COIN
••• Holy Ghost •••

but i'm not your holy ghost

when your wrists are bound

it's a deadly sin to give a man that crown

•••••

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  Michael hurried his adopted, metal body across the complex, aiming for the atrium's gift shops.

  He didn't want to leave Y/n alone for too long - he knew all too well how someone's demons could twist and shapeshift into something far more horrid when they were alone. He'd been there, he'd watched his horrors manifest themselves into things that would keep him up at night.

  His father, a bloody-mawed Fredbear, the desperate, horrified look of Baby's face as she held his broken body.

  Michael needed this brief solitude to cycle through his own haunting nightmares that had resurfaced with a burning vengeance, hanging onto him like a smoky cape and choking his artificial throat.

  That was the pizzeria, he knew it was. He could recall the mismatched tiles, the placements of the doorways leading off into deeper sections within the small diner. He could map out where each animatronic met their fiery demise, where each soul was set free. Why the hell was it under the Pizzaplex?

  It should've died. It should've died with him.

  But he didn't really die, did he?

  Michael ran a hand down his metal face as his loud, clanging footsteps paced across the atrium's desolate floors. It shouldn't have been so complicated, it hadn't been complicated in the seven years he was there, possessing Freddy. Why did things have to get so complicated?

  He thought he was okay here. He thought he was safe. He thought he'd left the horrors of his family's curse behind him, but here he was, and there it was, his divine retribution; watching, waiting, biding its time to strike.

  There was something down there. Michael could feel it - a sharp sting to his soul, a crushing, clawed hand around his conscience. It grew to suffocate him the further he went down those desolate hallways, and he briefly wondered how Y/n could even breathe down there. How was she not drowning in the thick air? How was she still alive?

  Did she feel it, too? The vapid, disgusting curl of something so blatantly evil that there truly was no other word to describe it? Could she feel it chipping away at her mind, could she feel it scraping at her soul? Did she feel it in the way those endos with their purple eyes hunted her down the halls, calling for her blood? Did she feel it in the way her life was almost claimed by Freddy's the way Michael's should've been?

  His footsteps ceased as a pressure grew within his conscience. It was of horror, shock, a panic attack in a way that his robot body wasn't equipped to deal with. But he could feel it still, the critical need for breath despite not needing to breathe, the desire to cry despite not being able to cry.

  It swelled like a migraine instead. He felt dizzy. He stumbled against a crowd barrier and it crumpled like paper under his weight. 

  Michael had remnant. Michael had the Afton curse. If Y/n died...

  Y/n shouldn't have been down there. She shouldn't have been at a Freddy's location in the first place, fuck it, she knew how dangerous it always inevitably was. And as much as Michael had grown complacent over the past seven years, it was clear that even the Pizzaplex wasn't detached from the past the franchise dragged behind them and the monsters it hid in plain sight.

  She should leave. He needed to tell her to leave and never return. She deserved to live something that resembled a normal, stable life, one without him and without this haunted monolith of a franchise that had imprisoned Michael his entire existence.

  He never should've let her sit next to him under that tree. He never should've read that book with her. He never should've selfishly taken her in as a little beam of light and happiness and soaked in the good that she emitted. He never did deserve her - and look at where they were, now. Look at what he'd done to her.

  The metal barrier snapped under his paw. Michael flinched back, and the hollowing reminder that he wasn't human had returned with vengeance. He hugged his stomach. His metal creaked with strain.

  It hadn't hit him like this for years - the phantom pain of losing a human body, the strange oddity of having wires and plating instead of tendons and skin. It hurt but there was no pain. It ached, but there was nothing there to ache. Even his decaying corpse felt somewhat more normal than this.

  Y/n would've been better off without him. Y/n still would be better off without him. And what was he doing? The same thing he'd always done; taking this good person and pretending to be something deserving of her love, just like he did when he was alive. Drinking in her golden presence, worshipping her like the goddess she was, as if he wasn't an Afton, as if he wasn't a monster.

  He was just like his father. Stealing the good for himself, not through killing, but from leeching it like the disgusting fucking parasite he was and always had been.

  "Freddy?"

  It was Chica. He hadn't heard her approach over the spitting, riled self-deprecation looping his mistakes and his faults in his head. She knelt beside him and patted his back.

  "Are you okay?" she asked. Her voice was quiet for once, soft and worried as she watched this rock of a being crumble to dust on the floor of the atrium. "What's wrong?"

  Michael grabbed at his arms. They dented under his hold, concaving under his stress. Warnings flashed before his artificial vision.

  Y/n needed to leave - but how could he let her go after finally getting her back in his life? Eight years he'd forgone himself the luxury that was her. Eight years he'd imagined her with someone else, happy and safe and protected from the Aftons, protected from him.

  It was his fault, it was his convoluted, frightened way of thinking after what'd happened to him that had pushed Michael to abandon her. It was him, a monster, a living corpse, that had made the decision that Y/n could do better off than living in seclusion with a disgusting parasite of a zombie.

  She didn't deserve that.

  So why the fuck did he act as if she deserved him as a fucking robot?

  "I've got this, Chica." Bonnie replaced where the chicken animatronic had crouched and, after reassuring her that Freddy'd be fine, she left. When her footsteps had faded into silence and they were alone, the bunny turned to Freddy with a rub to his shoulder pad. "Mike? Michael? What's up, big guy? Are you having another one of those- those... er, scared attacks? Panic! Panic attacks?"

  It shouldn't have gone like this. None of it should've gone like this. Why did he have to always get those he loved hurt? Why did his father have to fucking kill those kids in the first place? Why did William have to push him to bully Evan to the brink of killing him? Why did Y/n have to be so kind, so perfect, so loving and loveable?

  "Mike?" Bonnie asked. He gently pried Freddy's fingers from his arms and pulled him to his feet. Bonnie's hands planted themselves on the bear's shoulders and hoped that it was enough to ground his friend a little bit more in reality. "What's going through your processor? I... heard about what happened. Is it because of that?"

  Freddy found Bonnie's eyes. His life was so much less complicated when Bonnie was trying to kill him instead of being the only one who knew his secret for the past seven years.

  "She needs to get out of here."

  "What?" Bonnie asked with a bewildered look. "Y/n? Why? But I like her."

  "I was a fool," Freddy seethed as he pulled himself away from Bonnie's friendly touch. "I've always been such a- but, fuck, she makes me- god dammit-"

  Bonnie wasn't a stranger to these outbursts of panic and frustration, though never to this extent. It'd been a while since the last one, a couple of years at the least. Clearly, his attacks had returned with vengeance.

  Bonnie's ears drooped. He'd always hated seeing Michael like this. He felt useless and stupid, not having the emotional human experience to know how to handle the situation. Michael was always so good at reassuring the others, whether it was Roxy feeling like she wasn't good enough, or Monty being afraid of his own anger. Michael was the big brother of the animatronics, but who was his shoulder to lean on?

  With a start, Bonnie realised. It was Y/n, of course. It used to be Y/n. She was his shoulder, she was his rock. How could he live up to such legacy? How could he make a sorry attempt of reassurance when poor, oblivious Y/n was only a few rooms down? All Bonnie could offer were his large, metal ears and hope to pull together some reassuring words.

  Not for the first time, Bonnie wished the others knew Michael's secret, if only to get some different points of view, to bounce ideas off of one another. But it was Michael's to tell, not Bonnie's, and he'd wanted to leave his old life behind as much as he could. The less who knew the better.

  Y/n threw a spanner in the works of that plan, obviously. Or, more appropriately, she'd thrown in a spanner, set the cogs on high, poured gasoline and oil and then struck a match and stepped back to watch the fire.

  "Why don't you just... tell her who you are?"

  "It's not that simple, Bonnie," Michael sighed. He resumed his way across the atrium. The bunny tilted his head as he followed.

  "It's not?" he asked, genuinely confused. "It's just... a few words? 'Hello, Y/n, I am Michael.'"

  Freddy turned his eyes to Bonnie with a taken-aback glare. "Your impersonation of my voice is less than desirable."

  "I thought I was spot on, actually."

  Freddy exhaled a huff through his snout and began picking out clean clothes from the racks of the gift shop. Sweat pants - she always did like sweat pants when she was relaxing. A new hoodie, of course, as the complex did run a little cool at night and he didn't want her catching a chill.

  "You should bring her this," Bonnie said and held up a Freddy Fazbear shirt with a smug smile. Said specimen's ears pinned back, unamused. "Oh, come on! It'll be funny!"

  "I'll tell her that it was you who picked it out," he warned as Bonnie dropped it onto the pile. The bunny merrily shrugged. "Do you think she needs socks?"

  "Do feet get cold?" Bonnie asked.

  "Y/n did used to complain about having cold toes in winter..." Michael mused. He picked out a pair of fluffy socks with the complex's logo on the side, and then another pair just in case. She used to press her toes against my legs under the covers to warm them up.

  "So why don't you tell her?" Bonnie asked as he leant against a shelf with his chin on his hand and watched Freddy peruse the selection of woollen beanies. What if her ears get cold? "I mean, I guess it would be a little weird; a fleshie and a robot dating, but I've heard worse. Monty's done worse."

  Freddy's eyes shot to Bonnie. Michael felt his soul freeze in horror. "What has Monty done?"

  "Ah-haha, I'm just pulling your tail 'ta make sure your listening," Bonnie snickered. "He's joked about it, though. You know, dating a human. They seem fun."

  "You better not say that around any staff members."

  Bonnie's easy-going grin dropped in a look of exasperation. "Yes, dadbear. Now answer the question."

  Michael sighed. He thought back to when Y/n had yelled his name - his real name - at his face, and then grimaced at the memory of the look of pure agony and rage that had twisted her expression. He'd genuinely thought that she knew who he was at that moment.

  "... I'm scared."

  Bonnie's ears tilted. "Scared?"

  "I'm terrified," he murmured. He slowly, sluggishly picked out a pair of gloves and added it to the haul. "She... she hates me, and rightfully so. If she found out that..." He broke off to inhale shakily. Bonnie waited for Michael gather his wits to finish his sentence. "If Y/n finds out who I really am, she might never return."

  "... isn't that selfish?" Bonnie asked slowly, hesitantly. "Keeping her in the dark just so you can be sure that she'll stick around?"

  "Yes, Bonnie," Michael said with a heavy weight to his soul, a repulsive sadness that trickled from his words like wet mould. He stared down at his armful of clean clothing and a sick sense of humour made his desire to cry return - what did he expect, that some clean clothes would give her favour in return? That same favour that he didn't deserve in the first place? "Yes, it is."

  Parasite. Leech, the voice in his head scorned. Nothing but an Afton. Nothing but a monster.

⚡️🧸🤖🧸⚡️

  I arrived at the Pizzaplex with no Freddy to greet me.

  Frowning, I limped inside. It was empty, as it usually was for seven in the morning on a Sunday, and my uneven footsteps echoed deeply within the tiled, neon cavern of a lobby. This wasn't like Freddy. He couldn't be mad at me again, could he? What did I do to make him angry this time?

  Okay, yeah, granted he wasn't pleased about my leg almost being torn to damn chicken fillets, but who would, right? He'd been amicable enough for the rest of my shift. He got me warm clothes (he immediately insisted that it was Bonnie who chose the Freddy shirt, which amused me to great lengths) and we sat in content silence while I repaired his hand and drummed out the dents in his arms that I hadn't noticed before. There was no hint of him being unpleased with me.

  Or, well, maybe 'content' was the wrong word to describe our silence. I was certainly cycling through what had happened again and again, a terrible movie that I couldn't escape on loop. Maybe his silence wasn't in content, either. Maybe we were both just suffering and didn't know what to say.

  He'd ordered me to rest until my shift was over. I didn't dare let myself sleep. And last night at home, when I couldn't stay awake any longer and finally closed my exhausted eyes, all I could see were those awful metallic monsters, clawing their way after me down a dark hallway that never seemed to end, screeching, screaming, howling for my blood.

  So, I didn't sleep that well, anyway.

  I worriedly stumbled my way to the escalator stairs and rode it to the top, biting my lip in thought the entire time. What could have set this off? He'd never missed a morning without ample reason before. The elevator door dinged open just as I was about to start toward Faz-Pad to get my morning caffeine fix.

  "Oh," I said as I pulled myself to a stop when the doors opened. It was Freddy. I approached, coffee momentarily forgotten, and eyed his recently replaced hand briefly. It looked like it was working well; it hadn't fallen off, at least. "You're running a bit late."

  "I didn't think you would be here," Freddy said as he stared down at me. His expression was stern, like that of a disappointed father after catching his teen in the middle of sneaking off to a party. My brows raised in confusion.

  "... why not? It's a Sunday," I said as I resumed my walk to Faz-Pad. He kept in step behind me, like some big burly bodyguard. "If you didn't think I was going to be at work, why are you here?"

  "Your clock-in came up in the system," Freddy answered. His hand gently grabbed my shoulder and turned me to face him. "Y/n, you're injured. You should be in bed."

  "Gee, big guy," I joked. "Get me a drink before you take me to my mattress."

  I froze, mid-smile, as I clocked what I had just impulsively blurted out without thought. Heat blossomed over my still face, and Freddy faltered in equal surprise, eyes widening and ears swivelling this way and that in shock.

  Just do it. Just bite my fucking head and get it over with, please god.

  "What?" he spluttered.

  "What?" I shrieked as I jumped back into animation. "Nothing, I said nothing! I don't know what you're talking about! I'm gaslighting you, this is gaslighting, you didn't hear shit, Fazbear."

  Freddy stared at me. I stared back for a tense, brief second as we both juggled with not knowing what the hell to do, before I dashed for an escape by elevator. I limped swiftly inside and I promptly punched the close-door button.

  Freddy was still gazing after me with a lost look on his face when I risked one last glance. I could practically see his smart little processor calculating behind his eyes, rolling and rerolling what was our intensely awkward little interaction. Our staring contest was abruptly severed by the elevator doors snapping shut. I leant against the wall and pushed a hand through my hair.

  "Fuck," I bewilderedly laughed to myself as the glowing lights began to rise in number. "Oh, I fucked up. God-" I clutched at my temples and squeezed my eyes shut. "Why is your head so damn empty?!"

  I ignored Roxy's confused look she sent me as I limped as fast as I could down Rockstar Row.

  There was a knock on my door about ten minutes after I arrived in my office, catching me mid-crisis. When I opened it, all that awaited me was a freshly made coffee from Faz-Pad that sat on the ground. Still blushing from the encounter, I bent down to pick it up and smiled. He was adorable, really.

  "Thank you, Freddy," I said out to the empty hallway, just incase he wasn't too far.

  "... you're welcome," mumbled the massive pot plant on the corner. My grin grew and then I faltered, guilty at accidentally causing what was obviously an intense emotional crisis for him, too. Cradling my precious, hot coffee, I approached the large pot plant. Hints of orange could be spotted through the leaves.

  "Sorry, Freddy," I said to the plant.

  "S'okay," the plant said quietly.

  My free hand pushed the plant's leaves aside and found him huddled in the corner of the room that it concealed. He couldn't meet my eyes. Amusement tickled the corners of my lips.

  "There you are," I said. I had decided that ignoring what I had transpired was the best course of action. Put it behind us and go back to being professional coworkers in a place that almost killed me - you know, the usual stuff. If I could ignore it. "Should we test the integrity of your hand? I want to make sure I did it right."

  Freddy's ears swivelled back. He hunched himself deeper into the corner and then, finally, his eyes dropped to the coffee in my grip.

  "I brought you a drink."

  "What?" I asked, and then it hit me like a damn cinder block. My mouth fell open. "Freddy!"

  "You started it." A timid smile was beginning to pull at his maw.

  My mouth gaped, truly unable to comprehend this situation. My brain was doing clueless circles in my head. He was right, I did start it, but he didn't have to finish it like that, damn.

  "S- still," I stammered. My hand dropped from the plant and I had to take a step back, baffled. "Oh, my god."

  Freddy poked his head through the leaves of the plant. He was growing more smug by the second - I could see it on his stupid (cute) face, shyness wasting away to nothing, cockiness returning like a fucking boomerang. I was suddenly reminded of the day when I had first let 'handsome' slip.

  God, he's such a cocky bastard.

  "Are you okay?" he asked. I didn't appreciate the humorous lilt to his tone, even though I knew that this was what I deserved. His eyes lidded as he watched me mentally fumble at the sudden turn of tides.

  "No, no, I'm not - shut up."

  "Do you need a mattress to lie down on?" he slyly asked. I shot him an irritated, flustered glare.

  "Fuck off." This was getting out of hand in a way I didn't even realise was possible for such a sweet bear. Then again, he did destroy Fazbear Ent. property for me - both the charging chamber and the endoskeletons. Maybe he wasn't so genial as I was compelled to believe.

  I cringed as I recalled the look on Mandy's face when she walked in that morning and saw the crumpled metal of the chamber. 'The door was stuck and wouldn't open,' was our excuse. She was thankfully too distracted by the unit's door to notice my limp - we didn't have a reply ready for that.

  Freddy had stepped out from around the plant and instead opted to tower over me with a smirk. It was my turn to avoid looking at him, trying to corral my frazzled state back into control as I hunched in his shadow. It wasn't working.

  "Why fuck off when I can fuck-?"

  "Finish that goddamn sentence," I hissed in warning. My sharp gaze slowly drifted up to meet his, wide in shock at my scathing voice. "I dare you."

  He obediently remained quiet. I pressed my hand to my forehead and tried to piece together what the heck was happening at a time that was too early to constitute such behaviour. My brain was still in the process of waking up, dammit.

  "God, what have you been doing?" I groaned. Freddy tilted his head. His earring swung. "Hanging around too many thirteen year olds? Jesus Christ... did you just swear?"

  "I can say multiple swears," he answered. "Would you like for me to demonstrate-?"

  "NO-! No, just... go wait for Mandy to arrive or something." I waved him off with a disgruntled frown and a raging blush. "Holy hell..."

  "I'll take my leave, if you insist," Freddy said politely. He paused just as he passed by me while I cradled my head. "But... you do owe me."

  "'Owe you?'" I echoed in confusion as I caught his eye for elaboration. His gaze dropped to the drink in my hand and my rage returned with just as much fervour as my blush did. "ILLEGAL! Fuckin- jail! LEAVE!"

  "I'm going," Freddy reassured with a chuckle. He turned before he could disappear back down the Row, all joking gone. "Make sure you rest that leg."

  "Fine. Go."

  I heaved a groan as soon as the bear disappeared back into his room to wait for his handler. I groaned again when I turned back to my office and found a familiar-looking blonde security guard impatiently tapping her foot at my door.

  "Morning, Vanessa," I greeted as pleasantly as I could manage after just having had to deal with the hellfire return of Freddy's weirdly fuckboy-esque behaviour. I needed to tell Mandy to keep him away from the rowdy teens. "Did you have a good shift?"

  From the way that her face was frowning from under her cap and her arms were crossed, I garnered that no, actually, she didn't have a good shift at all. Her green eyes stared at my injured leg suspiciously as I limped towards her.

  "What happened to you?" she asked, as blunt as ever. I smiled with my best acting face and unlocked my office for us to enter.

  "Accident with the... fence I was repairing around my lawn," I lied and eased myself down onto my chair with a wince when my leg twinged. "Got caught between a couple of planks of wood."

  Vanessa hissed through her teeth in sympathy as she leant against the wall. Her arms were still crossed, and I noticed that her fingers were digging quite tightly into the sleeves of her uniform. Did she... have a clue about what actually happened to me? If anybody did, it would be the head security guard, right?

  I wondered if she knew about the secluded, decrepit pizzeria beneath us, or the sinkhole, or the blood-crazy endos that roamed there, or the ghost that told me to run. I wondered if that was why she looked a little nauseous.

  "Okay, look," Vanessa said. "I'm not going to beat around the bush-"

  "Oh, good," I said with a nod. "Some people really ought to just whack that bush with a baseball bat instead."

  The expression Vanessa's face pulled into told me that my joke didn't have the desired effect. I took a sip of my coffee. Freddy would've laughed.

  "I saw you exploring the complex on the cameras," she informed sharply and succeeding in making my stomach drop in fear. "I don't want to report you to Dennis, Y/n, I really don't, but you're here to look after those bots. You don't get to play Scooby-Doo just because of a couple of rumours about some missing kids that's floating about the news."

  "'Kids?'" I felt my heart drop to my feet. It probably dropped all the way to that damn sinkhole and beyond. I sat up straight. "There's been more disappearances?"

  Vanessa stilled as I quickly pulled out my phone and looked up the local Hurricane news site. Dread twisted my gut. There'd been two more - two. That's three missing kids in the span of a month. Alarmed, I looked for names and faces, and sighed with relief when Amelia's picture didn't show up. I was sure that Matt would've told me if my niece went missing, but still, I had to check for the sake of my sanity.

  The media was beginning to point fingers. A lot of them were directed at Freddy's, and why wouldn't they be? It wasn't as if it were the franchise's first time in dealing with 'missing' kids.

  But those times were because of William. Who's doing it now?

  "That's horrid," I whispered, feeling sick. My phone slowly lowered back to my desk as I stared at the old logo of Freddy Fazbear's. Freddy looked so... weird there, the original version. He wasn't my Freddy. "They're just kids. Who could do that?"

  Vanessa was quiet, hovering awkwardly in this weighty tension that had blossomed like wild gorse between us. She shifted, the material of her shirt rubbed, and a breath released from her nose.

  "Y/n," Vanessa began again. "You have to do your job. Don't explore the complex."

  "Why not?" I challenged. I leant towards her and lowered my voice, as if any ears could be hiding in my small, enclosed office. "Vanessa, there's someone out there taking kids off of the street like they're stray cats. If people are starting to point fingers at Freddy's, then maybe we should keep an ear out. There could be a copycat on the loose-!"

  Vanessa cut me off. "That's ridiculous. Just do your job, Y/n, or else I'll have to report you for misconduct."

  "But the kids-!"

  "Have nothing to do with Freddy's or your job!" Vanessa snapped, making me flinch back into my seat. The look in her green eyes were livid, encircling a cyclone that flashed with lightning conducted by uncharacteristic fury. "Watch it, Y/n, or else I'm sure Dennis and Elsa would love to hear all about how their star Glamrock has been getting handsy with his manager. You wouldn't want him to be reset, would you?"

  I quickly shook my head.

  "Then stay in line," Vanessa ordered. She placed her hand on the doorknob and sent a sneer back at me. I could physically feel her sharp glare peeling me layer from layer until I was nothing but a pathetic pulp of human meat cowering at my desk. "I'm the eyes and ears of this place, Y/n. Keep out of those tunnels and we won't have a problem."

  She left before I could answer. Vanessa stumbled just outside the door and held a hand to her forehead with a clammy grimace before giving her head a shake and marching on. I sat, dumbfounded, as I watched her leave the Row from the window, heart hammering from the unexpected confrontation.

  "Is everyone on drugs this morning?" I whispered to myself.

⚡️🧸🤖🧸⚡️

  Freddy was definitely not pleased with me. 

  "Fuckin- dude, let me in," I groaned as I tried in vain to pry his chassis open. He continued to stare straight ahead, ignoring me completely. I briefly contemplated putting on the waterworks to see if I'd get any sympathy, but I had a feeling that Freddy had probably dealt with that so much from kids that it'd be ineffective. "I'm sorry."

  This didn't come out of left field. All day, he'd been telling me to rest my leg, and I'd been ignoring him in favour of continuing to do my job as normal. But hat came to bite me on the ass when my leg gave out and I collapsed during the walk back to Rockstar Row after the morning show.

  This was just Freddy's elongated 'I told you so.'

  Dickhead.

  "Are you serious?" I complained. He had a loose wire, identified by Mandy, but she wasn't experienced enough with robotics and had to go home sick, anyway. "Look, I get it, you're pissed, but so will this kid's parents be if we're late to your next party! And they'll have my head on a stick. You don't want my head on a stick, do you?"

  "I'm considering."

  I sent him an offended look. His glare briefly dropped to my face before resuming his stare-off with the wall. I rolled my eyes with a huff.

  "Jerk," I grumbled and turned away, eyeing the selection of tools that I'd wrangled out from Freddy's storage room and prayed that one of them could just magically repair his wire without me having to beg this stubborn mule to comply. I picked up a crowbar and tested its weight. I could feel his gaze on my back. "Well, if you're not going to be willing-"

  The sound of the chassis hissing open with a click made me sweetly smile and drop the crowbar back to the floor. "Thank yooou."

  "Is it so hard to take care of yourself?" Freddy asked as I stuck my head into his cavity and began prowling around for the loose wire. I snorted.

  "Buddy, you should've seen me eight years ago," I snarked. My fingers found the loose wire and I pulled out some electrical tape from my pocket, tearing off a section with my teeth. It seemed that Freddy didn't have a response. "Humans suck like that, don't they?"

  "You do not suck."

  "Aw, big guy," I coed with a pat to his metal spine. "I don't think you suck, either. What romance we share."

  Freddy huffed, unamused. I tucked the end of the tape against itself and, satisfied with a quick-fix well done, pulled myself out of his chest. The hatch folded shut with a snap.

  "What... was it like?" he asked, watching as I gathered the tools I'd kicked around back into its toolbox. "Eight years ago?"

  I slowly slid a welder into its protective sleeve. Eight years ago; the absolute height of my misery. I was so deeply entrenched in my depression that I genuinely thought that there was no light at the end of the tunnel for me anymore, as though Michael had taken it with him when he had left. 

  I didn't take care of myself? Yeah, I didn't leave my bed for three months aside from running to Henry in the middle of the night to cry. And then he died, too, and suddenly I was left with nobody with a connection to Michael. It felt as though he'd never existed in the first place, aside from the gaping, agonising hole in my life from where he had once stood.

  "It was pretty bad," I murmured. I picked up the heavy toolbox with a grunt and sent Freddy a bright smile. His ears were folded back in sympathy, a look that I blissfully pretended I didn't see. "But I'm better now. Alright, hurry up, we should've left already."

  I picked up the crutch Drake had kindly retrieved for me and nodded my head towards the door. Freddy was still staring at me with that odd look he sometimes does, the one where it seems that he knows probably a little too much about how I felt. Where he was probably a little too human.

  "Come on, big guy. Let's move it."

  "Have you had painkillers?" Freddy asked as he slowly ambled next to my stunted pace. When I nodded, his shoulders relaxed with a whistle of his pistons. "Good."

  "You have a line of ducklings," I noted. As if just hearing the pattering on tiny feet, Freddy glanced back and found a crowd of little kids following closely behind him. They all looked to have stars in their eyes and wearing or holding some kind of Pizzaplex paraphernalia. I wondered if they were the kids here for the party.

  I watched from the side in amusement as Freddy played captain and the kids played his troops. They marched towards the Superstar Daycare in disorderly chaos, stopping when Freddy ordered them to and then scrambling over themselves to be the closest to the bear when he resumed his stomping.

  Adults - the parents, I assumed - trailed after the small army of cuties, talking amongst themselves or taking photos. I hobbled along alone with my crutch, smiling softly without realising I was, content in watching Freddy being an absolute natural with the kids. This wasn't just programming - this was him genuinely enjoying seeing their little, pudgy faces pulling into looks of joy and making them laugh. And it was doing something to me, something instinctive and carnal and making my smile fade with realisation.

  "Quickly!" Freddy suddenly said, drawing the kids behind a corner and poking his arm around at me with his fingers into the shape of a gun. I was torn back to reality and blinked in surprise at being in his focus. "The enemy draws near!"

  The kids stumbled into position as they parroted their captain, aiming their little hands at me. When they all began making blasting noises, 'pewpewpews' with the 'BAM BAM BAMS,' I dropped my crutch and held my arms over my chest.

  "I'm hit!" I cried and dramatically raised a hand to the ceiling as I fell to the ground. "Man down."

  A shrill squeak escaped my mouth when I was suddenly dogpiled by little, squirming bodies. Piercing giggles filled the air and I joined them in laughing hysterically as I gasped for breath. The ground shook with each step as Freddy approached, chuckling quietly to himself, before scooping some wiggling kids off of me. They squealed with delight.

  "The party room is just ahead," Freddy said to the kids as I struggled to sit up with a child still slumped over my stomach, giggling away like a maniac. "I believe there's candy on the table. Why don't you troops scout ahead for me?"

  The kids dashed off at his request, shouting and snickering and yelling in joy, and the parents followed close behind them. I dropped my head back to the carpet and gathered my breath, staring at the decorated ceiling of the Daycare Pick-Up zone. Freddy turned back to me with a small smile and pulled me to my feet when I stuck my arms out for help. 

  I stumbled a little on my injured leg and he swiftly steadied me with a hand to my waist. My entire body jolted at his touch. That want from before returned and made me stiffen, becoming hyperaware of how close he was, how tall he was, how protective and gentle he could be. The same hand that cradled my waist with sincere affection pulled apart robots for me. I stared at his chest with wide eyes. 

  "Fraternising with the enemy, I see," I teased breathlessly. The contact on my waist, the vast spread of his palm, it made my head dizzy to the point of vertigo. All that breath I'd regained had escaped as soon as his touch began to rest against my body. My nerves were a wildfire and he was gasoline, a strike of a match. My insides erupted into searing flame.

  Freddy dipped his head at my joke and, when I risked a glance at his face, my heart fluttered with something I couldn't quite pinpoint at the amused, dry expression he wore. Then, so quick that even I had trouble catching it, he removed his hand from my waist to swipe some hair behind my ear and brush his thumb over my cheek. His gaze softened. I turned to mush. 

  "Only if she'll let me."

  Freddy turned before I could even begin to blush. I watched his retreating figure in shock, still searching for oxygen, body still in the throes of the arson that had just consumed me entirely. How could he be so gentle with kids and then turn around and make me melt into a puddle without hesitation? How could he tease me to the point of frustration and then touch me with such affection so that my heart stopped?

  And why did I crave it? Crave it so endlessly? He was a robot, a Freddy Fazbear reboot, and yet...

  Fuck, and yet-

  Shit. My hand rubbed at my face in agitation. And yet what? I couldn't even pinpoint what it was that drew me in. Was it just someone finally showing me some affection since Michael? Or was I genuinely intrigued? Was I genuinely pulled in by his personality? I couldn't even tell, and every time I tried to sift through this chaotic mess of my head, I'd only drop further into confusion.

  I tugged my hand through my hair in an attempt to gather my wits and, after making sure that nobody had noticed my brief emotional breakdown, I began to limp towards the party room.