Work Text:
He pressed on in the darkness. Carefully listening to every creak and rustle of the studio. His grip loosened and tightened around the handle. A practiced motion from the war when the axe he now held had been a rifle. Edging to the end of the hallway he was currently in his grip tightened imperceptibly to those that watched him in the darkness.
Prepping himself for another onslaught of whatever the gliding ink people were, gliders(?), he'd have to think about that, he rounded the corner. Nothing came at him this time to his surprise.
Not wasting the moment of calm he moved down the right hallway. His goal to get to the valve controlling the ink flow was in sight. Of course as soon as he had put his guard down slightly one of those gliders (it was sticking) popped up from a glob of ink sitting in front of Sammy's old office.
Slicing deftly through it without pause he moved to enter the office. Passing another cardboard figure of Bendy he paused and sighed to himself. He had heard him. It wasn’t very hard. With a wail that would make any parent come running. Which was exactly what Henry had done. Running around the studio until he found the staircase leading up to him, his creation. No. Bendy.
Just as he had been about to run up the staircase he realized what he was doing. Running into a completely unknown situation, against an enemy that he was unsure of the capabilities of, not exactly something a war veteran would do. But a side of him that he did not know had been lurking within screamed at him to go and comfort Bendy. It railed and shook him to his core.
But his grip on the axe in turn tightened. Every second that he stood motionless at the base of the stairs his inner and outer selves fought. Tighter and tighter his knuckles turning white. Tighter and tighter until tiny speckles of red appeared. Finally he loosened his grip.
Backing gently away from the stairs, Bendy's wails while still loud had yet to cease, he scavenged for some bandages in a near by storage closet to gently wind around his hands.
He shouldn't let Bendy be alone. He should go to him. He never should have left him.
He was shocked at these thoughts. He was acting as though Bendy was his child. It dawned on him that he was though. Bendy had been his creation initially, Joey had been along for the ride coming up with other characters to enter the fray, but Bendy was his.
He listened in. The pained wracking sobs from earlier were now merely sniffles and shaky breaths. If he was going to do this. He better go now.
Clutching the axe again. Making sure a looser grip was enforced. He gently stepped up the stairs. He knew he'd have to discard the axe to show he wasn't a threat. But for now he wished to clutch his security blanket a little longer. Just in case Bendy was not willing to listen.