Chapter Text
Ding-dong! … Ding-dong!
“Hm..?” A loud yawn came from the young woman laying in her bed. She rubbed her eyes for a second before turning her head to squint at her alarm clock. 2:04 am.
Ding-dong!
With a tired groan, Charlie sat up in bed. “Give me a second, will you??” she shouted in the direction of the door to her house. After another second of trying to wake herself up, she threw on her green jacket that had been slumped on the ground and shuffled over to the door.
She stood on her toes to look through the peephole in an attempt to identify who was at her door, but all she could make out through the darkness was a hooded figure, seemingly looking over its shoulder towards the road. “Who the hell..” she muttered to herself as she reached for the bat she had leaning against her wall. Flipping on the porch light, Charlie unlocked the door and cracked it open just a hair. Her grip on the bat tightened as she peered through the now-opened door.
“You shouldn’t bother a stranger this late,” Charlie began to warn, but her voice caught in her throat once the figure turned back to face her.
Seconds felt like hours. Her heart dropped into her stomach. She felt her legs grow weak, and her hands went cold. The man in front of her was horrifically disfigured; Chunks of skin on his face were missing altogether, and the flesh he did have was a light purple, almost like he was rotting. The smell emanating from him alone would’ve been enough to floor Charlie, but the worst of it all was how familiar he still looked.
“M- .. Michael..?” The man carried an expression that was almost entirely unreadable. He looked angry, ashamed, lonely, and hurt. He looked defeated.
“I wasn’t sure where else to go..” His accent still poked through his voice, but it sounded raspy and slightly deeper than Charlie remembered. She stared into his eyes, now a glossy purple rather than the familiar blue ones he had before. They now looked just like the eyes her father used to craft for his animatronics.
Charlie’s hand seemed to move on its own, dropping the bat and slowly reaching up to touch his cheek, disbelief still written all over her face. “What happened to you?” she whispered, carefully tracing her fingers along his dilapidated skin. He was freezing.
Michael’s soulless eyes stared down at Charlie, his face contorted in discomfort. He carefully pushed her hand away and made a noise akin to clearing his throat. “Long story.” He slowly looked past her and into the dimly lit house. He hadn’t been back here in years out of respect for Charlie and her grief. It was only now that he noticed how similar the layout was to when they were younger. Or at least, the small bit he could see past the door was similar enough. “Um.. May I?”
“Oh! Yeah, sure-” Charlie held the door open while Michael limped past her and into the house. Even walking looked painful to him.
After locking the door, Charlie flipped on the light to the living room in time to see Michael staring over at a wall littered with pictures in various frames. They ranged from pictures of Charlie as a young girl standing in front of a marked door frame, to ones of her and her father, and of course the occasional picture of her father standing by Michael’s.
“You haven’t moved a thing,” he murmured as Charlie stood beside him.
“Haven’t had the heart to,” she admitted, looking over the wall. Her gaze shifted to a picture off in the corner; One of her and Michael when they were about fourteen years old. They both held masks resembling animatronics her father had built in collaboration with Michael’s father.
“Come on,” Charlie finally spoke, taking Michael’s arm, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Just based off his clothes alone, she could tell he hadn’t showered in weeks. His face was stained with dirt and traces of dried blood, and the rest of his body looked no better. The first thing Charlie noticed after he removed his shirt was the huge gash in his stomach, or rather, the haphazardly stitched-together spot where a large wound used to be. It showed zero signs of healing, but it wasn’t bleeding either. It was like his body had just stopped working altogether.
Now, sitting on the edge of her bathtub, Charlie carefully wiped away at his skin with a damp washcloth, afraid if she applied any sort of pressure she’d end up doing more damage. While she worked on getting him cleaned up, Michael explained everything. He told her about what his father had done to countless children, and what became of his little sister. He described the underground facility that housed his father’s experiments. He also told her about the scooper, and the amalgamation of animatronics that had resided in his body up until that morning. By the time he finished, Charlie had begun gently patting him down with a clean towel. She hadn’t spoken a word while Michael described what had happened to him. It was almost too insane to believe. Had it come from anyone else, she wouldn’t have believed it.
Taking a deep breath, Charlie moved to begin drying off his face. She could feel his gaze bearing down at her, watching her work. She could also sense the apprehension from him, completely unsure as to how she would respond.
“So, that’s it then?”
Michael cocked his head in confusion. Charlie let the towel drop to the floor as she gestured to his body, looking up into his vacant eyes. “I mean- Michael, you should be dead!”
“I know,” he sighed, picking up the towel. “I know. It must have something to do with my father’s experiments, I just.. I’m not sure how.”
“Could it be the same thing that made Lizzie.. Well..” Charlie implied, earning a nod from Michael. “And Evan?”
“I’m not sure,” he confessed. Another moment of silence passed between them. Michael’s pained expression revealed exactly what he was thinking. He was never good at hiding his feelings, especially not from her.
“It’s not your fault, Mike,” Charlie quietly assured, though she only got a hum of acknowledgement in reply. He didn’t believe her and she knew it.
She had been there of course, the day Evan Afton was killed. She remembered all too well the horrified looks on everyone’s faces throughout the diner, as well as the pained scream that came from his father, William. The sight of Evan’s lifeless body dangling from the mouth of the Fredbear animatronic was burned into her memory. Of course she also remembered the petrified look on Michael’s face as his father whipped around to face him. Charlie was whisked away by her own dad before she was able to see what happened, but she did know Michael was never quite the same.
“If he- If I hadn’t killed him, my father wouldn’t have-”
“Stop.” Charlie cut off his spiraling thought by reaching over to rest her hand on top of his. “Your father is a disturbed old man. Nothing short of death could’ve stopped what he had done to those kids.”
“Not just them,” Michael interjected, “Henry would still be alive.”
Charlie froze, staring blankly at Michael. The unfortunate part was, he was probably right. Henry Emily was found dead in the home he shared with his daughter only two years ago. No arrests were ever made, there simply wasn’t enough evidence to convict anyone. However, William had disappeared soon after, leaving Michael to find dozens of journals in his parents’ old room. Most mentioned Henry in one way or another, whether it be raving about his genius or loathing his success, but one in particular detailed a sadistic plan to murder his old business partner and lifelong friend. To this day, neither Charlie nor Michael knew what prompted him to finally snap.
“.. Wait here,” she finally mumbled, breaking the silence, and stood up to head to her late father’s room. Upon reaching the closed door, she rested her hand on the handle and briefly paused. Charlie hadn’t been in his room since the incident, she felt it would’ve been too painful. Though, after mustering up the courage, she took another deep breath and slowly turned the handle.
Everything was just as she remembered it to be. His bed was still perfectly made, various sketches and scribbles lay scattered across the floor, and not surprisingly, there was still an old picture of her sitting on his bedside table. He was always deeply sentimental.
She slowly began walking over to his closet, looking around the room as she moved. She was so entranced in her father’s old memories, she hadn’t heard or noticed when Michael appeared in the doorway.
“Charlie?”
She let out a startled gasp and spun to face Michael, sighing when she saw him leaning on the doorframe.
“Just grabbing something for you to wear,” Charlie explained as she turned back to the old closet. After picking out one of her father’s worn shirts and a pair of sweats, she handed them over to Michael, who looked slightly uncomfortable as he took them. She knew he was unsure about wearing a dead man’s clothes, but she also knew he respected her enough not to argue about it.
“You can sleep here,” Charlie began, moving back towards Henry’s bedside table. “We can figure out what to do in the morning.”
“No, I’m not tired,” Michael protested, earning a scoff from Charlie. Truthfully, he was exhausted. What he wouldn’t tell her though, was how afraid he still was. He worried for not only his safety, but hers as well. Especially hers. What would happen if the animatronics, or God forbid, William found him?
“You’ve been through hell, Michael. Get some rest.” She took one last look at her picture before gently placing it face-down. Turning to look back at Michael, she added, “I’ll be out on the couch if you need anything.”
She could see the worry in his face, and while she wanted nothing more than to make him feel safe again, she knew there were some things she couldn’t fix. That didn’t stop her from feeling bad about it though. It was one of the qualities about herself she considered to be negative. Her father always used to admire the way she cared for others, lifting them up before herself. It was something she learned from him.
“Thank you,” Michael answered. “For everything.” For taking care of him once again.
Charlie gave him an understanding nod before moving towards the door, and although he had stepped aside to let her pass, she stopped and stood directly in front of him.
The slight look of confusion on Michael’s face melted away immediately as Charlie’s arms wrapped around him in a gentle hug. He wasn’t a very physical person and she knew it, so she wasn’t offended when he didn’t reciprocate the gesture. She could thank his upbringing for that. Instead, she mumbled, “I missed you, Mikey,” before letting him go. She had only gotten a few feet down the hall before she heard her name called from behind her.
“Charlie?”
“Yeah?”
Michael looked like he wanted to say something serious, but after a second of contemplation he feigned a sly smile. “Does the T.V. work?” he asked. Charlie rolled her eyes in amusement.
“The Immortal and The Restless is on channel 125,” she teased. It had always been his favorite show, ever since they were kids. All that aired now were reruns, but she knew he still watched it faithfully every night. She never cared for it much, it was too predictable, but she knew how much it meant to Michael. It was something he and his mom used to bond over before she had left.
Giving him a soft smile, she told him goodnight before making her way to the couch in the living room. She heard his voice call goodnight back to her before the door behind her was closed.
She didn’t bother taking her jacket off, instead choosing to lay back on one of the decorative pillows and stare up at the ceiling. Tired as she was, she couldn’t keep her mind from racing. Her best friend was back, but he wasn’t the same. His murderous father was still out there somewhere. There had been grotesque experiments performed in a secret bunker below the Afton’s old home, one she had visited countless times. Then there was poor Lizzie..
Charlie sighed in frustration as she turned on her side. What were they going to do? It wasn’t like Michael could go outside in the daylight looking the way he did. The first thing she had to do was figure out a way for him to blend in.
Closing her eyes, she racked her brain for ideas, but her exhaustion hindered her and prevented her from coming up with anything practical. Her face scrunched up in irritation, though not two seconds later she heard the hum of the T.V. click on in her father’s room and her expression softened. She needed to sleep, if not for her, for Michael. She would figure something out in the morning.
The bickering voices of Clara and Vlad softly filled the room, giving Charlie a smile as she settled into the couch. It was oddly soothing. Familiar.
It wasn’t long before the background noise lulled her to sleep, and while she didn’t know it, her quiet snores coming from the other side of the door were what finally caused Michael to relax enough to fall asleep as well. For that night at least, they were safe. Nothing would hurt them.