Mable: Remember, guys; to get someone to open up to you, sometimes all you need to do is be nice.

Can't Go Home Again

Chapter Sixty-Two

The van ride was quiet and cold.

Fritz had insisted to go alone, which had concerned both Natalie and Jeremy, but they weren't able to talk him out of it. Baby willingly got into the back of the van and waited for wherever they were going. The two of them just waited without words for the eventual destination. Only once they were nearing their destination, Fritz called back to her to bring her to speed.

"This is the only option other than taking you back to Afton's. Until we can find something better-." He cut off to whisper, "Or get a priest in the warehouse…" Then he went back on track, "You'll need to stay here. Probably for a few days at least." His voice grew more firm, or as firm as he could get it considering the situation. "I'm asking you to listen to what you're told and to not cause any trouble. Please, I don't want to have to take you to Afton's."

"I'll be good," Baby promised. Her voice sounded surprisingly meek. "…Where are we going?"

"You're going to be staying in the garage of a friend of mine," Fritz explained as he glanced along the roads. It seemed like there were too many people out, especially considering that it was already evening. "He'll keep an eye on you, so you should be as nice to him as you can. He's the only reason that I'm not forced to take you back." That wasn't entirely true, but he wanted to psyche her out. If she believed that she needed to be good, then perhaps she would treat Scott with some sort of respect.

He backed the van up to the open garage door before climbing out. There was a man standing in the garage waiting; familiar to Fritz and unknown to Baby's brief glimpse.

"Thank you so much for this," Fritz's struggle was evident in his voice. He sounded exhausted as he opened the doors on the back. "I promise, just a few days, until we can get everything straightened out. She's no trouble." The Phone Guy looked tired, with dark rings under his eyes and his hair somewhat askew.

"You're- You're sure she's not aggressive?" He tried to keep his wobbling voice even. "I don't understand. Why couldn't she stay at the Pizzeria?" Unfortunately, the Phone Guy caught onto cues too quickly.

"She's defective, so we can't have her at the Pizzeria," Fritz half lied. "She just can't be in the Pizzeria for now, but she should be completely safe around you. She's been around Jeremy, Mike, and I alone multiple times." This was true enough. The only person she attacked was the girl. While this was terrible, he expected any adult human to be safe in her vicinity. The Phone Guy didn't continue and simply watched.

Baby stepped down the metal ramp and into the garage. It wasn't very impressive; small, mostly concrete, and housing a washer and dryer. It was warm, at least, and it didn't resemble or feel like the icy basement of Afton's. Fritz was quick to close the garage door and block out any possible eyes.

"I don't know how to repay you, Scott, but I'll figure something out," Fritz insisted. He could only hope that Baby went along with staying on her best behavior.

"You could come take a look at the kittens. You, uh, you were thinking of taking one? They're only a week old, so they're not ready, but you could come see them," Scott encouraged. Only a week old and he was already trying to secure homes for every last kitten; typical.

They wandered out of the garage and left Baby alone in the garage. The clown waited where she was left and looked around at what was effectively her temporary room. It wasn't as bad as could've been expected, but it was certainly a cramped space. There wouldn't be much space to move around. She waited expectantly and eventually the two returned.

"I'm up every three hours anyway to bottle feed the kitten, so I'll be awake to check on Baby," Scott could be heard saying outside the door before Fritz stepped in.

"She shouldn't be a hassle. I doubt you'll need to get her a bottle before morning," Fritz playfully joked. He then looked to Baby and his face fell just a bit. He felt like such a liar and it made him feel extremely uncomfortable. However, it was just better if Scott didn't know, less he be afraid of something that wouldn't happen. "Be good, Baby. I'll be back tomorrow and we'll see if we found another place." Then he left and was gone; she heard the van pull away outside.

Scott wasn't like the others. Instead of curiosity, he drew away immediately to somewhere in the house, leaving Baby alone in the garage. After years inside of Afton's, the garage wasn't unpleasant. In fact, she was easily able to spend most of her time in a sort of 'sleep' mode while waiting for Scott's eventual return.

She could hear him talking in the distance. She could hear him moving around the house. When he got close enough, she called his name. It was easy to call without calling; she could raise her volume without changing her tone at all, and hoped that this would keep it from frightening the human. Considering the fact that he proceeded by dropping something that clattered in the other room. For a few seconds, Baby thought that Scott wasn't going to come in, and that she somehow managed to scare him off.

Yet then he appeared at the door and peered inside. However, he did seem wary of her already, so she decided not to press her luck. "Uh… Yeah… Baby?"

"I heard you talking earlier. Who were you talking to?" Baby asked curiously. "Is there someone else in there?"

"I…No. I was just- my job involves making a lot of phone calls. You must have heard me. Or maybe you heard the TV…" Scott seemed much more uncomfortable than any of the other humans. The animatronic found it peculiar, but interesting. The human looked at the blue eyed animatronic; it started back with lightly flexing plates. "Umm… W-Well, I'm going to make dinner."

"What are you making?" Baby broke in quickly before Scott could leave.

"I… Don't know yet," the man admitted with a cough following. Baby was acting fine. If anything, it should've been comforting that she was acting so non-aggressive.

"Why not pizza?" Baby offered. "And ice cream. Or just ice cream. Pizza ice cream?" She was babbling; she didn't want him to leave. "Or butter. I love the feel of butter. It makes everything feel so smooth."

So now Scott was just blatantly staring. He wasn't even certain if he was really seeing this happen. "Uh… Yeah… Yeah, maybe pizza. I have a pizza in the freezer… I'll just go put that in." He went to shut the garage door.

"Don't shut it all the way," Baby insisted. Then her voice dropped just a touch quieter, "I want to hear your voice."

Needless to say, Scott didn't shut the door all the way, but he also didn't return any time soon.

The beeping of the alarm roused Scott out of a relatively deep sleep. He gave a tired groan and pushed himself to roll over and sit upwards. He slipped on his prosthetic and wandered out into the living room, then into the kitchen. He went through the motions of heating up the formula and prepared the bottle. As he left the kitchen, he sent a glance over at the garage door. He had checked on Baby before he went to bed and the light had been left on. Half-asleep and assuming that Baby was still fine, Scott continued to the master bedroom.

The cat bed was in the corner of the master bedroom and had a towel pinned to the wall and dresser above it, blocking the bed off from direct light. He lifted the smallest kitten into his hand and carried it over to the bed. His Sphynx was already used to it, so she did little more than watch with lidded eyes. Bottle feeding the kitten was normal and it didn't take too long before it had finished the bottle. He then cleaned the kitten and fussed on it a bit more before placing it back with his mother. He had high hopes for the runt; a few more days and it would be in the clear.

Scott then shuffled back into the kitchen to wash out the bottle. Then he started to pass through the living room again, but paused when he noticed something. Suddenly the garage light was off and the cracked door seemed to be closed a little more. Assuming that Baby had done it and not really wanting to confront her, Scott continued to his bedroom and went back to sleep.

The beeping of the alarm roused Scott of a lighter sleep. He felt groggy, but he knew that he needed to feed the kitten again. He pushed himself to roll over, slipped on his prosthetic, and headed back to the kitchen. He warmed another bottle and shoved a few crackers into his mouth, before following them with a swig of bottled orange juice. He hadn't eaten enough at dinner and, while he didn't want to eat a full meal as it would wake him up, this seemed to be enough to help for the moment. Then he took the bottle and stepped out of the kitchen.

The TV was on. It took him a moment to notice it, but it was on and playing some sort of late night soap opera. He sent a glance to the garage door and it seemed mostly unmoved. That aside, he still was suddenly feeling uneasy, and hurried back to the master bedroom. As before, he bottle fed the kitten, but this time he decided not to return to the kitchen. He simply left it on his bedside table and headed back to sleep.

Instead of waking to his alarm, Scott woke abruptly to what sounded like a bumping noise from the bathroom. He stared at the door that connected his room to the bathroom. He could already feel the shaking in his hands growing more intense. Slowly, he put his prosthetic on and crossed to the bathroom door, then pressed his ear to the door. He could hear nothing. Opening the door, he could see that the bathroom light was still off, so it didn't appear that anyone had been in it.

It wasn't too unheard of for him to hear noises that weren't there. Especially when he was half between sleep and wakefulness. He gave a slow exhale and shut the door again, then headed out of his room to get the bottle of orange juice. The TV was still on, though he hadn't turned it off, and everything looked untouched. Scott shuffled into the kitchen, got his drink, and then prepared to head back to his room.

…But he lingered outside of the garage door. "What if the noise was her?" he questioned himself. It was quite possible that she could've either fell or knocked something over. Scott slowly reached out and laid his hand on the doorknob before pushing it open. "Baby?" Dim light fell onto Baby's shiny body and Scott already felt relieved, thinking that Baby was just standing there. He flicked on the garage light.

And stared at Baby's metal husk.

Baby was, for lack of a better term, opened. All her plates were spread enough to reveal what lay under her face and belly, but what lay under these plates was literally nothing. The inside of Baby was completely empty of any sort of material. Even her eyes were missing. She was lacking any sort of endoskeleton at all.

Or, the more likely possibility, the endoskeleton was somewhere else in the house.

Scott's reaction was immediate to this single thought. He started with a few steps back, managing to make his way out of the garage before slamming the door shut behind him. His eyes darted around the living room and what he could see of the kitchen, frantically searching for wherever the endoskeleton crawled off to. It could be anywhere.

His thoughts were stuck between either getting to his phone and calling Fritz or running to his bedroom to barricade himself in, to protect his kittens. Eventually, the phone call started to win out as he took a few bold steps across the living room and towards the office. It was movement by the front door that stopped him in his tracks.

It stood at the front door. The curtained windows let in a slither of morning light, framing the outline of whatever loomed in his home. It was almost as tall as Baby, but it wasn't a normal endoskeleton. Through the darkness and the blurring his eyes, Scott could see twitching, twisted wires around it. The human's vision blurred as it continued to stare back at him.

The next thing Scott knew, he was in his bedroom, barricading the door with one of his nightstands. He was panting and trembling, unable to control the shaking in his hands and trying to fight back the throbbing pain spreading through them. It only took him a moment before he barreled into the bathroom and locked that door as well. For the moment, he was blocked off from whatever it was. He knew it had been too good to be true; he knew that Baby had a catch.

And now he didn't even have either of his phones. There was nothing he could do but wait and hope that it couldn't find a way inside.

He could hear wires scraping over the door.

Mike expected Marionette to be gone like he usually was in the mornings. Instead, he woke up on the floor, his own arm tucked underneath his head like a pillow, and Marionette laying against him. Memories of the night before came back along with a growing exhaustion. It had to have been six in the morning when he had finally fallen asleep and he doubted that it was more than a few hours later. He stretched his sore muscles and partially turned onto his back, only realizing now how much his neck hurt from the position.

He gave a tired groan and looked over, noticing the Puppet slightly moving, meaning that he was obviously awake. "Doll?" Mike tried, deciding not to say the name 'Baby' again, as though risking dropping the name.

"…Yes?" Marionette quietly responded, perhaps confused at the new nickname.

"Are we going to talk about last night?" Mike inquired. He wanted to know whether or not they would be able to evaluate what happened. That crazed state, that booming voice; Mike had a lot of time to think last night and there were some questions that needed answers.

"I don't know what happened," Marionette obviously lied.

"What does 'save them' mean?" Mike asked before really thinking. "I get what it means, but what's the significance?" He shifted around on the less than plush carpet.

He could hear a slow dragging noise, not noticing that it was Marionette's hand sliding down the carpet. He then started to push his upper body off the floor. His head hung down wearily and he quickly raised his other arm to keep himself upright. He looked weakened; either that, or he still half-asleep, but it seemed more like the former. "Did I say that?"

"Someone did." Marionette seemed to suddenly stiffen at the comment. He couldn't tell if Mike was being serious or sarcastic, but he hoped it was the latter. "Come on, Mari. You know what happened. You knew what was happening after you pulled out of it last night." He reached out with his previously folded arm, which was tingling from its previous cut off circulation, and took ahold of the animatronic's shoulder. The Puppet finally pulled himself upwards, kneeling beside his human companion and peering down at him with a mostly unreadable look.

"…You're right. As usual, you see through my mask. What happened last night happened plenty of times at the Pizzeria… Though never like last night. Maybe I'm just so out of practice..." Marionette fell quiet for a moment, but began speaking before Mike could interrupt to coax further. "Back at the Pizzeria, when children would be killed, I would be the one to 'put them back together'. You know this already; I would assist them into animatronic bodies. It saved my friends, it saved my brother, and it saved me as well… When I am told to 'save someone', it has always involved that."

"But Chrissy didn't die. She wasn't even really injured," Mike pointed out.

"I know…" The Puppet shuddered. "But she was the first one. She was the first one who I could save. I was never there when they were taken. I don't remember that well, but I know that I would've never let him hurt them while I was there… I was always just putting them back together afterwards." He let out an off-tune noise accompanied by what sounded like a sigh. "Chrissy was so close." He hunched over a bit more.

Now Mike started to sit upwards, deciding that laying on the floor wasn't helping and moving to sit back against the wall. "I know… But you saved her. I know you can protect any kids at the Pizzeria. You were just held back before," he insisted. Then he gave a small shrug, "Let's be honest, as long as I paint my face, we can somehow cover up anything you do." The joke received a pitiful chime. He moved his hand back to his shoulder and lightly rubbed at the black fabric. Then he let his sincerity return.

"I know you're upset about what happened. Maybe you don't want to talk about it- Hell, I know that feeling- and I won't make you talk… But a lot of things happened yesterday and I know it's bothering you more than you let on." Mike paused, inhaled, and then lowered his voice further. "Just know that none of it was caused by anything you did. You've done nothing wrong. You've just been trying to give others a chance, and Baby took advantage of that." He had to say her name and set his blame. "…We all thought she was going to change."

Slowly, Marionette started to raise himself back upwards and allowed himself to look towards Mike. He looked saddened, almost expectantly, but it was less expected purple tears that caught Mike off guard. He hadn't even made a single noise, he had given no word to signal it, and Mike tightened his grasp out of reflex. The tears weren't unfamiliar to Mike as he had seen them multiple times before, but it always caught him off guard how he reacted to them. Everything in his chest clenched for a split second, and the guilt intensified.

"I should have seen through her," Marionette spoke. "…But I just wanted my sister back."

"Mari…" Mike lowered his hand to take one of Marionette's. "Mari, please don't cry."

The Puppet raised his free hand in confusion. He briefly touched his face before drawing back his hand and looking at the purple. Mike took his hand before he could make any attempt to wipe the tears away. Marionette head dropped again, him again slouching in shame, though now Mike had a grip on his hands so he couldn't cover his face. He wept, and Mike soon pulled him in to hold him, ignoring the warm paint-like substance that was leaking onto him and if it would stain.

Marionette just released all the pent-up frustration and distress. He cried for Chrissy, he cried for Baby, and he cried for their lost chances. However, the tears dried up quicker than he expected. He felt at ease much quicker, though still lamented what happened. For a moment, he had some semblance of peace, and Mike decided to act on his quietness.

"Here, we're moving to the bed," Mike volunteered as he started trying to hook his arms behind Marionette's back and under his bent legs. "If we're going to deal with emotional turmoil, we're not hanging out on the floor."

"We don't have much time. The Pizzeria-."

"Screw the Pizzeria. Foxy can handle it," Mike quickly excused as he stood and crossed to the bed.

"Oh Foxy, I need to be there for him… He's probably just as upset as I am," Marionette remarked mostly to himself, as though absentmindedly remembering that his brother could also be upset.

"Foxy was ready for heads to roll last night. He'll be fine for a while," Mike insisted. "We'll go in late. Nobody will notice if we're a couple of hours late." As he laid Marionette down, he considered how honest he wanted to be. "…And if I don't get at least two more hours of sleep, I'm going to be partially braindead for the rest of the day. So, I'm hoping my sock monkey's willing to indulge me." Even through the tears, Marionette managed to emanate his delightful warble, and no longer made any effort to protest.

Though he did take control and tugged Mike closer to him. He fought back the worries and substituted them by taking in the human's warmth, his scent, and the sort of reassurance that came from just knowing that, for the moment, they were alive and safe. He entangled his fingers into Mike's dark hair and held him close enough that Mike could feel the purple tears on his own cheek. They were slowing down; no doubt, he would soon stop, and then hopefully not cry for some time. At least a few hours without tears.

As for Mike, his questions briefly faded. He could worry about Baby later. Now he had the enticing warmth and the exhaustion weighing on him. Everything felt just heavy enough that he wanted to give into relaxation. Later he would ask more about the past, the unknown years, the other animatronics, those words pounding in his head…

Then Mike's eyes snapped open. He said nothing, not wanting to upset Marionette any further, and simply processed the sharp realization he just had.

Because as if he had recognized the chanting voice himself, Mike suddenly knew that the voice had to belong to Golden Freddy.

Mike held his Puppet tighter.

The kitten would need another bottle eventually. The cats' limited food would have to be replenished eventually. He himself had to eat eventually. He had to leave this room eventually.

Yet even hours later, as sun poured through the blind and bars and into the bedroom, Scott couldn't will himself to leave the room. He heard the footsteps and wires and knew, without a doubt, that it was still out there. It was still waiting for him to eventually slip up. However, he needed to get to one of his phones. His home phone was in the office and the cell was still charging beside his armchair; both involved him leaving his bedroom. Yet there was no choice.

Scott listened at the door for any sigh of movement outside, but there was none. Then, knowing it would be closer to the office, he decided to slip out through the bathroom door. Thankfully, he was paranoid enough to have a weapon already in his room. Unfortunately, he didn't know if a tire iron would do that much against an animatronic endoskeleton. Clutching it tightly, he unlocked the bathroom door with a shaky grasp and cracked it open.

The endoskeleton couldn't be seen and couldn't be heard. Though the garage door was now halfway open, making him wonder if Baby had returned to her body. Hoping for the best and expecting the worst, he shut the door behind him and followed the wall to the open office door. Right when he was about to push open the door, he heard the familiar side of wires and recoiled. It was in the office. For whatever reason, it had moved into the office, and his paranoid thoughts suggested that it was to somehow block the phone.

His cell phone was his only chance. Scott moved back into the living room, keeping his gaze on the office door, and barely managed to work his hands enough to unplug his phone. Almost the same moment that he got his phone free, he heard the office door start to creak open, and he reacted by hurrying into the kitchen. He could only be relieved that he had laid down rugs on the floor of the kitchen as they quieted his footsteps. Though it wasn't good enough as the kitchen was so small that he would be immediately spotted.

He quickly stepped into the tight pantry and closed the door to a crack. If he closed it all the way he knew he would have to deal with the sound of it clicking, so this seemed to suffice. Then he waited with his back pressed against the shelves behind him. It would've been able to easily see him if it opened the door at all, but thankfully it didn't even step into the kitchen. Instead, he could hear the garage door creep open, close again, and then quietness once more. Eventually Scott dared to push the door open.

He stepped back out into the living room and sent a glance towards the garage door. It could've gone inside and, if it did, the heavy lock on the garage door would help keep it in. Slowly, he pushed the door closed and locked it on the click. He expected to feel some sort of relief at getting the thing captured, but he didn't, and he reacted immediately by hustling across the room to stand near the bedroom door. He shakily dialed Fritz's number and listened to the ringing.

"Pick up, come on, pick up," he mentally begged as it run again and again, and again, and went to voicemail. "Fritz, I don't- I don't know what you were thinking- the thing you brought over here- you've got to answer your phone, or come back and get the animatronic." He only barely managed to keep his voice quiet. If it knew he was talking about it, it could become much more aggressive. Then the garage door would probably not hold it at bay. He continued trying to call, but couldn't get any word from the technician.

Even though it was pointless, he proceeded to call and leave two more frantic messages, as though Fritz was hearing them but simply ignoring them. Scott doubted this wasn't the case, but somehow believed that if he kept calling Fritz would eventually respond. With the continued lack of a response, he gave a tired huff and headed to the bathroom. He decided to take the moment to get the kitten's bottle and maybe give an early feeding. All he had to do was kill time until Fritz called back.

Or this was what he thought before he opened the bathroom door. Mid-way through the gesture and he was hit with the familiar sound of coiling wires. He choked out a startled gasp and yanked the door back to shut it. A claw of wires- one that only resembled a hand in theory- grabbed onto the doorframe and started to drag it back open. Its strength was unimaginable and lashed out with the tire iron. The first blow fell on the door and dented the wood. His cell phone fell to the floor ignored and he swung again.

This time the tire iron hit the wire hand. The endoskeleton recoiled its hand with a short shriek and Scott slammed the door closed. There wasn't a lock on this side of the door, so he used the moment to his advantage and turned to run for the bedroom door. He couldn't remember the last time he ran so fast; it had to be before his accident. Something about it waiting for him in the bathroom, silently staking him out, provoked a worsening fear.

Forget the phone, forget Fritz, forget any other plans; this thing was going to catch and kill him. Scott slammed into the wooden door and went for the knob. The door didn't budge. In his rush of delusion, he completely forgot that his bedroom door was locked and moved on reflex.

Yet before he could move or run somewhere else, heavy footsteps echoed out and it was behind him. He could hear the metal grinding and shifting together, and felt his breath quicken to a hyperventilate. It was so close that he could smell it. It smelled like iron and copper, and cake, and it wouldn't stop twitching and moving. He was about to panic.

"Don't run away." It had Baby's soft, feminine voice, and it was jarring to know that it was coming out of such a disjointed body. "Please… It's me… I'm not going to hurt you. I didn't think you were going to see me like this."

"It's okay, it's okay, just go back to the garage," Scott babbled out, hoping that maybe it would leave. "Just go- it's fine- we just won't talk about it and won't tell Fritz, just go- I need- I've got to be working somewhere-." Any excuse he could get out came out. Any desperate hope that it would turn around and leave; maybe she wouldn't kill him. Maybe the lost endo truly would return to its body. "Just go! I'm fine! It's no problem!" His breathing only grew more erratic as the shaking in his hands got worse, spreading up his arms. He needed his medicine. He needed to escape.

"You can't tell anyone I look like this. If you do, they'll take me away."

"Then just stay in your body. Just go back to your body, please," Scott insisted more firmly. "I-I can forget all of this, you know? I- heh- I know how to keep quiet, I promise." He'd sing like a canary to Fritz as soon as he could, but first he needed to get it away from him.

"That body is broken. It's tight and cold… But I'll go back to my body, if you would do something for me."

"Sure! A-Anything," Scott broke out. He hoped it was something like keeping a secret or keeping music on, or agreeing to talk to it, or something basic that would get it away from him so that he could go slip back into his bedroom and lock the door behind him. He needed a wall in between them and the sooner the better.

"I want you to look at me."

What kind of a trick was this? Scott's throat closed and he had to cough to open it. His hands were now going numb as the shaking started to spread to his upper arms. He didn't want to face this thing. "Uh, sure… why?"

"Because I want you to look at me."

This was some sort of test. Yet it hadn't killed him. Unless it was a reverse Foxy scenario, where it needed him to look at it so that it could attack. At this point it was obvious that it wasn't going to leave, and he decided to not risk testing its patience. He slowly started to turn himself around to face it. His vision was already starting to grow foggy; he wasn't getting enough oxygen, but this was the least of his problems.

He had been wrong, this was not a normal endoskeleton; it was something much worse. Splotches of browning stained some of its wires which continues to lightly sway and twitch around what might have been a frame underneath. It was disturbing, yet his eyes were drawn to its pale, masked face.

An unfamiliar face with familiar blue eyes… And then nothing.

Mable: It's once you start listening to Baby that you realize how truthful she is. Ask Max the Magician, he knows.
The next chapter will be soon. I hope you enjoyed!