Mable: I've been considering making this sequel to Alleyway for a while. Now that I wrote this, I might consider a third part if it gets good enough reception... But I'm putting the cart before the horse! I hope you Enjoy!

The Closet

Living with an animatronic was the last thing that Mike could've expected out of life. Especially after how everything went down at Freddy's, willingly housing a haunted animatronic seemed like a terrible sort of idea, but he still did it.

After what led to him finding the Puppet in the alleyway and the trial the two had gone through, he wanted nothing more than to keep him. Though even after that he didn't expect it to last. He thought that the Puppet would get cabin fever after a few days in the apartment and they would have to figure something else out. Or that one morning he would wake up and the animatronic would simply be gone.

Instead, the Puppet took to the apartment incredibly well. It had already been a few days and it had seemed quite content with the arrangement. It read from his books, it watched his television, and it had even started to draw in a notebook that he had given it. While he expected it to get bored, it was quite content with such a relaxed lifestyle, and Mike couldn't understand why. Especially considering how standard the apartment was compared to the pizzeria.

The Puppet was still largely a mystery. It had been mute other than chiming sounds and hadn't spoken a single word. However, they did learn to communicate. It listened well and occasionally answered some questions through drawings or gestures. Mike had yet to ask any difficult questions, but this seemed like the best option considering everything that happened. Most questions were basic: colors, music, favorite items and preferences, anecdotes about the day, and whatever else came to mind. There was no doubt that the Puppet was intelligent, so Mike assumed that it simply couldn't speak.

Even though it was some time since it had been injured, the Puppet's rather affectionate behavior only partially waned. It no longer stayed stuck to him constantly but it frequently distributed physical affection towards him. It would greet him at the door, sometimes it would hug him when he was distracted, and occasionally would brush past or reach over to fiddle with his hair. Mike wouldn't be too surprised to be cooking something and have the Puppet sidle beside him and pet or hold onto his arm while he worked.

Nowhere was this affection more obvious than with the sleeping arrangements. Because of the limited space, the bed and the couch had been the only options for where to sleep. Mike had tried one night on the couch, woke with the Puppet nearly suffocating him by curling on his chest, and then decided it was just better if they shared the bed. So, they did, and no matter where they were or what the situation was- even if the animatronic fell asleep laying across the foot- he would awaken to the Puppet clutching onto him. He was unbothered by it. If anything, it was kind of nice.

Though in the back of Mike's mind, he somehow knew that this was an indication of something wrong. He had a hunch that the Puppet's affection was fueled by something else but had no evidence to support it.

Then came that fourth night. Mike got home from work and was eagerly anticipating his day off following it. He let himself into the apartment and was immediately greeted by the Puppet with a friendly chime.

"Hey, I'm back," Mike began as he hung his jacket and hat in the short hall beside the kitchen. "And just in time. Any longer and I probably would've started cold-cocking co-workers. The guy picking up the night shift- Douglas- was over twenty minutes late. Came stumbling in half awake and saying that he forgot to come in. Apparently forgot to come up with a better excuse too."

The Puppet chimed in amusement. It was almost like laughter, and Mike had become accustomed to it too. Instead of laughing it would chime and it chimed plenty when it came to Mike's own ironic comments. He had a good sense of humor, which was great for someone as humor-centric as Mike tended to be. At least, it made the very alien being seem more human-like and gave the human an excuse to be as sarcastic as he could be.

"I'm going to go take a shower and wash work off," Mike said. The Puppet followed him to the bathroom door, but didn't follow him inside, as it usually didn't. Thankfully it had grasped the basics of privacy and respected Mike's own. Instead it kept itself busy and he was moderately surprised to come back out to hear the microwave on. "You know you didn't have to do that," Mike said, "but thanks. I'm starving." It trilled, and it continued to watch him attentively as he retrieved the heated leftovers from the microwave.

Life was peculiar now, but it was a good kind off peculiar. Mike had become comfortable in this routine and with the partially sentient animatronic. Though sometimes he wondered if it remembered that day or the alleyway it had been in. He barely saw its mask change and it acted as though it was now fine, so perhaps the animatronic had a short memory, or had willingly forgot the event. In any case, Mike had decided not to ask any of these intrusive questions.

The dull sound of rain started to come down outside. It was the first day of rain since he had found the Puppet in the alleyway, which was why he noticed it. "Sounds like it's starting to come down out there," Mike said as he glanced out the blinds. He could see the rain in the glow of a nearby streetlight. "Don't take offense to this, but you're not going to chase me around if the power goes off, are you?"

Again, the Puppet chimed in amusement, so Mike took that as a no. However, the security guard did notice that the animatronic had not lowered itself onto the couch. While it was usually more than comfortable curling itself at his side and letting its guard down, the Puppet seemed restless. Mike raised a brow questioningly.

"I don't really think the power's going to go out if you're worried about it," Mike said. He poked the leftovers with a fork absentmindedly before setting them on the coffee table to cool down. "So, my day was a hopeless slog that left my emotionally dead inside. How was yours?"

The animatronic finally seemed to be less distracted. It retrieved the notebook from the coffee table and began to flip through the drawings it had done that day, as though answering him through that alone. He had to admit that the drawings were well done. He wasn't sure how an animatronic learned to draw so well, but it was rather impressive to see them. Again, this stopped any questioning. Otherwise Mike might've thought longer about the Puppet's hesitance.

The night went on as normally as expected and the rain went ignored after that point. Eventually Mike headed to bed, thinking that the night was pretty much over and expecting to slip into the next morning easily.

Alas, this was not what happened. Instead Mike got a sudden wake up call.

A crash of obnoxiously loud thunder nearly shook the windows. This alone didn't wake Mike fully and he would've easily returned to sleep if not for what followed: the sudden blaring of wild, chiming music. Mike had a sharp reminder of his nights with Freddy outside of his office, eyes glowing and playing music, and sat upwards in bed with a start.

Instead of the Toreador March, the music seemed to be 'Pop Goes the Weasel', and it was punctuated with the sound of frantic moving and bumping and the sight of pinpricks of light. The adrenaline jumpstarted Mike's brain and he roused enough to realize that the noise was coming from the Puppet, who was currently in a fit of frantic pacing at the foot of his bed.

"What happened?!" Mike blurted out in alarm. "Whoa, hey, what's going on?!" The lights moved to him for an instant, music still rapid and panicked, and he knew the Puppet was looking at him. Then suddenly, the lights vanished, and the music grew faded. After a few distorted chimes it went fully silent.

Seeing that his eyes weren't adjusting fast enough, Mike reached over and turned on the lamp. The room looked like a tornado had hit it, which was only slightly more out of sorts than usual. Some of the things on his dresser had been knocked over and the comforter was half off the bed, but this wasn't the most concerning thing. The fact that the Puppet was missing was much worse.

"Stripes?!" Mike called out as he stumbled out of bed. He opened the half open bedroom door and looked out into the darkness of the apartment. Within seconds he had the living room and kitchen light on, and it was clear that the Puppet wasn't there. "This can't be happening," Mike muttered as he looked into the bathroom, which was also empty. Horror started to sink in as he checked the front door.

It was still locked but he had been told by Fritz that the Puppet could get through locked doors or windows. He hadn't taken it to heart as the animatronic made no attempt to leave before now. Now he was in a panic and opened the front door to look out. He looked around, catching a glimpse of distant lightening, and saw no sign of the animatronic. He was finally realizing the gravity of the situation and shut and locked the door back.

"Where in the hell would he have gone?! He wouldn't have gone back to Freddy's, would he?!" Mike asked himself. Fully riled, he hurried into the living room, grabbing his shoes, and sat on the couch to put them on. "Screw it. I'll just go out and find him. I swear, if I find him back in that alley-."

Then Mike heard a dull, out of tune chime. He stopped what he was doing and sat upright abruptly to listen in. It sounded like the noises were coming through the wall from the bedroom.

"Wait… Is he still in there?" Mike looked back at the wall in confusion. "How'd I manage to miss that?!" Without a moment to spare, he stood from the couch and hustled into the bedroom. He began to search out the source of the twanging. It was familiar; it was the Puppet's distressed noise and sounded just close enough that he knew it was still somewhere in the room. Blue eyes focused on the closet as he narrowed the noise down to it. He started to inch the folded doors apart.

He stopped as soon as he spotted the Puppet huddled in the back of the closet. It responded to the intrusion by pulling its legs closer to itself and pushing further back into the wall, shuddering lightly.

"There you are," Mike said. His voice was full of relief and he gave a soft sigh. "You scared me for a minute back there. I thought you took off." The Puppet tightened its arms around itself with its back still to Mike. The human frowned and started to kneel. "So, what's going on?"

He got his answer a few moments later, when a loud rumble of thunder boomed through the walls. The Puppet released a sharper squeal of metal and his entire body trembled violently. Mike watched his back in surprise as he realized what was happening: the animatronic's panic had been triggered by the storm. Almost immediately Mike's sympathy returned, and he considered where to go from here.

"Well, I'm already down here…" Mike sighed. "Alright, I'm coming in. Might be a tight squeeze, so bear with me."

The security guard moved into the closet. Clothes brushed at his head as he pulled the closet doors closed behind him and then sat on the opposite side of the closet. He had to bend one knee, but the other could stretch out towards the opposite wall without hitting the Puppet. Mike shifted and eventually moved a pair of old sneakers out from under him before shoving them back into the corner behind him. Then they were sitting in the closet in the darkness.

Mike expected it to be lighter because of the slates in the closet doors, but it was nearly pitch dark with only some light coming from the crack underneath the door. It was also rather silent, save the light static coming from the animatronic with him. The closet smelled musty; not necessarily bad, but like stagnant clothes. Clothes that Mike couldn't remember washing or wearing anytime recently.

"Well, here we are. Not as comfortable as the bed, but it's got more soundproofing," Mike remarked. He knocked on the wall. "Might be able to survive a nuclear explosion in this thing. Or at least, we wouldn't burn as fast." The other shifted a little, still no doubt clutching himself, and Mike considered what he was intending on doing next. He considered letting it go, but he realized that he couldn't. This time he had to ask questions.

"…Is this about the alley?" Mike quietly asked. "I know you were out there during some rough weather. I can't image what you're probably going through, having to deal with the perfect storm raging on out there." The Puppet made a saddened sort of tune and Mike wondered if he was crying again. Once again, Mike began to lose his nerve in confronting the Puppet. It would've been easy to demand answers and just easy to lose all trust that he had gained. Especially when the animatronic was in such a shaken state. He changed tactics entirely.

"You want to come over here with me?" Mike offered gentler. The Puppet didn't respond. "Come on, that's what I'm here for. I know it can't be too comfortable on that side, because I'm pretty sure I still have boxes over there… And a crowbar somewhere around here." Better safe than sorry, he supposed. That was the closest excuse he could have for keeping a crowbar in his bedroom closet. He could hear the shifting of fabric as the animatronic slid its legs against the carpet. "If you don't like it then it's not that far to move back."

Finally, Mike heard the Puppet start to move towards him. He could hear it on the carpet and brushing against the hanging clothing. Though this movement froze at the low rumbling outside. It wasn't nearly as threatening as the louder banging had been and yet the Puppet flinched to a halt just as readily. It wasn't even like it didn't want to move, it was as though it simply couldn't. Mike reached out and caught its arm to reel it in and guided it to rest against him. Something about having its head on his shoulder already made him feel better about the situation.

Decoding what the Puppet felt was always a challenge. It was easy to tell when it was trying to portray that it was happy. It was less clear if it was feigning happiness, and its reluctance to portray any negative emotions meant that Mike was kept in the dark about issues like these. It made sense that it was afraid of the storming considering what had happened, but Mike had little indication before this that it was.

"Just going to have to keep a closer eye out," Mike noted. He couldn't help but wonder if it feared other things too, like boxcutters or getting wet. There were so many small things that Mike could've been taking for granted if it was rendered helpless over a thunderstorm. The urge to comfort the animatronic returned, "See? Nothing to worry about. We're dry, we're warm, and since it's not scorpion season, we should be safe."

It was then that the Puppet reacted slightly differently. It still nuzzled against him, which he had become accustomed to by now, but the noise it created was different. It was a lower warbling noise, almost more like a rattle than a chime, and perhaps the least music box-like of all the communicative sounds it made, save the static. Mike had his hand on the Puppet's back, so he could feel the vibrating through its chest and internal music box. It was as though it was purring, and it punctuate the sound by caressing its fingers down his opposite shoulder.

Its fingers tightened into the fabric of Mike's nightshift and lifted it against his mask. As though it was trying to fully indulge in every sensation. Mike raised his brows questioningly. All of it was so strange; it almost felt as though it was beyond the typical affection. It all seemed a little more amorous.

"Don't get ahead of yourself. He's not like a human. Maybe the fabric just feels good on his mask. Seems like he's more sensitive there…" Mike followed the Puppet's shoulder and found its mask easily in the darkness. He rubbed his thumb over the animatronic's ruby cheek and was rewarded with a breathy sound. Almost like a gasp, but not quite. Mike hummed thoughtfully, "Is this helping?" He was answered with a positive chime as a response.

Then, just as quickly as they had calmed down, the Puppet suddenly flinched and tightened its grasp. Its warbling cut short and it shuddered. Mike didn't hear the thunder for a few more seconds, so he assumed that the Puppet somehow heard or felt it before it had come. He treated it with the same sort of comfort.

"Easy. Deep breaths," Mike murmured, even though it was obviously not breathing. "You're safe. Just focus on that. It's warm, dry, safe," Mike continued to assure. The Puppet gave a somber chime, one of the saddened off-tune ones, and Mike feared it was leading to eventual tears. "Worst case scenario, we lose power, but we're not going to be out in that."

Yet as easily as that came out, it suddenly had a very profound effect on Mike himself. The sudden fear that gripped him when he realized that he didn't know how the animatronic would react to the power going out was uncanny. His pulse shot upwards and his mind was suddenly racing. "They just can get in when the power's out. It's not like it's some sort of programming that they become aggressive when the power's dead," he tried to rationalize. Yet he then argued with this idea, "But they do become aggressive at Midnight. Could be the same sort of pattern."

Yet he couldn't imagine the Puppet becoming aggressive towards him after all this time. Or at least, he didn't want to believe that it would, but he wasn't sure how much programming really was in the animatronics. It had calmed down again regardless and had now caught Mike's hand, still on its cheek, and continued to hold it there in a needy way. It indirectly asked for continued comfort.

"…Hey, you know, this is great and all, but you know what would be even better?" Mike asked. "Not being in this closet. What do you say? We can try the bed again and if it gets too rough we can come right back." The Puppet took a few seconds to respond, and then gave what was almost a partial nod into Mike's shoulder. Even that seemed forced and it was clear that it had forced itself to agree to the idea. "Alright, we'll just take this slow."

Mike slowly pushed open the doors of the closet and let the light into the closet. The animatronic shifted off him and watched through the darkness as Mike made it out from under the clothes. He then slid out of the closet carefully and stood in his bedroom, then looked to the hesitant animatronic. He knelt beside the closet, "Let's make this easier on you." He slid his arms under the Puppet's legs and back before easily lifting it. He hadn't needed to carry the Puppet in days, but it was still an easy task to accomplish.

It clung to him to the point that getting it to release him once he set it on the bed was easier said than done. The Puppet was almost frozen still with the vacant look on its mask, though no smile whatsoever. Mike rubbed over its hands until the fingers softened and released. He then took its hands into his own, looking down at the Puppet, and waiting until it started to calm down. A flash eventually lit up the window and the pinpricks of light appeared in the Puppet's eyes, showing that as vacant as it looked it was staring at Mike. He gave a reassuring smile.

"Not bad. Looks like you're finally getting the hang of it," Mike said as he slowly started to release the Puppet's hands. "I'm just going to make sure I locked the front door and turn off the light, okay?" Maybe if the lights were off then it wouldn't notice if the power went out. Yet as he released its hands and drew back, the Puppet released a soft static, and very briefly he noticed an unenthused or annoyed look. It was just there long enough for him to chuckle.

"Don't give me that look, Stripes. You'd rather that then someone walking in and interrupting our bonding time, right?" Mike playfully asked with a small wink. The static returned, and Mike smirked in amusement as he drew back. He then headed out to do so, getting the apartment back into a nighttime state, and then returned to the bedroom.

The Puppet had hidden itself under the comforter and the only sight of it was the lump in the blanket. Finally, it seemed like everything was alright again, and Mike turned off the lights before getting back into bed. It was a relief to be returning to sleep, especially as the Puppet eagerly wrapped its arms around his waist and pressed its mask into his back. Finally, the night was over.

Alas, this was not what happened. Mike was in for a second wakeup call.

Once again, Mike woke to blaring chiming and frantic movements as the Puppet started to move around the room in rapid pacing. With a low groan, Mike reached over and turned on the lamp, but the room stayed dark. His head shot up as he tried it a few times and he only now realized that the power had gone out. "Blackout… Damn it."

While he did fear that the Puppet could suddenly become aggressive, it seemed clearer that the animatronic was in the same turmoil as it was earlier, if not more so. The pinpricks of light had returned as his slender body darted around. The curtains were opened for whatever reason and a dull glow came through. He didn't look to see if the streetlights were on outside. He wouldn't have been surprised if they were still on, considering that it went off even in light wind. He stood from the bed and approached the Puppet carefully.

"Stripes?" Mike casually coaxed. "You okay?"

The Puppet twitched violently and turned to face him. For a moment he paused in cautiousness, but then continued once he was certain that it was just panicked again. There was no programming from the power being out; the Puppet had just been worked up by the storm. He noticed it sending a glance towards the closet.

"Don't go running off on me. I know you want to, but let's just take it easy," Mike said. He started past the Puppet and approached the window. "Let's start by shutting this. You don't want to be staring out into that." He closed the curtains and turned around to face the animatronic while slightly blocking the closet door. It was still acting erratic; hovering back and forth, hands clenching and unclenching, making garbled noises, and it was only getting worse. It only became apparent now that this was something more than feigning normality was going to fix. "…Stripes?"

The curtain was opening back up. Though Mike was more distracted by the objects suddenly falling over and off the dresser beside them. Pictures started moving and falling off the wall, where they clattered to the floor. It was only intensifying, and a heavy pressure started to hang over the room. The Puppet gave a violent twitch and shuddered as though it was shivering.

"Stripes…" Mike reached for the Puppet, but the animatronic saw it and flinched back out of his reach. This sent another rush of something through the room and he could hear his lamp falling over, the cracked bedroom door slam shut, and the curtains half fall behind him. Slowly, the Puppet was becoming more and more wound up, and was only a matter of time until something was broken in the process. Though with this behavior, it could've very well been the Puppet itself.

Mike took another step in and the Puppet backed towards the wall almost fearfully. It was almost like he was afraid of even Mike in this state.

"This isn't just about the storm is it?" Mike asked with his face growing softer. He noticed that the animatronic flinched back again and tightened its hands into fists, and that was the confirmation he needed. He dared to add more, "Stripes, I can't help you if you don't let me. We can fix this if you just calm down for a second." This didn't seem to help as the static grew and the striped one's hands shook. Mike was firmer, "We can fix this, I just need you to try and calm down.

"I'm broken! I can't be fixed!"

And then there was silence in the room. Save the rolling thunder outside and the faint hum of static, the voice had brought every word of to a sudden halt. The Puppet had spoken.

Then suddenly the mask shifted into much more obvious fear and shame. Before Mike could even react, the Puppet dropped to its knees, covered its mask with its hands, and began to weep with audible sobs. Purple tears began to dribble through its fingers as its body continued to shake. Mike didn't think his eyes could widen any further. It had spoken. The Puppet had just talked to him with a voice too much like a human's.

"I…" Mike didn't know what to say. The Puppet removed its hands and looked up at him with despair.

"I'm afraid," the Puppet confessed. "I'm afraid of sounds, of shadows, of- of everything! I'm afraid of things that aren't even there. After all I've seen… It's pathetic." A flash of lightning illuminated the room and the Puppet dropped onto its side into what was much more resembling of the fetal position while covering his head protectively.

Its voice was surprisingly soft and, as said before, very human-like. It was masculine, so Mike had gotten that much right on his earlier guesses. It was not the voice of a child, but still rather soft even with its outburst. Mike looked down at the form and tried to consider what his next move was going to be as he stared at him. The thunder came and the animatronic shivered and pulled his legs in tighter. This wasn't going to get better on its own. Mike knelt in front of the Puppet.

"Why did you wait this long to tell me…?" Mike murmured. "Why did you wait this long to speak? You shouldn't have to wait until… Until this before you speak up." He reached forward and rested his hand on the animatronic's shoulder. Slowly the striped arm slid down from his head and fell to the carpet limp. Now he could see the mask and the fresh tear tracks as the Puppet stared blankly at the bed. Mike exhaled slowly and moved to fully sit down beside him and leaned his back against the foot of the bed. "You're not supposed to go through this alone."

"I'm not supposed to go through this at all…" the Puppet quietly admitted. He slowly raised his arm to lay a hand on the human's leg for extra reassurance. "It's all gone. They're all gone. He's gone… Why am I afraid now? How can shadows scare me?" His fingers tightened as he turned his mask further against the carpet. "I've been in the dark so long, why am I scared of it now?"

"I don't know," Mike admitted as he mentally warred over his next question. It could either make everything worse or lead to the answers that he needed. "Maybe you could explain it to me… How did you get damaged like that? I've seen animatronics get out of shape, but that… That was worse than I expected." He rubbed the fabric shoulder before squeezing it. "Did someone do this to you?" His protectiveness was coming through. It must've been apparent from how the Puppet raised his head to look at him. He seemed unsure whether to speak about the horrors he had gone through.

Slowly, the Puppet drew itself upwards, almost limply, and laid his head on Mike's leg. His slender, dark fingers tightened into the man's nightclothes and he gave a low tune. It was clear that he was desperately seeking assurance, so Mike moved his hand from the fabric shoulder to gently pet his head. The edge of his mask was still cooled and yet he found himself tracing over it eagerly. The Puppet trilled and then, even though Mike didn't expect it, he began to reveal everything.

"I knew that they always wanted to keep me asleep… But I didn't know how far they would go to get rid of me…" He pulled his legs in again as his free arm wrapped around himself as he recounted. "It looked just like a normal bear. Almost like Freddy, recolored just enough to deceive as a new animatronic, and it played the sweetest lullabies. Something drew me to it and I thought- No. I didn't think. I was incapable of thinking around that bear…" He gave a full shudder and a noise like an exhale. "I really don't remember how I got inside of it. I woke up and I was halfway in… It was hollow on the inside. Just enough room to fit me."

Mike had become numb to pretty much everything after Freddy's, but somehow this story was hitting him in a way he didn't expect it to. He felt massively uncomfortable, mostly because he could predict what was coming.

"They knew that they could seal me inside and hide me forever, keeping me asleep with their music and imprisoning my body in that… That terrible bear." Marionette's voice broke midway through. "I don't know why I woke up before they had me sealed inside but I did, and I knew that I had to escape. I had to get out, it wanted to keep me in, and while- while I was climbing out of its belly it started to close on me. It would've gotten me easily if I wasn't so used to slipping through tight spaces, and I almost got out unscathed…" The arm around his chest moved so he could grasp at his own buttons. "But then… It clamped down."

"Oh God," Mike mumbled reflexively.

"I… I've never felt pain like that… Or not for a long time," the Puppet admitted with a low hum of despair. "But I got away, I dragged myself out of the Pizzeria, and collapsed amongst the garbage, and laid there and waited for them to f-ind me and put me ba-ck inside." His voice was starting to break up. He was trembling like a leaf, barely acknowledging the thunder outside, and lost in his memories. Thick tears of paint trailed down onto Mike's pants and onto the carpet beneath them.

"How long were you out there?" Mike dared to ask. His voice was low, dangerously so, because somehow what had once been sympathy had quickly advanced into white-hot rage. All of it was aimed at the business who would concoct this.

"I don't remember," the striped one admitted. "It could've been days, but I think they would have found me… In any case, they didn't. You did. You found. You saved me. They… They wanted me gone so badly that they would- would trap me into a body forever…" His pupils, mere dots of light, looked up towards Mike from over the constant flood of tears. He looked undeniably desperate. It was clear that this fear he was so ashamed of was overwhelming him. He wasn't exaggerating; he was nearly losing his mind, and all he could do was admit the truth. "I think you're the only thing in the world that I'm not afraid of now."

Mike couldn't recall ever feeling like he had been stabbed in the chest by words alone, but that nearly did it. He tried to push it back, clenching his jaw, and focused on what he could do for the moment. And he had to do something, that much was very apparent. He slowly reached down and drew the animatronic into his arms. As flighty as he was, the Puppet eagerly huddled against the human. His gaze now aimed towards the bedroom door and he watched it in paranoia even as he was securely held. Now Mike understood everything; the Puppet expected this bear to come after him.

"I can tell you that I'm going to keep you safe. I can protect you, I can make sure nothing hurts you," Mike began. "…But I can't make you believe it. We're just going to have to take it one day at a time… And if that means me driving over to Freddy's tomorrow morning, breaking in, and bludgeoning a few bears then I'm willing to do it." Briefly his emotions showed through, but he drew back into supportiveness instead. "…And I can't even begin to imagine what any of that had to feel like. Just seeing the aftereffects is too real… Freddy's really is full of monsters."

He could feel the Puppet's arms slide around him and hold him tightly. "…I'm afraid he will come for me," the animatronic admitted. He turned his face to bury it into Mike's shoulder.

"The bear?" Mike asked. The Puppet didn't answer and so he could only assume that he meant someone else. Perhaps whoever had originally set the trap. "Nobody's getting in here. And if they did, they'd have to go through me, and they're going to have a hell of a time if Freddy Fazbear himself couldn't take me out." There was the softest chime of amusement that only seemed slightly forced.

Yet Mike still didn't feel better about this, and not just because it was clear that his promises weren't doing as well as he hoped. Just hearing about this horrific tale made him want to take action, to get justice or to step back in time to stop what had happened, but he knew that he couldn't do anything. He had already played his role.

"I didn't even notice an extra animatronic on the night shift. Unless it was in one of the bathrooms hiding." It seemed unbelievable until cold realization set in. "They probably took it right back out before my shift. Probably thought he was still inside of it… And then he sat out in the rain until I found him. They could've easily found him before me. Or they could've seen me taking him away."

It was no secret that Mike wasn't fond of the management at Freddy's. Whether it be the various managers, the random help, or Henry himself; he had no tolerance for any of them. They just didn't care about anything except covering their tracks and cutting their losses, and now here was a victim to their methods. He was the security guard, he was the one who spent all his time with the animatronics, and yet they had decided to take such severe measures in getting rid of a single animatronic. He couldn't help but distrust them, especially when they had covered up so many deaths to protect themselves. Perhaps the Puppet was walking evidence that Henry wanted gone.

"It's been so long since someone's taken care of me," the Puppet quietly added, interrupting any of Mike's thoughts. The human's attention went straight back to the animatronic who gave a low warble as he nuzzled his mask against him. His more affectionate side started to show once more, and its familiarity assured that they were on the right path. "I've been on my own for years. Nobody's cared since I've become this- in all honesty, they didn't care beforehand either… I never thought anyone would find me in that alley, let alone bring me home… I wanted to leave that pizzeria so much, but I had nowhere to go."

"Did you ever try leaving before?" Mike asked, to which the Puppet shook his head against him. "It's not like I could leave you. You deserved better than that… But it was a close call. If it wasn't to spite my boss, I wouldn't have even been there."

"Anyone else would've taken me back inside, and then they would've made sure I got into the bear. Just like with my box, they would've made sure I stayed in my place… But not you." The Puppet gave another low trill as he started to finally relax. Adoration and appreciation overflowed on his voice. "No, you brought me here, you fixed me, you let me choose to stay awake… I don't understand why you're the exception."

"Because I'm a decent human being?" Mike playfully asked.

"I'd say you're more than just that…" The Puppet's voice lowered to a murmur.

It was right at this moment that everything became different. As though struck by some sort of tonal whiplash that Mike was not anticipating, especial after they discussed the bear. It was suddenly so warm- perhaps because of how the Puppet clung to him- and even though the storm hadn't died down it was barely noticed. It was almost surreal: this creature, which was both capable of thinking rationally and possibly capable of hunting a human, wanted his comfort above all others'. It willingly chose him; nobody else had ever considered Mike that important.

"Alright, Mike, reign yourself in. He appreciates you bringing him home, he doesn't worship the ground you walk on," Mike mentally scolded. He would've listened to that self-advice too if not for his thoughts quickly changing. "God, he is cute, isn't he? Even when he's in the middle of a complete meltdown." These deceptively innocent thoughts were red flags that he was getting in too deep. He would've never anticipated that a voice would make it worse- the chimes had always been endearing and the mystery of the silence let his mind wander- but it had, because suddenly the animatronic was only much more human.

"I'm just worked up about Freddy's. I don't know what's going on over there, but we're all going to sleep a lot better once that place is shut down for good," Mike insisted. He ignored how quickly his heart was beating, even if he knew that the Puppet was able to hear it. Instead he held the Puppet closer and the animatronic gave another low warble of contentment, then shivering at the low rumbling outside of the window. He couldn't resist the temptation to act without thinking.

Mike slipped his hand just under the Puppet's chin and guided his head to tilt back enough to press his lips to his forehead. The striped one's reaction was a surprised chirp, as though a gasp, and only then did Mike realize what he had done. He had gone too far; he was edging on the point of no return. Immediately his mind raced to play it off, even as the animatronic went entirely still, even as that low warbles started to appear again and grow louder. "I never quite caught your name."

The noises were more obvious now; a blend of music box stuttering and mechanical sounding static. It almost sounded like a purring. The Puppet still spoke over it, "I prefer Marionette to Puppet… But I suppose I like Stripes too."

"Oh yeah?" Mike playfully asked.

"It's growing on me." Mike drew the Puppet back so that he could look at him, and so that he would listen to every word and take them in.

"Well, Stripes, let me tell you something. No matter what happens- no matter what tries to break down my door, whether it be a thunderstorm or Freddy Fazbear himself, or Freddy Beartrap- I'm going to keep you safe. Nobody's going to take you away," Mike reassured him. He looked down as one of the dark hands that had fallen off his shoulder and was now resting in Marionette's lap. He decided to be bold and took his hand in his own. "I can't tell you not to be afraid. I can't take away any of those memories, or stop when they creep up on you, but when they do scare you I want you to know that you're safe."

A smile was a good sign, as was the trills and chimes that accompanied it. Finally, that fear was starting to recede. Marionette was acting as affectionate as he had before, even resting his free hand atop the human's to hold it more securely.

"Thank you… Mike." It was the first time Marionette had said his name and it felt significant.

As for the Puppet himself, it had been some time since he had felt hopeful. Escaping the pizzeria had never been a reasonable goal and yet here he was far from the tight confines of his box. He had found someone willing to extend a helping hand even when they didn't have anything to immediately gain from it. Never had he been able to feel that before; not from his parent, not from his siblings, and certainly not from any other workers at Freddy's. He wasn't sure if he would ever fully lower his guard again, but this was the closest he had gotten in years.

It was then that the security guard finally started to separate them and stood from the floor. The Puppet resisted the urge to cling and tried to ignore the growing anxiousness when they separated.

"We've got a few more hours until morning. What do you say we get some sleep while we can?" Mike asked. He offered his hand and Marionette took it without any hesitation.

The storm raged on outside and yet they barely noticed it.