Down With the Ship

Michael didn't do much when he got back home; he went back to bed for fifty minutes to get any sleep possible, failed miserably, and then started working on more Purified Remnant. Fredbear was mercifully quiet for some reason, and Michael wasn't going to question it. The process took him until it was time for him to go back to work, but he'd made two extra rings of solid prima materia. They wobbled and glowed with unnatural vigor, but it was controlled. Stable. Not like the pulsing, madly vibrating liquid Remnant still in the tank. He wrapped them up in cloth he kept nearby specifically to handle Remnant and hid them in an old dresser outside the side room, somewhere easily missed by anyone but him. One could never be too careful.

He stomped back up the basement stairs, to his room, since he needed something for tonight. He had to talk to Foxy. He had no idea what he was going to say, but he'd been making up shit on the fly ever since he took the job at the first pizzeria, so he just decided to let God sort it out. Michael pulled open one of the drawers in the master bathroom, where he kept both bathroom necessities and anything that one would normally find in a nightstand, since he didn't have one. He rummaged around, moving aside old toothbrushes, a razor, bacterial wipes, and a tangle of three pairs of earbuds that no longer worked until he found it.

It was a badge, brass-colored and molded into the shape of a skull and crossbones, but the skull was of a fox instead of a human. Below that was a rectangular shape, and embossed on it were the words "First Mate." Michael held it in the palm of his hand, studying it the same way he'd done a few months before. It was the only thing that survived the fire at Freddy and Friends' unscathed, because Michael had taken it home and put it here, the only place he felt he could store it with some dignity. It was the only thing he'd had taken home with him before he pulled Paige and Fredbear out of the fires when the whole place collapsed.

Tightness suddenly gripped Michael's chest and he squeezed his eyes shut. He cursed to himself and swore he was not going to cry. He had no reason to cry over this. He wasn't going to cry about being hugged by an animatronic fox. He wasn't going to get emotional about being hugged by his childhood idol. He wasn't going to think about how it was the first time he'd been shown kindness from anyone in years. He wasn't...

Michael bowed his head and squeezed his eyes shut. Tears began leaking out. His breath hitched a couple times and he let out a choked sob, then another. He leaned forward and slammed his arms on the counter to steady himself and let himself cry. Amazingly, however, it didn't last long, so he left the bathroom and paced a little bit, trying to think of what to say, imaging that maybe, just maybe, he'd walk into Pirate's Cove or whatever it was now, and Foxy would come out and talk to him, and he'd see the badge, and Michael could perfectly picture how he'd look when the recognition sparked in his eyes and they'd hug again and talk like old friends and everything would actually be fine for once...

His heart wanted it to be so, but his mind knew it wasn't going to be that way. But he'd do it, just to have an excuse to talk to Foxy again. He sniffled and wiped the last of the tears from his eyes and looked around the room. He'd cried before when he was still working at the old location, sure, but that had been borne out of fear and regret. He hadn't shed tears out of pure grief since...He paused and stared off into space, gaze locked on the kitchen, or more accurately, the wall between his bedroom and the kitchen; he realized he'd felt true loss when the pizzeria burned down but had been too numb to actually consider the ramifications until now.

"Michael, are you okay...?" came Paige's voice from the attic. Michael jumped and whirled around to see the hatch was ajar and he could see the silhouette of Paige's head; she was kneeling down and looking at him with those white dot eyes of hers.

Michael paused a second to recompose himself and clear his throat. "Fine, Paige...I'm fine. Just...imagining, that's all."

Paige kept staring at him for a minute before she muttered, "Okay," and slowly lowered the hatch back down.

He watched the wood click back into place and stayed there for a few seconds to make sure Paige wasn't going to follow and pester him. Nothing happened, and he walked out to the front hall and put his shoes on. As he made his way to the car, he stopped short and debated with himself for a few seconds. In the end, he decided to delay going in and instead walked around into the backyard of the house.

There used to be a playset back here, made of wood, as well as monkey bars; they were taken down years ago. On the back patio, there used to be a picnic table with a parasol and a grill; the picture of the American Dream. The grill had been sold off seven years ago and the parasol was somewhere in the attic. Michael didn't care about those old memories, though. Hell, he was probably better off without most of them. He just marched his way into the forest about thirty feet away, lifting his legs up over the tall reeds and wildflower bushes growing around the perimeter.

It was quieter the further in one went, obviously, and it was an old forest of rocky mountain and bigtooth maple and boxelder. Michael couldn't help but look around. He remembered what he, Charlie, and John sometimes got up to when they were kids, things like digging around for cool bugs, racing each other up trees, and turning how long they could balance on logs into a contest. Evan never wanted to join because the woods spooked him and Elizabeth hated getting dirty. But Michael wasn't there for a trip down memory lane. He scanned the ground after he had walked a dozen feet into the forest and searched the ground for any significantly large chunk of wood, which he eventually found after prying off a loose, hanging branch and ripping off the extra limbs until he had a thick, three inch cylindrical stump.

He quickly pocketed the piece of the wood into one of the outer pockets of his coat as he trudged back to his car, got in, started it up, and made his way to work.

Another hasty parking job in the back of the mall complex, another quick change of clothes and Michael was right back in the hall that led to the security office. He looked around at the retreating guests all making their way back to the foyer and tried to spot Vanessa; he figured she would still be hanging around somewhere, but he never caught a glimpse of her uniform or blonde ponytail anywhere in the crowd. It became rather obvious why when he entered the security office and sat down at the desk.

Someone had left a note for him. Handwriting looked familiar. Michael picked it up and read:

Hey, Mike! Didn't see you going out today. Maybe you were a couple minutes late, maybe we just missed each other. Either way, nothing of note you need to worry about for your shift, though there is something wrong with the vents in the kitchen. I keep hearing banging noises coming from them and I'm guessing it's a raccoon, or a squirrel, or maybe a badger, or something. Probably rabid, knowing my luck. Told Vince about it, but he said we don't have the money to hire an exterminator. Typical, huh? Just steer clear until I can scare it away for good. Good luck and see you tomorrow!

P.S.: You should introduce me to your friends sometime! They look like a fun bunch.

~Vanessa

Michael's lips pursed as he read the postscript Vanessa had left behind and was silently thankful he hadn't run into her on the way in. Questions about the company he kept were best saved for later (preferably after he talked to Evan and drilled into his head that his name was not "Evan Afton" for the entire duration Vanessa was within earshot). He folded the note up and put it in his pocket and sat down on the trusty old chair. Turning all the monitors on revealed everything was as it should be; the last of the guests were trickling out of the front lobby, STAFF-bots were cleaning up messes left behind and rearranging decorations, and the animatronics were all in their greenrooms and accounted for.

Michael nodded, satisfied, and picked up the monitor from the desk before walking back out of the office. Though apprehension still gripped his heart, he knew he had to face the music sooner or later.

He absentmindedly adjusted the First Mate pin on his shirt.

The walk back through the mall was quick and painless. Michael watched other STAFF-bots finish their work, mopping floors or polishing railings and other such menial tasks. It was mainly a way to distract himself. He went down the stairs to the first floor and walked all the way to the north end of the building where Kids Cove was, retracing his steps from the first time he had been in the building. Soon enough, he'd found himself outside the attraction, and stepped toward the door. There was a lone STAFF-bot standing guard in front of it, and Michael held up his badge, which the robot scanned and registered. It thanked him, but Michael ignored it as he passed through the threshold and found himself on the raised platform overlooking the Cove.

A depressed space in the complex, filled with props to make it look like a busy port town, rocks, some coral, a lighthouse slide up against the far wall and a jungle gym. On the opposite side of the jungle gym, against the south wall, was a large pirate ship with a backdrop of a dock.

His footsteps echoed a bit too much for his liking as he turned and made his way down the stairs and onto the aerated rubber of the main floor. Michael slowly made his way to the middle of the area and he turned himself around a few times to take in the scale of it all; even as a full-grown adult, he felt small looking up at the playsets and set dressing. After stewing in his own apprehension for a minute, however, he slowly inhaled and did his best to swallow the anxiety. "H...Hello...?" he called, to no response. "Uh...Foxy...? Are you...are you there...?" he tried again. Kids Cove remained eerily silent. Michael inhaled again and called out "...Hello?" a little louder.

It remained quiet for a few seconds and Michael was about to try one last time before he left before he heard creaking coming from the south side and turned around just in time to see Foxy himself step out of the shadows from the threshold that led into the large ship. He looked the same as he did five months ago; like no time had passed at all.

Michael felt himself momentarily starstruck for a minute before he realized the silence in the room was almost crushing; Foxy was staring at him expectantly and if Michael didn't know any better, he looked like he was trying to recall Michael's face from somewhere and drawing up a blank. Taking the cue, he stepped forward, towards the boat and cleared his throat. "Uh, hi there, um, Foxy, I was..." He trailed off, trying to come up with a pre-prepared speech on the fly. A quick glance up at the animatronic himself showed his head was tilted and an eyebrow was raised. Michael began talking before his brain could even really process what he was saying and explained, "I've been kind of, well, making my rounds for...for the past couple days. Trying to get the layout of this place straight in my head...and I'll be honest with you, it's gotten boring and I didn't have anywhere else to really go. And...and I didn't visit for a couple days, so I...kinda feel like an arsehole."

The fox did nothing but eye him for a minute. A lesser man would've cracked under the pressure; Michael knew Foxy was sizing him up. And Foxy couldn't help but feel like he'd seen the man before. Racking his artificial brain, he scanned the faces of the adults he could see on the viewing platform above for the past week and eventually came up with a man with long brown hair wearing a purple trenchcoat. His eyes narrowed and he took a couple confident steps forward before gingerly stepping off the side of the ship and landing on the ground before he continued to approach Michael.

He was a foot taller than Michael was, at least. Michael had to bend his neck backwards to look into Foxy's eyes, even if only slightly, when he stood right in front of him. Foxy continued to look him up and down, and after a minute, he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "What's yer name, boy?" he asked after a minute.

"Michael."

"Ye got some spine, Michael, comin' in 'ere," he mused. "Ye been workin' 'ere for almost a week and just now decide to wander into me cove? And were snoopin' around one day besides." He paused and took a step back. Then his inner showman declared, half-jokingly, "What makes ye think I'll forgive this slight against me honor?"

Michael went silent for another moment, seemingly considering Foxy's words. It was a farce. With a calm, practiced air (he was sweating like a stuck pig), Michael reached into his pocket and pulled out the small wooden rod he picked up from his backyard and tossed it over to Foxy. With a smooth, flowing grace that was completely unbecoming of the rough-around-the-edges fox, he snapped his right hand up to catch and regard it without even flinching. After realizing what it was, feeling the solid wood on his hand, turning it over, Foxy froze for a moment, and then looked back at Michael.

He was trying very hard not to smile. "That answer your question?"

Foxy's face was confused for just a second before his lips split into a wide grin. Michael didn't know if he was mentally unwell for thinking that seeing Foxy's razor-sharp teeth in his smile again was a sight for sore eyes. "Heh. Guess ye can't be that bad," Foxy chuckled as he pocketed the wood stump. He raised his head back up, eyes focusing on the badge Michael was wearing. He'd noticed it before, but hadn't gotten a good look at it, and figured if there was a time to comment on it, it would be now. While he knew that badge was paraphernalia relating to him, he hadn't handed out any of those since the Wonderworld opened. He nodded to Michael's chest with his head and asked, "'Specially if yer wearin' one'a me badges. How'd ye come by that?"

Michael froze. He hadn't expected Foxy to actually ask about where he got the badge. He couldn't tell him about how the old fox had pinned to Michael personally, that would...be catastrophically bad. Worse yet, that would be awkward to try and explain. That might damage any relationship that might be forming. So he defaulted to his preferred method of handling awkward questions:

Lie.

But lie in such a way he could fish for the truth. "Ah, that, I...uh...I went to Freddy and Friends' Pizzeria. I was...twelve, I think. Met you. You gave me this badge after, eh...after story time. You don't...remember that do, you...?"

Foxy paused and brought a hand to his chin, scratching it thoughtfully. "Hrmm...Can't say I do, lad," he admitted after a minute. "Anything before the past...month or so...be hard te remember. We were...different then." He trailed off into silence, something that Michael didn't feel comfortable breaking. In fact, he didn't even feel comfortable looking at Foxy. After another minute, Foxy finally said, "'Least, that's what them engineers said."

Michael just made a low grunt in response. He racked his brain for a minute before he decided to pose a question he was pretty sure he knew the answer to. "Well, speaking of their engineers...you wouldn't happen to know where Bonnie is, would you?" he asked tentatively.

At that, Foxy's face got a bit more dour and he hung and shook his head. "'Fraid not, lad. He was only here for four days." Michael nodded glumly; that point had been established by Vanessa and with another person (and an animatronic no less) backing her up, he figured that part was true. "He kept glitchin' out," Foxy continued, "always seemed confused 'bout where he was, his mind seemed stuck in the past." Another pause. It was then Foxy did remember something important, and he slowly lifted his head up to look at Michael. He narrowed his eyes and took a slow step forward, taking in every detail of the man. "Actually...now that ye mention it...I remember..." he began. Michael raised his head to look at him, a spark of curiosity alighted, threatening to catch and turn into an inferno. "He left his room one night, came wandering by in a daze. I think he...he kept callin' fer someone named 'Mike.'"

Michael felt his heart drop through the floor. Bonnie's status went from "android of interest" to "priority fucking one."

Foxy paused for a moment, no doubt having noticed that Michael's face had gone pale and his body had gone stiff. He raised himself back to his full height and concluded, "Might ye be the lad he was askin' after...?"

"...Maybe," Michael admitted after a very long, uncomfortable silence. He quickly erased his anxiety (or at least pretended to), and straightened up. "I'll know for sure when I find him. I don't know what happened to him, but I'm gonna bring him back," he said.

Foxy just kept eying him suspiciously. Michael didn't seem like he was shaping up to be a threat, but...something was off about him. "Is there somethin' ye ain't tellin' ol' Foxy...?" he finally pressed.

To his surprise, Michael just looked at him tiredly. "Explaining it would take a week."

"...I got time te listen."

"Do you have time to believe me?" he shot back.

There was no right answer to that question. There was no good answer to that question, either, and Michael seemed cagey at best. Foxy had no idea how to respond other than a quiet, "I...see," and let the subject die.

Neither of them really knew how long the silence lingered after that, but eventually Michael looked up, got the courage to speak again, and cleared his throat. He really, really tried his best to not sound like an asshole. "Uh, since I came all the way here, would you tell me one of your stories...?" he pleaded. Foxy's eyebrows both shot up, taken off guard, and he stared at Michael wide-eyed. No adult had ever asked him that question. Michael, on the other hand, guessed he'd just overstepped a boundary and swiftly placated, "B-but if you don't want me, uh, pestering you anymore, that's fine, I'll just go back to the office—"

"Si'down, laddie," Foxy interrupted. Michael snapped his head up to look at him as he had been turning to make for the stairs back up to the viewing platform, and it was his turn for his eyes to go wide. Foxy just chucked to himself mentally (rare sight, managing to make someone who wasnt that Vanessa lady do a double-take) and sat down on the ground, then gestured to his left, inviting Michael to sit. Michael himself was frozen like a deer in the headlights for a solid two minutes before he dumbly made his way over and sat down. He was rigid the whole time, an automaton on autopilot. If Foxy noticed, he didn't seem to care. He just grinned again and explained, "I don't mind, might actually be easier since I ain't got a bunch'a little'uns runnin' around. And besides that, I can get a bit more..." He trailed off and then, after a moment of thought, he leaned in, his grin getting wider. "Shall we say, creative with me fights!"

This time, Michael couldn't help the smile that crossed his lips.

The Temple Square district of Salt Lake City was never loud, even on Friday and Saturday nights. Elizabeth liked that, let her focus on work. Ky & Flake Law wasn't a very prolific name either, and while that was fine, they were a law firm, which meant the paperwork was a hassle no matter the case. She'd spent all of the previous afternoon and the morning going through the preliminary paperwork for a civil dispute case; plaintiff Seilah Behunin accused her business partner, Miracle Kunz (yes, that was her first name) of embezzling funds from her company to fund lavish vacations to Monaco. It seemed pretty open-and-shut to her, because while some of the accounting didn't add up, it was more because Seilah seemed to be trying to file a frivolous lawsuit against someone she didn't like. She snorted derisively. Ky & Flake never got anything fun, like really heated divorce cases. Or premeditated homicide.

Her office was at least comfortable enough to do the work needed to fill out the seemingly endless amounts of forms. It was square with four bookshelves, two against the left wall and two behind her desk, filled with books on law and court procedure. A window was on the back wall, separating the bookshelves, and in the right corner, she kept a plastic horsetail fern. In the center of the room was her desk, fine polished oak, an antique lamp, and folders to sort her work. It was just unfortunate that she'd gotten back into her "zone" when her phone rang.

Elizabeth's head snapped up to the side of her desk where she always kept it, face down, and snatched it up to look at the caller ID. When she did, she just smiled and accepted the call. "Hi, Ev!" she said as she held it up to her ear.

"Hi, Liz!" came Evan's chipper voice in reply. "Am I interrupting you?"

That just made her scoff a bit as she turned in her swivel chair and crossed her legs. "No, Ev, but I'd still make time for you. What's up?"

"Oh, nothing much. Just wanted to check in with you, see how business is going."

Elizabeth pressed her lips together and shrugged. "Oh, as well as it usually is. Dreadfully slow, though, since Mister Flake is out of town at the moment. Not much progress being made on...anything, really."

"Ah. Bit boring, innit?"

"A bit," Elizabeth confirmed. "How's things with you?"

"Oh, very much similar, but...different," Evan said. He paused. "Believe it or not, it's...partially the reason I was calling you."

That got Elizabeth to raise an eyebrow. "Really...? What happened? What's going on?"

"Well..." There was hesitance in his voice. Somehow, Elizabeth figured she was going to regret asking. "It's...it's about Michael."

And just like that, she was right. She groaned and turned back to face her desk, preparing to set the phone down. "Great. Is he dead yet?"

"No...b-but please don't put the phone down!" Elizabeth groaned again; damn that man and his uncanny prescience for her actions. All she knew at this point was that Evan needed to make his point quickly before she lost all interest. "Listen, about M-Michael...he disappeared for five months...I mean, I couldn't even get him to show his face, so I thought he was actually, um, dead..." Elizabeth had to admit, she was intrigued, and she hated herself for it; Michael going so quiet for several months he managed to make his brother think he was dead? Impressive. And almost a little worrying. "...He's hiding something," Evan concluded.

She rolled her eyes. "Captain Obvious comes to the rescue. And I would care about this, why?" she huffed.

She could almost hear Evan deflate on the other side. "...I dunno. I just thought that...maybe...if you came down here...you could help figure out what's going on with him? You're a lawyer. You're smart. You can help, right?" She paused to think, about if she could stomach looking at her older brother again and about how to break it to Evan if she did decide it wasn't worth getting involved. However, her silence motivated him to speak up, perhaps in an attempt to garner sympathy for Michael. "...I don't want him to suffer, because...I mean, I don't think he knows, but I can see it. Whatever happened to him is...weighing him down. I wanna help."

Another pause and Elizabeth leaned back in her chair, letting out a long sigh. She made sure to move the phone receiver away so Evan wouldn't be able to hear her. She kept thinking, weighing her options. Vacillating between saying "no" and keeping to herself, but denying closure, or saying "yes" and being forced to deal with her idiot older brother who ruined everything.

And then, she heard Evan shout through the receiver so loud, she heard him without needing to bring it back up to her ear. "Please, Liz!" he cried. "If you won't do it for Michael, will you at least do it for me?"

That got her to pause. Michael was a dummy, that much was true, but Evan...he was the youngest child. And no matter if he was a bigshot CEO or not, she was older, and she was going to look after him.

Even if it meant opening her old wounds and bleeding all over the floor.

She raised the phone back up to her ear and muttered, "...Alright. Fine. I'll see you in a couple days, maybe the...fourteenth?"

There was no response, no doubt because Evan's jaw was hanging open from the shock. Elizabeth allowed herself a small smile just picturing it. After a few seconds, his voice came back through. "Uh, r-right! Lovely! I'll, um, get the house ready, since you, uh, I guess you'll wanna stay with me...and I'll do all the cooking and cleaning, y-you just get down here soon, okay?"

"Alright." She paused a second and then added, mostly jokingly, "You better not make me regret this."

Evan protested from his side, just a few "No"s and "Of course not"s before they both said goodbye and hung up. And then Elizabeth was left there to fully comprehend what she'd just agreed to and let out a long, drawn out, tired sigh. She wasn't worried about taking some PTO from the job, hell, she'd earned it. The people a little higher up on the totem pole might grumble about asking for time off on such short notice, but she knew she wasn't in danger of getting fired or disciplined for it.

She was mostly trying to sort through the simmering resentment she felt when the nights got cold and she thought back to those days when she was a little girl. What she could have done differently and how. If she could have said anything differently to her dad. If she could have warned Uncle Henry about how he was overstepping his boundaries and that her dad was getting angrier by the day. Something, anything. But no matter how she sliced it, there was only so much she could have done, because the mistakes of the past boiled down to one simple fact:

If Michael had been a better son, her dad would still be alive.

She grit her teeth as she grabbed some extra forms. She swore to herself she'd get through at least half of her "to-do" pile before requesting a week off.

A/N: Shorter chapter. Next chapter we're doing the time warp (again). Can you tell I have no idea how law and civil courts work?

Also, we finally get to meet Elizabeth. She's kind of a bitch (at least when Michael's involved).