Hope everyone's having a good holiday season!

"Hey, Laura..."

"Michael-" she gasped, running from the door as she collided with him in a fierce hug.

"Oof-" the boy managed, trying feebly with his weak limbs to hug her back as her arms wound tight around him.

"I can't believe you're awake- I'm so sorry I wasn't here, I was getting supplies at the store, and- oh, Mike, I'm so sorry!" she apologized in a distressed ramble. "I should've told Henry sooner, we might have been able to help you before all of this got as bad as it did!"

"W-What-?" Michael stuttered, half-out of breath from how hard his chest was being squeezed. She appeared to have little clue as to how constraining her grip was, fingers knit tightly into his oversized t-shirt.

He watched as Henry leaned against the doorway. The man dawned a small, knowing smile, arms crossed as he observed the two. "She's been at your side nearly every minute these last few days," he explained with a tilt of his head. "I made her go get some things to get her out of the house. And of course, that was when you decided to wake up."

Michael managed a stiff nod as the girl finally let go, leaning back with hands on his shoulders to get a better look at him.

"He's already gotten so much more color," she spoke to Henry and Charlie as her cool hand touched his cheek. "Not looking as pale as he was..." she muttered.

The boy couldn't help but blush a little at her touch, flustered and feeling like a sick child with a fretting mother. "L-Laura, I'm fine-" he stammered, trying with what little strength he had to sit up straight. Said comment earned a fierce glare from the woman facing him, and he gulped. "You were not fine, Michael Richard," she hissed, hand tensing on his shoulder, eliciting a flinch at her tone. Even Henry looked down at the floor, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly- not even he addressed the boy like that.

Michael bit his lip, feeling his face flush more from embarrassment. "W-Well, I'm feeling a lot better- really," he tried to assure, and Laura's eyes narrowed for a brief moment.

"Honest!" He furthered before her expression softened, hands fell from his shoulders.

"Fine," she sighed in defeat, still worried as the boy scooted up to a better sitting position. Henry cleared his throat.

"Though, ah... he's in need of some food. How about it?"

"Yes please," Michael gasped relievedly, forcing his legs over the side of the mattress. Laura was beside him in a second, arm looping around his back to support him and to ease the weight off of his shaky frame. He had half a thought to protest; he never liked accepting help, especially for something as menial as walking downstairs to the kitchen, but his feet quaking dangerously below him convinced him otherwise.

They started toward the stairwell, Henry and Charlie well ahead of them as Michael leaned on her support. "Thanks," he muttered quietly, feeling his face flush in embarrassment for a second time.

"Don't mention it," she said with a smile in an equally quiet tone.

The boy thanked her again mentally, knowing she was aware of how uncomfortable this disability was for him as they reached the ground floor. Laura walked him carefully to the armchair closest to the kitchen, leaving only for a moment to retrieve a stray blanket to throw over him.

"O-Oh, you don't need to-" Michael tried to protest before she hushed him. "Nope," she debated. "The last thing we need is for you to get feverish again," she explained, tucking it securely around him before standing to walk to the kitchen.

The boy's cheeks burned and he felt grateful that the chair faced away from the others.

"What do you think, Henry, should we reheat that soup from the other night?" He heard her inquire behind him.

"Sure. I'll make everyone some toast," the man replied, and Michael heard the two busying themselves in the kitchen, hearing the clink of a pot on the stove and the sound of the toaster popping. He bit his lip, feeling rather awkward not being able to help and instead picked at a stray string on the blanket to distract himself while they worked. Before long, bowls of steaming broth and plates topped with bread and fruit were placed on the coffee table in front of him.

The boy counted the dishware, brow furrowing in confusion as Charlie sat in the armchair across from him with a flat expression. Henry carefully gave Michael his helping, taking a bowl and plate for himself while Laura sat beside him with her food, leaving nothing left for the girl sitting near the TV.

"Aren't you going to...?" He posed, confused as Charlie's dark eyes met his.

"I don't eat." She said simply.

The boy's eyes widened for a moment, recognizing the obvious before feeling very awkward. "O-Oh- sorry-" he stuttered, feeling awful for having pointed such an evident detail; she probably missed eating, after all.

"It's fine, I don't think about it much anymore," she admitted remotely, gaze moving to examine her hair which she was playing with between elongated fingers.

Michael breathed out a sigh, glad that she didn't seem too displaced by his blatant comment- or hopefully not, anyway. The girl had taken on an even more indecipherable disposition in their time apart, apparently. He finally looked down at his bowl to see a cloudy, light froth with a few white and green elements protruding from its depths.

He leaned down, catching a whiff of its contents. It wasn't something he recognized.

"What is this?" He asked, pointing at the bowl.

"Miso," Henry replied, sipping on his spoon. "It's from a new Japanese joint in town. It's plenty good and will certainly help settle your stomach. I don't think you've eaten since your last shift."

Michael felt odd hearing that, he knew it was the twenty-third now, meaning that had been over a week ago. No wonder he felt so tired.

Looking down, he stirred the contents of the bowl before hesitantly bringing the spoon to his lips, seeing more clearly the chunks of tofu and whatever the green stuff was- he usually wasn't adventurous with Asian cuisine, but he was starving, so whatever. He cautiously drank it down, discovering it wasn't to his dissatisfaction as notes of something salty and savory hit his tongue.

Not too bad.

The boy continued to eat, already feeling a little stronger with something in his stomach. He was the slowest to work his way through dinner, but no one seemed to mind. They had begun to watch the evening news, the remote held in Charlie's lithe fingers.

"-Thanks, Cathy. And on a more local note, authorities are warning residents to increase home security as further robberies are being reported in St. George," the news-anchor spoke, a stack of freshly-printed papers in his hands. "The attacks have so far been contained to businesses, but police are recommending everyone to stay on the safe side and to lock their doors and windows. Those who have access to security cameras are advised to..."

Michael's brow furrowed, tuning out the rest of what the man had to say. "Robberies?" He asked.

Henry looked over at him behind narrow reading glasses. "They've been a regular for the last two weeks or so. You've not heard?" The boy shook his head, he wasn't one for watching the news or reading the paper. The man hummed.

"I suspect it has something to do with your father since sightings of the Bonnie suit have been reported down there also," he elaborated, setting his empty bowl and plate on the table.

"Why would my dad be stealing, though?" Michael inquired in confusion, setting his own dishes down.

"Well, look. The places that have been stolen from are hardware stores," Henry explained, gesturing to the TV where images of familiar appliance companies were displayed. "All locations you'd find tools and gears. But what I find most telling is that the largest Fazbear Entertainment inventory warehouse has been targeted also."

Michael's eyes grew a little, making contact with Laura's who had a similar expression as he glanced back at the screen. Sure enough, the St. George site was there with the others.

"He's... stealing tools and parts... designed for Fazbear technology?" He questioned aloud, looking back at Henry.

"I think so," the man replied. "Perhaps to try and fix up his suit; I'm sure it had plenty of damage from the fire and its wear."

Michael's brow furrowed. "But- that doesn't make any sense, he passed through Hurricane and the house has plenty of parts and more tools than any of these stores would, why wouldn't he just break in and take what he needs?" He protested.

Henry laced his fingers together, elbows propped on the arms of his chair as he eyed him. "I don't think he wants to. Simply put, Michael... he knows you're here. He doesn't want to target the house."

The boy felt his heart drop into his stomach at the man's remark for some reason he couldn't identify. The thought of the thing that was now his father knowing where he was didn't sit well with him. "Do you think he'll ever try to..." he trailed fearfully.

Henry hesitated. "...Not now, at least," he said plainly.

He gave no further elaboration which allotted Michael little comfort. He leaned back in his chair, jaw clenched and mind racing over a dozen terrifying possibilities.

"Well... what now?" Laura asked in an unusually timid voice. He looked up, confused at her question before Henry spoke.

"A few things," he started, pointing at Michael. "This one is staying here and getting plenty of rest." The boy opened his mouth to protest, but Henry raised a hand to quiet him, and continued. "I for one, want to know how he's still alive to begin with. I'm not the scientist William was, but there has to be some explanation for it. Secondly, this matter of what happened in the rentals needs investigating, as does William's current motives."

"Great, we can help," Michael cut in before Henry could continue. The man shot him a disapproving look. "I don't think so. You're in no condition."

"I'm feeling better!" He objected, getting to his feet. And he was, but he couldn't help noticing the lack of strength still present in his body. He ignored it as Henry's eyes narrowed. "You are severely injured and are so because of what he created. You've done your part and you won't be involving yourself with this anymore," he affirmed with finality.

Michael couldn't help the swell of anger in his chest, tongue moving of its own accord.

"What, are you saying I screwed up? That I'm not capable of doing this, is that it?!" He shot back, fists clenched at his sides.

"Michael-" Laura hissed to him, shocked at his demeanor as Henry too stood. "I'm saying you made reckless decisions without any thought as to what might happen to you," he retorted angrily. "And here you are, ready to make them again!"

"Papa," Charlie rebuked from across the table as the two glared at each other. "I was looking for answers that no one ever gave me," the boy snarled, ignoring her. "Just like you said. And now you want to keep me in the dark again, don't you?"

"It's not that, I-" Henry started before Michael interrupted him.

"Am I too much of a risk? Worried I'm going to turn out like dad?" He jeered. The man's sharp eyes widened. "No-"

The boy exclaimed. "Then, what?!"

"-I can't lose you, blast it all!" Henry shouted over him, and the room fell still at his outburst with only a toothpaste commercial from the TV to disturb the tense quiet. No one spoke as the man pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing as he looked down at the carpet, and Michael instantly felt himself regretting his words, guilt twisting in him like a horrible, heavy snake.

"I can't lose you again." Henry finally broke quietly in an even tone, gaze still downcast.

Michael's mouth parted at his words as Laura's head turned to look at him as if wondering how the boy was taking such a statement. His eyes met hers for a brief moment before he gingerly broke the room's silence.

"...I need to do this, Henry. I need to fix this," he insisted softly. "I have to prove that I can."

At that, the man looked up with a worriedly furrowed brow, eyes meeting his, and in that moment, the elder seemed much older than he was, aged hurt, exhaustion, and anxiety written deeply into his features.

"You don't have anything to prove to anyone." he objected in a firm, low tone uncharacteristic of his usual oratory.

Michael frowned. "Except myself."

The man gazed at him and the boy recognized that same need in his dark eyes, knowing it was that that had motivated him to do something about his father's crimes all those years ago. He couldn't turn him down, now.

Henry sighed with a small frown. "Then, we're doing this together," he relented softly. Michael nodded.

"I can do that."

The air in the room seemed to lighten as the tenseness dissipated. "Are... we good, now?" Laura posed quietly.

"Yeah," the boy answered, glancing sheepishly at Henry. "I'm sorry."

The man's mouth thinned as he nodded once. "So am I, Mike," he murmured regretfully before sighing, looking at Charlie as he put his hands on his waist in a down-to-business manner. "Well, now that that's decided... what do we do first?"

The girl's dark eyes met his and swept over the other two in the room for a brief moment. "I think we need to keep tabs on Elizabeth, or whatever she is, now."

"Like, spy on her?" Laura questioned. "Ideally," Charlie replied coolly, glancing at her. "I don't think trying to interrogate her is a good idea right now. She's just escaped the underground and probably isn't eager to go back, she'll see any advances we make as a means to return her."

Michael shuddered, remembering his last moments with her in the rentals. "Yeah, let's not do that."

"How are we to watch her, then?" Henry said, pointing out the obvious with a raised brow.

"I can keep an eye on things," Charlie answered smoothly. "It's not like I haven't had to do it before. I can find her and check in with what she's up to."

"Let's do that, then," Henry nodded in approval. "In the meantime, we only have a few, vague leads..." he murmured, hand stroking his chin in thought as he gazed at a spot on the carpet. "What about William's workshop?" Laura chimed in from the couch. The three looked at her.

"Mike said he meant to investigate it before his last shift," she elaborated.

"Oh!" The boy exclaimed, surprised that he'd forgotten as the others turned to him. "Yeah, I thought there might be some notes or something in there that might explain how he was still alive or fill in some gaps or something. I never got to doing it."

"That sounds like a great place to start," Henry nodded. "We can go once you're stronger and case Elizabeth in the meantime."

"Sure, but... how are we going to get in? It's restricted," Michael added.

"The rentals?" Laura asked. "They're closed."

"Closed-?" The boy stuttered, confused.

"They shut down only a few days ago, actually. I think they must have realized one of their robots was missing and... whatever scene was left behind from the scooping room. They aren't ones for lawsuits, you know," Henry explained with a light wave and a roll of his eyes.

"The dead technicians probably didn't help," the boy added casually, sitting back down as his head began to spin from standing too long.

He didn't notice the others exchange looks as he sighed, hands shaking lightly. "Right..." Charlie murmured. "Well, I'll leave now and start searching. I'll be back in the morning," she spoke. Henry nodded approvingly. "We'll plan on you. Laura, could you take Mike up to bed? I have to make some calls."

"Of course," she agreed, moving to help the boy to his feet. He again found himself unable to object to her help, suddenly very exhausted and lacking the energy to carry himself as her arm wound around his back. The two trod carefully up carpeted stairs, taking a slow pace until they reached his room. He hardly noticed the time that passed as it seemed he were in the living room one minute and being draped over his bed in the next.

"There..." the girl murmured softly, pulling his covers back over him, laying one hand over his brow to feel his temperature. "No fever."

"I'd hope not," Michael muttered tiredly.

"Me neither. It was hard seeing you in such a way," she confessed, tucking in his blankets as she began to meticulously check the bandages wound over his arms, working with focused diligence and care.

The boy stared at the wall as she touched the wrappings, holding back a frown.

"...I'm sorry," he finally mustered in what was barely a whisper. The girl stopped, brow furrowed as she looked at him, confused. "What-?"

"I... I didn't keep that promise I made you," he admitted regretfully. "Henry's right. I was reckless and I wasn't thinking about how it might affect me if I were injured or killed down here, and I'm so sorry..." he trailed, guilt seeming to weigh him into the bed.

"You deserved better from me."

Silence passed and Laura said nothing for a moment.

The boy wondered if maybe he shouldn't have said anything, cursing himself mentally, eyes scrunched closed before she broke the quiet.

"Michael," she began in a slightly broken voice.

His head turned and he was surprised to see unusual tears in the girl's emerald eyes, making them brighter than normal. "You're one of the only people in my life who's treated me right," she spoke unevenly. "So don't you go on about what I do and don't deserve from you, okay?"

The boy's mouth opened, wanting to explain how she did deserve better, especially from him- but at the desperate look on her face, he dispelled it and nodded, tears beginning to water in his own eyes.

"Okay."

The girl managed the teensiest smile and leaned over, hugging him gently. Michael returned it with what little strength he had, eyes closing in the safety of her touch.

"Thanks for not giving up on me..." he murmured softly.

He could hear a smile in her voice as she replied.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Mike."