Author's Note: Enjoy some more adorable Michael and Gregory interactions because I love them too much, and then onto the peril!

Gregory snuggled farther into the blankets, his eyes fluttering back shut. He figured he'd slept for much too long, but the exhaustion kept him in a deep sleep for ages. He did not get out of bed, even now. Not only because of his exhaustion but facing Michael. Gregory couldn't deny how fond of him he'd grown, and the thought of spending more time with Michael sounded quite comfortable and refreshing. However, Gregory wanted to smack himself for hugging him. Twice. That had to be embarrassing; he wasn't usually a mushy person. Rolling his eyes, he transferred to his other side. At least the bed was comfortable. He currently stayed in the guestroom, which Mike had cleared out for him earlier, since it had previously been used for storage, or a "junk room", as some would put it.

Exhaling, Gregory sat up and rubbed at one of his eyes. "Guess I better get up. Who cares if I hugged Michael? I…I like him. So what? I just won't get too mushy again." He lowered his hand, frowning deeply. "I wonder if he's going back to Circus Baby's tonight. He better not." He shuddered at the thought of that place. "What even happened to my plan?" Ah, yes, his plan to find answers, and then leave permanently, perhaps giving Michael the info and keycard that he'd discovered on his way out. Yet, here he was, still at Michael's house. Gregory lifted the keycard from where he'd left it on his nightstand, an object he had forgotten until he undressed so his clothes could be properly cleaned. So far, he hadn't handed the card off to Mike. He turned it over in his hand, wincing. "I won't give it to him yet. Maybe I can convince him not to go. We…we already know everything we need to, right? Right." He placed it back on the nightstand and hopped out of bed. After adjusting his matching blue pajamas—which were about the right size, for they appeared to be old kid clothes—he left the guestroom and made his way to the living room.

"Mike?" he said. He stepped towards the couch, scanning the room for him. "Mike?" A small shout came from behind him, startling him. Gregory spun around, his eyes meeting with that of Michael, who stood behind him, his arms loaded with two large boxes.

"Sorry," he said, adjusting the objects he held. "You just scared me. Forgot I gave you those pjs." He continued past Gregory to a far corner of the room, one that the boy had not examined all that much. Another door stood there, which Mike struggled to open while he juggled the boxes as well as he could. Hurrying over, Gregory opened it for him. With a muttered thank you, Michael descended the steps beyond the door. Gregory watched from above, his brow furrowed.

"I didn't know you had a basement!" he called after Michael.

"It's not much!" he called back up. "But if you want to look it over sometime, be my guest." He tromped back up the steps to him, where he softly shut the door. "I was just taking the last bit of stuff I was storing in your room—erm, I mean the guestroom. But I guess it's sort of…your…room—alright, I'm making this strange. I'll just go finish making lunch." He edged around Gregory and headed in the direction of the kitchen. Gregory stared after him, blinking a few times. Shrugging it off, he followed. He watched Mike with crossed arms as he finished up what looked like a pot of spaghetti.

"What do you mean lunch?" Gregory asked.

"Ah," Michael said, speaking through a light chuckle. "It's past 1 p.m., Greg."

"Oh." So it had been a while. He trailed after Michael while he finished loading the plates and carried them to the small dining room table. "Are my clothes ready?"

"They should be." Michael slid a plate over to Gregory as he settled on a chair. "I didn't get nearly as much sleep as you did."

"Yeah, you still look sorta like a raccoon." Gregory pointed at the deep shadows beneath Michael's eyes.

He scoffed and sat across from him. "I'm just…not all that great at getting to sleep." He paused, lifting his fork. "Or sleeping in general."

"Dummy." Gregory shoved a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth. Silence fell over them as Gregory practically devoured his food, and Michael ate more slowly, thoughtfully even. Gregory almost laughed at him when he noticed Michael's glazed eyes. Obviously, the man was zoned out and probably had been for a while now. As soon as he finished, though, he snapped out of it and gathered both their dirty dishes. Gregory did not follow him into the kitchen this time. He stayed put at the table, running his finger along one of its cracks as his thoughts wandered. The question he wanted to ask burned in his mind.

"Psst." Michael nudged him from behind, stealing Gregory away from his thoughts. He hadn't even noticed Mike come up behind him. When he lifted his eyes to him, he was handed a bowl, which contained a decent heap of chocolate ice cream. He blinked down at it, then up at Michael. He laughed and ruffled Gregory's hair at the bewildered expression. "Had some in the freezer I forgot about. Enjoy." He left the room. Gregory stared after him, then with an excited grin, went straight into consuming the ice cream. It felt like forever since he had such a delicious treat, minus the few ice cream cones he'd snagged once or twice in the past.

After he finished, he made sure to leave the bowl and spoon in the sink. He then returned to the living room, where Michael currently sat on the couch. He flipped through the list of channels sitting in his lap, his eyes narrowed in concentration. He glanced up from it when Gregory plopped down beside him.

"Did you enjoy your treat?" Michael asked, shutting the book.

"Definitely," replied Gregory. He couldn't keep back a smug smile. "Are you enjoying searching for more soap operas?"

Michael rolled his eyes and set aside the list. "I'm choosing to ignore that and just go on with what I wanted to say."

"You just don't want to admit it." Gregory poked him in the arm.

Brushing his hand away, Mike said, "I have some errands to run today. If you want to come along, you can pick out some more food you'd like."

"Oh," Gregory said. He took a moment to ponder this news. "But I'm not going to be here too long. Why would you let me pick anything? I'd probably just get a bunch of sweets, anyway."

"Who says I can't spoil you a little?" Michael sent him a fond smile.

Gregory almost smiled back, but it didn't even reach his lips. "Yeah, that'd be great. Um…" He started fiddling with the sleeves of his pajama shirt, resisting the urge to worry on his bottom lip, which still felt quite sore from biting it so much the other night. "By the way, you're…you're not going back to Circus Baby's, right?" Silence. Gregory stopped fidgeting, sending Michael a cautious glance. He looked elsewhere, rubbing at his chin as his eyes flicked across the walls of the room. They finally rested on Gregory.

With a sigh, Mike said, "I'm sorry, Gregory. I get you're probably worried about me, but—"

"Understatement of the year!" Gregory jumped to his feet. "We both almost died last time! Why the heck would you go back?"

"I have to," Michael said, unfazed by his raise in volume. "Besides, I'm used to it. I won't let another mistake happen."

Gregory huffed and began to pace the room, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. "That doesn't make sense. Why do you have to go back? If you already know your psycho dad made those dumb robots to kill, then what's the point?"

"There's more going on than you think," Michael said. "I was sent there to find something, find them…find her. I have to put her back together."

Gregory stopped, shooting Mike a baffled scowl. "I don't know what the heck you're saying."

Michael sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Look, there's more going on than meets the eye. If Elizabeth is truly there, I have to do something. I cannot just leave her."

"Who?"

"My…sister."

"But isn't she—" Gregory stopped talking, for Mike glared. He shut his mouth and fought the sudden fear clamping around his insides. He had never seen the man look at him like this; Michael's anger had always been directed elsewhere, never at him.

The look quickly faded, replaced with one of his usual tired expressions. "I told you there was more going on," he said. "If I've literally communicated with a ghost before, this shouldn't exactly surprise me."

Gregory blinked at him repeatedly. "But ghosts aren't real."

Michael smiled bitterly. "I thought so too. I…don't think they always are, these are more of special circumstances. I tried to set the other children free, but unfortunately, I don't think I succeeded. I want to try and do that for my sister. She deserves to be free." His head bowed. "They all do. Sometimes I wonder if…if…" He trailed off, sighing so deeply it sounded almost painful.

Gregory waited for him to go on, but when he did not, the boy was left to his thoughts. It took him a while of pondering and head scratching until he started to grasp Michael's words. Gregory hadn't always been completely opposed to believing in the supernatural, but he was also grounded. Such things were often just spooky stories to him. But Michael seemed so serious, sorrowful even. Though now confusion and interest pricked Gregory's curiosity once again, he managed to force it away and not pester Michael. They'd had enough talk like this.

"Okay," he said, "I…I guess if it means that much to you, then go. But be careful."

Michael lifted his head and gave an obviously forced smile. "I will, and I'll come back this time. I promise."

Gregory shifted and glanced away. He couldn't help but doubt this promise, wonder if Michael should have even made it. Trying to brush off his worries, he said, "Anyway, I guess I'll go with you on your errands." Forcing a grin, he lifted his eyes back to Mike. "I'm gonna get so much candy that every dentist will drop dead out of horror!"

Michael snorted and got to his feet. "Well, that's a bit violent. Let's stick with enough to give them some chills."

"Eh." Gregory hurried off towards the guestroom. "Do you have my clothes?"

"Yes, I'll get them for you." Michael followed, then veered off into a smaller room, which he assumed was the laundry room. From here, it looked more like a closet though. Gregory waited in the doorway till Michael returned with his clothes and handed them over. "Here. And if you want a new Band-Aid for your face, I have plenty."

Gregory frowned, touching his scar as he took the clothing from Michael. He'd almost forgotten it was uncovered. "Right, that'd be, um, nice." With a quick nod, he ducked into the room and shut the door. After he changed, he and Michael set out in the town. It felt odd for Gregory to actually go shopping but he enjoyed it immensely. Later, he declared that the highlight of the trip was when a rude, fellow customer kept bothering Michael, and he activated his ruder, snarky side, of which Gregory hadn't seen much.

"It was great!" Gregory said through his laughs, squirming in the seat of the car. "The look on that guy's face!" He laughed harder, pointing at Michael. "And…and you sounded so British!"

Michael gave a tight smile. "Not my proudest moment, certainly. Don't repeat anything I said."

Gregory's guffaws only increased.

With a roll of his eyes, Michael pulled into the driveway. "Alright, enough. I'm going to make dinner, and then we can do some things before I leave for my shift."

Gregory sobered at this. "Oh right." He'd almost forgotten Michael was leaving for that deathtrap again. He tried not to think of it while he helped Mike carry in the groceries, but the worries didn't leave him. How could he let the only friend he'd made in ages risk his life like that? How could he let the first person to comfort him and care for him die? Perhaps he was overthinking things. Everything would be alright. Gregory plunked down on the couch, listening to the clatter of dishes as Michael prepared supper. "It's not like I'm going to stay here forever," said Gregory, his hands fisting around the cloth of his shorts, "but I…I don't want him to die. I don't—" he shook his head— "ugh, just shut up already. Everything's gonna be fine." However, he didn't entirely believe his own words.

A sudden hand touched his shoulder, causing him to jerk to the side. Swallowing, Gregory looked in the person's direction. Sure enough, Michael sat there, frowning a bit.

"You talk to yourself a lot, hmm?" he said.

Gregory tensed, his cheeks warming up. "Maybe." Sometimes he forgot other people could hear his self-dialogue.

"You're right, you know." Michael patted his shoulder. "Everything's going to be alright."

"Funny thing to say," Gregory said, growing bitter. "You're literally going up against killer animatronics. Doesn't seem alright to me."

Mike sighed, withdrawing his hand. "I guess all you can do is trust me, Greg. Besides, two of the animatronics are pretty much out for the count now."

"Right, I guess," Gregory said. "What's up with that Circus Baby though?"

"Not sure, honestly," said Michael. "She hasn't led me astray so far, though. She seems to be the only one who doesn't want to kill me, oddly enough. I can't help but wonder if it's because of…" He didn't finish his sentence, clearing his throat loudly and looking away.

"Okay, so she's been friendly except literally putting you in a deathtrap." Gregory crossed his arms. "I don't think you should trust her; she sounds sketchy."

"Don't have many other options right now," Michael said, "but I'll keep in mind that she might not be…entirely truthful." He let out his breath, running a hand down his face. "Out of all the animatronics, though, she's the mostly likely to contain…for Elizabeth to—" he cleared his throat again— "anyway, try not to worry about me too much. I know what I'm doing."

"Is that why you were knocked out and trapped in a death suit last time?" said Gregory.

"Gregory." Michael heaved a sigh. "Look, I get where you're coming from, but I have to—"

"I know, I know. I get it." Gregory waved a hand. "Just worried."

With a slight smile, Michael stood and ruffled Gregory's hair, to which the boy grunted at him angrily. "I'll be back before you know it. Now quit worrying about something that won't happen for a few hours yet."

"Yeah, whatever." Gregory jumped up. "What're you making for dinner?"

"Tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches." Michael headed for the kitchen.

"Ooo!" Gregory followed, quickening his pace to catch up. "I haven't had that in ages." And so, the two spent the rest of their time together eating and watching television. They also played a card game or two, all the while Gregory tried not to fret too much. It felt idiotic to be this concerned for someone else's safety, but he couldn't help it. Especially after what happened last night, Mike meant too much to him now.

"Good luck," Gregory said, watching Michael head for the front door. "Don't be an idiot and get yourself killed, okay?"

Michael stopped by the door, sending a smile over his shoulder. "I'll be fine, Gregory."

The boy forced a nod. "Right. I know."

Nodding back, Michael exited. He shut and locked the door behind him, leaving Gregory alone in the living room with a horrid sense of déjà vu and the feeling he had forgotten something. He simply stood there and stared at the door for quite a while, as if Michael would come back already. But, of course, he did not. With a groan of frustration, Gregory sulked to his room and threw himself onto the bed. Who knew how long he would have to wait? Who knew if Mike would even come back? One thing Gregory knew for sure, though, was that no matter what happened, he wasn't going back to that place. If Michael vanished, then it was over. But Gregory hated to think of that, so he tried to distract himself. Big surprise, it didn't work.

Rolling onto his side, he stared at the ticking clock on the nightstand. His eyes roved from it to an object lying beside it. A keycard.

"Oh shoot!" He snatched it up. "I forgot to give this to Mike." He facepalmed, flopping back onto the mattress. "Whatever. Probably doesn't need it anyway." He examined the card as he lay there quietly, trying to figure out what such a thing could be used for. It certainly didn't look ordinary. After a while, he shoved it into the pocket of his shorts and jumped up. "I have to do something to entertain myself. Otherwise, this'll be torture." He entered the living room, where he sat and reached for the remote. He stilled, upon spotting the door Michael had entered earlier. Curiosity getting the better of him, Gregory got up and headed for it. "He did say I could explore the basement, right? Why not do it?" Opening the door, he descended the stairs into a shadowy area. As soon as he hit a nearby switch, a single bulb hanging from the ceiling flickered on.

With a frown, he treaded through the crowded room. All-in-all, it looked like an ordinary basement, with vaguely dirtied stone walls, a large furnace, and various boxes and other containers. Obviously, this place was mostly used for storage; that's practically what Mike had said. Gregory huffed, plunking down on a nearby box. "Worry sucks," he muttered under his breath. "What the heck am I supposed to do?" He swung his legs over the side of the box and blew a lock of hair out his eyes which flicked around the room. He hoped to find something interesting—perhaps a game or other fascinating object, tucked away in the cluttered mess around him. His gaze stilled beside a large stack of boxes, on the object beside it. Cocking his head, Gregory got up and padded over. From that distance, it certainly didn't look like anything else in the basement. He stopped once he neared it. Blinking several times, it took him a minute to realize what he was looking at—a trapdoor, covered in two more boxes, which leaned against the stack he had first examined.

He got closer and knelt beside it. His fingers ran along the rough wood of the trapdoor. "Why would this be down here?" He'd begun to think this exploration of the basement was useless, but now he doubted this. Straightening, he pressed his hands against the boxes and shoved. His cut arm burned at the action, but after several pushes, he managed to shove off the double boxes. Now there was no denying what lay before him. A trapdoor, sitting perfectly in the middle of the floor. It didn't appear to be locked, and trying the handle, Gregory discovered he could open it with ease. The door clattered to the floor, nearly crushing his feet. He backed up, giving a faint cry. It echoed down the shaft he had revealed. Worrying on his sore bottom lip, he edged closer and peered in. A ladder descended into darkness beneath the floor.

"What the heck is this?" he whispered, eyes narrowed. "Some sort of second basement?" That was the only logical explanation. Putting his hands on his hips, he looked between his new discovery and the exit of the basement. He wasn't sure if Michael knew of this, or if he did, would he want Gregory going down there? Probably not. Gregory tapped his chin. Then again, he was being driven mad, with having practically nothing to do but worry over Mike. "Why not?" He shrugged. The darkness below him did give him pause, though, the memory of the rental shop's pitch-black environment still lingering in his mind. Shuddering, he hurried out of the basement and to the kitchen, where he promptly started fishing through the various drawers beneath the counters. Usually, people had some sort of junk drawer here, right? Something with little necessities, like batteries…or a flashlight, which is exactly what he needed.

He gave a shout of triumph as he flung open a vaguely larger drawer, to discover it was filled with, well, junk. Amongst this, he did indeed find a flashlight. After clicking it on and off a few times, he discovered it still worked well enough. Flashlight in hand, he returned to the trapdoor. I'm crazy, he thought as he turned his body around and set his foot on the first rung of the ladder. I'm insane! What am I doing? Despite these thoughts, he continued to climb, the flashlight tucked beneath his arm and a new determination sending him down into the depths of this… "second basement". If only he knew what he was truly getting himself into.

...

"Welcome back to your last day on the job." Hand Unit's voice boomed through the elevator. "That is, the last day of your first week! Some of the most valued qualities that we like to see in new employees are determination, fearlessness, and a genuine disregard for instinctive self-preservation."

"How kind," said Michael, his voice flat.

"You've earned your one-week bonus which will be given to you in the form of a delightful gift basket, the cost of which will be taken out of your next paycheck," Hand Unit said. "We have gift-baskets containing fruit, nuts, flowers, and of course, the ever-popular cash basket. Using the keypad below, please enter the first few letters of the gift basket you would like to receive."

"Finally, I might get some good money out of this," he said and retrieved the keypad from his belt. "That somewhat makes up for the crap I've had to go through." His fingers stilled near the keypad. As well as setting Elizabeth free…if I can. Sighing, he mashed the keys. "It better give me that cash basket." Just as he expected, the same error message popped up on the black screen.

"It seems you had some trouble with the keypad," Hand Unit said. "I see what you were trying to type, and I will auto correct it for you."

"Please don't be something weird," Michael whispered.

"Thank you for selecting…Exotic Butters." The green words popped up on the screen. Michael stared at it for a good ten seconds, before strapping it back to his belt and letting out the deepest sigh he could muster.

"At this point," he said, "I can't even yell at this piece of junk."

"Please be aware that there are still two technicians on-site today," Hand Unit went on as the elevator descended. "Try to avoid interfering with their work if possible. Also, feel free to ask them why they are still there, and encourage them to go home."

"Just one more thing to deal with," Michael said as the elevator jerked to a halt, and the familiar tune echoed through the area. He waited till it ended, then pressed the red button and ducked into the vent before him. The crawl felt about as long as usual, despite his quickened pace. Thoughts of the last two nights would not leave him, sending him hurrying through the shaft and into the main control module.

"Let's check on Ballora, and make sure she's on her stage." Came the instructions. Michael did the usual, clicking the blue button. The light flickered in Ballora Gallery, illuminating the round stage. Michael went cold the moment he took the sight in, and even once the light turned back off and Hand Unit's next instructions came, Mike was left staring through the glass as he silently tried to comprehend what he had just seen. A body. The silhouette of a corpse, hanged above the stage.

One of the other technicians. The unwanted thought went through his mind. "Oh no," he whispered. The words felt so small after the horrid discovery, unable to fully convey the actual horror behind this death. The animatronics were as violent as ever. Afraid of what he might see, Michael flicked on the light of Funtime Auditorium. As expected, the shadow of another dangling body loomed over the purple curtains. The light flickered back out, leaving Michael with his head in his hands and his breaths gusting in and out of him rapidly.

"Great! It looks like everything is as it should be in Funtime Auditorium," Hand Unit said. "Your task today will involve more maintenance work. Circus Baby had a rough day and is in need of repair. You will be required to reach the parts and service room by once again sneaking through Funtime Auditorium. As always, please proceed with caution."

"Fantastic." Michael released his head. "That…that's just great, Hand Unit." Running his fingers through his hair, he retrieved the flash beacon from his belt. He had no time to stay and think over this new, terrifying discovery. The only thing he could properly do was press on. Otherwise, he could end up just like his former coworkers. With a shudder that shook his entire body, he got down on his hands and knees, and passed through into the darkened Funtime Auditorium.

"Here we go again." He started forward, taking careful steps. His beacon lit up the area, revealing an empty space before him. He took a few steps, then halted and once again lit it up. No sign of Funtime Foxy. Four steps. He activated the beacon. No Foxy. Frowning, he took another four steps and flashed. Still, the animatronic fox was nowhere to be seen. Michael stood still, blinking into the black around him. Either Foxy wasn't here, or he was tricking Mike, like at the end of his third night. Shivering, Michael checked the area, then shuffled forward only three steps. Caution kept him from going farther, and he activated the flash beacon. Funtime Foxy was still absent; Michael didn't even hear any indication of him. He's really gone, isn't he? he thought, repeating the process twice before halting for a while once again. Could I just…walk without stopping or flashing? Shaking his head, he kept to his usual routine, until he reached the door to parts and service. He wasn't taking any chances; he couldn't afford to make a mistake. Last time had been too close of a call. He had someone relying on him now, someone he couldn't let down.

Entering the room, Michael nearly yelled in surprised, greeted by Circus Baby. Finally, he could see the mysterious animatronic that had guided him since nearly the beginning. She sat slumped on the conveyor, without eyes and completely unmoving. He approached her, taking careful steps.

"Great job reaching parts and service," said Hand Unit. "Circus baby has been deactivated for an unknown reason. It is your job to ensure she is structurally stable and secured to the conveyor. Our technicians will take it from ther—" Static cut through his words, leaving Michael in an unsettling silence. To his relief, it didn't last long. Shortly, Circus Baby spoke, though she did not move.

"Can you hear me?" she asked. "I'm pretending. Remember how I said that I could pretend? The cameras are watching, I must be careful not to move. Something bad happened yesterday. Something bad always happens. I don't want it to happen again." Michael gulped, listening silently. "There is something bad inside of me. I'm broken. I can't be fixed. I'm going to be taken to the Scooping Room soon, but it's not going to fix what's wrong with me. What is bad is always left behind." Michael lowered his gaze, her previous words to him about the child she took and Gregory's discovery about the animatronics running through his head. Something bad inside Circus Baby? That could only mean one thing.

His eyes clamped shut as she said, "Will you help me?" He reopened them and looked up. "I want you to save what is good so the rest can be destroyed and never recovered, but you must be careful. Ballora is here, in the room with us." Michael clammed up, his lips parting to form words that wouldn't come. "Ballora will not return to her stage, Ballora will not return to her body. You must be careful; you must remain calm and listen to my voice." As he let out a breath, a new resolve swept over Michael, and he nodded, ready for whatever task lay ahead of him. He'd come this far, hadn't he? He could do this. Even so, he did glance around the darkness for any signs of Ballora, but he could not see her. Wasn't she…scooped? How was she here? "There is a button on my cheek," said Circus Baby, drawing his attention back to her. "You must find it and press it." Michael tried to do just that, glancing her face over, before spotting the lightly colored button just above her right cheek.

He reached to press it, but before his fingers could even brush against the button, she spoke again and startled him away from it, "Someone is coming. This is not part of the plan."

"The…the what?" He finally spoke.

"Do not let them in," she said. "This does not concern them." Michael turned in time to see the handle of the door turn. Moving swiftly, he went over and grabbed it. The door jolted several times and Michael pressed against it, keeping out whoever stood on the other side. They didn't feel all that strong, just barely moving the door past Mike's strength. Who was this? Another technician? Vanessa? An animatronic, like a Bidybab or Funtime Foxy? He decided not to question it for the time being, keeping the door perfectly in place as it shook and jerked a bit.

"What the heck?" A familiar young voice came from the other side. "Just open already, you stupid door!"

Immediately, Michael seized up. "Gregory?"