strange doll laid on the ground. Jeremy reached down and nudged it, receiving no response. "How… Far in do we have to go?" he asked quietly. He was already starting to dread the incoming journey. "It's not much further inside. We have to head through another vent," he pointed directly at the forward vent.

"That vent. It should be past another room and in the… Circus Gallery." He squinted at the small, cursive writing. "I don't know how he expected me to read this." He then headed towards the vent and crouched down, shining his light inside. After a few moments, he started to crawl inside. Jeremy only lingered in the office for an extra moment before following behind, tucking the wooden doll into his zipped jacket. The vent let out into the Circus Control Room. Fritz took a few minutes to try and turn the lights on. This didn't work.

"Alright, so we're going in with our own lights alone. You brought yours, right?" Jeremy fumbled to bring his own flashlight out. "Good. Just stick close and we'll find it," Fritz insisted and slid through the brief crawlspace into the Circus Gallery. "Why didn't the puppet come with us? If Mike's at the hospital anyway, he could've come down here," Jeremy pointed out as he followed suit and entered the room. He shivered as he started to shine his flashlight around, "This is so much worse than Freddy's. I should've- I should've just waited in the- Look at all the bodies!"

His flashlight fell over the multiple, small animatronics laying around the room. Some looked like babies, some looked like ballerinas, but none of them moved. "What happened down here?!" he whispered out harshly. "I don't know. Whatever it was… Hey, look who it is!" Fritz shined his light over the female clown in the corner. Jeremy flinched back at the sheer size of the body, "That's not what we're moving, is it?" Fritz shook his head, wandering over towards the animatronic shell. "I'm pretty sure Marionette would've said if that was the case."

Fritz splayed his hands out in its direction, as though dramatically introducing it, "It's Baby!" Jeremy stared at him blankly, no recollection in his eyes. "…Circus Baby? Circus Baby's Pizza World?" Jeremy fidgeted with his glasses. "…Okay, never mind," Fritz caved and instead turned his attention on the animatronic herself. "Looks from here like it's been gutted for parts a long time ago." Jeremy groaned from behind and started to search around the rest of the room with his light. "Let's not talk about 'gutting' until we're back in the van… There's another one."

Jeremy's light fell onto a broken magician animatronic sitting off to the side. It didn't take long before they were both standing before the broken form. "This is it," Fritz announced, checking the map again. "Same location and everything. This has to be it… But," he lowered the map and stared at the animatronic's limp frame. "He said it was responsive. This looks a lot worse than I expected it to be." But this didn't mean that Fritz believed he couldn't repair the animatronic. It would be a hard job, but he could do it.

"I think we can lift him. He can't be any heavier than Balloon Boy, and-…Wait here. I'm going to find another way to the elevator; an access hatch or something. We're not going to be able to move him through a vent," and thus, Fritz wandered off into the dark, leaving Jeremy to stand there alone. It was extremely unnerving and he shined his flashlight around to make sure nothing was creeping up behind. His gaze was eventually cast on a poster on the wall of the Circus Gallery. There were a few posters, but on specifically caught his eye.

Or, more so, he instantly recognized the white and pink fox displayed on it. "Mangle?... No, it can't be," Jeremy murmured. He felt uncomfortable just in the vicinity of the image. "No, maybe- maybe another Toy Foxy? Do they have another Toy line?" Panic crept into him yet again as he stared at its seemingly innocent form. He could still feel Mangle's teeth digging into his arm, slicing along his flesh, trying to get to the bone underneath the shredded skin. To think that another one could exist, could easily attack him, was hard to comprehend.

The sound of a squeaking door could be heard on the far side of the room. "Fritz?!" Jeremy gasped out, staring into the dark. To his relief, Fritz called back over, "It's me! There's a way to get to the Breaker Room from over here. If we can get it into the Ballora Gallery, then I can probably find another way to the elevator." He strode back across the room and looked down at the magician. "I'm going to need your help to move him." There was no answer. "Jeremy?" Fritz looked to him and now notice the poster he was staring at. "Funtime Foxy?"

"Why is there one of these down here?" Jeremy struggled to get out. "I thought- I thought the Mangle was destroyed with the other toys. They made more of it?" Fritz laid a hand on his shoulder, "Relax. It just looks the same; Toy Foxy and this Foxy were probably two completely different animatronics… Besides, I don't see it anywhere. This one was probably discontinued as well." This didn't exactly make Jeremy feel any better, but as Fritz pulled him to the side to help in moving the animatronic he sort of became distracted. It was some sort of relief.

Jeremy didn't feel comfortable until he was driving Mike's car back to the warehouse, following Fritz in the van.

Heavy lids opened to reveal glassy blue eyes. Mike roused slowly, still feeling the effects of the medicine being dripped into his body earlier. Now, hours later, he still felt groggy and looked around the hospital room slowly. Something had woken him and he couldn't tell what it was at first. Looking over he could see the door, which was one propped open, was now only open a crack. Some sunlight came through the blinds, signaling that it was already morning. Regardless, Mike was still feeling relatively good. He couldn't even feel his stitches.

For a moment, he saw movement in the corner along with a dark spot in the corner of his vision. Looking over, he could see that Marionette had suddenly appeared in his hospital room. The puppet was smiling wider than usual and hovered closer to the bed. "I'm glad to see you're awake! How are you feeling?" Mike cracked a smile right back, "Feeling great… You're looking chipper, Skipper." Right after he said this, Mike got a confused look, paused, and then chuckled a little. "I don't know what they gave me, but it's working great."

"Wonderful! I was worried that you would be in pain." Marionette reached out to touch Mike's arm that was above the blanket. Mike raised it a bit and Marionette took it as a sign to wrap his hands around Mike's own. As he did, he studied the bag of clear fluid dripping into his system. "They already finished giving you blood? That's, you really needed it." Even in his current state, Mike noticed something odd about Marionette's behavior. "Are you okay?" he asked in a blunter fashion than usual. Marionette looked back to him.

"Hmm?... Oh, it's nothing. I'm just tired." He squeezed Mike's hand tighter. "But I wanted to come at the first opportunity. I thought if I came off of visiting hours that they would get too suspicious from the talking." Mike nodded in agreement, "You made the right call. They were in here every couple of minutes after they put me in here. I'm going to have one hell of a scar, but I don't think it's going to be that bad. It could've been on my face or something." Mike was starting to babble, but Marionette didn't stop him.

Instead, the puppet rested his mask against Mike's tightly clutched hand. He wanted to hold him tighter, hug him tightly, but he already knew not to fool with hospital equipment. He was just so glad that Mike was alright. "How long until they release you?" The security guard gave a partial shrug, "Don't know. Can't be that long at this rate." Marionette looked down at their hands, his gaze down casting, "I hope not… I want you home with me. I… Couldn't stand being there alone last night. I had to spend the night with Foxy and he was… Active."

"He didn't do that singing thing again, did he?" Mike asked with an inward cringe. The fact that Mike knew what happened caused Marionette to chime in amusement, pressing his forehead against their clutching hands. "I didn't know you sung. I've heard you hum, but last night was the first time I heard you sing," Mike pointed out. Marionette's grip tensed just a little bit, "I was hoping you wouldn't remember that after everything… But yes, I do occasionally sing. Only on special occasions." Mike quipped a brow, "I don't consider it a special occasion."

"I consider any occasion where I'm fighting for you special enough," Marionette replied. "…I haven't forgotten what happened with him. Back when my face was shattered; you protected me then. It's only fair that I return the favor one of these days." He smiled a little wider, delight in his eyes, and held Mike's hand more securely. The security guard didn't respond at first, as though he was mulling something over for a second. Then he gave a dry chuckle, "I got close, didn't I? If it wasn't for you, I'd be… I'd be dead."

"Don't say that," Marionette lightly scolded. He didn't want to hear those words and he didn't really want to know how close they had gotten. Before he could say any more, he suddenly felt a light jolt in his body, the feeling of being watched, and heard a squeak from the door closing the rest of the way. He straightened abruptly to stare down the door, but Mike tried to tug him back down. "Relax, it's just Jeremy. He was in here earlier," he coaxed, giving an amused smile. Marionette didn't seem fully convinced.

"If it wasn't Jeremy we'd hear screaming and have people in here, right? Jeremy heard us talking and shut the door," Mike stated more seriously. Now Marionette finally relaxed again, "You're right… I'm sorry. You can't blame me for being on edge after everything." Silence overtook the room again. "You need to go home and get some sleep," Mike insisted more firmly down. He was rousing more and starting to come out of his stupor; as such, he was starting to realize that Marionette was clearly more tired than he let on.

"I don't want to go home without you," Marionette explained. "Can I just- Can I stay? I'll leave if any doctors come in, but can I stay until then?" Mike couldn't very well turn him down and nodded, sliding up on the bed a little more. "If you're that determined then I can't stop you." He knew it was a risk, but he didn't necessarily want to be alone. Marionette was pleased by the response and stayed. For a while the puppet was able to stay as well, moving around the room and flittering about as Mike stayed mostly quiet, still trying to fight off the waning medication.

Sometime later, the doctor came in to speak to Mike and Marionette was forced to leave. The security guard wasn't sure where he had gone, but was confident that he was safe. "How are you feeling, Mr. Schmidt?" the old man's voice was surprisingly affectionate. Much more kindly than anyone had been when he came in with the broken hand. "Fine. Sort of out of it, but nothing's hurting," Mike responded. He tried to remember what story he and Fritz gave about how he got his injury in case he was asked again. Unfortunately, he was drawing a blank.

"That's very good to hear. You were very lucky you came in when you did," the doctor stated. "There was no damage to any of your major organs, which was also fortunate, and with the blood you received you should start feeling better immediately. While we could repair the injured muscle to the best of our abilities, you should expect some pain while the wound heals. You will also need physical therapy to make sure that the muscle fully recovers. This aside, I strongly believe that you will be able to recover to full health."

"How long are we looking at?" Mike murmured out and the doctor mentally batted around some numbers. "Well… If you go to therapy as suggested and keep from straining the muscle, then it should be better in a few months. The wound itself will close much quicker. We'll start you on a round of antibiotics to make sure infection doesn't set in..." He trailed off, scribbling something down on his notebook. Mike took this time to speak up, "I meant how long I had to stay in the hospital." The doctor gave a slight shrug, "If all looks well we'll discharge you this evening."

That wasn't exactly what Mike was expected after hearing 'months of recovery'. "Before you leave, we'll show you how to properly dress your wound. The biggest risk facing us is the risk of infection, so these precautions are absolutely necessary." Mike wasn't about to argue with this and instead took it all with unyielding relief. The last thing he wanted was to spend a second night in the hospital; if coming in as late as he had counted as staying all night. The doctor stepped back out, but Marionette did not return.

For the following hours, Mike spent most of his time either waiting or sleeping, as there wasn't much else to do. He was eventually discharged in the late afternoon and, regardless of how much time he slept, felt like he had been dragged through the wringer. The ride back to the house was mostly uneventful. Fritz spent it explaining to Mike about his trip into the facility with Jeremy while Mike partially listened in. It didn't take long to get home and the second the car had stopped in the driveway, parked behind Mike's own car, he started to get out.

"Hey, wait, I'm supposed to be helping you," Fritz called through the window after him. "I left my things," Mike partially joked back. Partially because he did leave the prescription bag and the bag of clothes in the car. Mike had saved the Freddy's uniform even though it would need work before it was in wearable condition. He could only hope that Marionette would be willing to stitch the shirt… And would know how to get blood out of both white and purple fabric. He fumbled with his keys before getting the door unlocked and stepping inside.

He was immediately hit by the smell of chocolate cake. Mike betrayed his own weariness with a small smile; at least he figured out where Marionette had gone. This was only punctuated by the puppet himself suddenly appearing in the room, rushing to his side and fussily overlooking him. "I didn't expect you back so soon! Are you okay? Maybe you shouldn't be standing," he immediately started to fuss over the security guard, only glancing away when Fritz came inside. The technician set down the bags on the dining room table.

"They couldn't wait to get rid of me," Mike cracked back playfully. "But look, I came baring gifts. Prescription pills and bloody clothing for all." He dramatically gestured over, then immediately regretted it as he felt a cinch in his side and a shot of pain. The medicine was still masking most of it, but it was still there. Marionette noticed that he stiffened and telekinetically nudged a dining room chair out, "Sit down. Are you hungry? There's cake." Mike slowly sat down, uncomfortably feeling his back protest further, "I'm not really hungry."

"That's perfect, because it's not iced," Marionette stated matter of factly, jokingly. His tone quickly shifted, "Mike, I think you're supposed to be laying down. This is probably putting tension on your back." He fussily fiddled with Mike's hair, "Though I can tell that you've been in bed quite a bit…" Mike wasn't surprised by Marionette's fussy behavior and slowly exhaled. "I know… I'll probably go lay down in the bedroom. I've been looking forward to staring at the ceiling for hours on end." Marionette took the bag with Mike's clothes and glanced inside.

He shivered in disturbance at the blood. It wasn't as bad as seeing it on himself, but it was still hard to look at. "Think they're salvageable?" Mike asked as he tiredly leaned against the table. "I think I've salvaged much worse," Marionette chirped in a blatantly lie and carried them off to put them on the washing machine. In this time, Mike noticed that Fritz was silently standing there, oddly watching the scene without saying anything. "Something up?" Fritz pulled out of it, "I'm good. Just getting my thoughts together."

"That sounds fun," Mike added in and started rubbing his head again. He wasn't feeling good enough to sit at the table and knew he was going to have to either move to the couch or the bedroom. The bedroom seemed more comfortable, but he would have less to distract him. No matter what the choice it was a lose-lose situation in the long run. "I've got to get going. If you need anything then just call Jeremy or me," Fritz invited. He then looked down the hall at Marionette. "Just try not to get too frisky or anything."

"Frisky?" Mike asked in confusion. "What do you think I'm going to do, play fetch?" Oddly enough, Fritz got a little uncomfortable at this point. Mike could tell as he anxiously coughed into his hand and fiddled with his car keys. "You know what I mean," Fritz spoke. Mike had no idea what he meant. Shortly afterwards he left, all the while Mike stayed sitting at the dining room table, feeling too uncomfortable to move. Marionette returned once again, "I'm glad to be home." He admitted this as he sat down across from Mike.

"It feels pretty great to be back here. Stitches or not, we're home," Mike also admitted. This was a relatively new feeling for him. "You know, all the years I worked at Freddy's I never felt like this. I was glad to go home, but I never felt like I was… I don't know. Something about this feels different." His smile returned, "It feels pretty good. To think, all we had to do is get threatened with inevitable death. Now we get to appreciate coming back to the house." Marionette chimed in amusement at this comment. He was clearly thrilled to have Mike to himself again.

"All in all, it was a small price to pay. I can't say it first hand with you being the one whose injured, but the fact that we got away from there is worth so much more…" Marionette started to trail off. "…I was truly worried about you." Mike nodded in understanding, deciding not to verbally state how embarrassed he was about the situation. For Mike, getting injured to the point where he could barely defend himself was something to be ashamed of. Especially when the injury was caused by him not watching his own feet.

"I wasted time when I saw the magician," Marionette confessed. "And then she went after you. I swear, Mike, if I had known that she was there I would've never stopped." He tightened his hands into fists as they rested in his lap. Like Mike, he was ashamed of an issue caused by his own choice. Unlike Mike, his humiliation came from his inability to protect his companion. Perhaps in the end he had saved Mike, but he couldn't help but think that maybe, if he would've been quicker, the threat wouldn't have been nearly as great.

"Don't worry about it," Mike responded. "She was coming one way or the other. You were there exactly when I needed you, so you've got nothing to feel bad about." Mike, now feeling much more sore, pushed the chair back. "Now that our shared pity party is over, I'm going to go lay in bed and stare at the ceiling." He awkwardly shuffled to the hallway, trying not to move too dramatically. Marionette followed behind him, "That sounds fun and all, but I have a cake to ice. Shall I bring you a piece when I'm finished?"

Mike's hunger hadn't exactly returned, but he gave a shrug of partial agreement. "What the hell, it gives me something to do." As he approached the master bedroom he noticed that he was feeling a bit better. Sore, yes, but somehow a different weight was easing off his shoulders.

They weren't supposed to get home, but they did. This was something worth celebrating, even if everything didn't feel 'back to normal' just yet.

Mable: After an event like that, it's foolish to assume that everything will just return to the state it was beforehand. Sometimes it's easier to believe that everything's alright, but you can't run away from reality for long. Sometimes it comes back to haunt you… But on a more positive note; the next chapter will be posted next Saturday! I think this weekly posting thing is going to work out for the better. ^-^ I hope you enjoyed!