Alright, finally! Managed to get this up, figure right when I'm looking to upload a new chapter the website takes a nosedive.
But, we're finally up and running! Back at the hospital with our toony kiddos and one tired animator. Thank you so much for reading, hope you enjoy and feel free to leave a review!
Bendy and the Ink Machine is the property of themeatly and Henry and the Ink Machine is from thelostmoongazer.
Wires:
It was a while later that Tom was startled awake by the sounds of someone gently opening the door to their room. Though the noise did rouse him the wolf did not get up, instead feigning sleep as he tried his best to peek at the intruder, trailing their progress across the room with his ears. They were definitely being plenty quiet, and from the sounds of things they hadn't woken Boris, Dewey, or Buddy.
They didn't stop at Alice or Bendy either. Instead, they were going straight for Henry. Immediately a thousand possibilities bloomed in Tom's mind. Were they fed up with waiting? Were they going to take Henry? Had something gone wrong? The machine was still beeping, but did that really mean anything?
So even though his vocal chords, and really the rest of him, hadn't quite caught up Tom tried to sit up, jolting Boris a bit and startling the man in white that had come in. He was pretty sure he recognized this one, the tan skin and short-cut brown hair seeming fairly familiar.
"Whu's goin' on?"
To Tom's eyes, the man did not look too bothered by whatever was going on, and was not leaving with Henry. Instead he looked over something on the beeping machine before answering Tom's question.
"Sorry, just checking vitals. If you have someone in this sort of a position, and if you're not sure they're going to wake up soon, you have to make sure they're being checked every so often. Keeps them from getting bed sores, among other things."
"Bed sores?"
"Injuries from lying in bed. Can damage the skin in patches, not a good thing if someone's already fragile. He did just get here, but we want to be careful given the situation."
Oh, well…that seemed fair. Though before Tom could fully calm down, he noticed that Boris had shifted around, looking over his shoulder at both the man and Henry, the lankier wolf's ears back as he took in the scene.
"Did, did he get the water he needed?" Boris asked, voice still a little rough from sleep even with his worry. It took the man a moment to cotton onto just what Boris was talking about, but he was quick to answer once he did.
"Yeah, went right through this. We'll be changing out the bag too, that way he's still getting what he needs."
The relief that went through Boris was practically something tangible, the lankier wolf slumping so much that Tom was briefly worried he'd passed out. But, thankfully, Boris straightened up, ears perking at the sounds of shifting coming from Dewey and Buddy's cot. Dewey gave a slight, sleepy mumble, eyes opening as his head turned to the side. When he spotted Tom and Boris the inkwell smiled, giving a cheered hum.
"Hi, Dewey," Boris murmured, giving a softer smile in return.
"Hi, Boris." The inkwell followed up his words by trying to sit up, briefly making the cot rattle. Buddy jolted up at the movement, the tiny toon's eyes barely open as he looked around the room.
"Aw, Bud, it's okay. C'mere, come right here," Boris hummed, holding out his arms to the minute devil. Though Buddy didn't seem to be the most coordinated at the moment, he did scramble his way over and huddled into the lankier wolf's front. The contact did ease something in Boris's face, right before he glanced over at the still silent Bendy. Tom couldn't help chancing a glance over too, it didn't seem like the little devil had moved at all throughout the night. Bendy lay as motionless as ever, the blankets pulled up to about the mid-way point of his chest, the bandage partially visible along with his equally patched up hands. Tom could just faintly see the rise and fall of the small toon's chest, but…
"Boris?" Dewey called, drawing both the lankier wolf and Tom out of the moment. Even though Boris didn't start outright weeping, it didn't escape Tom's notice that the other wolf was a little misty-eyed, even as he tried to mollify the youngest.
"'M alright, Dewey. I'm okay."
Dewey didn't look convinced, though a distraction came in the form of the man finishing his check of Henry, looking up at the toons as he prepared to leave.
"Seeing as you're all up, want me to open the curtains?"
They all were left looking between each other for a moment, it hadn't occurred to them that they could just. Do that.
"Uh, sure," Tom finally answered, watching as the man went over to the windows and pulled back the curtains. The veritable flood of light that came through left all four toons staring, Boris's and Tom's ears lowering along with Dewey's feather, Buddy's tail coiling close as they just stared at the bright square. It was definitely a sight that caught the resident nurse off guard, the man turning back and pausing at the goggle-eyed, awestruck toons.
"…You guys alright?"
This time Boris took the fore on answering, though he was still fairly captivated by the sight of the open, uncovered window.
"Y-Yeah, fine. 'S just. Wasn' allowed near the windows that much b'fore."
The man looked from them back to the window, speaking softly to the quartet.
"…You can keep the curtains open as much as you all want. Just, I wouldn't try to open the window, it's pretty hot outside and we've got the air conditioning going right now."
"Air conditioning?" Tom asked, head tilting at the unfamiliar term.
"Cooling down the room. If you open the window, it's gonna make the machine doing that work harder." The explanation was sound for the toons, Tom and Boris both nodding in understanding and both Buddy and Dewey doing their best to mimic them.
Though it was in that moment that another problem reared its head, someone's stomach giving an audible growl. The four toons looked between each other, though it seemed like the feeling of hunger was a mutual one given that another rumble sounded off barely a second later. The decidedly toony underpinnings of the moment had the resident nurse hiding a smile, even as he spoke up again.
"Can have some food brought up if you're hungry. Is there anything you typically eat?"
"Soup," Tom replied, as Boris spoke up with, "Sandwiches."
Dewey and Buddy just ended up staring between the older pair before looking back up at the nurse.
"No problem, we can do both. It'll be brought in in a moment, okay?"
"Okay," Boris hummed, watching as the man went on and out the door, the wolf unable to hide a flinch at the sound of the door locking. Though the noise was discomfiting, for a variety of reasons, the creak of Tom getting up from the cot immediately snatched up the lankier wolf's attention.
The stockier wolf's eyes were all for the window, the metal hand clanking softly as it touched the glass. Briefly Tom's eyes scanned the rooftop of the hospital, curiously roving over the different machines, and moving to the somewhat yellowy brown landscape beyond. Boris couldn't help staring a little too. From the few, small glimpses he'd been able to get, the area surrounding the studio was mostly green, and there was one larger mountain that the studio was nestled at the base of. Here there were multiple mountains, more yellow and brown landscapes than the wolf had ever seen in his life. Why wasn't this place green?
Tom jolting caught Boris's attention, the lankier wolf looking over to see Tom flinching back from his attempt to stare at the bright sun in the sky.
"You've never seen the sun b'fore, have you?" Boris asked, stiffening a little as Tom looked over to him. Though the only thing Tom did was shake his head, gaze turning pensive as he considered the windowsill.
"I only got t'see it a few times, 'cause, 'cause we were all kept inside. But I know some'a what that's called. I can help you if you like."
At first, Boris wasn't even sure that Tom thought his offer was worth considering, but he was surprised to see the rougher-looking wolf turn from the window, eyes considering Boris with both a slight sense of wariness, and a little indecisiveness. But, after a moment, Tom did nod in reply.
"I'd like that."
The gruff but surprisingly open words warmed Boris's heart, the lankier wolf's mouth forming a soft smile. He wasn't sure if he should speak again, or say anything at all, but for now he was content to let the moment be as it was.
Or at least, it would have been if the sounds of Dewey scooting his way to the foot of his cot didn't register, Boris swiveling his head around to see as the youngest toon tried to amble his way down. The sight immediately had Boris leaning away from the window, especially given that the inkwell's footing didn't look entirely sure at first. But Dewey, for all of Boris's worry, managed to get his feet on the tile floor just fine, slightly clawed toes clacking on the floor as he joined them at the window. Though before Boris could fully slip back into being a spectator, the sight of Buddy clambering carefully over the cots to get to the window had his nerves twanging. Especially considering that the comatose Bendy and Henry were very much in the minute devil's path.
But Buddy was exceedingly careful as he scooted around Bendy's legs, and then again as he eased his way over Henry's. Meeting Boris's eye, the tiny toon met the wolf's softer smile with a much smaller grin, crawling into Boris's arms and allowing himself to be picked up.
The sounds of Dewey making an awestruck noise at the sight of the world outside, and Buddy giving a soft but equally fascinated gasp, let the smile on Boris's face blossom into something a little more real. However, it dimmed a little as the thought occurred, does Bendy know anything about—
He couldn't ask Bendy. He wasn't awake.
He wasn't awake yet. He'd wake up soon.
It might've been an hour later that food arrived, and Boris could say without fear of doubt that his and Tom's words had been heard. There was a collection of about four sandwiches, one for each of them, and a small cup of beef soup per toon. Also more water, which was a good thought. Though the room left the four of them a little cramped, a small card table was able to be moved in to be at the end of Boris's and Tom's cots. They were all able to squeeze around it, Buddy sitting on Boris's lap and Tom more leaving his food and containers perched further out on the table as they ate.
The sandwiches had ham, cheese, and lettuce, Boris's tongue feeling like it was lighting up at the variation from bacon soup. Tom didn't look nearly as put off as he had last night with the candy bars, the other wolf giving a thoughtful hum before practically inhaling his own sandwich. Buddy managed to get through a little under half of his, Boris doing his best to re-wrap the food while also keeping an eye on Dewey. He'd been sure to make sure that the inkwell was being careful, wouldn't choke on his food, but there was a small, worried part of him that kept an ear out.
Maybe Boris was being just a little too paranoid, but he wanted to be sure the younger toon was taken care of. He'd…
Though the shirt was covering the mark, Boris's eyes had ended up accidentally trailing down to the inkwell's side, were the youngest toon's own scar lay. He'd more glossed over it before, when they were getting cleaned up, but a part of him very much kept it in mind. Along with the scar that ran the length of his own chest.
A faint wiggling against Boris's front drew the wolf's attention to Buddy, the smallest toon leaning against the lankier with a barely perceptible sigh. Boris found his arms automatically moving, lifting the minute devil to rest against his front, the way Bendy would, easing Buddy up just a little higher so that his chin and head could rest on Boris's shoulder.
The lankier wolf temporarily relinquished his own sandwich, making sure Buddy wasn't about to slide as the tiny toon tucked his head into Boris's neck. He could practically hold the little guy up with one hand, easily. He was pretty much doing it now. Buddy's hand wrapping around the collar of the wolf's shirt just heighted how small the toon was, and remembering the state he'd been in when Boris and Bendy had found him…
…Yeah, Buddy needed to be looked after too. Even if he could see now, the devil was just so small, it'd be so easy for someone to—
—I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU TO DIE—
"Boris?" Tom spoke up, snapping the lankier wolf out of his thoughts with a slight jolt. The stockier wolf's eyes were looking Boris over and drew Boris's attention to the fact that his hand had clenched over his other arm, pulling uncomfortably at the fur.
"'M okay," Boris replied, his voice sounding just a little too breathy to his ears. He'd need to stop that. Dewey, Buddy, heck, even Henry, Bendy, and Alice, needed him. Tom could take care of himself, kind of, but Boris still likely would have to help him navigate the outside world. Boris needed to do more, be more. He needed to be better.
"I'm okay," Boris said again, trying his best to smile though he noted that Tom, didn't look convinced. Or, at the very least, he wasn't smiling, or giving any sign that he'd done any more than heard what Boris said. There was a harrowing moment where the stockier wolf simply looked Boris up and down, before giving an utterly unreadable 'alright' and turning away.
Had, had Boris done something wrong?
The thought made something cold drop into the wolf's stomach, and it took every ounce of self-control he had not to hug Buddy tightly until that feeling went away. Buddy seemed to pick up on it anyway though, the tiny toon re-wrapping his arms around Boris's neck. A deeper, but still soft whine drew Boris's eyes to Dewey, the inkwell's eyes wide as he looked at something in the older toon's face. Dewey set his sandwich down, hands clenching and fumbling for a moment before he reached over and rested a hand on Boris's knee. He couldn't get too close without moving the table, so for the moment it was as good as a hug.
It did warm the moment, though the real relief came when Tom gently bumped shoulders with the other wolf, a slightly softer edge seeping into his expression.
"Don't worry about it. We're good for now."
And, they really were, weren't they? They weren't at the studio, they had food, there didn't seem to be any monsters in here…Even if the toons were surrounded by strangers, none of them seemed like they'd wanted to hurt them.
The rest of the meal passed in an easy sort of companionship, Boris and Tom teaching Dewey a few more words before a noise at the door caught their attention. Someone was coming in, but there appeared to be another person with them.
"You're getting them coloring books?" The other person was saying. It sounded like a man, though the somewhat skeptical bite to his tone had Boris flinching a bit.
"Yes. You can't exactly just keep a bunch of kids in there with nothing to do." That was the guy who'd helped Boris and Dewey with the showers yesterday. His name was…Lucio! That was it! But before Boris could do more than note that, the other person replied.
"Kids?"
"They certainly behave like they are. And, if anything, some stimulation that's not just staring out the window will do them some good. At the very least it won't feel like they're an exhibit in a zoo."
The other man didn't seem to have an answer to that, given that there was the distinct sound of shoes walking away from the room. Lucio opened the door, holding a stack of books close to him to keep them from falling.
"Hey, all. How's the food?"
"Hi, Lucio!" Dewey piped up, just as Boris chimed in with 'it's good'.
"Glad to hear that. We weren't quite sure what you all would like. And hello to you too."
Dewey grinned at the acknowledgement, though the inkwell's attention was grabbed by the different books that Lucio was holding.
"What is that?"
"These're coloring books. I also tried to snag some actual books, got everything from Dr. Seuss to…even a copy of Jaws. No idea who threw that one in." Lucio came over, gently setting the books down on the table with a smaller, thicker one still held in his hand, giving it a quizzical look before he set that one down too. The sight of a sharp-toothed monster on the front cover immediately made Boris's ears lower, the wolf's eyes widening before he yanked them to look away.
"C-Coloring books?"
"Yeah. You don't have to read Jaws if you don't want to." Lucio replied, reaching out and taking the aforementioned book away. "Actually, pertinent question, can all of you read?"
Buddy and Dewey's blanker looks were a pretty telling answer, though the youngest toon all but gave his lack of experience away when he looked back at the books with a softer, uncomprehending question.
"Read?"
"I can a bit. I know letters, I know how t'read signs." Tom mumbled, arms folding in front of him and his ears lowering as his eyeline moved away from Lucio. Still, Boris could tell that this was more irritation than any fear or upset, and he strove to move the moment forward.
"I, uh, I don' read well," he started, before he remembered that wasn't entirely true. "Uh, well, I read better now, but I, I like music better'n readin'."
Lucio absorbed the information in calm, open silence, though Boris still wondered if he might've said something wrong before the man actually responded.
"I'll see if we can get some music in here. Wouldn't be too hard to get some cassette decks…"
Boris nearly had a mind to ask about records, wasn't music supposed to be played on records, but he opted instead to stay quiet. Lucio didn't have to get them anything, the wolf hardly needed to be causing him trouble.
"That's fine," was all the lankier wolf said in response, trying not to sound too nervous. He must've done alright, given that Lucio left with the promise of bringing in some music. The toons were left with the coloring books, other books, and some kind of boxes that utterly baffled them at first. Boris had no idea what a 'Crayola' was. Maybe some kind of toy?
It wasn't until Tom found the lid of the box that the mystery was cleared up in short order; the boxes had art supplies! Some kind of colored…not pencils, Boris honestly wasn't sure what to call them, but they looked fun. Buddy definitely seemed to think so, the tiny toon grabbing a box and one of the coloring books. Dewey looked on with interest as Buddy began to draw all over the pages, occasionally coloring in the actual black and white shapes. Immediately the thought of Bendy enjoying these sprung to Boris's mind, the little devil had always enjoyed drawing, but the small toon's name died on Boris's lips as he remembered the situation.
Tom glanced over as Boris scooted back a little, the lankier wolf putting himself within reach of Bendy's hands. The movement got Buddy and Dewey to glance over too, though Tom covered the moment by turning the attention back to the rest of the books.
"Y'want one?"
"Uh, I, I dunno?" Boris replied, fur floofing up a little as his nerves resurfaced. "What else is there?"
"There's a book of drawin's. Oh, wait, no, there're words here. Not a lotta words though, they're weird." Tom punctuated this by putting the book, Where The Sidewalk Ends, into Boris's grasp. Boris glanced down at it curiously, letting it fall open in his hands.
There were indeed drawings, almost looking like pen sketches. Boris had vague memories of the like when he'd been allowed to sit on drawing sessions with the animators. Little warmups, Henry'd called them.
The words were equally intriguing, the shorter lines making Boris feel less nervous as he read through.
I step very softly,
I walk very slow,
I can't do a handstand— I might overflow,
So pardon the wild crazy thing I just said—
I'm just not the same since there's rain in my head.
It was an image that left Boris deep in thought, though before the wolf could grow too detached, a noise from Dewey yanked him back. The inkwell had picked up one of the other books, holding it out in his hand as he scanned the cover with wondering eyes. Boris could only see so much of it from the angle the younger toon had it at, looked like a children's storybook.
Well, he supposed it was a good start for a new toon like Dewey. Though Boris couldn't help some doubts over his ability to teach. Maybe, if Bendy had been awake…
…Well, Bendy wasn't awake, the wolf reminded himself with no small amount of sharpness, he had to step up. He had to be better.
So, even with a squeeze of nerves coiling in his stomach, Boris passed what he hoped was a calming smile to Dewey, meeting the inkwell's eye.
"Y'wanna learn how to read?"
"Read?" Dewey asked, deeper voice sounding no less awed at the very idea. Feeling a little more emboldened, Boris scooted closer, doing his best not to drop his own book.
"Sure, it's, it can be very fun." Boris briefly thought about mentioning how engrossed Bendy would get in books, but he didn't think bringing it up would be a good idea. Maybe later…
Holding out his hand for the book, Boris briefly glanced at the title, The Adventures of Robin Hood, and prepared to start.
The sun had started to sink lower in the sky, casting the long shadows of the hospital building across the landscape. The toons' lessons had seen a few interruptions, namely when some kind of machine thing had flown overhead with such a thunderous rumble that Boris was sure the thing would vibrate itself right out of the sky. They did end up getting pretty far in the book, though that might've been because Dewey was such a quick study, the inkwell easily picking up on letters and how to spell easy words. The other book, Where The Sidewalk Ends, became a good tool for easy words and easy spellings, even if Boris knew in his heart of hearts that the way the book was written was a little…
Well, he didn't want to say simple, that would've sounded too mean.
Besides, it was profound in its own way, something that the lankier wolf toon was discovering as he helped Dewey to parse through one of the shorter poems. Some of the words were on the longer or more complicated side, Boris and occasionally Tom leaning in to help the inkwell decipher what he was seeing.
"Ricky was, can you say the next letter, Dewey?"
"L?" The inkwell asked after a long moment, eyes tentatively turning to Boris with his answer. Really though, the wolf wasn't quite sure why Dewey was so nervous, at least not from a lesson standpoint. He was acing all of the letters, once he was told what they were and what they sounded like. But the part of Boris that struggled with reading perfectly understood the anxiety that came with being put on the spot like this. So he tried to be as warm and helpful as possible, nodding with a proud smile.
"Yep, that's very good, you got it right!" The praise did net an equally big grin from Dewey, the inkwell's sharper teeth on full display, though he quickly gestured back to the page as he clearly wanted to see where this went next.
"Ricky was L, but he's home with the flu," Boris read, the last word netting everyone's attention as they'd never heard the like before.
"What's a flu?" This came from Tom, the stockier wolf toon leaning in a little to look like there might be some context on the page that he could grasp. Though really, the poem was short, and the picture didn't really give many hints apart from a single person holding up a sign with the letter 'V' on it. Thankfully, Boris did have some experience of this, albeit from a more removed standpoint.
"Think flu is, it's like a cold, but worse. People get sick, but it's a really, really bad kinda sick."
"Bad sick?" Dewey asked, the youngest toon's voice more than a little frightened at what he was hearing.
"No, no, we can't get that kinda sick, Dewey, but sometimes it happens to people. They get better though, so long as they take care'a themselves. It's not all the way bad, but it's not really good either, y'get what I'm sayin'?" Boris's words definitely seemed to ease the faint terror that had taken hold, Dewey relaxing a little though he still turned a slightly worried look down at the page.
"I'm sure Ricky would'a been fine, he's just not there. Now, okay, let's do the next bit." Despite the worry from before not totally going away, Dewey nodded eagerly at the idea, Boris doing his best to carry on. "Lizzie, our…"
"O?" Dewey read, looking to Boris for confirmation to which the wolf readily nodded.
"Yep! Lizzie, our "O," had some homework to do."
"Homework?" Dewey asked in the slight pause that followed, Boris unfortunately left a little bereft of explanation for that one.
"Uh, not sure, guess that's work you do at home? Maybe somebody here knows, but we can keep readin'." Thankfully the inkwell accepted the explanation, and the promise of potentially getting a more definitive answer later on, but Boris couldn't help wondering if Dewey would blurt it out to whichever hapless person crossed his path later. Well, couldn't do much about it now…
"Mitchell," the wolf started, pointing at the next letter for Dewey to read.
"E!"
"Yep, you got it, Dewey! Mitchell, "E" prob'ly got lost on the way, so I'm all of the love that could make it today."
The last bit had Boris's ears lowering, the lankier wolf toon's mind wandering a bit as he considered them in tandem with their current situation. Briefly, he had the thought to turn just enough that he could see Bendy, maybe check up on Alice and Henry too, but the sound of his name snapped the wolf out of his daze.
Dewey had been the one to call him, the inkwell's eagerness swept away in favor of an unsure frown as he looked into Boris's face. That had the wolf wondering just what expression had been there, especially since Buddy and Tom were closely watching him too, and he buried the feeling under a wavery, nervous attempt at a warm smile.
"I'm alright, wanna read another one?"
The inkwell had been about to reply, when a knock sounded on the door, heralding the lock clicking and the doctor-lady, Dr. Sommer, coming in.
"Hello, how are you all doing?"
"We're doin' alright." Boris replied, Dewey echoing his last word and Buddy having his own input as he raised both hands in a dual thumbs-up. Tom was the only one that didn't respond, at least not right away. When it started to become apparent that everyone else was speaking up, the stockier wolf toon gave a shrug and a more taciturn response of 'fine'.
"We'll bring you dinner in a bit, I just wanted to check on…I believe his name is Henry?"
It was an odd moment where Boris felt like someone had smacked him, like he'd forgotten something and Jo-someone wanted him to know he'd messed up. Even though Dr. Sommer hadn't been the least bit recriminating with her words, he couldn't help cringing a little. The slight beeping from Henry's machine had sort of faded into the background for Boris, the wolf feeling more than a little guilty as the notion registered. What if something had gone wrong?
"It's alright," Dr. Sommer said, definitely registering the look on Boris's face as well as the canid signs of dismay, even if she didn't totally understand the reason for it. "If anything, all we'll have to do right now is change the IV bag."
"IV bag?" Boris asked, just as Tom piped up with, "The clear thing, right?"
And, given that the other wolf toon had actually pointed at what he was talking about, Boris's head immediately snapped to look. It was easy enough to spot, a simple, clear bag hanging on a metal pole next to Henry's bed. It definitely looked plenty empty, though that had Boris wondering just what had been in it. Was it the same as the ambulance, where they were giving Henry water, or was this something else?
"He's gettin' lots'a water then. That's, that's good, right?" Boris asked, ears back as he stared up at Dr. Sommer's face, trying to get some clue of what was going on. Thankfully, it didn't seem like she was bothered by it, or unwilling to explain.
"Yes, we're giving him a solution to deal with the dehydration. So, yes, he's getting the water he needs. Though I definitely want to keep tabs on his physical health right now…"
"…Is it really bad?" Boris asked, trying not to sound half as worried as he felt, and probably failing in the endeavor given that Tom immediately glanced his way. There was also a telltale shifting and whimpering from Dewey too.
Dr. Sommer, though, didn't seem outwardly worried, turning her attention to Henry and gently going through what looked like the motions of checking inside the animator's mouth and nose, even looking to the monitor beeping away.
"Well, apart from the fact that the inside of his throat still looks irritated, along with his nasal cavity, it doesn't seem like there's anything wrong. His airway is clear, he's able to breathe, his heartrate and overall circulation are good…He's just not conscious yet. He might need just a little more time."
A little more time, Boris though, trying not to feel too let down. Henry might not be awake now, but he would likely wake up soon. Just like Bendy, and Alice, they were all going to wake up soon.
They had to wake up soon…
Things sort of swam by in an odd haze, Boris more watching as the empty IV bag was exchanged for a full one, the bandage on Henry's face changed for a fresh one, his eyes also apparently needing more time to heal. Bendy and Alice underwent similar examinations, though the wolf had the feeling there was only so much that Dr. Sommer really understood when it came to the more foreign systems of the toons. Alice, at the very least, seemed slightly easier given the more human-like appearance the angel had.
Bendy was a completely different story, firstly because while Dr. Sommer, Lucio, and the other guy with tan skin and short brown hair (who Boris had just learned was called Brian and he was kind of feeling bad that that took this long) were putting on a calm front the wolf had a sinking feeling they really didn't know what to do. Secondly because of what happened as they were gently moving Bendy's arms around to change his bandages.
Boris's ears perked up at the first hint of sound from Bendy, the wolf's head turning so quickly he could have sworn he heard something pop. But the second he saw the faintest silver of the little devil's eyes in between shadowed lids it was all he could do not to completely bowl someone over in his rush to get to Bendy's side.
Thankfully he didn't have to, Brian stepped aside easily enough, letting the wolf through to stand at Bendy's bedside. For a clear moment though Boris stood there with his hands outstretched, but unsure of what to do. Bendy's front was still bandaged, as were his hands, he couldn't just be moved…
Still, Boris knew he had to do something, and instead he knelt next to the cot, gently brushing a hand over Bendy's head.
"B-Bendy?" It was just a croaky little whisper, but Bendy seemed to hear, and know who was talking. There was a faint twitch in the little devil's mouth, almost like a smile, but it slipped into a slight frown as Bendy made a barely-there whine.
"Wh-What's wrong with—What'dya need, Ben, you gotta tell me…"
"I think I can guess." Lucio's calmer tone cut through the moment, one of the water bottles in his hands as he came back around. Boris caught sight of a straw, though it didn't quite make sense until Lucio helped prop Bendy up, letting the little devil drink.
Given how fast it went, Lucio's guess had been right on the money. Bendy's eyes were barely open, but the little devil clearly tracked enough with reality to recognize he was being offered water. In between that and another bottle, Dr. Sommer was able to change the bandages on Bendy's chest and hands, check him over for any other problems. Boris didn't see any sign of any more problems; Dr. Sommer didn't seem overly worried by anything though she did frown a little as she eased Bendy back down.
"Definitely malnourished, and I'm thinking a bit dehydrated too. Hopefully the water we were able to get into him did help…"
But the words were passively registered by Boris, the wolf's ears lowering at the sight of his pal as still and silent as before.
"Bendy…?" He tried, seeming to remind Dr. Sommer, Lucio, and Brian that he was still there. Faint shiftings around him hinted at Tom, Dewey, probably Buddy too, but Boris really only had eyes for Bendy. Information trickled in, that Bendy likely needed to rest, that he was still weak…
But I want my pal back! Howled a forlorn voice from somewhere in Boris's mind. Still, their logic was ironclad, even if the wolf's emotions were screaming for something else. It wasn't until a hand landed on Boris's shoulder that he fully remembered the others, his frame jolting a bit before he turned and saw Tom there. The other wolf toon was eyeing him carefully, though before Boris could get any more wound-up Tom reached over and gently grabbed his hand from where it had been clenching at the fur on the inside of his arm.
"'Salright. He'll wake up soon." The words were somewhat gruff, the stockier wolf clearly unused to the notion of giving comfort, but he was still trying. It definitely meant a lot to Boris, who quietly sagged against the sturdier, immutable presence that Tom offered.
Even still, a part of him couldn't help hissing that you should be better, you should be better, they know less about all this, you should be the one being there for them…
Thankfully a distraction came in the form of dinner, which looked like it was going to be more soups and sandwiches, but Dr. Sommer didn't leave just yet.
"I'll let you get to that, just wanted to mention something. It seems like Bendy and Alice are both dehydrated, and ordinarily I would be giving them IVs just like Henry's, but I will need to be sure of how best to, to use them. If it's done wrong, it can cause more problems."
The silence afterwards was a little yawning, Boris belatedly realizing that he should be saying something.
"Oh-okay."
"If it's any consolation, the water we did manage to get into Bendy likely helped, and Henry will be alright with the new bag. I'll check some things and see if there is more than can be done. And, actually, I probably should show you something else before I leave for the night."
The words were punctuated by a gesture that Dr. Sommer made in the direction of Henry's bed, the toons confusedly, and in the case of Tom, suspiciously, following her motions.
"There's a button back here that will call someone to your room. Usually there is someone out on the floor who will hear you if you call, but this will definitely get someone's attention, especially if it's an emergency." Moving around Bendy's cot, Dr. Sommer drew out the aforementioned button, making sure the quartet could see it. "If Bendy wakes up again, or Henry, or Alice, then push this. We'll be able to get to them as quickly as possible. If there is any other trouble at all, or if any of you need something, then you can use it too."
It was definitely something that made Boris feel a little safer, a small, relieved smile taking root over the wolf's muzzle as he nodded in reply. Dr. Sommer stayed for a few more minutes, mostly making sure that the toons were 'settling in' okay before leaving them to their dinner of soup and sandwiches. This time Boris recognized turkey meat and…some other kind of cheese that still tasted pretty good, if he was to be any judge. The soup though brought a somewhat hazy blast from the past for the wolf, given that the last time he'd had chicken soup had been—
—Even though it had been hours since he'd last thrown up, Boris couldn't help shrinking away at the sight of the bowl in Sammy's hand. Despite the fact that this was Sammy and the soup definitely smelled good, the wolf couldn't help remembering the utterly nightmarish experience he'd had last night and shied away from the food.
"C-Can I maybe eat that later?"
Though Sammy frowned a little, it was quickly buried under a wryer grin as he set the bowl down.
"Well, if I had any doubts you weren't feeling well before…" The words were punctuated by a friendly tousle around the wolf's ears, Boris briefly smiling at the gesture before it ended all too quickly. Sammy drew back, passing a more meditative look at the lightly steaming bowl of chicken broth.
"How about just a little bit, kid? You don't have to eat the whole thing, promise."
The words were sound, though Boris still found himself weighing the options. The soup smelled good, and despite the ordeal he'd been through the wolf could still feel a pang or two of hunger rattling his insides. Still, he didn't want to throw up again, that'd been horrible.
Not to mention how badly it had impacted Bendy…
Though the reminder of the little devil immediately brought to mind what Boris had heard, that Bendy was so weak because the sickness had taken so much out of his system. He was currently on small doses of ink, getting his strength back.
And Boris wanted to help. But to help, he'd need to get his own strength back. And to do that, he needed to eat.
So, sitting up with a tired sigh, the wolf acquiesced and let the music director give him the small bowl of chicken broth. At first Boris's immediate thought was to get it down as quickly as possible, but Sammy stepped in once he worked out what the wolf was going to do, urging him to take things slower. Still it wasn't long before the small bowl was empty, Sammy setting it to the side and letting Boris slip back under the covers of his cot.
Even though the wolf was fading, he couldn't help wanting to know about Bendy, and Henry too, it had been a while since he'd seen him.
"Sammy," Boris started, even as his eyes were half-closed with tiredness. "Are Bendy 'n Henry okay?"
Sammy's facial features didn't give away much, maybe a slight bit of surprise before it melted into a more minute fondness, the music director gruffly fixing the blankets around the wolf's shoulders.
"They're fine, kid. They're both fine. Henry should be in to see you when you wake up, and from what he's told me Bendy's recovering alright, he just needs to rest. You'll be running around this crazy place again before you know it."
The words came with that reserved but blunt edge that Sammy always seemed to have, one that was more off-putting for newcomers to the music department but Boris took refuge in it. If there was something wrong, Sammy would've told him. The wolf wouldn't be lied to or kept in the dark. Even though there'd been whispers about keeping stressful things away from the toons while they were recovering, the honesty was infinitely more comforting, Boris smiling to himself as he slipped off to sleep. —
—The meal finished up with little to no fanfare, Boris more or less inferring from the fading sunlight outside that it was time to head to bed. Briefly, he wondered if they should use the call button to be let out for the bathroom before Lucio came in with a new lesson for Dewey and Buddy, toothbrushes.
Thankfully getting cleaned up and ready for bed wasn't as harrowing this time around, the toons still going in pairs to the bathroom. Dewey had been a little leery of the concept of toothpaste, especially when Boris mentioned that it was 'bad' to swallow it, but the wolf hurriedly clarified that that meant that the inkwell shouldn't try to eat it. It wasn't food, he should make sure to spit it out, but it would be okay if he swallowed a bit while he was brushing his teeth.
Tom and Buddy had gone next, Boris almost curious about if the stockier wolf had the same difficulties but he didn't feel it was important enough to ask.
Going to bed found Boris in a similar place as he had been for much of the evening: lying on his cot facing Bendy, eyes quietly watching the little devil's face. The wolf wasn't sure what he was looking for, it was already pretty clear that Bendy wasn't going to just wake up. After a moment of shoring up his nerves, Boris gingerly reached over, carefully taking one of the smaller toon's bandaged hands in his own. The feeling of a pulse thudding in the little devil's wrist was a relief, reminding Boris that, above all, his pal was still in there.
Bendy just needed to rest. He'd be okay then, and he'd wake up. They'd all be okay.
Boris had nearly fallen asleep when he felt Tom roughly tuck the sheets over his shoulder, properly burying the lankier wolf toon under the blanket. Despite the brusqueness of the gesture, it was done with enough care that it made a bubble of secure warmth. The feeling lulled Boris the rest of the way to sleep, even with Bendy's limp hand held carefully in his own.
The next morning began relatively early for Boris, given that he'd started awake with a gasp, staring around the room for a moment before where he was properly registered. With a soft sigh, the wolf sank back onto his cot, the soft material under and around him nearly lulling enough to chase him to slumber.
Nearly, if it weren't for the fact that his nightmare had involved falling. And tools. And a certain warped angel. And Joey.
Needless to say, Boris did not feel like going back to sleep anytime soon. Instead he sat up, doing his best not to disturb the others as he scooted down to the end of his cot. Shivering at the feeling of cold tile against his feet Boris glanced back at the others, letting out a softer sigh of relief at the fact that they were all still sleeping.
But that left him wondering just what to do to kill the time. They did still have the books, the Crayons, some paper that Buddy hadn't done anything with yet, but he wasn't sure he could really do much of anything without either making noise or needing to turn on the lights.
Even though it was still somewhat dark, there was a hazy blue color to the sky, the sight drawing Boris back to the window. The wolf's eyes roved over the buildings he could see, the more brown landscape, the mountains, more glancing over it than really taking it in.
It still felt like a far cry from what he knew, but the fact that it was still there felt somewhat miraculous given where he'd been the past few days. It was also somewhat liberating just to be able to look out of the window at all, given how against it…
Boris sighed, fighting a shiver at the name as it ran through his mind. Joey had been very against them being able to see the outside, the few times Henry and Sammy took him, Bendy, and Alice out on the roof to see the stars feeling like some sort of closely guarded secret. It was something that they all knew, instinctively, that they were not to mention.
Though that reminded Boris of Henry, the wolf glancing directly to his left and seeing the animator, still very much unconscious. The monitor was still beeping away, the noise soft but now that Boris had noticed it felt all the more prevalent.
But, if that was going, then that was a good thing, right? It meant Henry was okay. He'd wake up soon, just like Bendy. Just like Alice.
They had to wake up soon, right?
Because if they didn't, it would be your—
The thoughts were bringing a cloudy haze to Boris's vision, the wolf blinking hard as he tried to refocus on the scenery outside. It still looked the same as it did a moment ago, dark and brown with so many fading stars spiraling overhead.
Briefly the thought came to mind to ask if Bendy knew anything about this place, had he maybe been here before, but given the situation the wolf hurriedly pushed that thought to the far corner of his mind. Though that was really the problem, he couldn't really get away from it here.
Even with a whole window, this one little room was already feeling much too small.
That thought made Boris turn, sliding down to sit under the window as he huddled in on himself, resting his head on his knees. He didn't move for a good few minutes, the clacking of someone's footsteps making him jolt a bit.
Their owner pushed by in silence though, the wolf nearly thinking he was in the clear before his ears caught an odd rustle coming from the cots. Pushing himself to stand, Boris was briefly confused as to who was making the noise, before a small blob of motion caught his attention.
He waved to Buddy, the tiny toon waving back as the wolf came to crouch next to the cots, doing his best to look the minute devil in the eye.
"Hey, Bud, whatcha doin' up?" He'd tried his best to keep his voice low, but his already deeper tones felt far too loud in the yawning quiet, the wolf wincing a little in the aftermath. Still, Buddy hardly looked bothered, the tiny toon instead patting the cot like he was trying to invite Boris to sit down. The friendly gesture did get a smile from the wolf in question, though when Buddy's response to him sitting on the cot was to crawl into his lap and throw his arms around Boris in a hug, well, that good feeling quickly melted into a thornier worry.
"You have a nightmare, Bud?"
Buddy didn't exactly nod, but Boris could feel the tiny toon's hands tightening on his shirt, the minute frame huddling as close as it could be. Even though his ears lowered, Boris tried to force a lighter tone into his voice, scooting back to lie on his cot with Buddy held to him.
"Well…well you don't gotta worry 'bout that nightmare no more, Bud. I'm here, okay? You're safe."
Boris liked to think that what he said helped a little. If anything it seemed like Buddy's grip had become slightly less desperate. Still, while he didn't want to go back to sleep, he definitely wasn't about to leave the tiny toon to deal with his nightmares alone.
They didn't stay awake for more than a few minutes, Buddy falling just as dead asleep as Boris while the wolf curled protectively around him. It seemed like only seconds later that a thumping clonk and the sound of the door opening made the wolf sit bolt upright, a barely awake Buddy flopping around in his grip as Boris's half-awake brain tried to figure out what was going on.
Dewey had just gotten out of bed, Tom already up from the looks of things, and Lucio had just come in with what seemed like a small round of sandwiches for breakfast.
"Good morning, hope you all slept well." Lucio greeted, Dewey giving a more enthusiastic 'yes' while Boris's was a little more muted given he'd been a bit more preoccupied with rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Gotcha some egg salad sandwiches today, though I actually wanted to ask, have any of you all ever tried any food other than soups and sandwiches?"
There was a pause, during which Boris realized he was probably the best equipped to answer that one given that he, Bendy, and Alice had had a little more culinary experience in their lives, at least when the studio had been running. Besides, Boris did have a pretty focal memory in mind when he replied, even as he remembered what Jo-some folks had said about the toons' food intake…
"Uh, th-there was all kinda stuff durin' the holidays, but that was expensive…"
"What kinda stuff are we talking about? Maybe we can get you all some variety in here."
Variety would probably be good, as while soup and sandwiches were nice, it was going to start falling in the same category as the room they were in if the toons were forced to rely on it too much. And Boris knew there was more out there.
"Uh, tried steak one time, it was really good, there was a lotta, lotta vegetables, an'…Oh! We had spaghetti once!"
If anything Lucio now looked vaguely amused at the somewhat stilted explanation, though Boris hoped it was a good kind of funny and not the bad kind.
"So you all can eat really anything, can't you?"
"…Yeah, I think so. Henry got real worried when I had candy one time. I was fine though."
Lucio seemed to think for a moment before he replied to that.
"Was it chocolate?"
"Mhm, how'd you know?" Boris asked, head tilting in bemusement.
"Ah, just a lucky guess." The words were quickly spoken before Boris could put any weight on them, the conversation quickly moving back to the original topic. "Alright, so hopefully by the lunch we'll have something a little more new for you. Did you like the books, by the way?"
"Yep!" Dewey replied, Boris more than glad to hear that seeing as it meant that the reading lessons hadn't been a bust after all.
"Good, we'll see if we can get you something else. Maybe some movies or something, if we can get a TV in here…"
That was definitely interesting, even if Boris had barely any idea of what a TV was. It was almost sounding like a smaller version of the theater room in the studio, and though the comparison wasn't exactly a happy one, the wolf was hungry for something new. Though he didn't get the time to ask Lucio any more questions before he left, the man's time more or less being taken up with making sure Henry's IV was okay. Apparently it hadn't emptied out quite so fast this time, Boris remembering how it had needed to be replaced first thing in the morning yesterday. Hopefully that meant that the animator was doing better…
All thoughts regarding that were quickly swept out by the presence of the food, Boris curiously sampling the egg salad sandwiches and finding that, well, while it wasn't steak, it wasn't the worst thing he'd ever had. At the very least, it didn't take any of them long to finish, though the lankier wolf toon ended up being a bit stymied as he caught Tom staring at him with a look that maybe could have been openly laughing if the other wolf were willing to put in the effort.
"Wh-What's wrong?"
"Your fur's all mussed…" Came the somewhat sniggered reply, Boris reaching up to try to feel where exactly the mess was. It was probably on the side he'd slept on, but without a mirror he was kind of at a loss. Tom watched him fumble for a second before gesturing for Boris to slide over, wetting his normal hand on some of the dregs of someone's water. Buddy and Dewey had gravitated off to the stack of books on a nearby table, leaving the pair relatively alone for a few minutes as Tom worked to tame the wilder style Boris's fur had decided to lopsidedly adopt.
Even though the moment had initially started out funny, the humor faded a bit as Tom took in the still-tired look to Boris's face, and the start of some dark circles under the lankier wolf toon's eyes. So, trying to go for an undertone to avoid alerting the younger toons, he asked a question.
"How're you feelin'?"
"I'm okay." Came the quick, if somewhat tiredly drawled reply, before Boris's eyeline drifted in the direction of their still silent roommates. "Y'think they'll wake up soon?"
"They might need some more water 'n rest b'fore they can do that. We're just gonna have to wait." Tom said, and while the words were sound on their face, he knew that if he were hearing them from someone else he wouldn't be nearly so pacified. Not that Boris even tried to fight him any, the lankier wolf toon just worriedly frowning as he looked down at the stretch of cot in between them.
"Right…waitin'…"
Tom didn't seem to have much of an answer for that one, apart from giving a sigh that echoed the same sort of weariness with the whole situation and reaching up with his ink and flesh hand to tousle the fur around Boris's ears. The gesture nearly caught the lankier wolf toon off-guard, but when he registered what was happening he couldn't help feeling somewhat less lonely.
Lunch came probably a bit quicker than the toons thought it would, the quartet a little surprised when it had been a different nurse, not Lucio, but a lady they didn't know, dropping off the food. She also didn't stay to chat, leaving them a little nonplussed and with a meal that looked like it was going to be another round of soup and sandwiches.
"I thought we were gonna get somethin' new…" Tom murmured, ears back as he considered their lunch, bologna and cheese with what looked like more chicken broth. Boris, who had just managed to ease Dewey away from the Robin Hood book to eat, gave the whole thing a much less discerning eye as he thought it over.
"Maybe they weren't able t'do it. Like that whole thing with the, with the TV."
Because sometimes that happened, the lankier wolf toon had learned when it came to promises. While it was always good to try keeping your promises, sometimes it would be too difficult or something would come up. Besides, they didn't have to keep feeding them at all, Boris was happy that they had regular food now more than anything. So, leaving Tom to get Dewey settled in, he turned his attention to Buddy, the tiny toon still scribbling away at some new Crayola-made masterpiece in the corner. Still, Boris couldn't help turning back around, snagging one of the sandwiches that hadn't been eaten yet and taking a few bites.
Same old or not, he was hungry. Even if the bologna and cheese had a weird, salty taste to it…
"Hey, Bud, time t'eat." Boris tried, Buddy's motions growing more frantic as he tried to add a few last-minute details to his picture. "It's okay, Bud, you can keep drawin' when you're done—"
"Dewey?" Tom suddenly spoke up, the tight worry in the other wolf's voice immediately getting Boris's attention. Grabbing Buddy, he hurried to stand, shaking off a brief dizzy spell as he hurried back over.
At first glance, there wasn't anything wrong with Dewey, apart from the fact that the youngest toon was practically asleep sitting up. Tom was also having a hard time snapping him out of whatever had taken hold, the stockier wolf toon coming just shy of slapping the inkwell with his efforts. But, even still, it didn't seem to be working. Dewey would jolt, eyes fluttering before he slid back under again, and it wasn't long before Tom had to ease the bigger toon onto his back given that he was starting to topple over.
Boris had been about to ask questions but he noticed a dazed sort of grogginess start to take hold in Tom's eyes, the other wolf shaking his head in a fruitless attempt to dispel it.
"Boris, somethin's…" A hard blink, and Tom tried again. "Somethin's wrong…"
"Wh-Wha—?" The lankier wolf toon asked, before realizing that that likely wasn't going to help. "What d'ya need me to—?"
"Get, help…" Tom growled out, right before the same stupor took hold and the one-armed wolf started to topple sideways. Thankfully Boris was able to catch him before he hit the floor, but it was about then that the wolf was starting to notice the dizziness coming back, and much stronger this time too. Panic started to seep through Boris's ink even as darkness began to swim at the edges of his vision. Something was wrong, was he sick, was he…changing again? He-He needed help…he needed help…
Even as Boris stumbled his way across the room to Henry's bed, he tried to call the man's name even though his tongue felt heavy and uncooperative, the sound coming out as nothing more than a garble of noise. Just as he collapsed, his fingers found the call button and shakily pressed it.
At the thud, a silent yelp of fright contorted Buddy's features, the tiny toon racing over to pat the wolf's face, trying desperately to rouse him. The devil was so caught up in the panic of the moment that he nearly missed a faint clatter in the hallway, had it not been for some instinct catching his ear just in time.
Nary a second later the door opened, a younger man poking his head in and, not seeing anyone awake, quietly stepped in and peered about. Catching sight of one of Boris's feet, he came around to see the wolf on the floor next to Henry's bed. After nudging the tall frame with his foot and getting no reaction, he immediately went back to the door.
"It's out, c'mon."
"You're sure?" His partner asked, glancing about as he came in. The first man nodded, pushing his brown bangs out of his eyes.
"Yeah. See, over there?" The second man's eyes lit first on the exposed foot, coming around entirely to see the prone toon. He knelt, hesitating a moment before pressing a hand first to the wolf's neck and then to the center of his chest. The feeling of a pulse against his fingers eased some of the tension, though as the first man stared incredulously the second began to drag the comatose toon out from the nook he'd fallen in.
"What're you starin' at? You think people aren't gonna notice that he's passed out on the floor?" Catching what his associate was implying, the first man hurried over, helping the second drag Boris out and roughly place him on the open cot. That done, the pair turned to their real target, the still-very-much unconscious Bendy. The second man carefully lifted the covers off enough to expose the bandage still plastered to the little devil's chest, glancing about at the other members of the room just to be sure that no one was going to surprise them. His eyes paused at the sight of the still very visible scarring on Henry, impassive expression slipping as he took in the extensive, painful looking cracks in the former animator's skin.
"Poor bastard…" He muttered, looking back to his work just in time to see the first man nudging Bendy's neckless head to the side with a finger.
"You see this? Weird stuff."
"Stop clowning, let's just get this done."
Fingers in careful motion, the second man peeled the bandage off the inky skin, relieved when the wound didn't spurt or grow worse with the open air. There was an edge of wetness to the raised lines, though the man didn't really seem too perturbed as he took out a small camera, snapping a few pictures of the forming scar from a few angles to demonstrate the look and position of the mark on the little devil's chest. He then replaced the bandage with a new one, and put the old into a medical waste bag which he then put in his pocket. The next task was easier said than done, given that while they both knew how to take blood from a human the little toon in front of them had neither visible veins nor any of the familiar musculature that would hint at where exactly to put in a needle.
And, before they could figure out a workaround, the sound of heels clacking in the hallway caught the pair's attention, the source stopping at the door and quickly heading inside.
They'd drawn away from Bendy, trying their hardest not to look too incriminating but it still wasn't the most innocent image for Dr. Sommer to see when she got her first look at the room.
There was an instance where the two parties stared at each other, right before the stand-off was broken by Dr. Sommer, who gave a picture-perfect smile as she addressed the pair.
"Hello, I wasn't aware we had any other nurses working with this group. Did you just start today?"
"Ah, yes, but we're," the younger man started, the older jumping in when he realized his partner was floundering.
"We've heard that there's been some difficulties with this group, and we were called in to help with their care."
"Well, apart from some malnutrition and dehydration, they've been recovering well, if at a slower pace. Were you here to run some tests, or…?" Dr. Sommer trailed off, eyebrows raised as she invited one of the pair to explain.
"No, we were mostly trying to get an idea of what we would be working with." The older man spoke up again, tone neutral as he fielded the conversation.
"You would probably do that a little better when they're awake. Perhaps I could let you know when they are and you can work with them then." The first start of a bite in the dialogue had the pair collectively decide it was time to cut their losses and leave. Besides, they had at least part of what they'd come for…
"That would work for us, thank you." The younger one had been the one to speak up this time, but the pair had started to edge towards the door, not that Dr. Sommer minded. Her attention had moved to Boris, the wolf lying with an arm hanging off the side of his cot. As she lifted the limb back up, she couldn't help noticing that there was an inky flush climbing in Boris's features.
"Did you happen to notice if he had a fever when you came in?" She asked, the back of her hand resting against Boris's head, her eyes darkening at the sight of a bruise forming on the left side of the toon's face. A look passed between the pair before the second man spoke up.
"No, we didn't see that, is there anything we can do to help?"
"If you could send one of the nurses in with some icepacks, that would be wonderful."
Dr. Sommer watched them go with a politely impassive air, though that faded to a cold stare the moment the door clicked shut behind them.
"Do they think I'm an idiot or just willfully blind…" She murmured to herself, before a whimper caught her attention. The source was not Boris though, her eyes going to Dewey as the inkwell slowly came to. For the youngest toon, waking up was alerting him to a variety of very unpleasant sensations. Namely that his head hurt, his stomach felt…funny, and he was somehow feeling hot and cold all at once. As his eyes blinked open, Dewey tried to get rid of the feelings by scrabbling at his front. Not that it really helped, but given that the strategy was all the inkwell had he was about to do the same to his aching head, right before Dr. Sommer was able to take the ailing toon's hands.
"Shh, shh, it's alright, Dewey. Try not to move so much, okay?"
"Okay," the inkwell whimpered, eyes tearing as he let his arms fall back to his sides. "Bad, why?"
"I think you just got a little sick, sweetheart." Dr. Sommer did her best to soothe, taking out a small tissue to wipe at the inkwell's eyes and face. There was definitely a bit of a temperature radiating from the youngest toon, and a slight clamminess that reminded her of condensation on a glass. It was, in a strange way, fascinating, but for the moment the main concern was for Dewey's well-being. At the words from her, particularly the mention of sickness, the inkwell's features became even more apprehensive, eyes going wide as he looked up at her.
"W-We got the f-flu? We got bad sick?"
It didn't take Dr. Sommer long to realize her mistake, her voice pitched low as she tried her best to calm Dewey.
"Oh, oh no, you don't. You should be feeling better soon. But let me know if you don't, okay? Because, if and when you're sick, you talk to a doctor, they'll help you feel better."
Even though her words were partially a guess, there were little hints in the room that told her what had happened. In small ways. Like the fact that there were still sandwiches on the table, one uneaten and another that had been bitten into. Or the fact that Boris and Tom looked to be in the same condition as Dewey, just unconscious. That would probably need to be looked into, but her reassurances had eased Dewey's mind. The inkwell's panicked expression had eased into an understanding smile,
"Like you? Dr. Sommer?"
"Yes, exactly. Can you tell me how you're feeling now?"
The inkwell's face grew mired at the question, frowning at the refocusing on the malady even as he tried to parse through it. Finally, after a moment or two of thinking, he gave his report.
"All tired, but no sleeping. Hurts."
"Can you tell me where it hurts?"
"Up here. In here an' here too," Dewey replied, his eyes closed as he pointed first to his head, then his stomach, and finally sweeping over his limbs. Honestly, from Dr. Sommer's experience with illnesses, that did sound remarkably similar to the flu…
"Okay, so you're a little achy all over, right?"
"Mhm, achy all over." The inkwell confirmed, dull eyes opening to look up at Dr. Sommer.
"Okay. You feel a little warm to me, we'll get you some water to start and see where to go from there. Water is always good when you're sick, it helps wash out the bad stuff."
"Makes you clean." Dewey replied, a small but entirely heartfelt smile on his face.
"Yeah, and all better." Dr. Sommer nodded. "Just lie there for a bit and we'll get you that water, okay?"
"Okay."
The first thing she did after that was go for the call button, and in the interim, check Boris and Tom over. Both wolves were definitely running moderately high temperatures, but their airways were clear, if not a little congested. It almost seemed like their immune systems were reacting to this in the same way a human's would in the case of a virus.
So then it would have to run its course, right?
Even though Dr. Sommer knew it was more of a guess on her part, she had a feeling that it was correct. Dewey had woken up, after all, and a quick glance over to him proved he was still cognizant. The inkwell was, in fact, watching her efforts to check in on the wolves, a quick smile from her mollifying any worry.
Lucio arrived barely an instant later, Dr. Sommer passing on a request for water and ice packs, as well as getting rid of the apparently tainted sandwiches. As he left, a faint rustle from the far back of the room caught Dr. Sommer's ears. It was hard to tell given that the cots were packed in so tightly, but she swore she caught sight of a small patch of black moving about underneath them.
Well, she had been wondering where the smallest toon was…
"Buddy?" She called, doing her best to kneel next to the cots in a way that she hoped would be nonthreatening. She didn't outright see the tiny toon, but she had a feeling he could hear her. "It's alright, sweetheart, they're gone. You can come out now, if you want."
"Buddy…" Dewey whined, that seeming to do the trick as the minute devil more or less appeared at the foot of the inkwell's cot. Though, despite his drive, the gap between the actual cot and the floor seemed like a little much for the tiny toon to properly climb. Dr. Sommer watched as he looked around, trying to find a way up, before those wide blue eyes spotted her and Buddy froze. Even still, she tried to keep as calm and comforting a demeanor as she could, giving the minute devil a small smile.
"I can help you up, if you like."
Buddy visibly weighed the idea, looking between her and Dewey's cot before he gave a small nod, tentatively reaching out and allowing himself to be picked up. He flinched a little as he was touched, Dr. Sommer keeping her movements gentle and the contact relatively quick as she set him down by Dewey's feet. Immediately she noticed that there was now a layer of dust covering the tiny toon's oversized shirt, but getting him clean could wait. Especially since Buddy was practically in motion from the minute he touched the blankets, scurrying to be right next to Dewey's head.
There was a quiet sort of exchange, Dewey giving a tired but relieved smile as his head flopped in Buddy's direction, Buddy doing his best to throw his arms around the inkwell's head in a hug.
A faint knock at the door got everyone's attention, though the only person on the other side was Lucio, who brought with him the water and ice packs.
"So, how did this happen? 'Cause they all seemed fine this morning. Could understand one getting sick, but three?" He asked, his voice low but given the lack of noise in the room it probably wouldn't be hard for the toons to overhear.
"I think we'll be needing to have a talk with Sally. There might've been some confusion about our last report." Was all Dr. Sommer felt comfortable offering, though as she brought water over to Dewey she couldn't help noticing how Buddy had straightened a bit at her words, the tiny toon glancing over in Bendy's direction.
Following his line of sight, Dr. Sommer now saw a part of the puzzle she hadn't noticed before. Bendy's blankets had been moved around, the small toon's chest left partially uncovered. It also looked like the bandage there might have been changed, something Dr. Sommer was sure she would have at least heard about.
"Buddy, can I ask you something?"
The tiny toon jolted at being put on the spot, though he did nod.
"The men who were in here before, did you see what they were doing?"
Buddy quickly nodded, pointing at Boris and miming lifting something heavy. Then he pointed to Bendy, going through the motions of pulling something away and putting it in what might've been a bag. His next motion was a little concerning, Dr. Sommer easily reading the familiar movement of pulling out a syringe and getting it ready to inject.
"Did they give him a shot?" Lucio asked, Buddy shaking his head and pointing to Dr. Sommer.
"I stopped them?"
Buddy nodded at her words, huddling closer to Dewey as the attention seemed to be getting to him.
"Thank you. And I'm sorry this happened. It won't happen again."
It didn't quite look like her words were believed, though Buddy didn't outright contradict her. Dewey appeared a lot more trusting, though the real test would be proving to them that they were safe here.
Though, apart from making sure a talk was had, there wasn't much that could be done in the meantime. So, both she and Lucio busied themselves with distributing the water and ice packs, something that Dewey was happy for. However, as Lucio set an ice pack on Tom's head, the stockier wolf flinched, a hand coming up to push it away.
"Had a feeling you weren't actually asleep. That's supposed to help bring down your fever, by the way."
"Why do I have a fever." Tom graveled out, voice somewhat hoarse but no less ironclad in its displeasure for the whole ordeal. The glare he turned up at Lucio might've been somewhat harrowing, but the nurse met it with an equal calm.
"Don't know exactly why, but someone is definitely gonna get an earful. As far as I know, you were all supposed to be left alone."
Tom didn't look like he quite believed that, though given his poor health the wolf could hardly do much apart from settling in and putting the ice pack back on his forehead. He nearly turned his nose up at the water, though when Lucio drank a little himself it swayed him on the matter.
Though, given that Lucio had the more reticent wolf toon in hand, it left Dr. Sommer with the task of, firstly, checking Bendy over to make sure nothing more had been done to the little devil, and then making certain that Boris was alright. A closer look revealed that what Buddy had 'said' was likely true; the most the men had been able to do was take the small toon's bandages, changing them out for a fresh set. Refixing the blankets, Dr. Sommer then moved her attention's over to Boris, re-checking his temperature before applying the last ice pack to the lankier wolf's head, moreso over his bruised face.
The sudden cold jolted some life back into the canid toon, Boris giving a soft groan as he came to. Dr. Sommer watched as his eyes fluttered, mentally preparing herself for another round of explanations and reassurances.
What she did not expect was for Boris's eyes to go from groggy to fearful in the span of a few moments, looking up at her but not really seeming to see her. The taller toon's breathing went from slow to gasping, panic overwriting the earlier exhaustion.
"J-Joey don' please-!" The rushed stream of words was joined the rest of Boris shaking like a leaf, his limbs moving in uncoordinated jerks and twitches as he tried to move away. Immediately Dr. Sommer reached out to stop him, worried that the wolf might end up falling and hurting himself worse, though she couldn't help but wince at how Boris went stiff as a board once her hands wrapped around his left arm.
"Boris, Boris, it's alright." A pause, before she asked him a question. "Do you know who I am, Boris?"
Though the toon still seemed rattled, her words appeared to shake loose some calm. A few, slow blinks, and Boris answered, voice still a little wobbly.
"M-Miss Sommer?"
"That's right. How're you feeling, Boris?"
"…Mouth feels weird. Why-What's wi' th' ice?" The latter question was asked as Boris noticed the ice pack that had slipped off his head.
"You're running a bit of a fever. I can get you some water if you'd like?" Though the wolf seemed to cotton onto the idea, his expression clouded over as he remembered something.
"Was th' food bad? Tasted a lil' funny, bu' not bad…"
"Yes, it does seem like there has been a major mistake, and I'm sorry that this happened. But, I'll tell you what…" Dr. Sommer started, keeping a calm, open smile on her face for the wolf to see. "…if you happen to notice something off about any food you or the others get, you can let me know and I'll get you something else. All you need to do is ask."
"C-Can y'get us ink?" Boris asked, the question making both Lucio and Dr. Sommer pause.
"What kind of ink were you thinking of?" Lucio asked, his voice drawing the wolf's attention across the room as he replied.
"Like, like writin' ink, the kind y'get from inkwells. We can drink it an' it helps us get better if we're sick or hurt."
"So for you, it's like medicine." Dr. Sommer thought aloud, Boris nodding at the comparison. "Alright, we'll try to get you some. In the meantime, we do have water if you'd like it."
"Yes please."
Once that was done, the toons were left alone, Dr. Sommer reiterating her earlier instructions about the call button and made sure that Boris was keeping the ice over his bruise. The whole incident may have been a good lesson about why the button was important, but given that the majority of the group was slightly delirious it probably was a good idea to make sure they remembered. As she and Lucio left, they couldn't help discussing what they'd learned amongst themselves.
"Where do you think we'll find that much ink?" Lucio asked.
"We can probably scrounge some up from somewhere. People still use inkwells. I'm a little more surprised that ink is a medicinal substance for them. Typically, you try to make sure people don't drink that." Dr. Sommer replied, half business and half more on the joking side. In this profession you had to have a little bit of humor, she thought to herself.
"Given Red's physiology, that's not the most out there in terms of requests." Lucio pointed out, before he thought of something. "Think we oughta try one inkwell for each, or get more than that?"
"It might be good to have some extras on hand, in case anyone needs it."
Though the pair's initial thought had been that the toons were asleep, Buddy had lifted his head up at the quieter talking, the tiny toon blinking before settling back down. The majority of the words were ones that he didn't understand, he certainly didn't know who Red was. But, it did seem like they would be getting the ink they needed. That was all that mattered right now, as far as Buddy was concerned. The tiny devil put the matter and himself to bed by settling in next to Dewey's head, falling into a light doze.
By the time Tom woke up, he could say that he felt a little better. True, there was still a clamminess clinging to his limbs, making the blankets a little uncomfortable, but the overall temperature of the room felt just a little too chilly for him to try getting up. However, the memory of the others, Boris, Dewey, Buddy, kept him from sliding back under. They'd been hurt, he had to know what was going on. Gingerly lifting his head off the pillow, his worries were somewhat put to rest as he glanced to either side and quickly spotted the other toons. No one had been moved, even Bendy, Henry, and Alice looked to be in their spots, though Tom couldn't help reaching over with his ink and flesh arm and checking Boris's and Dewey's temperatures.
Still a little warm…
Though as the stockier wolf toon checked Boris's temperature, the other wolf gave a slight cough, eyes fluttering open as he turned to look in Tom's direction. The sight of a puffy-looking bruise marring up the other half of the Boris's face did get Tom's attention, but he tried to stow his immediate anger at the sight even as he also promised himself he would be finding out just how that got there. Though the lankier wolf did throw a look in Bendy's direction, just to confirm that the little devil was still very much present, he scooted closer to Tom.
Though at the reminder, Tom also couldn't help a brief glance in Bendy's direction, even as he quietly decided that he wouldn't tell Boris what he'd overheard earlier when Buddy had been telling the doctors what had happened. The last thing they needed was for the lankier wolf toon to work himself into a panic, especially when he was still sick.
Besides, it wasn't as though he needed to tell Boris to look out for Bendy. The other wolf did that just fine on his own. Telling him what had happened would only scare him, at least now. Maybe later it might come up. But not now.
Boris's eyes blew a little wide as Tom reached out, the stockier wolf toon's grip a little unsure at first before he was able to draw the lankier toon closer. Once Boris realized what was happening, he settled down relatively quick. It almost made Tom consider doing the same to Dewey, especially since the inkwell was so young and, yeah, this would be his first run-in with being sick, but the younger toon was a good head or so taller. Trying to move him likely wasn't going to happen, so for the moment Tom let it go.
Still, that was no reason not to keep an eye on the inkwell, Tom fighting off closing his eyes to take another peek. It was a little hard to see given the angle, but it did look like Dewey was frowning a little in his sleep. Reaching over, Tom tried to feel the inkwell's head, the youngest toon flinching and opening his eyes at the touch. The stockier wolf toon pulled away a bit, though it didn't take long for Dewey's gaze to seek him out, a faint smile playing across his features as he spotted Tom.
"Hey," Tom rasped. "How're you feelin'?"
"Tired." Dewey sounded equally raspy, the inkwell's face scrunching briefly as he re-registered the state he was in. "Need, w-water, n' hurts."
"What hurts?"
"This, 'n everywhere." The inkwell shifted uncomfortably, pointing to his head as his legs twitching under the blanket. Buddy's head lifted up from Dewey's other side, the tiny toon's face a picture of grogginess with his hair tuft somewhat lopsided, but he snapped into the moment easily enough, patting Dewey's head with some barely-there shushing noises.
Tom was about to ask about the pain, when the sounds of someone walking to their door caught his ear, the wolf gingerly raising his head off the pillow just in time to hear the doorknob be turned. The person coming in was thankfully Lucio, the man carrying what looked like a paper bag as he made sure the door was properly shut before entering the room proper. Before Tom could think to pretend to be asleep, Lucio glanced over and made eye contact, giving an at-ease type of smile.
"We got your ink. Got enough that you can each take two of them."
"Ink?" Boris mumbled, voice creaking a little as he opened his eyes and started to sit up.
"Yep. Do you want to take one now?"
"That'd, that'd probably be best. It works pretty fast."
"How fast are we talking?" Lucio asked, curiosity clear in his voice. Though Tom had misgivings in letting the man know so much, he didn't have the means to signal for Boris to stop without drawing attention to himself.
"Well, we, uh," the lankier wolf stammered before he gathered his thoughts. "It makes us sleepy, an' when we wake up, it's better? I've never tried t'fight it, but it's pretty quick, especially if, if you're smaller."
Boris had been turning to look at Bendy while he spoke, catching himself midsentence and turning away. But the damage was definitely done, everyone growing a little more somber at the rushed correction. In a seeming effort to be helpful, Lucio gently ushered the conversation on.
"Alright. So Dewey might need more than one dose to get through this. What counts as a dose?"
"Uh, dunno?" Boris replied with an apologetic grin. "I just kinda drink the whole thing, usually? If it's a lot, then it might be more than one."
"Good thing I brought two for each of you. So that's about six inkwells in total. And, well, considering what you're telling me, it might be for the best that we have some on hand for Bendy and Alice too, right?"
"Mhm." Boris replied, feeling a strange mix of sad at the reminder, and gratified that Lucio was thinking of the other members of their little group. Not that Bendy and Alice could drink anything right now, but the thought was nice.
"Alright, so, who's taking this first?"
Lucio's question had all of the toons looking between each other, Boris sluggishly realizing that, well, Buddy didn't need the ink, and between him, Tom, and Dewey, he'd rather…
"Can Dewey have the first one? If'n he wants?"
"That can work. You ready?"
Dewey jolted a little at the query, looking from Lucio, to Tom, and then to Boris in askance. For his part, Boris tried to look as sure as he could, even though his head was starting to feel like it was pounding.
"It's okay, Dewey, it'll make you feel better."
"All better?" The youngest toon asked, so painfully hopeful that Boris had the sudden, strong desire to stay near the inkwell. Really, the only thing keeping him in his own cot at the moment was that he felt like he'd get dizzy if he tried to stand.
"Mhm. You'll feel a little sleepy, but when you wake up it'll all be better. I promise."
"Promise?" Dewey echoed, a little unsure at first but something in the lankier wolf's face seemed to convince him everything would be fine. Lucio cracking open one of the inkwells was met with some slight trepidation, but Dewey still was able to make his way through that one. He also got through about half of the second one, eyes turning unfocused and groggy as the ink started to take effect. For a moment Boris was worried Lucio was going to have trouble, but he was able to get Dewey lying back down on his cot. Once the youngest toon was stationary Buddy crawled in close to curl up next to Dewey's head, the pair settling peacefully in to rest.
Though now that that was done, the next matter was who would take their dose of ink next. Boris and Tom glanced between each other, the lankier wolf noticing the tense frown on Tom's face and feeling more than a little conflicted. If he took his dose, it'd move things along faster, but Tom might need someone with him when he went under. All in all, it was a tough problem, though before Boris could do more than glance between the other wolf and Lucio, Tom caught his eye and spoke in an undertone.
"You can go next."
"Will you be okay?" Boris immediately asked, ears low as he studied Tom's face. The other wolf had briefly started at the question, but quickly nodded as he rested a hand on Boris's shoulder. It was his 'normal' one, the lankier wolf noticed, the metallic prosthetic still tucked away under the sheets.
"Yeah, I'll be fine. Take the ink and get some rest."
"You gotta rest too." Boris came back with a frown, as while Tom was a somewhat different animal in his own right, the nudging was reminding Boris of how Bendy would behave sometimes when he was trying to be a good pal. Though, often enough, the wolf felt like Bendy's idea of being good meant taking less than he actually needed.
The words definitely seemed to get the other wolf's attention, Tom's eyebrows raising for a moment at Boris's more nudging tone. There wasn't much of any other tell for whether or not Tom was considering Boris's words, or just annoyed by the lankier wolf overall, the thought briefly causing a bundle of nerves to coil up in Boris's stomach.
But as Boris's ears started to fold back Tom gave a quiet sigh, reaching over and roughly tousling the lankier wolf's head.
"Alright, fine. But you first. You're still sick."
Tom was still sick too, but Boris decided that mentioning that wasn't quite so important given that he was plenty relieved the other wolf didn't seem too mad at him. And, well, he was still feeling plenty achy and feverish. Ink would clear that up, easily. So, without much fanfare, Boris took his own inkwell, downed it without complaint, and settled in.
That left Tom and Lucio, the stockier wolf quietly watching as the nurse studied Boris's face, a bit fascinated by how easily a lot of the discomfort seemed to just melt away, the flush from the fever already clearing a bit. It took Lucio a moment to realize that he did in fact have an audience, the man's darker eyes meeting Tom's more iron-clad, inky-black stare.
"So, you next?" Lucio finally said, the one-armed wolf meeting the question with a momentary rise in tension before he rolled his eyes and gave a hefty sigh.
"…Fine."
"Don't sound so enthusiastic." The nurse dryly replied, giving a faint eyeroll of his own as he dug around for Tom's inkwells. The wolf grabbed one, gingerly cracking off the top and downing the contents in a few swallows.
"Do you want me to leave the rest here?" Lucio asked. Though Tom's eyes had already started to fog over, he still gave a growled affirmation at the notion, Lucio obliging and making his exit. It was something Tom was glad for, given that he was out like a light within a few minutes.
No one really moved until a few hours later, Tom happy to report that he woke up before anyone else had come into their room. A brief check around the room proved that they had been left alone; no one had been touched, and nothing had been moved. He felt mostly better, a faint lethargy clinging to his limbs if he was being honest.
Though given that while Tom could say he felt better, he didn't feel entirely recovered. He wasn't sure he wanted to take more ink, especially given that the others were all still asleep. Someone needed to stand watch. Maybe when the others woke up he'd try for more, then they could maybe rest in shifts.
Well, maybe he and Boris could rest in shifts, Dewey would need to be looked after. It was his first time being sick, after all. Tom chanced a glance over to the inkwell, noticing how a lot of the earlier discomfort seemed to have eased. Dewey's features were perfectly relaxed and without any sort of furrow of pain, the youngest toon sleeping peacefully. Buddy seemed to be in the same boat, the tiny toon curled up next to Dewey's head.
There was still a bit of light playing over the floor, cots, all around the room, but it was starting to grow dimmer, hinting that it was likely close to evening. Tom gave the sight a few moments of staring, right before he decided that he'd better sit up if he was looking to formally keep watch. That part alone was more of a struggle than Tom would've liked, but wrapping the blanket around his shoulders helped cut a case of the chills.
He ended up sitting at the foot of his cot, wondering if it would be worth it trying to get up or if he'd be better off just staying put for a while longer.
He couldn't have been sitting there for more than ten minutes when he heard the familiar clack-clack of Dr. Sommer's shoes on the floor outside. There was another person approaching, this one's walking a little slower but with the same sort of quality to their steps. Same kind of shoes? Tom wasn't sure, but most of his attention was grabbed by the conversation the pair started to have. In an undertone, but that didn't really matter to the wolf's ears.
"How have they been?" Same older voice from the last time, Dr. Sommer speaking up afterwards.
"We may have to hold off on any formal interview, at least for a little while."
"You sounded more optimistic last night. Did something change?"
"The report I gave was that they be left alone for at least a day or two. Today someone put sedatives into their food and could have caused them serious harm."
"That was not something I ordered. I will have to talk to Paul, just to be sure he hasn't gotten the wrong idea. We will have to conduct a formal interview eventually, putting together the pieces from the studio will only tell us so much."
"Pieces…" Dr. Sommer murmured, before speaking up with a question. "Sally, what happened to that note we found? The one from the jacket?"
Jacket? What were they talking about…?
Then it all but smacked Tom in the face. Bendy's jacket. The jacket the little devil had been wearing when he'd come back to the studio. The one Boris had been holding when he left with Dewey. They'd taken that too and had clearly found something that triggered everything that had happened with the food.
Before Tom realized it he'd started, rattling his own cot and accidentally waking up Boris and Buddy, the latter of whom caused Dewey to wake up with a far too loud cry. The noise clearly got the attention of the pair outside, given that the door immediately opened and Dr. Sommer hurriedly came in.
"Is everyone alright?" She asked, just as Boris spoke up with a sleep-muzzled call of Tom's name. That turned the good doctor's attention to Tom, though the stockier wolf was slightly distracted as he tried to catch a glimpse of whoever was outside before the door closed. He briefly caught sight of someone on the shorter side, wearing what looked like brown, sharp eyes peering at what they could of the toons before the door finally clicked shut.
"Tom, is everything okay?" Dr. Sommer asked, managing to snag the aforementioned wolf's attention this time. But immediately Tom couldn't help blurting out the first thing on his mind, not helped by the fact that he still felt like an ink monster worked him over.
"What note were you talkin' about. What note did Bendy have."
Tom knew that the words had gotten the attention of Boris, the other wolf sitting up a little though for the moment Tom's attention was all for the good doctor, who had paused at the growled not-quite-a-question. Over her shoulder, Tom could see the door opening a sliver, the earlier-noticed someone peeking a bit more readily into the room. He could make out a few more features, graying hair, shorter stature, more darker-toned, slightly wrinkled skin though the face, the woman's face, had a harder look to it that immediately put Tom on his guard.
"Ears like those don't miss much, right?" Dr. Sommer's words were a little more wryly joking, and in a way it reminded Tom of Allison. The fact that there was someone else, someone unfamiliar listening in, was the only thing that kept him from fully relaxing. But, as she met the wolf's gaze, the older woman seemed to let some of her ironclad demeanor fall away from her face.
"This is Mrs. Liddel." Dr. Sommer spoke up, recognizing the uptick in tension in the full group. Boris and Buddy were eying the newcomer with a wary sort of attentiveness, Tom with outright dislike, and Dewey mirroring what he was seeing in his siblings. "She is, one of the people working to understand what was happening at Joey Drew Studios."
The familiar name caused a ripple of anxiety, with Boris, Buddy, and Dewey all looking between each other. Tom stood like a resolute wall, ears back as he stared Mrs. Liddel down. For her part, she didn't seem bothered, looking at all of the toons in turn.
"Yes. The studio has been both a baffling and worrying anomaly for some time now. However, it had been relatively quiet up until a couple nights ago. We were wondering if you all could help us understand why."
The words set off a twitch of nervous energy to run through the group, everyone glancing between each other before Boris finally shored up his nerve and asked a question.
"W-Whaddya want to know?"
In an answer to that, Mrs. Liddel shuffled a collection of papers she had with her, gathering a pad of paper and a pen to be at the ready as she replied.
"I was thinking that we could conduct an informal interview. Do you know what that is?"
"A little? You ask questions, I think?" Boris answered, though his unsure mood was somewhat alleviated by Mrs. Liddel's confirming nod.
"Yes. And, just to preface what I ask, if you do not know the answer to something, it is perfectly alright to tell me that you don't know. I'd rather an honest answer than dishonest one."
Boris nodded at that, ears lowering a little with nerves as he avoided everyone's eyes. Tom, by contrast, still stared at Mrs. Liddel, though his eyes did dart occasionally to Dr. Sommer, and to the other toons in the room, checking on where they all were. Buddy and Dewey, by contrast, looked completely unsure, their eyes glancing between the two wolves as though one of them would more readily explain what was happening.
"S-So…"
"We could start with what happened when the studio was open, what caused it to, implode like it did. Do any of you remember?" Mrs. Liddel asked, the question garnering an immediate response from Tom.
"No. We weren't around for that."
Even still, the smallest of the group, Buddy, gestured for the humans' attention. Once he had it, the minute devil gestured out, a fountaining of something? An explosion of something? It was hard to really say, both Mrs. Liddel and Dr. Sommer looking between each other as they tried to read into the motion.
"Something was, released?" Dr. Sommer tried, only for Buddy to shrug in response, shrinking down into Dewey's arms as his endurance for the questioning wore thin.
"Were your friends in the studio at the time?" Mrs. Liddel asked, catching everyone's attention and prompting Boris to speak up this time.
"N-No, Bendy wasn't in the studio. A-Alice and Henry might've been, but, but I wasn't because I was…" The wolf felt so very unsure going on beyond this point. What would they do if they knew what happened to him? Would they do anything at all? Besides, there was a part of him that definitely wanted to steer clear of any mention of this if he could. "I, I wasn't okay. Somethin' bad happened t'me. I, I just…got back…"
"Were you with Bendy?" The question from Mrs. Liddel was innocent, well-meaning enough, but given that it reminded Boris of the fact that he could have been with Bendy, could have avoided the whole thing with Joey, it just made the wolf feel all the more worse as he shrank down, scrunching in on himself as he stared at his clasped hands and crisscrossed legs in front of him.
"No, no, I wasn't. He tried to get me to come when he left, but…"
There was a pause, during which the wolf clearly could have filled in with the rest of his answer but for the moment the only thing fully occupying Boris was that he didn't want to move, didn't want to give away any sign of the storm raging through his mind. His arms were practically vibrating with how much he was fighting to keep them still, the lanky toon feeling the nigh-uncontrollable urge to grab at his ears.
"Bendy, left? When did he leave?" Mrs. Liddel finally said, the diverting questions almost a relief for Boris, but also making him feel like there was another unpleasant surprise waiting just around the corner for him to stumble across.
"Uhh, could'a been in May, an', an' he was missin' for a good while, b'fore…"
Trailing off again, though thankfully this quiet patch didn't go on for too long before Mrs. Liddel asked another question.
"Did Bendy say why he left?" Alright, this was a little better, the wolf finding the jittery feeling subside a little as he recalled just what was said that night. Even if there was a part of him that still felt guilty for not going with Bendy…
"…He was scared'a somethin'. He wouldn' say what, but somethin' had scared him."
"Was there any hint that he gave about what scared him? Anything you can recall?" The questions were pertinent, but they poked to life some old suspicions Boris had had about Bendy running away. Ones he hadn't wanted to consider too much, but considering everything that had happened later on…
"I," Boris stammered, feeling like his mouth was going dry at the insinuation. Like his creator could somehow still hear him. "I-I think…Joey had somethin' to do with it."
"Joey Drew?" Mrs. Liddel asked, the name making Boris flinch, but there was no going back now…
"Yes'm."
There was a shuffling of papers, Mrs. Liddel turning over the collection she'd brought with her until she found something that caught her eye. Briefly she appeared to scan the page, eyes moving back and forth in a way that was unfortunately reminding Boris of when Joey was looking over something important. Or, at least, something he deemed important in the moment, usually before he either dismissed or grew more focused. It was a comparison that did not help Boris relax into the moment at all, the wolf feeling himself grow more tense as he waited for the other shoe to drop.
"What can you tell me about Joey Drew? He's mentioned many times in accordance with the Studio, but there's not much to say about his personal life."
Well, it wasn't exactly a cutting question, and if anything it gave Boris a weird sort of look into how other people viewed his creator. It was a surreal thing to hear about from people outside of the studio. Even though people were careful about it when Boris was present, he did still hear some things. That Joey was a "spendthrift", Joey didn't think of other people, Joey was callous, Joey was cruel…the list went on. But, people outside the studio didn't really know that much about him? It was strange to think about. Joey definitely made sure everyone in the studio knew who he was.
"H-He, uh, he lived above the studio, he, he made Bendy, Alice, an' me, but…" The lankier wolf fumbled, fighting between his answer and the impulse to ask Mrs. Liddel questions about Joey, something that Boris wasn't sure she'd appreciate.
"…He made you?" Mrs. Liddel asked, sounding rather incredulous about that notion. And, well, Boris ruminated that it maybe did sound a little strange to someone that wasn't in the studio…
"Mhm. He used the Machine."
"A machine."
"No. The Machine. The Ink Machine." Tom stepped in, ears still back but his voice had lost some of its harder edge. He was still watching both Mrs. Liddel and Dr. Sommer like they might pounce, more Mrs. Liddel though Boris felt like that was plenty unnecessary. She was older, it wasn't like she was going to jump at them…
If Mrs. Liddel was bothered by Tom's tone, or his harder edge, she didn't indicate it. If anything, she seemed perfectly fine to pick up with the information that the stockier wolf had given her, addressing her next questions to him with Boris anxiously looking on. Briefly, Boris's eyes went to Dewey and Buddy, the pair still showing similar shadows of nervousness but it was somewhat tempered by the clear note of curiosity in their gazes. Dewey in particular was listening carefully, eyes trained on Tom like the wolf was giving some truly momentous bits of information. In retrospect, perhaps it kind of made some sense, they were both rather young, Dewey probably didn't know a lot of these words, or the information being mentioned.
Boris just wasn't sure he'd be really able to explain things to the inkwell later. He already felt plenty wrung out by this conversation as it was. Fervently the wolf hoped that, if there were any questions forthcoming, it wouldn't be tonight.
"What was the Ink Machine for? Was it specifically for making living toons?"
The question was, well, an understandable one. But Tom had apparently decided he was done answering questions for right now, Boris worriedly listening to the silence yawning in the room before he decided to just jump in and answer.
"I, uh, I dunno. I think he used it for a lotta things. He didn't like a lotta people touchin' it. An' it'd screech if you turned it off for too long."
In retrospect, when it came to Joey and the Machine that was about the extent of Boris's knowledge. But it was all he had, and he was eager for this to be over already. He was slightly dismayed to see the renewal of interest in Mrs. Liddel's face, and even though the wolf couldn't help his ears lowering a little he did try to keep the majority of his weary nerves off of his face.
"It did?"
"J-Joey said it was, ink build-up, but, n-no one was never sure…" The words trailed off rather lamely, though really it was all Boris knew. It was all he'd been told. Though, given the…being, they'd encountered in the last few hours at the studio, he was wonder if that might not have been a lie.
…Had that been how Joey had been controlling Them? Hurting Them by turning the Machine on and off? Had the screeching actually been…?
Boris was so caught up with his thoughts, he missed Mrs. Liddel's eyes going to Tom until it was just a few seconds too late. The other wolf, by contrast, looked stone-faced, eyes flinty as he stared the older woman down. It was a decided uptick from his previous demeanor, Boris briefly worried about what could have caused the change. But, even still, Mrs. Liddel met the harder stare with an even one, asking the stockier wolf a question directly.
"You don't seem to agree, Tom, was it?"
Tom didn't answer, his flesh and ink hand clenching on his pant leg as he maintained eye contact for a moment longer before letting it drop to the floor in between him and Mrs. Liddel. Either way, he wasn't answering. And after that sank in, Mrs. Liddel drew away from the topic, changing her focus to a previous matter.
"Alright, let's step back from the topic of the Ink Machine for a bit. Boris, you said Bendy left the May before everything…went wrong at the studio. He didn't say why but the implication was that something frightened him. Do you have any idea why he might've come back?"
Boris, wasn't really sure how to answer that. Had Bendy actually said why he'd come back? He didn't think so, there'd been more focus on how they were going to get out of the studio. Would they blame Bendy, depending on what he said? The thought was terrifying, making the wolf freeze anew.
"…You said you found a letter." Tom spoke up, the tone just shy of a growl. It was a feeling that had Boris flinching slightly, the accusation in it like a barely veiled knife. He almost wanted to tell Tom to stop, that he wasn't comfortable with this direction even as a part of him did want to know what that letter said, but in that instant he felt too frozen up with his own nerves. If he spoke, the attention might come back to him, this time with the contents of this mysterious letter in the mix. And Boris wasn't sure he could answer any questions about that, or at least, not in a way that didn't make Bendy look guilty.
And Bendy wasn't! He couldn't have been, right? …Right?
It seemed like an impossibly long moment before Mrs. Liddel seemed primed to pick up on where Tom had left off. Her hands were turning over a new page, eyes considering the contents even as she spoke.
"Yes, we did, it was in the coat that you had been using to bandage Bendy's wound. Had he been wearing it when he came back to the studio?" Her eyes turned to consider the wolves again, Boris unable to hide a flinch even as he automatically nodded. "However, if he said something else about why he might've wanted to come back, then perhaps we should be aware of it. After all, you had said that he was frightened, Boris. Enough to run away. If he really was so afraid, then why would he come back at all?"
His nerves were too overwrought, Boris unable to fend off stammers as his hands came up to grasp at the fur covering his arms.
"H-He didn't really say. We, we had a lotta stuff, happenin' at the time…" Just tell them, the wolf's mind hummed like a frantically buzzing insect, looking for some way out. Immediately Boris leapt at the idea. They had to know that Bendy wasn't guilty, they had to… "But he wanted t'get out! We, we were s'pposed to leave together, but then we found Buddy, an'… Why? W-What did the letter say?"
The lankier wolf found himself cringing even as the questions were out of his mouth, knowing that firstly, it didn't really contribute to the point he'd been trying to make, and secondly, there was a part of him that wasn't sure he'd wanted to know. Bendy hadn't brought it up. Had he not wanted to talk about it, had it been bad? Or had he just forgotten about it?
"It states that Bendy left the studio some time ago, and that the writer, Joey, wanted him to come back. He mentions you, Boris, and Alice, as well as Henry. The way he writes it he makes it sound like all of you were still working in the studio." Mrs. Liddel reported, eyes scanning more over what she had in front of her rather than the toons, who waited with equal parts concern and confusion to hear the full breadth of information. Dr. Sommer was watching the group though, her eyes watching how Dewey and Buddy's eyes remained uncomprehending, but growing nervous along with Boris as the wolf's posture further sunk inward. But before anyone could comment, Mrs. Liddel found a particular line, speaking as her eyes went to Boris in particular. "It does mention that you might've been pushing yourself a bit too hard trying to help him."
"H-Help who?" Boris asked, not quite understanding the context of what he was hearing. Help who? Bendy?
"Joey, I presume." Mrs. Liddel replied, without much fanfare. Though the wolf in question gave such a terrific jolt that she immediately looked up at him, a first hint of actual concern in her face as she called out to him. "Boris?"
For Boris, the world had turned completely upside down. His lungs felt like they were stammering in his chest, his heart going double-time at both what he heard and the memories it invoked. Joey had HURT him, Joey had CUT HIM OPEN, Joey had written his letter to Bendy to bring the little devil back to the studio and had told him that Boris, who he KILLED, was HELPING HIM—
"J-Joey, Joey killed, m-m-me. I wasn' helpin' him, he killed me—" Boris almost didn't recognize his own voice, though he knew he was the one speaking. There was a part that remained strangely disconnected from the hysteria rattling through his body and mind, insisting that he had to tell them the truth, set the record straight. That Joey shouldn't be allowed to just, not mention what had happened. It had hurt, it was wrong. He just, couldn't stop crying, couldn't stop shaking, his hands were grabbing too hard at his fur, he could feel it coming out, don't cry, don't cry, don't you dare cry you stupid STUPID MUTT— "I don't know why he'd write that, I wasn't helpin' him, he, he c-c-cut me open—!"
Boris was startled from his internal war by Tom's hands coming over and trying to grab the lankier wolf's hands, which were closed tightly over the fur on Boris's arms. Tom had clearly recognized what was happening, but was struggling between trying not to hurt Boris and make sure he didn't rip out chunks of his own fur.
And once Boris realized that the other wolf wasn't trying to outright hurt him, he couldn't help sagging into Tom's frame, letting the stockier wolf wrap him into a hug that was just shy of suffocating. Distantly, Boris could hear Dewey making a few distressed little whines before the inkwell seemed to scoot closer, rubbing somewhat awkwardly over one of the wolf's arms. Glancing over, with the immediate panic fully spent, Boris saw the youngest toon's eyes tearing as he continued to rub back and forth, like the touch would somehow ease the moment. Buddy wasn't too far from where Dewey was in terms of emotion, the smallest toon's eyes seeking out Boris's, making worried eye contact before he hurried himself over to hug at the lankier wolf's midsection. Tom's emotions, those could only be guessed at, but Boris could tell from the drawn back ears and the stiff body language that the other wolf was definitely not happy.
Though it seemed like the display had gotten something through to their interviewer, Mrs. Liddel clearing her throat enough to get the toons' attention before she went on.
"…I'm very sorry, Boris." A small ruffle of papers followed, Boris shifting around to see what was going on. Mrs. Liddel's eyes were more on the papers in front of her, though there was a distinct shadow hanging over her face. Briefly the wolf chanced a glance to Dr. Sommer, before flinching away at the somewhat brittle calm he glimpsed there, mistaking it for tenseness being directed at him. "I just have one more question, and I will be finished for now. Is that alright?"
A nod from Boris, and Mrs. Liddel went on.
"How were you able to meet Bendy again? Can you describe what you remember?"
This actually wasn't too bad a question, at least not at first. Boris drew back a little from Tom, more or less sitting in the middle of the huddle of toons as he swallowed, trying to gather himself before he replied.
"W-We, we met up, somewhere in the music departmen', where I used t'work. I'd heard a, some kinda racket, Bendy screamin', and I went runnin' for the elevator. By the time I'd gotten there, Bendy'd already gotten away, but he'd been, he was scared, an' upset. He, he thought I was trickin' him at first because…" The words were there, but Boris did not want to say them. He'd connected the dots about why Bendy had been thinking he'd been tricked, he'd done that during their very first meeting. But saying it came reminders, ones that the wolf had just been feeling nearly strangled by. He didn't want to go back to them, but he'd been backed into a corner without realizing it.
"Boris?" Mrs. Liddel asked, polite but ultimately still confused. Then again, that was to be expected, he'd pretty much just trailed off. He'd have to finish the thought, no matter how hard it was. It was the last question, the very last one. He could do this.
"H-He, he saw me, when I was…" Boris wasn't able to say the last word, but he drew a slash motion over the front of his chest, huddling in on himself. The message seemed to echo in the resulting silence, before Mrs. Liddel picked it up with a tone that wavered between wry and somewhat warm.
"Indisposed, we'll say. And, I truly am sorry. For this as well as the issues before with your food. That should not have happened, and it will not be happening again." The older woman was getting to her feet, the interview thankfully, mercifully, done. "I may have to speak with you again to clarify certain details, but I will try to conduct an interview when Bendy, Alice, or Henry are awake. We want to know what precisely happened at the studio, and what it might mean overall."
Well, at least for now. But at this point Boris was more than happy to move on, especially considering it came with the prospect of Henry, Bendy, and Alice being awake. If they were with him, whatever happened, Boris knew he'd be…
"Okay."
It was a word that Boris almost wasn't sure he'd wanted to say, like he'd be inviting some major intrusion or trap later on down the road. But he knew that was what they wanted to hear, that it would make everything stop for now. And, really, that seemed like the most important thing, to just have it stop for now.
It'd be okay, right?
Boris had almost wished that he could ask someone that, could talk to Bendy, Henry, or Sammy, or Wally, but he knew that none of those options were available anymore. He had to be stronger, better, even if it was hard. He just had to hold on a little longer.
Though while Mrs. Liddel left, and Dr. Sommer had walked out with her, it seemed like she still had something to say, given that she came right back in.
"Is it alright if we talk for a little longer? There's something I wanted to ask."
The promise of yet another conversation caused the four toons to tense, Dewey scooting just a little closer to the two wolves, as Tom wrapped a steadying and protective arm over Boris's shoulders. But, while Boris himself definitely wasn't too sure about any new conversations between them and the people working here, Dr. Sommer's less authoritative, more open and slightly concerned body language made him lower his guard.
It didn't feel threatening. In a strange way, it vaguely reminded Boris of Sammy, or maybe Norman when either of them wanted to talk to the wolf about something, to impart some advice or just to check in. Maybe Dr. Sommer was feeling the same sort of way?
"S-Sure?"
"Do any of you know," Dr. Sommer started, seeming to pick over her words before she went on. ", what today's date is?"
The question made a wave of confusion go through the quartet of toons, all of them looking between each other as they tried to divine the answer. Had anyone said what day it was? It didn't come up at any point, at least not that they remembered…
"I…I dunno?" Boris hummed nervously, eyes casting around like there might be some answer in the bright white and softer colors of the room. "I-I think it was 'round May when Bendy ran away, think, think things started happenin' a month 'r two later…It felt like summer outside, though…"
"No, no, it's okay. You don't have to give me a specific date." Dr. Sommer's tone was light and reassuring, her hand gently waving away the tense confusion. But before Boris could get too comfortable, she came back with another question.
"…Do you know what year we're currently in? If you're not sure, you can just tell me what you remember last."
"It was nineteen forty-nine, goin' on nineteen fifty, I remember when the, when the band rang in the new year." Though there was a brief spate of bittersweet sadness at the memory, Boris happened to glance up, and felt something in him grow wary at some look in Dr. Sommer's face. He couldn't really put a name to what he saw, but if the wolf had to describe it he would say it almost looked a little shocked. Shocked and worried.
"Why?" Boris asked, swallowing around an uneasy lump in his throat. "Wh-What year is it now?"
Dr. Sommer didn't look away from the wolf, but there was the feeling that she had to take a moment to be fully ready herself.
"It's July 16th, nineteen-seventy-nine, Boris. I'm sorry."
The few words set off a chain reaction in Boris's mind, dragging out some half-faded memory; Bendy had said something about thirty years, right? And it had said something about time passing in Joey's letter, but Boris really hadn't the time to process that until now. It had just, gotten buried under the weight of lost years, lost decades, that were now in half-remembered, terrifying fragments of recollection in the back of Boris's mind.
The feeling of an arm wrapping around his shoulders snapped Boris out of his thoughts, though the source was just Tom. The stockier wolf had leaned in, a rough sort of gentility in how he pinned the lankier wolf to his side in a hug, and maneuvered Boris's hand away from pulling at the fur on his other arm.
"Nunna that, alright?" It was quieter, had that same sort of rougher feel to it, but it was comforting enough that Boris couldn't help relaxing a little, even as he knew he was definitely crying a bit into Tom's shoulder.
A flicker of movement coming from Dr. Sommer made Boris flinch, and Tom definitely stiffened a little, but as the pair looked to her they realized that the doctor had only been grabbing a blanket, handing it to Tom who draped it over Boris's shoulders. It took a bit of wrangling, but eventually Tom got the blanket wrapped around the lankier wolf.
But, while Boris was somewhat relieved to feel the warm, relatively slight pressure of the blanket, it also alerted him to the sort of heady breathlessness that was permeating through his frame, making him feel jittery.
"Boris?" Tom asked, ears lowering somewhat as he looked over the other wolf. Immediately, the impulse was to wave off the concern, but the lanky wolf's voice sounded far too winded to be normal.
"I-It's okay, I'm okay, really…"
And his hand was also shaking, Boris giving that a more dismayed look as he rushed to pull his arms in. Not that it mattered, everyone had already seen. Even the younger toons given Dewey's more worried noise from off to the side. The inkwell was also shifting around a lot, Boris turning his head enough to see Dewey rocking back and forth as his hands fumbled around before latching onto his own shirt, clearly looking for something to do.
"Do you want to hug Boris too, Dewey?" Dr. Sommer asked, the inkwell looking to her with confusion on top of worry, another whine blooming from his throat.
"Do you want to hug Boris like Tom is doing?" The doctor went again, the clearer instruction finally getting through to the troubled toon. Dewey, though he wasn't fully able to dismiss his nerves, did give another 'nod', trying his best to scoot closer and tuck himself against the pair of toon wolves. It was a little awkwardly done given the angle, but he did try. Buddy did his best to join in as well, the tiny toon scrambling to huddle against Boris while also not crowding Tom. Tom, for his part, accepted the attempts with good grace, even if it felt awkward both to receive the attention and be a part of the whole huddle.
"How are you feeling, Boris?" Dr. Sommer asked, after letting the hug go on for about a minute. The lanky wolf in the center did look much more calmed, though a slight shadow of exhaustion and emotion clung to his features.
"…Much better now."
"I'm glad. And I'm also sorry for bringing up the, the calendar. And the year. I didn't want it to come up later when you were talking to Mrs. Liddel again."
"'M thinkin' it would'a come up eventually…" Boris mumbled, though he couldn't help the impulse to shrink down a little as he looked away. Having this come up during the 'interview', when he'd already realized how stressful an experience that was going to be, did not sound the least bit appealing. Maybe it was for the better that it came up in a separate conversation, at least that was fully out of the way, though the notion that so much time had passed caused Boris to quietly turn inward. He'd been made in nineteen-forty-five, maybe? And Bendy had run away in nineteen-forty-nine, which meant that Boris had, had gone away in nineteen-fifty…
"Boris?" Tom asked, snapping the lankier wolf out of his thoughts.
"Huh?"
"Everything okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, was just thinkin'. If'n its been thirty years, then, I'm older, right? Thirty years older, but…" Boris fumbled over his words for a moment, before giving a tired shrug and going with the first ones on his mind. "I don't feel older, 'r smarter, or anythin' like that, I guess."
Given that the lankier wolf had become very interested in his pant legs, it made it somewhat hard to discern how Tom was reacting to his words, though before Boris could stew for too long, a faint sigh came from the other wolf.
"Yeah, I know what you mean."
Boris glanced up for a moment, catching a brief look of exhaustion flitting across Tom's face before the stockier wolf quietly tucked it away, turning a harder stare onto Dr. Sommer.
"Was there something else?"
"No, that was it. I did have a thought about how Bendy and Alice could potentially be helped, but I would need to run some things by you first, just to be sure that it could work."
The words took a moment to register, but Boris perked up once the meaning became clear, looking Dr. Sommer in the face as he replied.
"Wh-What were you thinkin' of?"
There was definitely a faint smile on Dr. Sommer's face as she began to dig through her pockets, asking a question as she did.
"You mentioned that ink can be used to heal you, correct?"
"…Yeah?" Boris replied, they had gone over this before. Dr. Sommer, meanwhile, seemed to find what she was looking for, pulling out what looked like a small bottle of pills, taking one out and holding it for the toons to see.
"Well, it might take a bit of doing, but I can try to have something like these made. Small gel capsules, the same you would use to take medicine. But instead, filled with ink. I'd like to at least try it, considering your physiology makes it difficult to know how to give something to you intravenously."
"Huh?" Boris asked, looking up from the little pill in the doctor's hand. On some level, he understood the logic at play, could even agree with it to some degree, but the last word in what she said had confused him.
"Ah, though a vein, an IV, like Henry has."
"Oh." Boris hummed, before a problem occurred to him and he hesitantly spoke up. "But they're asleep. They can't, drink anythin' when they're asleep."
"We want to confirm that they work first, but there are ways we can try to get them to take them. Bendy also did wake up a little before, so, perhaps he might do it again."
It was a hopeful statement, Boris feeling the faintest trickles of lightness in his heart as he gave a small smile at the idea. He did, desperately want to believe it, but…
…Well, there wasn't much anyone could do about it now, was there? Especially when considering what Dr. Sommer had said, that the pills would have to be made first before anyone could take them. So, heart feeling like it was teetering somewhere between light and heavy, Boris floated through the rest of the evening, eventually settling in with the others to go to bed for the night and accepting hugs from Buddy and Dewey before they laid down. Given everything that had happened, the lanky wolf thought he'd be awake for a while, but apparently his body had other ideas.
He was asleep not long after his head hit the pillow.
There was a faint hum of voices teasing at Buddy's attention as he rose groggily from sleep, the tiny toon not quite lifting his head yet but opening his eyes a slit as he tried to discern where the noise was coming from. Perhaps someone was outside, and that's why he could hear talking?
But there was a renewed burst to the humming, the talking still indistinct but the source unmistakable. It was coming from around where the window was, which set it completely at odds with the idea of someone being out in the hallway.
Now feeling much more cautious Buddy woke up fully, the minute devil carefully easing himself up as he tried to peer through the dark. There was some light coming in from the hallway, enough that he could make out some particulars about the others. Boris had scooted close to Tom again in his sleep, the other wolf's head resting partially on his lankier twin's. Dewey had stayed fairly still, a sleepy murmur escaping the inkwell's mouth as he transversed his dreams.
Though no one gave any sign that they'd heard anyone talking, least of all in the room. Buddy could guess that if Tom had heard it he would have been wide awake by now.
But that left the question, and the prevailing mystery, of who the mysterious speaker was, and why only Buddy seemed to be able to hear them. Sitting up, the tiny toon tried to peer through the fainter, hazed light drifting in through the window in their door. It was really only a small band of light, enough to see by, but parts of the room were still in an ominous kind of darkness.
"—did a number on you, huh?"
Buddy jumped at the clear voice, looking around before a faintly moving patch of darkness closer to the window caught his attention. It looked like a man, kind of lanky, wearing some kind of hat with his hair poking out from under it. But as the tiny devil moved, the man's eyes also caught sight of the flickering motion, head jerking to see and sending poor Buddy scrambling to hide behind Dewey's bigger frame. The inkwell snorted in his sleep, but didn't wake up.
But before the minute devil could well and truly panic, he heard the softer sounds of the hat-wearing man edging a little closer, his voice pitched low and apologetic.
"Hey, hey, kiddo, you're okay. It's okay. Just lil' ol' me out here. I'm not anybody you need to be worried about, promise."
It didn't sound like he was lying, though if this man proved to be dangerous, Buddy could try to wake up Tom or Boris, right? Even if they hadn't moved at all since this man had… seemingly just appeared in their room and if that wasn't a somewhat unsettling notion. Even still, Buddy quietly peeked back up, making eye contact with the man who was now standing in the pool of light coming from the door's window.
He really didn't look that scary. Even if he was big, and there was a part of Buddy that shied away from the notion of bigger than me, the brightness to his eyes and the warm smile hinted at something, well, not so bad. Maybe even good.
It also helped that the brief splash of light exposed a bunch of small details, making this apparent stranger seem a lot more…normal. He was wearing overalls, like Boris and Tom, and a long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up. There was also a smattering of dots on his face and arms, and though these didn't glow, shimmer, or float around on the man's skin, it reminded Buddy of the stars that dappled Their darker complexion.
So, trusting his instinct, the tiny toon edged out, careful clambering over Dewey and coming to sit right at the end of Bendy's bed, as close as he could get without hopping down. The man, for his part, simply stood there, a grin on his face as he spoke up.
"There, see, it's all good. Though sheesh, kid, you scared me! What're you doin' up?"
Buddy thought for a moment about how to convey what he wanted, before making a motion like he was listening to something, pulling at an eyelid to further expose and draw attention to his eye, and then pointing at the man himself.
Thankfully the man didn't seem to need much elaboration, quickly cottoning on to what the tiny devil meant, smile turning sheepish.
"Ah, yeah, guess I have been a little loud, haven't I? Sorry about that. Didn't think any'a you would be awake. Just, just wondering though…"
The man seemed to briefly wrestle with his words, before finally coming out with…
"…Were you able to hear me, kiddo? Is that what woke you up, at first?"
Buddy nodded in response, making the "listening to" gesture again. The man didn't look too surprised by that, head tilting back somewhat as he considered the upper part of the room.
"Alright, good to know. Not like I wasn't warned, but they could'a been a lot more specific…"
The words definitely seemed to be referencing something, some particular conversation, though Buddy knew he was out of the loop on it. Either way, the minute devil's befuddled head tilt caught the man's attention, yanking his gaze right back down to the tiny toon.
"Oh, sorry about that! Don't you worry about it, kiddo, it's all good!"
But Buddy wanted to know about the warning the man had apparently had, and who they was. Was they, They? Them? Had the man talked to Them? When, in the studio? After? Did he know where They'd gone, were They okay?
Though for all the questions buzzing about his head, the tiny devil struggled with conveying them, trying to gesture in a few different manners before simply throwing his hands down with a frustrated, barely there huff. The man simply watched, expression growing faintly amused and then a little more troubled at the attempts. When Buddy finally gave up, he knelt a little, trying to look the frustrated toon in the eye.
"Why don'tcha talk, kiddo?"
The somewhat quiet, searching question made Buddy flinch, the minute devil scooting back and away, more into the ready sanctuary the sleeping bodies of the other toons offered. Immediately realizing his mistake, the man hurried to speak up.
"Hey, hey hey…it's okay, I'm sorry. You don't gotta say anything right now if you don't want to. But, I'll tell you what…" He added as he knelt, fully putting himself on the tiny toon's level as he gave a faint smile. "If you do have somethin' to say, you know you can tell Ol' Wally, alright? I'll keep it under my hat."
He even lifted up his hat for show, exposing a head of curly hair which he shook out a little with an impish smile. The sight made a reciprocating, if not smaller twin break out over Buddy's face, the tiny devil unable to fully hold in a soft huff of laughter.
The sound made Wally's grin grow a hundredfold as he jauntily reinstated his hat.
"Now, I know I ain't one to talk right now, but you'd prob'ly be better off gettin' some shut-eye, kiddo. You don't gotta worry about me, I'll keep watch until…" Whatever Wally was going to say, he trailed off from, eyes turning to something in the more shadowy corner of the room near the window. Curiously, Buddy tried to peer in that direction too. It did look dark, though not any darker than you'd expect from an area that was out of the light's direct range.
However…
Buddy blinked, briefly rubbing his eyes as he tried to figure out just what he was seeing. It was hard to really, well, see it, the exact shape seeming to swim a little before his eyes, but it almost seemed like there was some kind of, of a moving shadow in that corner of the room. Not really moving moving, but maybe it swayed a little back and forth? It also didn't seem to be entirely unified, looking like it was comprised of at least a few different…parts? It was really hard to tell just what he was looking at, the tiny toon squinting as he tried to parse through and identify it.
Is that a head heads is that a body tall or short I can't tell it looks like both…
But before Buddy could do more than stare for a few seconds, Wally's hand dropped in front of his face and broke his concentration. The tiny devil flinched and shied away, looking up at Wally's face to see if he'd done something wrong.
But, Wally didn't look angry, or really upset. Maybe there was a slight, tense edge to his smile now, but his eyes looked more sad than anything.
The sight made Buddy frown worriedly. Somehow he got the feeling that Wally wasn't a person to very easily get sad, so if he was sad about something now, it likely was important. Not that Wally seemed interested in discussing it, given how quickly he moved on.
"It's okay, kiddo, you're okay. Just, maybe give 'em some time to sort themselves out, yeah? Think we all need that." His face then went to a more mock-stern, pointing at Buddy. The tiny toon jumped at first before the tone registered. "An' lil' guys like you need to be gettin' some shut-eye! C'mon, lil' man, bedtime!"
Buddy couldn't help a bit of a pout at that. He didn't want to go to bed, he wanted to know what the thing in the corner was, and who the they was that Wally had been apparently talking to, and, and…
Even still between all the excitement that day and how late it currently was, Buddy couldn't help a small yawn from slipping out, Wally of course easily seeing it.
"There, see, kiddo? Listen to your body, it knows what it needs. An' you'll prob'ly be seein' me around, so no worries! Just, maybe don't mention my name to the others yet, okay? I wanna introduce myself, if it's possible."
Buddy nodded, dozily rubbing at an eye as he crawled back over to be next to Dewey. The inkwell's head turned to lean more in the tiny devil's direction, giving a noticeable smile that Buddy echoed as he patted the bigger but younger toon's forehead.
"Lookin' out for the big guy, huh?" Wally spoke up, coming around to sit on Alice's bed as he considered the pair with a warm grin. Buddy nodded in response, settling in under his corner of the blanket, though before he could turn fully back to his own thoughts, slightly troubled that they were over what tomorrow might bring, Wally jumped in again.
"How 'bout a story, kiddo?"
Immediately Buddy perked up at that, They'd also told him plenty of stories when They were in the studio. Sometimes they were a little scary, but all of the stories had happy endings. Buddy had liked those, and well, he couldn't say that Wally looked like he was about to tell a story that didn't have a happy ending.
So he nodded, settling in as Wally began to tell his tale.
"So, way back a long time ago, there were three kids that wanted to play in the snow. Y'know what snow is, lil' man?"
Buddy did not actually know what snow was, at least not by the word itself. Tiredness briefly being pushed to the side, the tiny toon sat up, head shaking as he turned curious blue eyes up to Wally's warmer, if not shadowed brown.
"Well, snow's kinda like the stuff you see in pillows, like feathers! But it's smaller bits, it clumps together, and it's made outta frozen water, so it's really cold. Y'gotta bundle up when you go out in it, you followin' me so far?" Wally asked, just wrapping up a series of gestures, showing larger-to-small, gathering bits together like it was some sort of extra thick ink, all of which Buddy watched with rapt attention. He could almost imagine it, almost, though the notion of snow being related to water was nearly too mind-boggling to really grasp. After all, water being anywhere close to solid? What on earth could cause such a thing?
But still, Wally didn't look like he was lying, Buddy simply nodding and letting the story continue.
"Alright, so, it's snowin', right? An' these three kids wanted to play in it, but the best part'a playin' in the snow is that you can sled in it, which means you get somethin' flat and ride down a hill! Now, the kids really wanted to sled down this one particular hill, 'cause it was the best one, but there were these other kids that were on the hill, an' they didn't wanna share with nobody. In fact, they didn't wanna share so badly that when they were asked, they tried to shove our trio down the hill and inta the snow!"
Buddy looked appropriately appalled at the words, Wally giving his best exaggeration of equally aghast.
"I know, right?" But, moment over, Wally quickly snapped back into the tale. "So, the other kids made it clear that they wanted our trio to go, right? But our trio doesn't want to, and while they can't get 'em directly, they could out-think 'em. So they make like they're gonna leave, an' then try to come back later. But, well, one'a them figured they could get the drop on the other kids right away, so he ran back up the hill and tackled one'a 'em!"
Buddy's eyes opened wide at the last sentence, Wally quickly rushing to reassure the tiny devil at the first stirrings of shocked alarm.
"Oh, no no no, it's okay, lil' man. Nobody got hurt, an' the rest'a the trio quickly backed their guy up! They were fightin', swingin' their sleds around, an' they made the other kids run! They made 'em run an' got the whole hill all to themselves! They won the day, with can-do attitude and a good swingin' arm!" Wally's voice had gotten to nearly-yelling, the man catching himself and looking around, but thankfully no one else had woken up. Lowering his tone again he quickly went on, addressing the wide-eyed minute devil staring up at him.
"An' kiddo, the important thing for you to take from that is, it don't matter how bad things look, or how scary, you can always come through it, okay?" Buddy's owl-eyed look melted into something a little more quiet and comprehending as the words landed. A faint smile began to blossom over the tiny toon's face, crinkling the edges of his eyes before they closed entirely with a powerful yawn. But, even as he was rubbing the sleep from them, Buddy tried to keep Wally in view, some errant fear briefly playing through his mind that he might somehow be deprived of this new ally.
But for all of the tiny devil's fear Wally simply grinned, talking in a more soothing undertone as he went on.
"An' I'll be right here, kiddo. You'll prob'ly see me tomorrow, don't you worry. G'night, and sweet dreams, okay?"
Not that Buddy was in much of a state to do anything else, the minute devil slipping into slumber even as Wally spoke. Still, he slept with a calm, contented smile on his face.
The following morning was, a little touch and go at first. There had been some initial hesitance about the food brought in for breakfast, pancakes this time, though Tom tried it first and when a few minutes went by with nothing happening, it emboldened the others to eat too. Boris vaguely remembered pancakes from the studio, there had been a few times where someone had been able to splurge and get him and Bendy some pancakes. From what he recalled, they had been good, and, well, these definitely carried on the memory. It made him a little sad though, as the wolf definitely wished that Bendy were awake to have some, but there was a bit of distraction in seeing Buddy and Dewey's first impressions of pancakes. The pair's eyes had practically bugged out of their heads, and Dewey had quickly scarfed his to the point where he'd gotten syrup over the lower half of his face.
It had taken Boris a few minutes to get the inkwell cleaned up after that, Dewey watching with bemusement as the lankier wolf wiped his face and hands down with a wet napkin. Buddy ended up getting very much the same treatment from Tom, the tiny toon squirming a little under the stockier wolf's attention. Boris couldn't help a brief worry that Tom's mechanical arm would get in the way, but he seemed to have no trouble in balancing the defter work of cleaning up the comparatively smaller toon devil while also actually making some headway on the more stubborn patches of syrup.
Before long the pancakes were gone, and a new distraction was presented to the toons in the form of a box on a rolling-cart. Boris was somewhat floored to learn that this was called a "television", and it was kind of like the big theater room back in the studio.
Perhaps he shouldn't have been so surprised, after all, it had been thirty years, and plenty could have changed in that time. Though as Boris thought of that, he couldn't help a slight shiver of what could have been nerves or just plain fear, and eased himself away from any thoughts about the passage of time for now. Maybe he'd think on it later, but not now…
And the presentation of the TV, along with a smattering of what were called "video cassettes", certainly helped, the toons quickly growing absorbed in the pictures they saw on the covers. There was one with a bunch of people and a brown dog on the front, another with different trio of people and a car with eyes (Boris felt a little nervous looking at this one too, though he forcibly steered himself away from thinking too deeply on the why of that), and a final one with about three more people, their dog, a cat, and a person in white that seemed like he was supposed to be a ghost…but he actually looked friendly?
At the very least, he didn't look scary. Boris remembered the few times when they saw ghosts in the shorts, they were usually meant to be scary, something for the toons to have to go up against and overcome, not so much befriend. A part of the lanky wolf was wary, but also curious. What would a friendly ghost be like?
Though Boris stood back as the younger toons peered at the different tapes, Tom more staying to the side as well though he paid attention as Buddy and Dewey looked everything over. Buddy seemed to also be eying the one with the ghost, but when Dewey pointed out the one with the brown dog the tiny toon readily latched onto that one as well. It took a moment to figure out how the tape was supposed to fit into the player, but Tom did it and made sure the others all knew how, within a few minutes.
Honestly, when considering the opening of the show, Boris was half-worried that someone had made a mistake giving them this tape. But when the cheerier, bouncier part of the song picked up he quickly found himself a little dazzled by the whirling contrasts of color mixed with movement. It looked so much…well, he didn't want to say better, that would have felt unkind, but maybe the word he was looking for was…detailed? Colorful definitely, the characters of Scooby Doo and his friends popping off the screen as they ran from monsters. It seemed like in an eyeblink the whole opening was over, flipping to a title card that Boris didn't have time to read but gave him some hint of what the episode would be about given the picture of a knight.
The opening scene also felt like being blatted straight in the face, but in a good way. Immediately Boris, along with the other toons, was thrown into a conversation between Scooby and his friend in a green shirt. For the lankier wolf the most surprising thing about it was the fact that Scooby could talk. In a somewhat garbled way, but he could.
When the other characters came in, a name quickly came in short order, Green-Shirt being introduced as Shaggy, and also bringing in the knight from the title card. Who was introduced having somehow gotten from a crate in the back of a truck to the driver's seat of said truck. The very next scene mentioned a legend about the armor coming to life during full moons, Boris's head tilting curiously at that. Though he didn't realize it, Dewey and Buddy looked at and copied the lankier wolf, though in the inkwell's case it involved a more full-body lean as his eyes squinted at the screen.
The sight made Tom snort, the noise catching the other three off-guard and making them look at the other wolf in surprise. Not that Tom was willing to explain what he'd found so funny, instead waving off their attention and redirecting their attention back to the cartoon. By that point, the group had come back to the museum where they'd dropped off the armor, intending to look for a missing professor that had been supposed to be with the knight before he'd disappeared. There were definitely a few moments designed just to get the viewer's attention, like the fact that there were moving eyes behind a mask set up as a display. That had been the part where Dewey gasped, pointing at the screen and looking to Boris, Buddy, and Tom with a childlike air of did you guys SEE THAT?!
"I know, right?" Boris whispered with a grin, Dewey giving his own form of an enthusiastic nod before his eyes re-riveted themselves to the screen. The group followed along with the gang, watching as they tried to piece together what was happening. There were clues being offered, in the form of a picture missing and then reappearing on the wall, but what seemed infinitely more concerning was the fact that the Black Knight had come alive and was stalking the group throughout the halls of the museum. The toons watched with increasing rapture as the story developed, the Knight growing more and more aggressive the closer the group came to solving the mystery.
Eventually it ended in them getting chased into a room with old airplanes, Boris watching with curiosity as Shaggy was able to fool the Knight into leaving the room due to something he called "ventriloquism". Though things quickly went sideways when they accidentally managed to start the plane they were hiding in. That ended in the plane crashing, which ended in the Knight actually being revealed as the curator, who was apparently making fakes of the various art pieces around the museum. The missing professor was later found when Scooby Doo happened to find the man's shoe near the mask that they'd seen "looking" at everyone before.
There was a part of Boris that was reeling a little from the "short", though really it seemed like it was a lot longer than the shorts the studio used to make. Were people able to make longer shorts now? Henry and Bendy would…
Thankfully for the wolf's down-turning mood, a new round of opening credits started playing, apparently this was more than one cartoon. Though before it could go all the way through, Tom reached clambered over and paused it.
"Are we sure we wanna keep watching this one, or do you guys wanna try the other ones? That one was almost an hour."
Oh geez, had it been an hour? Boris glanced around to see where Tom had apparently spotted a clock, the stockier wolf eventually taking pity on his lankier counterpart and gesturing to the machine they'd used to play the video. Turned out there was a clock, and, well, it looked more like a half of an hour had passed, but it was still no small amount of time.
And besides, Boris was curious about the other tapes, Buddy too given how the tiny devil had scooted back in the direction of the remaining cassettes. He seemed to waffle between the pair before making some decision and handing Tom one of them, the stockier wolf taking that and beginning to press a few buttons on the machine.
"What're you doin'?" Boris asked, Dewey making a reciprocating curious noise as he also stared at Tom's efforts.
"Rewinding the tape. They said that was important if we're gonna play more than one."
Oh, had they said that? Boris couldn't help conceding with a somewhat embarrassed flush that they might've, he'd just been more distracted by them bringing the tapes and TV in to really pay attention. He'd have to work on that.
Maybe he could get Tom to show him how to do it, though for the moment it looked like the other wolf had already finished, getting the Scooby-Doo tape back and putting in the one Buddy had handed him.
It wasn't until the opening bit started to play that Boris realized what Buddy had picked. This show was fairly different from the first, starting with a flare of bright colors, and the immediate introduction of the living car, Speed Buggy. Even though Boris could immediately see some differences between the cartoon and, and another cartoon car, he couldn't help tensing a little. Especially given that the opening didn't really have music, per say, it was kind of just a bombardment of color, sound, and visuals from the show. It was a little surreal to see the car and his friends contend with what looked like mad scientists, robots, and giant animals, but mostly the focus seemed to be on the fact that Speed Buggy was a race car.
The episode itself started with the main characters in a race, the mechanic having just finished checking the car before they started. The apparent prize was a solid gold trophy, and predictably enough it was a prize everyone was interested in. Though there was some kind of flying thing that looked like it was going to be a problem, especially since they looked to be doing something to the cars themselves. Boris was confused by it at first, at least until he heard the girl, Debbie, mention that it was called a blimp.
But the earlier threat definitely came back with a vengeance, as the blimp had something under it that was causing the cars to go haywire. The toons, particularly the younger pair, watched with bated breath as one by one the cars were forced off the track. And in the case of Speed Buggy, sent careening towards a cliff.
A brief spot of hope came in the form of Speed Buggy actually flapping part of his fenders to stay in the air, though the blimp and its weird ray were still around, and more than able to take another shot.
At the sight of the little car falling, Boris's hands began to move. He didn't even realize he was yanking on his fur again until a pain radiated from the inside of his elbow. At his movement Tom also looked over, easily spotting the manner in which the lankier wolf was grabbing at his fur and quickly reaching to pry his hand away.
"C'mere," the stockier wolf murmured, pulling Boris to lean into his side, and keeping his hand over Boris's to keep them still. Though by that point Speed Buggy had avoided danger, using his own tires as a cushion to block the fall.
While Buddy glanced back at the first hint of noise, the cartoon playing on and revealing another plot twist in the form of Speed Buggy and his friends finding where the blimp was hiding quickly grabbed the tiny devil's attention. Boris couldn't help a sigh of relief, even as he quickly became engrossed in what was happening next.
The girl, Debbie, made the suggestion to go down into the cave to find out where the blimp had gone, though when presented with the problem of how the last member of their party could find them she also suggested the Speed Buggy leave a trail of parts.
"Bad idea…" Tom hummed, Boris briefly trying to look the other wolf in the face to figure out what he meant by that but, well, it didn't take long for that to set in. Especially when, after going down into the base, Speed Buggy started to slow down as a result of having dumped important parts. Thankfully their friend was able to find them, but it definitely looked like the plan had backfired a bit.
"Told'ya." Came the one-armed wolf's snarky reply, Boris unable to keep a reciprocating smile off his face at the rougher warmth in Tom's tone. And it wasn't like Speed Buggy was left down for long, as they could apparently just throw what was needed back under the hood. Tom made a slightly disbelieving noise at that one but refrained from commenting.
Besides, the cartoon moved on pretty quickly from that, as it turned out that the underground cavern was very much occupied and the occupants did not like visitors. Speed Buggy and his friends were embroiled in a chase that went into some kind of facility, where they were temporarily trapped until they managed to use Speed Buggy's fanbelt to pull the bars off the window. The chase following that was quick, the group managing to slip into a storage area with the people getting uniforms to hide with and Speed Buggy hiding in the storage room under a tarp. That let them listen in on a meeting where the apparent head of the whole operation explained precisely what he wanted to do with the ray he'd been messing around with earlier.
Though the real harrowing thing was when the gang was discovered, leading to another chase that took them into the actual factory. That led them to the upper level, where they discovered that the person running the whole operation was actually the same person that had organized the race. Boris could hear Dewey gasping a little at that one, and judging from the small start that Buddy made he hadn't been entirely expecting it either.
They were able to escape, eventually getting to the blimp and using it against the villain, pulling his whole operation down around his ears and even snagging his car with the ray itself.
"So, we wanna watch the last one?" Tom asked, gently nudging Boris away so he could get up and go to rewind the tape.
"Okay!" Dewey chimed in, Buddy nodding rapidly as he hurried to get it. Before Boris knew it, Speed Buggy's tape was swapped for the last of the three. It was the cartoon about the ghost, if he remembered right.
The Funky Phantom, as it turned out, also had its own jingle, Boris's ears perking up at the jaunty beat. Though in this case, it told the story of how the three people, two boys, one girl, and their dog, found the ghost. Apparently they'd gone into a house to avoid a storm, when they'd spotted an old grandfather clock and put the hands at twelve. Which released the ghost, who called himself "The Spirit of 1776", and the ghost of his cat, appropriately named Boo. Boris couldn't help a slight smile as he took in the ghost's friendly demeanor, even if he was dressed a little oddly. Then again, he was from a different time, right?
The thought did make a somewhat sympathetic ache start up in Boris's chest, though the feeling was quickly swept away by the plot itself, starting with the kids and their ghost driving along a road into what looked like a small town. Though, given that it was close to nightfall, the group asked a local at the gas station if there was a place they could spend the night.
But the man they were talking to was quick to say that they should not stay at all, citing there being some sort of creature in the nearby lake that was scaring everyone away. In fact, as they were talking, a bunch of strange noises started to come from the lake, startling the poor local into leaving right then and there. With nothing else better to do, the group went on a road that ran alongside the lake, and caught sight of the apparent sea monster surfacing for a moment near the road.
The gang didn't waste much time forming a plan, resolving to come back in the morning to actually rent a boat and sail on the lake, a brave endeavor as far as Boris was concerned. They didn't get much resistance, but the man running the boathouse had more stories about the monster, even a picture. Though he was quick to reiterate that they should stay away, and following a meeting with a man named Wehrmacht, Boris had the sneaking suspicion that there was a little more to the whole thing that met the eye.
Though the monster didn't make an appearance during the day, the gang made another discovery while fishing in the form of a cable that was going along the bottom of the lake. That prompted the girl, April, creating the plan that they would come back at night for another look, that definitely yielding some fruit in that the monster actually did appear this time. The gang had to make a speedy getaway, the ghost, Mudsy, making an appearance and scaring the monster away.
The gang was able to make it back to shore, Wehrmacht making his first appearance to them. They all pretty quickly decided that he was likely connected to what was going on, though when the dog, Elmo, was chased onto Wehrmacht's property the group took that as their cue to look around. Boris, for his part, would have been far happier leaving, even if curiosity was beckoning somewhat.
Things quickly got interesting there too, when it turned out that Wehrmacht's security included a living gargoyle that was chasing two of the group, April and another guy named Augie, around the property, Mudsy and the last, Skip, showing up for a last-minute rescue. That ended with the latter two being shut in the basement, though thankfully they were able to make it down to what looked like a small cove on the property that looked out on the lake, complete with boats to make a quick getaway.
Though of course the sea monster had to show up, that turning the rescue into a rapid retreat, with Mudsy riding on a section of the dock that had been accidentally pulled loose. Boris registered a pair of gasps from Dewey and Buddy at the spectacle, though what no one noticed was the fact that Buddy…wasn't immediately looking at the screen. Instead, the tiny devil's blue eyes seemed to be drawn somewhere to the left of it, though after a moment his attention re-riveted to the cartoon, and maybe glanced to that side again from time to time.
The cartoon eventually wrapped itself up with Skip and Mudsy preparing for one last showdown with the sea monster, going to meet it on the lake and through a series of hijinks they revealed that the "monster" was in fact a balloon that had been made scarier with the presence of a tape recorder to play the sound of the creature's roar.
Things quickly fell apart in short order after that, Wehrmacht being rightly singled out as the culprit for all the strange goings-on. However, he cited his reasoning for the trouble being that he wanted to keep the people of the town from polluting the lake, and the gang offered to do some sort of clean-up in order to help out.
With that, the episode was done, Tom getting up for the final time to rewind that tape and take it out of the player. As it turned out, that was also the cue for lunch to be brought in, the quartet somewhat mulling over their sandwiches before digging in.
On the sly, Buddy threw another look at the far corner of the room, though as to what he was seeing, he seemed to make a decision of his own, and kept quiet.
It was a strange thing, to realize just how in pain you'd been before simply because the pain was now absent. For Henry, coming up from the black was, oddly something of a relief. For starters, while he could definitely say he was sore, it was leagues away from the fairly constant ache his body had been in for the past twenty-odd years. He was also noticing a distinct lack of ink covering his person, and oddly enough it was so overwhelming that his system nearly grayed right back out again. Funny how while he'd had no love for the painful ooze, not having it now made everything feel almost too sharp, too much.
But thankfully what the artist rested on, and what he was wrapped in, felt like a bed with blankets. Which briefly caught his groggy mind for a moment, turning over that sensation of actually resting in a bed and finding it downright wondrous. Definitely not something he'd be taking for granted ever again, that was for sure.
There was also noise, Henry's mind fighting its way to full consciousness as he tried to parse through it. It sounded like, talking, music? Was someone playing a radio?
However, as Henry tried to fully wake up, he found that he couldn't even open his eyes. Because they were bandaged, what was wrong with his eyes?! Despite the fact that the movement caused faint aches to twinge through his hands, Henry tried to lift his hand to feel out the covering, frowning at the slight chill he could feel over his face. Why was it like that, the rest of the room felt normal…?
It wasn't until the animator registered his name being spoken that he realized that the chatter he'd been hearing before had faded down to silence, before a familiar voice suddenly cried out,
"HENRY!"
The exuberant shout was followed by a clatter and a worrying thud, causing the man to give his best effort at a jolt as he tried to sit up. It didn't exactly lift him off the pillow or bed he was on, but he found he could talk, albeit with a slight creakiness to his voice…
"Boris—?"
"H-Henry, 'm comin'—!" The somewhat breathy but no less elated tone was joined by the sounds of hurried shuffling, the cause rushing to stand right next to Henry. Reaching out in that direction, the animator was rewarded by the feeling of his hands being carefully grabbed by a familiar set of trembling, long-fingered gloves.
"Boris?" Henry managed to get in, right before a dam broke and sent words flooding from the wolf.
"I-I tried t'keep everythin' t'gether while y'were sleepin', really I did! I-I talked t'th' doctors an' listened when they were tellin' me things about, about makin' sure your I-IV was okay, an' takin' care a'Buddy an' th' others 'cause, 'cause no one really knew what t'do…" As Boris's voice started to trail off, Henry registered the faint crackling edges to the wolf's timbre, his suspicions only confirmed when he was able to lift his arm completely and press a hand to the canid face. The forming tear tracks were enough of a sign that Boris was growing overwrought, but at the feel of the animator's hand, the wolf gave a watery sigh and leaned in.
His hand felt, a little off, and was definitely bandaged, but Henry still tried to card gently through the fur around Boris's ears, murmuring softly as he did.
"It's alright, Boris, it's alright. I'm here. Thank you for doing that…"
"…Should we get the doctor?" Someone spoke up from close by, Henry not recognizing the voice. It sounded, young-ish, more like a younger man or a teenager, maybe a little rough? But it wasn't anyone he recognized…
"M-Maybe." Boris spoke up, voice still a little wobbly but the fact that he was responding and sounding not bothered or rushed did make Henry wonder just who it was in the room with them.
Actually, who else might've been in the room with them, as he was hearing shifting coming from a few slightly different directions. Whoever they were, they seemed to be closer together, and maybe one might've been bigger than the other, but the sounds were muffled, or softer. It was hard to tell.
"Henry…?" A much deeper voice spoke up, hushed and slightly afraid in tenor. Still no one he recognized, but apparently Boris did, the wolf drawing back a little to speak up.
"Y-Yeah, Dewey, Henry's awake. Henry's awake."
The words were met by a softer hum of acknowledgement, "Dewey" apparently content with that, though Henry couldn't help the nagging feeling that the name itself was a familiar one. Was it someone from the studio? Someone he'd worked with?
The sound more shifting caught Henry's attention, someone apparently getting up or moving around, before the source came to stand next to the bed.
"You're gonna use the button?" Boris asked, a slight huff of what might've been amusement coming back in response.
"They did say we should if somethin' happens. I'm countin' this as somethin'."
And now Henry just had more questions, though it took him an embarrassingly long moment to remember that he could actually give voice to some of them now.
"Boris," he started, wondering where precisely to start before just picking the immediate conundrum on his mind. "Who told you to use the button?
"The doctor did. Dr. Sommer. She's really aces, Henry, she's been helpin' us!" The wolf's explanation was, well, both illuminating and not. They were in a hospital, with doctors? What happened after they'd gotten out? Though Henry supposed that would explain why he was in a bed, and why he could hear something softly beeping over his head. There was also something attached to his arm, now that he really took stock, and while the immediate impulse was to remove it, a part of the artist said to hold off. Especially given that he did have a fairly urgent question to ask…
"Okay. And, who just pushed the button?"
"Tom did. He's right here, Henry. An' Buddy an' Dewey are right there, an' so's Bendy. Alice is here too, but, but she an' Bendy aren't awake yet." Boris's words and tone had begun to drag at the mention of Bendy's name, but he'd all but started whispering at the admittance that neither Bendy nor Alice were actually awake. There was some worry at that, but, well, apparently a doctor was coming, so maybe there'd be more answers on that front. Especially since from the sounds of things Boris only had so much information, and Henry knew he didn't want to further upset the poor wolf, it sounded like he'd had quite enough to deal with already. Lifting his hand, Henry was somewhat relieved when Boris took the hint and grasped it.
"It's alright, just let me know when the doctor comes in, okay?" And, seeing as he had been noticing an odd sound on the periphery of his hearing for a few minutes now… "Also, there's a sound, a kind of whirring, what is that?"
"We were watchin' some shorts, there's this one called Scooby-Doo, it's a cartoon 'bout a bunch'a kids an' their dog. They solve mysteries an' stuff, we can show y'later if you like, Henry." Boris's tone was still somewhat subdued, but the new topic had injected some pep back into the wolf. Henry could just hear the faint, somewhat telltale rustle of a tail wagging, the sound causing a wane, but present smile to form on the artist's face as he answered.
"I'd like that, thanks, Boris—" The sound of a door opening cut Henry off, the artist flipping entirely to the act of listening as he tried to figure out what was happening. Apart from the whirring, which had stopped, that odd, rhythmic beeping, and the occasional shifting around, the room was fairly quiet. Who had just come in?
But Boris thankfully didn't leave Henry in suspense for too long, the wolf turning away a little to call out to the newcomer.
"Dr. Sommer, Henry's awake!"
Wow, that was fast, Henry couldn't help thinking, listening carefully as the footsteps of Dr. Sommer came around to his bed. He couldn't help noticing that she didn't go directly from the door, instead coming more along the side of the room.
"He is?" Her voice sounded close enough, Henry figuring that he better try to make her acquaintance now, even if he couldn't rightly see her.
"Hello. It's, it's good to meet you." His words were definitely a little rougher than Henry would have liked, and he wasn't sure if he ought to try shaking her hand or just stay quiet and stationary on the bed. While he had something of an idea as to where she was, he didn't want to go for the handshake and accidentally end up smacking into something or her. Not to mention, his hands felt like they were rather heavily bandaged too, and even with the relatively minor movement from before Henry could feel pained twinges starting up.
"It's good to meet you too." Her voice was warm, not giving away that there was anything wrong with the situation, but given his limited perceptions, Henry couldn't help the fleeting thought that there was some unpleasantness he'd still have to confront. Maybe not now, but soon enough.
"I feel like this is going to be a question you'll be tired of eventually, but how are you feeling? Is there pain, numbness…?" The doctor's words had the artist taking stock of his physical health in a more all-encompassing sense. Especially since, well, if there were any issues, it would be best to make sure they were known now…
"No, no numbness, I w-would say that, everything feels sore. My legs don't, they don't feel right, but I can feel them." Meaning they likely weren't paralyzed, or at least Henry hoped they weren't. He didn't think he'd be able to get away with dragging himself around like he had before in the studio. Briefly he recalled the notion of polio, there had been outbreaks last he'd heard, and he knew one of the side effects was paralysis. Paralysis usually entailed not being able to feel a limb at all, right?
"When you say your legs don't feel 'right', can you describe that a little more?"
A fair enough question, Henry thinking and taking stock for another moment before he continued.
"It's, it doesn't feel like they're able to work. My arms, they hurt but I feel like I can use them, my legs, it doesn't feel like they'd hold me." He hoped that was descriptive enough, and that his legs weren't entirely a lost cause. Though Henry did think, in his heart of hearts, that if losing his legs was what it took to get them all out of the studio then it'd be a price he'd pay.
He just, wanted to be sure that that was actually an issue, and not just something temporary.
"It did seem like you were suffering from muscular atrophy in your legs, so that likely explains this weakness you're describing. We can try to correct it with physical therapy, allow you to work to gain some muscle back over time. Hopefully, you'll be able to use your legs, but if not we can find alternatives." The words were delivered in a slow, more explanatory kind of way, Henry easily grasping what she was saying, wondering if she might have been keeping her tone the way it was for the toons that were probably listening in. "If you're feeling up to it, we can conduct a rudimentary examination."
Examination. The word was innocent enough, and appropriate given the setting, but for the moment the thought of someone poking at him while he was lying flat on a surface, unable to see and predict what might be coming, only reminded Henry of another place, another time.
…And the feeling of ink splitting apart his skin.
"…I, I would rather be able to see. Before we do anything." He finally stammered out, hoping he didn't sound too rattled as he all but dragged his mind away from the recollection. He didn't want to think about that, not now.
Probably not for a long while, though thankfully the doctor seemed accepting of his answer, and moved on.
"Alright, we can check how your eyes are, and depending on how they look we can take the compress off."
That was something Henry would be more than glad to do, even as he wondered if it might be presumptuous to think that his eyes would be completely healed right away. Hopefully they'd just need a little time before getting back to normal, there certainly wouldn't be any cutouts out here he could use to look through.
And he'd need to be able to see, especially given that the toons likely would understand only so much of what was going on. If there were any advantages Henry could gain, he wanted to be sure he had them.
But before any action could be taken regarding his eyes, Henry's ears caught a slight shuffling off to the side as well as a hiss of pain. Thankfully though he didn't have to ask any questions; the doctor did it for him, homing in on the toon that had made the sound.
"Boris, are you alright?"
"Boris?" 'Dewey' spoke up, deeper voice humming with worry as he seemed to shuffle around to, maybe to get closer.
"I, I'm okay, really!" The wolf spoke up, though Henry had the feeling from the tenor of the lanky toon's voice that he wasn't being entirely truthful. And luckily he wasn't the only one to notice, Tom speaking up next.
"You did fall goin' to Henry b'fore. You sure you're okay?"
"Y-Yeah, I, I mean I landed on my side but it's just a lil' sore, I'm okay, really."
"We can take a look at that too, Boris. What did you land on?" Dr. Sommer spoke up, having turned away from Henry. Not that he was really bothered by that, his eyes could wait a few minutes.
"M'- My side, an' leg a lil'. It happens sometimes when I go too fast, I bump into things, I'm sore for a bit an' then it goes away." It was a little shamefacedly admitted, not that Henry could hold that against Boris. Back in the studio, the wolf had only been around for about five years, maybe a little under that. While Joey had said that the toons didn't need the same level of attention and care that human children did, Henry saw plenty of evidence that they did need at least some. Namely in that they were pretty apt to be about as physically coordinated as any child, though it did get better over time.
Boris though had still had moments where he'd be a little less coordinated, much like any child. It might've just been a little worse, and more noticeable, given that the wolf was closer to six feet and not below Henry's waist like a typical five-year-old would be.
Though Boris definitely was a fair bit above a five-year-old in terms of speaking and general understanding of things, maybe Henry was being a little too close-minded. Besides, They had said that while the toons' biology and development did mirror a human's, it was not an exact match. Given the circumstances They had talked about certain aspects of the toons sparingly, but that had definitely come up, especially considering that Joey had taken no interest in it.
"Will you be needing ink, or do you want some ice?" Dr. Sommer was saying, Henry snapping out of his thoughts to listen. He was just in time to hear Boris's more quieter response.
"I, I don' think I'll need ink, an' won't Henry need ice, maybe? For his eyes?"
"It's alright, Boris. Think there's plenty to go around." Henry spoke up before he realized, a fond smile pulling at his face. Leave it to the kindhearted wolf to put others over himself, though, well, Henry was hoping that his eyes wouldn't be needing any more ice, at least not for a long time.
"There is, and we can get more if Henry needs it." Dr. Sommer's words finally mollified the last of the worry Boris had, the next few minutes consisting of him accepting the ice pack and lying down on his cot. That taken care of, Henry's eyes became the next order of business. The former animator found himself bracing a little as Dr. Sommer's lighter touch ghosted over his face, carefully detaching the compress from where it had been wrapped. There was a slight ripping noise as the apparatus was removed, though Henry quickly registered the difference in terms of pressure and temperature.
"Do you want to try opening them?" Dr. Sommer's words were that same calm and measured tone, though a little hushed as though she could figure just how much of a momentous thing this was for her patient. Henry, for his part, couldn't help a brief flutter of nerves, holding in a breath as he carefully opened his eyes.
The flood of colors and shapes were dizzying at first, Henry blinking hard as he both tried to make sense of what he was seeing and keep the whole thing from becoming too overwhelming. The fact that the hospital, the hospital room, was definitely far brighter than the studio also had a pained grunt rattling its way loose from Henry's vocal chords.
"Henry?" Boris spoke up, a rustling hinting that the wolf was trying to move around, though Dr. Sommer quickly cut in.
"Can someone close the curtains, please? And maybe turn down the lights?"
It did do the trick, the brightness cutting down enough that Henry felt better actually trying to look around. The walls looked like they were a sort of off-white, tiled, and as Henry let his head swing to the right he took in a little more about the space. He was on the far side of the room, it seemed, and the rest of the space was taken up by more cots and beds.
There was a person standing right next to his bedside, Henry taking in what he could as his eyes attempted to focus. She looked, maybe a little younger than him? Still in her twenties, maybe thirties. Her dark hair was carefully pinned back, brown eyes studying the animator with equal care as she watched him look around. Movement in front of the cot also drew Henry's eyes to…that likely was Tom. Or at least he hoped so, given that last he checked, Boris had both of his arms and was significantly less scarred. The other wolf also was more thickset than Boris, Boris's build often reminding Henry of someone who might've had a good run as a swimmer. Tom looked more like someone that might've had a living working with their hands, though as he made note of that Henry also noticed that the stockier wolf's eyes were keenly watching him, hinting at the observant and quick mind ticking away behind them.
Then again if Tom had been surviving in the studio for as long as he had, even with help, he likely was no slouch when it came to rolling with the punches. Though that thought also reminded Henry of the fact that Tom had spent his entire life up until now in the studio, the ex-animator fighting back a flinch at the idea of a toon not that much different from Bendy, Boris, or Alice knowing only that from the moment they opened their eyes.
But there wasn't anything he could really do about that in the here and now, so Henry nudged the thought to the side. Especially seeing as he spotted something moving behind the young woman, his gaze going in that direction and catching sight of a toon he'd frankly never seen before.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. While the eyes staring back at him were completely unfamiliar, there was a part of Henry that couldn't help recognizing parts of the design. But before he could think more on it the lady, the doctor, he mentally corrected, started to talk.
"How are you feeling? Is your vision blurry, do you still have a headache?"
"It's not, not blurry." Henry spoke up, adding in the second part when he realized that perhaps he ought to clarify. "There's a slight headache, but I think it's just kind of a part of everything else right now."
"We could maybe try a painkiller if you like?" She offered, Henry internally turning over the merits though he couldn't help having the somewhat prevalent thought that taking a painkiller might end with him being passed out again, for an indeterminate amount of time. And besides, the pain wasn't awful, especially when compared to the pulsating hell he'd been through before with the ink.
"No, no. I'm alright for now."
"Alright, but if the pain grows worse, please tell me and we can try a few options. Is it alright if I check your vitals? We do have the heart monitor attached, though I want to be sure your airway and lungs are clear."
Ah, the beeping thing he'd been hearing earlier, though Henry couldn't help being somewhat stuck on the second half of what she'd said. Checking his vitals, not an out and out exam, though it wasn't far from one. Still, Henry couldn't help ruminating that if there was likely to be an issue, he'd be better off knowing about it now.
Even still, the feeling of the stethoscope pressing against his chest, close to the center, was a harrowing sensation, the only thing mitigating it being that Henry happened to look off to the side and see Boris partially lying on a nearby cot. The wolf was carefully watching the proceedings, ears low and expression more than a little worried, though as he made eye contact with Henry he couldn't help a slight jolt before giving a shy smile. Henry tried his best to smile back, though the moment was somewhat taken up by the check shifting to a light shining down his throat. There was a long moment of quiet, though the doctor pulled away with a calm smile and what sounded like a fairly positive report.
"Looks a little irritated, but it has improved since you first came in."
"That's good to hear." The words garnered a smile, something Henry couldn't help returning a little in a reciprocal twitch. He could also spot Boris relaxing, Tom's expression also clearing from where he'd parked himself next to his fellow wolf. There was a slight shifting from the other toon's direction but where the doctor was standing didn't allow for Henry to get a good look.
Though, now that his eyes were uncovered, Henry's gaze happened to catch the current state of his own hands. It was funny in retrospect, a joke that had gone round the studio back in the day was that the artists needed to take good care of their hands, and therefore avoid a lot of the more dangerous activity with the various installations in the studio. Henry wasn't even sure who started it, but he had a distinct memory of someone pointing at him and saying well, then we really gotta watch out for Henry! Something happens to him and we're all sunk!
Still somewhat funny looking back on it, though with the sheer amount of dragging himself through the studio, blindly feeling around in the fairly inhospitable environments of ink, broken down machinery, and falling-apart rooms, Henry couldn't help wondering if the joke had taken on a more bittersweet tone. Especially since his own hands were now entombed in bandages, running from just under his elbows all the way down to his fingers. There was also something stuck in the crook of his right arm, that getting a blearily quizzical look, though he was spared from thinking into it too much as the doctor spoke up again.
"Yes, we probably have to change those bandages. You had some signs of skin irritation, and potential overstrain, though that might have been due to the dehydration."
Yeah, when your body was overrun with enchanted ink, water likely wasn't high on its list of priorities, though Henry kept that thought to himself. The next few minutes passed in a sort of blur, the artist more or less flying through the act of meeting another man, a nurse by the name of Lucio that the toons had reacted positively to, apparently he'd been bringing them things. Things like books, art supplies, even movies, that being when Henry was informed that the weird box across the room was apparently a portable theater.
The bandages also came off for a bit, Henry passively taking in the state of the skin underneath. They were definitely fairly red, even with the pale pallor that had overtaken most of his complexion. Seeing the reddened skin though, and the black scars that laced over his arms, made the feelings of discomfort and pain make a lot more sense, and to some degree did accentuate what was already there.
It might have been a more psychosomatic thing though, especially since looking away and keeping his arms still did keep the feelings from growing too overwhelming. He was still hoping to avoid needing painkillers if possible, at least until he could figure what the overall status of the others was. Boris, Tom, and the new toon seemed to be okay, but what about Bendy, Alice? And there had been the small one, Bendy had called him Buddy, hadn't he?
Thankfully Henry managed to get an answer involving the smallest toon, as his eyes had managed to spot a bit of movement on the bigger toon's shoulder, and while he only had a partial memory of the little one, well, the tiny toon with the white moon-face and blue eyes seemed like a dead ringer. In that brief moment they managed to make eye contact, the minute devil's face gave a small but noticeable grin, Henry reciprocating it with a somewhat weaker one of his own.
The rest of the conversation dipped in and out of a blurred haze, Henry getting some sense that they'd be checking up on him fairly regularly, going to get him off the IV drip and onto fluids. Then onto physical therapy for his legs and arms, once they determined whether or not there was any permanent damage to the muscles, bones, etc.
It was important, though the artist could feel his mind softening the specifics, already wanting to move beyond the tedium of the individual steps to getting better. Even if there really wouldn't be much moving past them, insomuch as just dealing with them as they came.
Well, he'd do it, though right now, and the eventual prognosis was that he would get some time to settle in with the toons, as they'd all been worriedly watching and listening to the proceedings. Dr. Sommer and Lucio had answered what questions they could, though Henry could tell that some of the things either went over their heads, or were in the realm of 'a little too big or broad to really work with right now'. And in the case of Boris, and the larger toon, Dewey, it was only serving to make them more anxious, something that was quickly recognized and partially addressed with reassurances and explanations alike. Really though, all anyone could do was promise that Henry was going to get better. Even Henry himself couldn't do much in the here and now.
Apart from spending time with them, and perhaps addressing the change as best as anyone could. And, Henry couldn't help thinking as he felt more tired and worn out than he'd ever had, there had certainly been a lot of change.
Though there was something teasing at his mind, and he wanted an answer before he could really relax. He needed to know about Bendy and Alice, they were the only two he hadn't gotten some kind of read on as to how they were doing.
They were okay, right? They were here?
It was the first question Henry tried to ask, when Dr. Sommer and Lucio had stepped out and finally left them all alone for a bit. But, worryingly enough, Boris didn't seem to have an answer, at least not at first. At least, not until Henry was able to read into the look that the wolf was aiming at a spot next to his own bed.
Though at first, the artist wasn't quite sure what Boris was looking at, and it was a little arduous lifting himself up enough to look but he tried anyway. But there was a cot sitting between his and Boris's, Henry having more or less overlooked it given that it had been just a bit lower than his own bed, and the occupant in it being completely silent and still.
Seeing Bendy made the reality of the situation come crashing back in, Henry feeling something cold settle in his stomach at the sight of the little devil lying there.
It looked like he'd been hit in the face with how shadowed his eyes were, a bandage standing out against the short black fur covering his chest. Bendy's arms were lying at his sides, the fingers carefully bandaged, what did that maniac do to his hands…
"H-Henry?"
The hesitant call caught the animator's attention, his gaze tearing itself away from Bendy and looking to the source.
And he immediately locked eyes again with Boris, the wolf's ears low, shoulders hunched, and his posture huddled in on itself like he was fearing some physical attack. The fact that he was staring at Henry himself, and looking like this, definitely didn't feel right to notice.
It didn't take much for Henry to reach out, holding out his arms to the wolf as he spoke.
"Boris, c'mere."
It broke Henry's heart even more to see that the wolf was shaky on his feet as he walked, more collapsing to sit at Henry's bedside. In retrospect, he could have tried to just talk to Boris, diffused it from a distance, but for the moment he couldn't do anything other than wrap the poor toon in a hug. Boris stiffened a little at the touch, though it seemed like it was more out of surprise than any real repulsion.
"…H-Henry?" Boris whispered, not so afraid anymore, but definitely confused. Taking in a somewhat shaky breath of air, the animator did his best to gather himself before he answered.
"Boris, it's okay. You, you did a great job, alright? I couldn't be more proud of you. Remember that, okay?"
Boris's ears had lowered again throughout the wobbly speech, though Henry had the feeling it was less from fear now, and more from emotion. If he wasn't currently bedridden, the animator was sure that the wolf would have been squeezing him so much tighter. His thoughts about how Boris was reacting to this were all but confirmed when the wolf began to sob into his shoulder.
And Henry, well, paltry as it seemed the former animator simply held the wolf, rubbing circles into Boris's back and murmuring soothing nonsense. After everything, it was the least he could do for the poor toon. His poor toon.
The crying went on for a bit, Henry happening to tiredly glance over Boris and see that the sounds were teasing equal frowns and tears from the remaining three. Tom was looking at Boris's back, an exhausted, almost dead-eyed stare settling in on the other wolf's face before he caught Henry's gaze and looked away. Dewey though was more openly in tears, the inkwell's frame huddled in on itself slightly as a hand had come up to form a fist against his mouth.
But the smallest toon, Buddy, was a little more harder to read, at least until he screwed up his face into a determined frown and proceeded to clamber his way over to Henry's cot, latching onto Boris with the strongest hug his small frame could muster. The contact briefly made Boris jolt with a gasp, before he realized who it was and his face split with a recognizing, if still very wet, smile.
"O-Oh, hey, Bud." The wolf murmured, trying his best to wipe away the tears. Still, while he had withdrawn from Henry he was clearly loath to pull away entirely, leaning in the artist's direction with a hand closed carefully over one of Henry's arms. Glancing down at Boris's hand, Henry's expression grew clouded, before he tried to throw on an easy smile.
"Do you want to sit down here, Boris? I don't mind, we can figure something out."
The words definitely got the wolf's attention, though Boris's ears were still folded back, brows somewhat furrowed as he considered the situation Henry was in. All things considered, Henry wasn't too surprised when Boris pulled away a little at first, voice halting and unsure as he spoke up.
"Uh, I, I dunno, Henry, what about your, your IV? An' everything else, I don't wanna hurt you…"
"It's alright, Boris. It's alright. Do you want to sit down?"
There was a long hesitation before the wolf eventually nodded, looking about before Henry indicated that he could come around to the opposite side of the bed where the IV tube was not. Even still, Boris's movements were painfully careful, the lanky toon moving like he was in a minefield as he came around and clambered up to sit next to Henry on the bed. He ended up shifting a little so that his head was able to settle on the artist's shoulder, haltingly at first before Henry's hand came up to knead through the fur around his ears. It definitely said something that the wolf did not stay awake long, frame growing slacker and slacker before Henry felt a soft snore reverberate through the lanky toon's frame. With a sigh of his own, the artist let his head rest against Boris's, briefly taking solace in that feeling of warm fur pressing against his cheek.
Alive. Maybe not exactly well yet, but alive. They could work on well, but right now the fact that the wolf was alive after everything felt no less than miraculous.
In a way, it likely qualified as such, Henry's thoughts briefly turning to the supernatural force behind the studio, the one he'd been very well acquainted with, before a small movement over the mattress caught his attention.
And drew it to Buddy, the tiny toon having scooted off to the end of the bed when Boris had gotten up and was now inching warily forward again. The minute devil's blue eyes were looking between the now slumbering wolf and Henry himself, broadcasting an equal sense of curiosity and wariness.
The artist's equally blue eyes met Buddy's, a softer smile gently hastening the tiny toon closer until he was outright nudging his way under Henry's other hand. It was a partial mirror of the position Boris had taken up, the similarity making the smile grow fond and sad all at once.
But the sight of the tiny toon tucked under his hand, relatively calm and trusting, also caused a memory to bubble up from the recesses of Henry's mind where he'd tucked it away. Something that Joey had said as an argument for his whole…plan, during the intermittent moments where he'd deigned to say anything. Sometimes Henry wondered if the reason that Joey didn't tell anyone anything about his plans, at least not until they were in the throes of being unveiled, was because he knew people would point out all the holes in them. Or perhaps he did that because he knew that knowing what was coming gave people a chance of stopping it.
"I could give them a WORLD, Henry, a whole world where they would no longer have to hide. Where you could be just as you want to be, doing what you WANT. Isn't that better than just hiding, having to scrounge day after day for some form of peace?!"
Buddy shifted against Henry's side, drawing the animator out of his thoughts. The tiny toon was looking up at him, eyes searching the man's face as though he could hear the musings broiling around inside. In an effort to mollify the minute devil, Henry gently tousled the tuft of fur on Buddy's head.
You would have given us a world, alright. But only if we behaved how you wanted. Despite the sour thought, Henry couldn't help a smile as Buddy seemed to consider the contact for a moment before melting into it, practically flopping into Henry's side like an at-peace kitten.
A shifting from the foot of the bed drew Henry's eye to Dewey, the inkwell standing there like he wanted to get closer but he wasn't sure how to go about doing it. Dark hands fumbled in front of the bigger toon, clinking and clattering together like bottles as Dewey fidgeted. When he realized he had Henry's attention, the bigger toon couldn't keep himself from jolting a little before giving a nervous smile.
"It's okay, Dewey," Henry started, keeping his tone as easy and calm as he could. "Do you want to sit with me too?"
"Yes please." The inkwell hummed, body rocking in a nod. Though when it came to figuring out how to do that, Dewey froze a little, looking between Henry and the close proximity between the two beds. Then the inkwell's face took on a look of heavy concentration, Dewey carefully inching sideways until he deemed he was close enough and gingerly sitting down about level with Henry's shins.
"Good job." Henry said, the biggest toon giving a grin that looked like it belonged on someone that came up to the artist's knees. But, then again, Dewey had to be new, right? They would have told Henry about Dewey if the inkwell had been running around the studio during those thirty years. They'd definitely told Henry about Tom.
Which gave Henry some vaguely uncomfortable feelings as he couldn't help thinking over precisely when Dewey was likely made. Suffice to say, while they were only mere guesses, Henry didn't like the conclusions his mind was drawing.
There was also the distinct feeling the artist had that he'd seen Dewey's…design, perhaps, before. That he'd maybe drawn something very similar, though he was a little hesitant to simply state that They hadn't had a role in making Dewey the way he was.
Though, yeah, maybe it wasn't the best thing to think about this when the real, living thing was sitting right in front of him, glancing over and immediately getting this very big, very nervous smile when realizing that Henry was watching.
Well, he'd probably have to get used to having this one around too, wouldn't he? The thought brought a more casual, decidedly less intimidating note to the whole interaction. Even if Henry couldn't even walk at the moment, he could hold a conversation. Or, at the very least, ask a few questions.
"Has everything been okay for you, Dewey? Before I woke up?"
"Uh-huh!" The inkwell immediately said, though the fast response of a smile faded a bit as he seemed to think. "Well, I got bad-sick, flu-sick, that was not okay. But Boris 'n Tom, and Buddy have been here with me, so I wasn't alone! And th-they helped me, telling me what things were, an' Boris told me how to read! We read, read about Robin Hood, an' about stuff with homework a-and love and lots of other stuff!"
…Alright. He'd definitely need to ask about the 'getting sick' part. Especially since, as far as he knew, the toons could not catch human diseases due to being different in terms of internal makeup. However, They had readily informed him that the toons getting sick was more based on environmental factors, if they were able to get enough sleep, eating well, not in a place that was too hot or too cold. And this room seemed pretty good in terms of temperature, so it did leave a few possibilities open that Henry wasn't feeling very happy about. Still, he stowed his more ready sense of protective anger and instead kept up that sense of calm as he replied back.
"It definitely sounds like you've had an interesting time, and, I do just want to ask before I go on, are you feeling better? It can't have been fun being sick like that." Tom had shifted a little at his reply, Henry shooting a glance over in the other wolf's direction. It didn't seem like Tom had anything to add at the moment, but he had definitely gone from being more passive, seemingly trying to get some sleep, to slightly tensed, ears swiveled in the pair's direction. Though thankfully Dewey's brighter demeanor only wavered a little, the inkwell easily mollified by the artist's words as well as his tone.
"Mhm! I'm feeling better! Dr. Sommer gave us ink, an' she said that if we had any other problems, to tell her." Dewey's face furrowed a little, seeming to think over the moment. However, with how young-minded he was, that meant that the inkwell's thoughts rather rapidly became his words. "I think it might'a been because of the food. It was really salty, an' after we had it it made us sleepy. And when we woke up we weren't feeling good."
"And, the doctor said that if there were other problems, to call her?" Henry asked, more clarifying, Dewey answering with a nod. It didn't sound, or seem, like the doctor had much to do with the whole thing, but, well, Henry hadn't exactly had the best judgement when it came to people before. He'd have to keep an eye out, either way. What the world would think, or want to do, with living toons, Henry hardly knew. But he did know what he wanted, and to a degree what the toons needed. And that wasn't being poked and prodded at like science experiments.
Though that did bring something else to mind, the artist briefly steeling himself before he let fire with his question.
"Dewey, do you know if Alice is here? Or do they have her in a different room?"
Surprisingly enough Dewey wasn't the one to answer that, instead Tom sat up and immediately spoke up.
"She's here. They put her in the bed over here." The stockier wolf got to his feet, Henry straining a little to follow the lupine toon's path over to another bed that had been tucked away on the far side of the room. The artist couldn't move as much as he wanted, at least not without displacing Boris, but he was able to spot a pair of legs covered by blankets, and somewhat familiar, pale white arms. He couldn't see the head, or the face, but that particular skin color was more than enough of a confirmation.
"…How is she?"
"Sleeping. Like Bendy. She slept the whole way here. Bendy woke up a few times though, she hasn't. She's, breathin', but that's about it."
It, very much looked like that was the case, the ailing artist letting his head drop back onto his pillow as he thought about what he remembered from the studio. They had said that Joey both did and didn't care so much for the other toons, at least not as much as he did Bendy. And that really wasn't saying much, as he clearly didn't care much for the little devil's actual personality. Instead, his 'caring' seemed to fit more into the bounds of an ideation, an obsession that did not hold up to reality.
And, well, Henry knew firsthand what happened to things when they didn't hold up to Joey's idea of what reality should be. A part of him couldn't help kicking himself, and probably would be doing so for a long time, that he'd allowed Joey to go on for as long as he did. But, well, by the time he'd realized how bad things had gotten…
"And how are you doing, Tom?" Henry finally asked, his eyes trailing to the canid toon that was almost a mirror image of the one now nestled against his side. Almost, if it weren't for the more solid build, mechanical arm, and suggestions of scars poking through his monochrome fur.
And a somewhat tattered ear, Henry noticing the difference with a heavy heart as his eyes met Tom's. The wolf toon simply stared him down with a look that spoke of emptiness, not anger, worry, nor upset, but only sheer exhaustion and a dull sort of apathy that hinted at wounds running far deeper than just the skin.
Tom, for his part, didn't say a word. Just stared at the artist for a moment before giving a shrug.
"Yeah, I get that." Henry softly replied in the silence, before returning his attention back to the inkwell still sitting at the edge of his bed, watching the interaction with wide eyes that both understood, and kind of didn't. Though there was a thought that the youngest toon would likely need a lot of help Henry pushed past it to keep the conversation going, and hopefully take some of the nervousness down a little. "And, Dewey, sorry, did anything else happen?"
"There was a lady that came to talk to us, her name was Mrs. Liddel. I didn't like that."
"Why?"
"She talked about the bad. And Boris, Boris got…" Dewey didn't seem to quite know how to express what he'd seen, at least not verbally. But Henry was able to figure it out easily enough when the inkwell toon traced a line down from one of his eyes in a mimicry of tears. Before Henry realized it his hand was curling tighter over the wolf's fur, the artist eventually managing to turn the movement into a careful kneading around Boris's ears.
"Boris got upset." Henry finally said, Dewey rocking his upper body in an approximation of a nod as he replied.
"Boris got upset."
"Did you get upset?" The question was a fair enough one in Henry's mind, but Dewey didn't seem to have considered his own emotions much in the grand scheme of things. His expression was surprised at first, then thoughtful as his attention turned inward.
"A-A little? I didn't, didn't…" At this, the inkwell began to physically fumble as well as verbally, his hands flicking and grasping in front of him like the words were there, but couldn't be wrangled into speech. It was a fair thing, given his apparent age, and Henry did his best to mitigate it by carefully levying the youngest toon a few suggestions.
"Know? Understand?"
"Mhm. Didn't know why. Boris didn't want to talk. Tom didn't want to talk. Buddy doesn't want to. But everyone wants to talk, ask about the bad place." Dewey's expression was meditative at first, even with his lack of understanding about what had happened, but that was wiped out by a stronger sense of fear that overtook his face as he turned back to Henry with a terrified question. "A-Are they gonna ask me?"
"Not if you don't want to talk about it. I think that they're looking for something specific, something you don't know. But Boris, Tom, and Buddy, they might know."
"Why?" Dewey asked, the perfect picture of confusion if not worry at the prospect of more questions. Not that Henry blamed him for his nerves, feeling more than a little sympathetic towards the youngest toon even as he tried to explain.
"Because they're older than you, and they were in the, the bad place longer."
"Will they wanna ask you questions?"
It was a surprising thing for Dewey to ask, at least at first, but Henry couldn't help reasoning that it did make sense. The inkwell had seen firsthand what happened with the others, and there might have been some discussion as to what would happen once Henry woke up. Even if that part was something that no one had meant for the younger toons to hear.
"They might. I'll deal with it though, if it happens." It might not be tonight, or tomorrow, but Henry figured it'd probably be happening sooner rather than later.
But, well, no sense worrying about it now. It definitely wouldn't be good for Dewey to worry over it, Henry's mind leaping back to something the inkwell said before as he tried to change the subject.
"Though, I think you said something about books?"
And, well, if the artist wanted to change the subject, then mission very much accomplished. Dewey's expression, though still with a shadow or two of worry, did melt into something much more earnest at the reminder. Quickly the inkwell hurried to get up, rushing past the weird box, portable theater thing as he went to grab a book from somewhere across the room.
He ended up coming back with two, holding them close as he came hurrying in before re-realizing the close proximity between Henry's bed and Bendy's cot. Though this did make Dewey pause, he ended up repeating his earlier move with slowly scooting through the gap to settle in at Henry's bedside, flashing the artist a happy smile.
And, ironically, it sort of clicked right then and there, seeing Dewey with books in his hands. It lacked the cuffed gloves, and the inkwell in question was less broad-shouldered than the somewhat more imposing figure in Henry's mind, but he knew precisely where They'd gotten the template from, so to speak.
All things considered though, it had been a lifetime ago that Joey had clopped into his office and asked him to sketch out some concepts for a bunch of characters that would appear in the shorts. Admittedly, when the studio head had discussed it with him Henry was under the impression that these would be background characters, or even potential new leads like Alice had become, though Henry had a sneaking suspicion that Joey had retooled them into antagonists at the last minute. Not that the animator had been present for it, having taken a couple weeks off to head back across the country for his brother's wedding.
In fact, the reason the quartet had become antagonists was likely as a result of Henry taking off, a sort of roundabout way of punishing the 'star' animator for daring to leave. Even if it was just temporary. Though the only thing these thoughts really did was to make the sight of Dewey, the inkwell toon that he'd drawn all those years ago, sitting there and smiling at him feel slightly bittersweet.
Which wasn't really fair to the toon himself, Henry hastening to move the thoughts along as he tried to get back into the present moment. Especially since Dewey was hastening to hold out one of the books, the gold lettering reading The Adventures of Robin Hood.
"I really like this one!" Dewey was saying, grinning widely like a child only could when they were telling you about something that truly captured their heart and soul. "He's not afraid of anything! And he helps all the time, and fights off bad guys!"
"A quintessential hero." Henry agreed, carefully holding the book in a hand as he looked over the illustration on the front cover.
"Quin-tess-sential?" Dewey asked, enthusiasm dying down from its earlier verve as the inkwell grew completely distracted with the new word.
"It means, the pure essence of something. When everyone thinks of a hero, they think of the things that Robin Hood does."
"What is a hero?" The inkwell abruptly asked, Henry's train of thought briefly derailing at the fairly blunt question. Though, as he looked at the youngest toon's eyes, he couldn't help thinking back to similar situations in the studio, with another, much smaller devil toon.
Bendy had been full of questions too, and when he realized Henry was a safe person to ask them the animator heard multitudes of the little devil's musings. In a strange way, this was almost a return to that simpler time, even with everything that had changed. So, with a slight amount of bittersweetness lancing through his heart, Henry replied.
"Pretty much what you just said, somebody that does good things for others, stops people doing bad things. Someone who sees the good in the world and wants to make things better. That's a hero."
"And they're not scared?" Dewey asked, voice slightly hushed as a somewhat telling furrow went through the rim ringing his head. Not that Henry blamed Dewey for the confusion, it was a pretty interesting concept to grasp. Especially for someone who likely had started off life being very, very afraid.
"Not always. But sometimes they might be scared. Sometimes they're normal people who get caught up in things much, much bigger than themselves. And, well, they have two options. They can either do nothing, and let bad things happen, or they can stand up and try to do the right thing. Even when it might be hard."
"Even if they're scared?" The inkwell asked, and even though it was nearly the same as the previous question, Henry couldn't help feeling like there was a slightly different note to it now. Something a little more understanding, but looking for confirmation.
"Yeah, even when they're scared."
The response had Dewey looking down at his knees with a not-inconsiderable amount of thought. Though it took the youngest toon a good few moments to work through the musings that the words had brought on, Henry let it happen. If Dewey had anything else he wanted to ask, the artist would gladly answer, the kid had earned that much with everything he'd been through.
Though he ended up being thrown completely for a loop when Dewey suddenly straightened, looking over at Henry with a calm smile as he spoke up.
"Then, I think I could get through it too, if they asked more questions. Even if it's about the, the bad place. I could do it."
Henry was honestly left staring, before a smile began to form as the meaning behind Dewey's words registered.
"That's very brave of you, Dewey. Hopefully you won't need to, though. And if they start asking you questions you're not comfortable with, you tell me, okay?"
"Okay." The inkwell returned, rocking in a nod as he smiled.
"What's that book about?" Henry asked, indicating the other volume that Dewey had brought over. It was a somewhat plainer cover, white with black lettering, though there was also a drawing on this one. That looked like a pair of children peering over the edge of a sidewalk that hung out over an abyss, something that was definitely a little intriguing and…didn't really give away much as to what was going on under the cover. Even as the inkwell held it up for Henry to see he wasn't any more enlightened.
Where The Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein.
"Love-stuff, homework. Boris was teaching me letters. I remember the picture." Dewey said, pulling the book back and flipping through it. At first, the latter half of the explanation did not make any sense, until Henry noticed that there were pictures scrawled on most of the pages. Dewey also helped by apparently finding the pages he was looking for, showing a solitary child holding up a sign that said 'V'. Just 'V', though the poem next to it provided more of an explanation, that the rest of the letters, 'L', 'O', and 'E' were held up. It was definitely a somewhat poignant image, Henry more absently answering as Dewey took the book away.
"Ah, I see…"
"Mhm, I'm learning lots of words! I also learned some things from Scooby Doo!"
Alright, if that was a name, Henry had to admit it was definitely one he'd never heard before…
"Who is, Scooby Doo?" The artist haltingly asked, unsure whether or not he was even pronouncing the smattering of words right. However, Dewey didn't seem to hold any ill will over his stumbling, even hurrying to explain which was nice.
"He's a talking dog, from the tapes! Lucio brought them!" The inkwell had that look on his face again, the one that Henry knew likely meant that this was something that had snagged Dewey's attention and adoration but good. "Do you wanna watch one?"
And, well, it wasn't like they had other plans, though Henry couldn't help getting stuck on one part of the explanation, unable to keep a particular question from leaping to his tongue.
"He's a cartoon?"
"Mhm!" Dewey replied, rocking happily with a wide, sharp-toothed smile. No sign that he noticed the certain irony of a cartoon watching a cartoon, though Henry couldn't help an internal, private laugh over it.
"Alright, sure. We can watch a bit."
Tom sat up at that, having seemingly been listening to the conversation and had claimed rights over working the portable theater.
"…I'll put it on."
"Thank you, Tom." Henry spoke up, trying his best to make his voice carry a bit and properly convey his gratitude for the wolf. Having Dewey trying to work the machine on his own likely wouldn't have ended well, and it wasn't like Henry could be much help, confined to the bed as he was. What was somewhat adorable was how the inkwell attempted to mimic the artist's gesture, hurrying to add his own appreciation.
"Y-Yeah, thank you!"
The wolf eased a tape into part of the machine, Henry watching what he could as Tom went through the motions of pressing a few buttons, speaking up as he did.
"Don't mention it. Y'wanna watch one of the other ones? We kinda already saw the one with the sailor and diving suit ghost, thing."
"Okay!" Dewey replied immediately, all enthusiasm and gumption. Buddy was also sitting up, the tiny devil having been apparently roused by all of the excitement. Though granted, Henry had the feeling that the little guy hadn't really been sleeping, more dozing. Boris was more clearly down for the count, it taking the apparent opening screen, or more rather the opening sequence, for the wolf to give a more wakening snort as he twitched against Henry's shoulder.
"W-We're watchin' more?"
"Yes!" Dewey answered, sharp-toothed grin flipping from the cartoon to Boris and then back again. Given that the younger two were pretty much engrossed with the colorful visuals flashing over the screen, and Tom didn't seem primed to answer, Henry took over.
"Dewey said this was a cartoon you were watching. He seemed pretty eager to show me."
"It is really good, Henry. I think I like this one the best." Boris replied, the artist able to hear the smile in the wolf's tone. It warmed his heart, though Henry didn't get time to continue the conversation as the show plunked them into a story involving the eponymous main cast, a professor of theirs, and an apparently cursed mummy that was being showcased in their school.
In a way, Henry had to admit that the formula held a kind of genius to it. Short little mysteries, complicated enough to grab the attention of kids and maybe get a laugh or two out of the adults present. Even if the animation occasionally made him feel twitchy. There were all kinds of odd little errors, like characters had been stenciled in and the process hadn't fully taken. Things clipping through other things, a moving part of a character looking like it was shaking when compared to the stationary part, and movement that looked like the characters were more dolls than anything.
If the animation team at JDS had handed Joey something like this, he might've torn up the whole thing in front of them to make a point.
Even as he had the thought Henry couldn't help wincing a little at it, not helped by the fact that Dewey and Buddy were very clearly enraptured by the whole thing. For all the faults Henry could find, even without meaning to, it was obvious that coming at it from that direction wasn't just unneeded, it honestly made it harder to really enjoy the relatively innocent cartoon.
Which felt downright awful to realize, the ex-animator unable to help a frown. Thankfully it didn't seem like any of the toons had noticed, though it left Henry with a conundrum. How to actually take this in without thinking about the, well, not exactly lessons, that had been instilled in him from Joey Drew Studios.
Well, part of the issue was that he was seeing all the negative things, the errors. But the toons were clearly taken by it, so there had to be something good, right?
…The backgrounds, Henry quickly decided as he sat through the scene where two of the kids happened upon the petrified remains of the Egyptian doctor. The backgrounds were wonderfully done, almost reminiscent of paintings. Henry remembered doing his fair share of the backgrounds in different shorts, maybe doing it that way, like a painting, was something he could give a shot.
The characters were also something good too, and very fundamental. It really clicked once the gang had gotten back together, sans the dog, Scooby Doo. The lovable pooch had accidentally been left behind with the mummy, who had apparently kidnapped him (cue a worried gasp from Dewey, along with Buddy and Boris sitting a little straighter). In the next scene it was clear that some time had passed, enough that the mummy was able to enact his petrifying curse on Scooby too. Shaggy, of course, was distraught, Henry able to feel how Boris went tense against him for an instant, right before the camera panned to a spot a little ways away where something was digging out from under a door. Of course, there was a moment where Scooby shared in his friend's grief at his apparent 'demise', only for it to be revealed that everything was fine.
The characters were good, fundamentally easy to like, silly and serious as the plot needed. That, along with the formula of the mystery-solving plots, made it a simple, yet elegant idea. There was even a good amount of familiar cartoon shenanigans that wrapped up the whole thing, Scooby launching the mummy into the basketball hoop.
And it turned out that the mummy actually was the man that had brought the Egyptian exhibit in, his apparent reason for putting on the whole scheme being that there was a part of it, a treasure, that he'd been hoping to steal. A neat end to a fun story, and apparently that wasn't even the last of it as the end credits flipped to another round of the opening ones.
Though by that point Tom had gotten up, hitting some button that made the picture freeze and the sound cut off.
"Did we wanna try watchin' another one?" The stockier wolf asked, making Dewey and Buddy pause before turning to look in Henry and Boris's direction. Not that the artist really knew what to do, Dewey had only mentioned one cartoon.
"There's more?"
"Yeah, Speed Buggy and the, the Funky Phantom?" Dewey's lilting tone turned out to be more of a question directed at the other toons, Boris nodding against Henry's shoulder.
"Mhm, those are the other two."
It sort of struck Henry that Boris didn't really sound enthusiastic about these other cartoons, but a knock at the door distracted him from digging into that any further. The knocking made everyone freeze, Tom noticeably bristling and Boris tensing against Henry's shoulder, but as it turned out the person at the door was just Lucio.
Lucio with dinner, as it turned out. The toons perked up at the notions of steak, as well as broccoli and mashed potatoes. Dewey practically considered the broccoli like a philosopher of old, lifting it on his fork like he was considering some grand principle of the universe. It made Henry snort a little over his relatively small meal of broth and water. Boris and to a lesser degree Tom had brightened significantly at the taste of the steak, the lankier wolf mentioning something to Tom about trying steak for the first time over Christmas. Henry passively listened to the chatter, having worked through his dinner and was more or less quietly sitting off to the side.
Or at the very least, that's how he was until a flicker of movement drew the artist's attention to Buddy, the tiny toon scampering up Henry's bed with a sheaf of paper held in his hand. It was a bit difficult given that the minute devil had to adjust for his height, making sure the pages didn't drag, but he managed it, stopping next to Henry with a quietly triumphant, eager look. And held up the papers, Henry easily able to see the drawings scrawled over the front page in whorls of color.
"Did you draw those?" The artist asked, a smile in his tone as well as over his face as he reached out, carefully taking the pages as Buddy enthusiastically nodded. Lifting his arm, Henry let Buddy settle in against him as he studied the drawings, recognizing familiar motifs of stars and rainbows, as well as dribbling "drops" of what looked like pure color. Some of these were somewhat arranged in what looked like actual shapes, such as a bigger, taller figure in the center of what looked like a crowd of smaller figures. These all ranged in terms of height, though no one seemed to reach the first one. Apart from height, there wasn't really any other defining features that set the figures apart, though what was interesting was that Buddy had instead elected to fill in the space they took up with colorful blobs rather than anything else.
It gave the appearance of shadows, but opposite. Instead of being projected from something standing in front of a light source, they were the light source, Henry giving the thought and the picture a considering hum and a bit of praise. The next one was, definitely a bit more easy to puzzle out, though what drew Henry's eye was the fact that Buddy had taken a rather accurate portrayal of the night sky from what looked like the ground. There were geometric shapes ringing the bottom of the page that Henry couldn't help likening to buildings, briefly making the artist wonder if this was something that the tiny toon would have seen. The question was when, nothing had been allowed in and out of the studio for thirty straight years, when would Buddy have seen the night sky—wait.
"Was this what the sky looked like when we, made it out?"
Buddy nodded in response, blue eyes open in their honesty even if the minute devil did not verbally express his answer. He elaborated a little by opening his arms up above and down in an arch around him, trying his best to indicate the sheer breadth of the night sky he saw.
And, well, it was something Henry could understand as up until a little while ago his view of the world had to come through cutouts made with cursed ink.
"You know they make pictures out of the stars? They're called constellations."
It was a little funny in retrospect how Buddy reacted. The tiny toon seemed to be of two minds on the idea, both nodding happily and then shaking his head with a confused frown in the span of a few moments. Hiding a slight huff of laughter, Henry went on.
"I can tell you about a few of them, if you like?"
The offer made the minute devil's eyes grow wide as saucers, expression eager and cautiously excited as his little head rapidly bobbed in a smattering of nods.
"Alright, well, we have two constellations that are known as the Big and Little Dipper, but if you add a few extra stars to them they start looking like bears. A big bear, and a little bear. That was the one I always used to see a lot when I'd look up at night, but there's also one called the hunter, Orion, which rises in the beginning of the, the summer, I think?, and then sets in the winter. Supposedly he was the best hunter of his time." It suddenly struck Henry that he'd just thrown a lot of complicated, confusing words at Buddy, with no explanation as to what any of them meant. Even if the tiny toon looked relatively awed by what the artist was saying, Henry couldn't be sure that that might not have had something to do with sheer incomprehension as to what was being talked about.
"Sorry, Bud, that was probably more confusing. Did you want me to talk about something else?"
But, well, it seemed that even the too-big explanation was compelling enough, the minute devil shaking his head and waving his arms, urging Henry to continue.
"Alright, alright," the artist murmured through a laugh. Even as he tried not to jostle Buddy too much, the tiny toon was grinning widely and apparently had reached the zenith of his excitement, reeling forward and plastering himself to Henry's front in a sloppy hug.
The contact honestly caught Henry off-guard, though as the pause made Buddy stiffen a little, the artist trying to cover for his hesitation by gently wrapping the tiny devil in a hug.
There was a long moment where Buddy seemed to be weighing the interaction, before the smallest toon's arms came up to wrap a little more securely around Henry's frame.
It was a good feeling, Henry almost loath for it to end though he did let Buddy draw back a bit. But, fair was fair, and the little guy probably wanted to hear more about the constellations and stories…
But before Henry could go on there was a knock at the door, his and the toons' heads all turning to look just as Dr. Sommer poked her head in.
"Hello? Did dinner go well?"
There was a short chorus of 'yes's ringing out from around the room, though Henry and Buddy stuck to a nod and Tom ultimately stayed quiet. Not that Dr. Sommer begrudged anyone their silence, coming into the room and politely closing the door behind her.
"That's good. I just wanted to check in before the day completely ended, and see if we could get the ball rolling on that idea I mentioned before."
"What idea?" Boris asked, head tilting as he curiously considered the doctor's words. Thankfully, she didn't leave them in suspense long, drawing something small out of her coat pocket. It looked like a bottle for pills, if Henry was to make any sort of guess, though the material looked a little different, and it was so small it was hard to make out the label from where he was sitting.
But Boris, who was closer, was able to see a little more, the lankier wolf's curious tilt going somewhat stiff as he realized what was in the doctor's hand.
"A-Are those the pills, with ink?"
Pills with ink? Henry couldn't help feeling his ears perk up at that one, especially since he was fairly certain as to what these pills would be used for. Even if Bendy and Alice were unconscious, perhaps there was a way that they could be made to take it.
Hopefully without hurting them, the thought making Henry's frown grow a little more prevalent as he sat up a little, a hand coming up to make sure his shifting didn't accidentally knock Buddy off the bed.
"Yes, we got them finished just a little while ago. I just want to be sure that we can get them to take it, it might be a bit of a challenge…"
"What do you mean?" Boris asked, ears folding down in worry.
"Well, normally with pills you would take them with water, though if they're well and truly unconscious, they might not be able to swallow. Normally, in this case I would try an injection, but I'm not sure that would work well, with Bendy at least it might be nearly impossible."
"Why's that?" Tom was the one to ask this time, Boris had gone quiet at the notion of injections, a hand reaching up though Henry couldn't quite see what the lankier wolf was doing. Dr. Sommer's eyes did go to Boris, a brief look of consideration in them, but she had to quickly change gears to answer Tom's question.
"Well, when doing an injection you need to look for veins. You can't just inject medicine under the skin and expect it to help. Though for most people, veins are visible on the skin, and unfortunately from what I can see Bendy's, veins, are entirely concealed against his skin. If I wanted to give him an IV, like with Henry, I wouldn't know where to actually inject it in a way that would be helpful." As she trailed off, Dr. Sommer couldn't help glancing in Alice's direction, continuing her line of thought. "Alice might be somewhat easier in that respect, though I cannot say that I noticed veins earlier when I was examining her. The other issue is getting Bendy to actually swallow the pill. Usually when you want someone to swallow something a way to do it would be to ease it down their throat via rubbing, and, well, with Bendy…"
"Bendy doesn't have a throat." Boris finished, Dr. Sommer nodding in response.
"Exactly. Though he has woken up for a few moments to drink water, so it might be just a matter of provoking that again, if it can be done."
"Throat?" Dewey asked, glancing around at everyone.
"Dewey," Henry spoke up, fighting a slight rasp as the inkwell turned to him. "This is a throat."
The youngest toon watched as the artist indicated the body part in question, feeling out his own, well, more or less lack of a neck. A furrow in the inkwell's "brow" hinted that he was still a little confused, though they didn't have much time to address it, as things were already moving along. Dr. Sommer asked for some water to be brought in to try to ply Bendy, along with some new bandages as they did want to have those changed anyway.
The nurse they'd met previously, Lucio, was the one helping, Henry briefly wondering if there were others that he'd just not met yet. However, any thoughts about that were put on hold by the impending administration of the…medicine. Perhaps on one front Henry knew he should feel grateful that they were going through all this trouble, though a much louder part of him couldn't help feeling more than a little wary. He had no idea what they put in that thing, if it was truly just ink, or might've had something else added in on the sly. The toons had already been given something harmful once, was it a good idea to just take what they were saying at face value?
Well, alright, what does your gut say?
Henry couldn't help freezing, caught between what felt like a strange sort of electric nervousness and a strange sort of cool-headed-ness. The latter was saying that unless he spoke up, there was really no way to stop them, it wasn't like he could get up and physically put a halt to the whole thing. However, a small bit of leniency came in the form of the Doctor herself, who had moved alongside Henry's bed given that Bendy's cot was right next to him.
Probably part of this could have been owed to the fact that Henry was, well, unused to the notion of having his expressions so easily seen, but with one look at his face she'd apparently managed to pick out some sign of his internal conflict. As Lucio was gently easing Bendy's blankets down, exposing the bandages on the little devil's front, she carefully turned to the nearly prone animator and offered him the bottle of pills she'd been holding.
"Did you want to take a look? We were talking about this the other day, but, well…"
Henry hadn't been awake to hear it. Though he definitely appreciated the attempt to catch him up, even if it was a little rushed. Despite the weakness in his hands, he managed to shake one of the little black pills out onto a bandaged palm, looking over it as best he could. Though, even with the fluorescent lights turned up, it was a bit harder to see the darn thing…
Or at least, it was before Buddy abruptly started and scooted out of Henry's lap and off the bed. Moments later the curtains were somewhat ruffled, letting in a ray of natural light. Dewey, Boris, and Tom moved as one, carefully easing the curtains the rest of the way aside and letting in the rest of the late evening sun, also easing a smile onto Henry's scarred features.
"Thank you."
The trio had their own, more positive reactions, Dewey and Boris smiling with the lankier wolf's tail wagging behind him, and while Tom's was smaller there was a distinct release of tension in his shoulders, his frame easing down into something a little more calm.
And, with the new light source, Henry could get a somewhat better look at the pill sitting in his own bandaged hand. It definitely looked like ink in there, though the color was very solid. There must've been no air bubbles inside, something that was slightly impressive given the sort of seam that ran the middle of the capsule itself. Did they just, close a bit of ink in there? It was such a small amount, though probably anything would be good for Bendy and Alice at this stage—
A faint whimper caught Henry's attention, this one especially significant given that it was coming from the prone little devil in the cot next to him. Lucio had already gently pulled away the bandages covering Bendy's chest, Henry feeling his heart drop at the sight of what looked like a mostly healed scar decorating the little devil's upper body. It was, a shape, definitely. A circle, a few lines going around in it, but it wasn't anything that he recognized, or anything that really connected to each other. The only clear shape was that of the circle, and though that was innocent enough Henry couldn't help likening it to the various inky spell circles inscribed around the studio.
Boris had also inched closer at the sound, though between Lucio, Dr. Sommer, and the close proximity of the cots, there really wasn't any place for the wolf to stand to get a better look. Managing to catch the lankier toon's eye, Henry tried to gesture for Boris not to worry, he'd keep an eye on things and do what he could. It did make the wolf calm down a bit, though that left Henry with the somewhat more harrowing prospect of keeping an eye on the situation and making a formal decision as to what to do regarding the apparent pills.
Thankfully for his nerves, the bandages on Bendy's chest were replaced easily enough, though that left the bandages on the little devil's fingers. And apparently, while the majority of these looked to be healed, there were definitely a few that were still open. Again, Henry was struck by the placement and look of the wounds themselves; they almost looked like slits over each fingertip.
What on earth had Joey been doing? Though the second he had the thought Henry knew he wasn't likely to get much of an answer. So instead he looked from Bendy, hearing another shadowy whine from the little devil's throat as he made a decision.
"Here," Henry murmured, handing the pill bottle back to Dr. Sommer. "Do you think you can get him to take one?"
"We can definitely try." Was her reply, Henry looking on as Lucio continued to replace the bandages on Bendy's fingers, and Dr. Sommer moved in with the pills, and a bottle of water with a straw. Lucio left off the bandaging for a moment, lifting Bendy as Dr. Sommer slipped one of the ink pills onto the little devil's tongue, then immediately provided the water.
One tense moment later, and the pill had gone where it needed to. Dr. Sommer also went through checking Bendy's vitals: heartbeat, airway, etc. Everything was coming back good, as far as she was concerned. The news had Henry letting out a breath that he didn't remember holding, though next came Alice's examination. The angel being further away, it was harder to see what was going on, albeit the motions looked very similar. Checking the airway, the heartbeat, and so on, though apparently Alice's heartbeat was slower than Bendy's, more sluggish. Not really weak, but not ideal.
However, what stopped Dr. Sommer and Lucio from trying the same trick they did with Bendy was that Alice had no reaction to what was going on around her. Not once did Henry hear a sound from the angel, his apparent tension at that also shared by Tom, who moved a little closer to more directly see what was going on.
"You're lookin' for veins?" The one-armed wolf grunted eventually, Lucio being the one to answer as Dr. Sommer was concentrating on her own efforts.
"Yeah. Her skin bein' lighter, figured we oughta be able to spot something. Hell, if we don't find a vein in the arms, we can always try the legs. It can work just as well."
It was a hopeful enough idea, though Henry couldn't tell if Dr. Sommer was finding anything. She didn't exactly look defeated, though it was not a look of triumph he saw as she turned away from the angel. If anything it was more, thoughtful.
Which…was good. There would probably need to be more thought put into the toon's care. Even if they didn't have an answer in the here and now, which felt very, very demoralizing.
Well, almost, Henry corrected himself with a tired sigh. Alice wasn't well but she was here, with the rest of them. They could figure things out, he'd just have to make sure nothing happened to the angel in the meantime. Alice or Bendy, they'd both need to be watched. And maybe he'd have a talk with the others to make sure he was getting a complete picture of what had happened when he'd been…away.
But, well, not in the here and now. Henry's thoughts turned into a quieter sort of hum as the thoughts of examinations turned to him next. He made sure he was following along, did what Dr. Sommer and Lucio were saying when they told him, even if he just wanted some quiet at the moment.
If he could just get through this, then he'd be getting his wish, though Henry couldn't help growing more attentive when the examination turned to his reflexes, more namely, his legs.
And, well, good news. The muscles were just atrophied, not damaged. He could feel everything, still had some range of movement, but they definitely weren't going to be holding his weight any time soon. Even if the rest of him was definitely on the skinnier side, apparently being entombed in magic ink didn't mean your physical needs were being totally met. Who knew.
So, Henry nodded along as the doctor told him he'd be starting physical therapy soon, letting her explanation wash over him as she listed out the different ways they'd be helping him get his strength back. All good, even if the most he could do was agree to it in the here and now. There wasn't much point in getting anything going now, and besides, he could spot the signs of the excitement beginning to wear a little at the toons. Boris in particular was drooping a little where he stood, eyes half-open though he did try to shake himself awake to listen along.
It seemed to take an impossibly long few minutes for everything to wrap up, though eventually it did, leaving Henry alone with the toons yet again. Buddy had apparently already made some decision though, as the faint shiftings at the end of the bed drew Boris's eye and immediately cajoled him into helping the tiny devil back up onto Henry's bed. A lifted arm was all the prompting Buddy needed after that, scooting over and huddling against Henry's side with a barely-there sigh. Dewey sat back down where he'd been before, Boris awkwardly hovering before Henry gestured for the wolf to come sit on his unoccupied side.
A part of him wondered if Boris might've been looking for some form of reassurance, though the wolf didn't say much. Instead he just laid down with his head resting on Henry's shoulder, giving a sigh that was echoed by Tom as the one-armed wolf settled back down on his cot again. While there was a part of Henry that wondered if he ought to be reaching out to Tom, there was also a part of him that reasoned that he'd have to let the wolf relax in his own way, and simply be present. It definitely didn't seem like Tom wanted to be bothered in the here and now, for sure.
Though, upon seeing Dewey's more unsure but wanting look, Henry did lift his hand away from Buddy to reach out to the inkwell, grinning in tandem with Dewey as their hands carefully met.
The group simply sat there in silence, though as the light coming in from the window became a more prevalent gold, Dewey glanced in that direction and let out an awed gasp.
It really happened by pure chance, though Henry reasoned that at any point any of them could have looked to the side and noticed the fact that the sun was setting over the horizon in a bright splash of hues. Either way, the sight took his breath away, the animator going completely quiet as his gaze riveted to the window. It wasn't until Buddy fidgeted in his arms that Henry was drawn back into the moment, along with the fact that Dewey's expression was a picture of pure amazement at the sight.
Briefly, he couldn't help looking at them all. Boris, Buddy, Dewey, even the more reticent Tom, who still stared out at the landscape with the same hungry curiosity as the rest. Though there was the thought of Bendy, and Alice, both still recovering and unconscious, Henry couldn't help the entirely serious, if not cautious thought that things might be looking up for them all.
It was frail, but the first stirrings of hope were there, and for the moment the artist relished in them as well as the company of the toons.