Michael felt Henry's hand grip his tighter. "What?" He paled, staring at Michael with eyes that gradually widened.
"There's a lot Charlie and I haven't told you," he said to Henry. "The job was dangerous, which I mean, duh of course it was. But we stayed, because we wanted to find out why the animatronics were like this, how my sister died, and if perhaps—" he clenched his teeth, anger and sorrow lingering at the very thought— "if it had been done on purpose. My father just confirmed it, and now he's going after Charlie. She's back at the rental service. We have to go now."
Michael expected Henry to argue over this or question what he had said. The man did no such thing, immediately nodding. "I'll go see if I can stop him, and as for you, you have to stay here."
"What? No way." Michael sat up straighter, straining against his throbbing injury. "I have to go."
"Organs were literally ripped from your body, Michael," Henry said, turning to leave. "You can't risk it. You need to recover, and—"
"No." Michael reached over the side of the bed and grabbed Henry's arm, making him stop. "Charlie is my best friend, she means more to me than practically anyone. I can't just sit and do nothing when she's in danger, especially from my own father." As Henry looked over his shoulder, Michael locked eyes with him. "Let me come. Please."
Henry only paused a moment before nodding. "Alright. But we're already wasting enough time. Let's go." Relaxing, Michael nodded back. Straining what felt like every muscle in his body, he heaved himself out of bed. He staggered when his feet touched the floor. Henry steadied him, then together, the two left the building, Michael snagging his clothes off the table by his room door as they exited. The moment they got into the car, Henry turned the ignition and hit the gas. They sped out of the parking lot. Grunting in pain, Michael struggled to change in the backseat, silently cursing the terrible clothes of the hospital. He somehow managed to tangle it in the seatbelt as he yanked it over his head. After properly changing—into clothes not covered in blood much to his relief; it seemed either Henry or Charlie had brought him fresh clothing—he focused on the road, his breaths hurting his aching body. However, he refused to let the pain get the better of him. Charlie was more important.
Henry glanced in the rearview mirror, and having seen Michael was finished, said, "I already knew you and Charlie kept things from me. We almost discussed it in the waiting room, but she needed more comfort than anything, so I did not bother her with questions. We haven't had the chance to speak over it since then." He let out a deep sigh. "This is exactly what I was afraid would happen. Dangerous animatronics...and William himself." He sneered, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "So what exactly did he tell you?"
"Not much, surprisingly," Michael said, his voice tight and hard. "Just told me the animatronics of the rental shop were made for killing children and blathered on about ridiculous and horrible things about me, Elizabeth, and other kids. He also tried to...kill me." He shuddered. "I don't know what else he's done, but—"
"The missing children," Henry cut in, sounding angrier by the minute. Michael was vaguely surprised by the rage he could hear building. He'd always seen Henry as a gentle man.
"Missing children?" Michael said. "What do you mean?"
Henry turned sharply onto another street. "The news was kept quiet, for fear of the franchise's reputation. William has always had a way with keeping such things secret and from the public eye. It's part of the reason we had that doctor I took you to." He shook his head, displeasure creeping over his features. "I never liked it, but I tolerated it. Anyway, to answer your question, several children went missing at the last pizzeria...and even a few at the diner." The anger on his face diminished to one of grief, pure sorrow. "One of which was..." He trailed off.
"Sammy?" Michael said, lowering his head a bit.
Henry paused. "Y-yes. I suppose tragedy has always surrounded our business. And to think we started out so hopeful." His grasp on the wheel loosened. "It was just supposed to be a sweet, entertaining place for children. Now I'm not even sure I want to continue it."
Michael bowed his head more, reflecting on his own horrifying experience at the diner—the death he had caused with his own hands. But at least, on his part, it had been an accident. It sounded like William purposely murdered children. And that, well, it was sick, one of the most terrible and vile things Michael could think of. His sorrow over the memory plunged him back into fuming rage and the need to save Charlie.
"So you think my father killed those missing kids?" Michael asked, his breaths growing ragged with his bursting fury.
"Yes." Henry sounded angry once again, as well. "I'm going to be honest, I have, um, kept some things from two, as well. I've been suspicious of William for a while. Not exactly for the missing children incident, but still. Over the years, he's felt less and less like the good friend I started a business with. It's partly the reason I was reluctant to let Charlie work with us. But I never would have imagined his deeds were this horrible, and—"
"We have to stop him," Michael broke in, "and not just to save Charlie, to stop him from killing any more children, if that's what he really did. I'm beginning to believe it more by the minute, he practically said it himself. Those missing kids can't be a coincidence."
"Agreed." Henry turned onto another road. "I...I can't let him hurt Charlie again, or—"
"Again?" Michael sat up straighter, causing himself sudden pain. He hunched forward and wrapped an arm around his torso. "W-what do you mean again?"
Henry winced. "I'll tell you about it after we make sure she's safe. We're about a mile away now."
Michael frowned hard, his eye shifting to the world blurring past outside. "Henry, wait." He tapped the window. "We're passing my neighborhood. Go to my house, I have an idea." Sending him a quizzical look, Henry did as he was told and drove the car towards Michael's place, still going at the same urgent speed he had since they left the doctor's office. "We can enter through that secret trapdoor," Michael said once the vehicle came to a halt in the driveway. "It'll be faster than trying to take the elevator, and sneakier too."
"Brilliant." Henry flung the door open and exited. "Do you need help getting out?"
"I can manage." Michael did the same, stumbling as his feet touched the gravel of his driveway. "Let's go." The duo rushed into the garage, which Michael managed to open, for he thankfully had snagged his keys when he took his clothes. They then opened the trapdoor and lowered themselves in. Michael struggled on the ladder, his body radiating pain as he took it a rung at a time. When he reached the bottom, Henry offered him an arm for support. "Th-thanks," he said, breathless. "We have to hurry."
Henry instantly expressed his agreement. "If...if something happens to Charlie, I'll—"
"No," Michael interrupted, beginning the hike down the dark corridor. "She's going to be okay. We have to stay hopeful." Henry said nothing and also began walking. Michael was grateful that the man made sure to keep close to him, for Michael's footsteps kept faltering, the pain of his scooping injury and his broken ankle nagging on him. He still felt completely exhausted and winded, yet he managed to keep himself upright. At this point, his determination to get to Charlie was the only thing that kept him going.
The moment they reached the exit, they threw the door open and emerged into a familiar room. Michael grimaced at the sight of blood on the floor left from that fateful night. He bet his blood was all over the building, for he'd been dripping it practically everywhere.
"I don't know the layout of this place," Henry said. "Where do you think she could be?"
"Not sure." Michael leaned against the wall for support, his eye scanning the room. "I-I don't even know the extent of this building. If she was exploring, she could be anywhere. Maybe she—" He broke off, quieting, for a blaring sound shattered the eerie silence of the building. He froze up, his mouth falling open. It was a scream. No. A screech. It sounded inhuman and shrill, yet deep and distorted...and almost exactly like the scream of the horrifying Fredbear in his nightmare. He felt like he'd heard it countless times, like the very sound bored into his being, taking him straight back to long, haunted nights he hated to think of. For a moment he thought he'd imagined it, but when he looked at Henry and saw his own frightened expression, he knew he had not. Michael opened his mouth to say something, but words were lost to him, unreachable in the midst of the memory of the nightmare.
Henry recovered much faster. "Whatever that sound was, I think we should follow it. And fast."
"R-right." Michael found his voice. "Right, of course. Let's go." The only direction they could go was down the hallway before them, so they took it. It stretched on for a distance, then emerged into a small room. When Michael noticed a broken scanner on the wall, he guessed it was the mysterious room Charlie found. The two waited there, listening for the sound. When Michael focused, he could just barely detect banging noises coming from the other door, much like the one they had passed through when entering.
"This way." He limped towards it, his ankle burning painfully. "I think she—" He broke off as his gaze fell upon the desk of the room—or rather, something that sat on it. A Fredbear plush, all too familiar to him. His breath caught in his throat, and he seized up, causing more pain in his wounds. Hand trembling, he slowly reached out and picked up the plush. A walkie talkie on it slipped off and clattered to the desk as he lifted the stuffed bear and ran his finger over its soft surface.
Henry stopped by the other door, sending Michael a puzzled look. "Mike, what are you—" He stopped when he noticed what Michael held. Practically everyone who knew Evan also knew this Fredbear plush, for he had taken it everywhere with him. Michael grasped it tighter, clamping his mouth shut against a lump that lodged deep in his throat. Those black eyes with glowing white pupils stared straight into his single eye, filling him with a familiar grief and a strange sense of fear and danger.
"Evan..." Michael whispered.
The moment the name left his mouth, a voice entered his mind—Evan's voice. Go. Save her. Michael stifled a gasp, dropping the plush back onto the desk in surprise. It only took him a moment to recover from the shock. Setting his jaw, he shoved past Henry and dashed down the hall behind the door. He stumbled as he went, giving cries of pain and barely keeping himself on his feet. Henry called from behind; he sounded concerned, and warned Michael not to strain himself, but Mike didn't care. Clearly, Charlie was in danger.
He went on for only a minute, following the loud sounds of bangs and...roars? Soon, he came upon a door which he wasted no time in unlocking and bursting through. As soon as he staggered into the room, he nearly collapsed, half from his exhaustion, half from horror. There in the room loomed the very Fredbear from his nightmare—but not only that, it had one of its large hands around Charlie, keeping her pinned against the wall. She wiggled and squirmed, struggling to breathe. The animatronic opened its mouth, revealing two rows of sharp, deadly teeth. The mouth went for her head. A sudden burst of terror ripped through Michael, as if his entire body exploded with the same horrifying, overwhelming emotion. Charlie was going to die, just like Evan did...and he wouldn't have it.
"NO!" Michael shouted so loud his throat hurt. Using his last bit of strength, he flung himself forward. He bashed straight into Fredbear's arm, causing it to release Charlie. They both crashed to the floor. He lay still for a moment, choking on his staggering breaths. His whole body ached, but especially his stomach and chest. It felt like the scooper was inside him again, ripping out his insides, sending unbearable pain through his entire form. He groaned, trying to push himself up. His body felt like too great a weight, and he slumped back to the floor. Swallowing, he looked towards Charlie who started to sit up. Before he could ask if she was alright, sudden powerful hands grabbed his waist. He screamed in pain, for the action sent unbearable burning through his torso. That same horrifying shriek rang out, then he was yanked back and straight into something. The mouth in Fredbear's stomach.
The large hands released him, and he collapsed into darkness. He trembled hard, pressing his hands against the tight, rounded walls surrounding him. Pitch black completely consumed him, and a booming heartbeat echoed through his ears. He couldn't tell where he was—didn't think he even wanted to know, not after seeing those sharp teeth close in front of him. His survival instinct kicking in, he began wriggling around and shoving his shaky hands against every hard surface he could. Nothing he did seemed to accomplish a thing. Giving short grunts and cries of pain, he kicked at the tight walls around him. His entire surroundings shook and jolted as he did. His legs throbbed. An even sharper and louder cry escaped him as one kick twisted his broken ankle to an odd, painful angle.
Grinding his teeth hard, he gave a final kick. His foot slammed against something hard, and a small sparking followed. Before he could react, his surroundings glitched and fazed, and then the walls around him vanished. He found himself on the floor, discombobulated and in pain.
"W...what?" He threw his gaze upwards. He expected to see Fredbear, but he did not. An endoskeleton stood there, looking much like the one of Funtime Freddy, though its eyes were yellow, oddly enough. It stared down at Michael, then lifted an arm, about to strike him. It didn't get the chance. An explosion of sparks erupted from its neck, and with a scratchy metallic noise, it fell to the side and made impact with the hard floor. Michael gulped, his gaze shifting from it to the floor. A small disc lay near his foot, cracked. Is that what he had kicked? He lifted his gaze. Henry and Charlie stood there, Charlie leaned over herself and Henry clutching a crowbar, much like the one she had used against the Minireenas.
"Crowbars." She gave a weak smile. "Guess they're good for destroying animatronics."
Michael didn't respond, stumbling to his feet, then feebly throwing his arms around Charlie. She hugged him back tightly and buried her face in his neck.
"I'm so glad you're alright," she whispered.
"I was about to say the same about you." He shut his eye and let out a breath of relief. "You're not hurt, are you?"
"Only a little," she said. "That thing, whatever it was, scratched me in a few places."
"Then we'll tend to those as soon as we get out of this wretched place," Henry said as the two drew away from each other. He promptly hugged his daughter. "Oh, Charlie. I thought I'd almost lost you again."
"It's okay, Dad," she said. She drew away, her face clouding over. "I think William snuck out of here when you arrived. Dad, he—" she looked down and back; her voice choked up as she spoke— "h-he killed Sammy."
Michael glanced down and rested a hand on his shoulder.
Henry did the same to her. "I'm sorry." His voice layered with sorrow. "I'm sorry I never told you that...that his death wasn't natural causes, it...it was—" he shut his eyes, then reopened them, visibly struggling— "murder. But I...I didn't know it was William till now." He gritted his teeth and withdrew his hand. "I'm going after him."
"What? No, don't put yourself in danger," Charlie said. "At least let us go with you."
Michael nodded, wobbling where he stood. He released her shoulder and dropped to his knees, panting heavily.
"Mike?" She fell beside him and put her hand on his trembling back. "Are you okay?"
"Y-yeah, just exhausted," he said. "I...I have to agree with her, Henry. You shouldn't go chasing after William."
"I at least need to see where he goes. I'm not a fool." Henry headed for the door. "I'll be careful, and I will not do anything stupid. You two stay here. When I get back, we're never coming back to this place again."
"Yes please," Michael murmured. Charlie looked doubtful, but she reluctantly nodded. The two watched Henry leave, then turned to each other, seated on the floor.
Swallowing, Michael pointed at the endoskeleton. "I...I don't understand what just happened. What was that?"
"It...looks like it was just an endoskeleton." She crawled over and picked up the disc Michael had spotted. It fell apart when she did. "Must be one Ennard didn't use. But this disc—" she shifted the pieces in the palm of her hand— "William said he would tell me what it was, then he showed me that horrifying version of Fredbear. I think it somehow made that. Maybe as an illusion?"
"But I felt it, touched it. You did too," Michael said. He glanced away, his breaths picking up with panic. More pain went through his chest. Clamping his eye shut, he silenced anymore words before they could come. He didn't dare tell Charlie about that Fredbear, how he recognized it.
"That's true," she said, bringing his gaze back to her. She frowned and looked at one of her arms, which bled a little. "It even hurt me. I don't know how to explain that, but come to think of it, these don't look much like scratches. Not scratches that claws would make, anyway." She let out a shuddering breath. "Whatever. That doesn't matter right now. Come over here." She motioned to him, then crawled over to a wall, giving a few sounds of pain. Michael went with her. The two rested against the wall and continued to speak, telling each other what had happened. Michael related the tale of William telling him what the animatronics were made for, then nearly killing him. He avoided talking about the Fredbear plush, only finished with them arriving and finding her. She then spoke of her experience with William, struggling to talk about what he'd told her of Sammy and that dreadful night.
"I'm sorry." Michael put an arm around her shoulders. "I...I just...argh, I can't believe any of this. So much has been happening recently, and so fast. It's all terrible, just...just horrible." He screwed his eye shut. "I always knew my father was worse than he let off, but I never thought he'd be so disgusting and evil. A literal child murderer. He almost killed you. Twice. And not just that, but he murdered Sammy, caused Elizabeth's death, and it sounds like he murdered other children as well. It makes me physically sick." His voice became low, trembling with restrained rage. "I hate that man."
Charlie nodded, her eyes downcast. "So do I. But we can outsmart him, we can find some way to stop him. Sue him, call the police, catch him in the act, whatever. We can do it." She gently took Michael's chin and turned his face to her, making some of his anger fade. "We won't let anyone else suffer what we have, and what the families of those other children probably have too."
He smiled softly. "Well said." They held each other's gazes, then both looked away. A silence fell between them, the only sound their exhausted breaths, which grew quieter, but still sounded labored with pain and fatigue.
"Hey, Mike?" Charlie broke the silence.
"Hm?" He immediately met her gaze.
The moment he did, her face turned red, much to his confusion. "Um—" she laughed nervously— "I, um...I just wanted to mention something."
"Alright," he said. "What?"
"Back in the car," said she, "when we took you to the doctor, there was something that we said to each other."
He stiffened. His breaths had finally evened out, but they increased again, this time not from exhaustion. "Yes," he said, his voice softening. "We did. We said many things."
Ugh! Stupid, Michael! he silently scolded himself. Of course, you know what she's talking about.
Charlie frowned, some of the red leaving her face. "No, that's not what I mean. What I mean is, we...we said—" she blushed hard yet again, her eyes constantly flitting between him and the floor as she continued— "we said I love you, which, um...well, I know friends say that to each other, but...but I thought—I meant...I...I'm blabbering, but I didn't mean it platonically, or—wait. No. I meant...oh, I...I meant—" She broke off when Michael gently cupped her cheek, and on an impulse, leaned in and kissed her. He felt her stiffen in surprise, but she almost immediately relaxed into the kiss. He did as well, his thumb caressing her cheek as he savored the sensation of her soft lips against his.
When they drew away, Charlie stared up at him in a rather shocked manner, her chocolate eyes larger than usual. Michael cringed, his face warming up. "Sorry. I should've asked first; I didn't mean to—"
"Oh quiet, you adorable dummy." She pulled him into another kiss, grasping the collar of his shirt. His eye slipped shut again as one of his arms wrapped around her waist and moved her a bit closer. The kiss lasted longer, and when they drew away, they were beaming at each other and laughing nervously, yet happily. Michael sagged against the wall more, letting his sore body relax as Charlie cuddled closer. They wrapped their arms around each other, then waited there in comfortable silence. They both worried over Henry for going after William like that, but they also trusted him, and right now, after so much peril, pain, strife, and sadness...enjoying each other's company and being together in a peaceful setting was enough for now.
She smiled up at him. "I love you, Michael."
He smiled back, pressing his forehead against hers as they snuggled in the shadows of the room. "I love you too, Charlotte."
Author's Note: Hwpighwpeofjwpohtpwoefpowephf I'm dying of cuteness.