You know, it might be a little late to say this…but given what I said three or so chapters ago (about how other projects make me forget about this one), you guys are free to send me a message to remind me that this story is still a thing that needs to be updated. If I take too long again, don't hesitate to PM me.

Lgclark40: Thank you!

Chapter seventeen: From the past

Foxy sat in darkness.

She'd grown to like the dark. The loneliness. Oh, she loved company, but these days, there were moments when she just wanted to be nowhere. Sitting in her cove with the lights off came closest to that.

Her ruminations still lingered in her mind. She'd grown so accustomed to having Douglas come in every night that, even days after receiving news of him quitting, she still had a hard time grasping that he wasn't going to come back. It was the end of an era.

Well, he wanted to take action…and if there was anything she'd come to know about the nightguard, it's that he could be a quick learner if he wanted to be. No wonder his father wanted him back in college.

So… Was it true? Was this how Douglas would stop his father's pursuit for the truth?

Why would he go this far without even saying goodbye?

She huffed. You're being too sensitive, she told herself. He did what he had to in the moment to stop Mortar. No time for goodbyes. But she didn't feel much better about it. She'd wanted him to prioritize his own future over hers, but what kind of future was he really securing here? One where his father lorded over him for years to come, scrutinizing every little thing he did? He hadn't chosen to go back to college out of his own free will; he'd done that to keep the restaurant safe. Once again he'd chosen her future over his.

No time for goodbyes…

She stood up and left her cove. There was something she had to do. A big part of her cried out as she stepped through the curtains, telling her that it would only cause more pain, but she ignored it. If Douglas could take action, so could she.

She made her way straight to the manager's office. The janitor gave her a glance, but didn't think twice about her roaming around. Since Kyle found out about her sentience, she and the others had grown a little more liberal with walking around after closing.

She knocked on Kyle's door and opened without waiting for a response. The manager still sat there, doing paperwork. Did this man ever sleep?

"Kyle," Foxy said lowly. "Ya said you had my old memories stored away somewhere, right?"

Douglas looked at the form before him. He'd just spent the last couple of minutes filling it out, informing the university about some personal details. If he remembered anything about Coldland, it's that they still preferred paper over e-mail from time to time. And for some reason, Nicholas had told them to deliver the form to his home, rather than Douglas'.

Placing the pen on the small table, he sighed and leaned back on the couch. His mind immediately went back to the restaurant. He wondered how the animatronics had taken the news. They were used to guards leaving. Maybe Douglas was just another drop of water in the ocean.

He'd have to wait until he got home. See if Golden visited, like she used to.

He barely spared a glance when Nicholas sat down next to him.

"Are you done?" the older man asked, taking the form. "Ah, good. I'll deliver it for you shortly." He glanced at Douglas. "I understand you've been very busy lately. I hope you'll take this time to recover a little. You're free to stay here for as long as you need."

"No," Douglas said quietly as he got off the couch and made his way to the kitchen. "I think I'll go home after this."

He felt his father's eyes in his back. That feeling persisted when he took a carton of orange juice from the fridge and poured it into a glass.

"Can I have some of that too?" Nicholas asked.

Douglas hesitated, looking at the carton in his hand. He could practically hear Brunette telling him to disobey. Foxy, telling him to just put it down, if only to show Nicholas that he didn't control him.

Douglas glanced over at his father's stern gaze.

Finally he grabbed another glass and poured it. He wordlessly brought it to the table and set it down.

As he himself sat next to Nicholas, he exhaled a quiet sigh. Some things never changed.

Foxy followed Kyle down a set of stairs to the building's basement—a place she'd never visited before. The previous location had one too, but that one had mostly remained unused. This one, though… It looked clean. Tidy, with boxes and other items neatly stored on shelves, and a floor completely devoid of dust. Bright lights gave the place an almost sterile look.

On the other end was a big square vault door.

Foxy curiously observed it. She realized she'd clenched her fist again, and grimaced.

"So, how's this work?" she finally asked, trying to control the tremble in her voice. "Ya got my memories here, or…?"

Kyle glanced at her. "This is…one of the places with a backup," he said quietly. "I had several more copies made, just in case. They're…elsewhere."

"What's that got to do with this? I just wanna see my memory storage."

He nodded. "Of course."

She glanced away, feeling stupid at her outburst. Kyle didn't seem bothered, but still…

"… Thanks," she finally forced out. "For, uh, answerin' my question."

He glanced at her. "I can't give the memories back to you," he finally said.

"Who said I wanted that, anyway?"

"Well… If you do want it, maybe I could give Bill a call."

She stared at him. Their gazes remained locked for what felt like an eternity.

She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't find words. She caught herself hesitating. How could she respond to that? She really didn't feel like waiting. She didn't feel like calling Bill for what could end up being a wasted trip. She…

"… Yeah," she said in a small voice. "Let's do that."

Douglas said nothing as Nicholas overlooked the forms. He could barely bring himself to sip his drink.

"Looks good," Nicholas said.

Douglas remained silent, though he felt the man's eyes on him yet again. He intently refused to return his gaze.

Nicholas sighed. "Listen, son. Sometimes, people grow…attached…to things they shouldn't. And…"

In a spike of anger, Douglas rose and stepped to the window. "Just deliver the letter," he said quietly.

Only then did he realize what he'd done. He froze. He could practically feel Nicholas' eyes narrowing further. Had he really taken that tone in front of his father?

Foxy sat on the ground for what felt like an eternity. When finally the basement door slammed and Bill and Kyle descended the stairs, she stood.

She looked at Bill. His usual dour expression had a glimmer of… Was that sympathy or hope?

"… So," Bill finally said. "Kyle said you were thinking about getting your memories back."

"Aye," she said quietly.

Bill nodded. Then he glanced at Kyle and gestured with his head to the silvery vault door. The two men made their way over. Foxy followed.

Kyle punched in the code on the small keypad, then turned the handle. He glanced at Foxy and nodded.

The apprehension in her gut spiked. She stepped over and took the handle in a cramped hand. Ignoring the stab of hesitation, she pulled the heavy door open, slowly revealing what lay beyond.

A small room. A man-sized computer server, attached to a monitor, stared back at her silently. She held its nonexistent gaze, not sure if she should be relieved. She'd expected it to look…bigger?

Bill stepped towards the device and pressed a few buttons, causing the screen to light up. "Give me a minute," he said.

"Those restaurant friends of yours…" Nicholas finally said. "I can see they've been a bad influence on you."

And the anger came back, drowning out Douglas' apprehension. It flowed back more slowly than earlier, but it made his gut burn all the same—like a fire that spread from his stomach to his limbs and to his hands, curling his fingers and turning them to fists.

"I could say the same about you," Douglas said.

Once again, silence. Douglas had spoken without thinking. But he didn't need to think. He didn't need to limit himself. Not anymore, not now. The fire only grew more brazen, demanding to be released.

"Is that a fact?" said Nicholas in a dangerously slow voice.

Douglas turned to him, fear and rage clashing in his gut, making him tremble. With a rapidly beating heart, he recalled Foxy's words, and Brunette's.

He roughly set his glass onto the table.

"Always saying I have to become a self-sustaining adult," Douglas hissed. "But always lording over me as you see fit, like I'm still a child."

"Only because you act like one."

"See, there it is again! You're never wrong! Always so bent to steer me in the direction you want, just so you can have two model sons to prance around with!"

"How dare you!" Nicholas said, rising. "I am your father!"

"No, no, no—I'm more of a trophy, so you can tell everyone how great you and your family are!"

Nicholas' eyes bulged. He was about to say something else when he suddenly froze, looking at something behind Douglas. Douglas turned to see his mother standing on the stairs, staring at them.

"Am I interrupting something?" she said sternly.

And just like that, the fire was gone. How long had she been standing there? How much had she heard?

He hesitated, trying to think about what to say. Nothing came.

Finally he whispered, "I was just leaving."

Leave he did.

Foxy grimaced as Bill cut into her synthetic flesh, deep enough to reach the metal parts underneath. Her 'organs.' Her endoskeleton.

Her mind.

More slicing. She and the others felt pain differently from humans—at least, that's what she'd understood by observing the humans' reactions to it—but it was still unpleasant. Especially when something was cut into her so slowly, so prolonged.

Bill reached inside her cuts, attaching cables to her inner endoskeleton. She grimaced again as she felt it, like something was directly attached to her very being. Her memories. Her…self. An extension of her mind, albeit an unexplored one.

She avoided Kyle's gaze as he observed the events happen. His gaze was unreadable. Foxy was trying to keep herself calm throughout it all, but there was no denying that they were getting closer to something that could change her life forever. Again. And this would be a greater change than anything else she'd undergone before.

"Alright," Bill finally said, stepping back to the monitor. "You ready?"

This was it. The moment of truth. She could still go back, continue to live her life, leave things here and forget…

No.

No, I can't. I won't.

She couldn't forget, even if she tried.

"Just do it," she said quietly.

The air stood completely still.

Bill nodded.

Then he turned to the monitor. He tapped a few keys on the keyboard, and the screen responded accordingly.

Then, the data flowed, and everything stopped.

Douglas took a breath, inhaling the fresh evening air. It felt good. His parents' house was a little stuffy.

He started walking. Where to? His apartment, probably. His legs carried him in the right direction by pure instinct.

"Golden?" he tried.

No response.

He sighed quietly. Of course not. She wasn't always present, though he dearly wished she was now. But maybe it was for the best. Maybe he should separate himself from the restaurant altogether, lest Nicholas sent Mortar again.

A pit formed in his stomach. When he applied for the job, he never suspected it'd end like this.

Slowly, he made his way home.

"It's fine," Spring muttered to herself, her arms wrapped around her legs as she sat in the corner. "It's fine. He'll be back. He'll visit. Or maybe we'll visit him." She paused, then glanced to Golden, who sat in a chair. The bear's dark gaze looked into space. "Right, Golden? You can still talk to him, right?"

"Yes."

Spring paused at her friend's standoffish tone. "… Right! Yeah! Can you…talk to him right now?"

Golden didn't respond at first. Then she turned to face Spring with a stern gaze in her eyes. "Later."

"Later?" Spring's ears drooped. "Why? Why not now?"

"Now…" Golden turned her attention back to the wall. "I've got something else to look after."

"But…we'll see him again…right?"

"Of course."

They said nothing more after that.