Mable: Took a short break to enjoy the holidays, but am now back to… Enjoy the holidays again. XD Apparently. The holiday gets to continue a little longer, and I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Either way, I hope you Enjoy!
Can't Go Home Again
Chapter Eighty-Two
Isabelle settled into the armchair as Mike headed into the kitchen to get some of the Christmas cookies. He had finally gotten her back to the house, got everything seemingly under control, and was semi-confident that he could handle the rest of the evening. That is, if his mother wasn't intending on waiting until Marionette truly got back. As it was, Mike didn't even know if the Puppet had decided to stay at the pizzeria or if he was folded up in his box. He hoped the former, because he didn't like the thought of him just stuck all night.
That, or the fact that the closer Marionette was, the more likely it would be that he would cave and try to show himself to his mother. Isabelle wouldn't understand. It took Mike himself a few days to really understand the full complexities of what the striped animatronic was, and over a year later he was still learning every trick. He was proud of Marionette and he wanted to show him off, but the risk was too great.
"Maybe you could call Mari at his brother's and tell him we're here?" Isabelle asked. "I don't want to leave too late for a drive this long. I would've just planned to stay the night, but I didn't bring any of my things." Mike felt some of a weight lift off his shoulders. After all, he had no idea how he would make a bed for his mother when the bedrooms in the house all had odd stories. It would've been a hard story to tell, explaining why three of the bedrooms were still styled like his former boss had left them.
"If he doesn't pop in by eight-thirty," -he wouldn't- "then I'll call. Still holding out that he'll come back willingly," Mike pointed out. "Want milk?"
"No thank you… Oh!" Isabelle suddenly gave a shudder as Mike shut the fridge door. "Feels like someone just walked over my grave." Mike thought nothing of the comment until he turned around to face her and realized what had happened. What she thought was just a chill down her back was, in reality, the sensation that Mike himself felt when Marionette teleported close to him.
Naturally, Mike knew this because Marionette was currently looming over the back of her chair.
The Puppet couldn't have even been more than a few inches behind his mother, looking down at her curiously. If Isabelle looked back quick enough she could've seen him, but she couldn't sense that he was there. She could only feel the moment that he popped in, and it wasn't enough to warn her that something was amiss. Only someone truly acquainted with Freddy's would react with suspicion. That being said, Mike felt a spike of growing concern at his mother noticing the third being in the room. He was unable to directly do anything, so he would have to improvise through distraction.
"So, Mom, how's Uncle Patrick doing?" It was time to put the shoe on the other foot. Instead of the questioning of his relationship, he would question about hers. Unfortunately, Isabelle had much less to hide, so she was willing to give out details. She spoke of them spending Thanksgiving together, of how his uncle wanted to see them, or how proud she was that Mike was so accepting of everything, all while Marionette continued to stand directly behind her. "He has to go to California this spring and I was considering going if I could get some time off. You could come if you'd like."
Finally, Marionette started to disappear further up the hallway, far enough to keep from being seen. Mike felt the tense muscles in his back start to relax at the comfortable distance. "Sound's nice, but I've already missed too much time from the business. We're trying to get around to upgrading some of the equipment and bringing in a few more arcade machines."
"That's a wonderful idea, though your business, I must say, is already amazing," Isabelle praised. Mike had a feeling that she was biased, but he accepted happily, feeling a satisfied warmth in his chest. "I can't believe how quickly you've gotten the business off the ground. Especially with Freddy's history. Small towns don't usually forget."
The warmth fizzled out and Marionette came right back down the hallway.
"She knows about Freddy's. She did her research and she knows about Freddy's. Patrick told her, he knows, they both know, for the love of-," Mike thoughts raced in a matted blur of horror. However, his face stayed calculatedly cool, and he decided to feign ignorance. "What are you talking about, the money issues? Yeah, we were worried about that too, but we're managing the money well enough."
"Money would be one thing. Did you hear- Who am I talking to? Of course, you probably already know the whole thing. You've always been so observant," Isabelle remarked as she leaned over the edge of the armchair and went into the paper bag she had brought. Marionette followed behind her back so that he wouldn't be in her range sight. "Apparently there were a few instances of missing children. I hope they found them eventually. Goodness, I can't imagine what it would be like to have a child go missing…"
Isabelle cut off with a strange sort of silence. Before the silence could sink in long, she turned to Mike and handed him a wrapped box. "But I'm sure they found them! The news doesn't care too much to inform us of the mundane. They'd rather get us riled to sell newspapers and then not offer the rest of the story." While Mike somewhat admired her optimism- if it was anyone else, he would've considered this optimism ignorance- he was still rather disturbed that she now knew about the public escapades of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria.
"What's this?" Mike asked, trying to ignore their conversation. Especially since he only now realized that her final comment about missing children hit a little too close to their own situation. He started to pull off the wrapping paper as Isabelle got a growing smile, lightly coaxing him to open it without answering. "Mom, you didn't have to…" It was a sweater. It wasn't Christmas themed, it wasn't tacky, it was just boldly colorful and much too bright. He didn't even know how to react to this.
"Mari said you liked purple," Isabelle quipped as she dove into her purse.
"I can see that," Mike remarked as he lifted the sweater out. It wasn't even a dark purple, but a bright lilac. It was a gaudy sort of thing, something that he would stand out in like a sore, purple thumb.
"I thought we could take some pictures in front of the tree," Isabelle suggested as she pulled a camera out of her purse. "It's a shame that Mari isn't here. I got him one that would've looked precious with yours. Come on, put it on and get in front of the tree." He had a bad feeling that this picture would somehow end up on a card of some kind or mounted on his mother's wall in plain sight. Regardless, he slipped the sweater over his shirt, watching out the corner of his eye as Marionette lingered by the clock with his hand lightly resting on his mouth, as though to keep from laughing.
With the overly bright sweater on, Mike slowly approached the tree as Isabelle moved to take a picture. He couldn't help but smile a slight bit, but it was largely out of amusement from the situation than actual willingness. Isabelle snapped a couple of pictures before giving her son a thumbs-up.
"This is going to come out adorable; you look just like a sugarplum!" She had to be doing this on purpose, he deduced. "But what a shame that Mari can't see it. You'll probably throw the poor thing into the back of your closet the second I leave," his mother added in with a knowing sort of smugness. Indeed, she had to be aware of what she was doing. "But maybe you could show him when you get the photos developed?" she asked as she came over to him. Mike furrowed his brows, not sure what she was letting onto until the camera was suddenly placed in his hand.
"Merry Christmas, Mikey," Isabelle chirped as she pulled him down to kiss his cheek again. "Now, I want you to use this! If I can't get you and Mari together, then I want plenty of pictures." Mike only took a moment to study his real Christmas gift, the camera, before pulling his mother into a hug. It felt so strange to be so open, even with them now on good terms, but he eagerly held her close and pretended that the past didn't exist. It truly felt like his mother and he picked up where they had left off.
When they pulled away, Isabelle gave almost a reluctant smile, obviously not wanting to say what she was about to. "Well… I suppose I should get going. It's already dark and I've got a long drive." This should've been the ultimate relief, so it confused Mike to no end when he suddenly felt equally reluctant to let her go.
"Are you sure? There's plenty of spare bedrooms with made beds," Mike pointed out, ignoring that the blankets and sheets for said beds probably hadn't been washed in a decade. "You could leave in the morning."
"No, no, it's fine. I don't even have any of my overnight things," Isabelle answered. She squeezed Mike's hand, as though to comfort him and reassure him that all was well. "But maybe I could reschedule the party and come back for Christmas? I know it's sudden. You didn't even tell me what you got Mari!"
"It's, uh… It's sort of up in the air, depending on whether or not I can find a box big enough for it," Mike dodged as he briefly looked past towards Marionette. There was no way that he had gotten this far to ruin the big surprise, especially considering Christmas' closeness. "But yeah, I'd love to have you back."
"And I'd love to meet Mari…" She trailed off for a moment, looking away, and didn't continue until she looked back. "Mike, I'm not naïve. I know Mari's avoiding me because he's afraid of how I'll react, but I want you to know that no matter what you do with your life and no matter what decision you make, I'll always be supportive of you," Isabelle tried to encourage. "I love you more than anything, and I'm proud of what you accomplished." She gave him one tighter hug. "I don't want to lose you again.
Part of Mike immediately questioned if she meant all of it. It was the same part that caused his stomach to twist with a sickening mix of guilt and uncertainty. He stayed silent and watched as Isabelle set out a gift on the dining room table and headed outside, then followed her out.
Once the front door was shut, Marionette approached the dining room table and took the present in his hands. It was labelled to him, and it felt the proper size and weight to be another sweater. He hugged the box to him, barely able to wait to take it out and put it on. He only wished that he could've been a part of the reunion he observed. Sure, Mike knew he was there, but it wasn't the same as being an active participant.
Because Marionette knew that both he and Mike craved that motherly affection that Isabelle gave off. Mike hadn't had it in years and his more recent memories of it were tainted by destruction. Marionette meanwhile knew nothing about his mother, save what he heard second hand and a pregnancy video she had made for him, which was currently hidden back in the attic. If he had the chance that Mike had, he didn't know if he would be able to hold back. This was partially why he was so insistent that Mike saw his mother.
He moved to the dining room window to peer through the blinds. Mike and Isabelle were hugging again, now in the dim light of the evening, and Marionette chimed happily. He would've loved to have been a part of it, but it felt just as good to watch it. The two pulled away and Isabelle got into her car as Mike leaned on the window, chatting about something briefly with a smile, still wearing that obnoxiously purple sweater which Marionette was already in love with. Then he drew back, and the car started to slowly pull out.
While Marionette saw a calm man waving goodbye to his mother, Mike was feeling anything but calm. This was supposed to be the end of the visit. She was leaving without a hitch and on a positive note. Yet something was tightening in his chest and he couldn't figure out what it was. He pulled himself together enough to wave back at his mother, watching her pull down the driveway, and then his hand froze in place. It stayed poised in the air for a second as Mike just stood there, unmoving, staring after his mother as she started to turn to pull out.
"No matter what you do with your life and no matter what decision you make-."
"Mom, wait!" Mike blurted out. He made a few frantic arm waves and gestures to try and stop her.
Inside the house, Marionette could vaguely hear Mike calling out, but that was only because Mike was calling loud enough to be heard. Isabelle looked confused as she rolled down her window. Mike coaxed her back up into the driveway, his movements becoming slightly more erratic.
"What is he doing?" Marionette curiously wondered. It could have been that Mike suddenly had a lapse of separation anxiety and wanted one last moment with his mother. Yet as Isabelle got out of the car, and as Mike started to begin to pace and rub at his face, Marionette started to realize that something else was happening.
"Mom, there's something… There's something I need to tell you," Mike started to get out, but then cut off as he turned and faced her again. She looked so concerned, so full of worry and love, but seeing her also reminded him that he was about to do something very stupid. Something that he could still willingly back out of. With a huff, he crossed over to her car and leaned on it, dropping himself onto it. Part of him noticed the irony of the situation; making a confession in the same position that Phone Guy had.
"Michael, Honey, you can tell me anything," Isabelle assured as she laid a hand on his back. Mike immediately drew back from her touch, suddenly feeling hypersensitive from a growing rush of adrenaline. He already knew that he was about to do something awful and yet he let it take its course.
"It's Mari," Mike began. "He's inside the house…"
Marionette had watched everything up until this moment and was feeling a growing pang of panic. "He wouldn't…" He drew back from the window and began to hover in a pacing motion. "He wouldn't. He wouldn't even think for a second that it was a good idea," he assured himself. Either way, he felt unable to look out the window, and instead waited to hear the car start again. Instead, he started to hear footsteps, and he raised his head when he recognized that Mike wasn't approaching the front door alone.
"Oh Mike, no. No, no, you can't have," Marionette warned in his head as he teleported out of the living room and into the safety of his box. He closed the lid to just a slither, just enough so he could barely peer out of the box, and waited to see what was going to happen. Mike couldn't be that desperate. Mike couldn't think this was a good idea.
Yet Mike opened the bedroom door and flicked on the light. Marionette closed the lid, but was sure that Mike saw him. He hoped that he got the message that this was a terrible idea, but doubted it reached him. Mike still entered the room, with Isabelle lingering in the doorway behind him. He approached the box and tiredly laid his hand on the top. "He's in here," Mike revealed.
"…He's in that box?" Isabelle asked in confusion. She seemed rather doubtful.
"Yeah. Right in this box, right now… Or I think-." Mike briefly lifted the edge of the lid until he caught sight of the dark figure inside. Marionette promptly dropped his head further inside. "Yeah, he's in here. He's probably not going to come out without a fight, but he's in here."
Marionette winced and pulled himself tighter inside, feeling more cramped by the situation than by the box itself. He absolutely would not come out. Though it was now that Mike slid his fingers over the edge of the box, rubbing over the texture of it. Even though it was more the sound than an actual touch, it was somewhat comforting, even when he nearly wanted to throttle Mike for putting them in this situation. "Come on out… It's showtime."
As terrible as it was, Marionette rose just enough to peer under the lid at Isabelle. She was still watching with doubtful curiosity and seemed to be entirely without fear. He wondered if it was possible that she wouldn't be bothered by something like this; could she possibly be that like Mike? He didn't have long to dwell on it before Mike boldly opened the box the rest of the way. As terrible as an idea it was, Marionette felt compelled to raise himself out of the box, perhaps out of reflex.
The Puppet slowly revealed himself to the woman who Mike so dearly wanted to trust, revealing every stripe and every stitch of his slender form. Isabelle's confusion quickly devolved into surprise as she looked over the figure in the box.
"Alright, uh… Mom, this is Mari," Mike forced out. He had already come this far, so it wasn't as though he could turn back.
"…Excuse me?" Isabelle asked in return. It was obvious that she wasn't certain what was happening, and it wasn't truly sinking in.
"Mari… Marionette is an animatronic. He wasn't with his brother, he was just hiding back here…" Mike hesitated on that note for a moment. "And before you really think I've lost it, he's not a normal animatronic. He's not some s- he's alive…" He looked over, hoping said animatronic would back him up. The Puppet was as stiff as a board. "…I know it doesn't look like it now, but he likes to prove me wrong."
Isabelle cracked a smile. It was still clear that she wasn't fully grasping the situation. If anything, Mike only convinced her more that this was some sort of elaborate ruse. "Mike, I thought- you had me actually worried!" Isabelle remarked, following with a mock glare. "And aren't you a little too old to be playing with dolls?... Of course, I'm kidding! Don't give me that look."
"Mom, I'm not joking," Mike insisted more seriously. "This is the reason you haven't seen Marionette before now. We wanted to wait until… I thought you could handle it." He looked back to the striped animatronic and then back to his mother, who still looked amused. "Mom, you could at least indulge me with this."
"Oh, okay, let's see…" Isabelle crossed in closer and offered her hand. "Hello Mari! It's a pleasure to finally meet you." Mike reached up to rub at his face, trying to pretend that his mother wasn't patronizing him.
"What am I complaining about? This is great. I can just pretend this is some sort of fake show, buy her off, and pretend like nothing even happened. This whole thing was a bad idea anyway," Mike thought to himself. So, seeing as though Isabelle wasn't going to believe her anyway, Mike decided that the best thing to do was retract his confession. "You got me, Mom. This is all-." He was cut off as Marionette suddenly raised his hand and took Isabelle's. It was stiff, probably from him fighting his reflex to stay still, but still a gentle enough gesture.
Almost immediately, Isabelle's confusion returned. "…How did you do that without a remote or touching it?" she asked, still moderately sure everything was normal. Mike glanced to Marionette again and the puppet looked steadfast in his approach.
"Screw it. We're already this far," Mike again caved and took a small step away from the box. "Because I'm not doing it. See, look, he's moving on his own," Mike affirmed. "No strings, no cords, it's just him."
This was the first time that Isabelle noticed that Marionette wasn't hooked to anything she could see. She looked down into the box and could only see the collected bed of plush toys instead of the expected mechanics, and there were no cords around the box. While Isabelle didn't know too much about animatronics there were some things that were obvious, such as that a machine like this needed some form of a power source. The Puppet- or 'mime' as she saw it- didn't seem to be controlled by anything at all.
It was now that Marionette raised his other hand and gently laid it on her hand, giving a small chime as he did so. He was watching close enough that he could tell the exact moment when her amusement changed to realization. Next would come the shock and the fear, and he wanted to stop it before it even began. He would treat her with the carefulness of a child and hope that she would adjust. If he was careful the perhaps she wouldn't think he was dangerous. Isabelle's eyes only widened further, if they could, as is finally sunk in.
The room was heavy, and the tension was tightening in. There was another tense moment. Mike was holding his breath. Marionette was waiting for her to either accept it or run screaming from the room.
Unfortunately, she did the latter.
Isabelle gave a shriek of terror and yanked her hand back from the Puppet. Then she turned on her heel and took out of the room like she was being chased. Her footsteps could be heard down the hall along with cries of what might have been words. Mike and Marionette both stared after her silently.
Only now did Mike react, as he had somewhat been stuck staring after her, his mind drawing a blank after the sudden reaction. "Mom, wait!" Mike blurted out and sped off after her. "Wait, wait! Mom!" As he disappeared too, though was still in hearing range, Marionette slumped against the front of the box with his head in his hands. Maybe Mike was stunned at the reaction, but Marionette wasn't. He was more surprised that he had expected this to go any better than it did.
It was only worse when Mike came back into the room and announced, "She got out the front before I could stop her." He moved to the bed and instead of sitting on it, he sat beside it on the floor, staring at the carpet with a mix of shock and mortification. "Well, that went so much worse than I was expecting."
Marionette proceeded to raise his head and glare daggers at him. "What were you expecting?! For heaven's sake, Mike!" Marionette blurted out, overwhelmed with terror and anxiety. "And you were afraid I was going to show myself to her?! You could've at least-!" The conversation derailed itself as he got too worked up and 'Pop Goes the Weasel' began to resonate from him without his control. He stopped for a moment, trying to calm himself down and getting back out of his box. "Call her. Call her and tell her it was a trick."
"She's not going to believe that. She saw that you didn't have any strings or cords," Mike pointed out. "And at this point alone, she practically already knows twenty percent of what went down at Freddy's; between Patrick and all of that." In any other case, there would be something comical here, but in this case Mike was all out of ideas. "She's not going to tell anyone. I know Mom's not going to tell anyone… I'm pretty sure she won't." Marionette was less than impressed with Mike's lapse in confidence.
"Then I'll call her myself. I'll say I was at my brother's, that you called me, that it's a terrible joke- but I'm blaming you," Marionette affirmed as he frantically teleported out of the room. Maybe if he was quick he could still mend their lapse in judgement and save Mike's relationship with his mother. It would all be a terrible joke to show off the animatronic technology. Isabelle would understand, if be a little relieved, and everything would be fine and dandy once more.
Marionette dialed her cell phone number and waited for her to pick up. It didn't take more than a single ring. Her voice was shaky and sounded to be inside of a car, though he didn't know if she was currently driving or just out in the car, and he didn't care to check out the window, "Mike?"
"It's me, it's Mari," Marionette assured on the line. He kept his voice calm and comforting as he tried to explain, "Isabelle, there's been some sort of mistake."
"Mari, I was just- Where are you?!" Isabelle frantically asked. "I was just at the house and Mike was- he was saying that you and this mime- there was this- there was the mime-!" She said that as though she remembered seeing him before; perhaps from a poster or a plush toy. He felt panic welling inside at her reaction and he tried to push it back down and even his voice.
"It's not what you think. Mike wasn't thinking," Marionette assured. "Isabelle, just turn around and head back to the house. Mike will be able to explain- he was mistaken. That's all."
"It was moving!" Isabelle blurted out. "It was moving on its own! Oh my Lord, oh my goodness," Isabelle sounded like she was covering her mouth. She finished with a muffled, "He said the mime was you."
"Isabelle, you need to calm down and head back to the house," Marionette tried to assure, covering his own growing panic. He could feel the mechanisms under his buttons tightening. "He'll explain-." He broke off with a sudden off-tune rattling in his chest. A hand clamped over his mouth out of reflex, but the dropped to his chest in a more appropriate response. That was louder than he expected and unfortunately-.
"Did you- Did you just ring?" Isabelle bluntly asked as paranoia sunk in. Marionette scrambled for an answer, but could already feel his internal music box tightening up. It was going to happen again if he didn't get this back under control. "Mari?" He almost had it. He was almost calmed down enough to do this and he was prepared to calm her down. "Mari, Baby, what's going on? Please, I need- I need to know the truth."
There couldn't have been a worse time for her to use that word. Marionette was starting to crumble and did the only thing he could even think of.
"I'm sorry."
Then he slammed the phone onto the receiver before his voice could betray anymore. The call was ended, the question unanswered, and the situation made so much worse. He dropped his head into one hand, folding the other across his chest, and then retreated to his bedroom.
Mike was still sitting on the floor beside the bed and looked to Marionette when he walked in, "How'd it go?" In response, Marionette hovered towards the ground and collapsed over his lap, splaying half on the floor and half on Mike's legs. "That good, huh?" Mike sighed and leaned back against the bed. "I'll take the blame for it. I think that was the stupidest thing I could've done." In response, Marionette merely raised his fist and lightly thumped it against Mike's chest. Then they just fell into silence, trying to contemplate what they had done.
That was, until both heard footsteps at the end of the hall.
"She came back?" Mike asked in disbelief as he gawked at the door. Marionette took this time to frantically climb underneath the bed and hide underneath. Mike stood and headed to the door, looking out into the hallway to find his mother standing there, looking just as flustered as earlier. "Mom?"
"Mari just called me," Isabelle revealed, looking between him in the door. "Is that him? Is that really him? Mike, I swear, don't lie to me-!"
"And I have no clue what Mari told her. Of course." Once again, Mike was going in blind. "…Yeah Mom, it's him." The lie didn't work, so Mike would continue with the truth. "Look, I know it's weird-." Isabelle looked back to the door in paranoia. "-but it's a long story and the long and short of it is that he's… He's just a human in an animatronic body. It's as simple as that." He tried to use bluntness and calmness to get it through to his mother once more. She started to look more frantic again. "It's okay, Mom. It really sounds a lot worse than it is."
"Can… Can I see him?" Mike's brows raised in surprise. He glanced back into the bedroom for a moment.
"….You sure about that?" he asked. His mother nodded, still shaken but determined, and he stepped out of the way. She came to the doorway and looked across the room at the open box. "He's under the bed." Isabelle recoiled from the doorframe so quickly that she nearly elbowed Mike on the way back.
"It comes out of the box?!" she frantically asked. "Oh my gosh, no. I can't do this." She turned and started to head into the living room.
"Mom, how exactly did you think he called you?" Mike asked, though his question went unanswered. At this point Mike didn't know whether to be fully exasperated or concerned, but it was largely the former. It was clear that his mother had no intention of rushing off to tell anyone, and if she did then he would hopefully talk her out of it. As they entered the living room, Mike decided to go ahead and address this. "Mom, you can't tell anyone. Not even Patrick," Mike insisted, watching as his mother pattered around. "Mom, please."
"What?" Isabelle finally looked to him. "…No… No, I won't- Who am I supposed to tell, Michael?"
"Absolutely nobody. Nobody can know about this. Especially with Uncle Patrick since- don't say anything about Freddy's- he'salways asking so many questions," Mike managed to cover quickly. Isabelle still seemed confused as she watched her son move to sit down at the dining room table.
"But I thought- You told me, Mari told me that he had a father and siblings! His brother-," Isabelle cut off as Mike pointed to one of the pictures on the wall. Specifically, the one he had looked at when he first realized how Marionette was related to Fredrick. She approached and peered at the photo, still clearly confused and overwhelmed. For the first time that evening, Mike felt bad for what he did, and not because of what it meant for him and Marionette. His mother had been happy, their night had been fine, and he had caused all this mayhem.
Mike folded his arms and rested his head on them on the table, trying to consider where to go next. Isabelle approached the table and at first he though she was going to reach for him, but then she instead grabbed the wrapped present off the dining room table. She hesitated a moment, getting her nerve together, and then announced, "I'm going to take it in to it. I'm going to go see it."
Mike wasn't too surprised by his panicking mother's insistence to go back in. After she sat out in the car instead of leaving, he only became more convinced that his need to constantly get himself around possibly dangerous animatronics was a family condition. "He's a he, Mom," Mike semi-casually, semi-exasperatedly answered.
"He looks very feminine," Isabelle pointed out, as though in defense.
"I know, Mom. That made the transition easier." At least he could get some good material out of this. Even if nobody was ever going to know about the disaster that went on tonight.
Mike didn't follow Isabelle. Mostly because he expected her to turn around and rush back, but also because he felt his presence would only make everything tenser. The woman continued down the hallway on her own and peered into the bedroom. Obviously the 'mime' had heard them earlier, as he moved right back into the box and was patiently waiting for her to come back. Isabelle was still scared stiff and stood in the doorway longer than intended, then carefully stepped inside.
Without a word over her shaky breathing, Isabelle moved in closer towards the box, still holding the present tightly. Once in arm's length, she stiffly held out the gift and watched carefully. Marionette reached out just as delicately, not wanting to startle the woman as he took the present. He then started to unwrap the present, taking care to rip as little of the paper as possible. Part of him just thought that the calmer he was, the easier this would be.
Underneath the wrapping paper was a clothing box that was opened to reveal another sweater. This one was a navy blue with light blue snowflakes dotting the front and back. Marionette chimed out of reflex and propped the box on the corner of his box so that he could lift the sweater out. It was a small and, even with his slender size, he could already tell that it wouldn't hang off him like his father's sweater. He eagerly started to slip it on and trilled at the velvety texture of the fabric. He could already tell that he would be wearing this at home for most of the winter. Perhaps he would even sneak it into work.
Then Marionette remembered that Isabelle was still there. He turned his head to look at her and contemplated how to address her. He supposed that he could try speaking, but he worried that her reaction would be even worse, so he waited for her. It became obvious that Isabelle was just as torn as he was. Finally, Marionette dared to reach out and took her hand in his again. Isabelle's eyes widened and her mouth clenched as though she held back a scream, but this time she held out.
The Puppet began to slowly pat over her hand affectionately. He tried to force down his nervousness as he squeezed her hand and tried to thank her through chimes. She looked over him, looking at the sweater, and then looked back to his masked faced.
"…It was always- You talked with me… On the phone?" Isabelle asked quietly. Her normally warm and motherly tone was shrouded by her own fear. "…Can you talk now?" He could feel the tightening in his chest, threatening to pop at any moment. "Please just say something."
"...I-I'm sorry," Marionette managed to force out, trying to pretend that he was still on the phone and trying to trick his body into cooperation. "I… I didn't… I didn't want to ruin this- hah," he choked out the last part with an off-tune crack. He looked down at the short woman and, regardless of her reaction, he couldn't help but feel the same attachment to her. "Because I'm like this… I didn't want to scare you..." The words finally came easier and he held her hand to his chest and the sweater.
Isabelle was originally startled by the voice, then looked scared again, and finally looked a little more accepting. Perhaps only because of the harsh reality that couldn't be denied. To the Puppet's surprise, she reached out and laid her other hand on his.
"Okay," Isabelle accepted. That was all she said and all she knew to say, but it was more than enough for the animatronic. Maybe the night didn't go as expected, but they were finally getting back on track. He was inwardly smiling much more than he wanted to show, to not scare her, but didn't hold back another light chime. "Do you... Like it?"
"I love it," Marionette replied, barely able to contain his excitement at her seeming acceptance of him. "It's perfect."
"I didn't think you would be-… I didn't know your size," Isabelle excused as comfortably as she could. "…I suppose Mike could've told me your coloring." She drew back her hand and reached upwards to lightly brush a finger over his cheek. She nearly gasped, "And it's real porcelain!" Marionette chimed again in amusement at Isabelle's curiosity starting to appear. "…I suppose Mike really has been playing with dolls." Marionette didn't know whether to be amused further or completely embarrassed.
But he could deny the trill that wanted to raise in his voice. If he dared to have closed his eyes, he could've imagined her exactly as his own mother. That was worth all of this.
Out in the dining room, Mike was waiting for whatever was to come, and was half surprised when Isabelle returned looking much more put together. He stood from the dining room table as Isabelle approached and gave him a silent hug. He was slightly surprised by the gesture, but hugged her back without complaint. After a few moments, she drew back. "I need to be going. It's getting so late as it is."
Mike was nearly floored by her casualness. "Uh… Okay? That's kind of quick, Mom. Is everything okay?"
"Everything's fine, I just… I need some time to think things through," Isabelle admitted. "I… I almost understand all of this, but it's just too much. I need a little time to take all of this in." She looked around at the house. "…Have you been living with him the whole time?"
"Yeah, he came with the house," Mike explained. He then exhaled slowly, "He's the reason I stuck around." Isabelle nodded without a word and the two pulled away from each other. "Let me walk you out to the car at least." Which Mike did, feeling a newfound relief in everything finally being over and with his mother finally being pacified.
And as terrifying as it all had been, Mike felt something that he hadn't felt in a long time; total trust to his mother. Maybe now the past would finally fade away and a new future would begin.
She gave him a lingering hug at the door before getting into her car to leave. It was clear that Isabelle would need time to adjust, but Mike finally knew that he could trust her, and in a way, that made it worthwhile. He headed back inside and found Marionette attentively waiting for him. Mike sent a glance over the new sweater he was wearing, "Cute."
"It is, isn't it?" Marionette spun in place. "She was going to take a picture, but with how flustered we were, I didn't think I would develop right." Everything was still a little awkward and Marionette rested his hands on the back of the couch, fixing the throw blanket that hung there. "Do you think she will keep her promise?"
"Yeah, Mom's… Mom's not going to tell her book club, if that's what you're thinking. It'd be a one-way trip to the insane asylum," Mike pointed out to reassure both of them further. "Besides, she'll be back. If something happened to us, then she wouldn't get to come back whenever she got the urge." Marionette sent him a quizzical look, seemingly unsure about this. "Schmidts always come back. It's our family motto."
"Huh. Ours too," Marionette added. He then chimed in amusement and watched as Mike lifted the camera from the dining room table. He turned it over in his hands.
"Before I cast this sweater into the depths of the attic, never to be seen again, you want to memorialize this moment? Just in case Mom does tell someone and we wake up tomorrow with the press, the cops, and Patrick all banging down the door. And probably Fritz taking his own pictures," Mike suggested. As casual as this all sounded, that rather possible situation would've been close to Mike worst nightmare. Only missing William and Henry coming out of the woodwork alive and hauling him and the rest of Foxy's staff to court.
"And we'll sneak out the back and hide out in the desert. What a wonderful idea!" Marionette teased as he took Mike's wrist and guided him towards the tree. He took the camera in a telekinetic hold and held it as he had done before, with his grasp only slightly faltering when Mike hooked an arm around him and pulled him in closer. He chimed happily and quickly fixed his sweater. "Your mother is an amazing woman."
"Yeah…" Mike smiled for the photo before leaning in a bit more and murmuring through said smile, "But we're never telling anyone else ever again."
"I think that goes without saying." The reply was punctuated with the flash of the camera. Another picture that nobody other than them would see. After tonight, they were more than content with that.
The thump through the wall alerted Scott that Ennard had come home. He partially jumped in his office chair, but was weighed down by his Maine Coon, which had decided that it wasn't too big to sit in his lap while he worked. The man scrambled to turn off his programming software and switched to monitoring the camera in the garage. With the light still on, it would be easy to see what Ennard was doing, but the lack of sound equipment meant he would hear nothing. Though from the way Ennard was thumping around in the kitchen, that wouldn't be much of an issue.
It was then that the garage door started to crack open and a metal arm slid through the gap in the door. Slowly, Scott raised a voice recorder to his lips to document what he was seeing.
"Ennard's coming in the garage. It's about eleven… Something. Earlier than usual," Scott narrated as he watched the wiry fingers feel over the plates of the Baby shell to make sure it was where it had been left. Then he began to contort his way inside the garage. It was only once Ennard was inside that Scott noticed how emaciated he looked. "He's… He's missing some wires… I guess they were too damaged to keep." Scott felt a little guilty at the revelation; just seeing Ennard so gangly felt wrong.
This didn't change how strong Ennard was, as he easily scooted the Baby shell out of the way to open the door and dragged inside what looked to be a wet garbage bag. Ennard dropped it on the concrete and then went to move the shell back into place to block the doorway off.
"Please don't be the neighbor's trash…" It was bad enough with the butter wrappers and flour everywhere; if Ennard was going to sling trash all over the place then Scott would have no choice but to step in. However, he was soon proven wrong when Ennard knelt, reached into the bag, and dragged out a mass of wires. The wires looked extremely similar to his own. "He… He brought wires home with him. I guess that means that he was at Afton's again, but I don't know what animatronic the wires came from."
Almost to answer his question, Ennard preceded to tear the bag open and revealed more wires, some loose plates, and what looked to be the remains of the Bonnie hand-puppet that Funtime Freddy used to carry.
"Scratch that. It looks like he's got parts from Funtime Foxy and Funtime Freddy." From the coloring, the faceplates had to belong to the former. "He's going to put himself back together."
Scott leaned in closer and tried to watch exactly what Ennard was going to do to assimilate these wires. He expected to see the animatronic literally unwind himself, as he did, but was instead rewarded with something much different. Ennard was somewhat turned, but he could see his bottom faceplates swing open and watched at Ennard lifted a few of the wires towards his mouth.
"He's, uh... He's eating the wires now," Scott recited as he watched the wires start to get dragged into Ennard's body. "…This wasn't really what I was expecting, but he's doing it."
In his torso and back, Scott could see the wires shifting and resetting as more were introduced into his body. Now Scott was starting to understand why Ennard had become familiar with the concept of eating so quickly. For a few minutes Scott gawked at what was a rather disturbing scene of an animatronic cannibalizing another animatronic. Or self-cannibalizing; Scott didn't know which was more appropriate. Ennard reached out to fiddle with the Bonnie remains as his other hand grabbed for more wires.
Both motions were stopped abruptly as Ennard froze in place. It took Scott only a moment to realize that he had spotted the unknown wires underneath the door. The animatronic slowly turned his head as he followed the wires along the floor, up the wall, and into the corner of the garage where the security camera was now mounted. Scott felt growing horror as the camera was spotted. Without a word, he rolled his chair back to the office door and locked it, the cat still on his lap, and rolled back just in time to see Ennard standing right under the camera.
He understood why Ennard kept his mask on now. Even with only the bottom plates open, he could see a terrifying looking endoskeleton hiding underneath. Most specifically, sharp, needle-like teeth that were currently holding the wires between them as they were slowly dragged into the animatronic's body and became part of him. Then, without warning, Ennard swiped an arm out and grabbed the camera out of the corner. Vision briefly shuddered as the camera jostled around in his grasp.
Ennard was either trying to be gentle or got extremely lucky, because the camera was undamaged and still recording as it was pointed to the wall. After a few seconds it came to a stop on the floor where the rest of the wires slipped under the door. The camera then followed to the crack in the door where it stopped. Shortly after, the door was forced open and the camera view continued to follow along the cords. Scott's heart began to pound as he heard Ennard's footsteps leading up to the door and watched as the video camera raised to point at the door.
There were a few heavy seconds.
The security camera then drew away and aimed towards the bedroom. Ennard slowly moved closer, his footsteps quieting just a bit, and then he nudged open the bedroom door open and peeked inside. Even with the bedroom light off the camera could pick up that the bed was empty, which meant that the animatronic saw it too. The camera slowly drew back out of the room and turned back towards the office. The growing adrenaline started to pump through him, leaving him feeling lightheaded and uncomfortable, and he was about to panic.
"…He's not going to do anything," Scott reminded himself. "He's just as scared as me as I am of him. That's- That's why he's hiding…"
The camera just lingered outside the door as the sound of wires sliding over wood could be heard. The animatronic was clearly listening in and trying to hear what was happening inside of the office. With Scott as silent as could be, the only noise was the sound of his Sphynx clawing at her scratching post and the soft rubbing of wires on wood. The security feed didn't show anything either.
Finally, the camera turned and Scott caught sight of Ennard's wires as the camera was propped on the back of the armchair. He stepped out of view, leaving the security camera resting on the armchair, aiming towards the office door. Scott could nearly feel the blood draining from his face, but then noticed the sound of leaving footsteps as Ennard headed back to the garage. Scott pushed back to the door and listened against it, recognizing the sound of the garage door shutting. Though now he couldn't see what was happening inside of the garage.
Then again, Scott had a feeling that he didn't want to know what Ennard had been doing.
"…He's back in the garage," Scott alerted the tape as he returned to the desk. The camera was still aimed at the office door. "And… He knows I was recording him… So, putting the camera back up isn't going to work… Unless I put it somewhere else in the house." He sunk down into his seat and pet over the lazy cat in his lap. The cat was now awake, but still uncaring to the situation at hand, and not noticing anything was amiss. "He's going back to Afton's… I don't know why he waited until now, unless he hasn't been able to get back in."
It was very likely that the security on ARI had only intensified now that they technically broke in. Whoever bought the building probably put in security cameras. Hopefully Ennard was just as aware of those cameras as he was with Scott's own. Or, better still, maybe Ennard would stop going back. Maybe this was all that he needed, but Scott wasn't too certain. With an uneasy sigh, he decided to finish the tape.
"I'll move the camera into the kitchen in the morning."
Mike knew it was sometime past midnight even before he checked the clock. A dim light shined in from the cracked bedroom door and Marionette was nowhere to be found. Mike pulled himself out of bed and approached the door, deciding that he didn't need to turn the light on. In the hallway he could hear a woman's voice and the light from the living room was coming from the television. It seemed odd that Marionette would have gotten up to watch television this late, so he continued out to the living room.
Marionette was kneeling on the floor in front of the couch. He was still wearing his new sweater and seemed entirely transfixed on the image on the television. Mike stopped at the back of the armchair and squinted at the glare of the television. On screen was a woman who looked to be in her thirties with short blond hair, pointing to a picture of a sonogram and chatting on about various things. It didn't take Mike even a moment to realize that it was Marionette's mother.
The Puppet turned his head to look towards the security guard, who considered leaving the room. He wasn't certain if this was one of those things that he wanted to be alone for or if he needed to step in, but it was clear that there weren't any fresh on his mask. It only took a few seconds before Marionette patted the floor beside him invitingly. Mike approached without hesitation, but was still a little groggy as he sat down on the carpet and watched the woman on the screen. She certainly didn't look anything like his mother, but a familiar affection resonated off her.
She was excitedly listing out their choice of names; none of which being the one that Marion was finally given. She had no idea of the situation, nor what was coming. Whatever the past was- other than a confusing mess- didn't matter. How she died, how her children died, and who she was married to was not important. All that was important was her and the baby on the sonogram who she was already doting over. It was just a moment between mother and child that Mike was able to observe, introducing him to Marionette's mother.
Sleeping could wait. For now, they just watched a glimpse of what used to be.
Mable: Turns out that Foxy's night is too long to fit into this chapter. XD I figured that out about halfway through and after trying to squeeze it in unfinished, realized that it would just not make it. Alas, the fox will have his day!... Hopefully. I hope everyone had a Mari Christmas and a Happy New Year!