Author's Note:

First things first, we're proud to say that the Discord server reached one year today! Thanks to all the members sticking with us for so long. Hope you enjoy this chapter. We're back to the regular chapters for now.

Chapter 133

Lullaby

"How dare you imply Batman is in any way less than badass awesomeness!" Ruby shot back.

"The movies! The movies are awful." Hedy defended

Puppet listened to the playful bickering as both girls went on their way. He hoped Hedy would not need the supplies he borrowed.

Luckily, they were both too distracted to notice him hiding behind the door of a room as they passed down a hall.

Ruby had occasionally taken a liking to follow Hedy around when the mechanic had to go between Parts and Services and whatever room they were staying in for the night.

When they were gone, he slipped down the hallway toward a room. He utterly ignored that Goldy probably knew exactly where he was and what he was doing.

Someone (either an angry child or excited Ruby) had kicked a hole in a part of the wall so the room was closed off for a small construction project until the Manager could get off his cheap ass to pay someone a haggled, insultingly low fee to just plaster over the little hole. But the room was somewhere quiet to work on his injuries where he wouldn't be bothered.

He let out a soft hiss of pain as he lowered himself to the ground and leaned against the door. It had been a relatively long while since the coma week, but he lied about how much damage he sustained. They didn't suspect (he was much better at hiding it than anyone else), but Hedy would kill him if she found out. Verbally. She was too soft to get blood on her hands. Or oil, no matter her threats. And he wouldn't wish any different.

There had to be at least someone with stable morals in this place. Mike was a suitable back up but he was also an idiot. Or maybe that was just Puppet's distaste of the man's humor that was talking.

He didn't need Hedy's help. Never had. He had handled his own repairs since forever and he could handle it now.

Michael had beaten him up badly, Spring's metal fist doing more damage than fleshy human fists ever could. That didn't say very much. A human could probably snap him in half relatively easily if they knew where to hit and he didn't see them coming. He was more duct tape than circuitry at the moment and he had no idea where to find wood glue. He was lucky he was so lightweight because his own skeleton wouldn't be able to hold him up otherwise. He avoided picking up children. He had much fewer (working) motors than the others and thin tension cables and small spools made up most of his movement, pulling in and letting out the cables as he needed. He had a few that were lost causes and the spool in his hip was sticking, making the action slow. All manageable things, if painful and annoying. For now.

There was a strange nostalgia about this. Michael always "played rough." However, he was never very physical with Tim or Lizzy. Especially not Charlotte…

Puppet however? Younger Michael always explained his abuses away as Puppet being able to be fixed and nothing would be very permanent. But occasionally he slipped that 'the freak' shouldn't even be feeling pain at all, as if insulted when Puppet 'complained.' Michael got in trouble for it, of course, but he just got more sneaky and Mother and Fa- his creator had other things to concern themselves with, like money and the business starting, so Puppet didn't make it a habit to bother them too much. After certain events happened, Michael just didn't care to hide his hatred.

And Marionette actually couldn't blame him for that.

Puppet was unphased as the wooden skeleton of his left arm clattered to the ground as he slipped it out of the sleeve of his suit. It was snapped in half at the forearm and wrapped in duct tape. His wires were the only thing that kept it together at times.

Someone made a small gasp at the noise, and he stiffened.

"Cheryl?" Puppet asked, quickly putting his arm back. He got up, frowning, and found the ghost hiding in the room's vent. He stared at the ghost for a moment as she shrunk in on herself, shaking and wiping tears away as she turned away from him.

He looked around for the others.

"G-go away," Cheryl hissed, but she was sniffling and sounded frustrated.

"What happened..." Puppet asked quietly. It still upset him, what the children put everyone through. What they put Hedy through. Spring. Goldy. Everyone. But there was still a pained ache in his chest (torso, whatever) every single moment he saw them.

Cheryl cried and didn't answer as she let out a sob and quietly cried out, hiccuping.

Her sudden well of tears did not surprise Mari, but he forced himself to hold on to a bit of suspicion as he crouched down.

"Little one..."

"Stop it," she cried, not as aggressive as one of the others would be. "I hate you! You failed us just like everyone else so just...just go away."

Puppet was quiet, then sighed. "Yes, I did..." He sat down. "Tell me what's wrong?"

Cheryl moaned, sobbing. "I'm s-so tired..."

"I know. I know, little one," Mari said.

The children were stagnated. Their states forever stuck as they were when they died. Cheryl, in particular, was ready for a nap when she was killed and was always in exhausted torment, unable to sleep. Ever. She was also hungry. She had given up her cake for someone else at her own birthday party because her mother had promised her another cake for the family when they got home.

She never made it home.

Mari had read somewhere that sleep deprivation was a form of torture adults afflicted on each other in wars. Meanwhile, this little girl was constantly forced to suffer the same thing over the past fifteen years. No respite. No mercy. No rest.

He was quiet as Cheryl sniffled, already drained of tears for the night. Not for the first time, Puppet was desperate for the ability to hold the ghosts as Ruby and Hedy could. But he knew all he could do was twitch as he listened to her cries, unable to do anything.

Anything useful.

"Wait here," Puppet asked quietly. He got up to leave.

Cheryl listened to his soft footsteps receding, but didn't bother looking up or caring.

He didn't care about them anymore, so why should she care about him? He abandoned them. Just like everyone else had. Forgotten. Abandoned. Hated.

She moaned softly. So tired. It had been a long time already (long enough), but Ruby dumping all that feeling on her and the other ghosts a while ago still hurt a lot, when she barely even thought about it. So she tried not to think about it or her own pain.

Have you ever tried not thinking about something?

Time passed. She wasn't sure how much, but she heard someone come back into the room. She only jerked her head up when Puppet climbed into the vent, folding himself up to sit beside her as he pulled a box into view over his lap and set it in front of them.

"You..." Cheryl's voice was weak. "You gotta new music box?"

She knew he broke it. Trying to stop them. Why would he do that? Did he hate them more than he loved it?

"A new casing, but it's the same song," Puppet said quietly.

Cheryl sniffled. "It never works, Puppet. I can't go to sleep."

"No, but it's always helped you and the others at least pretend to sleep. That's always been something, little one," Puppet admitted. "Some peace."

"We couldn't even 'pretend' while you were gone. You left us."

Ah, there's the bitterness and hatred.

"That was out of my control," Puppet retorted.

Unlike going after Wiggy was for you. You chose that, he nearly said, but didn't. Instead, he sighed and wound up his music box, opening the lid before his limbs stiffened and he couldn't move anymore. Frozen. Vulnerable and outside the relative safety of his box. At least inside his box, he could actually move somewhat. He just couldn't leave his box if he wanted functional limbs.

Cheryl resisted for a minute, glaring at him. Eventually, her teary eyes fell, and she hesitantly curled up beside him, the vent the only solid thing for her. She passed right through Puppet's leg, and he was unable to even twitch at the feeling of ice in the wires from that limb.

They let the music play for a bit.

"Hedy hates us," Cheryl murmured, with tears in her voice as she lay curled up. That might have been the first time she said "Hedy" instead of "Wiggy."

Puppet didn't answer for a while. "I'm rather upset with you too." He saw the flinch from the little girl out of the corner of his eyes. "But I don't hate you. I really doubt Hedy really hates you either. You hurt her, and her feelings on the matter are fair."

"I didn't mean..." Cheryl trailed off.

"...What's done is done," Puppet said. "We all have to deal with the consequences of our actions, no matter what state we are in when we make them."

"You wanted to help us, Puppet," Cheryl cried.

"Yes, and if things were different. I still might have. If I actually thought closing the place or killing enough grown ups or night guards would help you now, I still would. Now, I don't know if it will make as much of a difference."

Cheryl just sobbed quietly. "Then what are we supposed to do?" she begged. "I just want to sleep..."

"I'm not sure," Puppet answered as the song wound down. He wound it up again the moment he could move.

Neither said anything as the next verse came around. Then there was a soft sound that startled the girl for a moment.

"My grandfather's clock was too large for the shelf,

So it stood ninety years on the floor;" Puppet sang quietly.

It was taller by half than the old man himself,

Though it weighed not a pennyweight more.

It was bought on the morn of the day that he was born,

And was always his treasure and pride;

But it stopp'd short — never to go again —

When the old man died.

Puppet paused as Cheryl shifted, seemingly relaxing at the old lullaby even if she didn't yet close her eyes.

Ninety years without slumbering

Tick

Tock

Tick

Tock

His life seconds numbering,

Tick

Tock

Tick

Tock

It stopp'd short — never to go again —

When the old man died...

Puppet stared at the music box, listening to its ticks beneath the tune.

In watching its pendulum swing to and fro,

Many hours had he spent while a boy;

And in childhood and manhood the clock seemed to know

And to share both his grief and his joy.

For it struck twenty-four when he entered at the door,

With a blooming and beautiful bride;

But it stopped short — never to go again —

When the old man died.

...

Ninety years without slumbering

Tick

Tock

Tick

Tock

His life seconds numbering,

Tick

Tock

Tick

Tock

It stopp'd short — never to go again —

When the old man died...

Cheryl seemed calmer now and closed her eyes.

My grandfather said that of those he could hire,

Not a servant so faithful he found;

For it wasted no time, and had but one desire —

At the close of each week to be wound.

Puppet's eyes drifted away from the girl to stare at the clock in the room outside the small vent. He resisted the urge to tense at the irony as he dutifully sang the next lines.

And it kept in its place — not a frown upon its face,

And its hands never hung by its side.

But it stopp'd short — never to go again —

When the old man died...

Puppet trailed off. That wasn't the end of the song, but it wasn't the time to sing the last verse. It was too cruel. It was time for him to go. He knew in her calm, Cheryl was going to remember she was angry with him too if he didn't leave her be soon enough. It was hard to tell when they actually wanted to be alone or not.

"You'll have rest one day. Cheryl," Puppet murmured as the tune wound down again. "I already promised that."

Cheryl grunted weakly. "But when?"

"I don't know."

"I miss my parents, Puppet…"

Puppet wasn't sure what he could say to comfort her.

"I know."

Cheryl didn't say anything as Puppet shifted out of the vent to leave. He turned around to take his music box and their eyes met.

"Do you miss yours?"

"Pardon?" He knew exactly what she meant.

"Your parents…"

He chuckled lightly. "I don't have parents, little one."

"Yeah you do…" Cheryl said quietly, looking away and sinking against the vent and closing her eyes as she wiped her nose and sniffed some tears away. "We're not that stupid. We know Purple Guy's-," she made a face, still not sure what to call him, "His dad is the guy who made you. We listen. Sometimes…"

Puppet shifted, holding his music box. He glanced away.

"Is he like…?"

"He was never like Michael," Puppet said, shaking his head and keeping as neutral a tone as possible. "I don't know where Michael got his evilness from, if anywhere. Certainly not his mother either."

"...Do you miss them?"

Puppet looked into her eyes. He tapped the vent next to her hand, the closest he could get to patting her hand or her head. "Goodnight Cheryl. Try to rest."

"Goodnight, Puppet…"

Just as Puppet was leaving, he heard a faint sad whisper from the direction of the vent.

"...I'm sorry…"

He pretended not to hear.

Cheryl didn't really want him to have heard her and he knew it.

As Puppet exited the room he stiffened and came to a stop, turning to look at the teen leaning against the wall outside.

"You know, eavesdropping is considered rude," he told her evenly.

Ruby didn't rise to the bait. She wasn't looking at him either, staring at the ground and if Puppet had to describe her he'd say she looked troubled.

"Do you think Hedy will ever forgive them?" she asked.

He was surprised enough by the question to hesitate in answering. There wasn't a snide remark about his singing or anything typical of her anywhere.

"I mean, I'm mad at them. Pissed, in fact. They screwed up. But…" she glanced back at the room and there was something soft in her eyes that he usually only saw when she was working with the kids during the day. Or Timmy. "They're kids. At the end of the day, regardless of the years, they're still kids. And I hate to see sad kids. Hedy wouldn't even look at them during the party and they worked hard on that."

"She had hope for them," he said eventually. "They betrayed that. Crushed it."

Ruby pursed her lips and looked back at him. "I don't think they crossed the line yet," she admitted. "They came close. They might have done it if the deals didn't come back. But… they didn't cross it yet." There was an uncharacteristically helpless look in her eyes. "Hedy won't hear a word of it though. I heard Benji sobbing in the room she used to put Scooby-Doo on for them."
She sighed and pushed away from the wall, running her hands through her hair restlessly. "They remind me of the kids at the orphanage," she blurted out after a moment. "A lot of them are angry. They got left there, or lost their families. They lash out and they hurt others. But we don't give up on them. Alice and Clint didn't give up on me." She swallowed hard, no doubt remembering the moment the two had burst into the pizzeria the day after she woke up from her coma. There'd been a lot of crying and hugging and scolding and Ruby had been so out of her depth it was almost amusing.

Puppet never heard her apologise as genuinely or earnestly as she did to those two that day though. Apologising for worrying them.

"We don't give up on them. We discipline the troubled kids when they act out and help them get through it." She gestured back at the room behind them. "We did the disciplining. But what about the rest?"

"...I tried," Puppet said. "But I'm neither stable, equipped, or sane enough to help them. They never had a chance with me. The Toys either."

She tilted her head in that way that eerily reminded him of Foxy and Mangle. "You seemed to do just fine in there now," she pointed out, only sincerity in her voice without a hint of ridicule. "Sometimes… sometimes it's the simple things that help. Sometimes it's just knowing that someone gives a shit about you."

Why, out of everyone, out of all the options, why was Ruby talking to him about this?

There's the discomfort.

But could he really disagree? Did he have a right to?

Ruby sighed again and looked away, not looking any more comfortable with the situation than he felt.

"Look. Hedy is… she's angry. And that's not going to change anytime soon. It's completely justified anger and I'd be concerned about her if she wasn't. But, well, who the hell else is thinking about this? Goldy is pissed off with them. Spring is scared of them. The Toys are both angry and wary of the brats and I'm not touching the topic of the kids with the Originals with a ten foot pole."

Please don't...

She gestured towards him helplessly. "We are literally the only ones who are concerned right now. And they hate me. And they've got issues with you, but less than with me. So…" she trailed off again, frustrated. And worried.

They stood in silence for a moment.

"Mending that rift is going to be our job," she said, sounding like it pained her to admit it.

Puppet grunted before he could think to shut off his voice box. "They took my promises and trusted me to enable them. I can't do that anymore. But I want them… healed. Them and Hedy. They're all broken."

Ruby gave him something that was too sharp to really be called a smile. "I think we both know a thing or two about being broken."

Puppet wasn't willing to invite her to elaborate.

She could have meant that in a number of ways.

He was sure he was more discreet about his repairs but he wasn't willing to risk asking. He narrowed his eyes and shot one more glance at the room while he walked away. He didn't look back at Ruby. But there was a disquieting understanding now.