A/N: Hey, sorry, guys! Holidays ate me up, and a couple of the times I meant to come work on this afterwards, my sister convinced me to take the finally-empty TV and play Smash Bros., so blame her I guess? Yeah, IDK.

Also, I don't take the time to say it every time, but THANK YOU SO MUCH to all of you for leaving reviews and comments! It really helps, even the short ones, to keep my motivation and let me know you care. That being said, Imma take a moment to answer a few questions I've seen so far, b/c why not:

1: After fixating on trying to find an exact label for Mike's condition, I finally went to an actually writing advice board, and they actually said.. that I didn't NEED to go into details. A lot of his symptoms are either things that I've experienced, or exaggerated/more severe versions of my own issues, and since I have more formal diagnosis, I was also unable to come up with a real answer for Mike. As of now, I'm agreeing with the majority of both that board's users that answered me and you guys, and saying that generalized anxiety or PTSD is the most likely culprit. I apologize if any of you were hoping for a clear answer, but in order to avoid, to put it bluntly, totally fucking it up, it does feel like a better idea to keep in uncertain, and, given that he's a broke, not-willing-to-open-up-about-his-issues guy in a small town in the early 2000s, the odds of him getting a quick and accurate diagnosis is probably not all that good, anyway.

(2: I don't remember who it was, but I seem to recall somebody on either here or AO3 asking if Mike was suicidal? Which was a good question, but no, he just has a bad combination of poor judgment and not as much concern for his safety as he should)

3: Do I ship the guys? While I was trying to keep this story more platonic (with Thomas just being that willing to be physically affectionate with his friends and Mike just being that touch starved), uh... yeah, kinda. I don't plan to take a romantic route with this story, but I sure as hell won't stop you from shipping them, and maybe I'll do some non-canon one shots with a more romantic note in the future, if you guys want! (I actually already have one I posted on AO3 with the intent of being either romantic or platonic, however you'd like to read it as, and I've been thinking about writing a shippy sequel to it for a while...)

But yeah, that's all that coming to mind, and I think I've spent more time on this author's note than the actual editing I did tonight, so I'm gonna go make dinner, maybe write something else, and let you guys enjoy! I was hoping to get this up around the holidays because this chapter's a bit of a turning pointing for the guys-the point where, instead of just surviving, they commit to fixing things. We'll see how that goes, huh?

I sighed, pacing the room, afraid to sit down and let my mind wander. We saw where that got me last time, now didn't we?

That being said, I hoped I'd be able to use Thomas's technique to my advantage later, if it happened again. It certainly seemed to help, but God only knew if I'd be able to pace my own breathing through my panic if it happened again.

I leaned again a wall, snorting through my nose. Thomas had mentioned that I might want to see a doctor, right? Maybe… Maybe that wasn't a bad idea. I mean, yes, I will admit, I was in a life-of-death situation, so having a fear-induced meltdown? Not the most unlikely happening. But still, I wasn't even in danger at the time. Why had it happened then? It wasn't exactly like I was a coward, right? When the animatronics were actually in my face, I could handle myself; I was able to do what I had to in order to survive. But tonight was different. But… why? I mean, it's not like anything was different tonight, except for-

The Bite.

Of course, the one difference between tonight and other nights was the addition of my knowledge of the Bite of '87. Clearly that fact had shaken me up, so maybe it was enough to throw me off my game?

Maybe that was all. Maybe I just… had to get over it. That made sense, right? It'd be fine. I was fine.

I glanced towards my left shoulder and froze, snapping out of my thoughts. There, tucked away behind one row of shelves, was a small cubby, some sort of indent in the wall. A set of thin, flimsy-looking shelves was mounted to the wall in the very back of the space, with a handful of cardboard boxes on top of them.

I shot a look back at the door. Would they even be able to see me if I hid back here? I took a few steps towards the hideaway, then looked back at the rest of the room. The view of the door seemed to be blocked from where I stood, so maybe I'd be safe back here?

I took a deep breath, then made my way over to the shelf set. Pulling one box down, I saw a handful of papers-drawings, I realized; drawings the young guests to Freddy's had drawn. As I shuffled through them, I realized that several of them depicted animatronics I didn't recognize-a trio of animatronics that resembled Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica, but clearly weren't the versions I knew, or a small, round humanoid one with balloons, or a yellow bear, closely resembling Freddy.

These must be from the old location, I thought as I returned them to their box. I strained my ears, searching for any sign of something-or someone-approaching, then returned my focus to the next box. This one, I found, was filled with old Polaroid photos, the first of them depicting a cheery, cutesy restaurant and a small handful of its employees. Based on what I could make out of the décor (along with the sickening sense of déjà vu that flooded my senses), I assumed it was indeed the old Freddy's location, the one from 1987.

I shuffled through a few more pictures, depicting the various employees that worked there at the time, when something caused me to freeze. One particular photo showed four people, three man and a woman, sitting around a desk with a large, open hallway behind it. The woman, with black hair tied back, sat on top on the desk at one end, while a man with red hair and glasses stood behind it, his arms wrapped around her waist. Meanwhile, another man with dark hair cut close to his head sat sideways in the chair, one elbow rested on the back of it; while a tall, lanky man with light brown hair stood beside him, one hand rested on the shoulder of his companion. The four were all smiling, ranging from a small, seemingly embarrassed smile on the seated man; to a lopsided smirk on the woman; to the redhead's toothy grin; to the taller man's open mouth, clearly mid laughter at his companions.

I turned over the photo, looking for a label, and saw the phrase,

'First day on the job! The gang's all here'

Four names were scrawled below it, in four different handwritings.

'Melody'

'Fritz S.'

'Ross'

'Thomas'

I felt queasy as I turned the photo back over. Thomas and his co-workers-his friends-back in 1987. Three people who knew Thomas, and almost certainly had no clue what had happened to him. Hell, this being 1987, I couldn't even guarantee that everyone in this photo had made it to the end of the year.

The next photo in the stack didn't bring me any ease, either. The redhead-Fritz, I think, based on the placement of the name on the last picture-was seated in the middle of a cluster of six people, a toolbox seating in front of him. Out of the remaining people (two girls and three guys), two in particular stood out-two men standing in the back. They both stood taller than the rest, both had black hair, a pale complexion, and vibrant green eyes. Brothers, probably. The one on the left, who was slightly taller and leaner, was smiling for the camera, his arm around his lookalike's shoulder, while the other man merely looked absentmindedly into the camera. I flinched with sympathy; I'd been forced to take enough uncomfortable family pictures to recognize it as the face of somebody who wanted nothing more than to get away from the person he was being photographed with.

Still, they was something… off about the two of them. I couldn't put my finger on it, but there was something making me uneasy just looking at the two of them.

I glanced at the stack of photos, then sighed and put them back. I doubted I wanted to see the rest of them. So far, they'd all either creeped me out or depressed me. My eyes fell back onto the box, which I'd left sitting on the shelf , and I saw a piece of something off-white sticking out from under it. I lifted the box, finding a folded paper towel underneath. Gently, I unfolded it, only to find a small, pressed flower.

My heart skipped a beat. Almost in an instant, I recognized it. I clearly remembered plucking it out of a display sitting outside of some store I'd passed on my way to the bus stop, before showing up to work one day.

Cautiously, I pushed the door open. It looked pretty much the same as it had the first time, albeit with the puddle of blood mopped up. My heart sank as I looked around, but I forced myself to walk to the center of the room.

I knelt on the grimy, cold tile. "Hey, Phone Guy?" I murmured, keeping my eyes on the floor and head bowed. "Look, I…" The tears started to roll down my face and I continued, "I owe you so much more than some dumb flower."

I gently laid the lily (or what I'd taken an educated guess was a lily) on the floor, vaguely remembering bringing them to a family funeral when I was young. That meant they had to be appropriate, right? "I'm sorry I couldn't save you." Taking a deep breath, I stood up, glancing out into the dark room. For a second, I could've sworn I saw movements in the shadows, which was all the signal I needed to tell me to leave.

My breath caught in my throat, thinking back on that night. I'd left this as a tribute, as the only condolences I could give to the man who'd saved my life. And he'd found it. Kept it, preserved it back here, alongside reminders of the life he'd had.

I sniffled, not realizing that my eyes had started to water. I wiped my face with the neck of my vest, sighing. Gently, I returned the flower to its rightful place, folded the towel, and returned everything to the way I'd found it.

I gave the row of shelves another look over. I should keep checking these out, I thought. As hard as it may be, as unpleasant as looking at all those photos and drawings might be, maybe somebody recorded something about their own time at Freddy's? Maybe-

I turned around with a start at the sound of a crash outside the door. I retreated from the corner hideout, looking towards the door. "Thomas?" I hissed. I didn't dare raise my voice, in case it was… somebody else.

Sure enough, though, Thomas came running through the solid door, seemingly out of breath. Before I could question him, he made a shooing motion with his hands, a frantic look in his eyes. "R-run! Hide! H-he's coming!"

I shot a look over my shoulder at the hidden shelves. That seemed like as good a place as any, I figured, and I ducked back behind there, just in time to here the door open.

I dropped to the floor, my hands jumping over my mouth to hide my gasp. Thomas ran over to my hiding place, his eyes darting between me and whatever animatronic had just entered. He turned to me and whispered, "B-Bonnie."

I nodded, glancing under the shelf next to me to see a vague, blueish-purple figure across the room from me. Between the darkness and the shelves partially obscuring my vision, it was difficult to make out details, but that color… that smell…

Thomas kept his eyes fixed on me, his jaw hanging open and fist clenched around his wrist, barely containing his shaking. Suddenly, he jerked his head to the side, staring at something across the room from him. Heavy footsteps approached my hiding spot. My breath hitched, and Thomas turned back to me, putting one finger over his mouth. Quiet. I was trying to be quiet, but my heart was racing, a cold, clammy sweat starting to form on my body.

A figure moved into my vision, between Thomas and myself. My eyes nearly bugged out of my head as I saw Bonnie, standing less than ten feet away from me, his head turned and looking at the rest of the room, towards Thomas. Or, at least, where Thomas had been. I couldn't see him anymore, though whether he'd fled or I simply couldn't see him around the rabbit animatronic was unclear. (Gods, he didn't leave, did he? If he couldn't do anything to save me, it'd make sense for him to leave so he wouldn't have to watch, but still, he wouldn't leave me alone, right? He'd have stayed by my side, trying in vain to save, or at least to comfort me, right?)

I realized my breath had begun to come out in short, faint gasps again, and I could've sworn I saw Bonnie twitch. I closed my eyes, counting to myself as I took a deep breath. One, two, three, four, five… and I breathed out, careful to stay quiet. Either I'd still my breathing and save my life, or I was merely counting down the seconds to my own death.

A loud clang sounded on the other side of the room, and I tensed up. After a moment, I opened my eyes, only to see Bonnie was gone. Still fearing for my life, but desperate to find out where he'd gone, I rolled onto my knees, crawling to the edge of my shelter, peering out to see what had happened.

Thomas stood, staring down an enemy that couldn't see him, a naked endoskeleton in his arms. Bonnie stood across the table from his, staring blankly towards the floor, clearly trying to figure out how the endoskeleton had fallen off the table all by itself. His head tilted upward, seemingly staring at Thomas. But… that wasn't possible, right? Thomas had said the animatronics couldn't see him. Still, the rabbit definitely seemed to be locking eyes with the dead night guard. Suddenly, he jerked, his head twitching, and he turned back to the open door. He froze, seemingly forcing himself to look back towards Thomas, only to jerk again, and leave the room.

The whole time, Thomas kept his eyes on the animatronic, barely moving. When Bonnie left the room, he sighed in relief, gently setting the endoskeleton back down on the table. He turned my direction, and gasped, running the rest of the way over to me. "M-M-Mike!" He grabbed my arms tightly in his hands, damn near dragging me to my feet, a dazed grin on his face. "A-are you, uh, a-are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah…" I pushed him off, sighing in relief. I looked over his shoulder at the table, adding, "Good thinking, by the way."

"O-oh, uh-" He glanced back himself, then turned back to me, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Uh, well, i-it was nothing. I-I had to do something." Still, his face seemed lit up with pride, seemingly astounded with his own actions. Taking one of my hands in his own, he grinned, reaching up to wipe his face. "Uh, I-I'm just glad you're, uh-"

"You're crying." It wasn't a question so much as a statement, flat with confusion. I was completely caught off guard. I was the one who'd been on the verge of dying, the one who'd nearly had another meltdown, and yet…

"O, uh, a-am I?" Thomas turned away, rubbing his eyes even harder. He didn't even seem to have physical tears, but he was, very clearly, crying. "I-it's nothing, y'know? I-I'm just-" He was cut off when I threw my arms over my shoulder, dragging him into a hug.

I have no clue what I was thinking. I don't think I knew then, either. The rush of emotions, the fear of having nearly died again, and the fact that Thomas was clearly letting his own (admittedly minimal) barriers drop… Something about everything going on led to, in the heat of the moment, me dropping my own walls, and giving Thomas the comfort I knew we both needed.

Thomas tensed up in my arms, most likely unsure what the hell I was doing. "Hey, hey, it's fine," I murmured, pressing my face into his neck. I cupped the back of his head in my hand and, gently, pushed it to rest on my shoulder. I felt a gentle gasp, but Thomas surrendered, running his arms under mine and placing his hands on my back. "It's gonna be okay. I… Thanks. You saved my fucking life again." I pushed away, staring him in the eyes as a scowl started to form on my face. "Goddammit, you saved my life again. I'm gonna have to up my game with this investigation to pay you back, got it?"

Thomas chuckled softly, reaching up to smooth his hair. "Heh, i-if you say so." He smiled down at me, taking a deep, shaky breath. "…Thank you, Mike. I-I… I think I, uh, I-I needed that." He glanced over my shoulder, his face falling. "…Oh."

I froze, my whole body seeming to prickle up with nervousness. "What?"

"Oh, uh, n-nothing, i-it's just… I-I guess you found it." He pointed past me, at the row of shelves.

"Oh." I ran a hand through my hair, feeling my face heating up. Crap, could he tell I'd been snooping? Would that… offend him? I mean, I was under the impression that everything back there (except for the flower, of course) was company property, legally, but if nobody had come back here, I wouldn't be surprised if he considered all of it his at this point…

Thomas must've picked up on my nerves, because he gasped under his breath, waving one hand frantically. "N-no, I, um, I-I-I'm not mad! I just…" He sighed, scratching under his ear. "I-I didn't expect anybody to find it."

"Oh." There was silence, then suddenly, "I'm sorry, I looked at some of the pictures, I just wanted to know what was in there, I didn't mean to snoop, I know it probably meant a lot to you, I'm sorry-"

"M-Mike!" My mad rambling was cut off when Thomas grabbed my shoulders and locked eyes with me. He sighed, shaking his head. "I-I'm not mad, I-I promise. I, uh… Honestly? I'm kind of… glad you saw them."

"You are?" He walked past me, walking up to the shelves and taking the box of photos down.

"Y-yeah." He went silent for a moment, then said, "Uh, I-I guess maybe I was hoping that, uh, if you knew more about the people who used to work here, what this company used to be like…" He sighed, a look of longing on his face. "Y-you'd understand why I loved it so much. W-why I stayed." He pulled out the top photo again, the one with him and his three coworkers, and stared down at it. "I-I made so many friends here, s-so many good memories… and now, n-now it's all gone."

Thomas audibly sniffled, holding up the photo to examine it. "Fritz sorta fell off the radar after the Bite, I-I think he might've… blamed himself. H-he was in charge of repairing the animatronics, a-and he was the only one of us who ever made any progress with the Mangle. Melody, his girlfriend, h-her cousin was one of the kids who vanished. I-I never did catch back up with them." He scowled. "Ross… he was falsely arrested for the Incident. I-I'd like to think he was acquitted, b-but I don't know if he even made it out of prison." Thomas looked up at me with glassy eyes, his face contorted with pain. "Th-this picture doesn't even include Jeremy, o-or… the Maddocks."

His voice dropped darkly on that last name, and I felt myself shiver. It was like how I'd felt seeing those guys I'd seen in that photo with Fritz… Was that their last name? Were they the Maddocks?

"A-and me?" Thomas slid down the wall, sinking to the floor. "I-I just… f-fell apart. I moved back in with my mother and sister, I-I barely got out of bed, w-wouldn't eat right… I think my mother worried I'd do something… drastic." He reached up to wipe his face again. "I-I didn't know what to do…"

My heart dropped. He wouldn't say it, but I could take a good guess at what he meant by 'drastic.' "Thomas…" I said, making my way towards him. I dropped to my knees in front of him, taking his empty hand in mine. "Look at me. Listen to me." I paused, waiting for him to take a breath, then fix his eyes on mine. "We're gonna get the justice they deserve. Your coworkers, the guys who worked here before us… and you."

I pushed myself to my feet, while Thomas scrambled up behind me. "B-but how?" Before I could leave the cubby hole, he grabbed my shoulder, spinning me around to face him. "M-Mike, please, t-that sounds good and all, b-but how are we going to do it?!" His eyes had begun to water again, something he noticed himself only a moment after I did. He reached up, wiping his face and turning his body away from me.

I grabbed his arm, causing him to jump and turn back to me. "I don't know how, exactly. Not yet." I clenched my free fist, setting both my body and mind. "But I swear to you, I'll make it happen. We'll make it happen."

My watch beeped to indicate that it was six, and I turned on my heel, making my way out of the room. I didn't even flinch as I passed the animatronics. I refuse to show those damn things any weakness.

(No, I thought, maybe I should watch the language a bit. Something had happened to them, they weren't always like this. Once upon a time, they were the harmless, lovable children's mascots they were meant to be. As crazy as it sounded, for all I knew, they were as much the victims of whatever hellish forces were at play as we were.)

I turned back to Thomas, who merely looked back at me, eyes wide with confusion. Too late now, though; my thought process had run away at this point, and there was no chance of me slowing down. "Listen to me. You've got the knowledge of this place, of the things that happened here, and you can keep looking for more info during the day. I have the ingenuity with come up with the crazy plans we need, and lack the common sense to not go through with them." A spark of realization glimmered in his eyes, and he nodded in understanding. "Think about it; between the two of us, we can do it." I took a deep breath, extending my hand to him. "We can find out why the animatronics are acting like this, and maybe, just maybe, we can stop it." My heart pounded wildly at the thought, and I locked eyes with the ghost. "You're with me, aren't you?"

Thomas didn't hesitate, closing the distance between us with a few quick steps, grabbing my hand and shaking it firmly. "O-of course." His eyes fell to the ground, and he mumbled, "F-for my friends."

I nodded. "For your friends. For everybody who worked and died or suffered here." I put my other hand on top of Thomas's, adding, "And for you."

He looked up at me, his eyes shimmering. One corner of his lips turned up, and he allowed himself to smile. "Th-th-thank you."

I grinned back, any trace of doubt banished from my mind. "No problem. Now, c'mon. Let's do this."

I shuffled around on the desk, grabbing a stray piece of scrap paper and a loose pencil. "I know it's going to suck, but I need to remember everything you can about how the animatronics acted when you worked here," I said, barely glancing over my shoulder. My normally-tidy cursive-drilled into my head by my mother-was falling apart in front of me. My heart was racing. Finally, finally, I felt like we could do something to fix things. Christ, I hadn't felt this sort of feeling since… crap, maybe since my teenage rebellion years.

"I-I understand." A hand came to rest on my shoulder, and I turned to see Thomas standing next to me, a look of determination set into his face. "It's, uh it's fine. I-I'll see what I can do."

I nodded in silent thanks, turning back to my notes. I would have to go digging for info on the town, see if there were any reports of… curses, or something of the like in the town's history. Demonic activity? Hell if I knew, but surly I could find something suspect to follow up on.

What I didn't want to admit to Thomas was that I had a feeling that, in some twisted butterfly effect scenario, the ghost (or ghosts) of somebody who'd died in the past was responsible for this. He didn't seem too comfortable with this theory, but in my mind, it made some sense. Some vengeful employee, killed in what was really a genuine accident way back in the day? Or maybe…

Thomas had mentioned one of the suspects for the missing kids had been killed in prison. Could he have made it back here somehow?

Jesus Christ, I hoped that wasn't the case.

Hell, maybe it was the animatronics' software. It sounded ridiculous to me, the idea that nobody in the company could fix their own damn robots, but, hey, humanity as a species does have a knack for screwing itself over when it came to tech.

I turned back to Thomas, holding my notes proudly. "Alright. Give me a moment, and then maybe-"

"O-ooooh, no, kid." To my surprise, Thomas grabbed my shoulders, training a stern look on me. "You are, uh, y-you're not staying late today. You are going home to rest."

"Wh- no, Thomas, look, I have things to do here." I tried to squirm out of Thomas's grasp, but he refused to let me go. "I groaned. "Look, I don't even know where my keys-" I froze, my eyes falling on a spot on the desk.

"W-what?" Thomas hesitated, probably thinking I was trying to trick him into releasing me, only for him to follow my gaze anyway.

Follow it to the key ring sitting on the desk next to us.

Thomas froze, his brow furrowing. "Wh-what the hell?"

"I'm getting a keychain," I muttered.

Thomas sighed, letting go of me and reaching to pick up my keys. I held out my hand to take them from him, but he held them above my head, fixing stone-cold brown eyes on me. "O-only if you go home," he said, staring me down.

I sighed. On the one hand, I don't know how he thought taking my keys away would encourage me to leave; if anything, being locked out of my house would convince me to surrender and stay here a few hours more. On the other hand, after the night's whole debacle, not having my keys in my hand was making me a little twitchy…

"Fine, I promise." I was sweaty, and gross, caffeine deprived (I'd left my thermos in the office before going to look for Thomas), and both mentally and physically exhausted. Though I wanted to get things done here, the idea of going home, taking a shower, and crawling into bed was, admittedly, really sounding good about now. I reached up to take my keys, but to my surprise, he stepped back, not lowering them an inch. In fact, he extended his arm, using the full extent of his height and reach to keep them away from me.

"N-no, no promising. I-I am walking you to the door, a-and I'll give them back when you need to lock the door behind you." He must've seen the annoyed (and, quite frankly, slightly offended) look on my face, because he sighed and said "M-Mike, you're my friend, but, uh, y-you don't really… h-have the best judgment. I-I just want to make sure you go home and rest. Y-you've had a long night, e-even by night shift standards."

I sighed. "Alright, fine." I picked up my thermos and left the office, Thomas following close behind, my keys still tight in his grip, even when he lowered his arm to his chest. I reached the front door, dragged open the door, and turned to Thomas, my hand out expectantly.

He hesitated, but after another dirty look, he chuckled and handed my keys over. "G-good night, Mike. Well, uh, not night, per say, but, uh- Oh, y-you know what I mean." I chuckled to myself in response, and Thomas draped an arm over my shoulder, smiling at me. "P-please, go relax for a bit. T-that's all I want right now, i-is for you to be okay. W-we'll put the problem-solving on hold if we have to, a-as long as you're alright."

I sighed. "Understood." Like hell that's happening, I thought, but I didn't dare say it out loud. Thomas would probably just refuse to let me come in the next night if I said that… Instead, I closed and locked the door, peering through one of the windows and waving. Thomas smiled and waved back. "See ya, Phone Guy," I muttered, before turned away and making my way home.

And don't worry, I thought to myself, shooting one last look at the pizzeria from the parking lot. I'll make things right.

I promise.