He was light. Lighter than any young child or toddler should be. She tried not to think about all the potential diseases and or parasites he might be carrying but it proved to be hard.

Harder still when he woke up, groggy and disoriented, and vomited over Vanessa's shoulder. Most of it landed on her security jacket, which was a bummer because the facility tended to get chilly at night. She could always take her jacket off, but some of it….

….some of it landed on the back of her uniform, soaking into her undershirt.

"Suh-ree!" Gregory hiccuped, sobs wracking his body. "'m so, so suh-ree!"

He suddenly felt way too warm in her hold. Vanessa booked it to the nearest side door, hoping nobody questioned why the toddler in her arms was apologizing so profusely.

She shushed him, and offered meaningless words of comfort as she fiddled with her security badge.

The side door directly leads into a backroom of some sort. The room is decently sized for a storage room, the walls are gray, lacking in any decor. There's folded up mats in the corner and a laundry basket full of (hopefully) clean blankets.

Now, inside, in an enclosed space, the stench was harder to ignore. She tried to breathe through her mouth instead of her nose. It didn't work very well.

The throbbing in her temples returned with a vengeance, reminding her of why she left in the first place.

"Hey, Greg," she said, turning her head to look down at him. He was resting his head on her shoulder, eyes half-lidded, and the area around his mouth was covered in spittle and throw-up. "I'm going to clean up, and then I'll be back for you. 'kay?"

He nodded, head lulling off her shoulder, eyes already closed.

She pushes down the inkling of concern, and lays him down against a cardboard box labeled "Glitter Glue and Other Fun Art Supplies" outlined in, ironically, glitter glue. Vanessa made quick work of grabbing a cot and a blanket, and then getting Gregory situated.

"I really am sorry," she whispered to him, using her jacket sleeves to wipe at the crude around his mouth. Her pager rang (and god does she hate that thing with a burning passion! No one else has a pager, so why does she?) So, she did the only logical thing when your employment's at-will, and you've been missing for over an hour from an active shift, Vanessa ignored it (she is just ignoring everything today, isn't she?)

"I'll be back," Vanessa vowed, though she doubted Gregory could hear her.

She stood up and gave one last look at Gregory before realizing she had to go back outside, as the only other exit seemed to be a platform towards the front of the room. "Just my luck," she muttered, dragging her feet back to the door they came in. "Alright, I can do this."

Vanessa turned the door knob, and with that, she was back outside, facing the bitter cold.

-x-x-x-

If you were to ask Sundrop what his favorite things were, he'd answer in a list:

His friends. The children he watched day-in and day-out are the only company he had in terms of human interaction (sometimes he got jealous of how little attention they're paid by everyone else).

Art supplies! Anyone that ever attended the daycare can attest to that. Arts and Crafts was his favorite time of the day, and, if the kids were good and time permitted, he could sneak in another craft towards the end of the day.

Moon-most of the time, though he did kind of get on his nerves. Sun wasn't a human, and he had never had a family, but he thought of Moon as being the closest thing to a brother an animatronic such as himself could have.

And last, but not least, the light. His A.I. chip was only active in the light. In the dark, when the daycare is closed and no one is around, he has to sleep. He hates sleeping. Hates, hates, hates it! The feeling of floating in nothingness was enough to drive him mad (so why does he make Moon endure it?)

The last point being the reason he tended to stay in the backroom of the daycare. It was the only room where he could control the lights completely and avoid being watched by his friends through the cameras.

He crawled up there now, using the cable that Moon used, already having said goodbye to the last of his friends for the day. The lights by the security desk have shut off and it was only a matter of time before the entire daycare went dark.

The backroom was dreary. It held all the extra items the daycare could ever need. Boxes of books and art supplies and coloring pages. Crates full of plastic army men, dolls, and puppets. There was a small pile of cots in a very far corner of the room, decorated in spider webs as the daycare now used mats instead. If he squinted he could make out the faded name tags still on some of the rims. Right next to this was a small series of drawers, where they kept clothes for accident-prone kids, blankets, and plushies for his super anxious friends.

He sat down, already planning out what games he was going to play with his friends tomorrow. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he could hear Moon trying to tell him something. But to be able to hear him clearly, he would be required to turn the lights off, which he'd never, ever do.

"Ow!" Sun yelped, a pain he'd only ever experienced in the beginning trials of his existence from a trigger-happy engineer, spiked through his entire being. An electric charge that left him tense and unfocused. "Moon," he whined, wishing he could frown, "That hurt! You hurt me, no fair."

"Look," Moon whispered to him, which is a first. As far as Sun can tell, he was still in control. So, why was Moon talking to him? "Look!" He said again, more urgently.

Sun stood, hands on his hips, he surveyed the empty room. "What? I don't see-"

There!

"Oh! A new friend!" He yelled, taking the first step forward to go greet them.

"No!"

Sun was rooted to the spot, frozen. "Hey!"

Moon apologized. "He's sleeping. Good children sleep, so let him rest."

Ah, that makes sense. Moony has always been big on rest.

"Okay, but I want to sit next to him."

Moon sighed loudly. "I don't think that's such a great idea, Sun. He might-"

"Lalala I can't hear you. I can't hear you!" He held his hands over his ears. The shiny bells tied around his wrists, wrapped like Christmas presents, jingled with each movement.

"We share a body, idiot. You can't block me out."

"Yes I can~" Sun sing-songs, tilting his head from side to side.

"No you can't," Moon shot back.

"Can~"

"Can't!"

"Can~"

"Can't!"

"Can~"

"Mama? Hic…. mommy?"

Moon went silent, and Sun allowed his hands to drop to his lap. "New friend?" Sun leaned closer, but still kept his distance from the child so as not to startle or overwhelm them. "Are you okay? Did your mommy leave you here?"

The child looked at them with big brown eyes. Sun felt a sense of relief, and then….

…his new friend was screaming.