Mable: So, I know that I said this chapter was going to come out the day or so after the last one, but it was in such rough draft that I really needed to sink the extra work in it. Hopefully, this is a better draft, because I need to get into the Christmas chapter sooner than later. ^-^ Anyway, I hope you Enjoy!

Can't Go Home Again

Chapter Eighty

Scott only partially recognized himself stepping out of the elevator and into the parking lot. The only thing that really affirmed that he was outside and not just mentally drifting was the smell of asphalt and the distant sound of wind. He was shaken, cold, and clutching the hatchet to his chest like- for lack of a better example- Mike was currently clutching the Puppet. Mike fumbled to open the back door of his car before leaning in and gently laying Marionette across the back seats. He then paused to look over him.

Marionette was surprisingly limp considering that he was not cracked, which made Mike only more concerned. He exhaled in concern and shirked off his jacket before laying it over the Puppet. He noticed one of Marionette's hands tighten on the edge of the jacket, drawing it closer, and took this as a sign that he would be alright for the moment. He wasn't full unconscious, thankfully, so Mike drew back.

It was now that Mike got a look at the 'Phone Guy'. He stood there with a vacant look that Mike could've sworn he had once seen on Fritz's face. Or probably would see whenever he explained what happened.

"Are you okay?" Mike asked as he walked over to him. He looked between the older man and his untouched car. "Can you drive?"

"…No." As though suddenly remembering it, Scott patted around where his jacket pockets would've been and realized it was gone. "I, uh… I lost my keys inside… And my jacket."

"Please tell me you have a spare somewhere, because I'm going to fight you tooth and nail before I let you go down there," Mike offered. Scott didn't answer and still looked to be somewhat in shock. Either that or he really wasn't sure about what he was going to do. Mike made the choice for him, and reached out for him. He then led the older man to his own car and steered him to the passenger's seat. "I'll drive."

It was a relief to be coming out of such an event able to drive anyway, so Mike wasn't upset about giving Scott a ride. In fact, while he expected to feel something after all of this, Mike found his own feelings towards this all rather dulled. He was too concerned about Marionette and the Phone Guy to feel the soreness in his body or to ask the budding questions. That and his adrenaline still might have been high.

Scott dropped the hatchet into the floorboards and leaned back in the seat. His fingers dug into the seat as Mike drove out of the parking lot. The beginning of the ride was largely silent, with Scott staring out the window at the semi-desert lining the road. Mike looked over at him and then looked back to the road, and only then struck up some form of a conversation.

"Fritz is going to kill me for losing that taser," he remarked. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. "But after feeling that firsthand, maybe it's for the best?"

"Y-Yeah, could be." Scott cleared his throat and rubbed his hand on his pants leg. "Anything after a couple of shocks can start causing hardware damage."

As soon as this comment settled, Mike looked at the backseat through the rearview mirror to check in on the slender figure laying there. Apparently, Marionette had pulled the jacket over his mask. Probably to cover his face so that he wouldn't have to dwell on his expression changing, even though Scott saw him do so in the building. Again, Mike chose to take it as a good sign, and his eyes returned to the road.

"Mind if I ask what exactly happened to get us down there?" If there was any time to be blunt, it was probably not now, but he couldn't help but spring for it. "I'm going to just assume that our suspicions at the intervention were spot on." That was a nice way of saying that he knew that they were right, and this only proved it. What it didn't prove was if Scott knew what was happening. Though Scott's immediately guilty look suggested the worst, which Mike noticed out of the edge of his vision.

"Baby was Ennard," Scott agreed. For a moment he kept that statement lingering there, then dared to look back over at Mike. He stared at the younger man and hesitated. Then, as though without a choice, he blurted out a confession. "But I knew Baby was Ennard… I found out a while ago." Before Mike could even feign surprise, Scott continued to let it flow out. "He's been living with me, he's been eating my butter, he's been acting like my… My friend. I actually- hah- I actually thought he was my friend!"

Scott's breathing quickened and he spoke with a more panicked tone. "I really thought that he wanted to learn and to live in a place that wasn't like William's… But it was all a lie. You were right. He just wanted to lead me here to get me into that room." He leaned his head against the cold of the window. "And I still thought I could talk him out of it."

"Hey, don't go blaming yourself," Mike protested. "Sure, following Ennard down here after I warned you wasn't the smartest move, but you did talk Ennard into letting us go when he really had the advantage. I don't even want to consider the fight we would've had with me having zero weapons, Mari being half past passing out, and Ennard doing his damnedest to light us all up like a couple of lightbulbs." In any other situation with anyone else, Mike would've scolded a little harder on his warning being ignored, but in this case, he knew that Scott already regretted it.

And if the steadily growing hyperventilating was any sign, that shock was wearing off right on cue.

"Breathe. We're outside and we're home free. Deep breaths. We're safe," Mike instructed, briefly looking away from the road again. "…You're not nursing anything broken right? You might not feel it, but I can swing by the hospital if you're bleeding or anything."

"No, I'm fine…" Scott coughed again. It felt like there was a mass forming in his throat, one that he could barely breathe around. It was tightening in his throat, like the sensation of metal closing in around his windpipe. Like the feeling of being closed tightly in the grasp of animatronics who want nothing more than to shove him into an empty suit. Or animatronics who wanted to make him into an empty suit. He couldn't remember how long he was inside that tight, empty shell and likewise, he wasn't sure how long they had been in Afton's.

Yet unlike at Freddy's, he was conscious and wasn't planning on randomly waking in the hospital. Especially not with Fredrick staring down at him, watching him, as though he had been an innocent in what happened. A silent, deadly warning that Scott needed to disappear out of the picture and take his secrets with him, and he had. Scott had to force himself to return to the present; he was in a car with Mike and the Puppet, driving home, with Ennard far behind him. Yet even with that, he found his mind dragging him back to unpleasant memories.

William had driven him home after Henry's sudden death. Scott had been so shaken, so unhinged by the sight of blood and talking with the cops that he could barely form a cohesive sentence, let alone drive. He had fumbled into the car and let the older man drive him back to his house, all while his children were in the back seat. The youngest one, the child who always cried, was crying again. Maybe he had seen something or maybe he just knew something awful happened. He always cried like he knew something was terribly wrong.

There were red flags all over Freddy's, all over William, all over Ennard, and yet it was a child who noticed them. Everyone else saw them first.

And suddenly he was choking.

"Pull over, pull over!" Scott blurted out as he grabbed at the handle on the door. The urge to escape the tight confines was so overwhelming that he couldn't control himself. He needed out of the car and the memories before they overwhelmed him. He swung open the car door before it even came to a stop and once it did stop, stepped out onto the side of the road and began to feverishly pace. He was dizzy, barely able to stand up straight, gulping in mouthfuls of air to quell a sour clenching in his stomach.

Then, once he managed to trick his body into believing that he was safe, he leaned on the car. He tried to block it out, wrapping his arms around his head and resting on the roof of the car. For a moment, the memories did disintegrate, and the softer assurance that he was okay settled in. Ennard was the current worry, and Ennard was the lesser horror of the things he lived with daily.

Somehow, Mike got out of the car and beside him before he could even realize it. It was so sudden that when his hand rested on his back, Scott shuddered in response, even when he knew that it had to be Mike.

"I'm sorry," Scott broke out. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." There was so many things he could've apologized for: not listening to Mike, lying to the others, willingly going against all warnings and heading into Afton's, leaving Ennard down there, and just making a mess of something so cut and dry. Really, he was apologizing for all of it, or babbling out the apologies to quell his emotional overload.

"It's okay," Mike comforted. "If you wouldn't have stepped in, we'd all still be stuck down there. You saved my skin twice tonight… Literally, but I swear that wasn't intentional." He coughed and tugged at the man, trying to lead him back into the passenger's seat. "Let's get you home. We're almost there."

While Scott didn't want to, he willingly climbed back into the passenger's seat and stiffly leaned back on the fabric. He stared forward at the dark road, so he didn't notice the gaze from the back seat. It felt like an eternity before Mike pulled into his driveway. He shut off the car and looked to the older man.

"Do you need us to stick around until daylight? I think we can stand…" Mike looked at his watch. "… Thirty minutes, give or take." He tried to hide the concern on his face with a more vacant look, to seem casual in his asking, but Scott could see through it. Though even if he couldn't, he wasn't planning on making Mike camp out when he obviously was tired, and obviously had his hands full already.

"No, I'll… I'll be okay," Scott choked out as he opened his door. "I need the quiet, to figure all this out… I'll… I'll call Fritz in the morning…" He briefly looked towards the backseat. "If he's not, you know- call Fritz sooner than morning. He does know how to work with animatronic hardware, but that's only if something's off. Hopefully the shocks will wear off on their own." Anything not to talk about Ennard. Anything to not have to think about the empty house. "So, uh… Good night."

"Night." As Scott stepped out, Mike rolled down his window and called after him, "I'll call you tomorrow to check in. If you need a ride to a locksmith, I'll be free, just make sure to lock your door." Almost immediately, Scott froze in front of the car as he realized that he had affectively lost his house keys too. He paused there, contemplating his options, and then limped to the door to check and make sure it was locked. He couldn't remember if he had or not and the difference would save him climbing through the kitchen window, which was the only window with a broken lock.

Mike was about to call out again, figuring out why the older man had slowed down and prepared to offer him a place to sleep, but was cut off by the briefest touch to his shoulder. He looked in the backseat and found Marionette now missing, with his jacket simply left behind. He looked back in time to see Scott stepping inside his house and knew that it hadn't been left unlocked.

The house felt strange compared to earlier. The entire mood had shifted and instead of feeling warm, like he was being expected and waited for, it felt empty. Even with a litter of kittens in the other room, Scott felt like he was entirely alone. He looked over the living room with a slow exhaled. "I'll just- I'll figure out what to do tomorrow…" He then started moving towards the kitchen to get something to drink.

"Scott."

The unfamiliar voice stopped him in place. Scott hesitated for a moment before looking back towards the front door. There, waiting right where he just stood, was the Puppet.

The Puppet was partially hunched over and seemed to be having trouble keeping himself fully outright. Either that, or he was just having troubling keeping off the ground, as his legs rested on the carpet without looking capable of supporting him. Compared to earlier, he looked much less threatening, but it was understandable considering everything. It was still an improvement compared to the elevator and the car.

Scott was surprised, but not afraid. Not after the night he had dealt with and certainly not after the other had saved him. Though he couldn't concoct an adequate response, especially when considering that the animatronic had just spoken to him. The Puppet stared at him with an almost empty smile. It was obviously a cover, but Scott wasn't familiar enough with him to make that distinction.

"I should apologize," the Puppet continued. He did sound genuinely regretful. "For years I have held things against you unfairly. Assumptions and guilt that I didn't want to hold myself accountable, but that was wrong of me." He raised one of his arms to rub the other, almost in a nervous way. "…The truth is, I don't know who you are, but I know you are not like the others. I know you meant well. I know you were innocent of the atrocities committed in Freddy's..." His head turned downwards, "And though I did stop hunting you once I recognized this, I should've done more to spare you from the others."

Marionette turned his head to look partially away. Instead, his gaze fell on the Sphynx cat currently curled up on the couch watching him. Her golden eyes seemed transfixed on him. Anything was easier to look at than the man in front of him. "…And I can't understand why you did what you did, considering how unjustified my behavior towards you has been, but I thank you…" Now Marionette raised to look at Scott again, and allowed himself to visibly express his guilt. "And I am sorry for everything that we have put you through."

'We' clearly meant the animatronics and while it seemed so strange, it did sound sincere. Marionette started to move in closer and the urge to draw away was overwhelming. Yet Scott didn't move. Scott allowed the Puppet to get within arm's length and didn't draw back as he reached out for him. Almost timidly, the Puppet lay his hand on Scott's shoulder. Though with a sudden pang of exhaustion, Marionette followed by collapsing onto Scott, pulling him into a tired embrace. Scott didn't draw back and the Puppet allowed himself to nearly go limp.

In this unexpected moment where an animatronic was hugging him, Scott found himself fully torn. Part of him wanted to run, especially after Ennard, but the other piece reminded him that this wasn't just a raging animatronic. Things had changed.

"Call 911!" He already had the phone in his hand, manning the booking of parties, so he quickly ended the call and dialed the emergency number. On the line, he was asked what had happened, inquiring for details. So, while they sent the ambulance, he had set the phone aside briefly so that he could go look. So that he could have a grasp of the situation and then vocally explain it to the 911 operator. He raised from his desk and entered the dining room. His eyes were immediately awash with the red horror of blood; on the floor, down Fredbear, and on the boy.

He recognized the child immediately. It was the birthday boy, the sobbing child in the striped shirt, and the boy who Scott himself had seen many times, as it was William's youngest son. Now here he was twitching, bleeding, broken on the floor. He couldn't remember his immediate reaction, but he remembered the deafening screaming around him, and he remembered the horrible thought that the child wouldn't make it.

The child wouldn't make it.

It had been years since Scott really thought of that memory. After all, he had never seen the child again… Or, at least, he assumed he hadn't. It was easy to suspect that the suits were haunted, but he hadn't thought that any of them were haunted by the boy who had died in a hospital on life support, not shoved in a suit in the back. Yet here they were.

Only now did Scott realize that he was hugging Marionette back. It was different than with Ennard, and it felt like there was a weight lifted off his shoulders from it. That memory still lingered, but something felt different about it. It was as though only now did he realize that Marionette was really whom Mike said he was. Suddenly, these animatronics were all very human, even someone like Ennard, and even someone like the Puppet. After years of fearing the Puppet, of dreading it watching him, he was suddenly seeing what was really there.

It was obvious that Marionette was starting to slip. Scott held him upwards, but he knew the animatronic was weary. "Thank you," Scott cracked out. He wasn't sure whether he was thanking the animatronic for what he said or for what he did earlier. "I'm glad you're alright. That was- that had to be as strong as the tasers Freddy's used." Maybe it was out of weariness, but Marionette merely responded with a soft chime. "You need to rest. I don't… I don't want you straining yourself for me any longer. We'll be okay."

Then, with a tired sounding exhale, the Puppet suddenly vanished without another word. Scott's arms bumped his own chest and his blinked in surprise, but then decided to just assume that he was too tired to stay. If anything, it was just a relief in seeing that he wasn't half-broken. Now alone, Scott ignored the kitchen and instead sat down on the couch, reaching out to pet his mother cat. She immediately pressed into him, nuzzling her face into his hand, giving back the affection that he gave her.

This entire night had been so odd, yet he knew he had made the correct choice earlier, in protecting the others at the risk of himself. He couldn't help but be shaken and upset, but Scott could live with himself tonight, and that was better than some nights.

Mike just assumed that Scott and Marionette would be fine in the house. He wasn't sure what the Puppet wanted to say or gesture to the man, but gave then whatever time they needed. After a night like this, they probably needed a few minutes to get their bearings anyway. That wasn't to say that Mike wasn't concerned about Marionette's health; Mike certainly was, but didn't expect him to push himself too hard now that they were safe. Not like when he had taken repeated shocks.

That had been intense. Honestly a little too intense for even Mike, and if it hadn't been a life or death situation he would've been much more adamant on getting a few more strikes in on Ennard. But that would've only made the situation worse; they had to escape as soon as they had the opportunity. It had perhaps spared them from a worse fate.

With a sigh, Mike pulled out his cellphone and quickly dialed Fritz's number. As expected, there wasn't a response and Mike left a message instead. "Morning, Fritz. Just want to forewarn you now that we had an issue tonight, so I just wanted to warn-." Mike's eyes briefly glanced upwards into the rearview mirror. His voice was immediately cut off as he stared at what was standing in the street behind his car.

He recognized the bear form from Afton's. It was concocted with the same wires, it stared with similar dead eyes, and it was now standing behind his car.

"There's a bear behind my car," Mike stated as he stared at the form. The unnerved human turned to look over his shoulder and in that instance the bear vanished, as though just a figment of his imagination. His eyes scanned the road and then looked back into the rearview mirror. Any trace of the bear was gone, just like in Afton's. It only left behind the unsettling chill that came with being stalked. "It's gone, but it was there. I swear there was this giant- I'll call you back tomorrow. I'll be in at the regular time, but I have to keep an eye out for the bear." With that, he closed his cellphone and returned to bear spotting.

It didn't take too long before Marionette appeared in the backseat again. He tiredly fell over onto his side, drawing his legs closer on the seat, and looked to Mike. "Let's go home." When Mike said nothing, Marionette paid closer attention. It didn't take him more than a second to notice Mike's hesitant scanning of the neighborhood. "…Mike?"

"…It's nothing," Mike excused. Marionette was too at risk as it was and whatever the bear was, it had still yet to present itself as aggressive. This was the second time it had just appeared, stared, and vanished. Though the fact that it was now out of Afton's made him a little more unnerved. "Let's get you home." A locked door felt like a good idea.

The drive back to the house was completely bear-less, which Mike decided to take as a good sign. He turned off the car and stopped Marionette before he could teleport inside. "Let me carry you in. I don't want you pushing yourself." While Marionette would've normally shrugged it off, he decided to go along with it and welcomed the grasp. The door was unlocked and kicked shut behind them, though Mike went through the effort to lock it right afterwards.

Mike carried the Puppet to the couch and gently set him down. Marionette moved to sit upwards and settled into propping himself against the back, unwilling to keep his head upright for much longer. Mike whistled as he looked down at him. "Well, that was something…" He knelt down, looking over the animatronic carefully for anything that would point to other damage. "How are you holding up?"

"I've handled worse," Marionette assured with a slow wave. His voice with filled with light crackles, showing the strain. "Though I… I must be honest. I wasn't expecting to be electrocuted tonight." He rubbed over his once cracked cheek and Mike suddenly stood. He headed off to the closet to retrieve the paint and brush, returning to sit beside him on the couch. Marionette tried to deny him once seeing what he was doing. "Mike, no. You're tired. We can do it in the morning."

"I'm way too wired to sleep anyway. It'll help us both relax," Mike encouraged. He reached forward to cup his mask, gently rubbing his thumb underneath where he was about to paint. "Besides, we're celebrating that I didn't come home in a cast. That's got to mean something." The Puppet gave a weak chime, more so at the touch than the comment, and pressed further into the welcomed touch. "When'd he crack you?"

"Before you came down. It wasn't very much," Marionette answered. Mike guided tilted his face upwards as he prepared the paint with his other hand. He then got to work, gliding the brush over his cheek, and listened to every gentle trill. Marionette reached up to caress along his wrist, trailing his slender, black fingers down his arm. "…And you? Nothing may be broken, but you were hurt."

"It was brief, but it comes with the line of work. I was going to shock myself eventually." Again, Mike couldn't help but kick himself for losing the taser. He would've been worried that Ennard could use it, but doubted it considering how much voltage the amalgam was already working with. He shook off thoughts of Ennard and continued to fill in his cheek. "Anything else you want me to touch up?"

"Maybe tomorrow." Marionette's body felt heavy and his mind grew clouded. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the tingling from the brush painting him. "Tomorrow is another day…"

So much so that he didn't even want to think about Ennard or Baby. Or maybe because, deep down, seeing Ennard in Baby's body was a relief. Either Baby had moved on, free from her strife, or she was out there somewhere, but it still gave him a sense of hope. Even if it had to struggle past his dulled senses.

Marionette wasn't sure if he drifted off or if Mike was quick, but the brush drew back almost too soon. "Perfect," Mike complemented, though it was unclear if he was complimenting the puppet or himself on his work. Though either way he did add, "You look great." He left off the 'considering everything tonight'. He then leaned in to briefly press their lips together in what would've been a chaste kiss, if not for Marionette suddenly slipping his free hand up to the back of the human's neck, holding them in place.

There was a spark, a tingle like electricity, but without the pain. Already, Mike could feel a different sort of rush, one more satisfying than the up and down adrenaline spikes that had run rampant earlier in the evening. This was becoming the preferred thrill to the brushes with death. Perhaps the near-death experiences had just lost their charm. Though Mike wouldn't argue with the fact that these close calls gave him an opportunity to see Marionette at his peak, and those alone carried their own excitement. All that power hidden inside a porcelain mask.

Mike started to lose himself into the lightheadedness and was almost prepared to ignore his need to breathe. Along with the loud reminder from the grandfather clock that it was clearly morning and not evening. He finally gained enough willpower to separate them and Marionette followed by dropping his head onto his chest, only barely turning enough to not smudge his freshly painted cheek. This got a slight chuckle out of Mike and he held him with one arm while using the other to put the paints back into their box.

While Mike was more than willing head back to bed with his 'plaything'- only now did he question whether or not Ennard knew what he was saying- his mind suddenly started to drift back to the odd event outside of Scott's home. They needed the rest, especially Marionette, but he wasn't sure if he could sleep without the briefest of inquiries.

"Hey… Can I ask you something? I know you're tired, so I'll keep it short," Mike asked hesitantly. Marionette nodded against him and hugged him tighter, with only his one arm still looped around him. "You've seen more animatronics than I have. I'm not even going to pretend that I've seen the worst of what's circling around out there." Then again, he had seen those blueprints, and he doubted that they were the only ones. "Are you the only one that can teleport around?"

The Puppet gave a small hum before answering. "No, Goldie could too." But Goldie didn't look like Ennard. He wasn't even the same type of animatronic, as Mike had seen himself, so he questioned if there was a connection or not. Sure, they were both bears, but there were plenty of bear animatronics at Freddy's. Between the recolors, the rereleases, and the retro fitting, there had to be at least a dozen different versions of a 'Fred' bear. "...Ennard can't, if you're wondering. Some can, but he's can't. Something about the body…" He started to trail off and Mike almost got it.

"Goldie was more like a ghost than a full animatronic. At least, when I saw him. So, that fits…" Mike furrowed his brows in thought. "Nobody else?" At first, Marionette shook his head. Then he paused and instead shrugged. "Is that something that one of them could pick up? Like, let's say Freddy hung out in a basement somewhere for five or six years, not doing much of anything. Could he start doing this?"

"It's always possible… When I first awoke, I couldn't do much of anything. I was stuck to my box, to my strings…" He pressed in tighter to his chest, craving the warmth. "Couldn't get far even after I started moving on my own… Most of the others were after me, so maybe with time- but Foxy never… Hmm." It was obvious that Marionette was starting to lose focus and at this rate the questions would have to wait.

"Alright, I think that basically wraps up our night," Mike quipped as he carefully moved to lift Marionette once more. "You heard Phone Guy; you could have hardware damage." Though this was more of a joke. Considering how normal the puppet was acting, he just assumed that these damage concerns were over nothing. As he carried the animatronic back towards the hallway, he was met with tired chimes.

"Oh yes, 'the Phone' certainly did seem worried," Marionette remarked. "One of these days, you'll have to ask him his name. He knows that you don't know."

"Eventually," Mike conceded. He then took a joking tone, "Maybe whenever we get stuck going back to find his keys. At least it'll give us something to talk about while Ennard is scooping out our insides."

Mike glanced down at Marionette in his grasp as his thoughts went back to Phone Guy. They weren't in too different of a situation, really. They had both shared a home with an animatronic and it turned into something completely unexpected, even if the results came out differently. He subconsciously held the striped one closer; for once, he was the one that came out as the lucky one. He didn't get many breaks in life.

This was more than enough to make up for it.

Scott had fallen asleep sometime around sunrise and awoke sometime around Noon, sore and stiff, and almost entirely unmotivated to get out of bed. However, a mix of hunger and boredom clawed at his skin until he climbed out of bed. It was going to be a long day, replacing keys and trying to get used to being alone in the house. Maybe he would make some popcorn and watch a movie after he got some work done, since Mike and the others would be at work until later. Maybe he would work that programming project he had set aside. Maybe anything to distract himself.

He still mentally scolded himself as he stepped into the living room. If he had just grabbed his jacket on the way out- No, wait, he did grab it, as it was laying on the back of his chair. If he wouldn't have dropped his keys, then he wouldn't have this looming over him. Now his entire day was framed around picking up another set of keys. If only he wouldn't have used them to open the vent, then they- Wait a minute.

His jacket was on the back of his chair and not in the Scooping Room.

Scott stopped short and stared down at his jacket. "…I… I thought I left my jacket?" He paused and then reached down to feel through the pockets. Sure enough, the keys were still inside where he had left them, but he had not had the keys last night. After all, he wouldn't have willingly left his car. Or, he wouldn't have left his car as willingly as he did. For a moment he wondered if Mike had spontaneously gone back to ARI, got his keys, returned, and let himself inside.

Looking outside revealed that his car was still gone and checking the door showed that it was still locked tightly. Everything seemed in its proper place.

"But I didn't bring the jacket with me. I… Maybe the Puppet? Maybe he brought it?" Yet he had seemed so weak as it was. Unless Marionette suddenly became re-energized in only a few hours, it shouldn't have been him. There was a spontaneous jacket appearance and nothing to explain it.

Unless… "No. It couldn't be."

Scott's gaze slowly moved across the room, past the kitchen- which was too alit, meaning that the blinds had been bothered- and looked to the garage door. It was shut tightly, and he wandered closer.

"It can't be." Scott hesitated on trying the knob and instead leaned in, pressing his ear against the wood of the door. He heard nothing, and his suspicion started to waver. "What am I even thinking? I'm just… It's just weird being alone again." His hands slipped down the wood as he tried to ignore the paranoia. "Alone again, naturally." Just the same paranoia that kept him homebound for so many years.

There was a low squeak from the other side of the door.

Scott's eyes shot open and jolted his body back like the door burned him. His heart began to pound as he recognized the noise. It was the sound of the plates being moved on the Baby exterior, which he usually heard whenever Ennard was climbing in or out of the suit. When nothing burst out of the door, he pressed his ear against it again and listened, wondering if he had just imagined it.

Then there was a light click of the plate snapping back into place. There was no doubt about it; that was Ennard in the garage, moving around in Baby's exterior, just like nothing ever happened. Or, more than likely, Ennard had been forced to come back because he had nowhere else to go.

With a sudden surge of boldness that he didn't know he had, along with the desperation to see if Ennard was there or not, Scott turned the doorknob and opened the garage door. It opened about an inch and then slammed into a hulking metal form. Scott went pale and his pulse quickened, dreading the possibility that he had just struck Ennard himself and expecting the door to fly open. However, there was no response, and so he timidly slipped his fingers through the crack in the doorway.

"Please don't shut this on my hand…" Scott inwardly begged as his fingers touched cool metal. It was obviously the Baby shell, seeing as the fact that it felt like plate. He drew back his hand and gave a slight shove. When the shell didn't even budge an inch, it became obvious that this was because it was filled. Ennard was in the shell, in his garage, jammed up against the door. As though Ennard was hiding from him. Or simply being defiant, but this didn't make sense with Ennard's obvious clinginess. Pretending or not, he couldn't hide that sort of behavior.

This confirmed without a doubt that Ennard was here though. While Scott should've been overwhelmed with horror, he wasn't. Instead he felt rather numb and contemplated what he was going to do next. There was something gratifying that eventually decided to show itself and spread through Scott's body faster than he could believe. It was against all logic too. He hadn't forgot the night before. Even if Ennard eventually let him leave, he still was the reason he was down there. He had been lied to, dragged around, and forced to endure the other's tantrums.

To be entirely honest, Scott didn't know what to feel. There was a part of him that was frightened at the possibility, but there was that other part that had wanted him to come back. He couldn't drive him out, he didn't want to drive him out, but he also needed some form of distance. This was why he decided not to confront the animatronic and instead moved away from the door, as though he hadn't noticed anything.

Scott had no idea what he was supposed to do, so he did the only thing he could do; he played pretend and hid himself away. Apparently Ennard had rubbed off on him more than he thought.

Mable: Even when Scott dumps Ennard in the bottom of Afton's, he can't get away from him. Then again, it isn't as though Ennard can go anywhere else, unless he wants to wander the sewers like some metal version of Pennywise. Merry Christmas, Scott; you're kind of stuck.
We're down to twenty chapters. Goodness, if you only knew what I knew… Anyway, anyway, I need to stop here. I hope you enjoyed!