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Freddy liked to pretend that he didn’t know what was going on sometimes. He was the happy-go-lucky bear that kept everyone feeling good.
If he could prevent Gregory from feeling guilt, he would.
So, Freddy acted clueless when Gregory replaced his eyes. And his claws. And his voicebox. He tried not to think about the pain his friends must have been in, and in the quiet hours of the night he hoped they forgave him for actions not his own.
Bonnie being repaired had been a shock for everyone. ‘People kept complaining that Bonnie Bowl felt empty without a mascot’ was the reason given for his sudden recommission. He didn’t play with the band again, but just having him around made Freddy happy.
But just like with Gregory, he acted clueless to prevent Bonnie from feeling guilt.
Freddy knew why Bonnie was decommissioned to begin with. Bonnie had always been the most aggressive animatronic, even if he hid it behind sarcastic jokes and witty banter. Freddy knew that Bonnie caught wind of rumors of Monty replacing him in the band.
Freddy knew that Bonnie destroyed Monty.
And while Monty was repaired, Bonnie was given an execution date.
No one knew that he knew this, and he had hoped it would always stay that way.
Unfortunately, the animatronics, sentient as they are, have their emotions, their feelings; they have moments when they just snap.
Bonnie had been particularly snarky today, his target being the loud alligator he had such a distaste for. His anger towards Monty had only gotten worse since he’d been repaired, presumably festering over the months he’d been sitting, aware, in the dark tunnels of forgotten parts.
As much love as Freddy had for the rabbit, he was tired. Despite everything, Monty was his friend, and he cared for him.
The two were alone in Freddy's room, Gregory and the others all off on a Fazcade adventure. Bonnie took this opportunity away from the others to unleash his daily complaints about Monty.
“He thinks he’s better than me,” he grumbled from his place on the couch.
“He does not think that, Bonnie. You might be reading too far into his actions.” Freddy reorganized the items on his mirror table, Gregory having left out crayons and markers after drawing a surprise doodle for the daycare attendant. If he wasn’t exhausted, it would have made Freddy smile.
“He totally does! He looks at me with this.. malice. He needs to chill out.”
Freddy set down the crayon box he was filling, making a sound similar to a human sigh and cathartic in the same sense. He had to be civil, he had to be patient, he had to. “Have you considered that maybe he has a reason to dislike you?”
“Are you kidding?” Bonnie asked incredulously, standing up to emphasize his frustration. “I was decommissioned for MONTHS. He REPLACED me. And he has the audacity to have problems with me?”
In a jolt of emotion that was neither happy nor familiar, Freddy turned to face him. “You’d think that after being decommissioned, you would learn to feel remorse for what you did to him.”
Bonnie’s next insult, already queued on his tongue, fizzled out into distant static. He spoke in a quiet, guilt-ridden yet faux-clueless voice. “What?”
Freddy pressed the radiant green button next to his door, speaking with a hollow sadness as it opened. “I know why you got decommissioned. I pretended it never happened to justify my still ever-present care for you.” He turned to face the rabbit, both of their smiles often painted on the walls absent in this moment. “But I will not justify the consistent verbal aggression you have at my friends. They are my friends, Bonnie. I will not sacrifice them for you... It is late, we should both get some rest.”
“Freddy,” the rabbit tried, but his emotion-ridden glitching voice was cut off by the new and terrifying tone of the animatronic across from him; stern and emotionless.
“Goodnight, Bonnie. I will see you tomorrow. Please return to your room now.”